synopsis: with your grade on the line, you swallow your pride and ask Jungwon, the one man you can’t stand, for help. but his teaching methods seem to be a bit…unethical.
wc: 3.5k
warnings: yang jungwon x fem!reader , one sided enemies , mean dom!won , humiliation , academic humiliation ( is this a thing ) , oral m!receiving , fingering , p in v , mocking , spit , hair pulling , creampie (don’t do it) , breeding kink , hate fucking (i think idk lowkey) , dumbification , crying , pet names (baby, good/stupid/dumb girl, slut) , cum eating , edging , not proof read
roses thoughts… i really wanted to get something out so here’s this filth LOL. i’m working on a longer, more personal fic as well. no idea when it’ll be out but make sure you keep an eye out ok… as always, asks and reblogs are always appreciated
playlist: feel good - clara la san // bad thing (bunny hop) - ariana grande // freak - doja cat //
Your foot taps on the marble flooring, leg practically vibrating with nerves.
“As a reminder, your final will be worth almost half your grade,” your teacher continues, pointing at the syllabus she’s displayed on the white board. You hadn’t paid much attention to it the first day of school, mostly because it was never something you had to worry about before.
School’s always been easy for you. One of the lucky ones, your mom would say. Your brain was almost like a sponge with how easily it soaked in new information.
But this class–yeah. It was no joke. And your grade was definitely seeing the results of that.
“To those of you with less than proficient grades at the moment,” your professor's eyes lock onto yours, which makes the anxiety stirring in your chest even worse. “I would heavily suggest finding a tutor.”
A tutor.
You’ve never needed a tutor before. You were the one doing the tutoring. Now you’ve become just like those students that used to come to you for help, and you’d be lying if you said your ego wasn’t taking a hit.
The big fat D you’d gotten on your last test flashes through your mind. Just one in a sea of bad grades, all that were pulling your grade into places you’ve only heard of.
You need to do well on this final if you want to pass the class, that much is obvious. But who the hell would you even ask? You don’t really know anyone here besides Riki, but he’s somehow doing even worse than you are, which is saying something.
Your eyes flicker around the room, darting from face to face in the hopes anyone will look promising.
And then your eyes land on him. Yang Jungwon. He’s sitting in the very back, glasses pushed up his nose and his cardigan bundled around him. To anyone who doesn’t know him, you’re sure he looks the picture of innocence. Just a studious guy who definitely doesn’t spend his time hanging around with his frat brothers and fucking anything that moves.
But you know Jungwon. You understand what subunit of men he falls under.
He’s a womanizer to the highest degree. And the worst kind at that, because he knows that women will fall at his feet without him even having to lift a finger.
You can’t stand guys like that. Men who think that they are entitled to sex simply because they’re attractive. It doesn’t help that most girls are too blind to look further into what type of man he is before they fall into his bed.
Or maybe you’re just thinking too much into it. Though you doubt that.
When class ends, you almost don’t walk over there. It’s too embarrassing, you think. To have to admit to anyone–especially Yang Jungwon–that you need help.
But then the failing grade you’ll surely get if you don’t has you swallowing your pride and forcing yourself to walk over to him.
He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy packing his laptop into his bag. You can actually look at him now that you’re so close and not halfway across the room.
Black hair. Deep, brown eyes. If he was anyone else, you might even think he was attractive. But the thought of falling into his honey-lined trap has you completely disregarding the idea.
You clear your throat, fingers messing idly with the hem of your sweater. “Hey.” You say, the word coming out as more of an awkward squeak then anything else.
He lifts his head to you, eyes looking over you lazily, like he was expecting this. Like he was expecting you. You know that’s probably just your insecurity speaking, but it still makes you feel hot with embarrassment.
He shoulders the strap of his bag. “What’s up?”
It takes everything in you to not turn tail and run. Just looking at him and imagining the smug look you’re sure will wash over his face makes you want to scream. You have half the mind to think he’ll assume you’re asking for help because you want in his pants, which is simply just not true.
You have never wanted anything more than to stay completely away from that STD-machine he calls his dick.
You sigh and run a hand through your hair, ignoring the tangles that catch along your fingers as you do. “You’re good at Anatomy, right?”
He just shrugs. “Depends.”
You raise a brow. “Depends on what?”
His lips raise slightly, threatening to break into a smirk. “On why you’re asking.”
Even though every single fiber of your body screams at you to find literally anyone else, you force yourself to say the words anyway. “I need a tutor,” you mumble.
Jungwon doesn’t look surprised in the least. He hums and takes a small step closer to you. “A tutor, huh?”
You take a step back. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You don’t mean for your tone to come out as hostile as it does, but it’s impossible to not feel irritated when it comes to Jungwon.
He huffs out a laugh. “Just making sure,” he says. “I never really took you as the type to need tutoring.”
I’m not, you want to say. Actually, I’d probably beat you out in every other class.
But you doubt offending him is going to make him want to help you. So, instead, you just sigh out, “yeah, well, I do. So are you going to help me or not?”
He pauses for a moment, like he really has to think about it, before he shrugs and gives you a small nod. “Sure, why not? I’ll tutor you.”
Your lips slip into a tight lipped smile. It’s the most polite thing you can really manage at the moment.
“Okay. Cool. Let’s meet at the library this weekend?”
Jungwon shakes his head. “Nah, come by my dorm. Better learning environment.”
You just roll your eyes. If he thinks the two of you will be doing anything except for studying, then he’s a lot dumber than he claims to be.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
In all honesty, you don’t really understand how you got here. On your knees in between Jungwon's thigh, while he fists a handful of your hair and forces his cock down your throat.
You’d been studying—at least, you think so. You aren’t sure if you can call him laughing at you everytime you messed up an answer studying.
“Come on, baby, open up for me.” He grunts, palm practically encasing your skull and pushing you further down onto his dick. Spit dribbles at the corner of your mouth, threatening to drip onto your chest.
You choke around his length, your nails digging into his thighs. He hasn’t let you up for air once–hasn’t even pretended he was going to give you some kind of reprieve. Instead, he’s laughed at you for it.
You flatten your tongue against the base, flicking the tip of the muscle against the vein running up his cock. He groans at the feeling, head tilting back before he forces himself to look down at you again. As if he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.
The feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat makes a fresh onslaught of tears cloud your already blurry vision, and Jungwon has the audacity to smirk at it.
He wraps your hair around his knuckles and forces you off his cock. You splutter for air as you come up, chest heaving and lips swollen. You can still taste his pre-cum on your tongue.
“You cryin’?” He asks, though he says it without any type of concern.
You feel your lower lip wobble with embarrassment. “I-I’m not–”
“No, you are.” He grins. “What? Is my cock too big for your tiny throat?”
Part of you wants to say yes—wants to scream at him for being too rough. Actually, you want to scream at yourself for getting into this situation.
But then you think about the smug look that will no doubt be on his face if you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. So, instead, you take in a breath and take him back into your mouth.
He gasps as you do, and you mentally give yourself a point. You might be the one with his cock down your throat, but you're also the one with most of the power. At least, for now.
You swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that drizzles in steady streams. Jungwon doesn’t shy away from being loud, and the moans that pour from him encourages you to take him deeper.
This time, you remind yourself to relax your throat and breathe through your nose. And ever so slowly, you manage to take him all the way to the base. Your nose smushes against his pelvis bone, filling your senses with sweat and his expensive cologne.
“Fuck!” He practically yelps, little whimpers falling from his lips the longer you deepthroat him. “Good fucking girl,” he gasps, “all you’re good for, right? Sucking dick and, hah, nothing else?” He chuckles, but it’s shaky. “Can’t even pass a fucking final.”
The reminder makes something twist low in your chest. A mix of embarrassment and…arousal. The reminder is a low blow, you’re sure he knows that, but it doesn’t piss you off like you think it should. Instead, heat pools between your legs, and you have to rub your thighs together in the hopes you might get any kind of relief.
Jungwon sees it, because of course he does. “You like that? Being reminded of just how fucking dumb you really are?”
You attempt to deny, but the words come out muffled. It sounds more like you’re gargling then anything else.
“Can’t even speak properly, stupid, stupid girl.” He laughs.
But even though he’s trying to play it cool, you can feel the way his thighs are shaking. Can feel how his hips jerk up every-so-often, searching for even more friction. Greedy.
You hollow out your cheeks, and force yourself to take him even deeper. His tip has far surpassed the back of your throat, forcing you to gag around him.
He lets out a long, high-pitched sound that nearly sounds like a wail. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum–”
His hips jerk uncontrollably into your mouth, and then he’s spilling into you. Ropes of cum fill your throat. The taste is bitter and tangy, and your nose scrunches up at it.
You want to spit it out like you do with every other guy, but he forces you off of him, deep dark eyes looking into yours, and he says, “swallow.”
If someone were to ask you why later, you’d tell them you were under spells. That Yang Jungwon put a curse on you and that’s why you listened.
But you know the truth.
Your throat bobs as you swallow the milky substance, and he grins as he watches it go down. He brings a hand up to your chin, and then uses his thumb to part your lips. “Open.” He says. You listen.
You part your lips and let your tongue fall from your mouth, showing him that you’d done exactly as he said.
He makes a sound deep in his chest, something akin to a rumble, and then uses his thumb to press down on your tongue. When he’s satisfied with what he sees, he retracts his hand and runs it through your messy hair. “Good girl.”
You hate that the praise goes right to your core.
He stands then, grabbing you by your arms and forcing you to your feet. He spins you around so the back of your knees hit the mattress. “You wanted to study right?” He murmurs against your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine. “Then let’s study.”
He pushes you down onto the bed, and then immediately positions himself on top of you and crashes his mouth onto yours. The kis is messy, his tongue licking into your mouth and driblets of saliva falling from the corners of your lips.
He kisses you like a man starved. Like you’re the only girl in the world. He kisses you like he could never get enough of it.
Slowly, he trails his hand down your stomach, all the way to the hem of your sweatpants. He doesn’t even give you a moment to realize what he’s doing, too busy keeping you occupied with his mouth. It’s not until he’s cupping you through your panties do you realize.
You gasp against his lips, and he smirks. Like he was expecting that reaction from you.
“For every question you get right,” he starts, lips ghosting yours. “I’ll give you some relief. Okay?”
Your eyes fly open, eyebrows knitting together at the sheer audacity. This is how he’s choosing to tutor you? By holding your own pleasure over your head?
“Jungwon–”
He ignores you. “Where part of the female body has the highest concentration of concentrated nerves?” He asks.
You furrow your brows. You don’t remember ever learning about this. But the feeling of him against you, completely unmoving, is enough to have you pouring out answers.
“The, um, the breast?” You murmur.
Jungwon clicks his teeth. “You really are just a dumb slut, aren't you?” He laughs, emphasizing his words with a light pat to your pussy. You jolt at the sensation, a breathless, needy sound falling from your lips.
You swallow, cheeks growing hot from humiliation. “I don’t know, Jungwon. We–We never learned this!”
But he doesn’t care. “Use that brain of yours and think. Unless you can’t even do that.”
You swallow, thinking of every single spot in your body that might have a good amount of nerve endings. Your fingertips, maybe? Or the skin at the bottom of your feet? Or the–oh.
The clitoris.
“The clitoris.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
You let out a huff of frustration. “The clit.” You say louder.
Jungwon grins, teeth on display as he does. “Smart girl.”
And then his hand is pulling your panties to the side and he’s rubbing your clit with his thumb. The pressure is light, just a featherlight touch to show you he’s there, but it’s enough to have you squirming.
“What chemical is released in the brain during intercourse?” He brings a finger up to your entrance and his thumb furthers the pressure on your nub. The feeling is intoxicating to say the least, bordering on not enough.
But, you genuinely have no idea the answer to his question. “Um, d-dopamine?”
He forces a finger inside your hole, immediately curling it against that spongy spot inside you. You cry out at the feeling, hands searching for anything to grip on. One of them settles on the sheets, while the other settles on his bicep. He raises a brow. “Maybe you aren’t that stupid after all.”
The next agonizing ten minutes pass like that, with him asking you questions you couldn’t possibly know the answer to and withholding pleasure every time you get it wrong.
It’s absolutely infuriating and extremely arousing all at the same time.
It takes a second, but you eventually feel that familiar coil begin to tighten in your stomach. Your hips roll against his fingers, chasing any and all relief he’s willing to give you.
“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum—” You gasp.
But Jungwon doesn’t let you. He slips his fingers from your cunt, leaving you unbearably empty, and you nearly sob at the feeling.
“No, no, no,” you cry.
Jungwon laughs. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.
“You think you deserve to cum?” He questions, leaning down licking up the stray tear that falls from your eye. His tongue trails from your cheek all the way to the corner of your eye. “Girls who can’t even pass a simple anatomy final don’t get to cum.” He mumbles against your skin.
You whine. You don’t even care about your pride anymore. All you can think about is the release that was ripped from you.
Jungwon pauses, lips quirking up slightly as he seems to get an idea. He leans in even closer, lips brushing your ear, and he says, “not unless they beg for it.”
You swallow. On any other day, you’d laugh in his face for even suggesting it. You begging Yang Jungwon to let you cum? Yeah, in his fucking dreams.
But now the idea isn’t that far-fetched.
You avert your gaze. “Please.” You murmur.
“Ah-ah,” he tsks, hand grabbing your chin and forcing your gaze back onto his. “Say it like you mean it.”
Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. Your entire body trembling with want and with the urge to run away. But you swallow it down, because the want to have some kind of release overpowers any humiliation you might be stuck with afterwards.
“Please,” you say louder. “Please let me cum. Please, Wonnie, I need it so bad.”
He groans, eyes squeezing shut momentarily before he’s reaching down and aligning his cock with your folds.
He doesn’t give you any type of warning, just pushes the head of his cock into your hole and doesn’t even give you a chance to adjust as he pushes himself to the hilt.
You let out a drawn out whine, your legs trembling as you attempt to accommodate his length. He’s big—bigger than anything you’ve taken before— and you swear you feel him in your throat.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck.
Slowly, he begins to roll his hips into yours, punching the air from your lungs everytime he rubs against your g-spot.
“W-Won—” You mumble, practically going cross-eyed. Your nails take down his back and leave long, red lines in their wake. Lines he’ll proudly wear and show off for the next week.
“Such a dumb baby,” he laughs. “Needing me to tutor you and ending up with my cock in you instead. Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to fill you up with my cum and make you a mommy?”
Your eyes widen at the idea. It should turn you off. You’re too young and you can’t stand Jungwon. Having a family with him would really be the end of you as you know it.
But, instead the idea of him filling you with his cum over and over again until it takes has you pulsing around him.
You shake your head, but it’s weak. Insincere.
“Yeahhhh, you do. Dirty fucking slut.” He brings a hand down your body until he finds your clit and begins rubbing circles into the nub.
You cry out, thighs shaking. Your orgasm builds quicker this time after he’d denied you the last time. This time, you don’t bother warning him, though you’re sure he can feel it.
“Gonna cum on my cock, baby?” He asks, tone filled with fake concern. “Go on then. You earned it.”
That’s all it takes before you’re breaking, your back arching and eyes rolling back from the force of it. Your blood practically goes cold and your vision goes white.
It’s intense, and Jungwon moans at the feeling of you pulsing around him.
“Shit—gonna fill you up, okay? Gonna fill up my dumb fucking girl.”
He cums with a small groan, his load shooting into you and painting your walls a ghastly white.
When it’s over, you lay there and let your mind wander as he catches his breath.
You, despite vowing not to, just let Jungwon fuck you. And even though you know you should, you don’t regret it in the least.
Yeah, you’re another notch on his ever growing belt. Yeah, next time you see him you’re going to want to die.
But…you’ve never had anyone fuck yoh that good before. Now you understand why so many girls beg him for seconds.
He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls out of you, his chest still heaving.
And then, without an ounce of shame, he says, “same time next week?”
黑穗病 ─── "I need you. need your attention. need you to look at me like this." Jungwon is your boyfriend who always drinks, and when he does, he shows up at your door and can't help but get horny because of how much he thinks about you.
ⳇ 𝓟 airing ╸ tipsy!jungwon x fem!reader
ⳇ w/c: 11.4k
㰙꯭ؚۣۙۗ㰛꯭ؚؔ 𝓦arnings: MDNI, unprotected p in v (don't do this to urself), drunk sex, manipulative behavior, clit play, squirting, light boob play, finger sucking, overstimulation, overwhelming sex, creampie, cunnilingus, dirty talk, praise kink,rough sex, lots of marking (fr), somnophilia, constant petting, hypersexual!jungwon.
𝓡ina's note: im almost finished with the ot7 enha AUs yeei, TYSMM 4 THE 700 FOLLOWERS, love y'all, it motivates me so much, like or reblog if you liked it and leave a comment (i love reading yall‹3)
总清单之家 check my ::⠀ ⠀، ⠀ ── 𝓜asterlist 𝓗ome
The lamp on your nightstand cast a warm, half-orange glow across the room, the kind of light that made everything feel softer and sleepier than it actually was.
You were sprawled on your stomach, knees bent, feet kicking lazily in the air while your highlighter scratched across the pages of your notebook.
Music played low through your earbuds, another practice test. another set of formulas you kept rereading because your brain refused to focus.
It was 9:57 p.m.
You hadn't heard from Jungwon since he texted at eight saying he'd just clocked out.
No "on my way", no meme, no nothing.
Not that it surprised you. he did this sometimes—disappeared into his own world after work, especially on nights when the shift ran long.
A sharp buzz cut through the music.
You paused, pulling one earbud out. the doorbell rang again, impatient.
You sighed, rolling off the bed and tugging down the hem of your oversized sleep shirt.
The pajama shorts rode up your thighs as you slid your feet into fuzzy slippers. "coming" you muttered to yourself, already knowing who it was.
When you opened the door, Jungwon was leaning against the frame like he belonged there.
Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, black t-shirt slightly damp at the collar from his possible shower. his cheeks were flushed, the tips of his ears redder than usual.
That familiar sweet-sharp scent of alcohol hit you before he even moved.
He smiled—slow, a little crooked, the one that always made your stomach flip even when you were pissed.
"Hi, baby" he said, voice low and warm, already stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
His hand came up gently, palms cupping your cheeks like you were something delicate.
Before you could say anything, he tilted your face up and kissed you. not soft. not careful. the kind of kiss that tasted like decisions he'd made without you.
His body pressed forward, guiding you back until your shoulders met the wall with a quiet thud. one of his hands slid down to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt just enough to brush warm skin.
You turned your head, breaking the kiss with a small push against his chest.
"Jungwon… you reek of alcohol" you complained, wrinkling your nose. the sharp, fruity alcohol clung to him even after the shower. "how much did you drink?"
He let out a soft laugh, forehead resting against yours. he didn't pull back. his breath fanned across your lips, warm and sweet.
"Not that much" he murmured. "just enough."
You slipped out from between him and the wall, closing the front door behind him with a click.
The apartment felt smaller with him in it—his presence always did that. you crossed your arms, leaning against the back of your couch.
"I thought you said you were tired after work. that you were just gonna go home and crash."
"I was." he shrugged, kicking off his shoes by the door. his eyes never left you. "then i started thinking about you. and once i start, i can't really stop."
He moved closer again, no concept of personal space tonight.
His fingers found the edge of your shorts, tracing the fabric like it was distracting him. you could see the glaze in his eyes, that hazy focus he got whenever the drinks hit just right.
He always got like this—needy, single-minded, like the entire world narrowed down to whatever part of you he could touch.
"Won, we talked about this" you said, voice quieter now. there was frustration there, but it was already mixing with something warmer, something that made you hate yourself a little. "i told you it bothers me when you show up like this. you said you'd slow down."
He hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing.
Instead he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind when you tried to step away, chin hooking over your shoulder. his chest pressed against your back, solid and still radiating shower heat.
"I know" he whispered against your neck. "and i'm sorry. my phone died on the way here anyway. couldn't even text you i was coming."
His lips brushed your skin—light, almost innocent, except for the way his hand slowly slid up your stomach under your shirt. "missed you too much tonight. work was fucking long. all i kept thinking about was coming here… seeing you like this."
You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore how good his voice sounded when it dropped like that. "that's not fair. you can't just ignore what i say because you're drunk and horny."
"I'm not drunk" he protested softly, but the way he nuzzled into your neck said otherwise. "just… had a couple. enough to know i needed to see my girl."
His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, suggestive but not demanding. not yet. "you're studying late again?"
You nodded, glancing toward your bedroom door. the orange lamp was still glowing in there like a beacon. "yeah. practice tests. i've got that big entrance exam coming up."
He made a sympathetic noise, but you could tell half his brain wasn't really listening.
The other half was busy pressing closer, hips shifting against you in a way that felt too intentional. his grip tightened just a fraction.
"You work so hard" he murmured. "proud of you. come here."
He turned you in his arms again, backing you gently toward the couch.
You let him—because saying no to Jungwon when he was like this was harder than it should've been.
He dropped down first, pulling you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. his hands settled on your thighs, thumbs stroking the bare skin just under the hem of your shorts.
"Jungwon" you started, trying to keep your tone steady. "i'm serious. this thing with you drinking after work… it's getting old. i worry about you. and then you show up like this and it feels like you don't even hear me.”
He looked up at you, dark eyes softer now, almost pleading in that cat-like way he had. one hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
"I do hear you" he said quietly. "i'm trying, baby. today was just… rough. needed something to take the edge off. but i'm here now. with you. that's what matters, right?"
You wanted to argue. you wanted to push him off and tell him that no, that wasn't what mattered—that his habit was starting to scare you a little, that the smell of beer on his breath made your chest tight.
But he was looking at you like you were the only thing that existed tonight. his fingers kept moving, slow and soothing on your thighs, and his other hand rested possessively at the small of your back.
"You're annoying" you muttered, but there was no real heat left in it.
He grinned, that playful, slightly tipsy smile breaking through. "yeah? still letting me stay though."
You rolled your eyes, but your hands had already found his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt.
He smelled like beer and his usual clean soap, a stupidly intoxicating mix. when he leaned in again, slower this time, you didn't stop him.
The kiss was deeper, lazier. his tongue brushed yours and you tasted the faint sweetness of the alcohol he'd had. it should've turned you off.
It didn't.
When he pulled back, his lips were shiny, breathing a little heavier.
"Missed this" he whispered. "missed you all fucking day."
You sat there in his lap, heart beating too fast, part of you was still annoyed—really annoyed—that he'd done it again.
That he'd brushed off your concerns with that soft voice and those gentle hands like he always did. but another, louder part was already melting into him, letting his warmth chase away the lonely quiet of your apartment.
"Stay the night?" he asked, voice low against your ear. his fingers slipped just a little higher on your thighs, teasing the line where skin met fabric.
Not pushing, just… reminding you he was here. solid. needy. yours.
You sighed, pressing your forehead to his.
"Yeah" you said finally. "but we're talking about this tomorrow. for real."
"Mhm" he hummed, already kissing the corner of your mouth. "tomorrow."
You knew he probably wouldn't bring it up first.
He never did.
But right now, with his hands on you and his attention wrapped completely around you like this, it was hard to care as much as you should.
You stayed in his lap for a long minute, the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you anchored.
The beer on his breath mixed with the scent of his skin, was annoyingly comforting.
Eventually you shifted, pressing your palms to his chest to create a little space.
"You want something to eat?" you asked, voice still soft. "i have ramyeon or i can make you toast or something. you probably haven't eaten since work."
Jungwon shook his head slowly, eyes half-lidded as his fingers traced lazy lines up and down the sides of your thighs. his touch stayed light, but it was constant, like he couldn't help himself.
"Not hungry"he murmured. "no appetite right now." his hands slid higher, slipping under the hem of your sleep shorts to squeeze the soft skin there. "just want you."
You let out a quiet breath, trying not to react too obviously. he leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"I want to do it" he whispered, low and rough, the words warm against your skin.
Your stomach tightened. you sighed, half-frustrated, half-something else entirely.
"Jungwon… the last time we did it here, Mrs. Park from next door literally banged on the wall. she complained about the 'noise' for like three days after."
He let out a soft, amused chuckle against your neck, the sound vibrating through you. his fingers kept stroking your thighs, thumbs pressing in slow circles.
"Mrs. Park?" he smirked, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "she's probably pissed because she hasn't had dick in decades."
You smacked his chest lightly, trying not to laugh. "you're awful."
"What? it's true." his grin was playful, a little mean in that tipsy way. "but fine. if you're worried, you can bury your face in the pillows this time. or i can cover your mouth for you." his voice dropped lower. "i don't mind. i like when you're loud, but i can be good."
You exhaled sharply, shifting in his lap. the way he said it so casually, so confident, made heat crawl up your neck.
"Stop..." you said, trying to hold onto the frustration that was quickly slipping away. "showing up drunk and looking for sex every time you miss me. it's not fair, Won. i told you it bothers me."
His expression softened immediately.
The playful smirk faded into something gentler, almost vulnerable. he wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you closer until your chest pressed against his.
One hand rubbed slow circles on your back under your shirt, the other resting high on your thigh again, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of your shorts.
"Baby" he murmured right against your ear, voice low and soothing. "that's not what this is. i would never come here just for that. you know me better than that."
He kissed the spot just below your ear, soft and lingering. "i haven't seen you since yesterday. all day at work i kept thinking about you. how quiet it gets when you're not around. i just… i need you. need your attention. need you to look at me like this."
His hand on your back slipped higher, tracing your spine with gentle fingertips.
The touch was intimate, almost tender. you felt yourself leaning into him without meaning to.
"I miss my girl" he continued, murmuring softly, lips brushing your skin with every word. "not just your body. i miss your voice, the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you get all focused when you're studying. i just want to be close to you tonight. is that so bad?"
You swallowed hard. the guilt crept in even though you knew you weren't the one who'd been drinking. his voice was so convincing, so sweet and a little sad, that the anger you'd felt earlier started dissolving.
"I know you’re trying to study" he added, still stroking your back in that slow, hypnotic rhythm. "i can help you. i'll be your tutor for the night. we can go over your notes together." he smiled against your neck.
"And in return… you just have to kiss me. a lot. non-stop, actually."
You let out a breathy laugh despite yourself. "that's not really a fair trade."
"It is" he insisted, pulling back to look at you with those dark, slightly glassy eyes. his hand squeezed your thigh gently. "because i'm a really good tutor. and i'm very motivated tonight."
You could feel the tension humming between you—the way his body stayed warm and solid under yours, the way he kept touching you like he needed the contact to breathe.
Part of you still knew this was the same pattern: he drank, he got needy, he showed up, he smoothed over your worries with that soft voice and those careful hands.
But right now, with him looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his entire day, it was hard to push him away.
"Jungwon…" you started, but it came out weaker than you wanted.
He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your ear.
"Just let me stay close to you" he whispered. "please, baby. i'll behave..."
His fingers traced higher on your thigh again, teasing but not crossing any lines yet.
You knew you'd probably regret not pushing harder on the drinking thing tomorrow. but tonight? tonight it was getting harder and harder to remember why you were supposed to be mad.
You finally gave in with a small nod. "fine. but we're actually studying for a bit first"
Jungwon's eyes lit up like you'd just promised him the world.
He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom, his hand resting low on your back the entire way, fingers occasionally slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt to brush bare skin.
You moved quickly, pulling the curtains shut tight, then pushed some notebooks aside to make room on the bed.
You climbed onto the mattress first, settling with your back against the headboard and pulling your laptop onto your thighs.
Jungwon dropped down right beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours and his arm draped behind your shoulders.
"So" he said, voice low and interested, tilting his head toward the screen. "what's this for?"
"It's for my extracurricular p.e academy" you explained, opening the slideshow. "we have to do a very basic presentation on bones and muscles. how they work together, common injuries, basic anatomy stuff."
Jungwon nodded, genuinely attentive even with the alcohol haze in his eyes. "that's actually cool. i admire the hell out of you for still grinding like this when vacation's basically here. most people would've checked out already."
You shrugged, a little embarrassed by the praise. "the presentation itself is pretty much done. i just need to memorize the flow and not sound like a robot when i'm up there."
"Easy" he said confidently, scooting even closer until his chin almost rested on your shoulder. "i got you. let's go through it."
For the next twenty minutes or so, he actually helped. he listened while you ran through the main sections, then started quizzing you gently on the bone groups—nothing too intense, just the basics. "carpals… tarsals… what about the femur again?"
His voice was calm and patient, the same tone he used when he was completely focused on something he cared about. every time you got one right, his hand would reward you with a slow stroke down your arm or a gentle squeeze on your thigh.
But after a while the boredom crept in. you leaned your head back against the headboard and let out an exaggerated groan.
"Ughhh, it's so easy on paper but it feels boring as fuck when i have to say it out loud" you complained sarcastically, rubbing your temples. "i think i'm getting a stress headache just looking at these slides."
Jungwon watched you for a second, then reached over and gently closed the laptop.
He set it on the nightstand without a word, his movements smooth and deliberate. the sudden lack of the screen's blue light made the orange lamp feel even more intimate, softer.
"You look stressed" he murmured, turning toward you fully. one hand came up to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw. "way too tense for this late at night."
You sighed, the sound heavier than you meant it to be. "maybe because someone showed up tipsy and keeps distracting me…"
He laughed quietly, the sound warm and a little raspy. without warning, he dipped his head and buried his face in the crook of your neck.
His lips brushed the sensitive skin there once, teasing, before he opened his mouth and started sucking—slow, deliberate pulls that sent little sparks down your spine.
You could feel the faint scrape of his teeth, the wet heat of his tongue as he worked on a spot that would definitely leave a mark tomorrow.
Your hand flew to his hair, fingers threading through the soft dark strands. you didn't pull, just held on, gripping lightly as your breathing changed.
"Jungwon…" you breathed.
He hummed against your neck, sucking a little harder before switching to a new spot just below the first. his free hand slid up your thigh again, higher this time, fingertips slipping under the edge of your pajama shorts but stopping just short of anything more.
"When Mrs. Park starts banging on the wall" you managed, voice shaky with a mix of amusement and heat, "you're the one explaining the noise. not me."
Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, lips shiny and curved into a lazy smirk.
His eyes were darker now, pupils blown wide. "don't worry about her" he whispered, voice low and rough. "i'll keep you quiet."
The way he said it hit you right in the gut. you literally felt your stomach flip, a deep warmth pooling low in your belly as your thighs pressed together on instinct.
The casual promise in his tone made your whole body react, a sharp throb of anticipation that made you shift on the sheets.
He noticed, of course. he always noticed.
"Yeah?" he asked softly, reading your face like a book. his hand on your thigh squeezed, thumb stroking dangerously close to where you were starting to ache. "you like that idea?"
You didn't answer right away, just tightened your grip in his hair. he took it as encouragement and leaned back in, kissing and sucking down the side of your neck while his other hand slipped under your sleep shirt.
His palm was warm against your stomach, sliding up slowly until his fingers brushed the underside of your bra. he didn't go further, just traced the edge, teasing.
The room felt smaller.
His damp hair, the flush still visible on his ears and cheeks, the way his gray sweatpants were starting to look tighter. you could feel how hard he was against your leg, but he wasn't rushing. he was savoring this, drawing it out on purpose.
"You're so pretty when you're trying to focus" he murmured against your collarbone, pressing a wet kiss there. "but i like you better like this… all soft and needy for me."
"I'm not needy" you protested weakly, even as your back arched a little into his touch.
Jungwon chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "sure you're not."
His fingers kept exploring—light, feather-soft touches that promised more but never quite delivered. he nipped at your neck again, then soothed the spot with his tongue. "but you're letting me mark you up anyway. and you're not stopping me."
You tugged his hair gently, pulling him up so you could look at him.
His lips were red, eyes glassy with want and alcohol, but the way he stared at you felt heavier than just the beer. like he really had been thinking about you all day.
Like being here, touching you, was the only thing that mattered.
Still, that small knot of frustration lingered in your chest.
"You always do this" you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could hold them back. "drink, then show up, then make me forget why i was annoyed."
Jungwon's expression softened again. he leaned in and kissed you properly this time—slow, deep. when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.
"I know" he whispered. "i'm sorry, baby. i just… needed you tonight. all of you." his hand stroked your side soothingly. "let me make you feel good. we can go slow. i'll keep you quiet." he smiled against your lips.
"Whatever you need."
Your heart hammered.
His fingers kept moving—tracing your ribs, your hip, the waistband of your shorts—building that slow, aching tension without ever crossing the line you hadn't given him permission for yet.
The apartment was quiet except for your shared breathing and the faint city noise outside the closed curtains. Mrs. Park was probably already in bed.
Your notes were forgotten. the only thing that existed right now was Jungwon's warm body pressed against yours, his mouth on your neck, and the heavy promise of what he wanted to do to you.
He kissed you again, slower this time, like he had all night.
And you let him.
You pulled away from his mouth just long enough to stand up, legs a little unsteady. his eyes on you.
Jungwon seated on the edge of the bed, watching you with that heavy, half-lidded gaze as you crossed the room and clicked the bedroom door shut.
The soft snick of the lock felt louder than it should have.
You turned around and walked straight to him and swung a leg over his lap, straddling him properly.
The second your bodies aligned, his hands found your waist, pulling you down against him as your mouths crashed together again.
This kiss was different—deeper, messier, hungry.
His lips were soft but insistent, parting yours instantly so his tongue could slide in, hot and tasting faintly of alcohol. he kissed like he'd been thinking about it for hours: slow, filthy strokes of tongue, gentle sucks on your bottom lip, then deeper again, tilting his head to get a better angle.
Wet sounds filled the quiet room—soft clicks and low hums as saliva slicked between your mouths.
You could feel him breathing harder through his nose, his chest rising against yours while his hands roamed your waist, hips, and up your back under your shirt, fingertips pressing into bare skin like he needed to memorize every inch.
You gripped his hair tighter, almost desperately now, tugging the soft strands as you rolled your hips once against the hardness growing beneath you.
Jungwon let out a quiet, needy sound into your mouth, something between a whine and a groan, his fingers digging harder into your hips.
After what felt like forever—tongues tangled, lips swollen, breaths shared—you finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting you for a second before it broke.
Without asking, your hands dropped to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down impatiently along with his boxers just enough to free him.
Jungwon let out a breathy laugh, forehead resting against yours. "thought you didn't want to do this while i'm tipsy."
"Shut up before i change my mind" you muttered, voice already hoarse.
He didn't argue. in one smooth motion he reached back and yanked his black t-shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
You pushed his pants and boxers lower, eyes dropping shamelessly to drink him in—his toned chest and abs, the sharp V-lines disappearing downward, and his cock, hard and flushed, resting heavy against his lower stomach.
You leaned in and bit down on his collarbone, not too hard but enough to make him hiss and whine softly under you, hips twitching up.
"Fuck—baby…"
Jungwon's hands moved with surprising gentleness despite the hunger in his eyes. he helped you out of your sleep shirt, then unhooked your bra with practiced fingers, sliding the straps down your arms.
His gaze softened with that familiar warmth as he looked at you—real affection mixed with raw want. he hooked his thumbs into your pajama shorts, pulling it down your legs.
When the fabric caught at your knees, he helped ease them the rest of the way off.
His eyes caught on your panties. a small, genuine smile broke through the lust.
"Are those new?" he asked, voice low and amused. "never seen you wear ones with little pinky bows before. if this was my early christmas present, i'm fucking lucky."
You huffed a laugh and turned around in his lap instead of answering, settling back against his chest.
You braced your feet on the cool floor, your ass nestled directly over his cock, grinding slowly back against him in a slow, teasing roll.
The position let you feel every inch of him—hot, hard, and throbbing—pressed between your cheeks while you moved.
Jungwon groaned quietly, the sound turning into a soft whine as his hands returned to your waist. his long, pretty fingers stroked up and down your sides and back, caressing your skin with reverence.
He didn't grab or rush. he just touched—tracing your spine, squeezing your hips, running his palms over the curve of your ass while you kept that lazy, sensual grind going.
Every roll of your hips made his cock slide against your wetness, coating him.
"You're so beautiful..." he whispered against your shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses there. "look at you…"
The grinding stretched on, slow and torturous.
Your breathing grew heavier, the slick sounds of skin against skin filling the room.
Jungwon's hands never stopped moving—gentle on your waist, occasionally brushing higher to cup your breasts lightly, thumbs grazing your nipples without fully focusing there yet. he was letting you set the pace, even as his cock twitched and leaked against you.
After several long minutes, his voice came out rough near your ear.
"You ready, baby?"
You turned your head just enough to look back at him, flashing a playful, wicked little smile. Jungwon let out a soft laugh, the sound melting into another needy whine as you shifted.
He reached between you, fingers carefully sliding your panties to the side without taking them off. the head of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping easily through your folds. he groaned low.
"Baby… you're so creamy already" he murmured, voice thick with want. "all this for me?"
His hands settled firmly on your waist. you took a slow breath and began sinking down onto him, inch by inch, the stretch burning so good.
Both of you moaned quietly—his a soft, broken whine, yours more breathy—as you took him all the way until your ass was flush against his lap.
He filled you completely, pressing right against that spot that made your toes curl against the cold floor.
"Easy"Jungwon whispered, kissing your shoulder. "don't hurt yourself, okay? go slow."
You started moving—lifting up and sinking back down in steady, deep strokes, still facing away from him.
The angle was perfect; every downward motion dragged him against every sensitive part inside you. Jungwon wrapped his arms around your body, pulling your back flush against his chest.
One arm banded across your stomach, the other hand moving up to knead and tease your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers exactly how you liked.
"Touch me more" you breathed, voice shaky. "i want your hands all over me."
He obeyed instantly, like he'd been waiting for permission. one hand stayed on your chest, pinching and soothing, while the other slid down between your legs, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.
His hips rocked up to meet yours, not thrusting hard but matching your rhythm so every movement hit deeper.
"That's it" he murmured, lips against your neck. "just like that, baby. you feel so good… so fucking tight and warm around me."
He kept talking in that low, quiet way—mostly soft instructions, mixed with those pretty little whines every time you clenched around him.
"You're doing so well… look at you taking all of me." his fingers circled your clit faster, the other hand squeezing your breast as he sucked another mark into your shoulder.
The position kept you completely full, every roll and bounce stimulating you from the inside while his hands worked your body from the outside.
Sweat was already starting to slick your skin where you pressed together. Jungwon's breathing was ragged against your ear, but he never rushed.
He just held you close, fucking you deep and steady, giving you everything you asked for while finally getting what he'd been craving since he showed up at your door.
The bedroom felt alive with sound.
Wet, filthy noises filled the air every time you sank down onto him — the slick, creamy sounds of your pussy taking every inch of Jungwon's cock.
You were soaked, embarrassingly so, and the way he stretched you left no room for anything else.
Each roll of your hips made an obscene squelch as he rubbed against your walls, the head of his dick kissing deep, right up against your cervix.
You leaned forward slowly, hands bracing on his thighs, chasing a deeper angle. the change made him slide against a new spot that had your toes curling against the cold floor.
Jungwon groaned, low and needy. his hands slid up your arms, fingers wrapping around your wrists for a moment before he tugged you back hard against him.
The sudden pull forced you down fully onto his cock, burying him to the hilt in one smooth motion.
"Ah—fuck" you moaned, biting your lip hard to try and stay quiet. it didn't work. the sound slipped out anyway, needy and broken.
"Shhh, baby… i know" Jungwon whispered right against your ear, voice sweet and raspy, laced with a whine. "you're taking me so deep like this. feel so fucking good squeezing around me."
He rocked up into you, grinding rather than thrusting, letting you feel every thick inch.
Your head falling back against his shoulder. "right there—… don't stop."
Jungwon let out a soft, pretty whine, the sound vibrating against your back. "yeah? you like it when i'm this deep?"
He kissed the side of your neck, sucking lightly while his hips kept that steady, filthy rhythm. "you're doing so well for me... but we're just getting started, okay? hold on for me."
The slap of skin on skin grew louder, wetter.
Every time your ass met his lap it made a messy sound, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down onto his balls. you tried to keep riding him properly, but your legs started burning, movements turning sloppy and desperate.
Jungwon noticed immediately.
Without warning, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you off him carefully but quickly.
You whimpered at the emptiness, but he was already guiding you down onto the bed on your back.
He settled between your spread legs, hovering over you. his larger frame covered yours as he caught both your wrists in one of his big hands and pinned them above your head against the mattress.
He looked down at you, eyes dark and glassy from the lust, but still so full of that soft affection that was so distinctly him.
"Gonna take care of you like this now" he murmured.
He reached down with his free hand, rubbing the swollen head of his cock against your clit in slow circles, teasing until you squirmed.
Then he lined himself up and pushed back inside in one smooth thrust, burying himself completely. the new angle made you arch off the bed with a choked moan.
Jungwon started fucking you again — fast and deep, hips snapping forward with precision. each thrust punched the air out of your lungs and made the wet sounds even louder in the quiet room.
He watched your face the entire time, eyes drinking in the way your brows furrowed and your lips parted with every stroke.
"… Look at you" he breathed, voice breaking into another whine as he drove deeper. "so pretty when you're getting fucked like this."
You moaned louder than you meant to. he quickly slipped two fingers from his free hand into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue gently.
"Suck." he whispered, voice sweet even as he kept pounding into you. "stay quiet for me, baby. just for a little longer.",
You obeyed, sucking on his fingers while he fucked you harder, the bed starting to creak softly beneath you. his whines grew a little louder, more frequent — those needy, breathy sounds that always slipped out when he felt really good.
He was trying to be quiet too, but the way your pussy clenched around him made it impossible.
After a few minutes he released your wrists, leaning down until his chest pressed flush against yours.
He buried his face in your neck, still thrusting deep and steady, now with more force. the new closeness let him grind against your clit with every stroke.
"Feels too good" he whined softly into your skin, voice yearning and desperate. "you're so warm… so tight. i can't get enough of you."
His hands roamed your body lovingly — stroking your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. never rough, always affectionate even while he fucked you senseless.
You couldn't help it. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as pleasure shot through you. your nails dragged down his back without meaning to, leaving red lines across his skin.
Jungwon moaned loudly into your neck — a broken, needy sound that made your stomach flip.
"Shit—baby" he gasped, hips stuttering for a second before he recovered, fucking you even deeper. "scratch me more if you need to… i like it. want to feel you."
You moaned directly into his ear, lips brushing the shell as your nails dug in again.
He whined again, louder this time, hips snapping harder. "yeah? right here?" he angled his hips and thrust up sharply, making sure the head of his cock dragged against that spot inside you.
"Love hearing you like this. love being inside you… like this is exactly where i belong."
The room was filled with everything — the wet slap of his hips meeting yours, the creak of the bed, your muffled moans and his pretty whines, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your creamy pussy.
Sweat slicked between your bodies. his hair stuck to his forehead, ears still red from the alcohol and exertion.
He kept talking between gasps and soft moans, voice low and intimate.
You dragged your nails down his back again, moaning his name against his ear. Jungwon shuddered, letting out another long, whiny groan as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there for a moment, grinding slow and deep.
"Don't stop" you begged breathlessly. "please, Won…"
"I won't" he promised, kissing your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach while still moving inside you. "not until you're shaking. not until you can't think about anything but me."
His hands never stopped caressing you— gentle strokes over your ribs, your waist, your breasts, like he was worshipping you even while he fucked you raw.
The contrast between his sweet touches and the way his cock kept stretching you open made your head spin.
Jungwon's whines mixed with your moans as he kept that steady, deep rhythm.
Jungwon's moans were getting prettier, more unguarded. those soft, breathy whines that slipped out every time he bottomed out inside you — cute little sounds that made your stomach tighten even more.
He readjusted carefully, pushing your thighs up until your knees were pressed to your chest, folding you neatly beneath him.
The new angle made everything feel impossibly tighter. your pussy clenched hard around his cock, squeezing him like it never wanted to let go.
"Fuck… baby" he whined low, the sound almost like a sweet complaint, filthy and needy at the same time. "you're gripping me so fucking tight."
He kept his voice hushed but raw, hips rolling steadily as he fucked you in this folded position. every thrust dragged against that perfect spot, the wet squelching sounds even louder now because of how soaked you were.
His cock bullied its way in and out, creamy arousal coating him completely and dripping down your ass onto the sheets.
You held your own legs against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs to keep them open for him. the position left you completely exposed, helpless to do anything but take every deep stroke.
"Ah—Won… it's too much" you gasped, voice breaking. "feels so deep… i can't—"
"You can" he murmured, voice soft and raspy, that signature Jungwon tone — gentle even while he was buried balls-deep inside you. "you're doing so good for me." he groaned again, a pretty, whiny sound that vibrated against your skin as he leaned closer.
He was driving you right to the edge. yhat familiar pressure built low in your belly — the tight, heavy ache that made your toes curl and your thighs tremble.
It felt like you needed to go to the bathroom and like the pleasure was about to explode at the same time. your whole lower body tightened, clit throbbing, walls fluttering wildly around his cock.
Jungwon noticed immediately. his dark eyes flicked up to your face, reading every twitch and moan.
"Yeah? you're close, aren't you?" he whispered, picking up the pace.
His hips snapped faster, still deep but more insistent now, chasing your orgasm. "come on, baby. let go for me."
"I'm— fuck, Won, i'm gonna—" your voice cracked into a sharp, needy cry as the orgasm crashed over you. you couldn't hold it back.
A broken moan tore from your throat as you squirted hard, soaking his cock, his pelvis, and the sheets beneath you.
Your body shook, pussy clenching rhythmically around him while waves of intense pleasure rolled through you.
Jungwon pulled out quickly but gently, replacing his cock with two fingers that kept rubbing your clit in fast, tight circles. "that's it… good girl. keep going, let it all out" he cooed softly, voice full of sweet encouragement while prolonging your orgasm.
You kept gushing, thighs trembling violently as another smaller spurt left you.
He stroked himself between your spread legs, hand flying over his slick cock. his breathing grew ragged, pretty whines turning into desperate little sounds.
"Baby— i'm close too" he gasped.
When he came, it was with a gorgeous, broken moan — that signature soft, slightly husky voice cracking into a high, needy whine that melted into a deep, satisfied groan. "ahh—shit… mmh—"
The sound was divine, the kind of moan that made your core clench even after your orgasm.
Thick, warm ropes of cum landed across your stomach and lower chest, some even reaching the underside of your breasts.
He kept stroking himself through it, milking every drop while watching the mess he made on your skin.
For a moment the room was just heavy breathing and the faint wet sounds of his hand slowing on his cock.
But Jungwon didn't collapse on top of you. he stayed present, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.
"You did so well" he whispered, voice soft and full of affection. "so fucking beautiful when you cum like that. i love watching you lose it for me."
He brushed damp strands of hair away from your face, eyes warm despite the alcohol still lingering in his system. "you okay, baby? that was a lot."
You nodded weakly, still catching your breath. "yeah… really good."
He smiled that cat-like smile and carefully climbed off the bed. "stay right there. don't move."
Jungwon walked over to your dresser, completely comfortable being with his dick out, and grabbed a couple of clean cloths from the drawer.
He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, gently wiping his cum off your stomach and chest with slow, tender strokes.
"Does that feel okay?" he asked quietly.
"It's fine" you murmured, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
When you were mostly clean, he leaned down and kissed your stomach softly. "want me to carry you to the bathroom?"
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. Jungwon pulled his boxers and gray sweatpants back on but left his shirt off, the faint red lines from your nails visible across his back and shoulders.
He slid his arms under you effortlessly —one under your knees, the other behind your back— and lifted you princess-style like you weighed nothing.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom. the cool air of the hallway made you shiver slightly against his warm chest.
He set you down gently on the toilet, making sure you were stable before stepping back a little.
"i'll go change the sheets while you're in here" he said, voice low and intimate, like he was sharing a secret. "where are the extra ones again?"
"Bottom drawer of the big dresser" you answered, sighing as you finally relaxed enough to pee. the relief was immediate after how intense everything had been.
"Got it." he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. "take your time, baby. i'll have everything ready when you come out."
While he was gone, you finished up and stood on slightly shaky legs. you turned to the mirror and froze, eyes widening.
Your neck and shoulders were covered in marks.
Dark hickeys bloomed across your skin — some light pink, others deep red and purplish. there were clear bite marks mixed in, especially near your collarbones.
It looked like you'd been attacked by a very affectionate vampire.
You didn't scream or panic, but your mouth fell open in genuine surprise. "holy shit…" you whispered to your reflection, turning your head to see the damage from different angles. there was no way you'd be able to hide all of these tomorrow.
Jungwon's voice floated from the bedroom. "everything okay in there?"
"Yeah" you called back, still staring at the constellation of love bites. "just… realizing how fucked my neck looks right now."
He laughed softly, the sound warm.
You could hear him shaking out fresh sheets. "sorry, baby. i got a little carried away. but you looked so pretty with my mouth on you… couldn't help it."
You shook your head, a reluctant smile forming as you washed your hands. when you walked back into the bedroom, the bed was already made with clean sheets, the old ones stuffed in your laundry hamper.
Jungwon stood there shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, looking ridiculously soft after everything you'd just done.
He opened his arms for you. "come here."
You walked straight into them. he hugged you close, one hand rubbing slow circles on your bare back while the other stroked your hair.
"You were amazing tonight" he murmured against your temple.
"I needed you so bad… thank you for letting me come over even though i showed up tipsy again." his voice dropped a little, almost shy. "i know you don't like it. i'll try to be better tomorrow, okay? but right now i just wanna hold you.”
You pressed your cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing down.
The faint smell of beer was still there, mixed with sweat and his usual scent. the mix of annoyance and affection you always felt toward him swirled in your chest, but the gentle way he touched you, the sweet words, the way he took care of everything without being asked —made it hard to stay mad.
"You're lucky you're cute when you whine" you muttered.
Jungwon chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. he tilted your chin up and kissed you softly, no hunger this time, just warmth.
"Stay with me tonight?" he asked, even though you were already in your own apartment. "i'll make sure you're okay in the morning. we can even go over your presentation again if you want… after i make you breakfast or something."
You rolled your eyes but nodded, letting him pull you back toward the freshly made bed.
The city outside was quiet. and despite the marks on your neck and the lingering frustration about his drinking, you let him wrap himself around you under the clean sheets — because no matter how many times this pattern repeated, Jungwon's version of "i missed you" always hit different.
Soft, pale morning light slipped through the gaps in your curtains, painting the room in gentle hues of cream and gold.
It was still early — the kind of quiet morning where the city outside hadn't fully woken up yet. you had been lost in a hazy, warm dream, something fuzzy and pleasant that involved sunlight and laughter, when a persistent pressure low in your belly started pulling you back to consciousness.
At first, you thought it was just the need to pee. your eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes heavy with sleep, a small tired groan escaping your lips as you shifted under the sheets.
You had fallen asleep completely naked last night, too exhausted and satisfied to bother with clothes after Jungwon changed the sheets.
The fabric felt cool against your bare skin, and for a second you just lay there, blinking at the ceiling.
The pressure didn't fade. if anything, it grew warmer, wetter, more focused.
Then you felt it — the slow, deliberate drag of a hot tongue between your folds.
Your breath hitched sharply.
"Jungwon…?—" The name came out breathy, half-moan, half-question.
He was settled comfortably between your spread thighs like he'd been there for a while, your legs draped lazily over his shoulders.
His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open while his face was buried in your pussy. his tongue moved in slow, filthy strokes— licking from your entrance all the way up to your clit before swirling around it with obscene patience.
The wet, slick sounds of his mouth filled the quiet bedroom immediately.
He hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.
"Morning, baby" he murmured, voice still raspy from sleep and last night's drinking, that signature soft, slightly husky tone that always hit you right in the chest.
He gave your clit a slow, wet suck before pulling back just enough to speak, lips glistening. "couldn't help it. you looked so peaceful… but your pussy was already a little wet. had to taste you."
"Fuck— what are you doing?" you moaned, hips twitching involuntarily as his tongue dove back in, licking deeper, more messily. "Won… it's too early for this—"
He chuckled softly against your folds, the sound turning into a needy little whine as he buried his tongue inside you, fucking it in and out slowly.
"Waking you up the right way" he answered, words muffled and dirty. "you're my favorite breakfast. so sweet and warm right after sleeping… fuck, you're getting creamy again already."
Your hand flew down instinctively, fingers threading through his soft dark hair. the sensitivity from last night's marathon made every single touch feel electric.
Your clit was swollen and tender, and every flick of his tongue sent sharp sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting up your spine.
"Jungwon—shit, i feel like i'm gonna soak everything" you gasped, back arching slightly off the mattress. "we just changed the sheets last night… i don't have more backups right now—"
"Don't worry about it" he whispered, sucking gently on your clit before lapping at it faster. his tongue was relentless, sloppy and eager, coating his chin and lips in your arousal. "i'll take care of the mess. i always do. just let me eat you, baby. please?"
The plea in his voice — soft, almost whiny — made your stomach flutter. he was being so filthy with his mouth but still so sweet, eyes closed in bliss as he devoured you like he'd been starving for it.
The room quickly filled with wet, pornographic sounds: the constant slick slide of his tongue, the soft suction of his lips around your clit, your own shaky moans growing louder despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
Your back curved sharply off the bed as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "ah—Jungwon!" your grip in his hair tightened, not pulling him away but holding on for dear life.
"It's too much… my clit's so sensitive from last night—fuck, slow down—"
But he didn't slow down. if anything, he pressed his face deeper, nose brushing against your mound as he licked and sucked with renewed hunger.
Long, lewd strokes of his tongue mixed with quick flicks that made your thighs tremble around his head. you could feel yourself getting wetter, that creamy arousal leaking out of you and onto his tongue.
"You're so fucking pretty when you're like this" he groaned against you, voice vibrating deliciously.
He pulled back for a breath, eyes looking up at you with that hazy, adoring gaze — pupils blown wide, ears still slightly pink. "all sleepy and red… moaning my name like that. makes me so hard, baby."
You whimpered, legs shaking as he dove back in. the overstimulation was intense. every single touch felt like too much and not enough at the same time.
Your free hand moved to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts, pinching your nipple as another broken moan left you.
"Won… please, i can't— it's too intense' you begged, voice cracking.
Your hips rolled against his mouth despite your words, chasing the pleasure even as it bordered on overwhelming. "i'm gonna cum too fast if you keep doing that—"
"Good" he whined softly, the sound so pretty and desperate. "want you to cum on my tongue. want to feel you gush for me again." he slid two long fingers into your soaked entrance without warning, curling them instantly against your g-spot while his tongue attacked your clit in tight, fast circles.
The wet squelching sounds grew louder, filthier.
His fingers pumped steadily, perfectly in sync with his mouth. you were dripping down his hand, creamy arousal coating his fingers.
"Jungwon—oh my god" you moaned loudly, head falling back against the pillow. your back arched completely off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as the pressure built impossibly fast. "like that—fuck, don't stop—"
He moaned into your pussy, the vibrations pushing you closer. "that's it, baby. let go. you're squeezing my fingers so tight… so perfect. cum for me. please, i need it."
Your hand tightened in his hair, the other still groping your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers.
The combination of his tongue on your oversensitive clit and his fingers hitting that perfect spot inside you was devastating. you felt that familiar overwhelming rush — the tight, heavy pressure that made you feel like you were about to burst.
"I'm— fuck, Won, i'm gonna—"
He sucked harder on your clit, fingers curling faster, and that was all it took.
Your orgasm hit you like a wave, violent and all-consuming.
A sharp, pornographic moan tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his fingers, gushing wetly against his tongue.
Your entire body shook, back lifted high off the mattress, thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. he didn't stop — he kept licking and sucking gently, prolonging every aftershock while moaning sweetly against your folds, drinking down everything you gave him.
"Fuck… so good" he whispered, voice hoarse and satisfied. "taste so fucking good when you cum."
You were still panting, body twitching with sensitivity, when he finally slowed down. but he didn't pull away completely.
He kept his fingers buried inside you, giving lazy thrusts while his tongue gave soft, soothing licks around your clit, careful not to overwhelm you too much now.
"Look at you" he murmured lovingly, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "all flushed and pretty in the morning light. my beautiful girl."
You let out a breathless laugh mixed with a whimper, eyes half-closed as you tried to catch your breath.
The sensitivity made every small movement of his fingers feel electric.
"Jungwon… you're insane" you managed, voice shaky. "waking me up like this…"
He smiled against your skin, that playful, cat-like grin you loved and hated at the same time.
"Couldn’t resist. you were right there, naked and warm… smelled like sex and me. had to have a taste." he curled his fingers again gently, watching your face.
Jungwon was completely lost in you — whining softly, hips subtly grinding against the mattress for his own relief while he focused entirely on making you fall apart again.
And you let him.
Jungwon didn't hesitate for even a second. he moaned sweetly, loud and pretty, as he pressed his mouth closer and licked every drop left you gave him.
You were left panting hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs trembling as they slipped off his shoulders. your body felt boneless, warm and buzzing with leftover pleasure.
For a long moment you just lay there with your eyes half-closed, trying to catch your breath.
"Jungwon…" you breathed out shakily. "get up here… please."
He pressed one final, soft kiss to your clit before crawling up your body, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your stomach and between your breasts.
When his face hovered above yours, his lips were shiny and swollen, chin glistening with your release. that familiar cat-like smile spread across his face — satisfied, a little proud, and ridiculously soft all at once.
"You okay, baby?" he asked quietly, voice still raspy and sweet. he brushed damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers.
You nodded, still breathing unevenly. "yeah… just… intense. good intense."
Jungwon leaned down and kissed you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
The kiss was lazy and deep, full of morning tenderness. when he pulled back, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the clean cloth he'd left there from last night.
He sat back on his heels between your legs and began wiping you carefully, his touch feather-light and loving.
"You're so fucking pretty right now" he murmured, eyes tracing your flushed cheeks, your messy hair, the way your chest still heaved.
His free hand stroked your waist in slow, soothing circles, thumb brushing the curve of your hip. "all glowing and soft… i could eat you out every morning like this."
You let out a breathless laugh, covering your face with one arm. "you're shameless."
"Only for you." he smiled wider, cleaning your folds "look at that — the sheets are completely dry this time. i swallowed every drop, see? no mess for you to worry about.”
You peeked out from under your arm and glanced down. he was right. thanks to how eagerly he'd devoured your orgasm, the fresh sheets he'd changed last night were still spotless.
The realization made you shake your head with a tired but fond smile.
Jungwon tossed the cloth aside and leaned down again, pressing a kiss to your stomach before sitting up fully. he looked genuinely energized, eyes bright despite the faint hangover haze he probably had. that was typical Jungwon— once he got his fix of you, he could run on pure affection for hours.
"I'm gonna make breakfast" he announced happily, already climbing off the bed. "you rest a little more. i'll call you when it's ready."
He walked over to your closet like he owned the place, pulling out one of the oversized white t-shirts he'd left at your apartment weeks ago.
He slipped it on, the fabric stretching nicely across his shoulders and chest, but kept the same gray sweatpants from yesterday hanging low on his hips. Barefoot, hair still messy from your fingers pulling on it, he looked stupidly domestic and hot at the same time.
You watched him with a small smile as he padded out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. the faint sound of him moving around your kitchen soon followed — cabinets opening, the fridge humming.
It took you a couple of minutes to gather the strength to move.
Your legs still felt a little shaky when you finally sat up. you swung them over the edge of the bed and stood up slowly, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet groan.
The marks on your body pulled slightly as you moved, reminding you of everything from last night.
You made your way to the bathroom, still completely naked. the moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you paused.
"Jesus Christ…" you whispered.
The hickeys and bite marks looked even more obvious in the daylight.
Your neck was a canvas of pink, red, and purplish spots. several dark ones sat right under your jaw and along your collarbones, joined by clear teeth marks on your shoulders. you turned slightly, eyes widening at the full extent.
There was no way you could hide all of them with just a hoodie.
You sighed deeply, running your fingers over one particularly dark mark. part of you wanted to be annoyed — he always got carried away when he drank — but another part felt a stupid flutter at the possessiveness behind them.
Still, the frustration lingered. this was becoming a pattern.
Shaking your head, you turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. the water felt amazing against your sore muscles.
You took your time, washing your body carefully, letting the steam fill the small bathroom while your mind wandered. Jungwon's laughter floated faintly from the kitchen, along with the smell of something cooking — probably eggs and toast, knowing him.
By the time you stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself, you felt a little more awake.
You wiped the condensation off the mirror again and stared at the marks one last time, tracing one with your fingertip.
"You're lucky i like you" you muttered to yourself with a small, reluctant smile.
You dried off and threw on comfortable clothes — loose shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt that at least covered most of your neck and shoulders.
When you finally walked into the kitchen, Jungwon was plating food at the small counter. he looked up immediately, that bright, boyish smile spreading across his face the second he saw you.
"There she is" he said warmly, voice full of affection. "how do you feel? come eat while it's hot."
He'd made simple breakfast — scrambled eggs with cheese, toast with butter, and some fruit he'd cut up. two glasses of orange juice sat ready.
He pulled you into a gentle back hug before you could sit down, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
"You smell nice" he murmured. "did you shower? sorry about all the marks by the way… i got a bit excited."
You leaned back against his chest for a moment, letting yourself enjoy the warmth before the usual mid-morning reality settled in.
"Yeah… i saw them" you replied quietly. "there's a lot this time, Won."
He hummed softly, squeezing your waist. "i know. i'll be more careful next time." but the way he said it sounded more like a hopeful promise than a guarantee.
You sat down together at the small table in your kitchen. Jungwon watched you take the first bite with that attentive, cat-like focus he always had when it came to you. the food was good — simple but comforting.
The quiet morning felt peaceful, but that familiar knot of worry about his drinking habits was already starting to creep back in.
For now, though, you let yourself enjoy the domestic moment: Jungwon in your apartment, barefoot in your kitchen, looking at you like you hung the moon.
Even if you knew this perfect morning came right after another night of him showing up drunk probably.
You were sitting at the small kitchen table, still a little sleepy but genuinely hungry after the morning activities.
The scrambled eggs were fluffy and cheesy, the toast perfectly buttered, and the cut fruit was sweet and cold. you ate like a little kid — cheeks slightly puffed, taking big bites and humming happily with each one, one foot swinging lightly under the table.
It was one of those unconscious habits you had when you felt comfortable.
Jungwon stood by the counter for a second, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with the softest, most fond smile on his face. his eyes curved into those pretty crescents, the same ones that made your stomach flip every single time.
"Look at you" he murmured, voice warm and amused. "eating like that makes me want to cook for you every day."
He was about to pull out the chair and sit across from you when the sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the peaceful morning.
Ding-dong.
Your fork paused halfway to your mouth. you already knew.
The sigh that left you was heavy and knowing. Jungwon's expression shifted too — he glanced at you, reading the look on your face instantly.
He knew exactly what was coming.
"I got it" he said quietly, before you could even speak.
He ran a quick hand through his hair, somehow making it look even better despite the messy night and morning you'd both had.
The white t-shirt hugged his shoulders nicely, and those gray sweatpants still hung low on his hips. he looked annoyingly put-together for someone who had been nose-deep inside you less than an hour ago.
Jungwon walked to the door and opened it with a light, polite smile.
Mrs. Park was standing there in all her glory.
She clearly hadn't bothered getting ready. her bleached blonde hair was frizzy and unkempt, dark roots showing at the scalp.
She wore an old robe over pajamas, arms crossed tightly under her chest. at 47, the years showed in the deep lines around her mouth and the permanent scowl etched into her face. she looked exactly like the type of neighbor who lived for this kind of confrontation.
"Good morning" Jungwon said calmly, keeping that polite smile. "is there a problem, ma'am?"
Mrs. Park didn't even bother with pleasantries. her eyes narrowed immediately.
"Your bed is literally pushed against my wall" she started, voice sharp and accusatory.
"I heard everything. every single sound. the moaning, the bed creaking, the filthy talking… all of it. at eight in the morning! have some respect, for God's sake. this is not a love hotel."
Jungwon's ears turned a light shade of red, but he kept his composure. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking appropriately sheepish.
"I'm really sorry" he said sincerely. "we didn't mean to disturb you. it won't happen again."
Mrs. Park scoffed. "sorry? i've had to listen to this nonsense multiple times now. last night too! the walls are thin, you know. i could hear her moaning your name like some cheap porn actress. disgusting."
Jungwon apologized again, softer this time. "i understand. we'll be more careful. really. sorry for the inconvenience."
The woman's face twisted "if this keeps happening, i'm actually going to file a formal complaint with the building management. i'm not joking. find somewhere else to do your little activities."
Jungwon nodded quickly, not giving her any more fuel. "understood. thank you for letting us know."
Before Mrs. Park could keep ranting, he gently closed the door, cutting her off mid-sentence.
The second the door clicked shut, he let out a long breath and turned around.
You were still at the table, mouth full of eggs and toast, staring at him with raised eyebrows. you swallowed quickly and pointed your fork at him.
"Told you." you said, voice muffled but smug.
Jungwon leaned against the door for a second, then walked back to the table with a playful smirk. he dropped into the chair across from you, stealing a piece of toast from your plate.
"If you say that one more time" he warned teasingly, eyes sparkling with mischief, "i'm gonna make Mrs. Park have a real reason to complain. right here. right now."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped. "you're actually insane. she literally just threatened to file a complaint and you're already joking about it."
He shrugged, biting into the stolen toast. "what do you want me to do? cry about it?" his foot nudged yours under the table. "besides… you weren't exactly quiet either, baby."
You kicked his leg lightly. "because you're way too needy. you woke me up with your face between my legs when i was still sensitive from last night. and then you kept going even when i said it was too much."
Jungwon leaned forward on his elbows, chin resting on his hand, watching you with that intense, cat-like focus. his voice dropped a little, low and teasing.
"Yeah… and i could do it again right now" he said smoothly. "even if you tell me you're sore. even if you say you don't want it. i know exactly how to touch you until you're begging for more. until you're dripping again and forgetting all about Mrs. Park."
You felt heat crawl up your neck — the same neck currently covered in his marks. you pointed your fork at him again.
"See? needy. you literally cannot go more than a few hours without touching me."
He grinned, unashamed. "guilty. but can you blame me?" his hand reached across the table, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "you're my girlfriend. my pretty, smart, hard-working girl who lives alone and lets me come over even when i show up tipsy. of course i'm obsessed with you."
There it was again — that soft manipulation wrapped in genuine-sounding affection.
It always made the frustration in your chest twist uncomfortably. You looked down at your plate, pushing the eggs around with your fork.
"You know it bothers me when you drink and then come looking for sex" you said quietly, the theme creeping back in. "and now the neighbor is threatening to complain because you can't keep it down when you're horny."
Jungwon's expression softened. he stood up and walked around the table, crouching beside your chair so he could look up at you properly.
His hands rested on your thighs, thumbs stroking gently.
"I know" he murmured. "i'm sorry. i really am. last night i just… missed you too much. work was long, my head was killing me, and the only thing that makes sense when i drink is wanting to be with you." he pressed a kiss to your knee. "i'll try to be quieter next time. and… i'll try to drink less. okay?"
You stared at him. he looked sincere — those big dark eyes, the slight pout, the way his hands kept caressing your legs like he needed the contact.
It was hard to stay mad when he got like this.
"You always say that" you whispered.
"I mean it this time." he stood up and leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. "eat your breakfast, baby. it's getting cold."
You sighed but went back to eating. Jungwon sat beside you now instead of across, one arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers playing with the ends of your hair while he ate with his other hand.
The domesticity of it was almost too much. he looked so comfortable in your apartment, like he belonged here.
After a few minutes of quiet eating, he spoke again, voice lighter.
"Mrs. Park really needs to get laid, huh? she sounded jealous as hell."
You almost choked on your orange juice. "Jungwon!"
"What? it's true" he laughed, that pretty, bright laugh that always made you weak. "she was mad she could hear us having good sex and she's probably getting none."
You smacked his arm, but you were smiling despite yourself. "you're going to get us evicted."
"Nah. i'll charm the building manager if it comes to that." he leaned in and kissed your neck — right on one of the darker hickeys — making you shiver. "or i can just fuck you against the wall that's not connected to her apartment next time."
"Needy and horny again already" you muttered, rolling your eyes.
Jungwon hummed, nuzzling closer. "always. especially when you're wearing my shirt and have my marks all over you." his hand slid higher on your thigh, teasing the hem of your shorts. "still sensitive?"
"Yes" you warned, but your voice wasn't very convincing.
He smiled against your skin. "i could make it feel good anyway… slow and careful. until you're the one making noise again."
You pushed his face away gently, laughing. "finish your breakfast, you animal."
He grinned victoriously and went back to eating, but his hand stayed possessively on your thigh the entire time, thumb drawing lazy circles.
The morning light kept pouring in, warm and soft, while Mrs. Park's threats lingered somewhere in the back of your mind.
Jungwon was still here — affectionate, playful, a little manipulative, and completely wrapped up in you. And even though the frustration about his drinking was still simmering underneath, you let yourself enjoy this version of him for a little longer.
The needy, sweet, impossible boy who made mornings feel this good.
The plates were nearly empty now, just a few crumbs and a smear of egg left behind.
You leaned back in your chair, letting out a satisfied little sigh as you wiped your mouth with a napkin. the food had actually been really good — simple but warm, exactly what you needed after the intense start to the day.
"That was actually delicious" you said softly, smiling at him. "thank you for making breakfast. you didn't have to."
Jungwon's face lit up with that bright, boyish grin that made his eyes curve into pretty crescents. he cracked his knuckles once, stretching his fingers, then pushed his chair back.
"Glad you liked it" he replied, voice warm. "i'll go shower real quick. i still smell like last night… and this morning." he winked at you playfully as he stood up.
You got up too, stretching your arms high above your head with a soft groan. your muscles were still a little sore in the best way.
Instead of heading back to the bedroom, you wandered over to the living room and perched yourself on the wide armrest of the sofa, one leg dangling while the other stayed planted on the cushion.
You watched him move around, enjoying the casual domesticity of it all.
Jungwon was halfway to the bathroom when he paused.
He turned around and walked straight toward you instead, that familiar glint in his eyes. he stopped right in front of you, stepping between your spread legs like it was the most natural thing in the world.
One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, thumb brushing across your skin with surprising tenderness.
His other hand settled high on your thigh, fingers stroking slow, lazy circles on the bare skin just under the hem of your shorts.
"I love you" he said quietly, voice low and sincere. his dark eyes locked onto yours, intense and soft all at once. "so fucking much. you know that, right?"
You let out a small huff, half-amused, half-exasperated, but your cheeks warmed anyway. your hand came up to rest on his wrist, not pulling him away, just holding him there.
"I love you too, Won" you murmured. "but calm down a little… we just ate."
Jungwon let out one short, bright laugh — that pretty sound that always made your chest feel lighter.
He leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours, his breath warm against your skin. the hand on your cheek slid back slightly, fingers threading into your hair while the one on your thigh squeezed gently, possessively.
"Say it again" he whispered, lips brushing your cheek in a soft kiss. "tell me how much you love me."
You squirmed a little on the armrest, complaining under your breath even as you tilted your head to give him better access. "Jungwon… you're so annoying sometimes."
But your voice came out quieter, softer, almost breathy. your fingers tightened around his wrist as you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes a little wider, shoulders relaxing under his touch.
"I love you… a lot. more than i probably should, considering how much trouble you give me."
The words came out gentle and yielding, almost like you were giving him exactly what he wanted without being able to stop yourself.
Your free hand rested on his chest, not pushing him away but tracing small patterns over the white t-shirt.
Jungwon's reaction was immediate.
His breath hitched. that needy glint in his eyes sharpened as he pressed closer, hips shifting forward until he was flush between your legs.
A soft, pretty whine escaped his throat — low and desperate.
"Baby… you can't say it like that" he murmured, voice already rougher. he kissed your cheek again, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw.
"So sweet and soft for me… makes me want to keep you here all day."
His hand on your thigh slid higher, fingertips slipping under the edge of your shorts, stroking the warm skin there. not demanding yet, but clearly hungry.
You could already feel him starting to get hard against your inner thigh through the gray sweatpants.
"Won…" you complained weakly, but you didn’t move away. your fingers curled into his shirt instead, holding onto him. "you literally just said you were going to shower."
"I will" he promised, but he made no move to leave.
Instead, he nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing over one of the many marks he'd left the night before. "just… five more minutes. let me hold you like this."
He sounded so needy already — that slight whine in his voice, the way his hands kept moving on you like he couldn't stop touching.
One moment he was caressing your cheek lovingly, the next his fingers were squeezing your thigh like he wanted to pull you even closer.
You sighed, tilting your head to the side as he kissed along your marked neck. "you're impossible. Mrs. Park just threatened us and you're already trying to start something again."
Jungwon chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly. "she can threaten whatever she wants. right now i just want my girlfriend to keep telling me she loves me while i touch her."
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, eyes half-lidded. "c'mon, baby. one more time. tell me."
You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break through. your voice came out even softer this time, almost shy, eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up to his.
"I love you, Jungwon" you whispered, sounding small and sweet and completely wrapped around his finger. "i love you even when you drive me crazy… even when you show up drunk and needy… even when you leave marks all over me."
A full-body shiver ran through him.
He let out a low, needy groan and pressed his forehead to yours, hips rolling forward once, slowly, grinding against you just enough for you to feel how hard he was getting.
"Shit… you're gonna kill me saying it like that" he whined, voice cracking slightly in that pretty way it always did when he got desperate.
"I love you too. so much it's stupid. i can't even think straight when i'm around you."
His hand left your cheek to slide down your side, gripping your waist as he kissed you properly — deep, slow, and hungry.
His tongue brushed yours, tasting like orange juice. when he pulled back, his breathing was already heavier.
"You're still sensitive, right?" he asked, almost hopeful, fingers tracing the edge of your shorts again. "i could be really gentle… just use my mouth again or my fingers. i just want to make you feel good."
You laughed breathlessly, pushing lightly at his chest even as your legs parted a little more around him.
"Go shower. i'm still recovering from this morning."
Jungwon pouted — actually pouted — but there was a playful spark in his eyes.
He stole one last kiss, then another, before finally stepping back with visible reluctance. His sweatpants did nothing to hide how affected he was.
"Fine" he sighed dramatically, but he was smiling. "but when i get out… you're sitting on my lap while we watch something. deal?"
You rolled your eyes fondly. "deal. now go before i change my mind and make you wash the dishes too."
He laughed and finally headed toward the bathroom, glancing back at you one last time with that needy look that always made your heart do stupid things.
The warmth in your chest battled with that familiar knot of worry — about his drinking, about how easily he could melt your frustration with sweet words and gentle hands, about how much you let him get away with.
Still… mornings like this with Jungwon were dangerously addictive.
You stayed perched on the armrest of the sofa for a long moment, fingers absently brushing over your lips where he'd kissed you.
They still felt warm, slightly swollen. your skin tingled everywhere he'd touched — your cheek, your thigh, the back of your neck.
You let out a long, heavy sigh and dragged a hand down your face.
God, he's exhausting.
You were still sensitive from this morning.
Your clit felt puffy and tender, your insides a little sore in that deep, used way that made every shift of your thighs noticeable. part of you wanted to just sit here, scroll on your phone, and let your body recover.
But another, louder part — the one that always lost when it came to Jungwon — was already buzzing with leftover heat.
You glanced toward the closed bathroom door. the faint sound of water running reached your ears.
"Fuck it" you muttered under your breath.
You stood up and walked down the short hallway.
The moment you opened the bathroom door, a wave of warm, humid air hit you, thick with steam and the clean scent of your body wash.
Jungwon was behind the shower curtain, the silhouette of his body visible through the semi-transparent fabric.
"You almost done?" you asked, voice casual even though your pulse was already picking up.
The curtain slid open a few inches. Jungwon peeked out, water streaming down his face and dark hair.
It was plastered to his forehead, droplets clinging to his lashes. He smiled — that bright, cat-like smile that made his eyes curve — completely unbothered by the fact that he was naked and half-hard already.
"Not yet" he answered, voice slightly raised over the sound of the water. "why?"
You didn't reply with words.
Instead, you held his gaze and slowly reached for the hem of your shirt.
Jungwon's eyes followed every movement as you pulled it over your head, revealing your bare chest.
You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and panties together, sliding them down your legs at a deliberately slow pace, stepping out of them one foot at a time.
A low, surprised sound escaped his throat — something between a groan and a whine.
"Baby…" His eyes roamed shamelessly over your body, taking in every curve, every mark he'd left on your neck and shoulders last night. the hunger in his gaze was instant.
You stepped into the shower with him, closing the curtain behind you.
Warm water immediately cascaded over your skin, soaking you in seconds. you moved closer until your bodies were almost touching, sliding your hands up his wet chest and over his shoulders.
Your palms explored the smooth planes of his back, tracing the faint red lines your nails had left there earlier. your faces were inches apart, water running down both of you.
Jungwon's cock was fully hard now, pressing hot and heavy against your stomach.
"You told me to calm down" he murmured, voice low and teasing, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "and here you are, stripping for me and getting all needy in the shower."
"I'm not needy" you protested, even as your hands kept roaming his body. "don't bother me."
But even as the words left your mouth, you were already leaning in.
Your lips met his in a slow, deep kiss that quickly turned hungry. the water made everything slick — your tongues sliding together, lips wet and warm.
You could taste the faint trace of breakfast and the clean mint of his toothpaste. Jungwon's arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as he kissed you back with obvious want, one hand sliding down to grip your ass.
When you finally broke the kiss, breathing heavier, you looked up at him with dark eyes.
"This time" you said, voice dropping, "i want you to fuck me hard enough that i don't want any more intimacy for the rest of the day."
Jungwon's breath hitched. his pupils blew wide.
You turned around before he could respond, bracing your hands on the shower wall. you bent forward slightly, arching your back and pushing your ass back toward him, water streaming down your spine.
He didn't need to be told twice.
His hands caressed your sides first — slow, appreciative strokes from your waist to your hips. then you felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance, sliding through your folds once, twice, coating himself in your wetness.
"Fuck, you're already so creamy" he groaned.
He pushed inside in one smooth, firm thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Your pussy was still sensitive from earlier, so the sudden stretch pulled a broken, high moan out of you. your fingers tightened hard around the shower fixture, knuckles turning white.
"Shit— Jungwon…"
"You okay?" he asked immediately, voice tight with restraint even as his hips pressed flush against your ass. "if you want me to stop, just say it."
"Don't stop" you breathed, pushing back against him. "just… fuck me."
That was all the permission he needed.
Jungwon gripped your hips tighter and started thrusting— deep, hard strokes that made the wet slap of skin against skin echo loudly in the small shower.
The sound was filthy, unmistakable, mixing with the rush of water. he groaned low in his throat, that pretty, needy sound you loved.
"God, baby… you're so fucking wet and tight" he panted, snapping his hips harder. "listen to how wet you are. i can hear it every time i push in."
Each thrust rocked you forward, your breasts swaying with the force.
The water made everything slicker, louder. Jungwon's pace was relentless but controlled — deep enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke, hard enough that your moans kept spilling out uncontrollably.
Your grip on the fixture tightened as pleasure mixed with the slight ache of overstimulation. it felt overwhelming in the best way — too much and not enough.
"Harder" you gasped, voice shaky. "you said you could make me want it even when i'm sensitive…"
Jungwon let out a soft whine and obeyed, fucking you harder.
The sound of his hips slapping against your ass grew wetter, sharper.
One of his hands slid around to your front, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles while he kept pounding into you from behind.
"Like this?" he asked, voice raspy and sweet even as he railed you. "tell me how it feels, baby. i love hearing you."
"So deep— fuck, Won…" you moaned brokenly, forehead pressing against the cool tile. "you're hitting everything."
He groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back, lips brushing your ear as he kept thrusting.
"You feel so good… so fucking good. i can't get enough of you." his fingers kept working your clit, never faltering. "even when you're sore you're still this wet for me."
The steam, the heat, the constant stream of water, and the way he filled you so completely had your head spinning.
Every hard thrust made your sensitive walls flutter around him, creamy arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs, washed away instantly by the shower.
Jungwon's free hand gripped your waist harder, pulling you back onto him with every snap of his hips. his moans were getting prettier — those soft, whiny sounds mixed with low groans every time you clenched around him.
"Tell me again" he panted against your neck, sucking lightly on one of the marks he'd left yesterday. "tell me you love me while i'm fucking you like this."
You could barely form words, but you tried anyway, voice shaky and submissive.
"I love you… fuck— i love you, Jungwon."
He whined loudly, hips stuttering for a second before he recovered and fucked you even deeper.
"Again" he begged, voice cracking beautifully. "please, baby."
The shower continued to rain down on both of you as Jungwon kept that punishing, delicious rhythm — hard, deep, and relentless, just like you'd asked.
Your moans mixed with his pretty sounds, the wet slap of skin, and the constant rush of water. your body trembled under the intensity, still sensitive but chasing more.
And Jungwon gave it to you without hesitation.
Jungwon's hips snapped against your ass with deep, forceful thrusts, the loud wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles with every stroke.
Your creamy arousal made everything obscenely slick — you could literally hear how wet you were every time he buried himself to the hilt.
"Fuck, baby… you're dripping down my cock" he groaned, voice husky and needy.
One hand gripped your hip hard while the other kept rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles. "you're squeezing me so tight."
You moaned brokenly, forehead pressed against the cool tile, fingers white-knuckled around the shower fixture.
Every hard thrust sent sparks shooting through your overstimulated body. it hurt so good — that perfect mix of soreness and pleasure that only Jungwon could pull out of you.
"Won— ahh, shit— right there" you gasped, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "faster… please."
Jungwon whined loudly, the pretty sound vibrating against your back as he leaned over you.
He fucked you deeper, faster, the head of his cock dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke. "i love you so much. love being inside you like this. you feel so warm and wet— fuck, i can't get enough."
The steam made everything feel closer, more intense. water streamed down your joined bodies, mixing with sweat. Jungwon's moans were getting louder, less controlled — those sweet, whiny sounds that always drove you crazy.
But you needed more than this position. you needed to see him.
"Wait—" you breathed, voice shaky. "turn me around."
Jungwon slowed instantly, pulling out carefully.
He helped you turn, hands gentle on your waist despite how hard he was breathing. the second you faced him, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours in a messy, desperate kiss. water cascaded over your faces as you both melted into it.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
Jungwon grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the tiled wall. you wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles locking behind his back.
He lined himself up and pushed back inside in one smooth thrust, burying himself completely.
"Oh my god—" you moaned loudly against his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Fuck, baby… this is better" he panted, forehead pressed to yours.
His dark eyes were half-lidded, glassy with lust and affection. "i want to see your face when you cum."
He started moving again — deep, rolling thrusts that ground his pelvis against your clit with every stroke.
The new angle made him feel even bigger, pressing right against that perfect spot inside you. your bodies were flush together, skin sliding against wet skin, hearts pounding in sync.
Jungwon's moans were right in your ear now, soft and needy.
"I love you" he whispered between thrusts, voice cracking. "love you so much it hurts sometimes. you're everything to me." he kissed you again, slower this time, almost reverent, even as his hips kept that steady, deep rhythm.
"I'm yours—" you gasped, fingers threading through his wet hair. "only yours, Won. i love you… fuck, i love you so much."
He whined loudly, hips stuttering before he recovered and fucked you harder, deeper.
The sound of your bodies meeting was loud and wet, echoing in the shower. your moans mixed with his — raw, unrestrained, needy.
"You're getting tighter" he groaned, burying his face in your neck, sucking on one of the dark marks he'd left yesterday. "gonna cum for me, baby? want you to cum all over my cock while i'm inside you."
You nodded frantically, legs tightening around his waist.
The pressure was building fast again, that overwhelming heat coiling low in your belly.
Every thrust, every grind against your clit, every sweet word in your ear pushed you closer.
"Close— i'm so close, Won" you moaned, voice breaking. your nails dragged down his back, leaving fresh red lines.
"Me too" he panted, voice whiny and desperate. "look at me, baby. please— wanna see you."
You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. his hair was soaked, water dripping from his lashes, cheeks flushed.
He looked beautiful — needy, loving, completely lost in you. he kept one arm under your thigh for support while his other hand reached between you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect circles.
"Cum with me" he begged softly, hips snapping harder. "please, baby. let me feel you. i need it."
The intimacy of it — his eyes locked on yours, bodies pressed so close, water falling around you like a curtain — pushed you over the edge.
"Jungwon—!" your orgasm hit hard, walls clenching rhythmically around his cock as intense pleasure crashed through you. you moaned loudly, shamelessly, thighs shaking around his waist as you came.
The feeling of you pulsing around him sent Jungwon over right after.
His hips stuttered, burying himself as deep as possible as he came with a gorgeous, broken moan — that signature soft, husky voice cracking into pretty whines.
"Fuck— baby, i'm cumming— ahh, shit—" he groaned long and deep, hips grinding into you as thick, warm spurts filled you up.
His face buried in your neck, body trembling against yours while he rode out every wave, moaning sweetly the entire time.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the running water and your heavy breathing. Jungwon held you close, still buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your body like he never wanted to let go.
He was the first to move, pressing soft, lazy kisses along your neck and jaw until he reached your lips. the kiss was slow and gentle now, full of affection.
"You okay?" he whispered against your mouth, voice hoarse. "wasn't too hard?"
You shook your head, smiling tiredly. "it was perfect… intense, but perfect."
He smiled back — that soft, cat-like smile — and carefully lowered your legs until your feet touched the floor.
He stayed close, holding you steady when your legs wobbled. without a word, he reached for your body wash, squeezing some into his hands.
"Let me take care of you" he murmured.
He lathered the soap between his palms and started washing you with gentle, loving touches.
His hands glided over your shoulders, down your arms, across your chest.
He was extra careful around your breasts and between your legs, cleaning you with soft strokes while pressing occasional kisses to your wet skin.
He tilted your chin up and kissed you again — slow, deep, and full of quiet love. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, water still raining down on both of you.
"I really do love you" he said quietly. "not just when i'm tipsy. all the time. even when you're mad at me for drinking… even when Mrs. Park threatens us." He gave you a small, sheepish smile. "i know i mess up sometimes. but you're the best part of my day."
You swallowed hard, emotions swirling in your chest.
"I love you too" you whispered back, hugging him tighter. "just… try to be careful, okay?"
"I will" he promised, kissing the top of your head. he held you for a long time after that, just hugging you under the spray, hands rubbing slow circles on your back.
Eventually he turned off the water and grabbed your biggest towel, wrapping it around you first before drying himself.
He helped you out of the shower, still supporting you when your legs felt shaky. in the steamy bathroom, he dried your hair gently with another towel, then your body, pressing soft kisses wherever he touched.
The morning had been intense — loud, needy, intimate, and messy in the best way. and even with everything still unsaid about his habits, Jungwon's care made it hard to regret any of it.
going from innocent love making to nasty fucking, like rabbits in heat. requested by anon :)
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: shyinnocent!jungwon x shyinnocent!femreader to freaky!jungwon and freaky!reader
SMUT, established relationship, little bit of fluff, loss of virginity, dom!won x sub!reader, missionary, 69, face sitting, exhibitionism, praise!kink (fem!receiving), oral (fem & male receiving), hair pulling, mention of safe word and use of tapping as safe word method, squirting, choking (fem!receiving)!, oral fixation, not proofread (2.8k words)
boyfriend!jungwon who has a reputation of being a sweetheart. big eyes and a smile that holds the power to melt the coldest glaciers. he couldn't stop blushing when he confessed his feelings to you, hands shaking while holding out the carefully picked out bouquet. even after you two got together you could feel the slight tremble of your interlinked fingers.
boyfriend!jungwon wanted to be your first time to be in missionary to see your beautiful face and make sure you're well the entire time
he asked all of his friends, went on every article that talked about "how to make your first time memorable". poor boy was haunted by anything going wrong in his sleep, but he wanted to make sure it was perfect since it was both of yours first times :( when it actually happened he was so so nervous, every second sentence was a "are you sure this is okay?" or "do you want to stop?". he's just so unbelievably happy that you feel safe enough to let him see you like this oh my sweet boy :( hearing your small little gasps turning into shy moans did things to him (and his dick) that he didn't even knew were possible. it was incredibly vanilla, shy kisses, innocent touches and small giggles but it was sweet and perfect. afterwards he held you closer than he's ever done before, lips never leaving your cheek or temple. he's full on nuzzling you, he gets incredibly clingy :')
boyfriend!jungwon who goes on a reddit deep dive with you after you tried the #basics
yes, he enjoyed a good missionary fuck or the occasional cowgirl. it's nice, it's intimate and he loves it. BUT he cannot stop wondering what more there is to try. so one night, when you two were just laying on the couch, your head rested against the crook of his neck, just dozing away he opens up reddit. "baby," he presses a little kiss on your head and you stir, "come look at this." you turn — and are greeted with 50 positions that you HAVE to try with your partner. "what on earth is a maternity- no wait mating press?" you mumble and he shrugs. one google search later, both of your eyes were wide open. "i am....." he starts. "...intruiged." you finish his sentence. you two eye each other, smiled spreading on both of your faces before you jump up and run to the bedroom.
boyfriend!jungwon cannot stop giggling at first when you try new positions.
the first time you tried 69 mans was GIGGLING into your pussy, the position was too silly to him. "won be serious, this was your idea." you mumble, hand squeezing his cock and he moans. " sorry baby, i just keep thinking of the memes." now, you can't have this man thinking about memes when your pretty pussy hovers rights above him so without further thought you just sit down on him — no warning and his face has become your seat. and jungwon enters heaven, his nose on your clit, mouth on your precum drenched cunt and all thoughts of unseriousness GONE! and when your mouth simultaneously is in his dick, moaning around because he's absolutely devouring you and slobbering your juices (it's literally running down his chin YUM) he only gets more eager, licking away at your folds and you meet him with enthusiastic bobs of your head and tongue swirls around his dick <33
another time, the position didn't even have a name, he eventually just got incredibly creative with it. it seemed like it was his mission to bend your body and intertwine himself with you until you couldn't be untangled. your head flat on the bed, body half twisted, you couldn't even decipher where one of his legs is. his hand was, the romantic that he is, entangled with yours and you give it a slight tug. "wonie, baby, i don't know if this is working." you giggle and his head snaps up. "you're not feeling good, baby?" worry coated his voice and you melted. "no, i just can't really feel you IN me babe." his face drops and he immediately detangles himself from you "now we can't have that," he mumbles, "need you fucking filled with me." he's dead serious and it's the most hilarious thing you've seen. "you won't be laughing for long..." he mutters, sly grin on his face. that man will devote his life to get you moaning and begging.
boyfriend!jungwon who keeps a list of things to try and literally whips it out when you're about to get down and dirty lol
"wait, baby" he pants into your ear as he has you pressed against the glass window that over looks the city. exhibitionism was on the list today and he has you high up against the window, technically for the entire city to see. "let me just..." he reaches back, cock still drilling into you as he reaches for his phone. it looks absolutely ridiculous, he's absolutely destroying your insides with his tongue poking out since his face id isn't working. "there." he exclaims with joy, you feel his hand tangling your hair and a tug. the delicious sting of your pulled hair and the feeling of him deep inside you earning eager moans from you. "there we fucking go, princess. don't you just look fucking gorgeous falling apart on me." which brings me to the next point!!
boyfriend!jungwon loves to praise you and goes absolutely feral when you get more vocal at his sweet degration
it started out innocent. he simply wanted to make sure you knew how nice you feel, how much he loves you. but with more filthy positions came more swear words from him, so a "gosh you're so pretty, you feel so good for me" turned into a "you're the hottest fucking thing i've ever seen, sweet pussy made for my cock, look at you swallowing me. you love going dumb on my cock don't you baby?". ughhh and you whine so deliciously, head shyly turning away, which he cannot tolerate, so he grabs your face, more roughly than he anticipated but when he noticed you moaning at the feeling of his fingertips digging into the flesh of your cheek, he discovered something new about you. from that moment on he makes it his mission to make you moan a little louder than last time, adding another finger, stimulating your clit in a different way or licking and sucking away at the sweet spot on your neck :3 he especially loves making you loud in places where you SHOULDN'T be loud, he loves the thrill. getting caught is not something he wants, you're for his eyes only but it's a nice little challenge he likes to give you. because sweet girls who do well get extra sweet treatment ><
boyfriend!jungwon feels like he just committed treason when you end up not liking something new :(
turns out you don't like something and he full on stops "do you want some space?" immediately withdrawing any skin contact, "no, no won i want you, this just wasn't it for me today. maybe some other time?" you pout, guilt eating away at you. "baby, hey," he coos, hands cradling your face. "you never have to feel bad for saying no, i need you to tell me when even the slightest thing doesn't feel right for you, otherwise i don't have fun either. this is a you and me thing." leaning in, he peppers a few kisses across your cheek and nose, making you giggle. "what does my sweet girl want to do, hm? want me to eat you out so you run your pretty little head off?" at that your eyes sparkle and he grins. big hands guide you to lay flat on your back as he positions himself between your knees. soft kisses adore your inner thighs as he makes his way to your dripping hole.
boyfriend!jungwon who then made you sit down and have a chat about a safe word!
whether that is pineapple, the colour system or tapping. he doesn't care WHAT you choose as long AS you choose and use it! and when you used it for the first time he was filled with so much love and pride. you were giving him the blowjob of the century, literally he was grabbing onto the wall, mouth open, eyes screwed shut. he was so lost in the feeling that without thinking, one hand flew down to your hair as he pulled your head closer, his cock impossible deep inside your throat as he snaps his hips toward. you've had him down your throat before (he did lowkey train you) but at some point it's bound to be on much. your moans turn into mumbles as you try to mutter out your discomfort, brain turning into mush at the overstimulation :( weakly, you hit the inside of his thigh a few times, getting his attention. he immediately snaps out of it, releases your hair and slowly pulls out of you to make sure the sudden rush of air doesn't overwhelm you. and yes, he loves to see you pathetic for him, but the sight of you coughing repeatedly makes him so upset. tears fill HIS eyes as he crouches down to your level to scoop you into his arms. "i'm so sorry angel, i should've held back." he mumbles into your hair as he softly strokes it, rocking you back and forth. you manage a hum, throat still to sore to speak and he feels his heart break. he blames himself so much :(( "i'm so proud of you for using our safety methods baby, you did so so well." a thousand kisses adore your forehead. " 's okay wonie" you mumble back, sleepy from the whole experience. "i know you didn't mean to." sweet boy picks you up and carries you to the bed. he watches you drift off to sleep in his arms, checking on the outside for any bruises or scratches. only when he saw tho injuries he allows himself to drift off too, arms tightly wrapped around you and face in your neck, breathing in the smell of you he oh so loves.
boyfriend!jungwon has an obsession with squirting, as soon as he knew it was possible it has become his life mission to find the quickest way to drain all liquid from you.....
the first time it wasn't planned, really it had been quite innocent. after a long day, jungwon just couldn't wait to be inside you and forget about the world for a few hours. everyone had been pissing him off, your pussy the only remedy. one orgasm turned into two and he showed absolutely no signs of stopping. "wonie, 's too much." you lulled out, drunk on the sting of his cock nudging your insides. "i know baby, just one more" he whispered, lips brushing your ears. "i know you can do that for me, hm?" he knew that you'd do anything to make him proud, so you clutched him a little tighter and focused on the hot sensation bubbling up in your abdomen. what you didn't expect, was for him to suddenly press his thumb to your already sensitive clit, rubbing deliberate circles onto the soft bud. your back arched, chest meeting his as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulder. "ngh—won! wait," you squealed. "fuckkk, baby you clench so fucking nicely around me." he groaned, lips messily meeting yours, eagerly hushing your desperate gasps and whimpers. "something—, something feels different." you gasp and before you knew it the coil in your stomach snapped and warm liquid spilled down both of your thighs. jungwon stopped all his movements, eyes focused on your pulsing pussy as you writhe around the bed. still in a haze, you looked at him with frightened eyes. "i'm so sorry..." you choked out. "don't know what happened i couldn't stop it i swear!" he still didn't say anything and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. that finally made him snap out of his own haze. "holy shit baby, you're the hottest fucking thing i've ever seen." his lips met the soft flesh of you chest as he started peppering kisses up to you neck, nipping at it slightly. "you know what you just did? i read about this." he mumbled and you shook your head. "think you just squirted baby, that's like...the biggest fucking compliment ever." your eyes meet and he almost cooed at your innocent expression, teary eyes making you look like an absolute doll. "baby, nooo, you did well, i'm not mad i'm so sorry!" he added, rolling you over so you were on top of him. "sorry my angel, i just didn't expect you to do that." he whispered, playing with a lock of your hair. "didn't know what was happening," you mumbled into his chest and he felt his heart swell. "must've been so scary for you baby, but you did so so well. you could never do anything to upset me angel, okay?" "mhm" you mumble back sleepily, the weight of your orgasm still tingling on your tired out limbs. little did you know that while you were drifting off to dreamland he was thinking how he can get you to do that again next time. oh you were in for a very fun time.
so this one was initiated by you by pure accident. jungwon had your legs bent to your chest as if they were out of jelly while drilling into your poor pussy at a brutal pace (you love it) and you tried your best to hang on to him — which happened to be his neck. you were mindlessly grabbing around, looking for any stability, and your hands instantly wrapped around his neck. without meaning to you squeezed it and jungwon let out the most delicious moan you've heard in a long time. in your fucked out state you didn't even realise what he responded to and just gave him a puzzled look. he didn't even give you a verbal answer, too shocked at the new sensation he was feeling and just put his hand over yours in his neck — only then did you realise what you did. "you like that?" you moaned out, not even seductive on purpose, but he goes wild. the hand on your hip tightened, his own hips snapping into yours even quicker. what stared out as innocent grabbing on him for stability now turned into his hand also finding your throat to keep you from being bratty. in the end it just turned both of you on even more; your brattiness and his desire to keep you in line. it was one of those moments where jungwon realised just how much you both have grown together and gotten insanely fucking freaky :p
boyfriend!jungwon found out he has an oral fixation at the same time you did you have one too.
he sort of trained it into you, without meaning. in the most innocent ways he told you to lick the batter off his finger, wipes the dripped ice cream from your chin and told you to clean it off — it had all been truly innocent! he loved the feeling of your lips on him, it had a peaceful kind of possession attached to it and an incredibly deep connection of trust!! he found his fingers slip near your lips during cuddle sessions, loving how you teasingly bite or nip at the skin. long fingers loving squished your cheeks, slipping into the warmth of your mouth. for him, he loved having his mouth ON you!! it didn't even have to be a kiss, just simply resting his lips against your skin was enough. he was the one that nibbled and licked away at your skin, loving the way you squeaked at the tickling sensation :,) eventually it would also definitely find its way into your sex life. let it be you choking the life out of him as he had you sucking on his fingers — it drove both of you INSANE! he would be eating you out for hours, juices running down your legs and when you eventually have given him the nth orgasm of the day he dips his fingers into your heat, collecting the wetness and slipping it into his mouth. seeing your hazy eyes sparkle at his gesture he repeats the action but guides your juices on his fingers to your mouth. as you now clean your own slick off his fingers, twirling you tongue around the bud of his fingertips, his lips are on you again. kissing, licking, sucking and nipping away at the soft flesh of your body. it was his way of saying that you, your trust, your love. it calmed both of you such innocent way in the end. yes you both love to get down and dirty, any position at any time but you have established such a beautiful trust between each other :(
ʟɪɴꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: innocent to freaky won has a special place in my heart, pls meet me in my bed !
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @saeivra @shawnyle @kookiesnkim @itsnotawrongnumber @shaiimuraaa @yelihusband @chaebbys @feedrinplz @shawnyle @twerkispeak (comment or send me an ask if you want to be tagged or removed <33)
ʜᴏɴᴏʀᴀʀʏ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: @fawnwonie kisses u until the sun explodes, have some wonie my love :3
you were used to matchmaking, after all you were the reason your sister found her boyfriend but truthfully you didn't think much about love for yourself, not until you found yourself feeling more than you should for the local rich boy.
pairing: roommate!jungwon 𝓍 roommate!femreader word count: 22.2K // one-shot content: fluff // angst // eventual smut soulmate au, kinda love at first sight, heavily based on xo kitty (but mature), loverboy!jungwon, matchmaker!reader, you don't have to have watched to read this!. SLOW BURN, a whole lot of yearning, jealousy, denial of feelings, introvert reader, refs to aot, refs to beautiful boy, characters from xo kitty, feat bsf!jake & enhypen!
| LISTEN ALONG! | PLAYLIST | LIBRARY
⚠︎ : alcohol, nightmares, cheating? (pls js wait) , toxic themes, at some point during this you're going to dislike jungwon but PLEASE let him land. jw loses his mind slightly.. making out, dry humping, spit play (ish), kinda mean!dom!won, fingering, nipple play, hair pulling, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
— dreams are a form of communication for soulmates—a door into a life that could be. at the first meeting with their soulmate some become fortunate enough to develop dreams of them, it could be of anything, they could even be a background character, it'd be easy to mistake them for usual dreams but only few get blessed—cursed with these dreams.
being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.
their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.
however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.
this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.
you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.
truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.
you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.
before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.
the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.
thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.
the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.
as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.
[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]
a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.
"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.
jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.
he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.
your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.
with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.
"have we met?".
you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.
he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.
the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.
he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.
he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".
he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.
jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.
you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.
he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.
after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.
"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.
after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.
you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.
you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.
"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.
"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.
"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.
jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.
[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]
you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".
"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.
their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.
the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.
he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.
unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.
after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.
you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.
"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.
"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.
you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.
"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.
you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.
jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.
he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.
you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.
"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.
you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.
you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.
he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.
"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.
you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.
as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.
[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]
you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.
he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.
jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.
he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.
his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.
he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.
he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.
he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.
you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.
you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.
"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.
it's not the same.
"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".
you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.
"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.
"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.
"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.
"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.
after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.
without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.
you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".
"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.
"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.
"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.
"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".
"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.
"let's go home"
his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.
"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.
"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.
"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.
you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.
your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.
"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.
"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.
jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.
"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".
"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.
"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.
you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.
you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.
however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.
you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.
he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.
you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.
"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.
"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.
his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.
you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.
"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.
"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.
"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.
"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".
"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.
"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.
"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.
"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.
"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.
"aren't all love stories?" he countered.
"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.
you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.
jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.
you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.
your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.
"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.
you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.
jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.
that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.
he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.
you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.
so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.
he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.
"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.
"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.
you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.
"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.
you turned to him "perfect... thank you".
his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.
[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]
he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.
he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.
you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.
his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.
you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.
neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.
"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.
"so do you" he managed back.
he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.
you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.
you remembered the words.
and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.
you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.
you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.
you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.
you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.
without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.
the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.
the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.
you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.
he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?
after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.
"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.
he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"
you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".
"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.
"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.
"good or bad dream?" he asked.
"i don't know yet".
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.
jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.
after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.
jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.
he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.
which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.
it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.
so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.
it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.
the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.
even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.
so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.
that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.
his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.
he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.
he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.
he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.
no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.
so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.
"hey, where are you?"
[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]
you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.
the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.
the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.
you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.
nothing more.
the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.
your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.
after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.
you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.
jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.
he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.
"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.
"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.
you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".
yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.
"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?
you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.
"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.
he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.
"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.
the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.
"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.
you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.
his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.
"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.
"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.
it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.
[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]
now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.
jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.
he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.
for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.
"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.
you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.
with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.
jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.
the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.
"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.
you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.
god he thought he was past this.
friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.
you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.
friends. roommates.
you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.
and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.
jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.
you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.
you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.
"i'm right here".
he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.
"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.
"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.
"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.
without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.
he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.
"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.
"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.
he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".
you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."
surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.
you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.
[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]
"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.
"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.
you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.
jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.
you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.
your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?
you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.
his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.
in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.
your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.
you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.
and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.
neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.
you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.
he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.
you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.
but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.
[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]
your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.
you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.
"y/n, hey wake up"
you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.
jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.
he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.
"bad dream?"
"the worst" you sighed.
you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.
"you're okay" he whispered.
you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.
you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.
you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.
it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.
you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.
"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.
"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.
you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.
you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.
"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.
this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.
you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.
"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.
"like you've never seen me before"
he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.
"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".
you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.
"save that for your soulmate" you joked.
the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.
you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.
your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.
you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.
you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.
after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.
he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.
instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.
you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.
you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".
"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.
you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.
you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.
a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.
you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.
maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.
half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.
you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.
"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.
"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.
[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]
that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.
you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.
only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.
"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.
"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.
"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.
"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"
you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".
you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.
"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.
and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.
"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.
you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".
you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.
not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.
you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.
you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.
you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.
you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.
by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.
you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.
you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.
"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.
"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.
it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.
you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.
jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.
they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.
finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.
"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.
"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.
"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.
by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.
jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.
jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.
maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.
jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.
you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.
this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.
you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.
but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.
you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.
the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.
there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.
as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.
you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.
he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.
you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.
after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.
you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,
"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.
"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".
he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".
you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.
after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.
you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.
you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.
you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.
you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.
"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.
"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.
"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.
silence. dead ghostly silence.
for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.
[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]
the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.
"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.
"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.
you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.
you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.
you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.
"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.
you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.
"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.
"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.
"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.
you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.
you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.
"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.
you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.
"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.
"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.
throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.
you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.
especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.
you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.
"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.
everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.
the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.
"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.
"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.
"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.
"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.
jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.
"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.
"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.
"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.
[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]
"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.
"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.
"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.
you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.
"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.
"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.
"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.
the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.
"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.
"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.
"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.
"is it?"
you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.
jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.
"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.
he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.
"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".
as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.
"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.
"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.
you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.
"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.
you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.
"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".
"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.
"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.
"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.
it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.
when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.
which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.
you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.
you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.
"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.
"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.
"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.
"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.
"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.
"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.
instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.
"are you not leaving?"
"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.
you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..
"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.
"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.
[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]
he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.
but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.
which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.
"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.
if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.
"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.
"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.
the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.
"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.
he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.
only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.
"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.
"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.
"why can't we be?" he asked.
"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.
"so?" he walked closer to you.
"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.
"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.
"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.
"yes, she does".
"does she know everything?" you emphasized.
any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.
"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.
you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.
"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.
even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.
but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.
"fine, we'll see"
because space is easier when only you're aware of it.
he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.
she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.
"hey can we talk?"
you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"
you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.
"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.
"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.
"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.
"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.
but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.
"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.
"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.
you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.
not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.
sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.
[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]
and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.
you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.
"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.
something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.
yeah.. this was not going to work.
you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.
the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.
you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.
you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.
"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.
"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.
"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.
"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.
"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.
you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.
you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.
his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.
and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.
you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.
you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.
"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.
"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.
"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.
he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.
he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.
"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.
his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.
"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.
you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.
"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.
"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.
he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.
your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.
months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.
he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.
"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.
his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.
"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.
you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.
one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap
"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.
he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.
you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.
his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.
[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]
for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.
you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.
"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.
"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.
"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.
"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.
you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.
you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.
because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.
so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.
"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.
"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.
"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.
you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.
yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.
jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.
neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.
"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.
"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.
"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.
you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.
you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.
you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.
as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.
but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.
you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.
your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.
you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.
[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]
with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.
jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.
for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.
his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.
"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.
"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.
"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.
"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.
you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.
"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.
"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.
"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.
"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.
"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.
"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.
"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".
"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.
he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.
"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.
you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.
"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.
his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.
[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]
"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.
your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.
"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.
"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.
"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.
"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.
"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.
"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.
"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.
as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.
but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.
that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.
once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.
"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.
you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.
one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.
his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.
you found me.
your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.
"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.
you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.
"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.
you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.
"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.
he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.
"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.
he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.
"you found me"
he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.
"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.
you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.
"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.
[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]
after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.
you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.
"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.
he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.
"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.
"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..
"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.
you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".
he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.
"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.
you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.
"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.
"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.
"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.
your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.
"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.
your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.
he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.
his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.
"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.
"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.
"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.
you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.
he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.
he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.
he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.
you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.
"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.
"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.
your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.
you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.
"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"
your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.
"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.
"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.
"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.
"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.
as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.
you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.
you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.
you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.
your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.
as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.
he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.
now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.
what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.
and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.
you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.
his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.
"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.
his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.
"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.
"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.
"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.
"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.
"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.
"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.
"i deserved that.."
.⭑ˎˊ˗
time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.
you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.
your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..
yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.
nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.
he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.
one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.
the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.
you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.
after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.
come to the roof
slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.
"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.
"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.
"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.
"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.
he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.
"how did you-" you gasped.
"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.
"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.
"everything?"
"everything."
had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.
warnings: mdni! sexual content, toxic jungwon, sexual tension, jealousy, risky sex, rough sex, dubcon, coercion, dirty talk, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (do not do it), fingering, multiple orgasms, strong language, creampie, light choking, a bit of yearning, reader can't do casual, emotional manipulation
wc: 27k
note: i want to write shorter fics but i'm such a yapper bruh. hope you enjoy reading this ! i´ll start writing part two of top two next hehe < 3
taglist (you can comment!): @kristynaaah @hooniella @gentlestpour @heelvcr @heesvnqie @kazehee
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the sound of his laughter was always just a little too quiet to hear from across the floor, but you always knew exactly when it happened. you could tell by the way the girls in marketing would suddenly lean over their desk dividers, or how the receptionist would find a reason to walk all the way to the printer on your side of the building just to catch his eye as he passed.
yang jungwon had a way of distributing himself so thinly that everyone felt like they had a piece of him, yet nobody actually held anything at all.
it was a strange kind of currency he traded in. he didn’t have the loud, exhausting arrogance of the men you usually avoided. he didn't smirk, he didn't linger a second too long in a way that would make anyone uncomfortable. he was just... soft, incredibly attentive. he remembered how people took their tea, he noticed when someone looked a little tired, and he always had the right words to smooth over a mistake before the department head could even find out about it.
you had spent eight months watching the cycle repeat itself. a new girl would start in accounting or design, she would get overwhelmed by the workload, and jungwon would appear out of nowhere with a reassuring smile and a cup of coffee. and a few weeks later, she would be looking at him with that same dazed, mesmerized expression you saw on everyone else. he got his shifts covered, his spreadsheets double-checked, and an absolute shield of loyalty from the entire floor, all because he looked at people like they were the only thing that mattered in a room full of fluorescent lights.
you hated how clearly you saw the pattern. it made you feel detached, like a ghost lingering on the edges of a game everyone else was happily playing. loneliness did that to you — it made you hyper fixate on the details of other people’s lives because your own felt so hollow. and maybe, just maybe, it was also about the fact that you were the only person on this floor who he hadn't tried to use that gentle charm on yet. it felt spiteful, almost, like he knew you were watching and had decided you weren't worth the effort of the routine.
you bit the inside of your cheek, forcing your eyes back to your spreadsheet. do not look. do not care.
"you're going to get a headache if you keep staring at that screen without blinking, y/n." your pulse gave a stupid flutter before you could stop it. he was right there, his shadow leaning gently over the divider of your cubicle. he looked so terribly neat, the sleeves of his grey button down rolled up just to his forearms, his dark hair falling perfectly across his forehead. he didn’t look like someone who had just spent the last twenty minutes quietly convincing the senior supervisor to give him an extra week on his report. he just looked like a concerned coworker.
"i'm almost done." you whispered, your fingers staying frozen over the keyboard. you didn't want to look up. looking up meant acknowledging the way he was tilting his head, the way he was offering you that quiet, private space he seemed to create wherever he stood.
"you said that an hour ago when i walked past." he murmured, his voice slipping into that gentle register that always felt like a secret meant only for you. he set a small paper bag from the bakery downstairs on the edge of your desk, careful not to disturb your papers. "you skipped the team lunch. i brought you one of those lemon tarts you mentioned liking last month."
your heart ached a little, a sharp spike of anxiety hitting your chest. you hadn't even realized he had been listening when you said that to a completely different coworker in the breakroom weeks ago. that was his trick. he collected information like weights, saving them until he could wrap them up in sweet gestures, leaving you with no way to push him away without looking like the bad guy.
"jungwon, you shouldn't have." you said, trying to force your voice to sound flat, or at least indifferent. you finally met his eyes, searching for a slip, a hint of the calculation you knew was behind them. but there was nothing. just those wide eyes looking at you with a steady warmth that made you feel completely exposed.
"i wanted to." he said simply, a tiny crinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. "you look tired, y/n. let me do something nice for you for once. okay?" the way he said for once, as if he had been waiting for the opportunity to care about you, made a bitter knot form in your throat. he was opening the door to the routine, and the worst part was how badly a small, pathetic part of you wanted to step inside.
you looked down at the brown paper bag, the grease from the pastry already leaving a translucent circle on the paper. it felt heavy, like an anchor pulling you straight into the deep end of his world. if you reached for your purse right now, if you pulled out a crisp bill and insisted on paying him back, you would look incredibly cold. you would be the girl who couldn't just accept a simple favor from a coworker who was only trying to be thoughtful.
but you needed a barrier. you needed to prove to yourself that you weren't like that girl from accounting, or the receptionists, or any of the other people who let his probably fake kindness soften their edges until there was nothing left to protect themselves with.
"how much was it?" you asked, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk a little tighter as you kept your voice low, trying to maintain the flat, corporate boundary between you. "i can venmo you. i also think i have some cash in my bag."
jungwon didn't move. he didn't blink, either. he just kept staring down at you, his thumb slowly brushing against the seam of his trouser pocket. for a second, just a tiny fraction of a second, the soft crinkle around his eyes vanished, replaced by an expression that was entirely unreadable. it was the closest you had ever seen his mask come to slipping, and it made your stomach do a small anxious flip.
but then, as quickly as it had gone, the sweetness returned. it bloomed across his face like it belonged there, gentle and effortless. "don't do that, y/n.” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, sounding almost disappointed. not angry, just gently hurt, like a friend whose genuine intentions had been misunderstood. he reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch above the paper bag, not quite touching it, but close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his laundry detergent mixed with the sweet scent of the lemon. "it's just a tart. you don't owe me anything for it."
you hated how good he was at this. he made your self-preservation look like paranoia. "i just don't like feeling like i owe people things." you whispered, finally looking away from his eyes because the intensity of his gaze was starting to make your chest feel tight. you focused on his collar instead, tracing the neat line of his grey button down. "especially at work."
"you don't owe me." he repeated softly. he leaned a little closer over the divider, his shadow completely enveloping your desk space now, cutting off the rest of the bustling floor. "i promise. consider it an apology for the project timeline being so messy this week. i know it's been stressful for you."
he hadn't even been the one who messed up the timeline, it had been the senior supervisor's fault. yet there he was, taking the blame, wrapping it up in a pastry, and handing it to you like a peace offering. it was perfect. it was completely unassailable.
before you could think of another way to push him back, another way to say no without sounding entirely irrational, he was already straightening up. he patted the top of the cubicle divider twice, the thud of his palms against the fabric signaling the end of your private pocket of time.
"eat it before the sugar melts." he said, giving you one last lingering smile that felt entirely too warm for a tuesday afternoon in a fluorescent lit office. "i'll see you in the meeting tomorrow, y/n."
you didn't answer. you just watched his back as he turned around and walked away, his stride easy and completely relaxed. and then, you watched the trap reset.
barely three steps away from your desk, he ran into the assistant manager. within two seconds, jungwon’s posture shifted, his head tilting in that familiar, attentive way as he listened to the older man complain about a client. he smiled, offered a reassuring nod, and effortlessly slid back into being the floor's favorite person. it was like his conversation with you hadn't even happened. it was just another stop on his daily rounds.
you sank back into your chair, feeling smaller than you had five minutes ago. the paper bag sat on the edge of your desk, a tiny, sweet monument to your own weakness. you hadn't won. you hadn't even fought back.
when you finally decided to pack your bag, the fourteenth floor was entirely dead. the quiet was suffocating, broken only by the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. you had stayed late on purpose, hiding behind the excuse of heavy workload just to avoid having to walk out the double doors at the same time as everyone else. you needed the air to clear.
you walked down the narrow hallway toward the back supply room to drop off a final stack of hard copy client files before heading to the elevators. the lights in the back corridor were completely out, the darkness only cut by the faint city lights bleeding through the floor to ceiling glass windows at the end of the hall.
as you neared the wooden door of the archive room, you realized it wasn’t fully latched. a thin sliver of light was slicing across the dark carpet. and then, you heard a sound that made your entire body freeze in place.
it wasn't a murmur about spreadsheets or a polite laugh. it was a breathy gasp, followed by the unmistakable friction of fabric rubbing against a hard desk surface.
"jungwon, please-"
it was sarah from design. her voice was completely unrecognizable, stripped of her usual corporate composure, thick with a desperate kind of heat.
"shhh." a voice quieted her. low, raspy and completely dripping with that gentle cadence. "someone might still be on the floor. stay quiet for me, yeah?"
your heart gave a sickening lurch against your ribs, your fingers locking onto the edge of the file folders so hard the cardboard bent. you shouldn't have looked. every piece of self-preservation you had left was screaming at you to turn around, to run to the elevators and pretend you hadn't heard a thing. but you were paralyzed. your eyes moved to the small gap in the doorframe, your breath catching in your throat. through the crack, the scene was explicit.
sarah was pushed back onto the edge of the wooden archive table, her knee length pencil skirt hitched all the way up past her thighs, her fingers tangled frantically in the dark hair of the boy pressing between her legs. jungwon’s shirt was completely unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, exposing the sharp lines of his chest and back as he moved against her. he wasn't being rough. even like this, hidden in a dark room against company policy, his movements carried that same terrifyingly smooth rhythm. his head was buried in the crook of her neck, his lips leaving wet tracks along her collarbone, his hands gripping her hips to anchor her as he drove into her with deliberation. every roll of his hips elicited a muffled, shaking groan from the girl beneath him, her eyes completely blown out, utterly ruined by him.
"you're so good." jungwon whispered against her skin, his voice hitching slightly as his pace quickened, his thumbs digging into her skin. it was said with that same comforting warmth he used when he was handing someone a pastry or fixing a computer screen. "so sweet for me, sarah."
seeing him use that exact same tone — the soft sweetness he used to navigate the bullpen — while his body was violently taking someone against an office desk made a cold wave of humiliation wash over you.
he really was doing it. all of it. he wasn't just collecting favors, he was consuming them. and less than four hours ago, he had leaned over your cubicle divider, looked into your eyes with that exact same soft warmth, and told you he wanted to do something nice for you for once.
you backed away from the door. you had thought you were being smart by observing him, thought you were immune because you saw the matrix of his charm. but the truth was, you were just another potential name on the rotation of favors he hadn't gotten around to breaking yet.
inside the room, the sudden rustle of your folders against your coat cut through the quiet. the rhythmic sound of his movements stopped instantly. through the gap, you saw jungwon’s head lift, his dark eyes instantly cutting through the dim light straight toward the door frame, his chest heaving as he stared directly at the shadow you were casting on the floor.
you didn't wait for him to pull away. you turned and ran toward the elevators, your chest heavy with an indescribable, uncomfortable feeling as the doors finally closed.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the next morning, the fourteenth floor swallowed you whole, completely unchanged. the office was just its usual, sterile self. you sat at your desk, eyes fixed on your monitors, trying to drown out the intrusive images from the night before. because the worst part — the thing you refused to admit to yourself as you stared at your spreadsheets — was how it had actually looked. the sharp lines of his bare back, the tight grip of his hands on sarah's hips, the low tone of his voice... it had been explicit. it had been dangerous. and god help you, it had been the most terrifyingly attractive thing you had ever seen.
you bit the inside of your cheek until it tasted like iron. do not think about it. do not fall for it. you weren't going to be another project he managed. you weren't going to let a few seconds of office floor smut shake the armor you had spent months building. besides, you were certain he would never try to win your favor like that anyway — he clearly wasn't interested. you had never had those kinds of interactions with him, which only made the fact that you were fixating so hard on the memory feel even creepier. you were acting like a voyeur, replaying a performance that wasn't meant for you, all because the raw control he had displayed had been so hot, if you were honest. you needed to go back to your normal self and not think about him ever again.
the conference room smelled of stale catering coffee and the chemical tang of dry erase markers. everyone was crammed inside, reducing themselves to a neat row of titles and deliverables. sarah sat three chairs down from you, her posture slightly rigid, her eyes tracking jungwon's every move with a quiet devotion. but she wasn't special. you watched how he shifted his attention effortlessly — offering a quick, easy laugh to one of the guys from logistics, leaning in to whisper a reassuring note to the senior supervisor, making sure that everyone felt chosen. he didn't look like a man who had spent the previous evening ruining a coworker against an archive table. he looked immaculate. when the supervisor praised the recent turnaround on the quarterly reports, jungwon offered a modest smile, deferring the credit entirely to the rest of the team. he was a calculated machine, running on the fuel of everyone's compliance, using his charm interchangeably to keep the floor running exactly how he wanted it to.
you kept your gaze firmly fixed on your ipad, drawing a series of neat boxes in the margins. you were an observer. you just had to get through the remaining forty minutes of this meeting, go back to your cubicle, and bury yourself in data.
"y/n?" the supervisor's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
you blinked, pulling your shoulders back into a sharp corporate posture. "yes?"
"jungwon mentioned that the client files from the fourteenth floor archives were still showing a few discrepancies. did you manage to drop off the hard copies last night?"
your breath caught in your throat. your fingers tightened around your pen so hard the plastic clicked. reluctantly, your eyes shifted across the table.
jungwon was looking right at you. he didn't have his usual soft, accommodating expression. he was leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes locked onto yours with unblinking intensity. there was no warmth in them now. no sweet, harmless coworker charm.
it was a dare.
"i dropped them off." you said, your voice a fraction thinner than you wanted it to be. you forced yourself to maintain eye contact, refusing to let him see the frantic flutter of your pulse. "right before i left."
"perfect." jungwon said softly. he didn't break his gaze. his fingers stopped typing entirely, resting flat against the aluminum casing of his laptop. "i went back in there this morning to organize them. i noticed a few of the folders were a bit bent at the edges. like someone had been in a rush."
a suffocating wave of heat rushed up your neck. he knew. he knew exactly who had been standing outside that door.
"the archive room is quite dark at night." you countered, your voice dropping into a flat register that stood out sharply against the casual tone of the room. "it's easy to lose your footing when you're looking for something in the dark."
for a fraction of a second, the corner of jungwon’s mouth twitched upward. it wasn't his public smile. it was dark and entirely private, like a glimpse of the calculating mind behind the mask. he liked this. he seemed to have realized that while the rest of the floor was blind to his games, you were watching every single move. and instead of pulling back, instead of playing it safe, he looked fully reenergized by it.
"you're right, y/n." he murmured, his voice dropping into that raspy cadence that made your skin prickle. "it is very dark back there. you really have to be careful what you stumble into." he laughed softly, slipping effortlessly back into his usual public persona. a few of your coworkers laughed along too, entirely unaware of the double meaning bleeding through his words. you felt like you were going insane, like one of those tragic characters in horror movies who are the only ones capable of seeing the ghosts.
the meeting adjourned, and the room dissolved into the usual chaos of scraping chairs and murmured small talk. you gathered your notebook and pen, eager to escape the stifling air, but a tall shadow stepped directly into your path before you could reach the door.
jungwon stood close, effectively blocking your exit. the expensive scent of his cologne hit you instantly, dragging your mind back to the image of his bare back and the frantic grip of his hands in the dark. your chest heaved, a sharp spike of anger and unwanted arousal hitting you all at once.
"you didn't eat the tart, right?" he said. his voice was quiet, obscured by the noise of the departing coworkers around you.
"i wasn't hungry." you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the top button of his shirt, refusing to look into his eyes. you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. he was just being fake nice, putting on the same calculated performance he used on everyone else to get his way. you were just a glitch in his perfect record of floor compliance, a loose thread he wanted to tuck back into his neat little tapestry because it bothered his meticulous nature that your edges wouldn't soften for him.
he leaned down slightly, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "a shame. i spent a lot of time thinking about what you liked before i bought it."
you bit the inside of your cheek, gripping your notebook like a shield. you didn't call him out, you didn't mention what you saw. you just forced a professional, detached distance between your bodies, holding onto the corporate wall with everything you had left.
"i have work to do, jungwon. i’ll excuse myself now, see you." you stepped sideways, brushing past his shoulder without looking back. but as you walked down the hallway, you could feel his eyes burning into your back, a silent promise that he was only just getting started.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
by thursday afternoon, the tension had settled into the very carpet of your floor, heavy enough to make your lungs ache. you tried to perfect your routine. eyes on the monitor, fingers on the keys, headphones firmly over your ears even when there was nothing playing. you were determined to be the ghost he couldn't touch.
but jungwon was a master of using the space around you against you. he spent twenty minutes at the shared printer island just three feet away from your cubicle opening. he wasn't alone. he was with elle from legal, helping her sort through a massive stack of compliance contracts. you could hear the smooth rumble of his voice filtering through your headset. you didn't look. you swore to yourself you wouldn't look. but then you heard that quiet, private laugh — the one that always made people lean over their desks. against your own will, your eyes flicked up.
jungwon was leaning over the printer, his grey button-down stretched tight across his shoulders. his hand was resting on the small of elle’s back, his thumb making slow, casual circles against the fabric of her blazer. it was a gesture so effortlessly intimate, so completely unnecessary for printing contracts, that a bitter spike of heat flared in your chest. elle was looking up at him with that exact ruined expression you had seen on sarah, on the receptionists, on everyone.
and then, without missing a beat in his conversation with her, jungwon's dark eyes shifted. he looked directly over elle’s shoulder, straight into your cubicle, locking his gaze onto yours. his thumb didn't stop moving against her back. his face didn't change its pleasant expression. but his eyes were full of a silent, mocking challenge.
look how easy it is, you imagined him saying. look at what everyone else gives me without a fight.
he was doing it on purpose. he knew you were hyper-fixated on his patterns, he knew you had seen what happened in the archive room, and instead of hiding it, he was putting his transactional nature on full display right in front of your face. he wanted you to feel the weight of your own isolation. he wanted the jealousy and the confusion to twist inside you until you finally snapped and gave him the compliance he wanted. you ripped your eyes away, your heart hammering against your ribs. you hated him. you hated how he could make you feel so exposed without even speaking to you. and worst of all, you hated the traitorous part of your brain that had watched his hand on elle's back and wondered, just for a terrifying second, what it would feel like if those fingers were digging into your own skin instead.
you swallowed hard, the taste of iron lingering on your tongue. he doesn't want you, you reminded yourself, a cruel, internal mantra. he's just fake nice. he just wants to win the game.
the shadow fell over your desk before you could even register the sound of his footsteps. "the legal files are sorted." jungwon murmured. he wasn't leaning over the divider this time, he was standing right at the entrance of your cubicle, effectively blocking the view of the rest of the floor. he set a single blue folder on the corner of your desk, his fingers lingering on the plastic tab. "i put the updated compliance guidelines on top. i thought you might need them for your afternoon report."
you didn't look at his face. you focused strictly on his hands, on the neat skin of his wrists. "thanks."
"you seem quiet today, y/n." he said softly, his voice dropping into that low register meant only for the two of you. he leaned in just a fraction, his shadow completely swallowing your desk space. "even more than usual. did you get another headache?"
the artificial sweetness in his tone felt like a physical weight pressing against your chest. he was mocking your boundaries, testing the exact strength of the walls you were sweating to keep up.
"i'm fine, jungwon." you whispered, your voice tight, keeping the corporate distance as rigid as humanly possible. "just busy."
"mmh." a small, completely unreadable sound left his throat. he reached out, his index finger lightly tracing a slow line along the edge of your desk calendar, stopping just a millimeter away from where your hand was resting. the proximity made the skin on your arms prickle. "well... don't work too hard. it would be a shame if you got tired out before the week is even over."
he gave the desk a final tap of his knuckles and walked away, leaving you drowning in the suffocating air of his departure.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
on friday evening, the office had emptied out with an incredible speed, everyone fleeing for the weekend the second the clock hit five. you had stayed behind on purpose again. it was safer this way. the quiet felt like a shield, a brief window where you didn't have to watch him hand out his attention like loose change to every person who crossed his path.
the only light left on was the overhead glow of your own cubicle row. you were just finishing up the last data entry for the week, the rhythmic click of your keyboard the only sound in the entire space. you let out a long breath, your shoulders finally dropping from the defensive posture you had kept up for days.
then, the printer island three feet away whirred to life. the sudden, mechanical groan made your heart drop straight into your stomach. a single sheet of paper began to slide into the tray, the sound incredibly loud in the dead quiet of the office.
"i thought i saw a light still on down here." his voice came from the darkness just outside your cubicle opening. it was completely devoid of the light cadence he used during the day. jungwon stepped into the glow of your monitor. he had already taken off his tie, the top two buttons of his grey shirt undone to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone. his jacket was slung carelessly over one shoulder, held by a single finger. he looked messy in a way that felt intentional.
you froze, your fingers hovering over the keys. do not look at his neck. do not think about the archive room. "i'm just finishing up." you said, your voice tight, forcing that rigid wall between you even though the floor was completely dead. "i'm leaving in five minutes."
"there's no rush." he murmured, stepping fully into your cubicle space. but he didn't stop at the edge this time. he walked right up to the side of your chair, dropping his jacket onto the empty desk divider next to you. "the building doesn't lock down until midnight, anyway."
you kept your eyes fixed on the screen, your heart hammering a stupid rhythm against your ribs. "i want to get home, though."
jungwon didn't answer. instead, he reached past your shoulder, his bare forearm brushing lightly against your sleeve as he picked up the single sheet of paper that had printed out. the brief friction of his skin against yours felt like an electric shock.
he leaned back against the edge of your desk, trapping you in your seat, his dark eyes looking down at the paper in his hands. "you made a mistake on the logistics section." he said softly.
"what?" your head snapped up before you could stop yourself, defense mechanism kicking in. "no, i didn't. i checked the numbers twice."
"look right here." he leaned down, his face suddenly too close to yours. you could see the tiny flecks of dark brown in his eyes and the immaculate line of his jaw. he pointed his long finger at a row of data on your monitor, his hand hovering right next to your mouse. "you put the shipping code under the wrong department head."
you looked at the screen, your mind blank, completely unable to process the numbers because his chest was practically brushing against your shoulder. "it's... it's a minor formatting issue. i can fix it on monday."
"why wait until monday?" jungwon whispered. his voice dropped into that private register that made your skin prickle. he didn't look at the screen anymore. he was looking directly at your mouth, his gaze heavy. "i'm right here. let me help you with it."
he placed his hand directly over yours on the mouse. his palm was warm, his large fingers covering your smaller ones. your pulse gave a sickening lurch. he wasn't being gentle. he wasn't doing that soft, attentive routine he did all the time. his grip was firm, holding your hand in place on the plastic casing, forcing you to feel the solid weight of him.
"jungwon." you breathed, a panicky sound escaping your throat. you tried to pull your hand back, but his fingers tightened just enough to keep you pinned.
"shhh." he murmured, using the exact same low tone he had used on sarah in the dark. "you're always trying to push me away, y/n. why is that? i'm just trying to be a good coworker."
the blatant lie made a suffocating knot form in your throat. he was mocking you. he knew you knew exactly what he was, and he was using his body to deliberately test how much you could take before you completely crumbled.
"let go of my hand." you whispered, your voice shaking, although you tried with everything you had to keep it cold.
jungwon didn't move. he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his eyes darkening into something ravenous as he watched the frantic pulse fluttering in your neck. "and if i don't?" he asked softly, a dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "what are you going to do, y/n? call the supervisor? tell them i'm being too nice to you?"
you couldn't breathe. the sheer weight of him was too much, trapping you between the hard edge of your desk and the solid heat of his chest. your fingers were frozen beneath his palm, your skin tingling everywhere it connected with his.
"i'll tell them exactly what you are." you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. your voice was way too thinned out by the frantic beating of your heart, but you kept your eyes fixed on his chin, refusing to look up into the trap of his gaze. "i'll tell them you're a fraud, jungwon."
for a long second, the quiet of the fourteenth floor felt absolute. the earlier hum of the ventilation system seemed to fade into nothing. then, jungwon let out a low laugh. it wasn't his public laugh — the pleasant one that made people lean over their desk dividers. this one was raspy, almost dangerous. his hand didn't leave yours. instead, his fingers shifted, sliding down the sides of your hand to lock his fingers securely through yours, pinning your palm flat against the desk surface now.
"a fraud." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating straight through the small space between your faces. he leaned down further, his lips so close to the shell of your ear that you could feel the slight brush of his hair against your temple. "and who do you think is going to believe you, y/n? the supervisors? the girls in marketing? they love me. i make their lives so easy."
he was right. it was the most humiliating part of the whole thing. if you went to anyone, you would look like the unhinged one. you would be the bitter, detached girl who couldn't handle a popular coworker offering to help her with a formatting error.
"they think you're nice." you breathed, your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek until it throbbed. "but you're just... you just use everyone."
you expected him to pull back, expected him to get angry or play dumb. but as you finally forced your eyes up to meet his, your breath caught. jungwon was staring down at you with a look that made your entire stomach dissolve into chaos. his face wasn't sweet at all anymore. his jaw was set, his dark eyes wide and completely unblinking, tracking the frantic movement of your lips. his chest was heaving slightly, the top buttons of his shirt pulling apart just enough for your eyes to instinctively look down for a second.
he didn't look insulted, he looked fascinated. "you really do see right through it, don't you?" he whispered, his thumb slowly tracing a firm line across the back of your knuckles. his grip on your hand tightened, a sudden show of strength that made your pulse give a silly flutter. "everyone on this floor is so boring, to be honest. they just take whatever i give them. but you... you sit here and watch me, and you hate me so much." he leaned in until his nose almost brushed against yours, his gaze dropping to your mouth again with a hunger that felt too explicit for a fluorescent lit cubicle at work. "you think i'm just being fake nice to be convenient. but the truth is, y/n... i've been waiting for you to look at me like this for months."
he shifted his weight, his thigh pressing firmly against the side of your knee, anchoring you into the chair. the mask was entirely gone, shattered on the desk between you, and you were left staring at the calculating control underneath. and to be honest with yourself, it was the most terrifyingly attractive thing you had ever felt.
"now…" jungwon whispered, his thumb digging slightly into your wrist, right over the frantic jumping of your pulse. "are you going to fix this spreadsheet for me, or are we going to do something else?"
you refused to let him win. you refused to soften a single fraction. "i'm fixing the spreadsheet." you whispered, your voice tight, but you forced your eyes back to the monitor, desperately trying to focus on the green lines of the cells. you tried to pull your fingers out from beneath his palm, but jungwon's grip remained firm, his fingers locked securely through yours, pinning your hand against the mouse. a breathy hum left his throat, the vibration of it traveling straight from his chest into your shoulder where his body was pressed against yours.
"then do it." he murmured. "go ahead, y/n. fix it."
your left hand trembled as you reached for the keyboard, your mind racing to remember the correct codes through the suffocating fog of his proximity. he was making it entirely impossible on purpose. he leaned down further, his head tilting until his lips were just a fraction of an inch away from the sensitive skin below your ear, his warm breath fanning across your neck with every shallow exhale.
"you're entering the wrong code." he whispered against your skin, his thumb shifting to press a slow, deliberate circle right over the pulse in your wrist. "look at the screen. you're messing up the formatting again because you're too busy trying to pretend i'm not here."
"i'm not pretending anything." you breathed, your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek until you felt a sharp sting. you deleted the typo, your fingers hitting the keys with a defensive force. you weren't going to look at his collarbone. you weren't going to turn your head and let his mouth catch yours. you kept your gaze locked onto the data, your entire body stiff as iron against the solid warmth of his chest.
you clicked the save icon, the sharp sound of the mouse loud in the dead quiet of the fourteenth floor. "it's done. the data is clean. now let go of my hand, jungwon."
jungwon didn't move. he stayed exactly where he was for an agonizing second, his eyes wide as he tracked the line of your jaw. you hadn't leaned into him. you hadn't given him that ruined look he was so used to consuming from the rest of the floor.
and as you finally forced your head around to glare at him, refusing to back down, you saw the exact moment his expression shifted. the mocking smile completely vanished from his lips. his jaw tightened, his eyes clouding over with a ravenous frustration that made your stomach drop. he looked fully consumed by the fact that you were still fighting him, his chest heaving slightly as his grip on your laced fingers tightened until it hurt. you were willing to choke on your own pride before you ever gave him the compliance he wanted.
"you really aren't going to give in, are you?" he whispered, his raspy voice shaking just enough to let the dark intensity underneath slip through. he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze dropping to your parted lips with an explicit hunger that made your knees go weak in the chair. "you're going to sit here and look at me like you want to kill me, even when you're completely burning up underneath my hands."
"i told you, jungwon." you whispered back, your fingers tightening around his despite yourself, your armor cracking at the seams even as you held the wall up between you.
jungwon let out another ragged breath, his thumb digging hard into your wrist as a possessive heat bloomed across his beautiful face. "we have time anyway, y/n."
he slowly released his grip, his fingers sliding away from yours with agonizing slowness, leaving your skin tingling and too cold in the sudden absence of his warmth. he picked up his jacket from the divider, throwing it back over his shoulder with that effortless fluidness. he didn't say another word. he just gave you one last look — a silent promise wrapped in a calculated package — before turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkness of the elevator lobby. you sat there for a long time, the silence of the empty office pressing heavy against your ears.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the weekend had been a blur of suffocating self-loathing. you had spent forty eight hours pacing your apartment, scrubbing at the wrist where his thumb had dug into your pulse, trying to wash away the phantom weight of his hand. you felt physically sickened by your own body's betrayal. that silly flutter your heart had given when he leaned in — it felt like a stain. you had always prided yourself on being the independent one, the girl who didn't get sucked into office politics or fleeting infatuations. you were supposed to be safe because you were invisible. but jungwon had stripped that safety away in a matter of minutes, leaving you exposed and terrified of your own hidden vulnerabilities.
you knew exactly what he was doing. you kept repeating it like a prayer to keep yourself sane: he doesn't want you. he was just a predator who hated that one specific prey wouldn't run into his trap. he was a perfectionist, and your coldness was an ugly smudge on his immaculate record of floor wide adoration.
by monday morning, the internal friction had left you entirely exhausted, the dark circles under your eyes barely hidden by makeup. the bright lights of the office hit your eyes like a physical blow. it was already buzzing with the usual post weekend energy, typing and mindless small talk filling the air. you kept your head down, your shoulders hunched as you walked to your cubicle, feeling incredibly small.
and then, you saw him. he was standing by the central filing cabinets, completely surrounded. he was wearing a crisp dark navy shirt today, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his pale forearms. he was currently leaning over to look at a folder held by jake from accounting, his hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture that looked supportive and friendly. but you watched the way jungwon's eyes moved — sharp, analytical, tracking the supervisor who was walking past them. the second the supervisor glanced over, jungwon shifted his posture, offering a bright smile that made him look like the hardest working, most compliant employee on the entire payroll.
twenty minutes later, jungwon was at the reception desk. you watched, your heart hammering a painful rhythm against your ribs, as he leaned over the counter to speak to the new temp. his hand rested casually on the edge of her desk, his thumb making an absentminded circle against the wood — the exact same gesture he had used on your knuckles friday night. the temp was completely flushed, her eyes wide as she nodded along to whatever he was whispering. you watched how he helped her carry a heavy box of promotional materials, his body intentionally brushing against hers as they walked through the narrow aisle. it made your stomach turn over in a violent wave of disgust and profound anxiety. he was doing it right in front of you. he didn't even care about hiding his promiscuity or his transactional nature anymore. in fact, it felt like he was putting on a performance specifically for you. he was showing you how easily he could buy anyone on this floor, men and women alike, with a single smile or a well timed touch, using them up until they were empty and then moving on to the next.
you clutched your coffee mug so hard your knuckles turned white, a mixture of anger and panic rising in your throat. you felt like you were suffocating under the weight of your own awareness. you were the only one who saw the rot beneath the golden boy facade, and the sheer isolation of that knowledge was driving you insane. you were terrified that if you kept watching the casual ease with which he dismantled people's boundaries, the gravity of his control would eventually pull you under too.
"y/n." his voice came from directly behind your chair, low and entirely smooth. your entire body went rigid as iron and your breath trapped in your lungs. the sudden rush of adrenaline made your ears ring. jungwon stepped around the edge of your cubicle, holding a stack of laminated division charts. he didn't touch you, he didn't even lean over your desk. he stood just far away enough to keep up appearances for the rest of the floor, but his presence felt massive, completely blocking out the light.
he looked down at you, his eyes entirely hollow of the warmth he had just been flashing at the marketing team. his face was a mask of perfect, professional indifference, but his jaw was tight. "the department head requested the updated logistics flow by noon." he said softly, his public voice neat and polite. but then, he paused, his gaze slowly dropping to your hands, watching the tiny, uncontrollable tremor in your fingers as you tried to set your coffee mug down. the corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, with a quiet satisfaction.
he leaned in just an inch, his voice dropping into that private register that belonged only to the dark corners of the office. "did you have trouble sleeping over the weekend, y/n?"
the question was a psychological knife, twisting right into the center of your internal turmoil. he knew. he knew he had occupied your thoughts for forty eight hours. he was taunting you with the fact that even when he wasn't there, he was still successfully invading your space, still slowly breaking down your mental walls from the inside out.
you swallowed the bitter taste of panic, forcing your eyes up to meet his chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking into his eyes. you drew a sharp breath, pulling your corporate wall up with every ounce of strength you had left. "i'm fine, jungwon." you whispered, your voice thinned out but completely cold, completely detached. "the logistics flow will be in the system by eleven thirty. you can check it then."
jungwon stayed perfectly still for a second, his dark eyes burning into the side of your face, analyzing the rigid posture, the tight set of your mouth, the desperate pride you were clinging to. he didn't push, he didn't need to. he just tapped the laminated charts against the edge of your divider with a quiet click. "perfect." he murmured, his raspy tone thinning back into his polite public persona. "i'll be looking forward to seeing your work."
as he turned and walked away, immediately falling into an easy conversation with a passing manager, you let out a trembling breath, your hands shaking so badly you had to press them flat against the desk to make them stop. you were safe for now, but the suffocating realization settled deep into your chest — the game was only getting heavier, and the cost of keeping your walls up was starting to tear you apart.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
by the time the mandatory department dinner rolled around on thursday night, the tension inside your chest had turned into a living, breathing thing.
the restaurant was loud, suffocatingly warm, and thick with the scent of grilled pork and cheap soju. green bottles were already multiplying across the long tables. everyone was shedding their corporate skin with a sloppy speed, the supervisors shouting over the sizzle of the meat, your colleagues giggling too loudly as they mixed beer and liquor.
you sat near the end of the table, actively trying to dissolve into the background. you were drinking faster than usual. it was a stupid, dangerous mistake, but the alcohol was the only thing capable of dulling the exhausting edge of your hyper-vigilance. you just wanted to numb the looping thoughts of him, but alcohol also made your walls sluggish. and across the grill, through the rising smoke and the chaotic haze of the room, yang jungwon was putting on a masterclass.
he looked disgusting in his perfection. he had stayed sober enough to maintain his position as the table's golden savior — expertly flipping the meat for the senior manager, laughing at the supervisor's terrible jokes, pouring drinks with a practiced tilt of his wrist. he was the perfect employee, the perfect junior colleague, distributing his easy warmth so seamlessly that the entire top end of the table was practically vibrating under his influence.
but every time he leaned back to let a manager speak, his dark eyes would cut straight through the smoke, locking onto your face. his gaze was heavy, tracking the movement of your glass as you emptied it again and again. there was no warmth in his face when he looked at you. just that quiet, analytical hunger.
"y/n, you're being way too quiet tonight." jay from project management slid into the empty space on your left. "seriously, you're always so locked away in your cubicle." he laughed, leaning in to bump his shoulder against yours. it was a clumsy, drunken gesture, but it felt normal. "you need to hang out with us more. let me pour you another one."
"maybe i should." you giggled, the sound light and loose even to your own ears. the alcohol made you sloppy, made you want to lean into the easy comfort of someone who didn't have a hidden agenda. you picked up your small glass and held it out with both hands, giving him a bright, genuine smile. "you're right. i work too hard."
jay beamed, his eyes crinkling as he filled your glass. he let his hand linger against yours for a second too long as he set the bottle down, his arm casually settling over the back of your wooden bench, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric of your blouse. you didn't pull away. instead, you tilted your head up, laughing at a stupid joke he made about the logistics manager, completely letting your guard drop. it felt intoxicating to be normal. to prove to yourself — and to the person sitting across the grill — that you weren't trapped in his little bubble.
but across the table, the atmosphere had silently shifted. jungwon was suddenly drinking too tonight. he wasn't perfectly sober anymore. his tie was long gone, the top three buttons of his shirt undone, and there was a faint flush spreading across his neck and the sharp lines of his collarbone.
it happened so fast you almost missed it. jungwon had been in the middle of nodding politely to a story the senior supervisor was telling. when you looked at him again, his entire posture was dead rigid. his jaw set so hard the muscle in his cheek twitched violently. for a terrifying second, the golden boy mask shattered completely, leaving a look of such icy malice on his face that your breath trapped in your throat.
he didn't make a scene, he was too smart for that. instead, he stood up smoothly, a polite, apologetic smile instantly snapping back onto his features as he addressed the supervisor. "i'll go grab a few more bottles of the premium plum wine from the front." jungwon murmured, his public voice light and accommodating. "the department head mentioned he wanted to try it."
you watched him walk away, your heart violently hammering against your ribs. you thought you were safe. you thought the distance would give you room to breathe.
but less than three minutes later, the chaotic seating arrangement of the table shifted as a group of managers left to use the restroom. when a space cleared out directly opposite you and jay, a shadow fell over the wood.
jungwon sat down. he placed three new bottles on the table with a quiet click. he didn't look at you. he focused entirely on jay, his face twisted into an expression of intense camaraderie that felt entirely too sharp to be real.
"jay." jungwon said, his voice smooth but dropping into a lower cadence that somehow cut through the noise of the restaurant. "you're taking care of our quietest team member? that's really responsible of you."
"jungwon! man, you're the best." jay cheered, completely oblivious to the danger sitting three feet away from him. he pulled his arm off your chair to reach for his glass. "i'm just telling y/n she needs to loosen up!"
"is that so?" jungwon murmured. he picked up a fresh bottle of soju, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the green glass with an unyielding grip. he leaned forward, his dark eyes locked onto jay's face. "well, if you're going to keep her company, you have to keep up with her. let me pour you a proper drink."
what followed was a brutal, quiet execution. jungwon didn't let jay breathe. using his fake nice, attentive persona like a weapon, he continuously filled jay's glass the exact second it touched the table, egging him on with soft compliments and subtle challenges that jay's drunken pride couldn't refuse. jungwon was pouring double shots, mixing combinations, acting like the ultimate hype man while remaining entirely sober himself.
it was horrifyingly calculated. jungwon was weaponizing the floor compliance against jay, using his popularity to entirely dismantle the guy right in front of your face. and he was doing it with a terrifying ferocity.
within twenty minutes, jay's head dropped onto his folded arms on the table, his eyes rolling shut as he muttered an incoherent string of nonsense before completely passing out cold.
the noise of the restaurant seemed to swell around your ears, the shouting and laughter of the remaining coworkers forming a thick barrier of isolation around your corner of the table. jay was asleep on your left. the manager on your right was entirely engrossed in a loud argument about quarterly logistics.
you were left completely alone with him.
jungwon slowly set his empty glass down. the bright, helpful coworker expression vanished from his face, leaving his features ravenous. he leaned forward across the wooden table, his chest almost touching the edge, his eyes wide as they pinned you to your seat.
"he touches everyone, you know?" jungwon whispered, his voice dropping into that raspy, private register that made your skin prickle. "jay. he does it in the hallways too. he's very careless with his hands."
you clutched your small soju glass, your fingers shaking so badly the clear liquid sloshed over the rim. the alcohol in your system was making your head spin, making your internal turmoil twist into something desperate. "he was just... he was just being friendly. unlike you."
jungwon let out a low laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "friendly."
before you could register his movement, his leg shifted beneath the low table. his thigh pressed firmly against your knee, locking your legs together under the shadow of the thick tablecloth. the sudden heat of his body against yours sent a violent jolt of adrenaline straight down your spine. you tried to pull back, but he angled his leg, anchoring you into the wooden bench so tightly you couldn't move an inch without drawing the attention of the entire table.
"you let him touch your shoulder." jungwon murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his jaw setting as his voice became thick with a suffocating jealousy. he reached his hand under the table, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist, his thumb digging hard into the soft skin right over your jumping pulse. "you sat here and let a sloppy, useless drunk put his hands on you. but when i touch you, y/n... you look like you're about to lose your mind."
"let go." you breathed, a panicky whisper that was completely swallowed by the roar of the restaurant. your teeth bit into your lip, your eyes darting to the supervisor just three seats away, terrified of a scene, terrified of what would happen if anyone looked down. "jungwon, stop. someone will see."
"let them look." he whispered back, his grip on your wrist tightening until it was almost a bruise, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against your skin. his face was inches from yours now, his breath warm, smelling faintly of the plum wine. "they won't see anything. they only see what i want them to see. you know that better than anyone, y/n."
he leaned in just a fraction further, his eyes tracking the chaotic, terrified rise and fall of your chest. he was entirely consumed by his own control, irritated that someone else had crossed the boundary he had marked for himself.
"i told you on friday night, y/n." he murmured, his raspy voice vibrating straight through your bones as his leg pressed harder against your knee. "we have time."
the words hung in the space between your faces, heavy with the sweet, stinging scent of plum wine and the absolute certainty of his control. your mind was screaming at you to pull away, to make a scene, to slap his hand away from your wrist. but the alcohol had turned your blood to lead, making your body feel too heavy, too responsive to the solid pressure of his thigh against your knee. you were trapped between the suffocating heat of his gaze and the hidden reality of his hands beneath the table.
"hey, jungwon! y/n! what are you two whispering about over there?" the sudden voice of the senior manager cut through the noise of the restaurant like a blunt axe. the spell didn't just break, it evaporated. before your heart could even finish its next frantic thud, the shift in jungwon was instantaneous. his fingers slid off your wrist with a terrifyingly casual slowness, his leg smoothly retracting from yours under the cover of the tablecloth. by the time you managed to look up, blinking past the dizzying fog of the soju, jungwon was already leaning back in his seat. his face had instantly transformed back into the picture of polite, boyish innocence — the dark hunger wiped clean from his eyes as if it had never been there at all.
"just making sure y/n is doing okay, sir." jungwon said, his public voice smooth, light, and perfectly pitched to carry over the chatter. he offered the manager a dimpled smile. "i think the logistics data has her a bit worn out this week. i was just offering to take over her morning reports tomorrow so she can catch her breath."
"ah, look at our jungwon! always taking care of the team." the manager cheered, raising his glass in a sloppy toast. "a true asset to the department!"
you sat there, your hand still trembling against the cold wood where his fingers had just been pinned. the unadulterated fraudulence of it made you feel physically sick. he had just systematically dismantled jay, pinned you to your seat with a terrifying display of drunken jealousy, and threatened you into absolute silence. and within three seconds, he had the entire top end of the table practically singing his praises.
to your delight, the dinner dissolved into the chaotic logistics of departure shortly after. managers were pouring into taxis, people were laughing loudly on the sidewalk, and jay was being thrown into the back of a coworker's car, still completely dead to the world.
you stood on the pavement, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, making the alcohol hit your head in a dizzying wave. you felt completely hollowed out, your internal walls not just cracked, but entirely reduced to ash.
you're going to sit here and look at me like you want to kill me, even when you're completely burning up underneath my hands.
his words from the cubicle, mixed with the phantom weight of his hand on your knee tonight, looped through your mind in a toxic rhythm. the worst part — the absolute most humiliating, terrifying part of the entire night — was the realization that you had burned. when his hand had tightened on your wrist, when his thigh had locked yours into the bench, a hidden part of your chest had given a shameful lurch. you hated his fake nice routines, you hated how he ruined people for his own convenience, but the raw, unfiltered gravity of his attention when the mask came off was becoming completely addictive.
you were terrified of him. but you were starting to be much more terrified of yourself.
"your taxi is here, y/n." his voice came from the shadow right beside you. jungwon had his hands slid casually into his slacks pockets, his jacket slung over his shoulder. he stepped forward, opening the door of the yellow cab for you with the textbook gallantry of a good coworker. but as you moved past him, your shoulder brushing against his chest, he didn't back up. he stayed entirely too close, his eyes locking onto yours in the dim light of the street.
"get some rest tonight." he murmured, his raspy voice dropping low enough that the driver couldn't hear. his thumb slowly traced a firm line across the leather of the car door, right next to your hip. "i'll see you in the office early tomorrow. don't be late."
you slid into the backseat without a word, your fingers curling tightly into your palms as the door clicked shut between you. as the taxi pulled away into the traffic, you looked back through the rear window. jungwon was still standing on the curb, completely alone, watching your car disappear with a look of absolute, calculating patience.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the hangover wasn't just a physical ache, it was a psychological weight that made the 6:45 am sunlight feel like an interrogation. you had deliberately arrived a full hour before the rest of the department, desperate to find a moment of absolute isolation to gather the shattered pieces of your composure. the office floor was an eerie ghost town of dark computer screens and silent corridors. the only sound was the mechanical hum of the industrial printer in the copy room at the far end of the hall. you stood in front of it, watching the updated logistics charts slide smoothly into the tray, one by one.
eleven thirty? no. you were going to leave it on his desk before the clock even struck eight. you needed to reclaim some semblance of control.
the glass door of the copy room clicked, making your heart skip a painful beat. you didn’t turn around immediately, your eyes freezing on the shifting reflection in the dark glass window of the courtyard outside.
jungwon stepped into the room. he closed the door with a slow, deliberate click, his eyes instantly locking onto the back of your neck. he had already shed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt crisp and immaculate, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms with casual neatness. he looked entirely rested, completely untouched by the poison of the night before.
"you're early." he murmured. his voice was already in that register. there was no marketing team here. no senior managers. just the thrum of the printer and the suffocating gravity of his presence.
"i told you it would be ready." you said, your voice tighter than you intended. you reached out to grab the stack of papers from the tray, keeping your back turned to him, desperately using the documents as a shield.
you heard the slow, measured sound of his dress shoes against the linoleum. he stopped just a step behind you. he didn't touch you yet. instead, he leaned forward slightly, his shadow completely engulfing yours as he looked over your shoulder at the printer tray. the heat radiating from his chest was immense, close enough that you could feel the faint movement of his shirt fabric against your back every time he took a breath.
"the logistics flow." jungwon mused softly, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin behind your ear, making the tiny hairs on your arms stand up. "always so efficient, y/n. always running away into your work the moment things get too heavy."
you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the paper tray until your knuckles turned white. "i'm just doing my job. you can take the files and go."
"is that what you want?" he asked. the question was low, quiet, and laced with a terrifying patience. he reached out, his long fingers slowly sliding into the tray right next to yours. he didn't grab the papers. instead, the side of his index finger brushed against yours, a light, almost imperceptible contact that sent an electric jolt straight down your spine.
you flinched, trying to pull your hand back, but jungwon was faster. his hand turned, his fingers trapping your wrist against the plastic edge of the tray. he didn't squeeze. he just held you there with the weight of his palm, his thumb resting directly over your pulse point, feeling the erratic thudding of your heart.
"you're still shaking." he whispered, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerously satisfied. "just like last night. did you think the morning air would make you forget how it felt?"
you refused to turn around, keeping your face fixed on the blinking light of the copy machine, but your breathing was already turning shallow. "jungwon, stop. someone will come in. the cleaning staff-"
"the cleaning staff finished thirty minutes ago." he interrupted smoothly, his voice a calm barrier that shut out the rest of the world. he took a half step closer, his chest fully pressing into your back now, the solid weight of his body anchoring you against the counter. "we have time. i told you that, didn't i?"
he slowly let go of your wrist, but before you could draw a breath of relief, his hand moved up to your shoulder. his long fingers settled over the fabric of your blouse, his thumb tracing the exact spot where jay's hand had lingered the night before. the pressure was firm, heavy, and intensely possessive, as if he were systematically erasing anyone else's touch from your skin.
"tell me, y/n." jungwon murmured, his jaw brushing against the side of your hair as he leaned in, his voice a raspy vibration that rattled through your bones. "when you were sitting across from me last night, letting him lean into your space... were you thinking about how much harder i would touch you when we were alone?"
the question hung in the warm, enclosed air of the copy room, heavy and explicit. your heart hitched, a fractured sound escaping your throat before you could stop it. you squeezed your eyes shut, hating how instantly your body reacted to the proximity, hating the dizzying rush of heat that flooded your veins despite the icy hangover. "i wasn't thinking about you." you lied, the whisper thin and trembling against the steady hum of the printer.
jungwon let out a low hum against your neck. it wasn't a laugh, it was a sound of pure, clinical amusement. he didn't call you a liar, he didn't need to. instead, his hand slid slowly down from your shoulder, his palm tracing the rigid line of your spine through the fabric of your blazer. the movement was agonizingly gradual, every millimeter of his touch deliberate, testing your resistance, feeling the way your muscles locked tight under his hands.
when his palm reached the small of your back, he paused. he leaned his weight into you just a fraction more, the solid plane of his chest flattening completely against your shoulder blades. the sheer heat of him seemed to melt straight through your corporate layers. "you're so tense." he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin right below your earlobe. you shivered violently, your hands blindly gripping the edge of the printer counter behind you. "relax for me, y/n. we aren't at the table anymore. there's no senior manager to save you this time."
his other hand came up, his long fingers sliding under your chin. he didn't force you to turn around yet. he just tilted your head back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. his thumb stroked the soft skin right over your jumping pulse, his touch agonizingly light, a stark contrast to the crushing weight of his body pressing you into the counter. "look at the glass." he murmured softly, a quiet command.
your eyes automatically opened, flickering to the dark reflection in the courtyard window directly ahead. through the dim glass, you could see the two of you — completely tangled together in the shadow of the industrial machine. your head was tilted back against his shoulder, your face flushed and eyes wide with a desperate panic. jungwon was looking at your reflection, his dark eyes hollowed of all his polite warmth, filled instead with that sharp satisfaction. he looked entirely in control. he looked like he owned the very air you were breathing.
"see that?" jungwon whispered, his thumb moving up to trace the trembling outline of your lower lip. "this is exactly how you looked in my head all weekend. desperate. trapped. completely at my mercy." he slowly turned your face toward him, forcing you to break eye contact with the reflection and look directly at his actual features. up close, the golden boy mask was entirely gone. his jaw was set, a heavy intensity clouding his eyes as his gaze dropped to your mouth. he didn't kiss you. he just hovered there, his breath hot and shallow against your lips, letting the tension build until it felt like a physical wire snapping between you.
"jungwon." you breathed, your voice a desperate plea, though even you didn't know if you were begging him to stop or begging him to finally end the torture.
"i'm listening." he murmured, his raspy voice dropping into an even lower register as his hand slid from your chin down to the collar of your blouse, his fingers lightly brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone. "tell me what you want, y/n. tell me to stop. let me hear you say it."
"c-can't." you said between pants, feeling too overwhelmed by his presence to remember how to breathe properly.
"you can't or you won't? come on, we both know you can. this is a safe space, y/n." jungwon spoke in a mocking tone, his fingers trailing lower until they hooked into the top edge of your camisole, pulling the silk taut against your skin. "it's just you and me. no one is going to walk through that door and catch you admitting it."
the condescending arrogance in his voice hit you like a bucket of ice water. he wasn't just trying to touch you, he was trying to break you. he wanted the satisfaction of hearing you completely dismantle your own walls for his ego.
you swallowed down the panic, forcing your hands flat against his chest. you didn't lean into him. instead, you locked your elbows, pushing back against the solid weight of his frame with every ounce of strength you had left. "i can't because it's pathetic." you said, your voice cracking slightly but carrying a sudden coldness. you forced your eyes up to meet his, refusing to let him see you blink. "you're pathetic, jungwon."
the mocking smile vanished from his face instantly. his eyes went wide, then narrowed into two dangerous, icy slits. the absolute stillness that came over him was terrifying. "what did you say?" he murmured, his voice dropping so low it was almost entirely swallowed by the hum of the printer.
"y-you heard me." you breathed, your chest heaving against his palms, your fingers curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt as you fought to keep the distance between your faces. "you spend all week playing the perfect, golden boy coworker, but you're so deeply insecure that the second someone else touches my shoulder, you have to lock me in a room just to force yourself into my head. you didn't lock this door because you're in control. you locked it because you're terrified i'll walk right past your cubicle and not play your little game."
the silence that followed was suffocating. the air in the copy room turned completely hostile. you could feel the violent thudding of his heart beneath your palms — rapid, uneven, and entirely unmasked. you had ripped the skin right off his pride, and for a split second, you saw a flash of genuine fury in his eyes.
his hand at your collar didn't loosen. it tightened, his knuckles digging hard against your collarbone as he slammed his other hand flat on the counter directly over your papers, the heavy bang echoing off the concrete walls. he leaned his entire weight forward, completely crushing your attempt to hold him back, his chest pinning your hands right against his own sternum.
"you think you know me?" jungwon rasped, his face inches from yours, his breath ragged and hot against your mouth. the polite cadence of his voice was completely gone, replaced by a gravelly edge that made your spine freeze. "you think i'm doing this because i'm insecure?"
"let go of me." you demanded, your voice rising, your thighs straining against the solid line of his legs as he anchored you into the machine. you twisted your wrist, trying to tear yourself out of his space, but he didn't give you a single inch of air.
"i told you to say the word 'stop', y/n." he whispered, his jaw setting so hard the muscle in his cheek violently pulsed. his lips brushed against yours with a bruising friction as he spoke, his grip on your waist beneath your shirt turning tight enough to leave marks. "but you didn't say it. you used your mouth to bite at me instead, because you know exactly what happens to those neat little walls of yours the second you actually let me touch you."
your breath caught, the bruising friction of his lips leaving a stinging heat behind. you wanted to spit another insult directly into his face, wanted to tear at the pristine cotton of his shirt just to force his heavy frame off yours, but the sheer physical mass of him was completely overwhelming. he was breathing heavily, his chest expanding and compressing violently against your pinned hands, forcing you to feel every single furious heartbeat.
"i don't want you touching me." you choked out, your voice dropping to a whisper as you tried to wrench your waist out of his grip. you twisted your hips, a sharp effort to break his hold, but his fingers only dug deeper into your skin. his palm slid completely beneath the hem of your shirt, his bare, burning skin making direct contact with the small of your back. the unmediated warmth made you flinch, your spine arching instinctively into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to pull away. he anchored you so firmly against the metal counter that you could feel the hard line of his thigh locking your knees together.
jungwon let out a low, rough sound from the back of his throat. the territorial anger in his eyes didn't vanish, but it shifted, darkening until his pupils practically swallowed the brown of his irises. he liked the fight. he liked that you were clawing for control, because it meant you were entirely consumed by him. "then tell me to stop." he murmured, his voice dropping into that breathless cadence that sent a terrifying ache straight down your lower stomach. he leaned his head down, his lips dragging slowly along the tense line of your jaw, down to the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. "say the word, y/n. tell me you hate this. tell me you want me to let go and go back to my desk."
you bit your lip so hard the iron taste of copper flared on your tongue again. you couldn't say it. the word was physically stuck in your throat, choking you, because deep beneath the suffocating layers of your panic and your rage, the leaden weight in your veins was turning into a pulsing heat. the absolute restriction of your corporate clothes — the tight pencil skirt restricting your movement, the stiff fabric of your blouse pinned against his chest — only made the raw reality of his bare hand on your waist feel a thousand times more scandalous.
"see?" jungwon whispered, his hot breath blooming against your skin as his teeth agonizingly grazed the soft lobe of your ear.
a violent shudder racked your entire frame, and he caught it instantly. his grip on your hip shifted, his palm sliding slowly up the curve of your ribcage, his thumb tracing the spaces between your ribs with a slow pressure that made your breathing fail completely.
"your mouth says one thing," he rasped, his nose dragging across your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look at you. "but your body is begging me not to listen to you."
"i'm not... begging you for anything." you gasped out, your hands finally curling into his shirt, using the grip to try and violently shove him back. when he didn't budge, you tried to bring your knee up, a clumsy attempt to force some space between your lower bodies.
jungwon anticipated it instantly. he shifted his weight, his heavy thigh sliding higher, crowding directly between yours under the cover of your skirt and pinning your legs completely against the lower panel of the printer. the sudden, deep pressure of his leg against the most sensitive part of you sent a violent shockwave straight up your spine.
your eyes flew open, a broken gasp tearing from your throat before you could stop it, your fingers tightening into the cotton of his shirt so hard the seams strained.
jungwon froze. his eyes snapped back up to yours, his own breath hitching loudly in the quiet room. the mocking arrogance was entirely dead, replaced by a raw, desperate hunger that made his features look sharper, darker, and completely undone. he looked down at your parted lips, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle violently throbbed.
"y/n." he rasped, his voice breaking on your name, the sound so private and broken it made your chest ache. his hand on your ribs slid higher, his thumb lightly brushing the underside of your breast through the silk, his touch no longer calculated, but shaking with the exact same tremor he had mocked you for just minutes ago. "look what you do to me. look at what you're making me do."
your eyes past his shoulder, completely freezing on the frosted glass pane of the door. the sheer terror of a shadow appearing out there made your entire chest lock up, your lungs refusing to expand. "jungwon, the elevator." you breathed, the words a frantic stutter against his chin. "i-i heard the chime. early shifts start at seven. someone is on the floor. let go, please, someone is going to-"
he didn't even flinch at the mention of the corridor outside. if anything, the risk only seemed to strip away the very last of his restraint. his hand beneath your shirt slid lower, his long fingers hooking directly into the waistband of your skirt. with a slow pressure, his palm slipped completely underneath the fabric, his bare skin making direct contact with the sensitive curve of your hip. you let out a strangled gasp at the sudden touch, the sound instantly muffled as he crowded his chest harder against yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "let them walk in." he whispered, his voice a dark vibration that rolled straight through your skin.
his lips dragged along your throat, sucking lightly at the soft skin right over your pulse point until you shivered so violently your fingers lost their grip on his shirt. your knees completely gave out, your lower body turning to lead. but you didn’t fall as the solid mass of his thigh wedged deeply between yours, riding high against your crotch under the cover of your tangled skirts. he shifted his weight, the blunt, agonizingly slow friction of his leg pressing directly into the aching center of your heat.
and then, through the thrum of the printer, you heard it. the distant click of dress shoes on the floor down the hall. someone was walking toward the supply wing. panic flared white-hot in your stomach, a chaotic rush of adrenaline that made you violently struggle against him. you shoved your palms against his hard chest, twisting your hips in a desperate effort to tear yourself away from his leg before the footsteps could get closer. "jungwon, they're coming down the corridor.” you whimpered, your voice cracking with a very real, suffocating terror. "stop, please, the lights are on, they'll see our shadows through the glass-"
instead of pulling back, jungwon grabbed both of your wrists in a single grip, forcing your hands down and pinning them flat against the cold metal counter behind your hips. you were completely exposed, your back arched over the machine, your chest heaving past your open blouse as he looked down at you with ravenous eyes. his free hand slid down from your hip, his fingers disappearing entirely beneath the hem of your skirt. the fabric hitched up past your thighs as his palm moved upward, tracing the bare skin of your inner thigh with a terrifyingly deliberate speed. you tried to lock your legs together, to bite down on the heat, but his knee pushed harder between yours, forcing you open, anchoring you so tightly against the counter that you couldn't move a single inch.
the footsteps outside grew louder, pausing just a few meters away near the central cubicles. "jungwon, please." you cried out in a breathless plea, tears of sheer panic pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared at the door, expecting the handle to turn at any second.
he leaned down until his lips were hovering a millimeter away from yours, catching the frantic, terrified pants breaking from your mouth. his long fingers slid past the lace edge of your underwear, his knuckles brushing against your damp skin, finding the slick, embarrassingly hot reality of how ruined you already were for him. "then don't make a sound." he murmured, his jaw clenching as his fingers slowly slid inside you, making you give a helpless lurch against his hand. his eyes burned into yours, completely unhinged, as he whispered into your lips. "if you breathe too loud, y/n, they're going to hear you."
the words died in your throat, instantly choked out by the agonizingly deep, slow stretch of his fingers moving inside you. a sharp tremor racked your lower body, your hips lifting off the counter in a desperate reflex to escape the overwhelming intrusion. but jungwon wouldn't let you move. his iron grip on your wrists clamped down harder against the metal, the cold surface biting into your skin while his thigh pinned your knees wide apart, keeping you utterly trapped against his hand.
outside, the distinct sound of a drawer opening cut through the silence of the floor. a binder was pulled out, the plastic rings clicking open, just on the other side of the thin wall. tears of sheer panic spilled over your lashes, blurring your vision as you stared at the door. your mouth parted to let out a ragged sob of fear, but jungwon immediately leaned down, sealing his lips over yours to capture the sound before it could even form. the kiss was bruising and desperate, an unyielding barrier that completely swallowed your frantic pants.
beneath your skirt, his hand began to move with an agonizingly slow, rhythmic friction. each stroke was a deliberate torture, his fingers sliding deeply into your aching heat before curling slightly, deliberately targeting the sensitive walls within you. your core clenched violently around his touch, a shameful wetness coating his knuckles as your body betrayed your terror, adapting instantly to his rhythm.
jungwon let out a shuddering breath through his nose, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he kept his mouth locked over yours. you could taste the faint hint of mint and the raw desire, his jaw working against yours as his thumb found the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. he pressed down firmly, moving in a tight circle that sent a devastating jolt of pure pleasure straight up your spine.
you buckled against him, your fingers spasming within his tight grip, trying to claw at the counter to find some anchor. a muffled, high pitched whimper leaked into his mouth, your chest heaving violently against his sternum as the edge of an inevitable climax began to tighten in your lower stomach. you twisted your face away from his, trying to breathe, trying to beg him to stop before you lost control entirely.
"please." you mouthed against his jaw, your voice nothing more than a silent puff of air. "jungwon, they'll hear."
the rustle of papers outside paused again. the heavy sound of a sigh carried through the quiet corridor, followed by the slow, turning scrape of dress shoes. they were moving again, their footsteps pacing closer to the copy room door this time, the shadow growing larger against the frosted glass pane.
jungwon's eyes snapped open, dark and completely wild with the illicit thrill of the risk. he didn't pull his hand back. instead, his fingers drove deeper, hooking into you with a possessive speed that made your hips violently jerk against his thigh. his mouth came right back to your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive lobe as he whispered in a ragged tone.
"hold it in." he breathed, the words a cutting command against your wet skin. "if you make a sound right now, they're going to open this door."
the shadow on the frosted glass stopped directly in front of the entrance. the silhouette was sharp, the distinct outline of a hand reaching out toward the silver handle visible through the pane. panic turned into absolute, paralyzing ice in your veins. your eyes stretched wide, staring at the shifting metal of the handle, waiting for the distinct click of the lock to draw their attention. you wanted to vanish into the floor, wanted to claw your way out of his grip, but your body was entirely failing you.
beneath your skirt, jungwon didn't give you a single second to process the terror. his thumb pressed down with a heavy force against your core, while his fingers drove into your slick heat with a sudden, relentless pace. the friction was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure fracturing your mind completely and turning the fear into something dangerously volatile.
a suffocating sob rose from your chest, your mouth opening in a silent, desperate scream for him to stop, to let you breathe, to save you from the imminent ruin. but jungwon caught your face with his free hand, his palm clamping hard over your mouth to stifle the sound before it could leave your lips. his long fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing your head back against his shoulder as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
you buckled violently against his palm, your hips jerking upward as the intense contraction of a climax slammed into your lower stomach. it was a silent explosion. your core clamped down ruthlessly around his moving fingers, pulsing in tight waves that had you trembling from head to toe. the sheer intensity of it made your vision go dark at the edges, your body shaking helplessly against the hard metal counter while every single muffled gasp was completely crushed into the skin of his hand.
outside, the door handle gave a sharp, sudden rattle. someone was trying to push it open, but jungwon didn't pull back. he let out a ragged groan against your collarbone, his jaw clenching so hard the bone looked sharp as his fingers curled deeply inside you, absorbing the violent spasms of your release. his dark eyes flickered to the rattling handle, a completely unhinged intensity clouding his features as he listened to the muffled voice outside mutter an annoyed curse about the door being jammed.
the footsteps finally turned away, the sound of dress shoes retreating back down the long corridor toward the main elevators.
only when the silence of the office floor returned did jungwon slowly slide his wet fingers out from beneath your skirt. his palm remained firmly over your mouth for a few seconds longer, catching the broken pants that tore from your throat as your legs turned to water. you collapsed against his chest, completely ruined, with nothing but the mechanical hum of the printer to fill the space between you.
he slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your wet lips. you immediately turned your head away, drawing in a ragged breath that trembled in your chest. the silence of the copy room returned, thick and suffocating.
you tried to smooth down your skirt with shaking hands, your fingers catching on the wrinkled fabric. the reality of what had just happened — and how close you had come to being caught — settled heavily in your stomach. a sharp knot of anxiety and resentment tightened in your throat.
"let me go." you whispered, refusing to look at him as you pushed weakly against his chest. "someone else will be here soon. the department starts filling up in ten minutes."
jungwon didn't move. he stood perfectly still, his chest expanding slowly against your palms as he looked down at you. the mocking arrogance was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that felt far more dangerous. he looked at your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, and the way your chest was still heaving. he was breathing heavily too, his usual immaculate composure slightly frayed, his tie shifted slightly to the side.
"you're still burning up." he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that low register. he reached out, his long fingers catching your jaw and gently but firmly turning your face back toward him. "and you're still looking at the door."
"because this is insane!" you gritted out, a tear of frustration finally slipping down your cheek. "you locked me in a copy room. anyone could have walked in. you could have ruined everything."
he didn't answer right away. he just stared at you, hi eyes tracking the tear down your cheek before his gaze dropped back to your mouth. the silence stretched between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. there was a quiet weight to his presence, an undeniable gravity that made it impossible to truly step away even though his grip on your wrists had loosened.
slowly, his hand slid from your jaw down to the open collar of your blouse. his knuckles brushed against your collarbone, making you flinch, but you didn't pull away. your body was still humming from the release, completely sensitized, and the cool air of the room against your damp skin only made his touch feel warmer.
"i didn't ruin it." he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the center of your lower lip. his other hand settled on your hip, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt, pulling your lower body back flush against his thigh. "and we aren't finished."
the certainty in his voice made your heart skip a beat. you glanced at the frosted glass of the door again, the terror of being seen mixing with the pulsing ache that was already rebuilding in your lower stomach.
jungwon reached down, his fingers working efficiently at the buckle of his belt. the metallic click sounded incredibly loud in the small room. he didn't make a scene, he just looked at you with a calm, dark focus that made your knees feel weak all over again. he unzipped his slacks, his rigid length freeing itself against your thigh. he hooked his hand under your knee, lifting your leg slightly to anchor it against his hip, his eyes never leaving yours as he guided himself directly against your wet opening.
"quiet, y/n." he murmured, his breath hot against your face as he leaned his weight forward. "keep your eyes on me."
he sank into you slowly, a deliberate pressure that made your eyes stretch wide as he filled you completely. a choked gasp caught in your throat, your fingers instantly digging into the hard fabric of his shoulders to keep from crying out. the stretch was immense, a burning ache that immediately sent a trembling wave of heat straight to your core.
jungwon let out a shaky exhale against your lips, his jaw tight as he paused, letting your tight walls adjust to the thick length of his cock. he didn't move for a long moment, simply holding you pinned against the printer, his gaze locked ruthlessly onto yours. you could see the subtle fracture in his calm facade — the way his pupils were completely dilated, the rapid pulse jumping in his neck, the sheer heat radiating from his skin.
"look at me." he whispered again, his voice a gravelly thread.
you forced yourself to keep eye contact, even as a distant telephone began to ring out in the main bullpen, a stark reminder that the office was slowly coming to life. every second he stayed inside you felt like a countdown to absolute disaster.
slowly, jungwon began to move. he pulled back just far enough to tease, before driving back in with a deep thrust that tilted your hips back against the counter. the friction was agonizingly perfect, hitting the exact spot his fingers had ruined just minutes before. your back arched instinctively, a desperate, muffled whimper escaping your lips before you could stop it.
instantly, jungwon's hand came up, his palm pressing firmly over your mouth to stifle the sound. he didn't stop his rhythm. he kept the pace slow and bruising, his hips grinding into yours with a steady desperation that left you entirely breathless. under the cover of your hitched up skirt, the wet, sliding sound of his entry felt dangerously loud in the quiet room.
"shhhh. see how easy it was? mmh?" the vibration of his low voice hummed right against your ear, the condescending edge returning but wrapped in a breathless desperation that betrayed how deeply he was actually unraveling. you shook your head against his palm, a muffled protest dying against his skin as he drove into you again, harder this time. the blunt force of his hips bottoming out against yours made your vision blur, the intense internal friction striking a cord of pure pleasure that threatened to snap your remaining restraint.
he liked the resistance, but he liked your body's compliance even more. his fingers shifted slightly on your face, his thumb digging into the soft flesh of your cheek to keep you looking directly at him while his lower body maintained that punishing rhythm. the slick friction between your thighs was getting louder with every thrust, a scandalous sound that made your face burn with a fresh wave of shame.
outside, the distinct whine of the main printer network warming up echoed through the wall. someone had just logged into their computer at a nearby cubicle. the floor was officially waking up.
jungwon noticed it too. his eyes narrowed, a dangerous thrill flashing through his gaze as he leaned in even closer, his chest completely crushing your pinned hands against his sternum. he pulled out almost completely, a cruel, agonizingly slow withdrawal that left you feeling hollow and aching, before he slammed back in all the way to the hilt.
a loud gasp was completely smothered by his hand, your hips jerking helplessly against his heavy thigh as a sudden wave of heat coiled tightly in your lower stomach.
"you're shaking." he murmured against his own palm, his breath hot and damp over your mouth as his pace finally began to quicken, losing its calculated restraint. his jaw was set so hard the muscle violently pulsed, his own breathing breaking into uneven pants against your neck. "look at you. you're so tight around me. tell me how pathetic i am now, y/n."
he didn't wait for an answer, nor did he give you the room to form one. he lifted your leg a fraction higher, anchoring you ruthlessly against his hip as his thrusts became faster, deeper, and entirely unmasked. every push drove you closer to another ruinous collapse, your fingers clawing uselessly at his shoulders as you fought to keep from making a single sound that would bring the office crashing down around you.
your teeth sank directly into the meat of his palm, a desperate, vicious bite to keep from screaming as another brutal thrust hit your core. jungwon let out a gravelly hiss against your ear, but he didn't pull his hand away. if anything, the sharp pain only made his grip on your face tighten, his fingers digging into your jaw with a bruising force that kept your head pinned back against the metal machine. his hips didn't slow down for a fraction of a second, they slammed into yours with an unhinged speed that had the industrial printer rattling faintly beneath your lower back.
the sticky friction between your thighs was unbearable, a visual and physical ruin that made your mind spin with a sickening blend of terror and intense pleasure. outside, the click of a ceramic mug hitting a desk sounded just feet away from the copy room door.
"jungwon... mmmph." you tried to speak against his skin, your words muffled into an unidentifiable whine as your hips violently buckled. you were getting too close, the coiled heat in your stomach tightening into a knot so sharp it made your knees completely lose their strength. you were going to fall apart right there, right into his hands, with half the marketing team just beyond the frosted glass.
he pulled his hand down from your mouth just a millimeter, his eyes wild and dark, entirely consumed by the sight of your ruined, weeping expression. "say it." he rasped, his voice an unraveled mess as he drove himself into you to the absolute hilt, over and over. "tell me what you want me to do before someone opens this door, y/n. tell me."
"please." you choked out, your voice a pathetic whisper, your fingers tearing at the crisp fabric of his shirt as the impending wave crashed over you. "hurry... jungwon, please, they're right outside."
a low, triumphant growl tore from the back of his throat. he didn't play the mocking gentleman anymore, he just grabbed your other thigh, completely lifting you off the counter as his thrusts became deep, blind, and ruthless. your core clenched around him in violent contractions, a silent climax shattering your posture as you buried your face into his neck, biting his collarbone to swallow the ragged scream tearing from your lungs.
jungwon gave two more desperate shoves into your pulsing heat, his whole body locking up as a low groan escaped his lips. he buried his face in your hair, his length twitching deeply inside you as he filled you completely, his chest heaving against your crushed ribs.
the silence that followed was deafening, save for the frantic synchronicity of your breathing. he kept you lifted against him for a long moment, his body trembling slightly from the sheer force of his release as his weight anchored you firmly to the edge of the counter. outside, the murmur of two coworkers talking about their weekend plans drifted through the drywall, their voices casual, entirely unaware of the absolute ruin taking place just inches away.
slowly, the tension began to drain from jungwon's rigid frame. he let out a shuddering exhale against your temple, his forehead resting against yours as his grip on your thighs loosened just enough to let your heels touch the floor again. your knees immediately buckled, your legs feeling like jelly, and you had to clutch the front of his shirt just to keep your balance.
"stay still." he murmured, his voice incredibly low and rough, stripped entirely of its usual smooth cadence.
he didn't pull out of you immediately. instead, his hands slid up from your thighs to your waist, his thumbs tracing the small of your back beneath your shirt as he waited for the aftershocks of your climax to finally subside. every involuntary twitch of your inner muscles made his jaw clench, a lingering heat still humming between your lower bodies.
the internal turmoil in your chest was suffocating. you felt exposed, completely unraveled, and the sharp sting of shame was already beginning to fight its way through the fading haze of pleasure. you had begged him. you had completely dismantled your own walls and given him exactly what he wanted just because you were terrified of being caught.
"let me down." you whispered, your voice raw and completely spent, your eyes fixed strictly on the silver buttons of his vest. you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face, not with the sticky reality of what you had just done settling between your thighs.
jungwon didn't argue. with a careful shift of his weight, he slid out of you. the sudden absence of his heat made you shiver, a cold drop of moisture tracing its way down your inner thigh as the fabric of your underwear snapped back into place, damp and ruined.
he stepped back just half an inch, his fingers lingering on your hips for a split second before he reached down to fix his trousers. the click of his belt buckle sounded agonizingly permanent, signaling the immediate return of the corporate world you had both just stepped out of. jungwon reached around you without a word, his long fingers smoothly pressing the button on the top console of the copier. the machine came alive with a loud whir, instantly printing the remaining pages of your presentation, the rhythmic thumping of the paper tray filling the tense silence between you.
it was a clean transition back to reality. you immediately smoothed down your pencil skirt, your hands still trembling so violently that you could barely straighten the hem over your knees. you tucked your blouse back into the waistband with clumsy movements, your heart still hammering against your ribs from the sheer panic of the hallway voices. the dampness between your thighs was a humiliating reminder of what had just happened, but you forced yourself to ignore it, turning your back to him to gather the freshly printed documents from the tray.
behind you, the rustle of fabric signaled jungwon fixing his tie. when you finally turned around, the wild animal from moments ago was completely gone.
he was standing by the door, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine white shirt, his expression perfectly unreadable. his jaw was no longer clenched, his breathing had completely evened out, and the immaculate, polite golden boy facade was back in place as if it had never left. if it weren't for the slight flush lingering on his neck and the faint scent of your shared heat in the small room, you could have easily convinced yourself you imagined the whole thing. he reached for the silver handle, unlocking the door with a practiced click that felt devastatingly casual.
"the quarterly reports for the marketing team are on your desk, right?" he asked, his voice returning to that smooth, pleasant tone he used during morning meetings. there was no trace of the gravelly whisper that had just ruined you against the counter.
you swallowed the thick lump of shame in your throat, clutching the stack of papers against your chest like a shield. "yes. i'll review them before the noon briefing."
"perfect. let's make sure the formatting is correct before we present to the board." he replied, giving you a polite, professional nod.
he opened the door, stepping out into the bright corridor without a single backward glance, immediately greeting a passing manager with his charming smile. you stood alone in the dim room for a second longer, your legs still shaking, forced to step right out behind him and pretend the neat little walls of your corporate life hadn't just been completely shattered.
the transition was so seamless it made your stomach turn. you stepped out into the hallway a few paces behind him, the fluorescent lights of the main floor hitting your eyes with a punishing brightness. the office was alive now. the low hum of chatter, the sharp clacking of keyboards, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as if the world hadn't completely shifted on its axis over the last twenty minutes.
you walked past the central cubicles, your thigh muscles tightening painfully with every step, a constant physical reminder of his weight pinning you down. it was terrifying how normal everything looked. you could feel the damp silk of your underwear clinging to your skin, while jungwon walked a few meters ahead of you with a perfectly straight spine, smoothly dropping off a folder at the reception desk.
he didn't look back at you. not once.
when you reached your desk, you sat down a little too quickly, a small gasp catching in your throat as your sensitized skin made contact with the cold chair. you immediately pulled the stack of warm printer papers in front of you, staring blindly at the columns of numbers. your mind was a chaotic, spinning mess of internal noise. how is he doing that? you thought, your fingers trembling as you gripped your pen. how is he just sitting there?
across the small divider, you could see the top of his dark head as he settled into his own desk. he adjusted his monitor, clicked his mouse, and reached for his pen with the exact same calm precision he displayed every single morning.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
in the weeks that followed, the absolute silence between you became a far more brutal punishment than any of his condescending words in the copy room.
the facade didn't break. not that day, not the next, and not during the endless string of standard departmental meetings that dragged on through the middle of the month. jungwon went back to being the perfect golden boy of the floor. he passed you files with a polite nod. he answered your emails with professional efficiency. if your fingers accidentally brushed over a shared document during a briefing, his hand would retract instantly, his expression remaining so utterly detached you started to wonder if you had hallucinated the entire thing again.
but the physical memory of him refused to fade. every time you walked past that specific frosted glass door in the morning, your stomach would drop, a phantom warmth blooming low in your belly. you hated how your eyes automatically tracked him through the glass partition of his cubicle, how you caught yourself memorizing the slight roll of his sleeves or the sharp line of his jaw when he leaned over his desk.
you were drowning in the quiet space he had put between you, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, but jungwon simply refused to acknowledge it. your biggest fear had actually come true and you couldn’t do much about it.
until a rainy tuesday three weeks later. the rest of the team had already left for a corporate dinner you had skipped, leaving the floor dark and empty save for the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above your desk. you were typing a final report, your shoulders tense, when a shadow suddenly fell across your papers.
you snapped your head up. jungwon was standing on the other side of your partition, his trench coat slung over his arm, his briefcase already in hand. he looked exactly like he did every evening — immaculate, composed, completely out of reach.
"i'm locking up the main floor." he said, his voice carrying that pleasant cadence that had kept you at a distance for twenty one days. "are you finishing up soon, y/n?"
you swallowed hard, your fingers freezing over the keys as the sheer, suffocating weight of his presence hit you all at once. the weeks of forced indifference, the stolen glances, and the burning shame of that morning in the supply closet flared hot in your chest. "i have ten minutes left." you managed to say, forcing your voice to stay even, refusing to let him see how much his simple proximity was making your pulse race. "you don't have to wait for me."
jungwon didn't move. he stood perfectly still in the dim aisle, his dark eyes fixed on your face. for a long second, the silence stretched between you, thick with the unspoken reality of what you had done against that counter.
then, very slowly, his gaze dropped to your mouth. it was the first real break in his mask in a month. his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek giving a sharp pulse, and the familiar intensity flooded his eyes, clouding the brown until they looked almost entirely black. he wasn't looking at a coworker anymore. he was looking at you the exact same way he had right before he pinned your wrists to the metal.
"ten minutes." he murmured, his voice dropping into that low register that made your spine instantly freeze. he didn't step closer, and he didn't touch you, but the territorial grip of his eyes felt heavy against your skin. "i'll be by the elevators." he turned and walked away before you could breathe, his dress shoes clicking sharply against the floor, leaving you trembling in the empty office with the terrifying realization that the walls you had spent weeks building hadn't actually kept anything out.
after those agonizing ten minutes quickly passed, the elevator doors slid shut with a synchronized click, leaving the two of you entirely alone in the descending steel box.
the silence was thick, pressing heavily against your eardrums as the floor numbers ticked downward. you stood in the corner, clutching the strap of your bag with white-knuckled intensity, your eyes glued to the polished metal doors. you could feel the suffocating friction of his presence just two feet away. your mind was a chaotic, spinning mess of internal noise, replaying the dark look he had just given you across your desk. did he mean it? is he going to do something? you glanced at him from beneath your lashes, your heart hammering against your ribs.
jungwon was leaning casually against the handrail, one hand slid carelessly into his trouser pocket while the other held his briefcase. his eyes were fixed on the digital display above the door, his expression completely blank, perfectly smooth, and utterly nonchalant. the raspy voice from three minutes ago might as well have belonged to a ghost. his jaw was loose, his breathing perfectly rhythmic.
a sickening knot of realization twisted sharply in your stomach. he doesn't care. the thought hit you like a physical blow, draining the residual heat from your veins and replacing it with a hollow ache. the fierce, territorial grip of his eyes back at your cubicle hadn't been a confession or a break in his mask — it was just a reflex. a passing thought. he was just playing with you, testing to see if he still had that terrifying gravity over your body, and you had shown him your absolute ruin in a single second. you had let him see how easily he could freeze you when you had vehemently swore it could never happen, while he didn't even have the decency to let his composure slip for more than a heartbeat.
the elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal the dim, echoing expanse of the underground parking garage. jungwon straightened up smoothly, stepping out onto the concrete without waiting for you. his easy strides carried him toward his sleek sedan, his coat swinging slightly with the movement. he looked so effortlessly out of your reach, a pristine corporate entity who hadn't spent the last three weeks drowning in the memory of your slick heat coating his knuckles. to him, it was just another day. it was just an empty office floor.
"drive safe, y/n." he called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying that entirely detached cadence as he unlocked his car with a distant beep. he didn't look back to see your expression. he just slid into the driver's seat, closing the door with a definitive thud that echoed through the empty garage, leaving you standing under the flickering lights, completely hollowed out by his indifference.
you didn’t move until the taillights of his car disappeared up the concrete ramp, leaving the garage in a darker quiet. the bite of the underground air finally pierced through the numbness in your chest, forcing a shaky breath from your throat. you hated him. you hated him so deeply in that moment, but more than anything, you hated the pathetic way your skin still felt too tight, still humming with a desperate, unearned adrenaline just because he had looked at your mouth.
it was a game, you reminded yourself as you unlocked your own car, your fingers stiff against the steering wheel. just a power trip. you had spent three weeks thinking you were sharing a suffocating secret, drowning in the memory of his fingers, while he had probably forgotten the exact color of the underwear he had pushed aside.
the next morning, you arrived early, your spine perfectly straight, your eyes cold. you had spent the entire night rebuilding your own walls, cementing them with the raw humiliation of his easy departure.
and jungwon made it incredibly easy for you to believe the lie.
over the next two weeks, you watched him play his part with a terrifying, flawless precision. he still was the department's golden boy, the immaculate genius every higher-up adored and every intern whispered about. you sat at your desk and watched him smile charmingly at the new girl from hr, leaning just close enough to make her blush while he explained the expense report system. you heard the rumors through the office grapevine — how he had been seen leaving a lounge downtown with a senior designer from product development last friday, his jacket slung over his arm, looking effortlessly smooth.
he still was methodical. he still was calculated. he picked them apart, charmed them, used them, and then returned to his desk on monday morning without a single hair out of place. you were nothing special to him. you were just a checkbox in his sick need for control, a momentary lapse where he wanted to see if he could break the one person who didn't look at him like he hung the moon.
so you needed to stop looking. you treated him like a piece of office furniture — functional, necessary, and completely uninteresting. when he passed you files, you didn't look at his eyes. when he emailed you, you replied with one word confirmations. you forced yourself to believe you were completely over it.
but because you were the only one who actually saw past the perfect golden armor, you were the only one who noticed the tiny, almost invisible cracks.
it started with his posture. jungwon always sat perfectly straight, but lately, whenever jay came over to your desk to laugh and linger a little too long, jungwon’s broad shoulders would turn entirely rigid behind his partition. his keyboard would go dead silent. he wouldn't turn around, he wouldn't break his perfect facade, but his pen would stop clicking, hovering over his paperwork until jay finally walked away.
then came the morning briefings. he would sit at the head of the conference table, smoothly delivering metrics to the team with his usual pleasant, charming tone. everyone was captivated. but your eyes were fixed on his hands. while his voice was perfectly steady, his thumb was repeatedly tracing the silver band of his watch — a restless motion he only did when he was deeply unsettled. and once, just once, when you leaned forward to grab a printout, his eyes flickered down to your collarbone, his jaw tightening so hard the muscle violently pulsed before he smoothly transitioned to the next slide.
on friday afternoon, right before clock out, the office was buzzing with the energy of the weekend, people packing up their bags and making loud plans. jungwon was surrounded by three girls from marketing, holding court near the elevators, offering them that effortless, dimpled smile that always made them giggle. from your desk, he looked completely unbothered, entirely back to his usual routine of being the untouchable favorite.
you quietly zipped your bag, sliding your chair back to leave through the side exit, wanting to avoid the elevator crowd entirely.
as you walked past the main copy room — the very room that still made your stomach drop every time you glanced at the frosted glass — the door suddenly clicked open a fraction of an inch.
you paused, your heart skipping a beat. jungwon was inside, dropping off a stack of recycled papers. he hadn't seen you yet. he was completely alone, away from his audience, and for a split second, the charming golden boy was entirely dead. his head was down, his chest heaving in a slow breath that looked incredibly heavy. his fingers were gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles were stark white. the exact spot where he had pinned your wrists.
you took a step back, your shoes scuffing lightly against the floor. jungwon’s head snapped up. through the gap in the door, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the pleasant, fake sweet mask he had been wearing at the elevators just two minutes ago was completely shattered, replaced by a hollowed out frustration that made your breath hitch. he didn't move, and he didn't say a word. you both just stood there, the heavy silence of the copy room bleeding out into the hallway, cutting straight through the distant chatter of the office.
his eyes didn't leave yours. the unhinged intensity you thought you had imagined was right there, clouding the brown of his pupils until they looked almost black. his knuckles remained white against the counter, his broad shoulders rising and falling with that same heavy breath. it was a silent confession he couldn't take back, a glaring proof that while he was out there playing the untouchable prince, he was secretly rotting in the exact same memory that had been torturing you for weeks.
he’s losing, the realization hit your chest with a dizzying jolt. he’s pretending just as hard as i am. but then, almost as quickly as it had shattered, his mask began to piece itself back together. you could see the exact moment his calculating mind took over. his fingers slowly uncurled from the edge of the counter, his spine straightening into that familiar, impeccable posture. he let out a dismissive breath through his nose, his jaw tightening into a smooth, even line as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt.
by the time he took a step toward the doorway, it all was gone, replaced once again by the flawless colleague. "going home?" he asked, his voice sliding effortlessly back into that casual tone that made your stomach turn. he didn't lean in, and he didn't look at your mouth. he just stepped out into the hallway, pulling the copy room door shut behind him with a definitive click.
"yes." you managed to say, your voice flat, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. you hated how your heart was still hammering against your ribs, how your body still reacted to his proximity even when his eyes were completely blank again.
"good. enjoy the weekend, y/n." he replied, giving you an entirely standard nod that you would see him give any other staff member.
he turned on his heel and walked right back toward the elevators, smoothly slipping back into the crowd of marketing girls who were still waiting for him. as you walked away through the side exit, your chest ached with a burning confusion. he was still that same fake, dangerous boy, completely unreachable, but you were pretty sure of what you saw. the immaculate armor had a leak, and for the first time in a month, you didn’t seem to be the only one suffocating.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you spent the entire weekend trapped in the memory of those three seconds. no matter how hard you tried to push it away — whether you were cleaning your apartment or staring blindly at the television — all you could see was the unraveled frustration in his eyes before his mask snapped back into place. it changed everything. you had spent weeks drowning in shame, convinced you were the only one broken by what had happened, while he just smoothly moved on to the next person. but now it seemed like his nonchalance was just as fake as his charming, dimpled smile.
by monday morning, the office atmosphere felt different, charged with a quiet, invisible current that only the two of you could feel. you sat at your desk, keeping your head down, but you didn't feel like a victim anymore. the dynamic had subtly shifted. when jungwon arrived, he was back to his usual routine — laughing politely at a manager's bad joke, offering a sweet, effortless greeting to the receptionist. but as he walked past your partition to get to his desk, you didn't look away this time. you kept your eyes fixed on your screen, perfectly still, letting your deliberate indifference hang in the air like a wall.
you heard the distinct slide of his briefcase hitting his desk, followed by a sudden silence. he didn't sit down right away.
for a long, tense minute, the only sound between your cubicles was the low hum of the air conditioner. you could feel his gaze burning through the small gap in the divider, practically begging you to look up and give him the validation he always took from you. but you didn't give him a single inch. you casually reached for your ceramic mug, took a slow sip of your coffee, and clicked on your email spreadsheet. the keys of his keyboard suddenly rattled under his fingers with a force that was just a fraction too aggressive for his usual methodical rhythm.
around eleven, jay strolled over to your desk, leaning his hip against the edge of your partition with a lazy grin. "hey, y/n. a few of us are grabbing lunch down at that new bistro by the plaza later. you should come. i'll even cover your dessert if you help me look over the Q2 projections afterwards."
you offered jay a genuine smile, leaning back in your chair. "sure, jay. that sounds really nice, actually. let me just finish up this report."
"perfect. it's a date, then." jay joked, giving you a playful wink before turning to leave.
the exact second jay's footsteps faded down the hall, the quiet clicking of jungwon's keyboard completely stopped. the silence from his cubicle was suffocating, thick with a sudden hostility that made the hairs on your arms stand up.
a moment later, your inbox chimed with a new notification:
From: Yang Jungwon
To: Y/N
Subject: Q2 Presentation Formatting
Please bring the physical drafts of the marketing presentation to the main archive room on B1. There are inconsistencies in the data layout that need to be corrected immediately before the afternoon briefing.
your heart gave a violent thud against your ribs. the archive room. that windowless, isolated space in the basement where almost no one went during the day. you stared at the text on your screen, your fingers freezing over your mouse as the internal turmoil flared white-hot in your chest all over again. he was pulling the strings, falling back on his authority because his perfect, fake sweet persona wasn't working on you. he was desperate to get you behind a closed door, desperate to find out if he still held that volatile gravity over your body.
you slowly printed out the sheets, the rhythmic thumping of the machine sounding like a countdown. you gathered the warm papers against your chest, your knees feeling slightly weak as you stood up, forced to walk toward the elevators and find out exactly how much further his flawless armor was going to crack.
the basement air hit you first — cool, damp, and smelling faintly of dust and old paper.
the steel door of the archive room clicked shut behind you with an echoing thud that made your chest tighten. it was completely isolated down there, rows of high metal shelves stretching out under the harsh buzz of fluorescent tubes. you walked down the center aisle, the physical drafts clutched tightly against your chest like a shield, your heels clicking softly on the smooth concrete.
jungwon was already there. he was standing by a long metal sorting table at the back of the room, casually flipping through a thick folder. his suit jacket was off, draped neatly over the back of a nearby chair, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his elbows with that effortless precision.
"you said there were inconsistencies." you said, your voice cutting through the silence. you kept it flat, professional, and entirely devoid of the panic you knew he was used to extracting from you. you stepped up to the opposite side of the wide metal table, sliding the stack of papers across the surface between you.
jungwon didn't look up immediately. he slowly finished the line he was reading, tapped his pen against the table twice, and then finally raised his eyes.
the forced nonchalance in his gaze was breathtakingly thin, but he held it together. the pleasant, fake nice colleague was perfectly intact. "slide four." he murmured, his voice smooth, though it carried a quiet weight that felt incredibly heavy in the small room. "the formatting doesn't match the logistics ledger. we can't present sloppy work to the board."
"it's not sloppy." you replied smoothly, leaning your palms against the edge of the table, deliberately matching his unbothered posture. "jay reviewed the data layout with me last week. he said it was perfect."
the mention of his name hit the air like a live wire. jungwon's fingers tightened around his pen for a fraction of a second, his knuckles turning pale before he relaxed his grip. he didn't snap, and he didn't raise his voice. instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the metal table, looking at you with a calm, analytical focus that made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.
"jay doesn't sign off on your department's metrics." jungwon said, his tone dropping into a slightly lower register. "i do. if he wants to audit your work, he can do it through the proper channels. until then, i need you to align these numbers."
"i'll fix it at my desk, then." you said, reaching out to pull the papers back toward yourself, desperate to break the suffocating gravity of his presence.
but jungwon didn't let go of his side of the papers. his hand clamped down flat on the top sheet, trapping the documents against the metal. his dark eyes locked onto yours. the silence stretched between you and you could see the faint pulse jumping in his neck, the slight tightness in his jaw.
"we have an hour before the briefing, y/n." he murmured, his voice losing just a bit of its polished edge. "do it here. i need to verify it in real time."
you swallowed hard, your internal turmoil flaring white hot. you wanted to push back, wanted to call him out on his transparent power play, but the sheer, addictive thrill of having his unmasked attention kept you rooted to the spot. without breaking eye contact, you slowly pulled your laptop out of your bag, setting it on the table.
for the next ten minutes, the only sound in the archive room was the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard. you sat on a metal stool, keeping your posture rigid. jungwon remained directly across from you, ostensibly reviewing his ledger, but you could feel his eyes tracking every minor movement of your fingers, the way your collarbone shifted when you breathed, the tension in your shoulders. it was an agonizing tug of war, a silent battle of attrition to see who would fold first.
"done." you finally said, your voice sounding a little too thin in the quiet room. you pushed the laptop an inch forward. "the metrics are aligned."
jungwon closed his folder. instead of leaning over the table to look at the screen, he walked around it. every step he took felt impossibly loud. he didn't stop until he was standing right beside your stool, so close that his thigh brushed against your shoulder. his expensive scent entirely crowded out the musty smell of the basement, sending a treacherous wave of heat straight to your lower stomach. you froze, your hands resting rigidly in your lap, refusing to look up at him.
he leaned down, planting one hand on the metal table right next to your laptop, the other resting on the back of your stool, entirely caging you in. "is this what jay taught you?" jungwon murmured, his voice a mocking rasp right next to your ear. he wasn't even looking at the screen. his gaze was fixed on the side of your neck. "because the margins are still off."
"the margins are standard." you gritted out, your fingers curling into fists in your lap to keep them from trembling. the forced proximity was destroying your composure. "he actually knows how to work with the team, jungwon. unlike some people, he doesn't just use everyone around him for a power trip."
the air in the room completely stalled. jungwon let out a slow, sharp breath that fanned across your cheek. he didn't pull away. instead, he leaned in a fraction closer, the polished golden boy facade finally cracking.
"you're trying so hard, y/n." he whispered, his voice dark and utterly devoid of his usual corporate charm. "ignoring me in the hallways. sending one word emails. letting jay buy you coffee just to see if i'll react."
"i'm not trying to do anything." you shot back, finally turning your head to glare at him. it was a mistake. his face was mere inches from yours, his dark eyes completely consumed by that familiar intensity. the memory of his hand over your mouth, his hips crushing yours against the counter, suddenly screamed in the silence between you. "i just don't care about you anymore."
"liar." the word was a soft, cruel accusation. his eyes dropped to your lips, tracking the way they parted on a shaky intake of breath. his hand shifted from the back of your stool, his long fingers lightly grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck beneath your hair. "you care so much it's eating you alive."
you wanted to shove him away. you wanted to slap him. but as his thumb brushed over your pulse point, feeling the hammering rhythm of your heart, a humiliating ache bloomed in your chest. the fight drained out of you, replaced by a suffocating yearning that you had spent an entire month trying to kill.
"then stop playing games." you whispered, your voice cracking, a raw confession slipping out before you could stop it. "stop looking at me like that if you're just going to go back upstairs and pretend i don't exist. or are you just doing all this to humiliate me and keep your ego intact?"
jungwon's jaw locked. the muscle jumped violently beneath his skin, his eyes darkening into an absolute void as he stared down at you, the agonizing space between your lips separated by nothing but a few inches of cold basement air. the silence stretched for a long second, the harsh buzz of the lights above ringing in your ears.
"my ego." he repeated, the words tearing out of his throat in a harsh whisper. "you think my ego is intact."
his hand slid from the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling violently into the roots of your hair as he forced your head back. the movement was sharp, possessive, snapping the very last thread of your composure. he stepped right between your parted knees, the metal legs of your stool scraping loudly against the concrete as he dragged you inches closer to the edge of the table.
the solid warmth of his body pressed flush against your inner thighs, sending a blinding wave of heat straight to your center. you let out a choked gasp, your hands flying up to grip the lapels of his shirt, entirely unsure if you were trying to push him away or pull him closer.
"i haven't slept a full night in a month." he breathed against your mouth, his chest heaving against yours. the immaculate, calculating golden boy was completely gone, dissolving into someone desperate, unraveled, and entirely out of control. "i sit at my desk and watch you look right through me, and it takes every single ounce of my self control not to drag you under it and remind you exactly what you sounded like choking on my fingers."
your heart was hammering so violently it physically hurt. you stared up into his dark, ruined eyes, the resentment that had protected you for weeks crumbling into dust under the sheer weight of his confession.
"you want to know why i pretend, y/n? you want to know why i walk away?" jungwon continued, his voice dropping into a venomous growl, his thumb digging bruisingly into your jawline.
a hot tear of sheer, overwhelming frustration finally broke free, tracing down your cheek. "why?" you whispered pathetically, your walls completely dismantled.
"because if i let myself drop the act," he rasped, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flickering back up, pitch black and starving. "if i let myself actually think about how slick and ruined you were for me... how perfectly you clamped down on my cock while you begged me to hurry... i wouldn't just lock you in a copy room. i would bend you over every single desk on that floor and fuck that cold attitude right out of you until you couldn't drive home."
he didn't give you a chance to breathe, let alone answer. his mouth crashed down onto yours with a devastating force. it wasn't the teasing, mocking kiss from before. it was messy, filthy, and completely starved. his lips parted yours violently, his tongue driving deep into your mouth to swallow the broken sound that tore from your throat. he tasted like black coffee and unadulterated need.
the fight instantly drained out of your muscles. your hands, which had been clenched against his chest, completely surrendered, your fingers sliding up to fist into the crisp fabric at his shoulders. you kissed him back just as desperately, your body arching into his heat, chasing the exact friction that had been torturing your memory for weeks.
a low groan vibrated deep in his chest. he let go of your hair, wrapping both of his arms tightly around your waist and physically lifting you off the stool. the papers on the table scattered onto the concrete floor as he slammed your back down onto the cold metal surface, his heavy frame immediately settling right between your legs.
"open for me." he growled against your lips, his hand already sliding ruthlessly up your thigh, pushing your skirt out of the way. "let me see if you've been aching for it as badly as i have."
his hand didn't bother with being gentle. his long fingers dragged up your inner thigh, snagging on the lace of your underwear. he hooked two fingers under the damp fabric and shoved it aside with an almost violent tug. the cool basement air hit your exposed core for a fraction of a second before his blunt fingers pressed directly against your slick heat.
a shuddering breath tore from his lungs. he let his forehead drop against your shoulder, his chest heaving as he felt exactly how ready you were for him. "fuck." he rasped, his voice vibrating against your collarbone. he slid one thick finger deep inside you, the obscene sound echoing loudly in the quiet room. "you're completely soaked. you were sitting at your desk acting like i didn't exist while you were dripping wet for me, mmh?"
"jungwon-" you whimpered, your hips jerking instinctively upward to chase his hand. the humiliation of being so easily exposed was entirely drowned out by the blinding relief of finally having him touch you again.
"we have twenty minutes until the briefing." he muttered, his dark eyes snapping back up to yours, feral and unyielding. "i'm going to ruin you so badly you won't be able to look at that projector screen without shaking." he didn't waste another second. his free hand dropped to his waist, the sharp clink of his belt buckle sounding like a starting gun. he tore his zipper down, freeing his erect cock before gripping your hips with bruising force. he dragged you to the very edge of the sorting table, your lower half completely suspended off the metal as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist to anchor yourself.
he didn't tease. he just lined himself up, gripped your thighs tightly, and sank into you with one deep, ruthless thrust that buried him to the absolute hilt. a broken scream tore from your throat, but he swallowed it instantly, his mouth crashing back down onto yours. the stretch was agonizingly perfect. the contrast of the freezing metal table biting into your shoulder blades and the burning heat of him completely filling you made your mind entirely short circuit.
he broke the kiss just to catch his breath, his jaw clenched so tight the bone looked sharp enough to cut. "fuck, y/n." he groaned, his head falling back as his hips locked against yours for a second, absorbing the suffocating grip of your inner walls. "you're so tight."
and then he started to move. there was no methodical pacing, no calculated restraint. he fucked you with a frantic, punishing desperation, his hips pulling back only to slam into you with a wet slap that echoed obscenely off the metal shelves. the table actually rattled under his weight, every brutal thrust driving you backward, forcing your hands to claw helplessly at the ruined fabric of his shirt.
"jungwon, p-please. it's too fast." you choked out, your vision blurring with white hot tears as the friction immediately dialed up to an unbearable intensity. your core was already so sensitized from weeks of yearning that every time he bottomed out inside of you, a violent tremor shot straight through your stomach.
"it's not fast enough." he growled, his hand sliding up to grip your throat — not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to assert his absolute control, his thumb resting over your racing pulse. he stared down at you, his immaculate hair falling messily over his forehead, his eyes tracking every single expression that crossed your ruined face. "let go for me. fall apart right here, before we have to go back upstairs and pretend."
you couldn't hold on even if you tried. the ticking clock, the danger of the basement door, and the overwhelming reality of him finally taking what you both wanted completely shattered your restraint. your nails dug into his forearms, a high, desperate whine leaving your lips as your internal walls began to violently contract.
"that's it." he rasped, his pace turning blind and relentless as he felt your climax begin to milk him. "take it. take all of it."
you completely broke, a ragged sob tearing from your chest as the climax rippled through you, your core clamping down on his rigid length in relentless waves. jungwon let out a deep, guttural groan, his control instantly snapping as he gave one final brutal shove before burying his face in your neck, spilling hotly deep inside you as his entire body locked up against yours.
the absolute silence of the basement returned with a deafening weight, broken only by the frantic synch of your breathing.
he stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his chest heaving against you, his pulse hammering a violent rhythm against your neck where his face was still buried. the heat radiating from his skin was staggering, a stark contrast to the freezing metal table biting into your spine. inside you, the last of his frantic twitches subsided, leaving behind a pulsing warmth that made your head spin with a sickening cocktail of euphoria and panic.
ten minutes. your mind violently jolted back to the clock. we have ten minutes.
slowly, the rigid tension began to bleed out of jungwon’s frame. he let out a shuddering exhale against your skin, his forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. when he finally pulled back, the physical separation felt brutal. he slid out of you with a wet friction that made your inner muscles helplessly twitch, a drop of moisture immediately coming down your inner thigh just like the first time.
the transition back to reality was instant, cold, and utterly terrifying again.
jungwon didn't say a word. he stepped back just half an inch, his long fingers lingering on your hip for a fraction of a second before he reached down to fix his clothes. you watched him through blurred vision as he pulled his sleeves back down, buttoning his cuffs with steady movements. his hair was messy, a few dark strands falling over his eyes, and a telltale flush covered his cheeks, but his expression was already shutting down. the feral man who had just pinned you to a metal table was being buried alive once again, brick by brick, right before your eyes.
"fix your skirt." he murmured, his voice incredibly low, still carrying a rough edge that he was clearly trying to smooth over. he didn't look at your face. he was looking at his watch. "we have less than ten minutes to get to the conference room."
the casual nonchalance of his tone made your stomach turn. you scrambled off the table, your legs shaking so violently that your heels nearly buckled the moment they hit the concrete floor. you immediately turned your back to him, your hands trembling as you tucked your blouse back into your waistband, smoothing down the wrinkled fabric of your skirt with silly, panicked movements. the sticky reality of what he had just left inside you was a burning weight between your thighs, but you obliged yourself to not think about it, desperately trying to swallow the thick lump of shame and yearning clogging your throat.
he's doing it again, you thought, your chest aching with raw turmoil. he just used me to vent a month of frustration, and now he's putting the mask back on.
when you forced yourself to turn around, the illusion was almost perfect. jungwon had donned his jacket, straightened his collar, and run a hand through his hair to guide it back into its immaculate style. once more, you could have convinced yourself it all had been a hallucination.
he picked up the scattered presentation slides from the floor, tapping the edge of the papers against the table to align them perfectly. "the data layout looks completely standard now." he said, his voice sliding effortlessly back into that tone he used for the board of directors. he extended the stack of papers toward you, his hand perfectly steady. "make sure you hand these to the department head as soon as we walk in."
you took the papers, your fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second. you expected him to pull away, expected the ice — but his fingers tightened subtly over yours, pinning the pages between you for one agonizing heartbeat.
his eyes locked onto yours, pitch black and harboring a quiet promise that completely contradicted his polite posture. i'm not finished with you, his gaze whispered, loud and clear, before he smoothly let go.
"let's go." jungwon said, offering you a polite nod as he turned toward the door. "we can't be late for the briefing."
he pushed the door open, stepping out into the hallway without a single backward glance. you stood alone in the archive room for one second longer, trying to steady your breath, before you stepped right out behind him — forced to walk into a crowded elevator and pretend your entire world hadn't just been ruined in the basement.
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the briefing passed in a blinding blur. you sat three chairs down from him at the long mahogany table, your knees locked tightly together, trying to focus on the projector screen while the slow warmth of what he had left inside you cooled against your thighs. jungwon was flawless. he pointed at the data slides with his silver pen, spoke in that bright, capable way the executives loved, and didn't look at you a single time.
that afternoon was the first brick laid in a structure that would systematically hollow you out over the next four weeks. the basement hadn't been a momentary break in his mask. instead, it became the blueprint for a toxic routine that established itself entirely through the company's internal server. neither of you ever spoke a word about it out loud. there were no late night texts, no lingering looks, and absolutely no acknowledgment of the ruin you shared. jungwon kept the boundary line thick and visible, and you, out of a desperate need to save your own pride, matched his stride.
you learned to read the language of his casual invitations. it always started with a generic email notification flashing on your monitor. the subject lines were always pristine, completely invisible to anyone else — archival cross-reference, logistics ledger review, updated q3 formatting. but the timing was calculated with a terrifying precision. it was always 7:15 am, before the front desk receptionist clocked in, or 8:30 pm, when the main floor lights auto dimmed and the cleaning crew was still three levels above.
the locations shifted, but the suffocating friction remained the same. a vacant corporate lounge on the 14th floor, a narrow supply vault behind the server racks, the deep corner of a private office after the blinds were twisted shut against the city.
and every single time, the pattern was a torturous loop. you would walk into the designated room with your jaw clenched, your heart hammering an angry rhythm, determined to prove you were just as detached as he was. jungwon would be waiting, looking immaculate, his expression completely blank as he gave you some casual instruction. you would pretend you didn't care. he would pretend he didn't care.
then, the air would stall. the forced nonchalance would burn away into that unhinged intensity, and he would drag you against a desk or pin you against a wall. he was filthy in the dark, whispering things that made your blood boil with a sickening mix of shame and desperate desire. he would take everything your body pathetically yearned for, running the clock down to the absolute last second.
and the exact heartbeat his release was over, the ice returned.
he would slide out of you, fix his trousers, and adjust his silk tie without saying a single word. by the time you stepped back out into the hallway, he would already be five paces ahead of you, his hands slid carelessly into his pockets, ready to greet a manager with a charming nod.
that was the part that was slowly driving you insane — the terrifying precision of his dual reality, and the rotting hurt it left in your chest.
during the day, you had to sit at your desk and watch him play the department's golden boy. you watched him lean over the reception desk, giving the new girls that fake sweet look that made them stammer. you heard all the gossip about who he did or did not fuck. to the rest of the world, he was pristine. you were nothing special to him, just a hidden variable in his daily schedule, a convenient way to vent his corporate frustration because you were the only one who didn't look at him like that.
you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to slap the casual, empty smile right off his face in the morning briefings. you wanted to ask him if you were just a tool, if he even remembered your name when he wasn't burying his face in your neck. but the rules of the game you had both entered meant you couldn't say a single word. to voice the hurt would mean admitting that his effortless shifts between the office prince and the private monster were breaking you. it would mean admitting that while he was just having a casual, physical release, you were drowning in him. if you showed a single crack in your composure, he would win. he would see your ruin, give you that polite nod, and walk away entirely. so you swallowed the pain until it tasted like acid, cementing your face into the same blank indifference he wore so well.
by the end of the month, your internal mess had stretched your nerves to a breaking point. the careless act was getting heavier, the unspoken friction between your cubicles turning into an icy wall that made the entire floor feel unsafe for you.
it was a thursday evening, the clock creeping just past 8:45 pm. the department was dead silent, the only sound the steady drumming of rain against the floor to ceiling glass windows.
your monitor flashed white in the darkened space:
From: Yang Jungwon
To: Y/N
Subject: Late Invoice Discrepancy
Please bring the physical Q3 budget folders to the archive room immediately for verification.
your fingers shook against the mouse. there was no discrepancy. he was just stressed from the executive board meeting he had endured that afternoon, and he wanted to use you to burn it off.
you slowly stood up, gathering the folders against your chest like a shield. your knees felt weak, your blood running thick with that familiar adrenaline as you walked down the darkened hallway toward the archive room.
through the glass partition, you could see his silhouette. jungwon had his jacket off, his white shirt slightly loosened at the collar, his hands slid into his trouser pockets. he looked completely composed, a picture of solitary corporate elegance. you pushed the door open, stepping into the room. the quiet click of the latch closing behind you sounded as a definitive thud in the silence.
jungwon didn't turn around. he let the quiet stretch between you, the casual indifference of his posture practically mocking the storm raging in your chest.
"close the door, y/n." he murmured smoothly, his side profile showing the faint ghost of a smirk. "and lock it."
you didn't move. the plastic folders were cold against your chest, a brittle barrier between your hammering heart and the quiet expanse of the room. your thumb hovered near the edge of the first tab, freezing. for a whole month, your hand would have already reached backward, blindly finding the lock, twisting it shut without a second thought because the pathetic craving inside you always won. but today, the ache in your throat felt heavier than any other ache.
"i said," jungwon murmured, his tone dropping just a fraction, the smooth corporate tone beginning to fray at the edges as he slowly turned his head to look at you. "lock the door."
he was waiting for you to fold. he was waiting for the familiar routine to click into place — the cold glances, the sudden slam against the wall, the filthy whispers that would temporarily numb the hollow feeling in your chest. he looked so infuriatingly untouched, standing there with his sleeves rolled up, entirely confident that you would slide right into your designated role in his schedule.
"no." you said. the word was small, barely a whisper against the relentless drumming of the rain outside, but it felt like a gunshot in the dead silence of the room.
jungwon's brows twitched, his head turning fully toward you now. his hands stayed in his pockets, his posture still maintaining that unbothered stance, but his dark eyes sharpened, tracking the slight tremor in your shoulders. "what?"
"i'm not locking it." you said, your voice growing steadier, though the raw edge of it was impossible to hide now. you walked forward, but you didn't stop close to him. you slammed the folders down on the edge of the table, the loud smack echoing off the metal shelves. "the metrics are on page twelve. if there's a discrepancy, find it yourself. i'm leaving."
you turned on your heel, your chest burning, ready to walk out before the humiliation of your own tears could fully expose you. but jungwon was faster. the casual nonchalance vanished in a heartbeat. his hand shot out of his pocket, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a bruising grip that pulled you back into his space. the expensive scent of his cologne crowded your senses instantly, a suffocating reminder of every single desk, wall, and floor he had claimed you on over the last four weeks.
"what is this?" he growled, his voice dropping into that venomous rasp, his face mere inches from yours. his pupils were blown, the feral frustration finally breaking through his mask. "you don't get to just walk out, y/n. you received the email. you came down here. don't start playing games now."
"i'm not playing games, jungwon!" you choked out, the resentment finally fracturing your voice as you tried to remove your wrist from his grip. he didn't budge. his fingers only tightened, pinning you against his chest until you could feel the furious thudding of his own heart. "i'm done. i can't do this anymore."
"can't do what?" he muttered, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his breathing turning shallow as he leaned in closer. his hips subtly pressed forward, trying to force your body into the familiar, addictive submission it always succumbed to. "you want this just as badly as i do. you're shaking right now. let me lock the door and-"
"no!" a hot tear finally spilled over your eyelashes, tracing a humiliating path down your cheek, and the sight of it made jungwon instantly freeze. the walls you had spent a month building were completely crumbling into dust right in front of him. "i can't keep pretending. i can't watch you smile at the interns in the morning, listen to them talk about who you went home with on friday, and then come down here in the dark just so you can use me to burn off your stress."
jungwon's jaw locked, the muscle pulsing under his skin. his grip on your wrist didn't slacken, but he stopped pushing into you, his dark eyes staring down at your face with a jarring intensity that looked almost like panic.
"it's ruining me." you whispered, your voice cracking completely, the raw truth tasting like ash on your tongue. "you get to slide right back into your perfect little suit and walk away like nothing happened, and i'm left sitting at my desk feeling entirely hollowed out. if it's just a casual release for you, fine. find someone else. because it's breaking me, and i'm not going to let you do it anymore."
the silence that followed was suffocating, full with the rules you had just permanently shattered. jungwon didn't move. he just stared at you, his chest heaving. for a fraction of a second, he looked genuinely caught off guard, but then, the tension in his jaw completely vanished. the momentary panic in his dark eyes melted away, replaced by a calculating amusement that made your stomach drop.
jungwon let out a low chuckle. he didn't pull you in aggressively. instead, his grip on your wrist softened, his thumb slowly stroking over the hammering rhythm of your pulse.
"ruining you." he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue with a terrifyingly casual drawl. his gaze dropped from your tear stained eyes down to your chest, watching the way you were desperately trying to catch your breath. "you're acting like i'm dragging you down here against your will, y/n. but we both know that's a lie."
"jungwon-" you tried to step back, but his hand slid smoothly from your wrist to your hip, his long fingers completely encompassing the curve of your waist, holding you in place effortlessly.
"you hate that i smile at the interns? you hate that i don't look at you in the boardroom?" he murmured, leaning in until his lips were hovering just an inch from your ear. his suffocating scent wrapped around you like a vice. "that's just your pride talking, because your body tells a completely different story. you say this is breaking you, but you're shaking so hard you can barely stand. i haven't even touched you properly yet, and you're already completely soaked for me, aren't you?"
a hot, humiliating flush spread across your neck. you wanted to deny it, wanted to push him and scream that he was wrong, but your core was already pulsing with that familiar heat, reacting to the sheer proximity of his body just like a trained animal.
"i'm just giving you exactly what you need." he whispered nonchalantly. "because we both know you sit at that desk all day, completely distracted, crossing your legs trying to chase the friction. you need me to pull you into these dark rooms. you need me to use you like this, because nobody else is ever going to fuck you the way i do."
he took a deliberate step back, creating a cold space between you. he slid his hands back into his trouser pockets, his expression returning to that untouchable corporate mask. "so go." jungwon said smoothly, gesturing toward the metal door with a slight tilt of his head. "walk out, go home. but when you're lying in bed tonight, completely unsatisfied, touching yourself to the memory of what i did to you on this exact desk last tuesday... don't send me an email tomorrow begging me to fix it. because if you walk out that door right now, i'm never touching you again."
the silence in the archive room became deafening. you stared at him, fresh tears stinging your eyes, your mind screaming at you to run. he was so utterly callous. he was stripping away every last ounce of your dignity, reducing all your emotional bleeding into a basic, pathetic physical craving. he was gaslighting you, offering you an out that he fully knew you were too weak to take.
because he was right. the thought of going home, of the cold sheets, of never feeling his heavy frame press you into a desk or hearing that rasp against your neck ever again, felt physically agonizing. the addiction was already too deep in your veins. you couldn't survive the withdrawal.
a pathetic sound caught in your throat. the fight completely drained out of your muscles, the resentment suffocated by that toxic yearning.
you didn't say a word. you just turned around, your legs feeling extremely weak, and walked toward the door. you didn't open the handle. instead, your trembling fingers reached out, blindly finding the deadbolt, and twisted it until the familiar click echoed through the room.
behind you, jungwon let out a satisfied sigh.
"good girl." he murmured, the sharp metallic sound of his belt buckle clicking open signaling the absolute end of your resistance. "now get over here and hike that skirt up."
genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, university-ish au
word count: 23.0k
warnings: smut (mndi), swearing, alcohol consumption, post graduation existentialism, the horrors of the modern job market, jealousy, insecurity, itty bitty age gap (reader is one year older), he’s obsessed he’s possessive he’s jealous but in a very jungwon way
note: I in fact did not keep it under 20k #oops. But I had lots of you in my comments and inbox telling me that you prefer longer fics anyway, so I hope you enjoy all 23k words of jungwon who years and pines over his childhood bestie <3
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
One year your junior and a constant fixture in your life since before you lost your baby teeth, Yang Jungwon has always existed in a category of his own. You don’t see him as a brother, but you don’t see him as a man. He’s just… Jungwon. Steady, reliable, consistent Jungwon who’s always there when you need him.
It’s why you feel comfortable admitting to him the latest addition to your list of post-graduation anxieties: dating. Namely, the fact that no matter what you try, you just can’t seem to make it work. To make a connection stick. But Jungwon, despite all of his typical predictability, doesn’t take your complaints quite the way you expect him to.
or, you tell Jungwon that you think boys just don’t like you and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything quite so ridiculous.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
If you look at it from a distance and squint, there really isn’t anything wrong with Park Sunghoon.
In fact, if anything, he might be a little bit out of your league. With full lips, an easy smile, and long, dark hair that dusts over the angular planes of his cheekbones, he’s a sight for sore eyes. Especially since they are rather sore. Your eyes, that is.
You’ve spent the last week fine tuning your resume for all thirty-six job applications you fired off with crossed fingers and a silent prayer. Your daily screen time is reaching dangerous levels, and you doubt the blue light blocking glasses you picked up from the dollar store are doing much to mitigate the effects of it.
Life post-graduation has been like this, more or less. Six months ago, officially earning your university diploma felt like victory, like the end of a hard earned battle.
But now, you aren’t so sure. Not when the last one hundred eighty days have been nearly identical copies of monotonous despair, one rejected job application after another.
A cover letter here, a mission statement there, a detailed history of your personal opinion on the role of social media in modern society — that one had been for a marketing gig that you weren’t even interested in, not if the advertised salary were as low as the posting claimed. But at this point, you were starting to get desperate.
And still, it’s all been to no avail. Rejection after rejection. Ghosting after ghosting. Ridiculous, you think. These are hiring departments after all, not some frat boy you hooked up with last Friday after one too many shots of tequila. All your effort surely warrants at the very least a response.
But forty-seven of the eighty-nine jobs you’ve applied to in the last month seem to disagree.
And it’s not like you hate the part time gig you picked up at the flower shop a few blocks away from your apartment, but you didn’t work your ass off for four years, earning your degree in a specialized field, just to spend the rest of your life explaining the differences between roses and dahlias to men that piss off their girlfriends.
It’s disheartening, to say the least. Demoralizing. A rinse and repeat cycle that becomes more exhausting with each passing day, each unreturned email.
Most days, you feel a little bit like a shell of yourself. Hollowed from the inside out, just waiting for a scrap of decent news.
It’s why you only said no three times when Sophia suggested that maybe you break up the monotony with a little good, old-fashioned romance.
And not just romance. Dating, blind dating, because she swore the mystery of it all would make it more fun.
The first three times she suggested it, you waved her off easily with some half-witted excuse and a roll of your eyes.
But the fourth time, your friend caught you in a weak spot.
“Come on,” she’d insisted over an overpriced latte. She didn’t mind shelling out for a soy milk substitute, even. She was one of the lucky ones that managed to line up a job immediately after graduation, one she got from the third-year internship she had.
So Sophia had her big girl job and her big girl salary. You, on the other hand, were wincing at the bitter taste of drip coffee straight from the machine.
“I don’t know…” You’d trailed off, unsure. That morning, you’d received a rejection notice from a company you were genuinely excited about. The position matched your qualifications and professional interests to a T. You weren’t one to make premature bets, but when you clicked submit on the official application three weeks prior, part of you had felt like it was fate. A sure thing.
The email this morning proved you wrong.
Dear Candidate, it had started. Because of course, even after all the time you spent tailoring your resume to their standards, you weren’t even worth the effort of typing your name.
Thank you for your interest in joining our team. We regret to inform you that we have decided to move forward with other candidates at this time. If, in the future, other positions become available, please do not hesitate to apply again.
Rejection wasn’t anything new at this point, but this one stung. It felt personal.
You were tired of constantly hearing no, of always having every path blocked the second you worked up the courage to venture down it. You were desperate for something to take your mind off of it all.
You wanted to do something fun. And more than that, you needed a reminder that you weren’t a failure. That at least in some capacity, your time and your presence and your efforts were worth something.
If the only available context for that was a date, even a blind one, so be it.
“It’ll be fun,” Sophia insisted. “I promise. Besides, the guy I have in mind is really cool. He’s been at my company for a couple of years now, and he’s really friendly, even to the new hires. Comes off a little cold at first maybe, but I think he’s just a little shy. You’d like him.”
You still weren’t sold. You took another long sip of black coffee and winced at the taste of burnt beans.
“What was his name again?” you asked.
Sophia grinned, knowing she’d finally won. “Sunghoon,” she told you, smile entirely too smug for your liking. “Park Sunghoon.”
Now, a week later, you can’t help but curse yourself for caving. After all, blind dates are a far cry from romance, and the only thing that your time with Sunghoon is doing, lovely as he may be, is giving you a different source for your headaches.
Across from you, Sunghoon takes a slow sip of red wine. His eyes stay where they should. You can at least appreciate that Sophia didn’t set you up with a total sleaze. If anything, you think he looks a bit unsure when he meets your gaze.
After another moment of stilted silence, he asks, “What do you like to do for fun?” You watch as Sunghoon swirls his half full glass before setting it back down on the table. Aerating it, probably. He strikes you as the kind of person that isn’t entirely bullshitting when they say they know their wines.
It’s a perfectly normal question, run-of-the-mill for a first date. And yet, your mind can’t seem to do anything but come up completely blank.
What do you like to do for fun? Even privately, you're beginning to wonder. It’s as if the job search has taken any joy you used to find in your free time and turned it into existential dread.
You like to go for walks, but it’s been extra rainy these days and you hate how the late autumn air makes your skin feel sticky after just a few minutes. Not to mention the end of season mosquitoes. You swear they’re bigger than any other time of year.
You like to read, but the last time you opened a book for pleasure was half a year ago. You’re pretty sure that same exact novel is still sitting half-finished beneath your bedside table.
Cooking is nice for stress relief, you suppose, but your meals are more for function than show. You doubt Sunghoon wants to hear about the frozen spinach you sautéed last night.
You have been catching up on the latest season of a ridiculously staged reality TV show lately, but you can hardly own up to that. If an hour’s worth of catty drama and hair pulling every Sunday night is the first hobby you think of, Sunghoon will no doubt think you’re the most vapid person he’s ever met.
So instead you say, “Oh, you know.” You try a laugh, hoping it will make you seem easy going instead of cagey. “Things.”
Sunghoon just arches a brow. He doesn’t know. That’s why he asked.
And it’s not like it’s a crime to be awkward on first dates, but you’re starting to feel like you’d be given a life sentence without parole if it was.
Desperate to get his gaze off of you, you return the question. “What about you?”
Maybe the universe will spare you and Sunghoon will be equally bad at condensing his life into bite-sized pieces easily digestible on first dates. Maybe his good luck starts and ends with his face and he’ll be equally tight-lipped about his own interests.
But then, after a pause to gather his thoughts, he starts talking. Your hope for equal footing starts to circle the drain with more urgency.
“I’ve been really into exercising lately,” he tells you. “I grew up figure skating, so it’s been nice to get back to doing something more physical. It’s been great, too, trying out some new protein-focused recipes and getting out for runs when the weather allows it. I really miss the ice, but it just isn’t feasible with work and everything else these days. It’s been fun to try out some new hobbies that are somewhat similar.”
“Oh,” you flounder for a moment. It’s truly pathetic, you think. Maybe talking about yourself is difficult, but how are you so unable to even respond to his answers? “That’s nice.”
Sunghoon, to both his credit and Sophia’s, really does seem to be a nice guy. He’s trying. Doing his best to keep the conversation going.
“Do you like to exercise?” he asks.
You wonder distantly if following a YouTube video at home on yoga for stress relief once in a while counts.
Deciding it doesn’t, at least not to a former figure skater, you shrug. “Not really.”
“Oh,” he nods. After a moment of awkward silence, he asks, “What do you think about the wine?”
It’s a simple question, an easy question, but it’s hard to get momentum once you’ve lost it. To you, this date already feels a bit like a sinking ship and even a question as simple as this feels like a test you’ll inevitably fail.
“It’s nice,” you say. “Goes well with the food.” And unfortunately does very little to soothe your frayed nerves.
“I agree,” Sunghoon nods. “Apparently it’s made from grapes grown in a specific region of southern France. They get more sunlight than the average vineyard, and the soil is fertilized in some special way that makes the flavor more intense.”
He smiles at you, and it’s objectively gorgeous. The kind of look that you feel like you should be fawning over, that you should go home dreaming about.
Park Sunghoon is the kind of guy that feels made for fantasies. Thinking about it now, you’re not really sure how he could even be single, or how Sophia managed to convince him to see you tonight.
But no matter how long you wait for the butterflies to come, they just… don’t.
It’s not because you don’t like him, but the idea of getting to know him, of letting him get to know you, is suddenly exhausting.
You’re afraid that whatever parts of yourself you reveal will come up short, will inevitably be found lacking. Your hobbies aren’t interesting enough for a guy like him. You’re not particularly well-traveled or well-read, and you did well in your degree but not enough for it to be part of a dinner conversation.
You just… you don’t feel interesting. Not in the kind of way that guys like him are attracted to. So when you go home after another half hour of stilted conversation and too-long lulls of silence, you’re not daydreaming about his smile or his dimples or the second date he definitely won’t ask you on.
Instead, you wait until you’re out of eyesight to let the smile you’ve been keeping plastered to your lips fall from your face.
Looking out at the sky, the sun that’s beginning to set on the horizon doesn’t feel like an omen or a fresh start. It just feels like a sunset. The end of another day full of nothing special. Unremarkable. Ordinary.
You’re not giddy or excited or particularly moved at all. You’re not angry either, though. Not disappointed. If anything, you feel a strange sense of hollowness, one with a glare that’s especially apparent under the street lights that are just beginning to glow.
You miss the days when things felt exciting, when you would meet the eye of someone cute across a lecture hall and go home daydreaming about it. Spinning around your room, kicking your feet like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It’s not Sophia’s fault. It’s not even Park Sunghoon’s. But when you finally get back home to your apartment and flick on the lights of your empty bedroom, all you do is sigh.
…..
You thought that when you walked across your university stage six long months ago and were officially given your diploma, you’d be done drowning your post-midterm stress with cheap beer.
But you forgot to account for one small detail — Jungwon.
You suppose your friendship with him might look a little strange from the outside, but he’s been a constant in your life since before you even knew how to tie your own shoes.
Like most childhood friendships, it wasn’t forged of your own volition. Your mother decided the summer before you started kindergarten that her new favorite hobby was going to be gardening. Which was fine and all, except for the fact that she knew literally nothing about gardening and had killed just about every houseplant she ever owned.
To her credit, she tried. She asked the kind elderly lady working the till at the garden supply store for advice and bought the overpriced gloves and trowel she suggested. She scoured blogs and Wikipedia articles and online forums for all the best and latest in flower cultivation.
But your mother simply did not have a green thumb, and after months of watching from her window in silent pity, Mrs. Yang decided to do something about it.
She took one look at your mother’s wilted tiger lilies and sighed. Gently, because even in her exasperation she managed to be kind, a trait she passed onto her son.
You weren’t so interested in whatever she told your mom about fertilizer and shearing, though. Nor were you really interested in the garden at all.
But you did find the boy currently hiding behind Mrs. Yang’s practical work pants far more fascinating than anything you’d seen in months.
Before school started, finding another kid your age was like striking gold. An only child, you were doted on by your parents but only rarely had the opportunity to play with other kids. This one, even if he was determined to hide out of sight, felt like a gift, a friend you were determined to make yours.
Back then, he was a shy kid.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing from his mother, but he finally found the courage to meet your eye. To come out from his hiding spot and introduce himself.
Jungwon, he said his name was, and you gave him yours in return.
You asked about his birthday and could hardly contain the smug smile that spread across your lips when you realized he was younger than you. A whole ten months. Practically a baby. Nowhere near ready to start kindergarten, like you were. He’d have to wait a whole nother year.
Other than the bragging rights it afforded you, you didn’t mind so much.
That summer, Mrs. Yang helped your mother turn her misshapen, weed-addled, overgrown mess of a flower bed into something truly beautiful.
And nearly every time she came over, she brought Jungwon in tow. The two of you weren’t trusted to wander far yet, but he made your afternoons far more interesting, even under the watchful gaze of your mothers.
He was excited about the same things you were — searching for bugs in the flower bed, digging in the dirt with the plastic shovel set you’d been given for your last birthday, and building homes for the fairies you convinced him really existed using fallen leaves and twigs.
Your friendship might have begun as one of convenience, but the long, sunny afternoons you spent together ensured that none of it was forced.
Your mothers were thrilled too. Both of you were overly curious only children, and it was nice to have your attention occupied elsewhere, to share private smiles at how sweet your little friendship was becoming.
They sighed when you came back from an afternoon of playing with dirt smudged across your clothes and cheeks and cooed when you fell asleep after washing up, sprawled out across your living room floor with pillows you’d pulled off the couch.
Even though you’d been anticipating it for months, the beginning of kindergarten was something you started to dread. And the further you got in your academic journey, the one-year gap between you started to feel less like victory and more like a curse.
You still remember the failed math quiz you brought home from second grade one afternoon, a big, red F written across the top even though you were usually excellent with times tables.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing, but your mother finally got the truth from you. How you were thinking that if you managed to do poorly enough to fail the second grade, you could just do it again next year. With Jungwon.
Of course she explained to you how terrible of an idea it was, and you didn’t try it again, but for the next few months, every aced exam still felt a little bit like defeat.
Until the seventh-grade, that is, when you decided to fully embrace your role as his elder.
Jungwon was just starting middle school, after all. He was brand new to the world of lockers and passing periods and so much axe body spray it seemed to permanently hover outside the boy’s locker room like a rain cloud.
You made him pinky promise you not to buy any, and all he did was scrunch his nose in distaste, insisting that he never would, that he didn’t like strong smells anyway.
Jungwon might have been new to it all, but you, however, had already been this whole middle school thing for a year. You were one year older and wiser and could help him navigate all of the pitfalls with your hard earned expertise.
You thought it was the best idea ever, an example of your commendable generosity and kindness, until one Wednesday afternoon proved you entirely wrong.
You were hovering just behind him as he worked through his locker combination, weight shifted to one hip as you balanced your science textbook against the other.
Still a couple inches taller than him thanks to the growth spurt that had hit you early, you didn’t have to crane your neck too hard to see over his shoulder. To provide any assistance he might need.
Finally, after getting the combination right, his locker clicked open.
Jungwon sighed. Glancing back at you, he mumbled, “Why are you here? Don’t you have science right now?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to the textbook in your hands. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for you.”
“I have math next,” he pointed out, as if you didn’t already know. As if you didn’t have his schedule memorized before he did. “Which is in the opposite direction. Just go. You don’t want to be late again.”
It’s true. You don’t. Your mom said she’d shave an hour off of your allotted Saturday cartoon-watching time if it happened again.
But it was okay. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make. You told him as much.
“That’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Mr. Lee usually isn’t too strict about tardies, so—“
“Just go,” he interrupted, back still turned to you. This time, his voice was sharper than usual. It cut through the air like an accusation, leaving you more than a little shocked. “You don’t have to follow me around everywhere.”
You frowned at that. But still, you thought that maybe he was just worried about you, about whatever punishment your mother had promised. So, to ease his worries, you insisted, “I don’t mind. I’m a year older, so I should—“
“Ten months,” he corrected, voice like ice. And he still wouldn’t look at you. “You’re ten months older.”
Your frown deepened. “Thats the same thing.”
“No it’s not,” Jungwon shook his head, voice rising. His anger, his annoyance, were apparent now. “Stop treating me like a baby.”
“I don’t—” You tried to protest.
But he wasn’t having it. “You do.” He insisted. “You treat me like I’m a little kid and it’s driving me insane. The other boys on the taekwondo team think so, too. They’re starting to say things—“
“What kinds of things? Who?” It didn’t matter if he was angry or annoyed at you. As far as you were concerned, if anyone was giving Jungwon a hard time, it was your business too. You didn’t know the boys on the taekwondo team very well, but you were suddenly feeling very violent, a bad idea given that the boys in question were trained in martial arts and you’d spent no time on a training mat in all twelve years of your life.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jungwon shook his head. He still wouldn't turn around and look at you. “Just leave me alone.”
You’d had fights before. Little tiffs that started nearly the same day you’d met. But they were always small, just bouts of bickering that may have left you pouting but never with any truly hurt feelings.
This was different. This… this stung.
Just like the tears that started to gather against your lash line without your permission, pressing dangerously against the inner corner of your eyes.
Still, you couldn’t help but ask, a little pathetically, “You don’t want me to walk with you?”
“I don’t need you to follow me around everywhere,” he repeated, crueler than he had to be, “fussing over me like you’re my mom or something.”
“Fine,” was all you said. Suddenly, you were grateful that he wouldn’t look at you. If he saw how affected you were, that you were on the verge of crying, it would be more humiliating than you could handle. “Just walk by yourself then.”
Turning, you only paused once you were a few steps away. “And here,” you’d reached into your pockets, pulling out the coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper earlier this week, the surprise you were planning to show him after school. “You can just have these. Give them to your taekwondo friends, since you care what they think so much.”
Jungwon waited until you were around the corner to turn around, to see what you’d thrown at his feet. Bending, he picked them up, guilt swirling deep in his gut as he tucked the coupons for half price ice cream from the nearby shop, the one that you knew always had his favorite flavor, into his pocket.
You didn’t talk to Jungwon for a week.
You were late to class that day, partly because of Jungwon and partly because you had to spend the next ten minutes calming down in the bathroom stall while you wiped evidence of your tears away.
True to her word, your mom didn’t let you watch cartoons Saturday morning. And you spent all your extra time thinking about where exactly you went so wrong.
The silent treatment didn’t last long. You and Jungwon were like that — you’d spent so much time together that you’d learned how to get over things quickly.
Grudges never held for long, and time didn't need to pass too far for both of you to forget what you were mad about in the first place.
But this time, even after the dust had settled, things between you didn’t go entirely back to normal. For starters, you didn’t wait for him by his locker anymore, didn’t offer to walk him to math or science or P.E. or any of his other classes.
Even though the two of you shared a school, the only time you really saw him anymore was on the bus ride home. And that was only on the days he didn’t have taekwondo practice.
But with Jungwon, things had a way of coming back around. It wasn’t long before he was seeking you out intentionally again, before your friendship felt less like walking on eggshells and more like something comfortable.
But you had learned two valuable lessons that day by his locker.
One, Jungwon was sensitive. More so than you ever realized. In ways you didn’t always fully understand.
And two, the gap between your ages may have been small, but he really, truly resented any attention you brought to it. In his own words, he hated it when you made him feel like a kid.
So you learned. You adjusted. And by the time high school came around, you were practically a pro at ignoring the ten months that separated you.
There were still times that you wanted to guide him, to help him, but you did your best to hold yourself back. You tried to empathize, too. To see things from his point of view. It made sense, you supposed. Jungwon didn’t want a second mother. He just wanted a friend.
One that wouldn’t dote on him too much or smother him or embarrass him in front of his teammates. That’s not to say he didn’t use your age to his advantage on occasion, though.
When you got your driver’s license a whole year before him, he wasn’t shy about asking for rides. And when junior year chemistry proved to be harder than he thought, he accepted your journal full of meticulously taken notes with little more than a sigh of relief.
You didn’t mind so much. Besides, it wasn’t like you were the only generous one in your relationship. Friendship with Jungwon never felt like a burden, never felt like a debt to settle.
For all of your age-afforded privileges, he more than made up for them just by being there. Because Jungwon grew up in the way few boys do—he learned to observe, to listen before he spoke. To treat words like something precious and use them only when he really meant them.
Jungwon was your confidant, your most trusted source of advice. You went to him with things that you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone else, and he received it all with open arms and a thoughtful furrow of his brow.
Jungwon wasn’t the type to pass judgment. He just listened, contemplated, and then gave the best, most logical answer he could think of.
He talked you down from your spiral of self-hate after you convinced yourself a failed physics test was the end of your life junior year and helped you analyze the pros and cons of your top university choices when your high school graduation date started approaching with alarming speed.
Affection came easy between the two of you, because it didn’t feel complicated. It felt natural, just like the day he introduced himself amongst the ruins of your mother’s failed garden.
So when you told him, senior year, that you agreed with his advice, that you had decided to attend university in your hometown, a mere thirty-minute drive from the high school you were graduating from, all he did was smile.
He hugged you after you accepted your diploma from your principal and handed you a bouquet of flowers. He complained about having to stick around in high school for another year, and you assured him that senior year was different from the others. It was better.
Your year apart was difficult, but it also gave you space for things you hadn’t considered before. Things like other friends. You met Sophia at freshman orientation, and the two of you became inseparable.
You still saw Jungwon, of course. Weekends, holidays, and even the occasional weeknight dinner meant he was still very much a part of your life. And when you couldn’t meet in person, you talked. Texted. Called.
Which is exactly how you broke the news of your first ever boyfriend.
There had been crushes in high school, but they were fleeting. Insignificant. This was different. Jay was different, and just as you always had, you spared Jungwon none of the gory details.
You told him all about the flowers he bought you, all about how romantic it was when he asked you on a proper date. How sweet it was when he picked you up and opened the passenger door of his car for you and how special you felt when he picked up the dinner check without so much as a sideways glance at you.
But Jungwon, steady, reliable Jungwon, seemed to become uncharacteristically terse whenever Jay came up. His texts got shorter, his responses further and fewer between.
The calls that used to drag on for hours started ending suddenly whenever you brought up your boyfriend. Jungwon always had an excuse ready—he had homework to do or a project to finish or an errand to run for his mom.
But you’d have to be stupid not to notice the common denominator in it all. Jay.
For a while, the choice was easy. Jay was here, with you. He wanted your attention and your time. He liked hearing about your day and telling you about his and spending as much time with you as your schedules allowed.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was becoming more difficult to reach the longer your relationship went on.
Slowly, but steadily, Jay started to become the person you went to for advice. The contact name you searched for whenever you had something to say. The boy you spent your weekends with, making new memories, laughing about nothing.
You trusted him. You were new to it, the feelings, the rush of it all, but after a few months, you were pretty sure you loved him.
Jay was your first relationship, your first real boyfriend, and eventually, the person you trusted enough to lose your virginity to.
Which made it all the more devastating when he told you, sometime in the middle of spring semester, that he didn’t want to see you anymore. That he enjoyed your time together, but he didn’t feel the same spark you did. The same level of connection.
You cried until you were numb, and you were numb until one by one, your feelings started to come back in overwhelming waves. And every time they did, the only person you really wanted to see was your best friend.
The boy you barely even spoke to anymore.
You weren’t sure if he would even answer, the night you drove all the way to his house in the pouring rain. You stood there on his porch, pathetic, soaked from just the short walk from your car, when he opened the door and found you like that.
“Jungwon,” you breathed.
He hadn’t said anything, just pulled you inside. Checked the warmth of his shower until it was the perfect temperature and left a towel and a clean pair of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. Waited outside, on the edge of his bed until you emerged twenty minutes later.
Clean, dry, but with eyes so red he knew you must have been crying.
He didn’t ask you what happened. He just scooted back until he was sitting against his pillows, patted the space next to him in invitation. Pulled you tight to his chest as you sobbed, long heartbreaking sounds that tore from somewhere deep in you.
You eventually told him everything—your breakup, your heartbreak, the sudden loneliness it had left in its wake.
Jungwon just held you through it, wiping your tears and soothing your cries as you laid against his chest.
And you talked. For hours, about nothing, about everything. All the little things you hadn’t been able to tell him for months, all the parts of your life that you’d wished you could share with him.
As it turns out, you’d missed important updates from his life, too. For starters, he’d chosen a university. The same one you were currently attending. You were so excited that you’d be together again, but part of you hated it, the way you’d missed out on such important news.
That night, things shifted again. It didn’t matter what your relationship status was or what distance separated you—the two of you promised not to ever go so long without talking again.
The following September, Jungwon officially started university at the same school as you, and it was the most excited you’d been in months. You loved showing him around all of your favorite places, pointing out the secret study spots you’d found in the library, introducing him to all of your friends and the coffee shop you loved just off campus.
It felt natural, felt right to have him in your life again. Even when things got busy, when you were so bogged down with assignments and projects and internships, you did your best to make time for one another.
You didn’t date again, and if he did, you never heard about it. When friends asked, you always gave the same excuse. You were too busy. You were focusing on yourself. School was more important to you than a relationship right now.
But if you were honest with yourself, your relationship with Jay had left you with a unique set of scars. You were scared of falling in love again only to be met with rejection, of course, but you were also terrified of losing Jungwon. Of the way letting someone new into your life could mean pushing him away, despite what you’d promised each other that night in his bed.
It’s why you haven’t mentioned Sunghoon to him yet. It’s not a secret, exactly, but it’s also not something you’re dying to share.
Now that you’ve graduated, you can hardly believe you’re standing outside Jungwon’s apartment with a six pack of cheap beer dangling from your fingertips. But something about all of your recent failures has you desperate for a bit of release, and you’re sure he could use some relaxation after midterms, too.
If anything, you’re hoping it will come as a nice surprise.
You knock on the door to his apartment, beer dangling loosely from your other hand. But when the door pulls open, it’s not Jungwon who greets you on the other side.
“Hi,” Jake grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Long time no see.” Jungwon’s roommate of two years now, he glances down at the beer. “And you brought presents.”
“Not for you, Sim,” you shake your head. “Is Jungwon home?”
“Depends.” Jake grins. “Are you just gonna leave if he’s not?”
You sigh, do your best not to roll your eyes. You’ve been subject to Jake’s antics long enough to know not to take any of it to heart. A golden retriever in every sense of the word, flirting comes as natural to him as breathing.
You’d be more worried if he suddenly started talking to you like a normal person.
“Can you tell me when he’ll be back?” You really should have checked to make sure Jungwon was home before driving all the way, but you’d only decided to come last minute. Besides, you remember what midterms were like. You wanted it to be a surprise.
“What’s the rush?” Jake asks. When you don’t bother to dignify that with a response, he pivots, “What are you up to these days?”
“Just working,” you shrug.
“Yeah?” he asks. “How’s post grad life treating you? Is the grass really greener after graduation?” Like Jungwon, he’s still a semester and a half away from it.
You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “Something like that.”
“You’re still working at that flower shop over in your area, right? I was over there the other day, and I almost stopped by to say hi, but I couldn’t remember for sure. Is it—”
“I thought you said you were on your way out,” a voice interrupts from behind him. Jungwon’s. You’d know it anywhere. “Who are you talking to?”
That little shit. He lied to you. Or at least heavily implied it.
Jake at least has the decency to look sheepish when he glances at you. Opening the door wider, he reveals your best friend. Dressed in a pair of grey sweats and an oversized long sleeve white t-shirt, his hair is still slightly damp. Recently showered, if you had to guess.
“Surprise,” you grin weakly, holding up the pack of beer.
“___,” he breathes your name, surprise flickering across his features. His gaze falls to your feet for a moment before dragging back up to your face. “What are you doing here?”
“Is it a bad time?” The beer falls back down to your side. You really should have checked with him first before driving all the way here. “Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not a bad time at all. Come in.” Side-eyeing Jake, he looks almost surprised to see him, as if he forgot he was even there. Then, he confirms, “You’re leaving, right?”
“Yep,” Jake nods, a trace of amusement flashing through his eyes. “I won’t be back until late.” He glances between the two of you. “Like, really late, probably. Enjoy… whatever this is.” Turning to you, he adds, “And it was good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
“Sure, Jake,” you agree. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he smiles. “Have fun.” Pausing for a moment, he considers, “Not too much fun, though—”
“Goodbye, Jake,” Jungwon interrupts, something unreadable crossing his features.
Jake takes the cue well enough. Stepping past the two of you, he leaves the apartment. The door closes behind him with a silent click.
And then it’s just you and Jungwon.
“You brought beer,” he reaches to take the drinks from you, passing them from your hand to his. “And yourself. What’s the occasion?”
“Midterms,” you explain. “I thought you could use a night off after all that studying. Besides, it’s been too long. The last time I saw you was when we got coffee, and that was already—”
“Two weeks ago,” he finishes for you. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to drink?” you ask, suddenly afraid you’ve placed your bets all wrong. Maybe midterms weren’t exhausting in the way that makes him want to drown his sorrows in cheap beer. Maybe they were just exhausting in the way that makes him want to crawl into bed. “I can come back a diff—”
Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s exactly what I need.” He smiles at you. It’s tired, but it’s genuine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
And that’s all it takes, all the reassurance you need to slip off your shoes and find a spot next to him on the living room sofa that’s seen better days.
It’s quiet at first, the two of you taking long sips as you ask the standard questions.
You ask how he thinks he did on midterms, and he says he’d rather talk about anything else.
He asks about your job search, and a shadow crosses your features as you also request a change in topic.
One bottle turns to two, and before long, your limbs are feeling heavier, your lips looser.
Jungwon looks at you, already flushed from the alcohol. He parts his reddened lips like he wants to say something. Closes them again.
Then, finally, “I heard something,” he says.
“Mm?” you hum. There’s a pleasant haze in your mind. One that makes it difficult to give much of a response at all.
A beat of silence passes. Another. You glance over at him, a question in your eyes, only to find his gaze already trained on your face.
Eventually, he gets it out. “You’re going on dates again.”
The tension in your shoulders is immediate. You’re not sure if he heard it from Sophia or somewhere else along the grapevine, but you suppose it doesn’t matter much either way. You shrug, feigning nonchalance. You have nothing to hide, you tell yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. “I went on one.”
Jungwon takes a long sip of beer, the foam settling heavy when he sets it back down on the table. “How was it?” he asks. His voice is infuriatingly neutral. You can’t get a read on him.
“I don’t know,” you shake your head. “Fine.”
Jungwon’s palm splays against his knee, flexes. “Are you seeing him again?”
You feel a humorless laugh rising in your throat, one you barely manage to contain. “Probably not.”
You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face when he asks, “Why?”
You sigh. This time, it’s you that takes a long sip of your drink. “I don’t know,” you shrug. Pulling your knees in towards your chest, you suddenly feel smaller than before. “It just wasn’t…” your words die as you try to find a way to explain the feeling you’d left the date with. Coming up blank, you decide instead on, “I don’t think he wants to see me again, anyway.”
You swear you feel a fraction of tension ease from the air. Still, Jungwon’s curiosity doesn’t seem to be sated. “Why not?” More to make you laugh than to actually guess at Sunghoon’s intentions, he asks, “Did you spill something on him?”
Wincing, you remember every one-word answer you gave. “I don’t think I spilled enough.”
Jungwon frowns, the turn of phrase not landing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Sometimes, I just…” You lean your head back, letting it loll against the back of the couch. “I just feel like boys don’t really like me, you know?”
If you were looking, you’d see the way Jungwon goes completely still. A moment of silence passes before he breaks it, voice lower, less airy than before. “What did you just say?”
Head against the couch, you let out a small sound, breathless, a little pathetic. “Don’t make me repeat it,” you beg.
But Jungwon isn’t quite ready to let it go. You see his silhouette in your periphery, turning to face you fully. Leaning in, his attention is on you and nowhere else. His voice has an edge to it that you aren’t quite sure what to do with when he asks, “What do you mean, ‘boys don’t like you?’”
All you can do is sigh again. “I’m just… I’m not really charming or cute or good at small talk and things like that. I always say something weird or put my foot in my mouth, and it’s like I can see them losing interest in real time.”
Jungwon blows a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. Glances at you. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Jungwon,” you deadpan, “he asked me what my hobbies are, and I told him, verbatim, things.”
“Oh.” He pauses for a minute. Then points out, “Well, to be fair, that’s a horrible question.”
You frown. “It’s a standard first date question.”
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees, “which is exactly why it’s horrible. No one wants to go on a first date and be asked all of the standard first date questions.”
You know that he’s only trying to comfort you, but something about him twisting the narrative so far in your favor just makes you want to sigh. You’re grateful for his defense, but it also feels a bit misplaced.
“How would you even know?” You try not to sound too mean, but the question comes out flat. “I bet you go on dates with those dimples and that…” you trail off, waving your hands noncommittally in his general direction.
Jungwon’s brows furrow. “You just gestured to all of me.”
“Exactly,” you nod. “You have that whole boy-next-door, easy going charm thing about you.” It’s true, and right now, you can’t help but think that it’s awfully unfair. “I bet you could ask whatever stupid standard first date questions you want and girls would still be falling at your feet.”
At face value, it’s a compliment. But there’s something about your tone, the trace remnants of sarcasm, of bitterness, that make him think otherwise.
“I’m not quite sure how to take that,” Jungwon finally tells you.
You sigh. You didn’t come here to project your insecurities on him. There might be layers of truth to it, but this isn’t his fault. You’re not being fair, and you know it.
“All I mean is that boys like you don’t have to try very hard. I feel like it all just comes so naturally to you. I wish I was like that, too. That’s all I’m saying.”
And Jungwon could protest, could launch into some speech about how you’ll find your person eventually, about how there’s someone out there for everyone.
But he knows you, is well-acquainted with that contemplative, overly self-critical look on your face. Can read all of your frustration and insecurity in the way you bite at your bottom lip.
You’re not looking for a lecture or false hope and certainly not empty words.
You came here with a case of beer and the intention to surprise him, to congratulate him for work well done.
He was the one that brought up the date, anyway. He knows that you’re not looking for advice. You’re looking for a friend.
So Jungwon waits for a moment before he says anything at all.
Then, he picks up your abandoned beer off the coffee table in front of you and holds it up to you. “C’mon,” he encourages gently, “join me.” He takes a sip of his own for good measure. “It isn’t going to drink itself.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I already feel kind of—”
“I think I bombed econ,” he offers. You can’t tell if it’s true or not, but that’s not the point. He needs you out of your head. “Don’t make me drown my sorrows alone.”
You can’t help but think that for all the fuss he used to put up about you being older, he certainly doesn’t mind appealing to it when it’s to his advantage.
But even lukewarm beer looks tempting when it’s him that’s offering it to you. And you’ve never been good at saying no, at least not to Jungwon.
He knows it, too. Jungwon isn’t surprised when you accept the bottle from his hands with nothing more than a halfhearted grumble under your breath.
There’s no trace of shock in his eyes when you bring it straight to your lips despite your earlier protests.
He just grins before leaning back against his side of the couch, smile still stretching across his lips as he brings his own bottle up to join you.
…..
Thursday afternoons are your favorite time in the flower shop. Run by a kind woman in her late sixties, she takes advantage of the day to attend her weekly Zumba class at the senior center, which means you have the shop all to yourself, save for the occasional customer.
Usually, you’d savor the stillness. Use it to catch up on inventory or fulfill the handful or edible arrangement requests for tomorrow.
But today, the silence is making you jittery. Mostly because your mind won’t give you a moment of peace no matter how much you beg it too.
Despite the prediction you gave Jungwon three days ago in his apartment, Sunghoon did reach out to you again.
The message still sits at the top of your text threads like a curse.
I enjoyed our time together, he said. Succinct, straightforward, and all things considered, surprising. Are you free this weekend? I’d love to see you again.
And it’s flattering, so much so that you nearly find yourself agreeing without taking so much as a moment to think about it.
Sophia will be thrilled, you’re sure. And you won’t have to burden Jungwon again with tipsy confessions of your own insecurities.
But alone in the flower shop, another thought starts to creep in, just as your fingers hover above the keyboard. A feeling.
The same one you left from your last date with. That strange, hollow emptiness that had you spiraling for days, convinced there must be something deeply, fundamentally off about you.
Again, you start to wonder why you can’t just do it. Can’t enjoy a date and a free meal and the pleasant company of a handsome stranger. Why all of your answers always come out stilted, cagey, so terribly awkward.
Why you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, convinced that any scraps of attention that come your way must be part of some elaborate prank that the universe is playing on you.
Why even a barely-there, trace amount of vulnerability feels like nails on a chalkboard. Why you haven’t been able to form a real, meaningful connection with anyone since Jay. A relationship that ended nearly four years ago. It’s enough to make you feel a little pathetic.
Logically, you know that this is how it goes. You can’t form connections or welcome new things into your life without a leap of faith.
But the potential fallout is terrifying. The thought of trying, really trying, and still being found lacking is enough to sober even the most romantic of your fantasies.
Something about the status quo, no matter how boring or tiresome or monotonous, feels safe. Like a cage you’ve settled into and made comfortable.
Your fingers hesitate, then fall away completely. Locking the screen of your phone, you tuck it back into your pocket with a sigh.
Busying yourself with the arrangement orders, you do your best to push Sunghoon and his unanswered invitation from your mind.
For a while at least, you’re successful. The afternoon passes slowly.
A woman in her thirties comes, looking for a bouquet for her sister who just had a baby.
A man in his fifties wants to send flowers to his daughter’s office to wish her a happy birthday.
A couple comes in, hands intertwined, asking if your shop would be able to accommodate enough flowers for their wedding to be held at the end of the month.
You greet them, you smile, you answer their questions with patience.
And all the while, you leave Sunghoon’s question hanging.
As your shift draws to an end, late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, your phone buzzes in your pocket once more.
Half expecting to see a string of curses from Sunghoon, angry you ignored him, convinced you’ve wronged him, you're surprised when it’s Jungwon’s name that lights up your screen instead.
His short string of messages reads,
It was nice to see you again
Missed my favorite girl
Movie night this weekend at mine? Popcorn on me
Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you can hardly stifle the smile that threatens to overtake your entire face.
Unlike Sunghoon’s, Jungwon’s message doesn’t fill you with dread, doesn’t leave you with a sudden flurry of doubts and questions clouding your mind.
And, unlike his, it’s easy to say yes to.
You wait only a fraction of a second before sending your reply.
I’ll be there
…..
The left side cushion of Jungwon’s living room couch is starting to feel familiar at this point. It’s been less than a week since you were last here, and it already feels routine sinking down into it.
When Jake steps out from his room minutes after you settle in, he doesn’t comment on his roommate’s company. Just arches a brow.
“You two drinking again?” he asks.
Apparently, he gave Jungwon shit for forgetting to clean up one of the bottles after last time. Ironic, considering it’s Jake’s dinner dishes that are gathering dust in the sink.
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. Remote in hand, he flicks through streaming service options until he lands on the one he’s looking for. “Just watching a movie.”
Jake pauses, eyes flickering towards the screen. “Which one?”
“Not sure.” Jungwon shrugs. “___ chose it.”
You turn over your shoulder, telling him the title. It’s some rom com that’s been terrorizing your twitter feed for weeks now. And then you offer, “You can join us if you want.”
You’re not sure if there’s enough space on the couch for the three of you, but you are the one crashing into their space. You’ll make it work if you have to.
“That’s alright.” Jake shakes his head. “I’m heading out.”
“Alright,” Jungwon waves him off without so much as a second glance.
“See you later,” you offer, still turned around.
Jake grins, looking at you before he makes his way to the door. “Enjoy your movie. And nice to see you again so soon, ___. I was worried you’d make me wait again.”
Next to you, Jungwon’s jaw clenches. He mutters something under his breath about making popcorn before standing up from his seat on the couch.
Jake leaves before he can rile Jungwon up any further, and the smell of popcorn begins to fill the room just as the opening credits begin to roll. An overzealous pop song plays in the background, one you recognize from the playlist your boss makes you put on shuffle, insisting the corny, upbeat lyrics will convince people to buy more flowers.
Jungwon comes back to the couch, sets the popcorn bowl on the table in front of you. He adjusts, moving closer. His knee brushes against yours. Both of you pretend not to notice. Intimacy and closeness is nothing new between the two of you. Hell, you grew up practically attached at the hip, sleeping in the same bed until you were in middle school.
But there was always practicality to it, a purpose. You held hands at the amusement park because you didn’t want to lose each other in the crowd. You let him put his head in your lap when you had a picnic in the park because the only other pillow available was the ant-filled grass.
This feels different. Intentional. Especially since there’s still plenty of space to his left.
You lean forward, reaching for the popcorn. The fabric of your pants rustles against his. Settling back into your seat, Jungwon takes his turn to reach forward. But instead of grabbing a fistful, he takes the whole bowl, bringing it to his lap.
“Here,” he nudges you. “It’s closer this way.”
You nod. Right. Closer.
In front of you, the movie begins to unfold. Saturated color grading, wardrobe choices that already look slightly dated despite the recent release date, and a female lead that first impressions paint as adorably quirky, it has all the makings of a brainless plot. The perfect way to waste a Friday night.
And Jungwon, who usually insists on holding his tongue until after the credits have rolled, leans a little closer to you just past the twenty-minute mark. Unnecessary, given how close the two of you are already sitting. His arm, bare from the short-sleeve shirt he wears, brushes against yours.
And his lips nearly touch the shell of your ear when he whispers, “This is ridiculous.”
You frown. “What is?”
“The premise,” he hums. “I mean, why would they pretend to date each other? It doesn’t make sense. There are plenty of other things he could do to get back at his ex.”
You roll your eyes. Leave it to him to analyze the storyline like it was designed for anything other than mindless entertainment. “It’s the oldest cliche in the book,” you explain. “It’s for the plot.”
“It’s obvious,” he shakes his head. “They’re going to fall in love with each other.”
“Of course they are,” you agree. “But not every movie has to have a million twists and turns. Sometimes it’s just nice to know how things will end and enjoy seeing how they get there.”
“You like that?” he asks, voice low. “When things fall into place exactly the way you expect them to?”
“Sometimes,” you breathe. “It’s nice to not always have to guess.”
“Would you ever do that?”
Your eyebrows raise. “Fake date someone?”
Jungwon nods.
“No,” you scoff. “I can barely handle a real date, remember?”
You’re not sure what it is, but something in your answer must satisfy his curiosity, at least for now. Next to you, Jungwon is quiet once again. In front of you, the characters on screen continue to tiptoe around each other, dancing around the obvious.
The onscreen tension builds and builds and builds, all the way until it breaks. With a heated confession in the rain and the one aspect of a rom com you forgot to account for before choosing your movie for the evening.
You’re a grown woman. You have the degree and the age on your driver’s license to prove it. But the flush on your cheeks is undeniable as the two characters on screen begin to kiss.
And kiss they do. Jesus christ, you think, just how much of the budget was allotted to close up shots of their mouths?
As the scene begins to heat, so does the temperature of your skin. You’re half afraid Jungwon will feel it, scalding him through the layers of fabric between your legs that still touch. Part of you wants to screw your eyes shut, to reach for the remote and click fast forward just to end the agony, but you’re pretty sure that would be even more humiliating.
Instead, you keep your eyes glued to the screen. Watch unmoving, trying to appear unaffected, as the male lead tangles his fingers through her hair, tugging slightly as she stifles a moan against his lips. It’s so raw, so intimate, that you’re tempted to pull out your phone and confirm the PG-13 rating you swear it had.
It’s involuntary, the way you squirm against the couch cushions. The movement is no help. All it does is make you brush further against the one person you’re suddenly desperately trying to ignore.
The man on screen brushes his fingers under the hemline of her shirt, drags the fitted material upwards.
Without even really meaning to, you dare a glance at Jungwon.
And find him already looking at you. Staring at you, lips parted, eyes locked on the flush spreading over your cheekbones.
Quickly, your eyes drop to your lap, but the image stays burned behind your eyelids. You don’t dare to look at him again, not even once the scene has ended, when the plot becomes ridiculous again instead of heated.
Even once the ending credits start to roll, you keep your eyes trained on the screen, as if the list of assistant directors is something you find fascinating. But Jungwon has other plans.
He shifts against you, knee nudging yours. You hear his exhale, heavier than before.
A moment passes. Another.
Then, he finally tells you, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Immediately your mind starts to swim. Thinking about what? The unbelievability of the premise? The questionable casting choices? Or, worst of all, the kiss?
Out loud, you do your best to school your question into something neutral. “Thinking about what?”
“What you said,” he tells you. It soothes exactly none of your frayed nerves.
What have you said? You suddenly can’t remember. You search for a list of recent statements you’ve made and come up completely blank.
It feels like a conversation that’s going nowhere when you ask, “What did I say?”
Jungwon doesn’t spare a moment. “That you think boys don’t like you.”
Oh. Oh. Nearly a week ago now, your tipsy, self-berating rambling must have stuck with him. Well, that’s fine, you suppose. That’s something you can explain away now. Sober, even if your mind is still spinning a bit.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you try to explain. “I was drunk and my words weren’t coming out right. I just meant that it was frustrating going on a date and leaving feeling like something was wrong with me, you know?”
Only after he’s quiet for a full thirty seconds do you dare a glance at him. Jungwon’s brow is furrowed, his lips pulled tight in contemplation. He parts his lips like he wants to say something, closes them again as if he’s thought better of it.
When he finally finds a statement to commit to, he says, “Maybe you’re going on dates with the wrong people.”
“Oh, definitely,” you agree. “But that’s the hard part, isn’t it?” In retrospect, it’s a big part of why you were so hesitant to accept Sophia’s offer in the first place, why she had to ask you, to insist, four times. “I feel like I have to go on so many terrible dates that make me feel like shit just to maybe eventually find someone I want to spend more time with. It’s not like I think there’s actually anything wrong with me, but I do feel like I have a harder time than other people. You know, making friends, going on dates, finding people I actually want to be around of my own volition.”
After already feeling so rejected from your job search, your headspace has been even more fragile. Dating doesn’t feel like stress relief for you. It feels like a reminder of all the things you wish were different about yourself.
Jungwon’s gentle when he shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping your circle small.”
“No,” you agree, “but sometimes it feels like it isn’t really my choice. Like, even if I wanted to have more friends or go on more dates, it wouldn't pan out the way I want it to. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep to myself, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times I wish I could be more outgoing.”
After another momentary lapse, another beat of silence, he asks, “What about me?”
A flicker of surprise crosses your features. “What about you?”
“You have an easy time talking to me,” Jungwon points out. “And I feel the same about you. We’ve been hanging out since we were kids, and I’ve never felt uncomfortable with you.”
“Really?” Your brow arches. “Even when I forced you to go down that waterslide in third grade?”
Even his mom had been surprised. He’d been terrified of that thing, apparently kicking and screaming against anyone else that tried to drag him down it. But when you, in all of your fourth-grade glory, insisted that he joined you, he just tucked his hand in yours, let you lead him all the way up the ladder even as his legs shook beneath him.
Jungwon smiles at the memory, a soft thing. But his eyes are still serious, his gaze still weighted. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “but that’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because…” you trail off, searching for an explanation. “Because you’re Jungwon.”
“Yeah.” The heat in his eyes doesn’t settle. “And?”
“And I’ve never had to think about it,” you shrug. “We became friends before I was even fully self-aware. You’ve always just been Jungwon.”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering. And then, “Can I ask you something?”
“I feel like you’re going to anyway.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, to distract from that strange bit of tension that still simmers.
Jungwon’s eyes don’t lose their edge. “Why did you start going on dates again?”
“What do you mean?” His question surprises you. “I just graduated from university. I’m young and unattached and all that. Isn’t this the time that everyone’s going on dates?”
“I suppose,” he concedes, “But I feel like that’s why you’re so frustrated.”
You frown, and he clarifies, “You’re going on dates because you feel like you should. Not because you want to.”
He pauses for a moment, gauging your reaction. Deciding your silence is permission enough, he presses on, “You’re not even sure what you want out of them or what an ideal relationship looks like for you right now. You’re just going and hoping something will stick, like throwing darts with a blindfold. Then you get upset with yourself when it doesn’t live up to your fantasy, even though you haven’t decided what your fantasy even is yet. I mean, why did you even meet Sunghoon? Because you really wanted to, or because you wanted to get Sophia off of your back about it?”
You feel exposed all of a sudden. Seen right down to your bones in a way you were prepared for. “I…” There’s a maturity to his question that you weren’t expecting, an edge you can’t quite decipher. You turn the question back to him instead of answering. “Since when did you get so observant?”
“I’ve always noticed you.”
“Jungwon…”
“So I can help you figure this out, too,” he insists. “Really,” he adds when you still look unsure. “Who knows you better than me?”
You can’t quite meet his gaze, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.
“Exactly,” Jungwon nods. “So I’ll ask you again, why did you agree to go on a date with Sunghoon?”
It would be easy to deflect, to blame Sophia’s insistence. Or to double down on your earlier statement, that this is the time in your life to try new things, to meet new people. That it felt natural to say yes.
But when you really think about it, the cold, honest truth is just that—
“I think I was just tired of hearing no all the time.”
Jungwon’s brow furrows. “Who’s telling you no?”
You sigh, try to let out an airy laugh that comes out choked, a little pathetic. “Only every hiring manager in the country, apparently. You know, I’ve been sending out job applications like crazy since graduation, but it's been six months now and the only thing I have to show for it is a stack of rejection letters cluttering my inbox.”
A flicker of understanding passes through his gaze. “So you’re compensating, then.”
You glare. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” he shakes his head. With the same tone you’ve heard him use to soothe a skittish kitten, he adds, “That must have been so frustrating. Putting in all that effort and not getting the result you wanted.” He knee brushes yours as he leans in closer, something unbearably earnest in his gaze. “You’ve been working too hard.”
“I haven’t been working hard enough,” you argue. “If I had, then something would have panned out at this point. I just need to—”
“There you go again,” he interrupts, shaking his head gently. “Assuming that it’s all your fault. Maybe the hiring manager was just an idiot, or you caught them on a bad day.”
“Yeah.” Your words drip with self-effacing sarcasm. “I’d believe that if it were one or two. But I don’t think over a hundred of them just happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed the day they reviewed my application.”
It comes out sharper than you mean for it to. Settles into the air a bit uncomfortably.
Jungwon takes a moment to respond. When he does, he just sighs your name.
“I know,” you scramble for something a little lighter, “like, the economy is shit and all, and one day I’ll look back at this and laugh or whatever. But it just sucks right now, you know? I’m so sick of it. I really just wanted to hear someone say—”
“Yes,” Jungwon finishes for you.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Exactly.”
“Okay,” he nods, resolve tightening as if he’s made his mind up about something. “Then ask me.”
“What?”
Jungwon doubles down. “You can ask me,” he insists again, that same damn earnestness in his eyes, “anything you want me to do.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “I’ll say yes. I promise.”
Against your will, you feel warmth starting to rise on your cheeks again. There’s something weighted in his promise, something desperate that simmers just behind it. Something that you have absolutely no idea what to do with.
Suddenly desperate for a reprieve, you do your best to break the tension. “That seems like a terrible idea.” You curse the strange breathlessness in your voice. Why are you like this? It’s just Jungwon. “What if I ask you to jump off a bridge?”
Jungwon just grins. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I know I’m safe. You’d miss me too much.”
“You know,” you start, “for someone who thinks fake dating is ridiculous, this feels even more absurd.”
Jungwon doesn’t budge. “Just try it,” he encourages. “Ask me something.”
You sigh. “Jungwon…”
“C’mon.” He’s relentless. “Just once.”
“Fine.” You glance towards the bowl still sitting in his lap. “Hand me the popcorn.”
Picking it up, he ignores your outstretched hands in favor of learning forward, all the way until he settles it in your lap. His fingers remain against the edges of the bowl until he’s sure the balance is steady. Only then does he lean back into his own space.
“Easy.” He grins. Then his brow furrows, considering. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I could make you some real food, if—”
“No,” you shake your head. Picking up a single piece of popcorn, you add, “Just wanted to do this.”
Throwing it square at his face, it bounces off of his nose harmlessly before falling to the carpet below. Jungwon’s nose scrunches in a knee-jerk reaction, eyes screwing shut before he opens them again.
“Maybe I was wrong,” his eyes are heavy-lidded, voice lower than you expect. “You are going to use it for evil.”
“Of course.” You reach for another kernel. “So maybe you should reconsider—”
Jungwon doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you a moment to prepare for the way he wraps his fingers around your raised wrist, locking it into place before you can toss another piece of popcorn in his direction.
His grip is warm against your skin. Tight, something you’re not sure you’d be able to break out of even if you tried.
Still, you attempt to fling the popcorn at him. With the restricted motion of your wrist, it doesn’t make it far. It flies through the air for only a split second before falling uselessly down to your own lap, just in front of the bowl it came from.
“Nice try,” Jungwon breathes, your wrist still encased in his grip.
Your eyes narrow. “I do my best.”
“I’m sure you do,” he allows, “but you’re trapped now.”
There’s something strange in his gaze. Something heavy, weighted that you can’t quite place. Something that feels entirely too real.
You test it, the strength of his grip on you. True to his word, your wrist hardly makes it an inch, his fingers a vice around them.
“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, voice airier than you mean for it to be.
“Maybe,” he agrees. A breath passes between you. Another. His eyes are still locked on yours, searching, like he’s desperate to find something. Another moment passes, and he releases his grip. Your wrist falls slowly back to your lap. “But I meant it.”
“I know you did.” You can’t quite make eye contact, but his sincerity is evident even as you place your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you.”
“Seriously,” he insists. “My schedule is a lot lighter now that midterms are done. If you ever want to do something or go somewhere or you just wanna crash for a night on my couch, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Did you get Jake’s approval for that?” You arch an eyebrow.
Jungwon’s voice is tighter than before, just slightly. “Jake will be fine." And then, still strained but a bit softer, “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. Don’t make me wait two weeks to see you.”
Here, in the quiet of his living room, movie forgotten on the TV, it’s easy to agree to.
“Okay,” you whisper, regular speech suddenly feeling too loud, too abrasive. And then again, because you really do mean it, “Thank you, Jungwon.”
“Of course,” he insists, voice equally low.
For a moment, the two of you sit like that, legs brushing, you avoiding the eye contact he tries to maintain.
Then, Jungwon sighs, faces the TV again as he reaches for the remote. “Should we watch something else?” he asks.
You nod. “Something scary this time.”
Jungwon arches a brow. “You hate horror movies.”
Shrugging, you insist. “I’m in the mood for one now.”
He still doesn’t look like he quite believes you, but he doesn’t argue any further as he scrolls down, searching for the genre.
At his side, you’re quiet. It’s true. You do hate horror. But you’d take zombies and ghosts and jumpscares any day over the off chance of having to sit through another kissing scene tonight.
This time, Jungwon picks the movie. Learning back against the cushions, he reaches for a handful of popcorn.
The movie hasn’t started yet. There’s nothing on the screen to be scared of, but your heart thumps traitorously against your ribcage anyway.
…..
Two days later, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop. This time, though, it’s not Jungwon who sits across from you.
“So,” Sophia starts, and you already recognize that tone. Uh-oh, you think. “Sunghoon asked about you.”
“Why?” you ask, memories of your rather terrible date coming back unbidden. “To see if I’ve checked myself into an insane asylum yet?”
“No,” she glares. “Just to see how you’re doing.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyeing you over the rim. “Why didn’t you go on another date? He told me he texted you.”
That explains it then, you think. Him reaching out to you probably didn’t come from genuine interest. Maybe spending time with you felt like nothing more than a favor to his coworker. Maybe he was secretly relieved when you’d ignored his message. Maybe he only brought it up to Sophia to be polite.
Your eyes narrow. “Why are you so involved, anyway? You know, this is exactly why they say you shouldn’t shit where you eat.”
“I’m not dating him,” she points out. “And you two don’t work together.” It’s true. You’d applied for an open position a couple months back, actually. And, of course, had been promptly rejected. “That doesn’t apply.”
“Close enough,” you mutter.
“Why are you so against it?” she asks. “Did he suck or something?” Considering it, she’s quick to apologize. “Sorry. He always seemed so nice at work. A little shy, like I told you, but when he mentioned he was single, you were the first person I thought of. Did he say something weird to you or try to make you split the bill—”
“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He was perfectly nice. And polite.”
Her confusion returns. “So what gives? I didn’t expect the two of you to get married, but I thought you’d at least last a little longer than one date. Besides,” she leans in, voice lower but still not nearly quiet enough for what she’s about to ask you, “aren’t you practically shriveled up at this point? Did you take a vow of celibacy without telling me? When’s the last time you even had se—”
Eyes widening in panic, you interrupt her with an entirely too loud, too bright, “Hi, Jungwon!”
Frowning, Sophia turns back to look over her shoulder. Because there he is, the man in question. A surprising coincidence, perhaps, if you weren’t the one that introduced both of your friends to this cafe.
“Hey,” he grins, glancing between the both of you with his takeout cup in hand. “I thought that was you I saw over here.” Turning to your friend, he nods, “Hi, Sophia.”
“Jungwon,” she returns. Her gaze follows his, all the way from his eyes to yours. Settling back into her seat, she gestures towards the empty chair at your table. “Grab a seat,” she offers. “Join us.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” you glance at him apologetically. “I’m sure Jungwon has other—”
But he slides down into the chair without a hint of protest, your words dying on your lips.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he says. “What were you two talking about?”
You force a smile that looks anything but easy. “Nothing,” you insist, just as Sophia explains,
“____’s desperate need to get laid.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flashing daggers at Sophia with your eyes as you pointedly avoid looking to where Jungwon sits on your right. “I did not say that.”
“So what?” she asks, either oblivious to your suffering or relishing in it. “You’re planning to be a nun forever?”
“I’m busy,” you deflect. “I have other priorities right now.”
“Busy people have sex,” she argues. “All that stress isn’t good for you. Like I said, you’ll shrivel up and—”
“Can we talk about literally anything else?” She has to know how embarrassed you are from the increasingly red shade of your face, how horrified you are that Jungwon can hear everything she’s saying. There aren’t many secrets left between the two of you, but the gory details of your nonexistent sex life isn’t something you’re exactly dying for him to be privy to.
Sophia leans back, some of the urgency of her insistence fading. Still, she’s not quite done. “I’m just confused,” she explains. “I mean, Sunghoon was kind and a gentleman and more than willing, if the way he keeps hounding me about you is anything to go by. I just don’t get it.”
Slowly, you brave a glance at Jungwon, who’s kept quiet this whole time. Maybe, at least, he shares some of your embarrassment, avoiding your gaze just as pointedly as you avoided his.
But when you turn towards him hesitantly, Jungwon is already looking at you. There’s nothing shy or avoidant as his eyes rake over you. And there’s no sign of embarrassment, no telltale flush, no fidgety shifting.
Jungwon’s just looking at you. With a cool, steady stare. Like he’s assessing you, clicking puzzle pieces into place.
When he finally breaks eye contact, it’s to look at Sophia. “Leave her alone,” he defends. His tone is light, teasing. But there’s an edge there. Something that doesn’t leave space for an argument. “She’ll find someone when she’s ready. Park Sunghoon isn’t the end all be all of men.”
“No,” Sophia agrees, “but surely he’s better than your left hand and the vib—”
“Oh my god,” you’re begging this time. “Stop.”
“What about you?” Jungwon asks, and both of you turn to him in surprise. When your eyes land on him, he’s looking at Sophia, not at you. “How’s your love life looking these days?”
“Love life…” She trails off, shrugging. “Nothing to report. But I haven’t joined your girl here,” she nods towards you, “at the convent yet. In that regard,” she grins. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Good for you,” Jungwon nods. “And the job is still going well?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “It’s not confirmed yet, but there’s a rumor that I might be in talks for a promotion next quarter. I’m…”
Her words trail off as you zone out, some of the adrenaline fading, the tension draining from your shoulders.
Not for the first time, you feel extremely grateful for Jungwon. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. And to you, it’s obvious. The way he maneuvered the conversation away from you. You’re sure that your discomfort wasn’t difficult to pick up on, but the way he handled it makes you appreciate him that much more.
Morbidly, you wonder what he thinks of your glaring lack of a sex life. Ever since Jay, you’ve kept the details of your relationships, or rather, lack thereof, close to the chest where he’s concerned. And even when you were with Jay, intimacy was never a topic you breached with Jungwon.
The thought has a flush starting anew on your cheekbones. You do your best to dismiss it.
Next to you, Jungwon keeps his eyes on Sophia, nodding at the appropriate times, commenting in a way that proves he’s listening.
But beneath the table, the warmth on his palm finds your knee. Without breaking conversation or giving even the slightest outward hint that his mind is anywhere besides your friend’s story about her boss’ most recent rampage, he squeezes.
Once, gently. Just to let you know that he’s there.
You fidget, and he does it again. This time, he can’t quite help the grin that spreads across his lips.
…..
Despite everything, you can’t shake the feeling of Jungwon’s hand on your knee beneath the table. Days pass, and in quiet moments, if you give your brain enough leeway, it always wanders back there.
To his easy, subtle defense of you. To the way it seemed so natural for him to soothe you silently with his touch.
To the way he looked at you, considering, evaluative, while Sophia laid out the gory details of your fruitless sex life on the table.
And maybe she was right to question you so thoroughly. Maybe it really has been too long, because that’s the only feasible explanation for the thoughts you’re having now.
It’s only natural, you suppose. Jungwon has been a constant in your life, a steady presence, for nearly as long as your memory extends. He’s been there through it all, your worst moments, your best memories. He’s seen all of it, knows you like the back of his hand, and he’s stuck around for it all.
For someone with an intense fear of rejection, it means more than you can say. You can’t think of anyone in this world that you trust more than him.
And intimacy… Intimacy is just an extension of that, you suppose. Being close with someone in that way is the ultimate act of trust.
Maybe that’s why things felt so stilted, so disjointed with Sunghoon. You had nothing against him, but you also didn’t know him at all. Trust is something that takes time, effort. How could you let your guard down with someone you had just met?
It’s just nerves, you’re sure. You’ve been out of practice since Jay, and with each passing day, that relationship just feels further and further away. A distant memory that you can’t recall well enough to guide you now.
Maybe if there was someone you really trusted, someone that you could just practice with, then—
No. You shake your head, dropping the thought as quick as it comes. It’s insane. It’s the exact opposite of everything your relationship with Jungwon has been for the last eighteen years of your life.
Still, when a message from him lights up your phone screen a handful of hours later, it takes you a full minute and a string of deep breaths to convince yourself to open it.
And when you reread the text, an invitation to drive out to a lesser known lookout where the two of you used to go to watch the sunset in high school, you agree easily. If your heart is beating a little too fast in your chest, well, you suppose no one ever has to know about it.
Years ago, you were the one that discovered the outlook. After a particularly awful day, due mostly to your terrible junior year biology teacher, you’d put your newly acquired driver’s license to good use. You had no destination in mind. You were still new to driving and liked the way that it felt, liked the way it seemed like you could outrun any problem if you just drove far enough.
A series of wrong turns led you straight to a forested area not too far from the highway. Jutting high out over a nearby valley, the scene you found sprawled out in front of you was gorgeous.
It was early spring, then. Flowers were just beginning to bloom, glowing in the late afternoon sun. You shifted the car into park, shutting off the engine. And then you sat, for hours, just looking out at all of it.
As the sun faded on the horizon, so did the most pressing of your worries. Looking around you, biology class had begun to feel a lifetime ago.
You realized that day that you found somewhere special, somewhere that you wouldn’t be willing to show to just anyone. Even then, there was only one person you thought you’d ever share the view with, that you’d ever let into your private little sanctuary.
So, one month later, when Jungwon came to your house after school with a crease between his eyebrows that usual methods couldn’t seem to soothe, you offered him the passenger seat of your car and the view you’d been keeping all to yourself.
That day, it became his too. And a tradition of sorts began to form. Whenever either of you was stressed or upset or just needed to get away from it all, you had a shared place to escape to. Somewhere that felt out of reach from everyone else. Somewhere for just the two of you.
You haven’t been back there with Jungwon for the better part of a year. Part of you is a bit worried as you see his car pull up from your apartment window—this time, he’ll be the one driving—that something happened.
After all, the two of you usually saved the outlook for difficult times.
But as you slide into Jungwon’s passenger seat, the only thing he greets you with is an easy smile.
“Good day?” he asks, handing you his phone so you can pick the playlist for the drive.
“Fine,” you nod, settling for an R&B album you know you both like. “What about you?” you ask, still wanting to dissuade your earlier concerns. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods, craning his neck as he checks for cross-traffic before pulling onto the main street. “I just wanted to see you. Thought it might be nice to go somewhere quiet. And it’s a beautiful day.” He looks towards the cloudless sky. “I thought the sunset would be nice.”
The drive goes quickly as you pass familiar streets, reminiscing as memories coming back at every turn.
“Oh my god,” you say as one comes back suddenly. “Remember that time we drove out here because James rejected me at junior prom?”
Jungwon frowns. “James was an idiot.”
It rings true in hindsight. “Yeah, but I was devastated. I cried so hard I got snot on my dress.” It’s easy to laugh at now, even if the sting was unbearable in the moment. “No wonder he said no.”
“He said no because he was a dumbass,” Jungwon argues. “Besides, it can’t be worse than the time we came here because I didn’t make the taekwondo competition team.”
Something about the memory, even now, makes your heart clench a little. “That was just sad,” you tell him softly. “You were so disappointed.”
“I got over it,” he shrugs. “The dartboard you made of my coach’s face helped.”
“Oh my god,” your eyes widen. “I forgot about that.”
Jungwon smiles like it’s a fond memory. “You were so violent.”
You shake your head. “Only for you. I don’t think I’d ever wanted to hit someone more.”
Trading memories like secrets, the two of you eventually reach the right exit. Pulling off the highway, the air around you immediately feels more still. Calmer.
And when Jungwon pulls right up to the overlook, shifting his car into park and shutting off the ignition, things feel just like you left them.
The sun is getting close to the horizon now. The valley that stretches out beneath you as far as the eye can see glows in the last rays of daylight.
Your gaze stretches out too, welcoming that sense of familiarity. “It looks the same,” you whisper.
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “It does.”
Returning here now makes times feel sharper, more obvious.
“We’ve been coming here for what, six years now?” You shake your head. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. I can’t believe I graduated. Like, I’m just done with university now. I still remember when it felt so far away.”
“Yeah.” Jungwon nods, eyes on the horizon. “Me too.”
For a moment, the space between you is silent, the air filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths.
You weren’t the one who asked him here, but if there was ever a place to admit the worries in your mind, you suppose it would be now.
Quietly, you say, “Can I ask you something?”
Jungwon turns to you, attuned to the serious tone of your voice. “Of course.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me,” you promise. “I know we don’t really talk about this kind of stuff usually, and—”
“___,” he interrupts, “Ask me.”
You take a breath. You can feel his gaze on you, but you can’t quite look him in the eye when you ask, “Do you think Sophia was right?”
“About what?” His shoulders stiffen. “Sunghoon?”
“No,” you shake your head, and the tension loosens, but only slightly. “About me.”
“What about you?” he breathes.
“That I…” you trail off, searching for the right words. “That it’s been too long since I was with someone.”
Even now, you can’t bring yourself to say it. To call a spade a spade. Jungwon reads between the lines easily enough.
He shakes his head. “It’s your choice to make. Yours and no one else’s, for whatever reasons you want. Don’t let Sophia make you feel bad just because her choice is different from yours.”
“I know,” you sigh. “But sometimes I think she’s right. That the longer I wait, the more difficult I’m making things for myself, like I’m just making the hurdle in my mind bigger and bigger. I mean, the last time I was with someone, you know, like that, was with Jay, and that was already—”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp. “It was?”
“See?” you frown, mistaking his surprise for confirmation of your fears. “It’s been so long. Too long. Even you think so.”
“I don’t—” he tries, shaking his head. Now Jungwon’s the one scrambling for words. “I don’t think it’s been too long. I was just surprised,” he says. “That’s all.”
“Yeah, surprised because of how long it’s been.” You laugh humorlessly. “Now even you think I’m a nun.”
“I don’t think that,” he shakes his head. “Like I said, it’s your choice.”
“Is it though?” you ask. “The more time passes, the more I start to think that the cards just aren’t stacked in my favor.”
Jungwon frowns. “What do you mean?”
Your palms splay against your lap. The last rays of sun stretch over the valley, and your words are spilling out before you can stop them. “Maybe Sunghoon only acted interested because of Sophia. Maybe every time anyone has expressed interest, it hasn’t been genuine.” You sigh. “It’s like, logically I know that’s just the insecurity talking, but the more time passes, the harder those thoughts are to shake.”
For a moment, Jungwon is quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is low, serious. Pleading for your understanding. “___,” he says, “you’re beautiful. Truly. Any man would be lucky for even the smallest piece of your time or attention. I know that it’s hard sometimes, and that those voices and doubts can feel so loud, but I really wish you could see yourself the way other people do. The way I do.”
“Jungwon…”
“If you decide to have a relationship with someone, one of any nature, then it should be because you want to, not because you feel like you have to or because you’re trying to prove something.”
“What if I never get over it?” you ask, voice small, hardly a whisper. “What if I never get past this fear?”
“You will,” Jungwon promises. “It might not happen as fast as you want it to or in the way you expect it to, but you will.”
It’s so him, you think. So Jungwon to have more faith in you than even you ever could. He’s been here since the beginning, and he’s not going anywhere. He’s seen you face obstacles and challenges before, and he’s always done everything in his power to help you overcome them.
Maybe this is no different. Maybe the only thing you ever needed was some help from Jungwon.
Maybe…
No. Even with your logic twisting things to your favor, you know that this is different. This is different from asking for a favor or some moral support. If you ask Jungwon to do this for you, you’re crossing a line. One that you’re not sure you’d be able to come back from.
The friendship you have isn’t just something you’re unwilling to risk. It has quite literally become something you don’t know how to live without. You’ve never had to try, never even had to imagine a life without Jungwon at your side.
The only time that came close was during your first year of university, during your relationship with Jay, and that had been nearly enough to wreck you. The potential fallout from this could be worse, so much worse. You won’t risk it.
But then, unbidden, your mind supplies a memory. One from his couch, little more than a week ago.
“You can ask me,” he’d told you, earnest in his delivery, “anything you want me to do.” He said it himself. He promised you. “I’ll say yes.”
So, before you can lose your grip on the last remnants of courage you have, you ask, “Would you ever…”
It’s as far as you get before your bravery fails you, words trailing off into nothingness.
You wish you could take them back when Jungwon asks, a little breathless. “Would I ever what?”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Just forget I said anything.”
But he won’t let you get away so easily. “Ask me.”
And you swear, it’s like he knows. His gaze bores into yours, searching, pleading, desperate, like he can see you all the way down to your bones. Like even the most secret of your thoughts have been laid bare before him.
“___,” he whispers your name. “Ask me,” he repeats.
“I just…” Your eyes screw shut. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “What if we…”
“What if we what?”
You open your eyes, but only to look down towards your lap. “I trust you,” you whisper. In the silence of his car, it feels like you’re shouting. “More than anyone. Maybe I’ll be able to get over that hurdle in my mind if I just let you—”
“Let me what?” he asks. “Touch you?”
The breath you draw is ragged, shallow, as he hits the bullseye with little effort. Your fingers find a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater. You know better, but you pull anyway. “Yeah,” you exhale. “If you…” You can’t look him in the eye, even now. It’s hardly a whisper, but you can’t bring yourself to say it any louder. “If I let you touch me.”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp, his shudder involuntary. He leans across the center console, closer to you. Closer, closer, closer, until he stops, lips parting, face inches from yours.
He takes a deep breath in, holding it as his eyes search your face even as you keep yours turned down. Your heart hammers in your chest so violently you think it must be trying to escape. You still can’t look at him.
Jungwon’s breath escapes him in a shallow huff, dusting across your cheekbone. He lingers there for a second, like he can’t stand the thought of distance.
Then, without a warning, he sits back in his seat, knuckles white against the fabric of his jeans.
“I can’t,” he tells you.
You look up, eyes widening in surprise. “What?”
“I can’t,” he repeats. This time, he’s the one avoiding eye contact. You search his features for anything, any kind of explanation, but all you find is the tense set of his jaw, the heat that still simmers in his gaze. The restraint holding him back.
And suddenly, shame flashes through you. White hot humiliation that stings all the way down to your bones. It was one thing to imagine rejection from faceless men. But feeling it now, from him, from Jungwon, is so much worse than anything your mind ever conjured.
Trying not to let accusation sit too heavy in your tone, you whisper, “You promised.” It’s so pathetic, but there’s nothing left of your pride at that point. “You told me you’d say yes to anything.”
Jungwon flinches. “And I’m trying,” he tells you, an edge to his voice that sings with desperation. “Believe me, I am. I’m doing my best to make this about you, but…”
“But what?” You scoff. “You changed your mind? The thought of me like that is so repulsive you have to—”
“No.” He won’t let you finish. “But you’re sitting here, looking at me like you’d do anything for it, like you need it, and I can’t just say yes and give it to you because I do too.”
Your anger subsides, replaced with confusion. “What do you—”
“I need it too.” Only then does he meet your eye. Wide in the dying glow of lingering daylight, he’s begging for a bit of your understanding. “I’m trying to be selfless, but if I touch you, that won’t be just for you.”
Your brow creases. You still don’t get it. “I don’t—”
Jungwon releases a shaky exhale. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you since I was old enough to know what it meant. Since I was old enough to want things like that at all.”
It’s all too much, too sudden. “Jungwon, what—”
“I know that you still think of me as the kid you grew up next to, and I’ve been doing my best not to shatter the illusion because you like me like that. But you come home from a date telling me it didn’t work out, telling me that boys don’t like you, and all I can think is good.” His hand curls into a fist, knuckles white. “I could do it so much better anyway.”
“I didn’t…” You shake your head. It doesn’t make sense. “You never—”
But Jungwon isn’t done yet. “You’re sitting here asking me to touch you, but I— fuck, ___. I can’t. Not when you’re only asking because you think it doesn’t mean anything to me. That it won’t change anything for me. You tell me that you trust me, and it’s the sweetest thing about you. I can’t take advantage of that.” His breath is practically heaving now, like he’s just finished running. “I can’t use your trust and break it like this.”
The sun dips past the horizon. The only lingering remnants of daylight cast his face into a gentle glow. Even as shadows begin to trace his features, he’s still Jungwon. Your Jungwon. But no matter how many times you spin his words through your mind, you can’t form them into something you understand. Something you have any idea what to do with.
“I…” It’s so confusing. It’s entirely too much. All you can think is, “Why did you never say anything?”
Jungwon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Would it have changed anything? I know you. You run when you get scared. You like me like this, your harmless little friend. You said it yourself, you think you know everything about boys like me. And you needed a friend. So that’s what I’ll be. Your friend. But I can’t say yes, not to this.”
“What if—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I know you think I can handle anything, but don’t tell me things you don’t mean.”
“Jungwon,” you try softly.
His fingers wrap around his steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “Just let me drive you home,” he pleads.
“But—”
“Please,” he whispers, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so broken. “I know it was too much, that it’s not fair to you, but I can’t… I don’t think I can look at you right now and see all that confusion. So just,” he begs again, “please. Let me take you home.”
You want to press the issue, want to keep going until you have even a small fragment of understanding to call yours, but Jungwon is no stranger to making sacrifices for you. It seems he’s been making even more than you ever realized.
Tonight, right now, you can do the same for him.
“Okay,” you whisper.
The drive home passes in silence. Heavy, thick, uncomfortable like a blanket on a sweltering summer night. Neither of you bother to turn on the music this time. The only company to the quiet are the thoughts spinning through your mind, the moon that begins to shine as dusk turns to night.
Still, as he eases into the driveway just in front of your apartment, you can’t help but whisper, “Good night, Jungwon” as you step out of the passenger seat.
Whatever has passed between you, whatever terrible precipice the two of you have just fallen from, he doesn’t seem to be able to either.
“Good night, ____.”
By the time you make it inside, he’s gone. You know it will be, even before you check for his car from your bedroom window.
…..
“Um,” you begin, entirely unsure how to start the conversation. Across from you, Sophia sits on her favorite kitchen stool, scrolling through her Instagram feed while you wait for the pasta water to boil. “Something happened.”
“Mm?” She hums halfheartedly, eyes still trained on her phone screen.
Your words come out too fast, like you’re in a rush to have them over with as quickly as you can. “I was with Jungwon a few nights ago, and—”
“Oh my god,” she interrupts as she finally looks up, phone forgotten as she sets in on the counter. “You two finally hooked up?”
“What?” Your face pales at just how close she is to the truth. “Why would you even ask that? We’ve never even come close.” Well, of course, except for the incident you’re currently trying to explain. That you’ve been tiptoeing around for the better part of a minute.
“Are you kidding?” Sophia deadpans. “That boy looks at you like he wants to eat you.”
You splutter. “He does not.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t look at me for a week after I set you up with Sunghoon. And I thought he was gonna kill me that day he saw us at the cafe. All I did was mention the possibility of you having sex with someone that wasn’t him, and it’s like he was writing my name on some imaginary death note.”
“You don’t even watch anime,” you point out.
“I know the reference,” she argues.
Then, something more pressing draws your attention. “You did it on purpose,” you accuse, realization dawning. “You kept pushing the subject that day to see how he’d react.”
“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “I really do think you should put yourself out there more. Whether it’s Sunghoon or him or someone entirely different. Although,” she considers, “it is always kind of fun to see him get like that. Jungwon’s one of those people you don’t really expect it from, you know? He’s always so calm and collected. But I don’t know if I’ll try it again,” she looks at you, faking a shudder. “He’s scary when it comes to you.”
Any other day, in any other situation, you’d protest. You’d insist that Jungwon is entirely unaffected by you and your romantic choices. That Sophia must have been imagining things that day.
But Jungwon has already basically confirmed every last one of her claims, whispered them to you himself from the secrecy of his driver’s seat.
It’s the reason you invited her over today. To talk. To get a different perspective. To help you work through what happened.
Now, though, you just have a question.
“Why…” You still can’t wrap your mind around it. “Why did no one ever say anything?”
Sophia senses the shift, the way you go from defense to acceptance. From arguing to spiraling.
“Oh, ___,” she pouts. “My poor, sweet, oblivious ____.”
“I’m not oblivious,” you argue.
“Not usually,” she agrees. “But it’s like you have this blind spot when it comes to him. He’ll be in the middle of undressing you with his eyes and you’ll start telling some story about the matching diapers your moms bought when you were babies.”
“They were pajamas,” you correct.
“Whatever,” Sophia waves it off. “The point still stands. That boy wants you. Like, biblically.”
It’s consistent. It’s as much as Jungwon himself told you himself. But something about it makes you feel so terribly defeated, so completely unaware of everything you thought you knew about your friendship. About him. About yourself.
A bit helplessly, you ask, “What am I supposed to do?”
Sophia takes one look at you, at the dejection clouding your features, and sighs. “Can I be honest with you?”
You nod.
“I think you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about what you’re supposed to do. It’s not about what Jungwon wants or what I think about your weird, sexually charged friendship.” Then, she asks the million dollar question, “What do you want to do?”
But that’s exactly the problem, you think, because, “I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it. He’s always just been Jungwon to me.” Pausing for a moment, you suppose you have little pride left to lose. You might as well be honest. “But the other night, when I was with him. I started thinking about… things.”
“Things,” Sophia repeats. She leans in closer, resting her chin against her palm as she asks, “What kinds of things? Feel free to be graphic, by the way.”
“Sophia.”
She pouts sympathetically. “You might not know right away. You’ve spent your entire life thinking of him as some untouchable, sexless entity. Which is kind of crazy, by the way. Like, have you seen the guy?”
You sigh. “Sophia—”
“I’m just saying, it might not happen overnight.” She looks at you, and you feel a sudden surge of gratitude for your friend. She may be wildly different from you in more ways than one, but she means it when she says, “It’s okay. Jungwon will understand, too. If you need some more time to decide if you want to jump his bones or not. He’s probably already been waiting since, like, junior prom. What’s a little longer?”
A little longer, you think. Part of you already spins with doubt, waiting for someone else to supply exact answers. How long is a little longer? When should you make your decision? How long is it supposed to take for you to know if your best friend of eighteen years is meant to stay as just that, or if the relationship between you has been building, slowly, surely, undeniably, into something else this whole time?
But you suppose that’s what Sophia means when she says it’s okay. What Jungwon meant when he told you it was alright to do things at your own pace, on your own time. You don’t need someone else to decide for you.
The difficulty isn’t a flaw—it’s a sign that this decision is one that matters to you, one that’s worth taking your time with.
So you do.
You think about it while you fine tune your resume for yet another job application. You think about it while you snip thorns off of roses at the flower shop, humming along absentmindedly to the playlist in the background.
You think about it in the shower and while you dinner. When your mom calls you and tells you about the new bulbs she just bought for her garden, the one that time and experience have allowed her to grow into something beautiful and thriving.
You think about it when you reach into the bottom drawer of your dresser one evening, pulling out the gift Jungwon gave you when you graduated high school nearly five long years ago.
A photobook, full of all your favorite memories together. Something to remember him by, he’d told you, so you wouldn’t miss him too much when you went off to university one whole year ahead of him.
In every picture, you’re smiling, grinning so wide you think your face must be in danger of splitting in two. And you’re so lucky, you think, to have someone to share all of these memories with. To have someone who’s been in your life for so long, who’s always been exactly what you needed.
And then, staring at a picture of the two of you in high school, his arm around your shoulders as the two of you laugh into the camera, you think it’s obvious.
You don’t have to make a choice between the Jungwon you know and the one you’re afraid to discover. Jungwon has been, and always will be, Jungwon. The way he smiles at you, because of you, isn’t an illusion, and the love he offers you isn’t conditional.
He’s been your friend for as long as you can remember, and he will be for the rest of your life. Your feelings and hopes and desires may have shifted, but he isn’t going anywhere.
He’s not scared of the truth, you realize. He never was. But he knew that you would be.
So he fed it to you slowly until it was too prominent to deny anymore. And even then, he gave you space. Time. Let you come to your own conclusions.
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
You think of the game you used to play as kids, the one where you put on your best dress and let him pick wildflowers for you from his back yard. The one where you used the welcome mat from his porch as a makeshift aisle. The one where every time you walked down it, he was the one waiting for you at the end.
You smile, nearly identical to the picture still splayed open across your lap, and you think that maybe there was never really a choice at all.
…..
Your knuckles barely rap against the door three times before you hear shuffling on the other side. Footsteps drawing closer until the latch opens, until the door draws back and you see him standing there. Jungwon.
If he’s surprised to see you, he doesn’t show it. Dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain, fitted black t-shirt, you don’t think he was expecting company.
“Hi,” you breathe. “Can we talk?”
Jungwon still says nothing, but he opens the door a bit wider, gives you space to walk in. Standing in the entry, you take your shoes off, setting them neatly with the others before drawing back up to full height. Prolonging the inevitable as if it makes any part of what you’re about to do easier.
You finally drag your eyes back to Jungwon. He’s already looking at you, expression unreadable. His hands are loose at his sides, but his posture is just slightly unnatural. Just a little too stiff. You know him. He’s nervous.
Finally, you break the silence building between you. “I’ve been thinking,” you tell him.
“About what?” he asks.
“You,” you admit. “Us.” A string somewhere pulls taught. A thread loosens.
Jungwon sighs, his exhale shaky. His hand curls to a loose fist before he tucks it into his pocket. “And?”
“I—” Your decision is still solid, not something you’ll back away from. But the words are harder to work out than you expected. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
Jungwon nods. “I know.”
“So,” you try, “it feels weird to suddenly have these thoughts about…”
He won’t let you leave things unsaid, not this time. “About what?”
“You know,” you try to deflect.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “but I’m gonna make you say it.”
You fidget a bit, eyes dropping, but you didn’t come all the way here because you weren’t sure. You know exactly what you want to tell him.
So you explain, “I just… you asked me, after my date with Sunghoon, what I was looking for.” It feels like a long time ago now, like a distant memory. “And I always felt like I didn’t know, but when I think about it, I always think about…”
“What?” Jungwon breathes.
“You.” Your eyes meet his. This time, neither of you looks away. “I think about you. I don’t have to try and come up with the best answer to my favorite hobbies because you already know. You know me better than anyone and you make me feel good about myself and all the things I usually don’t like. I don’t feel awkward or uncomfortable around you, and I don’t feel like I have to explain myself to you.”
Jungwon’s breath is coming heavier now. He takes half a step towards you, almost subconsciously, as if distance is something he’s finding more difficult to tolerate. But he knows you aren’t done, so he lets you continue.
“And then,” you add, “I was thinking about the difference between our friendship as it’s always been and the kind of relationship I think I want. And the only thing that’s really different is, you know, the sex.” Your words are spilling now, faster than even you can keep up with. “But even then, when I was trying to think of someone who I trusted enough to be with like that, the only person I thought of was—”
“Me,” Jungwon finishes, gaze unreadable.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “You. I don’t want to go on blind dates with Sophia’s coworkers or find random guys to hook up with. I just want you. It’s always been you. I want all of it to be you.”
Jungwon’s eyes shutter, brows going slack as he takes a deep inhale.
But you want to give him the same courtesy he’s been extending towards you this entire time. The decision, you want him to know, will always be his to make. “I know it might seem weird or sudden or out of the blue,” you tell him, “but I just needed you to know.” Thinking of his earlier promise you clarify, “You don’t have to say yes. I don’t even know if I’m really asking you anything—”
“You think about me?” he interrupts. “When you think about what you want in a relationship?”
The bluntness of it all still makes you want to squirm. But you hold steady. “Yeah,” you tell him.
“And when you think about having sex,” He’s so direct. It makes you want to hide your face behind your hands. “That’s me too?”
You can’t quite manage words this time, but your nod is confirmation enough.
Jungwon exhales, even harsher than before. “Are you just curious?” he asks. “It’s fine if you are, but I can’t— we can’t do this if you’re just trying to scratch an itch. If you’re just doing it to move on, to get over a fear.”
“I…” you’re trying to read between the lines, to make sure that you understand what he’s saying. It seems obvious, but there’s a strange haze in your mind that has you doubting everything, including your own judgement. “If we do…”
Jungwon doesn’t seem to have the same reservations for spelling it out. “If we have sex.”
“Oh,” you breathe. And then, “No.” You shake your head.
“No?” He echoes.
“I…” You trail off, trying to find the right words to explain. “I’m not—There’s no fear when it comes to you. I’m not trying to get over anything. And there’s no one else that I even want to be with like that, so…” You trail off, searching for the words. “You told me it was my choice, and I guess I just want you to know that it’s yours, too. You don’t have to agree to anything, because you’re afraid of disappointing me or hurting my feelings or—”
“___,” he whispers your name, the sound nearly broken on his lips. You look up at him, eyes wide. “Come here,” he begs.
It only takes two tiny steps for you to stand just before him, for your chests to nearly brush. For a moment, Jungwon does nothing. Then, his arms come up, one circling around your shoulders, the other against the small of your back as he pulls you flush to him.
The side of your face rests against his chest, his heartbeat erratic under your cheek. You hear him sigh and feel the way his breath flutters through your hair.
He leans back, just slightly, and you follow the movement, chin tilting upwards as your eyes meet his. The hand wrapped around your shoulders slowly unravels itself. He brings his hand up to your temple, brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
His other hand stays steady against the small of your back.
Jungwon’s fingertips linger against the shell of your ear for a moment. You suppress a shudder as he begins to drag them down, tracing the line of your jaw until they come to settle just beneath your chin.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
You nod, the movement making his fingers press more firmly into your skin.
Then, slowly, he begins to lean towards you. His nose brushes against yours, once, twice, a third time.
“I’ve thought about this,” he admits. “More times than I can count.”
He’s told you as much before, but now, with his hands on you and his lips just inches away, it feels different. It feels real.
“I imagined you looking at me,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “with those big, wide eyes.” Another kiss, this time to the curve of your cheekbone. “Clinging to me,” a kiss to your eyelid as it flutters shut. “Sighing.” The tip of your nose. “And I’d try to hold back, but—”
“You don’t have to,” you shake your head. It comes out quieter than you mean for it too. It’s ridiculous, maybe, but even now, you feel shy.
“You mean that?” he asks, lips hovering so close you can feel their warmth.
You nod, nose brushing against his.
Jungwon sighs, takes a deep breath. And then he presses forward, just enough, until his lips finally brush against yours.
His grip tightens against you, fingers bunching the fabric of your shirt that rests against the small of your back.
He’s gentle, so impossibly sweet as his lips find yours. Upper lip slotting between both of yours, he tugs slightly against your bottom lip. Releases it with a soft, wet sound. Smiles against you as you giggle into him.
When his lips find yours again, it’s with renowned fervency. The pressure is more insistent this time, more demanding as he uses the hand beneath your jaw to angle you his liking.
Jungwon takes the lead, pausing, soothing his touch against your skin while you adjust to his pace.
Your hands find his hair, tangling in the strands near his neck. You tug, an involuntary response when you feel his teeth against your bottom lip, and he groans, shuddering against you.
Without breaking connection, he moves, walking backwards, leading blindly, until he sits down on the same couch you’ve been sharing moments on for weeks now. This time, he tugs you down with him, pulling you flush against his lap.
You feel it then, the evidence of just how affected he is. As if the drunk flush on his cheeks and swollen, red tint of his lips weren’t enough.
Jungwon wraps both hands around your waist now, pulling you tighter to him as your fingers cup his jaw, tracing, gripping.
You feel it then, his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you part them without a second thought.
Jungwon waits until you’re breathless above him to decide that he’s had enough of this position. Using the leverage of his hands around you, he maneuvers your body until you're flat against the cushions, head propped against the pillow that sits by the armrest.
Hovering over you now, he uses his hands to brace himself on either side of your head. Eyes trained on your features, on the evidence of his ministrations. His gaze gets darker, heavier, as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. Skin flushed, lips swollen and parted in anticipation, in permission.
Jungwon’s had his fantasies. Has kept them close to his chest and in the back of his mind for longer than he’d be willing to admit. But the sight of you now. Under him, reaching for him, begging for him, is enough to shatter every wet dream he’s had since he was a teenager.
Jungwon doesn’t maintain distance for long. Leaning down, he invades all of your senses. All you can see, even with your eyes screwed shut, is him. All you can feel is his lips, warm and insistent against your, the press of his hands on you, hovering just above the sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up over your waistband. Every sound, every scent, every taste—it’s all him. Something warm and familiar and entirely new all at once.
His hand plays with the fabric of your hem for a moment, testing the waters. When all you do is kiss him back—harder—he decides to press his luck. Fingertips dancing against the bare skin of your lower stomach, he starts to drag your shirt upwards.
The air of his apartment is cool, even if his touch is anything but. It makes every inch of exposed skin that much more sensitive, goosebumps rising as his fingertips trace patterns against you.
His lips press against yours, a new angle, as a sound loosens itself from your chest. He swallows it, tongue pressing against you like he wants to savor it, like he’d do anything to hear it again.
He has your shirt nearly to your ribcage now, fingers tracing against the bottom seam of your bra, nerves singing with something new as you arch up against him. You need more.
Friction, pressure, touch, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take whatever he gives you.
Then, suddenly, you remember. Pulling back slightly, his lips chase yours.
“Wait,” you pant, the syllable muffled as he presses another kiss against you.
Once your request registers, he stops, mouth still brushing against yours. Leaning back slightly, he frowns. His chest still heaves when he asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, breathless. “But what about Jake?”
“What?” Jungwon asks above you. You don’t seem to be the only one struggling with coherent thought.
“Jake,” you repeat. “What if he comes in?”
He wouldn’t see anything, not really. Even the expanse of your bare torso is covered by Jungwon’s body on yours. But still, something in you hesitates. This, all of it, is for you and him. No one else.
Jungwon shakes his head. “He’s not home.”
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Jungwon insists. “He’s visiting his family for the weekend. He won’t be back until Monday.”
Still breathing hard, it’s as if your interruption knocked sense back into him. Palm still splayed against your ribs, he rubs gentle strokes with the pad of his thumb.
Looking down at you, his eyes crinkle slightly at the way you look so sweet under him, so shy despite what you’d been doing only moments earlier.
“Hey,” he leans down, nudging his nose against yours, “You doing okay?”
You nod, but you still don’t match his gaze.
“Yeah?” he confirms, “Then look at me.”
It takes a moment, but you do. Your cheeks only redden further, flush more apparent than he’s ever seen it before when you finally meet his eye.
Something in his chest swells. You might be a year older, but fuck if it doesn’t make him feel like such a man knowing that he’s the reason you look like this, that he’s the one who did this to you.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, grinning when you look away again. He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. A chaste peck against the seam of your lips. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Jungwon,” you whine.
“What?” he asks. “It’s true.”
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“I can take a break to compliment you?”
You flush again, hands coming up to cover your face.
“Ah, ah,” Jungwon tsks, fingers wrapping around your wrists. “I asked you to look at me.” He pulls, gentle but insistent, until your hands fall away. Until he can once again look you in the eye.
“How long are you just gonna stare at me?” you ask.
“As long as you’ll let me,” he grins.
“Jungwon,” you whine again.
“Why?” he asks, practically cooing at you now. “Is my baby shy?”
You shudder at the pet name, and it awakens something devious in him.
“Oh,” he breathes. “I see. You’re getting impatient. Need me to touch you. Is that it?”
All you do is whine, but it’s a good enough answer for him.
“C’mon,” he urges, leaning back. “Up.”
You frown at the sudden distance, a furrow creasing your brow.
“The first time we have sex is not going to be on my living room couch,” he explains. Taking your hand in his, he guides you instead towards his bedroom.
And it’s not like you’ve never been here before, but something about the low light, the weight of what you’re about to do, makes it feel like uncharted territory.
You step into the room, even further than Jungwon, eyes trained on the queen size bed pressed up under the window on the far side of the room.
Your back to him, you hear Jungwon pull the door shut. It latches into place with a quiet click. And then, behind you, he asks, “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you admit, turning to face him as you sit on the edge of his bed. “Us. I never thought…” you trail off, palm smoothing against the top of his sheets. “I never thought we’d be here.”
“I did,” Jungwon tells you.
“Really?” Your eyes widen when you look at him.
“Maybe thought is the wrong word,” he amends. “But I hoped.” He’s quiet for a moment, emotions playing out across his features. “Now that you’re here, I…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to do anything wrong,” he admits. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You won’t.” You shake your head. “I told you. I trust you. That includes this, too.”
Jungwon looks at you, gaze open. “You mean that?”
“Of course,” you nod.
Some of the tension drains from his broad shoulders, but he stays where he is, silhouette shrouded in the dim light of his bedroom.
This time, it’s you who takes charge.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, an echo of your earlier embrace in his entry way. “Come here.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs. His footsteps are even, steady, as he makes his way towards you. All the way until he stands just before you, looking down at where you sit on his sheets.
His hand comes to your cheek, thumb tracing patterns against your skin as you lean into his touch.
“Up,” he instructs. “Back against the pillows.” His hand falls from your face, trails down until his fingers interlace with yours. He follows in your wake as you move according to his instructions, all the way until you’re in a ghost of the position from his couch.
His body hovers over yours, breath warm as it fans against your cheekbone.
Again, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. This time, he’s less shy about pressing it upwards, all the way until it sits against the band of your bra.
Plain, black, built more for comfort than arousal. But you know Jungwon. He’ll take you as you are.
“Jungwon,” you breathe, just as his fingertip slips beneath the band. It takes him a moment to tear his eyes away, to look up and meet your gaze. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Lips meeting yours, the slow build from before is gone. He knows what he’s searching for now, has already learned what rhythm makes you breathless fastest, palms splaying against his chest like you’d do anything to be closer.
His hand comes to your hip, then slides to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder as he guides it open, pliant to his touch. Jungwon uses the newly created space to slot his leg in between yours.
The shift has him brushing against you where tension is beginning to gather, exactly where you’re beginning to ache.
It feels good, but there’s something frustrating about it. The way sensation builds and falls in the same maddening ebb and flow, like the sea of an uncharacteristically quiet day.
You already know it’s not enough. Against his lips, you whine. A pathetic little sound that stays half trapped in your throat. But Jungwon understands.
Sees the way your hips are starting to roll against him, the way your brow creases in concentration as you try to find a better angle.
Leg still between yours, he lets his fingertips ghost over the planes of your bare stomach, dragging downwards until he’s exactly where you want him.
You whine against his lips and he shudders. “Is this what you need?”
You can hardly respond, can hardly think as his fingers dip below your waistband. Far more precise, it doesn’t take long to have you seeing stars.
He’s still kissing you, and you do your best to return it, but the sensations he levels you with are more than a little maddening. Lips parted against his, your mouth is practically slack as he works against you.
“Feels—good,” you sigh, eyes screwing shut.
“I can tell,” he whispers, some kind of awe in his voice. “Look at you.”
You’re so close. Jungwon can tell, too. He’s frantic now, movements tighter, faster as he watches the way your face twists in pleasure.
Your hand closes around his wrist, stopping him. “Jungwon,” you pant, the sound of his name hardly coherent. “Wait.”
Immediately, his hand stills. He doesn’t pull away though, just leaves it there, against you.
The sensation sends a fresh, aching throb pulsing from somewhere deep within you. Jungwon feels it too, against his fingertips, and groans.
Remembering himself, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I just… I’m ready.”
Jungwon thinks he knows what you mean. He’s imagined those same words from you before. A million times, in a million different contexts. But the sight of you beneath him, eyes wide, lips parted, so terribly sweet, is so much better than he ever dreamed.
“I want you,” you whisper, tugging at his wrist. “Please.”
Jungwon won’t make you wait. Fingers still hidden beneath your waistband, he slides them towards the top now, pulling, all the way until you’re bare beneath him.
He presses a kiss against your hip, just shy of where he was moments before.
He helps you slide your shirt over your head and shudders when your bra follows in its wake. He marvels at the feeling of your hands, smaller than his, tugging at his shirt, his jeans, until the two of you are in an equal state of undress.
Again, because it’s true and because he can’t help himself, he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
You’re still shy, even more so with the weight of his gaze on you, but you manage, “So are you.” It’s his turn to flush.
Hands pressing against your shoulders, he guides you to lay down again. Hair fanning out against his pillows, he thinks you look a bit like an angel here, tangled in his sheets.
He’d tell you, if he weren’t so distracted by the sudden feeling of your leg coming to wrap around his waist.
Skin against skin, it feels even closer than before. Warmer, Softer.
“Jungwon,” your brows pull downward, eyes fluttering shut as you chase the sensations that have begun to drown you. “Please.”
He moves slowly, not from hesitation. Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever been so sure of anything in his life. But he knows what this means to you, to him. He wants to take his time, wants to let every part of you adjust to him until you feel like an extension of one another, until your bodies can’t quite tell where one ends and the other begins.
He swallows your gasp as he presses into you. Brows furrowed, lips parted, he drops his head into the crook of your neck, scattering soothing kisses down the length of your throat.
“Feels so good,” he encourages as you whimper, adjusting. “Perfect, like you were made for me.”
The sentiment rings true, now and later, when he feels you relax around him, when he starts to move.
Slowly, reverently, at a pace that lets him press as deep as possible.
He brings his hand from your hip to the space just beneath your navel, palm splaying over your lower stomach, just above where he presses inside of you. Pushing down slightly, the added pressure makes you whine, tightening around him.
Jungwon groans, a long, deep sound that vibrates between your bodies.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, when the ache starts to sing, when the pressure starts to build. When you close your eyes and see stars behind them.
“I know,” he pants, like he feels it too. “It’s okay,” he assures. “I have you.”
It’s a reminder of what brought you here in the first place. And the sound of his voice is all you need.
Keening high in your throat, every muscle, every nerve, every fiber in your body goes taut. Tightens, pulls, before it releases. Jungwon leans down, lips parted against your collarbone as he groans, falling over the same edge only moments after you.
The shower he runs for you is warm, the touch he washes your hair with soothing as he rinses soap from your scalp.
The sheets are soft as you crawl between them, Jungwon’s chest firm as he pulls you tight against him.
“Sleep,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.
Body exhausted, mind sated, it doesn’t take long for you to do as he says. In his arms, the rest that finds you is deep and dreamless.
…..
“Name?” Across from you, the secretary that sits at the front desk looks bored out of her mind. As if she’s seen one too many potential new hires and doesn’t think they’re worth remembering at this point.
You give her your name, and she types a brief note into her computer. Doesn’t bother memorizing it, but you won’t let that get to you, not today.
“You can sit over there.” She gestures towards the row of chairs against the far wall of the reception area. With a smile so tight you think her jaw must hurt, she adds, “I’ll call you when they’re ready.”
It’s not much. It’s barely even polite, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when this is the first real company you’ve stepped foot in in months. When this is the first time you’ve gotten a string of congratulations in the subject line of your email inbox instead of rejections.
Still, it isn’t a sure thing. A test run, the hiring manager had called it. A week of in-person work at the company to see if you’ll be a good fit, if they’re willing to formally offer you a position.
An extension of the already lengthy interview process you’ve been subjected to for the last six weeks. But it’s far more than you’ve gotten from anywhere else.
It’s enough to have hope soaring in your chest, even at the prospect of a week of what is essentially unpaid labor.
Sliding down into the chair, you tug at the sleeve of your blazer, smooth the collar over one final time.
In your mind, you rehearse the answers you gave during your interviews. You’re not sure if you’ll be asked again, but you figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.
You’re interested in the position, because the company’s mission statement excites you. You think it aligns well with your experience and your hopes for a future career.
Are you good with deadlines? Better than nearly everyone you know. Do you work well under pressure? Absolutely. Where do you see yourself in five years? Advancing in your career as a young professional in the same field you earned your degree in. The same field a position at this company would put you in.
As the minutes pass, you remind yourself to breathe, to relax. The butterflies taking flight in your stomach won’t help you now, so you do your best to banish them.
And, minutes later, just as the secretary calls your name, you feel your phone buzz.
Glancing down, you grin at the message that comes through.
You got this, Jungwon says, the small heart next to his contact name shining like a reminder. Knock em dead
And then, beneath it,
Can’t wait to see you tonight beautiful
So, you stand up a little straighter. Shoulders square, chin high. You’re okay, even as your nerves threaten to send your heart beating out of your chest.
No matter what the results of this so-called trial run are, or every single attempt you’ll surely make after it, you’ll be fine. And if you fail, you’ll try again.
Whether this ends in an official offer letter or a bold-faced rejection, no matter what, you have Jungwon—rooting for you, thinking of you, waiting for you to come back and tell him all about it.
Jungwon, your best friend, your favorite person, and probably, if the feelings you’re starting to get whenever he’s near are anything to go by, the love of your life.
You meet the secretary’s gaze, smiling even as all she does is arch a brow. And then you tell her, “I’m ready.”
ʚɞ pairing : nerd!jungwon x f!reader (feat. sunghoon of enhypen, yunah, minju, and wonhee of illit, wonbin of riize)
ʚɞ synopsis : in which yn needs the ultimate distraction to get her toxic ex off her back, and the school's cold academic club president is the prefect candidate for a fake relationship. the terms are strictly business, and the rules are clear. but when things get too real, neither of them know how to continue acting.
ʚɞ genre : fake dating, fluff, highschool!au (not proofread im so sorry)
ʚɞ wc : 14.3k
ʚɞ author's note : finally the long awaited nerd!won ficcccc. im so sry for taking long with this one. i had dozens of ideas for this specific pairing and i ended up switching like three times before finally settling on this one. i apologize if this seems rushed or like fast paced... ALSOO no hate for wonbin, he might be the culprit here but i have nothing against him at all. hope u all enjoy ♡
the words "i just really need to focus on myself right now, yn" were still ringing in your ears.
it had been exactly a week since wonbin sat you down by the school bleachers, looking terribly conflicted, and told you that he just didn't have the emotional bandwidth for a relationship. he claimed his classes were getting heavy, that he was tired of the constant emotional upkeep of dating, and that he needed to find himself.
you had cried. you had felt guilty for taking up his precious time. you had genuinely believed him.
which was exactly why the sight currently unfolding in front of you in the courtyard felt like a literal slap in the face.
there was wonbin. and braced against his side, laughing at something he muttered, was minju. wonbin wasn't looking tired of relationships at all. in fact, he looked perfectly energized as he reached down, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and intertwined his fingers with hers.
"are you kidding me?" your best friend, yunah, hissed from beside you. "he needed to fucking 'focus on himself'? is minju's name 'himself' now?"
your sadness evaporated in a single, scorching second, replaced by a wave of pure fury. your blood ran hot. it wasn't just the heartbreak anymore—it was the humiliation. he had played you for a fool, expecting you to sit around and pine while he easily moved into his next romance without missing a beat.
"he thinks i'm going to be just the sad ex who cries in the bathroom," you muttered, eyes following wonbin as he smiled at something minju said.
"what are you going to do?" yunah asked, looking at you with a mix of worry and excitement. "please tell me we're keying his car."
"no," you said, a dangerous plan instantly forming in your mind. "that gets us suspended. i need to hurt his pride. he thinks he's the best i can do? he think i'm going to spend the next month miserable? i'm going to show him exactly how fast i can move on."
yunah scoffed, "with who? every guy in our circle is friends with him. if you pick one of them, it'll just look like a messy rebound trap."
"then i won't pick someone from our circle," you responded simply.
your eyes scanned past the soccer field, past the popular kids crowding the benches, and landed on the quiet, shaded steps of the old building.
sitting there, completely unfazed by the lunchtime chaos, was yang jungwon.
he wasn't the type of nerd who hid in the back of the class making no eye contact. jungwon was the top of the class, the model student, and the president of the academic club. he was sharply dressed, his school blazer always perfectly pressed, and he carried himself with a quiet confidence that kept people from bothering him.
he was attractive, but in a structured, untouchable way. he simply didn't care about drama, which made him invisible to the popular crowd.
"jungwon?" yunah followed your gaze and gasped. "yang jungwon? the guy who corrected the calculus teacher last week? yn, he doesn't even look at girls. he looks at math equations."
"exactly," you said, a slow smirk spreading across your face. "he's perfect. no one would ever expect it. it'll drive wonbin insane trying to figure out how a guy like jungwon took his place."
"he's never going to agree to it. he doesn't do favors," yunah warned.
"everyone has a price, yunah," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking toward the old building. "i just have to find out what his is."
the old building was completely different from the loud, chaotic courtyard. it smelled like dusty book and whiteboard markers, and the hallway was dead silent.
you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the academic clubroom. the small click of the latch echoed loudly in the silent space.
sitting at the very back table, under the pale glow of the sun, was jungwon. he didn't look up immediately. he was leaning over a massive textbook, a pen moving smoothly across a sheet of grid paper. he looked like the definition of a model student.
you walked over, sneaker squeaking slightly on the floor, and stopped right in front of his desk.
jungwon capped his pen with a quiet click. he slowly lifted his head, sharp eyes blinking once, then twice, as he looked at you. there was no surprise on his face. he didn't get flustered seeing a popular student council member in his quiet room. he just looked at you like you were a minor distraction.
"are you lost?" he asked. his voice was calm and completely flat. "sorry, but this isn't the drama club."
"i'm not lost. i'm exactly where i want to be," you said, crossing your arms and trying to look confident, even though your heart was still hammering from the anger you felt. "i'm here for you, jungwon."
jungwon looked down at his watch, then back up at you. "you have exactly seven minutes left of lunch break. make it quick."
you took a deep breath, deciding to just lay it all out. "i need you to be my fake boyfriend."
the room went silent. jungwon didn't gasp, didn't blush, but stared at you for a long five seconds with his expression blank. then, he picked his pen back up, uncapped it, and looked back down at his book. "no," he answered.
"wait, what? you didn't even let me explain," you protested, leaning your hands on the edge of his desk.
"i don't need an explanation, yn," he responded, writing down another formula without skipping a beat. "playing pretend boyfriend is a waste of time. it doesn't help my grades, it doesn't look good on my college applications, and honestly, i don't care about whatever drama you have going on with wonbin."
your jaw dropped. "how do you even know about wonbin?"
"everyone knows. you guys are loud," he muttered, still not looking at you. "now, please leave. i need to finish this practice test before next period."
you bit your lip. yunah had been right. jungwon wasn't the type of guys you could just charm into doing a favor. he was like a wall of pure logic. but luckily, you had a secret weapon. you let out a soft laugh. "that's a real shame, jungwon. i guess you won't care about the student council's budget meeting next week either."
the pen paused. jungwon didn't move, but you could tell he was listening.
"what are you talking about?" he asked quietly.
"i'm the social media chair for the student council, remember?" you smirked. "i sit in on all the official meetings. yesterday, the treasurer went over the budget requests for next semester. i saw your club was on the list. you asked for quite a lot of money for a national competition and new math software."
jungwon slowly set his pen down and finally looked up. "go on."
"the request got rejected," you pouted, watching his expression carefully. "the treasurer said your club has zero student engagement. nobody joins, nobody comes to your events, and your social media page hasn't been updated since last year. the school thinks your club is dead weight. if things stay like this, they're cutting your funding completely by the end of the month."
his posture stiffened. you could tell this actually hit a nerve. he cared about this club more than anything.
"that's unfair," he frowned. "we do actual work here. we shouldn't lose our budget just because we don't throw parties like the sports teams."
"fair or not, that's how high school works," you replied, tilting your head. "but... i can fix it for you. i know exactly how to make this club look like the place to be. i can create a whole social media campaign, get people talking, and bring in new members. by two or three weeks, your engagement numbers will be so high the school won't have any choice but to give you the money."
jungwon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. he looked at you, eyes scanning your face. "and in exchange, i have to pretend to date you so you can make your ex jealous."
"exactly," you nodded. "a simple trade. i save your club, you help me bruise wonbin's ego. it's a win-win."
jungwon was silent for a moment. you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons. finally, he let out a soft sigh and shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he tore a clean sheet of paper out of his notebook, picked up his pen, and began to write.
"rule number one, no real feelings. this is a deal to get what we both need," he stated. "rule number two, we don't do pda unless it's necessary. and rule number three, don't text me after ten."
he spun the sheet around so it faced you. "sounds fair?" he asked with an easygoing smile plastered on his face.
you stared at the written rules, eyes scanning his neat handwriting. It felt surreal. just ten minutes ago, you were stressing out at your locker, and now you are signing a relationship "contract" with yang jungwon.
"fair," you muttered, picking up the pen and scribbling your signature at the bottom of the page. "but i have one condition to add."
jungwon tilted his head, "which is?"
"if wonbin or any of his friends try to slide a slick comment my way, you can't just stand there and ignore it. you have to actually act like you care," you said, handing the pen back to him. "a real boyfriend wouldn't just let his girlfriend get trash-talked."
jungwon took the pen and didn't hesitate as he wrote Rule #4 : Mutual Defense Protocol at the bottom of the sheet, signing his own name right next to yours.
the bell for the next class suddenly rang through the hallways, breaking the quiet tension in the room. you smiled, taking the pen back from him and stepping toward the door.
"i'll text you tonight, jungwon," you called out with a wink.
as the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind you, a rush of pure satisfaction washed over you. wonbin wanted to see you miserable? he was in for a very rude awakening.
that night, you were lying flat on your back in bed, staring blankly at your bedroom ceiling. the anger from earlier today had faded into a dull, restless energy. your phone buzzed against your stomach, making you flinch.
[yunah] :
did you talk to him?
is the nerd officially on the payroll?
[you] :
it's official!!!!
we signed a literal contract lmao
setting yunah's chat aside, you opened a new message window. you stared at the unsaved phone number jungwon had quickly scribbled on a sticky note before you left the clubroom. your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a minute.
what were you even supposed to say to a guy like jungwon?
you checked the digital clock on your nightstand, a glowing 9:55 p.m. nearly blinding you.
five minutes before his 10 p.m. rule, you thought, a small smirk playing on your lips. you quickly type out a text and hit send
[you] :
hey, it's yn
js checking in to plan out first public appearance
u awake?
you threw the phone face-down on your comforter, fully expecting him to take an hour to reply, or maybe just ignore it until the morning. but barely thirty seconds later, your phone vibrated.
[jungwon] :
Yeah, I'm awake.
Still studying.
You have 5 minutes before rule #3 goes in effect.
you let out a soft laugh, sitting up and leaning against your headboard. he was unbelievable.
[you] :
wow okay direct much
look, tmrw morning is the real test
wonbin always hangs out by the courtyard before the first bell rings
so we need to walk in together
there was a pause. the little typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.
[jungwon] :
Do you want me to meet you at the school gate?
[you] :
yes!!
meet me by the bus stop at 7:45
we walk through the gates together
oh and make sure ur uniform looks nice
not that it doesn't usually
js look like a guy who is happy to see his gf
[jungwon] :
My uniform always looks nice.
And I don't know what a 'happy boyfriend' looks like.
Should I smile?
you stared at the text, completely amused. was he seriously asking for instructions on how to smile?
[you] :
yes jungwon
smiling seems like a good idea when ur dating someone
js act natural
don't look like ur walking to an execution
[jungwon] :
Understood.
I will adjust my expressions accordingly.
you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile growing on your face. he talked like a literal robot, but there was something oddly charming about how seriously he was taking this.
[you] :
perfect :)
see u at 7:45
don't be late!!!!
[jungwon] :
I'm never late.
It's 9:59 PM now.
Goodnight, yn.
The communication window is now closed.
you burst out laughing, staring at the screen as the clock strick exactly 10:00 p.m. you didn't even bother replying, knowing he probably wouldn't read it anyway.
you locked your phone and tossed it onto your nightstand, pulling the blankets up to your chin. for the first time in a week, you didn't go to sleep thinking about wonbin or the hurt in your chest. instead, your mind was completely occupied by a sharp-tongued nerd who was adjusting his schedule to fit you into it.
the next morning, your adrenaline was already running on high. you stood by the bus stop across from the school gates, shifting your weight from foot to foot.
you had spent an extra ten minutes in front of the mirror that morning, making sure your hair looked effortless and your lip tint was perfectly applies. if you were going to debut a new relationship, you had to look flawless.
you checked your phone. 7:44 a.m.
"right on time," a calm voice muttered from behind you.
you jumped slightly, turning around to see jungwon standing there. true to his word, his uniform was immaculate. his tie was perfectly centered, his blazer was buttoned, and his backpack was slung neatly over one shoulder.
"good morning to you too," you greeted. "you didn't sneak up on me on purpose, did you?"
"no. you were just staring at your phone like you were preparing for battle," he pointed out casually. "are you ready? i reviewed the courtyard layout. if your ex sits where he usually does, we'll walk past him."
you stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement bubbling up inside you. "did you seriously map out a route?"
"efficiency is key, yn," he replied simply, but a tiny smirk played at his lips. "let's go."
as you both crossed the street and walked through the grand stone gates of the school, the atmosphere instantly shifted. the courtyard was packed with students chatting, laughing, and ragging their feet before the first bell.
and right there, leaning against the main brick arches just like you predicted, was wonbin. his arm was casually looped around minju's shoulders, laughing loudly at something a guy on the soccer team said.
"don't look at him," jungwon mumbled. "look at me."
you blinked, turning your head to face him. before you could say anything, he reached down. his long fingers slid against yours, his palm warm against your slightly cold skin. he squeezed your hand firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours without a single shred of hesitation.
your heart gave a violent, erratic thud against your ribs. your breath completely hitched in your throat. you looked down at your joined hands, then up at his face in pure shock.
rule number two, you thought wildly. no unnecessary touching.
jungwon didn't look flustered at all. he just leaned down slightly, tilting his head toward yours, a calm smile plastered on his face. "smile," he muttered. "you're supposed to happy, remember?"
up close, you noticed how clear his eyes were, and you could smell the faint scent of fresh laundry soap that drifted off his uniform. your hand in his felt steady, sending a warm tingle up your arm.
you didn't even have to fake the smile anymore—a genuine, slightly breathless laugh escaped your lips. right on cue, jungwon let out a soft chuckle too, his eyes crinkling at the corners. to anyone else looking, you two looked like a couple completely wrapped up in their own world, holding hands on a crisp morning.
"hey, isn't that...?" a voice from a distance said.
the loud laughter around the arches abruptly stopped. you risked a glance past jungwon's shoulder.
wonbin was staring directly at your joined hands. his arm had completely dropped from minju's shoulder. his jaw was tight, eyes slightly wide with utter confusion and irritation as he watched the school's top model student holding hands with his fresh ex-girlfriend. the look of bruised pride on his face was a work of art.
"target acquired," jungwon whispered, a sharp little dimple popping up on his cheek as he noticed wonbin's reaction. "he looks like he just swallowed a lemon."
you laughed out loud this time, feeling a massive wave of triumph wash over your chest. "you're a natural at this, jungwon."
"don't get used to it," he replied quietly.
even though you had completely walked past wonbin and entered the main hallway where the crowd thinned out, jungwon didn't immediately drop your hand. his fingers stayed securely locked with yours, his warm palm grounding as he walked you all the way to your classroom door.
only when you reached your desk did he finally let go, sliding his hand casually into his blazer pocket.
"see you at lunch, yn," he said with a small nod before turning on his heel.
by the time the fourth period bell rang, your phone was buzzing nonstop from the amount of notifications you received. yunah had texted you in all caps at least fifteen times, and a few people your wider social circle had subtly tried to ask if the rumors were true.
but the most satisfying notification was the one that didn't matter anymore. wonbin had posted a strangely moody quote on his private story. it was working.
you wrapped up your student council duties a few minutes early and headed toward the cafeteria. the loud room was already packed to the brim with students buying food, gossiping, and trading seats.
you scanned the room, eyes automatically bypassing the middle section where the popular kids and athletes usually crowded. instead, you looked toward the quiet tables near the windows.
there jungwon was, sitting alone at a four-person table, his back straight a neat bento box open in front of him. true to form, he had a small book propped up against his water bottle, his eyes scanning the words while he chewed. he looked isolated form the rest of the noisy cafeteria. at least until you walked over.
the moment you pulled out the chair across from him, you could feel the eyes burning into your back.
jungwon didn't look up immediately. he calmly chewed on his food, swallowed, and then closed his book with a quiet snap. "you're late by two minutes," he said.
"i had to drop off some paperwork at the council room." you explained, sitting down and setting your lunch tray on the table. you leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice. "did you see the hallway earlier? people are literally staring at us right now.
"i noticed. three different people in my homeroom asked me if i was being blackmailed. one of them asked if you were holding my grades hostage."
you choked on your milk, letting out a sudden laugh. "are you serious? what did you tell them?"
"i told them you fell for my brains," jungwon replied smoothly. "it seemed like the most believable lie."
before you could respond, a shadow fell over your table.
"yn?"
you froze, looking up to see wonbin standing at the edge of your table. he didn't have minju with him this time. he was alone, holding an energy drink, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a tight frown. he looked out of place standing near the quiet window tables.
"hey, wonbin," you said, keeping your voice steady. "can i help you with something?"
wonbin's eyes darted sharply from you to jungwon, who was currently taking a slow sip of his water, acting as if wonbin were invisible. "can we talk for a second? privately?" he asked, voice dropping as he leaned in slightly. "i just... i saw you this morning. with him. is this some kind of joke?"
"a joke?" you tilted your head, letting out an amused smile. "why would it be a joke?"
"because it's him," he hissed, pointing a finger vaguely toward jungwon. "i broke up with you last week, yn. you told me you were devastated. and now you're suddenly holding hands with the president of the academic club? it doesn't make any sense."
your blood started to run hot. the sheer nerve of this guy—who had literally replaced you—questioning your timeline was infuriating. you opened your mouth to snap back, but before a single word could leave your lips, someone else spoke up.
"it makes perfect sense if you could think logically."
jungwon's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, cutting right through wonbin's words. jungwon set his water bottle down on the table with a firm thud. he didn't look angry. if anything, he looked entitely bored, which made it ten times worse for wonbin's ego.
wonbin snapped his gaze to jungwon. "what did you just say?"
"i said it's simple, wonbin," jungwon repeated, leaning back in his chair. "she was wasting her time with a guy who couldn't balance his own life, so she upgraded to someone who can. you told her you were too tired and busy for a relationship, right? well, i have plenty of time. especially for her."
you stared at jungwon, jaw dropping slightly. you had forgotten about the rule you had added yesterday. he wasn't just acting. he was completely shutting wonbin down with a calm precision that left no room for argument.
wonbin's face turned a deep shade of red. he opened his mouth to say something slick, but jungwon didn't give him the chance.
jungwon reached across the small table, his warm fingers gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand into his. he didn't look at wonbin anymore, he just looked directly at you as his thumb lightly brushed against the back of your knuckles in a way that felt entirely unscripted.
"eat your lunch, yn," jungwon murmured, voice softening just enough to make your heart skip a beat.
wonbin stood there for three agonizing seconds, looking back and forth between your hands and jungwon's face. realizing he had completely lost this round, he let out and angry curse under his breath and stormed back to his friends.
your eyes locked on jungwon, who was already letting go of your hand and picking up his chopsticks.
"rule number four," he added quietly. "mutual defense protocol. did i do okay?"
you swallowed, heart hammering against your rips for a whole different reason than revenge. "uh, yeah. you did perfect."
that evening, after the final plan, your brain was completely fried. you packed your bags and walked down to the school library, which was mostly empty except for a few students studying for exams.
you found jungwon tucked away in the very back corner. he already had his laptop open, a neat notebook placed beside it, and, to your surprise, two plastic cup sitting on the wooden table. one was a plain iced americano, and the other was a cold strawberry milk.
you pulled out the chair across from him and dropped your bag onto the floor. "is that for me?" you questioned, pointing at the strawberry milk.
his hand reached out and lightly pushed the cup toward you. "you didn't get to finish yours at lunch because of the interruption. i factored it into my budget for the day," he said. your heart did a tiny flip. you picked up the sweet drink, the cold plastic cooling down your warm hands. "thanks, jungwon. that's so sweet of you."
"don't read into it," he looked up at you. "if my fake girlfriend looks miserable and dehydrated, the rumors won't hold up. now, show me what we're working with."
you rolled your eyes as you sat down and pulled out your tablet. "alright, mr. logic. let's look at your club's official page."
for the next two hours, the school drama completely melted away. you showed jungwon the analytics, pointing out how the club's old posts were just blocks of boring text and blurry photos of whiteboards.
"see? no one wants to read a text wall of theories on their feed," you pointed out, leaning over the table to give him a clearer view. "we need aesthetic shots. soft lighting, candid photos of you guys studying, maybe some fun short videos. we need to make your club look like a cozy place to hang out."
jungwon watched your fingers move across the screen, listening intently. you noticed how focused he was. he didn't interrupt you once. he actually respected your expertise the same way you respected his intelligence.
"i see," he mumbled. he looked up and for a second, he just stared at you. "you're actually really good at this."
"of course i am," you whispered back, suddenly feeling a little breathless from how close he was sitting. "i don't just post selfies, jungwon. i know what i'm doing."
"clearly," he said softly. he cleared his throat and leaned back, breaking the intense eye contact. "the library closes in ten minutes. we should continue this over the weekend. there's a quiet café near the subway station. meet me there on saturday noon?"
"a saturday date?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "is that allowed under the contract?"
and on saturday, the café was warm and smelled heavily of roasted coffee beans. it was a rainy afternoon, the drops tapping softly against the windows. you walked in wearing an oversized sweater and jeans, scanning the room until you spotted a familiar dark-haired boy sitting by the window.
jungwon was wearing a casual black hoodie, looking different without his stiff school uniform, he looked softer, and incredibly handsome.
as you approached the table, he looked up form his book. his eyes blinked, tracking you for a second, and his usual calm expression faltered just a tiny bit. he closed his book shut with a snap.
"hey," you smiled. "have you been waiting long?"
"no, just a few minutes," he answered, voice a little softer than usual. he cleared his throat, eyes lingering on your sweater before meeting your gaze. "you... look nice today. the sweater looks pretty on you."
your cheeks instantly flared up with a sudden, warm blush. you sat down quickly, trying to his your flustered face by adjusting your bag. "oh. thanks, jungwon. i didn't think you noticed things like clothes."
"just being observant," he murmured, a tiny bit of pink dusting the tip of his ears as he looked down at his coffee cup. "you're not wearing your blazer," you noted. he squinted his eyes playfully. "it's the weekend. even i don't wear uniform to bed."
you let out a genuine chuckle. "good to know," you said. "i kind of pictured you sleeping in a three-piece suit with a calculator in hand."
his shoulder shook a little as he laughed. "i'm a regular person, yn. i don't just eat, sleep, and breathe math equations."
as the afternoon passed, your laptops surprisingly stayed in your bags. you meant to work on the social media layout, but instead, you found yourself just talking.
you learned that jungwon disliked spicy food, loved listening to indie music, and was fiercely protective of his older sister. in return, you found yourself telling him about how stressed you were about your upcoming student council elections, and how much you feared failing people's expectations.
jungwon listened to you talk, his chin resting in his hand, eyes never leaving your face. there was no audience here. wonbin wasn't around to see. but jungwon was dialed in.
"you worry too much about what everyone else thinks," he commented quietly, breaking a short silence. his voice was gentle. "you're smart, and you work harder than anyone else in that council. you don't need to prove anything to people who don't matter."
you stared at him, heart skipping a massive beat. the smile he usually had was gone, replaced by a look of pure sincerity.
"thanks," you murmured, suddenly feeling very warm despite the chilly rain outside.
he blinked, suddenly realizing how intense the mood had gotten. he swallowed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "it's... 4:30 already. we've been here for a while."
"we didn't even talk about the social media plan," you realized, looking at your bag.
jungwon stood up, pulling his hoodie over his head a bit more as he grabbed his things. he looked down at you, that small smirk returning to his face. "that's fine. we can call it a successful team-building exercise. see you on monday."
the next monday morning brought a weird, buzzing energy. sitting in third-period english class, you kept finding your eyes drifting toward the middle row where jungwon sat for it was the only class you had with him. but every time you remembered how soft he looked with his hoodie, or the way he murmured "the sweater looks pretty on you," your stomach did a little flutter.
"alright, quiet down," the teacher called out, clapping her hands. "for the next two weeks, we'll be doing a literature analysis project. i've already assigned your partners. look at the board."
a collective groan echoed through the room. you scanned the screen until you found your name.
yn and park sunghoon.
you blinked. sunghoon was one of wonbin's close friends from the varsity sports circle. he was effortlessly handsome, highly popular, and incredibly charismatic.
before you could even process it, sunghoon slid into the empty set next to you with a charming look on his face.
"hey, partner," he muttered, leaning his elbow on your desk. he leaned in a little closer than necessary. "looks like we're stuck together. don't worry about the heavy lifting, though, i'll handle the writing if you handle the presentation. deal?"
"oh. yeah, sure," you nodded, pulling your chair back a tiny bit to create some space. "that works."
"perfect," sunghoon pulled out his phone, sliding it across your desk with grin. "type your number in. you know, so we can... collaborate after hours."
across the classroom, the sharp snap of a lead pencil breaking echoed quietly.
you didn't notice, but it was jungwon's pencil. he stared down at his notebook, jaw tight as he stared at the broken piece of graphite. he didn't understand why his chest suddenly felt tight, or why he felt and urge to throw his notebook at the back sunghoon's head.
it's just an english project, jungwon told himself. she can talk to whoever she wants.
but as sunghoon leaned even closer, laughing at a quiet comment you made, jungwon's grip on his pen tightened until his knuckles turned white.
the moment the bell rang for lunch, sunghoon stood up, giving you a wink. "text me later."
as sunghoon walked out, jungwon was on his feet. he marched right up your desk, grabbing your bag before you could even reach for it. "hey!" you gasped. jungwon didn't say a word. he only gripped the strap, face an unreadable mask of irritation as he pulled out out into the hallway.
"jungwon, what's wrong with you?" you asked, trying to keep up with his fast strides as he led you toward the quieter hallway near the student council storage lockers. "why are you acting like this?"
he stopped abruptly, turning around to face you. "rule number four."
"what?"
"mutual defense protocol," he continued. "sunghoon is wonbin's friend. he was crowding your space on purpose to test the waters. a real boyfriend wouldn't just sit there and let another guy hit on his girlfriend right in front of him."
your frown deepened. "he was just asking for my number for the project, jungwon. were you... jealous?"
"i don't get jealous, yn. it's a useless emotion," he snapped quickly, though a faint hint of red rushed up his neck. "i'm simply executing the terms of our contract with the best i could give."
"right. the contract," you mumbled, feeling a sudden drop in your stomach.
the rest of the school day passed in a complete blur. but no matter how hard you tried to focus on your remaining classes, your mind kept looping back to the tight grip jungwon had on your bag and the tense tone of his voice.
you were still trying to untangle those thoughts after the final bell rang, having volunteered to help the council organize the old sports equipment storage room. you had also offered to lock up the room.
you clicked the padlock shut and turned around, only to freeze.
wonbin was standing at the end of the hall, hands stuffed into his pockets. he had been waiting for you.
"yn," he said, stepping forward. without his friends around, he looked less confident, but his voice still carried that annoying edge. "we need to talk."
"we have nothing to talk about, wonbin," you replied coldly before trying to walk past him.
wonbin stepped into your path, blocking the exit. "come on, stop playing games. i saw how sunghoon was looking at you during class today. and then the nerd dragged you out like he owned you. are you really going to keep up this pathetic act?"
"it's not an act," you snapped through gritted teeth, temper flaring.
"please," he scoffed, letting out a condescending laugh. "we both know you're just using him to get back at me. yang jungwon? the guy doesn't even know how to hold a conversation unless it's about studies. he's completely dry, yn. a girl like you is going to get bored of a robot like him in a week. he doesn't actually care about you. he probably doesn't even know how to care about someone."
the words stung, mostly because a small, insecure part of your brain feared he was right. you opened your mouth to yell at him, but a heavy step echoed from the stairwell.
"i know exactly how to care for what's mine," a voice cut through the tension.
you turned your head. jungwon walked out of the shadows of the stairwell. his blazer was unbuttoned, making him look surprisingly imposing. his face was completely devoid of its usual smirk. his eyes were pure, dark ice.
wonbin narrowed his eyes. "oh, look. the bodyguard arrived."
jungwon didn't even acknowledge wonbin's sarcasm. he walked straight past him, stopping right in front of you. before you could say a word, jungwon reached out. his hand slid firmly around your waist, strong fingers gripping your hip and pulling you flush against his side.
your breath caught completely in your throat. you were pressed so close to him you could feel the thud of his heartbeat. his touch was heavy and warm.
"i told you before, wonbin. my time is completely clear for her," jungwon repeated, voice dangerously low and quiet in the empty hallway. "that means i don't appreciate you cornering my girlfriend in empty halls. and i definitely don't appreciate a guy who couldn't even keep her loyalty trying to lecture me on how to treat her."
wonbin's jaw clenched, fists tightening in his pockets. he looked at jungwon's hand securely wrapped around your waist, then at how closely you were leaning to jungwon's chest. the dominance coming off jungwon was something wonbin clearly hadn't calculated.
"whatever," he backed down as his pride took another massive hit. "have fun with your charity case, yn." he turned on his heel and stormed out the back doors, slamming them behind him.
but jungwon didn't let you go.
his hand stayed firmly on your waist, keeping you anchored against him. you slowly lifted your head, eyes meeting his. his dark eyes were wide, his breathing a little shallow.
"jungwon..." you whispered, heart hammering wildly against your chest. "wonbin's gone. you can let go now."
jungwon stared down at your lips, then back up to your eyes. his fingers twitched against your waist, tightening just the littlest bit instead of releasing you. for a terrifying, beautiful second, it looked like he was going to lean down.
then, he blinked, as if suddenly waking up from a trance. he abruptly pulled his hand back, stepping half a foot away from you. he ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered for the first time since you met him.
"right," he muttered, voice slightly strained as he stared at the floor. "i'll walk you to the bus stop."
as you walked beside him in silence, you realized with absolute certainty that rule number one—no real feelings—was dead. and the scariest part?
you think jungwon knew it too.
the atmosphere in the academic clubroom the next afternoon was heavy with awkwardness. after the hallway incident yesterday, neither of you had quite figured out how to look each other in the eye.
"okay," you clapped your hands together to break the ice and setting your digital camera on the main table. "if we want to save the club's digital footprint, we need content. and since you're the club president, you will be the model."
jungwon, who had been neatly stacking books, froze. he looked at you with widened eyes. "model? yn, i am an academic competitor. i don't 'model.'"
"you do now," you smirked, pulling out a chair. "sit down. prop an open textbook in front of you and... i don't know, pretend you're reading. but look casual. don't grip the pen too tight."
jungwon let out a defeated sigh that puffed out his cheeks, but he followed your instructions anyway. he saw down, opened a thick calculus book, and gripped his pencil.
but the moment you raised the camera to your eye and looked through the viewfinder, his entire body locked up. his shoulders went completely rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly a small muscle feathered in his cheek, and he stared down at the pages like he was trying to burn a hole through the paper.
you lowered the camera, giggling. "jungwon, you look like you're under interrogation. relax your shoulders. look up at me."
he lifted his gaze. "i am relaxed. this is my studying posture."
"you look like a statue," you teased, stepping closer to the table. you leaned down slightly, the scent of his laundry soap drifting over you. "come on, yang jungwon. where's that smirk you always give me when you're quoting the contract or correcting my data? give me a little bit of that."
and for a second, his exterior completely cracked. a sudden, genuine laugh broke through his stiff expression, eyes crinkling tightly at the corners and that unmistakable dimple showing on his right cheek.
click.
"perfect!" you cheered, pulling the camera back to quickly check the screen. "see? look how good you look when you actually smile."
curiosity getting the better of him, jungwon stood up and walked around the table to stand right beside you. he leaned in close to peer at the tiny screen, his shoulder pressing firmly against yours. you could feel the heat radiating off his uniform blazer, the distance making your breath hitch.
"i look... strange," he murmured, voice low and vibrating right next to your ear.
but when you looked at him. he wasn't looking at the camera screen anymore. he was looking down at your profile, sharp eyes tracing the line of your jaw, completely focused. you swallowed, "you don't look strange. you look handsome, jungwon. the school's going to love it."
he cleared his throat, stepping back just a bit, though his eyes remained fixed on you. "if you say so. send me the drafts tonight. we need to approve the text before publishing."
"actually," you turned to face him and tapped the chair next to you. "sit. we'll filter them together right now. it saves us time."
jungwon hesitated for a split second before sitting on the chair so close that your knees occasionally brushed under the table. for the next thirty minutes, the fake relationship and the school drama completely faded into the background.
"no, we can't use that harsh white lighting," you argued, tilting the screen toward him. "it looks cold. we need a warm tone. it makes the club look cozy, like a place people actually want to spend their afternoons."
as you adjusted the settings to the picture, jungwon stayed quiet. unbeknownst to you, he was watching you rather than the camera. his head was tilted slightly, a soft expression settling over his face.
"see," you pointed at the results. "it looks comfortable somehow."
you turned your head only to find his eyes already locked on you. your fingers froze on the camera buttons. there was no audience here. wonbin wasn't hiding in the hallway, and there were no rumors to protect in an empty clubroom. but the way he was looking at you felt entirely unscripted.
he blinked furiously. "it's getting late. we should head out before the janitor locks the building."
"uh... yeah," you broke eye contact, glancing everywhere but him. and as you packed your camera into your bag, your hands were shaking just a little.
when you walked together out of the front doors, the sky had already turned a pretty shade of orange, the evening air cool against your skin after spending time in the warm room.
neither of spoke for the first few minutes, just walking side-by-side toward the main gates. but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. your shoulders occasionally brushed as you walked, and every time they did, a tiny spark of electricity seemed to bounce between you.
"the photos really turned out well," jungwon broke the silence as you both turned onto the sidewalk leading to the bus stop. "you're smart with that stuff."
"thanks," you smiled, glancing at him. "i just know what people like to see. i'll edit the best ones when i get home and type up some caption ideas."
"sounds good," he nodded, stopping as you both finally reached the bus stop shelter. "but don't send them to me via text. the quality drops too much."
you tilted your head. "then how should i show you?"
jungwon gulped, eyes briefly darting away to look at the street before meeting your gaze again. "just... video call me. facetime. that way you can share your screen and show me the edits in real-time."
you bit your lip to hid a grin. "okay. what time? you have that ten p.m. rule, remember?"
"let's do ten-thirty," jungwon said smoothly with a playful glint in his eyes. "i'll give us an official extension for club business. don't be late."
"i won't," you laughed.
right on cue, the loud hiss of brakes signaled the arrival of your bus. the large vehicle pulled up to the curb, its door sliding open with a heavy rattle. you gripped the strap of your backpack, suddenly feeling reluctant to leave. "well, that's my bus. i'll see you on screen at ten-thirty, jungwon."
"yeah," he muttered. "get home safely, yn."
you gave him one final wave, stepped onto the bus, and scanned your transit card. as the bus pulled away from the curb, you looked out the window. jungwon was still standing under the shelter, hands by his sides, waiting for your bus to leave.
by the time you arrived home, finished showering, changed into your pajamas, and ate a quick dinner, the clock on your desk read 10:20 p.m. you sat on your bed, propping your laptop on your knees and opening the editing software. the photos from earlier looked even better on the larger screen. jungwon's genuine smile radiated warmth.
you kept glancing at the bottom right corner of your screen, watching the minutes tick by.
10:27.
10:28.
10:29.
the exact second the clock flipped to 10:30 p.m., your phone began to buzz loudly against your comforter. the screen lit up with an upcoming video call from jungwon.
a nervous flutter erupted in your stomach. you quickly shook out your hair, took a deep breath, and pressed the green button to answer.
the screen stabilized, and your breath caught in your throat. jungwon was sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning back against a pile of neat gray pillows. he looked entirely different from his daytime self. he was in a plain, fitted back tank top that made his shoulders look broad.
but the thing that made your heart skip a massive beat was his face—he was wearing a pair of round, thick-rimmed glasses that you had never seen before.
he looked devastatingly attractive.
"hey," he said. his voice sounded deeper and a little sleepy through the phone speaker. "let's just go straight to the photos."
for the next forty-five minutes, you worked together, but it felt cozy. you walked him through the aesthetic choices, zooming in on the warm, golden filters you had applied to the photos. and after a while, you finally wrote the perfect caption.
[STUDENT MEDIA EXCLUSIVE] Big things are happening! The Academic Club is hosting an Open House next Thursday after school in the Academic Clubroom. You won't want to miss what our Club President, Yang Jungwon, had in store. See you there! (Spoiler Alert : There will be snacks!)
"it's actually not that bad," he tilted his head.
"see? i told you to trust me," you teased before turning off the screen share. you rested your chin on your hand and stared at him on your screen. "i know what i'm doing."
the line went quiet for a moment. you could hear the faint sound of your air conditioner humming. you couldn't stop looking at his glasses. "you look different with those glasses," you pointed out. "i didn't know you needed them."
he tapped the side of his glasses. "i only wear them at night when my eyes are tired from reading. do they... look weird?"
"no," you whispered honestly. "they look really good on you, jungwon. you look soft."
through the screen, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. he looked away from the camera for a second. when he looked back at you, his eyes were gentle. "thank you."
he glanced at the clock on his wall, "it's eleven-fifteen. you should sleep. we have classes tomorrow, anyway."
and the next morning, the school was quiet as you walked through the main doors. it was still early, so the hallways weren't packed yet. only a few students were standing by their lockers, talking low voices. your shoes made soft tapping sounds as you walked toward the locker area.
you turned the corner and spotted a familiar figure standing there. he was already dressed perfectly in his uniform, school bag hanging neatly.
but as you got closer, you stopped in your tracks. your eyes widened.
jungwon had turned his head to look at you, and your jaw nearly dropped. he looked normal with his school uniform, but resting on the bridge of his nose were the exact same glasses he had worn on the video call last night.
in the bright, morning sunlight streaming through the windows, he looked breathtaking. the glasses softened his sharp features, making him look less like the untouchable top student and more like... a boy you could actually reach.
"jungwon?" you blinked, staring up at his face. "you're wearing your glasses. i thought you only wore them at night in your room."
jungwon's eyes darted around the hallway for a split second, a sudden hint of shyness passing over his face. he lifted his hand and adjusted the thick frames with his index finger, a faint pink blush creeping up his neck and dusting the tips of his ears.
"well, i did read this morning," he mumbles, his voice still a little scratchy. he looked down at you, dark eyes staring into your behind the lenses. "and... someone told me last night that they looked good. i decided to test the theory in daylight."
your heart did a joyful backflip. he had actually worn them to school just because you liked them.
before you could even think of a response, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. a group of people were walking down, laughing loudly and talking to each other.
suddenly, jungwon stepped to you. he didn't hesitate or look back. he closed the distance between your bodies, blocking the view of your face.
then he reached out. his hand rose slowly, his long, warm fingers gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. his touch didn't pull away immediately. instead, his knuckled lingered against the soft skin of your cheek, brushing against it with a tender warmth. he leaned down, bringing his face so close to yours that you could see the tiny reflection of yourself in his lenses.
"morning, pretty," he murmured. his voice was just loud enough for the passing students to hear, making sure everyone knew exactly who you belonged to. but his eyes were completely focused on you. "did you sleep well?"
you were so flustered, he had never used a pet name before. "y-yeah," you managed to whisper, your hands tightly gripping the straps of your backpack. "i slept well. did you?"
jungwon's eyes softened, and a knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. he clearly enjoyed how shy you had become under his touch. "i did," he whispered back, his thumb giving your cheek one last gentle pat before he finally pulled his hand away. he didn't step back, though. he stayed standing right next to you, free hand nearly touching yours as he reached out to close his locker.
at lunchtime, your phone nearly melted in your blazer due to the stream of notifications you received. the caption you and jungwon finalized the night before, along with that gorgeous photo of him smiling had gone completely viral across the school.
as you walked down the hallway to head to the cafeteria, you didn't even need to look at your screen to know it was a hit. the chatter was everywhere.
"did you see the post about the academic club? since when is jungwon that handsome?" a sophomore girl squealed to her friend by the water fountain.
"look at his smile in that picture. the lighting makes him look like an idol," another student whispered, holding up her phone. "i'm definitely going to that open house just to see him."
you bit your lip, a proud smile tucking at your lips. your vision for the club page had worked perfectly.
when you walked into the cafeteria, you spotted jungwon sitting at his usual table. he looked totally overwhelmed, shoulders tense as he stared down at his phone with a look of disbelief. every few seconds, a a girl walking past his table would look over, giggle, or wave. jungwon would give them a stiff nod before looking back down at his screen.
the second you slid into the plastic seat across him, he looked up. his eyes screamed for help.
"yn," he sighed heavily. "my phone has been ringing since first period. the club's follower count increased by four hundred percent in less than twelve hours. what exactly did you do to that photo?"
"i didn't do anything crazy," you laughed, picking up your spoons. "i just told you the truth. i know how to make things look good. people love seeing a softer side of the scary top student. look at the comments!"
jungwon looked down at his screen again, thumb scrolling through the comments sections. "someone commented that they are skipping dance practice next thursday to attend our open house."
"see! everyone loves it. it's hype," you teased. then, your eyes drifted past his shoulder. "and speaking of hype... look behind you."
jungwon turned his head slightly. across the cafeteria, sitting at the big center table, was wonbin. he was surrounded by his circle, but he wasn't eating. he was staring directly at his phone with a furious expression, jaw clenched tightly. sunghoon was next to him, teasing him abouy how much attention your "nerd boyfriend" was getting.
wonbin looked up, his angry eyes moving to you and jungwon sitting together.
jungwon didn't flinch. he turned back around to face you, the lenses of his glasses catching the bright light. a smile spread across his face.
"your marketing logic is flawless, partner," he praised. he leaned forward a bit, eyes twinkling. "you completely ruined him without saying a single word to him. i have to admit, it's great work."
"hey, we're a team," you smiled, your heart fluttering at the word partner. "we're just getting started."
jungwon let out a quiet laugh, but then he paused. he looked down at his phones, scrolling through the comments again, and a sudden look of realization crossed his face. he tapped his fingers against the plastic table, clearly thinking about something.
"right, so... we might have a bit of a problem for next thursday," he said, looking at you.
"a problem?" you raised your eyebrows, pausing with your food. "what's wrong?"
"based on the likes and comments on the post, a ton of people are actually planning to show up to our open house," he explained. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "the club's current snack supply is only three tea bags and a half-empty box of crackers. we don't have anything to give them."
you let out a rather loud laugh. "so the genius president remembers everything but the snacks?"
"well, i didn't expect so many people to care," jungwon defended himself quickly. his voice then dropped to a whisper. "i really need your help. if i go alone, i'll probably just buy plain crackers and bottled water. i have no idea what kind of snacks people actually want. will you come to the supermarket with me after school?"
a grocery store run. it sounded so sweet and domestic—like something a real boyfriend and girlfriend would do together on a random afternoon.
"an official snack mission?" you cocked an eyebrow.
he smiled at you, the dimple yet again showing on his cheek as he nodded. "exactly. i'll wait for you by the lockers later."
true to his word, jungwon was waiting by your locker after school, already there after you exited your classroom. he had his school slung over a shoulder, his uniform unbuttoned, and those glasses were still resting perfectly on his nose. "ready?" he questioned, a welcoming smile lighting up his face the second he saw you walking up. "ready," you grinned back.
when you stepped through the automatic glass doors of the supermarket, the cool, air-conditioned air hit your face. jungwon walked over to the neatly lined rows of shopping carts. he pulled one out and pushed it over to you, gripping the plastic handle with both hands.
"alright, guide me," he said, glancing around at the brightly lit aisles. "where do we start?"
"we need sweet things and salty things," you mentioned, taking the lead and walking toward the snack aisle. "since it's an event after school, people will be hungry after classes."
as you reached the chip area, he stopped and stared at the massive wall of colorful bags, looking completely lost. he tilted his head with a small frown. "there are too many options," he muttered, reaching out to pick up a bag of unsalted potato chips. "how about these?"
"no way," you chuckled, gently taking the bag out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf. "nobody wants plain chips. we need the spicy ones and the sour cream and onion ones."
you grabbed three large bags of the popular spicy chips and dropped them into the cart. "this is exactly why i brought you," he murmured. "left to my own devices, people would have hated me."
"they wouldn't hate you. they'd just think you're some kind of robot," you teased.
"ouch," he laughed quietly, playing along by placing a hand on his chest.
as you moved over to another aisle, you spotted a specific brand of chocolate-covered strawberries in the refrigerator—your favorite treat. you lingered in front of the glass door for a second, staring at them, but decided not to grab them since they weren't exactly "club snacks."
you turned back around to help jungwon choose some juice boxes and soda cans. jungwon was focused, carefully checking the prices and quantities, making sure there would be enough. it was cute seeing how seriously he took his role as president, even when it came to buying juice.
while you were busy comparing the orange juice brands, jungwon quietly stepped aside for a brief moment. you didn't think much of it until he walked back, pushing the cart with a straight face.
you looked down into the cart and nearly gasped. right on top of the soda boxes was the exact container of chocolate-covered strawberries you had been looking at earlier.
"jungwon?" you looked at him, heart doing a flutter. "what is this?"
jungwon bit the inside of his cheek, eyes darting to the side before locking back with yours. a red tint crept up his cheeks, contrasting beautifully with his dark hair. "i noticed you looking at them," he answered softly, voice a gentle register. he adjusted his glasses, looking a little shy but sincere. "consider it an extra payment for your excellent marketing services. and... because you worked hard. you deserve it."
you stared at him, speechless. here, there was nothing and no one for him to perform for. he had bought them simply because he saw you wanted them.
"thank you," you whispered, a massive smile spreading across your face.
"don't mention it," he murmured, the corners of his lips tucking up into a sweet smile. "let's go pay."
after paying for the massive bags of chips, juice boxes, soda cans, and your favorite chocolate strawberries, you and jungwon walked back to the school. it was completely quiet now, the hallways empty and peaceful in the dim evening light.
you both entered the academic clubroom and dumped the heavy plastic bags onto the main wooden table.
"wow," you sighed, stretching your arms out as you sat down on a chair. "that was a workout. at least we won't starve next thursday."
"indeed. the inventory is now full," jungwon grinned. he began organizing the juice boxes into a straight line on the shelf, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.
watching him look so focused, you couldn't help but think about how much things had changed. you leaned your chin on your hand, staring at him. "you know, jungwon... you're actually being really nice about all of this. aren't you tired of dealing with my school drama?"
jungwon paused, a juice box still in hand. he turned to face you, leaning his hip against the shelf. "it's part of our arrangement," he replied. "the deal is to maintain the image of a couple to hurt wonbin's ego."
"i know," you murmured, playing with the edge of your blazer. "but we've only really been seen together at school. do you think people actually believe it? wonbin looks mad, sure. but i feel like he's waiting for us to slip up."
jungwon walked over to the table and sat on the chair right next to yours. he leaned a little closer. "i've been thinking about that too, actually," he admitted. "if we only hang out before classes and in the cafeteria, it looks a bit too convenient. real couples don't just exist inside the school. they also do things on the weekends."
you tilted your head, confusion washing over your expression. "what do you mean?"
"i mean we should take this outside of school," he shrugged, looking straight into your eyes. "we should go on a fake date this saturday. like the street festival downtown. we can take some photos together, post them on your personal feed, and give the people undeniable proof."
your stomach flipped. a date? even if it's fake?
"a weekend date?" you repeated. "just for the photos?"
"for visual evidence," jungwon nodded easily, though you noticed his ears turning a little red. "it'll completely solidify the narrative. it's the most logical next step for the contract."
you smiled, seeing right through his logic-talk. he was just as nervous as you were. "alright, president. if it's for the contract, i guess i can clear my saturday schedule for you."
and that saturday afternoon, the sun was bright when you met jungwon outside the train station. the plan for the day was simple, written down neatly in your shared document. since the open house was only a few days away, you needed a few casual but cute photos of the two of you out on a date to keep the rumors alive.
you were adjusting the strap of your digital camera when you heard footsteps.
"am i late?"
you looked up, and your heart did that familiar thud. jungwon was standing there, wearing a light gray knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, dark jeans, and clean white sneakers. and of course, not forgetting the glasses.
"right on time," you smiled, tucking your camera into your bag. "you look good today, president."
jungwon's eyes crinkled as a small smirk touched his lips. "you don't look too bad yourself, partner. let's go. the street festival is just two blocks away."
the festival was packed with people and filled with the smell of fried food, loud music, and colorful booths. for the first hour, you focused on the mission. you took photos of jungwon holding a snack, and he took photos of you smiling by a flower stall.
"we have enough options," jungwon said, leaning over your shoulder to look at the camera screen. "sure, but we need one together! come closer," you suggested, turning the camera toward both of your faces.
just as you were about to click the button, a loud voice cut through the crowd.
"wait, yn? jungwon?"
you both froze and turned around. standing there with a cup of iced tea was wonhee, a girl from your homeroom class who loved school gossip. perfect. her eyes were wide with excitement as she looked at the two of you. "oh my gosh, it is you guys! so you guys are actually dating?"
your breath hitched. but before you could panic further, jungwon moved. he didn't hesitate for a single second. he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you so your bodies were flushed together. his hand rested on your hip. "hey, wonhee," he greeted. he then glanced down at you with a gaze so sweet it made your brain short-circuit. "yeah, we wanted to spend some time together away from school today."
wonhee squealed. "wow, jungwon, ive never seen you look at anyone like that. you guys look so cute together!"
"thank you," you said, playing along. you leaned into his chest, resting your head on his sweater right over his heart. you could hear it beating fast against your ear. "we're just having a fun day."
"i won't ruin your date, promise. see you on monday!" she giggled, waving as she disappeared back into the crowd.
the second she was gone, jungwon's hand stayed on your waist for a long beat, thumb brushing against your side. when he finally stepped back, his neck was red. "that was a close call," he looked anywhere but at your face. "good acting."
"yeah," you mumbled, skin still tingling where his hand had been. "you too."
after that, your camera stayed in your bag. the "acting" had felt a little too real, and the rest of the afternoon, you both forgot about the deal entirely.
you dragged him over to a shooting gallery booth, where an adorable plush cat was hanging. "watch and learn, mr. president," you teased, confidently paying the booth vendor and lifting the plastic toy rifle. you took careful aim at the small targets, fired three times, and missed every single shot.
jungwon let out a quiet chuckle, leaning his shoulder against the booth frame as he watched you pout. "is that the social media committee technique? aiming for the wall?"
"i just wasn't focused!" you defended, face burning as you handed him the toy gun. "let's see you do it."
"easy. it's just basic trajectory," he confidently replied, a smirk playing on his lips. he adjusted his glasses, stepped up to the counter, and lifted the rifle. his posture became straight, eyes locking onto the targets with focus.
pop. pop. pop.
three shots, three perfect hits.
the vendor let out a whistle, along with an applause, and handed over the plush cat. jungwon took it with a triumphant grin, dimple popping up as he immediately tucked the plush under your arm.
"trajectory," he whispered playfully, leaning down close to your ear so only you could hear him. "you're welcome."
you hugged the fluffy cat to your chest, heart doing a foolish little flip. after that, you ate cotton candy together, laughing until your stomachs hurt when a gust of wind blew a piece of pink sugar right onto the tip of jungwon's nose.
you truly had the best time.
around five o'clock, the sky suddenly turned dark. within minutes, rain started pouring down. "shit!" you gasped, covering your head.
jungwon grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, and pulled you along as he ran toward a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. it was a tiny, sheltered space under a concrete roof, just big enough to shield you both.
"too close," jungwon panted as you both burst into the small space. he took off his glasses, which were covered in raindrops, and used his sweater to wipe them clean.
when he put them back on and looked up, you realized just how small the space actually was. because of the pouring rain, jungwon had to be in your personal space. he was standing less than two inches away from you. you could feel the warmth of his breath and the scent of his cologne.
the world shrank down to just the two of you in the dim light.
"yn," he called. "yeah?" you murmured, heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
jungwon's eyes shifted down to you lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. his jaw clenched, as if he were fighting every single instinct to keep his distance. "it doesn't look like the rain's gonna stop any time soon."
you looked straight into his eyes. "i don't mind waiting here with you."
an unreadable look passed over jungwon's face. he leaned in as he looked out at the sheets of water splashing against the pavement, then scanned your face. "today... when wonhee saw us," he started. "i told her we wanted to spend time together away from school."
you nodded slowly, "yeah. it was a good excuse."
"it wasn't an excuse," he blurted before he could overthink it. "i really did want to. the contract just gave me a reason to ask."
your heart stopped for a beat. you stared up at him, trying to read the expression he had on. you swallowed nervously. "jungwon, are you saying...?"
"i enjoyed today," he interrupted softly. he tucked his hands into his jeans pockets, looking down at the space between your shoes to avoid eye contact. "more than i expected to. i usually find crowds a little stressful. but today, i didn't care about the crowd at all."
he didn't explicitly say 'i like being with you,' but the quiet confession hung in the air, heavier than the storm.
"i enjoyed it too," you offered a small smile. "especially the parts where we weren't taking photos."
jungwon gazed back up at you. the cold academic club president you knew was gone. slowly and hesitantly, he took a hand out of his pocket. his fingers hovered in the small space between you.
he didn't grab your hand this time. instead, his hand drifted closer until his pinky fingers gently brushed against yours.
you didn't pull away.
feeling your permission, jungwon slowly hooked his pinky around yours. his skin was warm and slightly trembling, his finger tightening just enough to lock yours in place. it was such a small touch, but it felt louder than any other public display of affection.
"then let's not think about the photos next time," he muttered. you smiled, blushing hard, making him giggle lightly at your face.
later that night, your phone vibrated against your mattress. you reached for it and your breath caught when you saw jungwon text you.
you unlocked the phone to see the text. he had sent an image file.
you tapped it, and a photo filled your screen. it was a candid picture he had taken of you when you were standing by the flower stall. you hadn't even realized he clicked the shutter at that exact moment. you were looking sideways, laughing at something he had said, with the sunlight hitting your hair perfectly. it looked soft, warm, and happy.
[jungwon] :
I was looking through the pictures.
I thought you should have this one.
a huge smile now plastered on your lips as you quickly began typing a reply.
[you] :
i didn't know you took this lol
the lighting is rly pretty
you watched the little typing bubbles appear almost instantly. your heart beat a little faster as you waited for his response.
[jungwon] :
You look prettier.
and ever since that text message and the date at the festival, something shifted between you and jungwon. the invisible wall of the "contract" had completely melted away, replaced by a rhythm that neither of you felt the need to question.
one morning, the school's central heater was acting up, leaving the building freezing. you were standing by your classroom door, shivering slightly as you talked to a classmate. when jungwon walked past on his way to the bathroom.
without breaking his stride or even pausing his conversation with a friend walking next to him, he casually unzipped his thick jacket, slipped it off, and draped it over your shoulders as he brushed past you. it was so smooth, leaving you wrapped in his warm, oversized jacket that smelled faintly of his cologne while your classmate stared in shock.
that effortless closeness had also taken over the smallest things.
one time, jungwon walked into your classroom to drop off a flyer for the open house and found you slumped over at your desk, completely exhausted from studying for a history quiz.
he walked straight over. when you saw him and started groaning and complaining about the hard questions, he didn't say a word. instead, he reached down, long fingers gently combing through your messy hair, parting stray strands neatly away from your eyes. his thumb gave your forehead a tiny brush before he took his hand away.
even your mornings at the lockers had changed. there was a time when you walked right up to him while he was organizing his textbook. you took your hands and straightened the fabric of his collar before moving it up to tap the bridge of his glasses, pushing them up his nose where they belonged.
jungwon didn't flinch or look around to see who was watching. he only looked down at you, eyes soft and let out a happy hum.
and in the blink of an eye, thursday afternoon arrived with a chaotic rush. the post had worked entirely too well. by two o'clock, only half an hour after the last bell, the academic clubroom was packed to the brim with over fifty students. the room buzzed with sounds of chatter, laughter, and the constant crinkling of chip bags.
behind the main table, you and jungwon were moving like a single, well-oiled machine. you were frantically offering juice or soda to students while jungwon tidied the snacks.
even in the middle of the sweaty rush, the comfortable vibe you had built over the weeks didn't falter. every few minutes, jungwon would catch a quick glance down at you, silently making sure you weren't feeling overwhelmed by the crowd.
"you're doing great, pretty," he murmured quickly without the intention of saying the pet name, fingers lightly brushing against your wrist in a reassuring squeeze.
your heart did a flutter at the pet name, but you kept your cool. "we're a team, remember?" you smiled back, catching your breath as you handed a juice box to a waiting sophomore.
for the first hour, the open house was a whirlwind of activity. jungwon took the center of the room, confidently explaining the club's upcoming math and science curriculum, voice clear and steady despite the massive crowd.
he looked every bit the capable president, but whenever he made a point, his eyes would instinctively find yours across the room, tracking your reaction. you stayed busy running the snack bar and managing the sign-up sheet, watching with a proud grin as more than ten students wrote their names down to join.
but halfway through, the loud chatter near the doorway suddenly died down slightly. you looked up, and your stomach dropped. wonbin had just walked in, sharp eyes instantly stuck onto you.
a few minutes later, while jungwon was pulled away to a corner by a group of students asking about the registration deadlines, wonbin saw his chance. he strode through the crowd and cornered you with a mocking smirk. "so, you actually managed to pull off a crowd," he tilted his head, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
you tightened your grip on the edge of the table. "move away, wonbin. i'm busy."
"i'm just saying, it's pathetic," he spat, voice dripping with venom. "i'm sure jungwon's just doing his duty as president. the second this open house is done, you guys are done. he's nothing compared to me, yn. you're nothing to him."
before you could fire back, jungwon appeared out of nowhere.
he didn't say a word as he stepped directly between you and wonbin, broad shoulders shielding you from view. the movement was so sudden that wonbin took a step back, smirk faltering. "i think you need to leave." his voice was loud enough that the room fell quiet.
wonbin scoffed, trying to play it cool as he eyed the staring crowd. "relax, dude. i was just talking to—"
"i couldn't care less about what you were doing," he interrupted immediately. the protective instinct radiating off him was palpable. "you're making my girlfriend uncomfortable. and since this is my clubroom, i am telling you to get out."
the word girlfriend rolled off jungwon's tongue so naturally that the students watching started mumbling. wonbin's face turned a humiliated shade of red. realizing he was outnumbered and stripped of any power he thought he had over you, he glared at jungwon one last time before storming out of the room.
the second the heavy door slammed shut, the crowd started whispering loudly. but jungwon didn't care.
he turned around to face you in an instant. his hands reached out, holding your upper arms as his eyes searched your face with concern. "are you okay?" he whispered, his tone of voice completely different from the tone he had just seconds ago. "did he hurt you? what'd he say to you?"
"i'm okay," you breathed, heart thumping from the intensity of the moment. "thank you, won."
by 4 o'clock, the event had finally cleared out. the open house was a success, and the clubroom was dead quiet once again, bathed in the orange shadows of the setting sun. you were slowly wiping down the tables while jungwon stacked the chairs against the wall.
you swallowed a lump in your throat, a crashing wave of sadness washing over you as you forced yourself to say the words you knew you had to say. "so... i guess that means the contract is fulfilled. the fake relationship is done. we don't have to pretend anymore."
jungwon's jaw clenched slightly. he looked down at his hands, his fingers tightening against a chair until knuckles turned white.
inside his chest, his heart was screaming at him to reject the idea. he want to tell you that he didn't want it to end. he wanted to tell you that the way his heart raced when he held your hand at the festival and the way he felt when your pinkies locked in the rain were the most real things he had ever experienced.
but as he looked back up at you, his guarded defense mechanisms kicked right back in. he became terrified of rejection, terrified that you truly only saw this as a contract to solve your ex-boyfriend problem.
"right," he forced a smile onto his face. "the contract is done. we achieved the desired outcome with maximum efficiency."
your heart squeezed painfully at his logical words. so it really was just a contract to him. a math problem he solved.
"mhm. efficient to the end," you choked out, forcing a fake smile as you reached down to grab your bag. "i should probably get going then. see you around, jungwon." you turned around and took two steps toward the door.
"yn, wait."
you stopped in your tracks and turned back to look at him, heart skipping a beat as hope bloomed in your chest. jungwon had stepped away from the chairs, taking a few paces to you. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. he looked like he was on the edge of throwing away all his logic and telling you exactly how much he needed you.
but then, he froze. his throat bobbed as he swallowed his words, shoulder dropping as his shyness won the battle inside his head.
"never mind," he mumbled gently, a slightly sad smile touching his lips. "thanks for today. and for everything else."
your chest pulled tight at the heavy, unspoken emotion hanging in the air. "thank you, jungwon."
the transition back to your normal life should have been easy.
the contract had achieved a prefect, one hundred percent success rate. wonbin wouldn't even look in your direction when you passed him in the hallways and you heard jungwon's appeal finally got accepted. jungwon got reached his goal, and you had your peace back.
but you realized you didn't care about the peace at all.
you were sitting at your desk during recess, staring blankly at your notebook. last week, this exact time of day was when jungwon walked into your classroom to drop off a flyer and gently brushes the messy hair out of your eyes.
the classroom door opened, and your head snapped up. but it wasn't him. it was just a group of students laughing at they walked in.
a heavy ache settled deep in your chest. you slumped against your desk, burying your face in your arms. it was ridiculous. you didn't care about wonbin anymore. the only thing consuming your thoughts and your entire heart was a quiet boy with thick-framed glasses and a dimpled smile.
across the building, the library was quiet. jungwon sat as his usual desk, surrounded by calculus books and a glowing laptop screen. the exams were only a few weeks away, and normally, this was where jungwon was most efficient.
but today, his brain was offline.
he stared at the same problem for twenty minutes, the numbers blurring together on the page. his right hand was resting on the table. every time he looked at it, he was dragged back to that alleyway in the pouring rain.
he let out a frustrated sigh, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"the contract is done. we achieved the desired outcome with maximum efficiency."
he wanted to punch himself for saying those words. he had let his stupid shyness build a wall between you right when he should have torn it down. he wanted anything but for you to leave.
he pulled out his phone and opened your chat, positioning his thumbs over the keyboard.
Are you busy after school today?
The clubroom needs some organizing.
he stared at the draft. it was a lie. the clubroom was perfectly clean. he just wanted a reason, any reason to see you, to hear your laugh, and to breathe in the same air as you again.
his thumb hovered over the send button for a long minute. but his throat tightened as the familiar fear crept back in. what if she's glad the contract is over? what if she doesn't want to see me anymore?
with a sigh, jungwon deleted the text, locking his phone and dropping it face-down on the table. he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as a sense of loneliness washed over him.
and due to the receding sighting of you and jungwon together, a rumor spread faster than a wildfire.
The Academic Club president, Jungwon, and his girlfriend, yn, broke up!
you could hear the whispers trailing behind you all day, but you didn't have the energy to care, you walked out to the courtyard during lunch break, desperately needing a quiet place to breathe away.
"hey, yn."
you stifled a sigh as you saw wonbin walking toward you, a smug grin plastered across his face. "i heard the news," he stopped a few feet away from you. "so, the nerd couldn't keep up with you after all huh? i told you he was just doing his duty as president. the second the open house was over, he dropped you."
you stared at him, realizing how insignificant he truly was compared to the boy who stood up for you last week. "get to the point, wonbin."
he took a step closer, mistaking your exhaustion for sadness. "come on, don't be like that. i'm trying to help you. now that you're single again, i was thinking... maybe we can give it another shot. i'm willing to overlook the little stunt you pulled. you made your point, and i'm ready to take you back."
he reached his hand out, aiming to rest it on your shoulder, fully expecting you to melt right back into his arms.
but before his fingers could touch the fabric of your blazer, you sharply slapped his hand away. the crisp smack echoed in the quiet courtyard. wonbin's grin vanished as his eyes widened. "what the hell, yn?"
"don't touch me," you stepped forward, looking wonbin dead in the eye. "let me make this clear to you, because apparently, your brain can't process such small and simple facts. i didn't pull a stunt. and i am never getting back with you."
"are you serious?" his pride clearly took a massive hit. "you'd rather be miserable over a guy who only cared about his club than be with me?"
"jungwon didn't drop me, park wonbin. and even if he never speaks to me again, i would still choose a single second of his kindness over a lifetime of whatever it was i had with you."
wonbin's face twisted into a hideous expression of shock and humiliation. he opened his mouth to speak, but the fire in your eyes completely choked the words in his throat. "you're crazy," he muttered as he backed away. "you're out of your mind."
"maybe i am," you whispered. "now get out of my fucking sight."
you listened to the heavy, angry sound of his sneakers stomping away across the gravel until the courtyard fell into a beautiful silence.
what you didn't know was that a couple of juniors had been sitting on the nearby benches behind the bushes, eating their lunches. within an hour, word of you declaring that you would choose jungwon over anyone else spread.
when the last bell rang, the talk had reached the entire school. and for jungwon, that was the breaking point.
the wind was breezy as you sat alone at the bus stop just outside the school gates. the street was quiet, most of the students having already cleared out. you stared down at your shoes, heart heavy with a mixture of relief from shedding wonbin, and an ache because of missing jungwon.
your face burned as you remembered your own words from earlier. it was the truth, but a nagging fear in the back of your mind whispered that you might never get the chance to tell him.
suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed. you looked up, breath hitching.
jungwon was running toward the bus stop. his hair was completely windswept, his tie was loosened, and his blazer were unbuttoned. he looked breathless, chest heaving as he skidded to halt in front of you.
"jungwon?" you stood up from the bench. "what's wrong? what are you—?"
not giving you the chance to finish your sentence, jungwon closed the remaining distance between you in a single stride. his ling arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his chest.
your let out a soft gasp as your forehead bumped gently against his shoulder. he held you so tightly it almost took your breath away, his fingers digging into the fabric of your blazer as if he were trying to anchor himself to you. you could feel his heartbeat and his warm breath brushing past your ear.
"jungwon...?" you called, hands hovering in the air before tentatively resting on his back.
"i heard what you said," he muttered, voice thick with emotion. he buried his face deeper into your shoulder, grip tightening. "i heard what you told wonbin in the courtyard."
you blinked, heart fluttering. "you did?"
"every word," he mumbled. slowly, he loosened his grip just enough to pull back and look at you, though his hands stayed securely on your waist, refusing to let you step away. "i spent the last week trying to figure out how to live without you. i told myself it was what was best for you because the deal was over."
he let out a self-deprecating laugh, thumb rubbing circles against your side to ground himself.
"but i was wrong. so wrong. it was the worst assumption i've ever made in my life," he confessed. "i couldn't focus on my studies. i couldn't go to the clubroom without missing you. and when i heard what you said today, i realized i was being a coward."
you looked up at him, vision now slightly blurry. "won..."
"i don't want a contract anymore," he stepped even closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. he reached up with one hand, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb wiping a tear. "i don't want to fake anything. i want to be your real boyfriend who can hold your hand, fix your hair, and walk you home every single day."
he breathed before adding, "yn, i am completely, hopelessly in love with you."
the confession hung beautifully in the air. a massive smile appeared on your face, heart bursting with happiness so profound it washed every single second of the sadness.
"you are actually terrible at math, jungwon," you laughed softly through your tears. "because it took you a whole week to realize something i've known since that street festival."
his signature dimple popped up as he grinned. "is that a yes?"
"it's a definitive, one hundred percent yes."
jungwon's breath caught in his throat. the last lingering bit of his restraint shattered. he didn't say anything else. his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers gently tangling into your hair to tilt your face up.
deliberately, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.
your eyes fluttered shut as a wave of electricity rushed straight to your core. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant and sweet. but as you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, jungwon let out a hum against your mouth and pulled you impossibly closer, deepening the kiss.
his lips were warm and firm against yours, filled with all the longing and unspoken feeling he had been locking away inside his chest.
the roaring engine of the bus pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the twilight. the doors folded open, but neither of you moved. you were completely wrapped up in his warmth, oblivious to the world around you.
when jungwon finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested gently against yours. he kept his eyes closed for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face, simple cutting deep into his red cheeks. he slid his hand down your arm until his fingers slid between yours, locking his large hand securely with yours. "miss the bus for me?" he questioned. "i want to walk you home."
You come home from three years abroad not by choice but for your grandmother’s funeral and walk straight back into YANG JUNGWON — lead businessman at Yang Industries and standing beside a life that doesn’t include you. Your grandmother’s will fractures your family, though it was already fractured, the letters she left begin exposing secrets, and the manor starts unravelling everything it’s been hiding — affairs, business ties, and truths no one wanted uncovered. Every moment alone with him drags you back toward those buried feelings since you were teens and makes you confront the one thing you never said; your grandmother planned this. But did she really bring you back just to watch your family spiral — or to force the two of you to face what she always knew was ‘meant to be’?
parings. . . yang jungwon x female reader ┃ wc. 27.7k
⟡themes. . . childhood best friends to lovers, second chance romance, right person wrong time, mutual pining, slow burn, angst with payoff, unspoken feelings, complicated relationships, love vs duty, rich family drama, inheritance drama, toxic family dynamics, sibling rivalry, jealousy, family secrets, corruption, old money, forced proximity, shared history, emotional repression, house as a character, flashbacks, happy ending
⟡content warnings. . . mature content (18+), fingering, oral sex (f), slight repression of breathing (fingers in mouth), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, missionary, eye contact, light restraint (wrists pinned), praise kink, slight dom/sub undertones, loss of a loved one, grief, infidelity, family dysfunction and manipulation, emotional repression, mild angst, morally grey side characters
⟡now playing. . . Wicked Games by Chris Isaac // To Love by Suki Waterhouse // she heart by Cameron Cabelo
⟡laceys note // I really loved writing this and how the grandmother is so present in the story while not being present, she controls the whole narrative. The family secrets always just a matter of time before they came out. I put a lot of heart into this and I hope it shows, i didn’t indent for it to be this long but oh well! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing! Enjoy💞 (ps I’ve rebloged with all those who asked to be tagged bc tumblr has a limit 😫)
THE FLIGHT FROM BARCELONA LANDED FORTY MINUTES LATE.
You didn’t mind. Forty minutes was forty minutes less of being home, and you needed every one of them. You sat in your seat while the other passengers stood and jostled for overhead luggage and you looked out the small oval window at the grey Korean sky and you thought about your grandmother’s hands.
The way they looked when she shuffled a deck of cards. The way she’d lay one down on the table and look at you sideways and say what does that tell you before you’d even had time to see the face of it.
She’d been teaching you something your whole life. You were still figuring out what.
Your phone had forty-three unread messages by the time you turned it off airplane mode. Thirty-one of them were from your sister Haeun. You read the first one — the lawyer says the reading is Thursday, I need to know what grandmother told you — and put your phone face-down on your thigh and breathed through your nose until the seat belt sign dinged off.
She hadn’t told you anything. That was the thing about Han Sooja. She never told you anything. She offered, suggested, implied. She left doors slightly open and trusted you to be curious enough to walk through them. Every Sunday for three years you’d called her from your apartment in Barcelona — the one with the yellow kitchen tiles you hated and then grew to love — and she’d talk about the garden, about the house, about whatever book she was reading, and at the end she’d say something that didn’t make sense until weeks later.
The last call had been eight days before she died. She’d asked if you still had the book she gave you before you left. Italo Calvino, the one about invisible cities. You’d said yes, it’s on my shelf, and she’d made a small sound of satisfaction and said good girl the way she used to when you found a hidden room in the manor, small and proud and like she’d been waiting. You hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. The book was in your carry-on bag right now. You didn’t know why you’d packed it. It had felt necessary in the way that irrational things sometimes do.
The Han family estate sat forty minutes outside of Seoul, through the kind of countryside that looked different in every season and the same in all of them. Your father had arranged a car. You sat in the back and watched the city dissolve into hills and treelines and you felt the specific vertigo of returning somewhere that exists more fully in your memory than in real life.
You hadn’t been back in almost three years. Barcelona had been good to you. Your degree, your small studio, your Sunday markets and your terrible attempts at Catalan and the way the light hit the Eixample buildings at five in the afternoon like the whole city was on fire. You had built a life there from scratch, which was something, which was actually a lot. You had been proud of the distance.
Now the distance was just kilometres you’d swallowed in nine hours and your grandmother was dead and the estate gates were opening in front of you and you were twenty-three years old and somehow eight years old at the same time. The manor was lit from inside. Warm amber in every window, the way it always looked in winter, the way it looked in every memory you had of arriving home from anywhere. Your chest did something complicated.
You were barely out of the car when the front door opened. Your mother came down the steps first. She looked beautiful and exhausted and somewhere behind her eyes was a grief that was doing battle with something sharper. She held you and you held her back and she smelled like the same perfume she’d worn your entire life and for a moment you just let yourself be held. “You look thin,” she said, pulling back to look at your face. Her hands cupped your jaw the way she’d done when you were small.
“I’m not thin.”
“You’re thin.” She said it like a conclusion and took your bag from you before you could argue. Your father appeared behind her. Tall, silver-templed, the kind of handsome that photographs well. He kissed your cheek and said welcome home, sweetheart and squeezed your shoulder and you smiled and said thank you and the whole thing lasted four seconds and felt utterly normal and you pushed down the small unnameable thing it stirred in you and went inside.
Haeun was in the sitting room with her husband Minjae, who was tall and quiet and had the energy of a man who had learned to occupy as little space as possible to survive his marriage. She stood up when you came in and crossed the room and hugged you and over her shoulder her eyes were already doing the thing — already calculating, already moving pieces around a board.
“You look wonderful,” she said, and she meant it as something other than a compliment.
“So do you,” you said, and you sat down, and you accepted the tea someone put in your hands, and you listened to your family talk around the actual subject the way families do, and you thought about your grandmother’s hands again. The way she’d lay a card down. What does that tell you?
You were so inside your own head that you didn’t hear the second car arrive. You didn’t hear the front door. You didn’t hear the voices in the hall. The first thing you registered was your mother’s posture changing — a small straightening, a social smile replacing the real one — and then the sitting room door opened and Jungwon walked in.
He was wearing black. Of course he was, it was a house in mourning, but it suited him in a way that felt almost unfair. He’d grown into himself in the years since you’d last seen him — not taller, he’d always been tall, but somehow more present, like he’d learned to take up the exact right amount of space. His father walked in behind him and then a woman you didn’t recognise, and then you did recognise her, you’d seen her tagged in photos online the way you absolutely had not been keeping track of, and her name was Seo Yerin and she was very beautiful and her hand was in the crook of Jungwon’s arm like she’d grown there.
Jungwon’s father greeted yours with the practiced warmth of two men who had been doing business together for decades. Your mother offered Yerin tea. Haeun said something charming. Minjae stood slightly behind Haeun and looked at the ceiling. And then Jungwon looked across the room and found you.
There was a moment — just a moment, small enough that you could convince yourself later it hadn’t happened — where his face did something unguarded. Something that looked like there you are and oh no at the same time. And then it resolved into a smile. Warm, professional, genuine enough to be dangerous. “You made it,” he said.
“I made it,” you said. He crossed the room and hugged you and he smelled different — something expensive, cedar and something clean — but underneath it was the same, was him, was the boy who had eaten your grandmother’s good biscuits and blamed it on you and laughed so hard he’d fallen off the kitchen counter. You pulled back before you held on too long.
“How was Barcelona?” he asked. His voice was careful. Friendly.
“Cold right now,” you said. “How’s the company?”
“Growing,” he said. And then, quieter, under the room noise: “She talked about you. Every time I visited. Said you were doing well.”
Something lodged in your throat. “She talked about you too,” you said. Yerin appeared at his shoulder like a weather system. Her smile was lovely and precise. “You must be the friend,” she said. “Jungwon’s told me so much.”
You held her gaze for exactly the right amount of time. “Good things, I hope,” you said pleasantly.
“Of course,” she said. And her hand found Jungwon’s arm again. And the moment sealed shut.
Dinner was the thing it always was in this house — too much food, too much wine, too much history in the walls. You sat across from Jungwon and next to your father and you told yourself to eat and listen and feel nothing in particular.
Your grandmother’s chair at the head of the table was empty and remained empty the entire meal. Nobody had moved it. Nobody had suggested moving it. It sat there with its carved wooden back and the slightly worn armrest where she’d rested her right hand for sixty years and it was the loudest thing in the room.
After dinner, when the adults had migrated to the sitting room and Haeun was performing warmth at Yerin with the energy of a woman collecting intelligence, you slipped out. The hallway was quiet. The manor at night had its own sound — old wood settling, the particular silence of high ceilings, the grandfather clock at the end of the east corridor that had been six minutes fast for as long as you could remember and which your grandmother had refused to correct because she said she liked having six extra minutes that nobody else knew about.
You stood in the hall outside the library and pressed your hand flat against the wall. Old wallpaper. Pale blue, faded at the seams. You knew what was behind it. Third panel from the left, your grandmother had said when you were nine, crouching down to your eye level with absolute seriousness, you push at the bottom corner, not the middle, because the middle is what they expect. And then she’d winked at you and Jungwon and said the house has more rooms than anyone thinks. That’s true of most things.
You pressed the bottom corner of the third panel. Nothing happened for a second. Then the soft mechanical exhale of something old and well-made, and the panel gave, and the smell of cool air and stone and something faintly like old paper came out of the dark.
You stood there looking into it. Behind you, very quietly, someone said: “You remembered.” You turned around. Jungwon was leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read in the low hall light.
“You followed me,” you said.
“I saw you leave.” He pushed off the wall and came to stand beside you, looking into the dark passage the way you both used to as kids — like it was a dare, like it was an invitation. “I used to come here,” he said. “After you left. With her” You looked at him. “She’d make tea and we’d sit in the passage room with a candle and she’d make me do the crossword and not let me leave until I finished it.” He had a smile on his face.
Your throat did the thing again. “She never told me that,” you said.
“She never told me she called you every week either,” he said. “I found out from the phone records when we were going through her things.” A pause. “She listed you as the Barcelona girl in her contacts.”
A sound came out of you that was almost a laugh. It hurt a little on the way out. The passage waited. Dark, familiar, smelling of everything unchanged. “We should go in,” Jungwon said quietly.
“Now?” He looked at you sideways and for a second he was twelve years old and the whole world was just this house and summer and whatever stupid adventure came next.
“She would have wanted us to,” he said. And the thing was — he was right. You both knew it. This was exactly the kind of thing she would have engineered if she could have. And the thought that maybe she had — maybe this was the beginning of something she’d set in motion from a long way back — made the back of your neck prickle. You reached into the dark for the torch she’d always kept on the inside ledge. It was there. Fresh batteries. Recently placed. Of course it was. What does that tell you, she would have said.
You clicked it on. “Come on then,” you said. And Jungwon followed you into the wall.
The passage room was exactly as you remembered. Small, stone-floored, with a ceiling low enough that Jungwon had to duck slightly now in a way he hadn’t needed to at fifteen. There was a wooden table, two chairs that didn’t match, a candle in a brass holder with a box of matches beside it, and a shelf of books along the far wall that had nothing to do with the library on the other side of it. Your grandmother had curated this room the way she curated everything — deliberately, privately, with a logic that only revealed itself if you were paying attention. Jungwon lit the candle without being asked. Old habit.
You swept the torchlight along the bookshelf. Calvino. Borges. A Korean translation of an Agatha Christie you’d never seen before. Three books on architecture that made your chest ache with something fond.
And at the end of the shelf, propped against the stone wall like it had been recently placed and not forgotten, a tin box. Small, olive green, the kind that used to hold biscuits. You both looked at it. “That wasn’t here before,” Jungwon said.
“No,” you agreed. Neither of you moved toward it immediately. That was something she’d taught you both without ever making it a lesson — patience. The instinct to look before you touched. To let a thing be what it was for a moment before you decided what to do with it. You sat down in one of the mismatched chairs. Jungwon took the other. The candle made the room flicker and warm and very small.
“When did you last come here?” you asked.
He thought about it. “Two weeks before she died. She wanted to do the crossword and said the library was too bright.” A corner of his mouth moved. “She said fluorescent lighting was an act of violence against the human spirit.”
“She said that about my university’s studio lighting on a phone call once,” you said. “I’d sent her a photo of my desk.”
“She printed it,” Jungwon said. “It was on her dresser.” You looked at the candle flame. Three years of Sunday calls and she’d printed a photo of your desk and put it on her dresser and filed Jungwon under the boy who visits in whatever internal registry she kept and said nothing to either of you about the other and you had both thought you were each grieving her separately and privately and it turned out she had been holding you both the whole time, one in each hand, like she always had. “I should have come back sooner,” you said. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Jungwon was quiet for a moment. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to. She was proud of you being there.” He paused. “She showed me your graduation photos.”
“She wasn’t at my graduation.”
“I know. But you sent them to her.” He looked at the table. “She showed me on her phone. Stood there in the garden and made me look at every single one and told me what each building in the background was.” A beat. “She knew all of them.” Of course she did. Han Sooja had read every book in this room and a thousand more and had never once made a performance of knowing things.
You stood up and crossed to the shelf and picked up the olive tin. It wasn’t locked. The lid lifted with the soft resistance of something sealed against air and inside was not another letter, not yet, but a folded piece of paper and beneath it a photograph and beneath that a single playing card.
The seven of spades. You picked it up. Turned it over. On the back, in her handwriting — small, precise, the handwriting of someone who had learned to write when paper was expensive: Not everything buried is lost. Some things are just waiting for the ground to be ready. — start with the east corridor, third door.
Jungwon leaned over and read it. His shoulder was warm against yours. “The east corridor,” he said.
“Third door is the old study,” you said.
“Your father and mine use it when they’re doing paperwork. She always hated that.”
Something shifted in Jungwon’s expression. Not much. Just enough. “Why did she hate it?” you asked.
He picked up the tin lid and turned it over in his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. Which meant he knew something and wasn’t sure yet whether to say it. You let it sit. Patience. Look before you touch.
You folded the note back up, put it in your pocket, and placed the seven of spades carefully back in the tin. “Tomorrow?” you said.
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
—
The will reading was at ten in the morning in the manor’s formal sitting room, which your grandmother had always called the room where people go to say things they’ve rehearsed.
The family lawyer, an older man named Mr. Oh who had been handling Han Sooja’s affairs for thirty years, sat at the writing desk with a folder open in front of him and his reading glasses pushed to the end of his nose. Your mother sat straight-backed in the good armchair. Your father beside her. Haeun on the small sofa with Minjae, who had the expression of a man attending something he had been asked to attend and was determined to survive neutrally. The Yang family were not present for this — this was immediate family, just yours, just the people your grandmother had chosen to name. And it surprised you that she hadn’t named Jungwon.
You sat in the chair nearest the window. Old habit. Whenever your grandmother held court in this room she’d saved that chair for you because it got the best light and she knew you liked to draw in the margins of things.
Mr. Oh read the preamble in the formal language of legal documents and your mother’s posture got incrementally straighter with each clause and Haeun’s hands in her lap were very still in the way that meant they wanted to be doing something else. The estate. The grounds. The property in full — to you and Haeun jointly, held in trust until such time as you both agreed on its future. Haeun’s shoulders dropped a fraction. Okay. Shared. That was manageable.
The financial holdings, the investments, the accounts — split equally between the two of you. Still manageable. Still even. Your mother’s face was carefully neutral.
And then: The personal correspondence, the private library, the contents of the third floor study, and sole guardianship of the estate’s architectural records and original documents — Mr. Oh paused in the way lawyers pause when they know what they’re about to say will change the temperature of a room — to my granddaughter, Y/N, who has always understood that a house is not a building but a living record, and who I trust to know what to do with what she finds.
The room was very quiet. You felt your mother look at you. You didn’t turn. Haeun said, lightly, carefully, as if the words hadn’t been sitting in her mouth for thirty years: “The architectural records.”
“All original documents pertaining to the construction and modification of the estate,” Mr. Oh confirmed. “Floor plans, correspondence, modification records. All to your sister, as specified.”
“I see,” Haeun said. Her voice was a closed door. Mr. Oh continued. There were smaller bequests — to staff, to a charity your grandmother had supported quietly for decades, to a cousin you barely knew. A piece of jewellery to your mother, significant and old and chosen with the precision of someone who knew exactly what a gift could mean and what it could also withhold. Your mother held the jewellery box in her lap and looked at it and you saw, briefly, the grief crack through the composed surface of her face.
She had loved her mother. Whatever else was happening in the register beneath that love, the love was real and it was enormous and she was going to feel both things at the same time for a very long time.
The reading ended. Mr. Oh gathered his papers. Minjae quietly offered to fetch tea as a reason to leave the room. Your father stood and shook Mr. Oh’s hand. Haeun stood up and came to you. “Congratulations,” she said. The word had nothing to do with congratulations.
“I didn’t ask for it,” you said.
“No,” she agreed. “You never have to.” She left the room. You watched her go and thought about the seven of spades in the tin box in the passage room and your grandmother’s handwriting and the specific, deliberate way she had chosen to distribute what she knew and what she owned. Not everything buried is lost.
Your father’s hand on your shoulder again. That same four-second warmth. “Your grandmother loved you very much,” he said.
“She loved all of us,” you said.
He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “Of course she did.”
Six weeks before she died — Sunday, Barcelona, 4pm
The light through your kitchen tiles was doing the thing it did in late autumn, coming in flat and amber and making everything look like the inside of a memory. You had your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder and you were attempting to re-pot a plant that had been dying slowly since August.
“The Calvino,” your grandmother said. “You still have it?”
“On my shelf,” you said. “It’s been there for three years, Halmoni.”
“Good.” That sound of satisfaction. “I want you to read it again before you come home.”
“I’m not planning to come home.”
“I know,” she said. Not sadly. Just factually, the way she said most things. “Read it anyway. There’s a passage in the chapter about Octavia — the spider-web city — that I want you to think about.”
You looked at your dying plant. “About what?”
“About the nature of what holds things together,” she said. “And what happens when you finally look down.”
You’d laughed a little, because she was always doing this, always dropping things into conversation like seeds into soil. “You could just tell me what you mean.”
“Where would be the fun in that,” she said. Not a question. The plant lost a leaf. You caught it. “Jungwon came by yesterday,” she said, at the end, in the place where she always put the things that mattered most.
You were quiet for a second too long. “How is he?” you asked, carefully.
“The way young men are when they’re doing the right thing for the wrong reasons,” she said. “He brought me tangerines. He stayed for four hours.” A pause. “He asked how you were.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were building something beautiful and that you missed home more than you admitted.”
“Halmoni—”
“I told him the truth,” she said serenely. “Goodnight, my girl.” The call ended. You stood in your yellow-tiled kitchen in Barcelona with a dead leaf in your hand and the flat amber light going dark around you and you thought about Jungwon asking how you were. You didn’t call him and you could almost see your grandmother's disarming look.
—
Your grandmother’s bedroom was at the end of the east wing. Nobody had gone in since she died. You could tell by the way the door resisted slightly when you turned the handle — not locked, just untouched, the air on the other side of it thick and still in the way that rooms get when they’ve been holding their breath. The staff had respected it. Your mother had respected it, or avoided it, and those two things looked identical from the outside. You went in alone.
The curtains were half-open the way she always kept them — enough light to see by, not enough to bleach the colours, she’d said once, about curtains and about most other things. Her bed was made with the precise, almost architectural tidiness of a woman who had made her own bed every morning for eighty-one years. On her nightstand: reading glasses, a glass of water someone had forgotten to remove, a library book three weeks overdue, and a small framed photograph.
You crossed the room and picked it up. It was the two of you. You and her, you couldn’t have been more than ten, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the passage room with a candle between you and a crossword spread out on the stone floor and your face screwed up in concentration. You had no memory of the photo being taken. You had no idea who had taken it. You stood there holding it for a long time. Then you put it down, carefully, exactly where it had been, and you looked at the room.
She had left it for you to find. Whatever it was. You knew that the way you knew the batteries in the torch had been fresh — she had arranged this, she had thought about you standing in this room, she had trusted you to look properly. So you looked.
Her desk first. Neat, deliberate. Correspondence in one pile, addressed and stamped and ready to post — you’d find out later she’d written them in the last week of her life, small notes to old friends, a letter to a charity, one to Mr. Oh with an addendum to her will that simply read make sure she gets the Calvino back if she doesn’t bring it herself. Her pen in its holder. A magnifying glass. A small jade figurine of a rabbit that had sat on every desk she’d ever owned since before your mother was born.
You moved to the wardrobe. Her clothes, her good coat, a shelf of shoeboxes at the top. You pulled each one down and opened it with the care of someone who understood that your grandmother did not waste containers. Shoes in most of them.
In one — the second from the right, which was the kind of specific detail only she would have noted — a bundle of letters tied with kitchen string, and beneath it a leather notebook, and beneath that a folded envelope. Your name on the front. Both names. For my granddaughter and for Jungwon-ah — to be opened together, in the house, when the time is right. You’ll know.
Your hands were very steady. That surprised you. You sat on the edge of her bed — something you’d done a thousand times as a child, sitting there while she brushed her hair or told you something she wanted you to remember — and you held the envelope and you didn’t open it. Not yet.
She’d said together. She’d written both your names. She’d trusted you to know when the time was right and you knew, the way she’d taught you to know things, that the time was not right alone in her bedroom at nine in the morning while the house was waking up around you. You put the envelope inside your jacket, against your chest, and you took the leather notebook too because it had no name on it and therefore belonged to you the way all unnamed things in this house now did, you put the shoeboxes back exactly as you’d found them, and you straightened the bed where you’d sat, and you took one more look at the photograph on the nightstand.
There’s a passage in the chapter about Octavia, she’d said. About the nature of what holds things together. You’d read it on the plane. You’d sat in seat 24A at thirty thousand feet over France and read the passage about the spider-web city suspended over an abyss and the people who lived in it who did not think about the abyss because to think about the abyss was not the point. The point was the net. The point was the thing that held. The life of Octavia’s inhabitants is less uncertain than that of other cities, Calvino had written. They know the net will only last so long.
You left the bedroom. You pulled the door back to exactly where it had been.
The leather notebook turned out to be a record. You found this out that afternoon, sitting on the floor of the passage room with the candle lit and your back against the cold stone wall, and it was not what you expected and it was completely what you should have expected because this was Han Sooja and she had never done anything without documentation.
It was dated across seven years. Small entries, some only a few lines, written in the spare economical way she wrote everything. It read less like a diary and more like case notes — observations, dates, names, figures. The early entries were oblique enough that you had to read them twice. The later ones were less patient with their own obliqueness.
Your father’s name appeared on the fourth page. And then a name you didn’t recognise. A woman’s name, recurring, with dates beside it and in one entry a location — a restaurant in Gangnam, a hotel in Busan, a work trip that had not been a work trip. Your grandmother had written these things in the same tone she used to note the weather or the overdue library book. No exclamation. No fury. Just the facts, recorded with the quiet, devastating precision of a woman who had known for years and decided that the right time to use what she knew was not while she was alive to be argued with.
Your father, the last entry about him read, dated eight months ago, has made choices that your mother has chosen not to see. I have chosen not to intervene in my daughter’s choices. But I have chosen not to reward his with my silence after I’m gone. He will know, when the estate goes to you, that I knew. That is enough.
You read that three times. Then you turned the page. The next section was about the company. Your father’s company and the Yang family company and the specific way they were connected, which your grandmother laid out in the same case-note fashion — dates of agreements, figures, the shape of something that had been built quietly over decades. You didn’t understand all of it. You understood enough. You understood that it was the kind of thing that would matter enormously to Jungwon, who was now running his family’s side of it, who had taken over from his father without knowing everything his father had built. Or maybe knowing some of it. You didn’t know yet what Jungwon knew.
The last entry in the notebook was not about your father or the companies. It was short, just four lines, and it was the only entry in the whole notebook that had nothing to do with documentation. I have watched those two children for fifteen years and I have been patient because patience was what was needed. They are both very clever and very stupid in the way that people are when they are in the middle of something they can’t see the edges of yet. I am leaving them the house and each other and every door I can think to unlock. The rest is up to them. I trust them. I always have.
The candle burned. You sat on the cold floor of the secret room your grandmother had shown you at nine years old and you held a notebook full of everything she’d known and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth and you did not cry, quite, but it was a near thing.
—
You found Jungwon at the edge of the garden. He was standing at the low stone wall that separated the formal garden from the fields beyond it, the ones where you used to chase the chickens, the ones that looked in winter like a grey-green painting of themselves. He had his coat on and his hands in his pockets and he was looking at the fields the way you’d been looking at the manor from the car yesterday — like something that was more inside him than outside. “Jungwon,” you said.
He turned. Registered your face. “What happened?” You hadn’t known it showed. You’d been careful on the way out of the house.
“I found something,” you said. “In her room.” You took the envelope out of your jacket. Held it out so he could see both your names on it. He looked at it for a long time without moving. The winter fields were quiet behind him. The house was warm and lit behind you. You were standing exactly between the two of them, which felt like something your grandmother would have arranged if she could have. Maybe she had.
Jungwon reached out and took the envelope from your hand. He turned it over. Ran his thumb across the handwriting. “She wrote both our names,” he said.
“She said to open it together. When the time was right.”
He looked up at you. “Is it?”
You thought about the notebook in your jacket. About the woman’s name recurring through seven years of entries. About the company and the figures and the connection between your families that neither of you had been told about. About the seven of spades and the east corridor and the third door. About the passage room, two chairs, a candle. About him asking how you were from three years and three thousand kilometres away through the relay of your grandmother’s voice. “Not yet,” you said. “But soon.”
He nodded slowly. He held the envelope for a moment longer and then he held it back out to you. “You keep it,” he said. “She gave you the house. She’d want it kept here.”
You took it. Put it back inside your jacket. “There’s something else,” you said. “The notebook. I need to tell you about it. Not now, not here—” you glanced back at the house, at the lit windows, at the shapes of people moving behind glass— “but soon. There are things in it about the company. Your family and mine.”
Something moved behind his eyes. Just a fraction. “How much do you know?” he asked. His voice was careful. Professional. The voice he used in the sitting room, not the voice from the passage with the candle.
“Enough to know you might know some of it already,” you said. He held your gaze. The wind moved between you.
“Tonight,” he said. “Passage room.”
“Tonight,” you agreed. He nodded and turned back to the fields. You stood beside him for a moment, not saying anything, looking at the same grey-green view, and it was almost like being ten years old again except that you were both carrying things ten-year-olds don’t carry and the weight of it was very quietly changing the shape of everything.
“She kept a photo of us,” you said. “In the passage room. Do you know who took it?”
“She did,” he said. “She had one of those cameras with the timer. She set it up on the shelf.” A pause. “She has about fifteen of them. Of us, from different years. She kept them in the tin.”
You thought about the olive green tin. The photograph beneath the note beneath the playing card. “I only found the one,” you said.
“There’s a second tin,” he said. “She showed me once. It’s in the east corridor study.” He paused. “Third door.” You looked at him. He looked back at you. Not everything buried is lost.
“Tonight,” you said again. And you both stood at the wall in the winter garden and looked at the fields where you used to chase chickens and neither of you said anything about the thing that had been living in the space between you for longer than either of you had names for it yet.
—
The Yang family came at seven. Your mother had spent the afternoon directing the staff with the focused energy of a woman who needed something to control. The good dishes. The good wine. Flowers on the table that were tasteful and seasonal and had been ordered from the florist your grandmother had used for forty years because some things you don’t change even when you are quietly furious at the dead person who used to order them. You’d spent the afternoon in your room with the notebook open on your bed and your laptop beside it, cross-referencing what your grandmother had recorded in her careful case-note hand against what you could find publicly about your father’s company and the Yang Group. You’d built a partial picture. Partial was enough to make your chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with the altitude change from Barcelona.
You closed everything at six-thirty and got dressed and looked at yourself in the mirror of your childhood bedroom. The room still had your things in it. Sketchbooks on the shelf. A poster from a Barcelona exhibition you’d sent home because you’d had no wall space. A corkboard above the desk with old photos and ticket stubs and a hand-drawn map of the manor’s ground floor that you’d made when you were twelve and that contained, you now noticed, three rooms that weren’t on it that you’d known about since you were nine. She’d taught you to keep secrets the way other grandmothers taught you to knit. Quietly. Practically. With the implication that the skill would matter someday.
You put your earrings in and went downstairs. Jungwon’s father, Yang Junho, had the big laugh and the easy warmth of a man who had learned early that charm was infrastructure. He embraced your mother, clapped your father on the shoulder, kissed your cheek and said look at you, all grown up and making us all feel old in the way that powerful men say things to young women — benevolent, slightly proprietary, not quite seeing you. Yerin arrived in something that was architecturally perfect for the occasion. You noticed it the way you noticed good design — involuntarily, with a kind of professional appreciation that sat alongside everything else. She was very good at this. At the surface of things.
She found your eyes across the hall and smiled. You smiled back. Jungwon was behind her, talking to your father, and you watched the two of them shake hands and exchange the warm professional pleasantries of men from families that had known each other a long time and you thought about the notebook in your room and the figures on page four and the way your father’s hand had been on your shoulder after the will reading, and you kept your face very still. Haeun arrived late, which was a statement, with Minjae in tow, which was a footnote.
Dinner was served at eight.The dining room in winter was all candlelight and dark wood and the accumulated weight of every meal that had ever been eaten in it. Your grandmother’s empty chair was still at the head of the table. Still nobody suggested moving it or filling it. It sat there and presided. You were seated between your father and Jungwon’s father, which was either an accident of place settings or your mother’s idea of diplomacy or the universe testing your ability to eat soup while sitting on top of a secret. Jungwon was diagonally across from you. Yerin beside him, her hand on the table near his, not quite touching. She had positioned herself with the precision of someone who understood rooms and sightlines and what it meant to be seen next to the right person. You understood rooms and sightlines too.
The first course arrived. Conversation did what conversation does at these dinners — it found the safe channels and moved through them. Business. The economy. A mutual acquaintance’s new venture. Your Barcelona degree, which Yang Junho asked about with genuine interest and which you answered clearly and concisely and felt Jungwon listening to without looking at you. “Architecture,” Junho said, nodding. “Your grandmother always said you’d do something with buildings.”
“She said I’d do something with spaces,” you said. “She made a distinction.” Junho looked pleased by this in the way people look pleased when they’re reminded of someone they miss. “That sounds like her.”
“She was very specific about words,” Jungwon said. He was looking at his wine glass. “She used to correct my crossword answers even when they technically fit.”
“Because fitting and being right are different things,” you said, before you could decide not to. He looked up. Found your eyes. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what she said.” Yerin reached for her wine.
Haeun chose the main course to begin her campaign. She did it beautifully. That was the thing about your sister — she was genuinely skilled at this, at the long game of dinner table conversation, at the way you could introduce a subject so casually that by the time people realized they were discussing it they’d already committed to a position. “It’s such a comfort,” she said, during a lull, with the warm sincerity of a woman who had rehearsed warmth until it became real, “that grandmother’s things will stay in the family. The records, especially. The architectural history of this place.” A smile at you. “I know how much it means to you.”
“It does,” you said.
“It’s just interesting,” Haeun said, tilting her head slightly, “that grandmother felt those should be — separated out. From the general estate. Don’t you think, Mum?” Your mother’s expression didn’t change. “Your grandmother had her reasons.”
“Of course.” Haeun smiled. “She always did. I’m just thinking about practicality. If we’re going to manage the estate jointly, having certain documents siloed with one person seems—”
“Haeun,” your father said. Quiet. Warning. “I’m just raising it,” Haeun said pleasantly. “This is family. We can talk about family things.” The table had gone the particular kind of quiet where everyone is pretending not to listen while listening completely. You set your fork down. “Grandmother specified it in the will,” you said. “Mr. Oh read it out. I’m not sure what there is to discuss.”
“I’m not disputing the will,” Haeun said. “I’m asking whether it makes sense.”
“She thought it made sense,” you said. “I trust her judgment.”
“She was eighty-one and she hadn’t left this house in two years.” The silence that followed that sentence was a different quality entirely. Your mother put her glass down very carefully. Yang Junho cleared his throat and said something about the food being excellent, which was what men like him did when a table needed rescuing and he was the one with the social capital to do it. Your father laughed too quickly at something that wasn’t funny. Minjae became deeply interested in his plate. Jungwon wasn’t looking at your sister — instead at you — with an expression that was too controlled to read and too attentive to be neutral. Yerin said, lightly, pleasantly, into the recovering silence: “It must be wonderful to have a place like this to come home to. Even under sad circumstances.” She was looking at you when she said it. Even under sad circumstances. “It is,” you said. You held her gaze. “I’ve missed it.”
“Barcelona must be quite the change,” she said. “All that sun. All that distance.”
“I like distance,” you said pleasantly. “It gives you perspective.” Her smile stayed exactly where it was. “I imagine it does,” she said.
like it owed him something. “Your sister,” he said.
“I know.”
“She’s going to contest it.”
“She’s going to try,” you said. “She won’t succeed. Grandmother was meticulous.”
“She was,” he agreed. A pause. “She was meticulous about everything.” You thought about the notebook upstairs. The passage room tonight. The envelope against your chest earlier, both your names in her handwriting. “How much do you know?” you asked. Quietly. The same question as the garden, but in here it landed differently. In here it was just you two and the too-loud clock and the chipped tile and fifteen years of history in the walls. He looked at his hands on the table. “About the company — some. Not all. My father has been—” he paused, choosing the word— “selective about what he’s handed over.”
“Jungwon.”
“I know.” He looked up. “I know there’s something. I’ve been finding the edges of it for six months.” He held your gaze. “What did she leave you?”
“A notebook,” you said. “Seven years of notes. Dates, names, figures.”
He was very still. “My father’s name is in it,” you said. “Yours is too.” He looked at the table again. The muscle in his jaw moved once. “Tonight,” he said. “Show me tonight.”
“I will.” The clock ticked. The kitchen held you both the way it always had — indiscriminately, warmly, without judgment or agenda. Through the door you could hear the distant murmur of the sitting room. Your families on the other side of a wall. All their history and all their secrets and all the careful surfaces they maintained. “She sent me a tangerine once,” you said. Not because it was relevant. Because you needed a second.
Jungwon looked up.
“From the tree in the garden,” you said. “She packaged it up and posted it to Barcelona. Just one tangerine, wrapped in tissue paper, with a note that said the tree had a good year. Thought you should taste it. Nothing else.”
He was quiet for a moment. “She sent me a crossword clue once,” he said. “Just one clue. In the post. No puzzle, no page, just the clue on a card.” He almost smiled. “Seven letters. What two people share when they stop pretending.”
You looked at him. “Did you figure it out?” you asked.
“Eventually,” he said. He looked away first. “Honesty.” The clock ticked. The sitting room murmured. Neither of you said anything for a while, and the kitchen held you both, and outside the window the winter garden was dark and the fields beyond it were darker and somewhere in the walls of this house there were secret rooms and hidden documents and a dead woman’s careful architecture and the net was holding, still holding, over an abyss neither of you had looked directly at yet.
The door opened. Yerin stood in the doorway. Her eyes moved from you to Jungwon and back to you in a fraction of a second and her face showed nothing and showed everything. “There you are,” she said. Just to him.
“Just getting water,” Jungwon said. He stood up. Straightened. The professional composure settling back over him like a coat. Yerin’s eyes found yours one more time. The smile was small and precise and had teeth somewhere inside it. “Of course,” she said. Jungwon followed her out. You stood in the kitchen alone and listened to the clock tick and looked at the stool he’d been sitting on and thought about seven letters and everything that word contained and didn’t contain and how your grandmother had sent it to him in the post like a key and trusted him to find the lock eventually. You finished your water. You went upstairs. You sat on your bed with the notebook and the envelope and the Calvino and you waited for midnight.
—
Midnight in the manor sounded like this: The grandfather clock in the east corridor striking twelve with the particular resonance of something that had been marking time in the same place for longer than anyone alive could remember. The house settling into itself, old wood finding its resting position. Wind against the north-facing windows. And underneath all of it, the specific silence of a building full of sleeping people who didn’t know what was happening in its walls. You’d waited until one in the morning to be safe. You’d sat on your bed with the Calvino open to the Octavia chapter and read it three times and then put it face-down on the duvet and stared at the ceiling and thought about the crossword clue. Seven letters. What two people share when they stop pretending. Then you’d picked up the notebook and the envelope and the torch and gone to the third panel from the left.
Jungwon was already there. He’d brought a second candle and a blanket from somewhere, which was so specifically him — practical, quietly considerate, the kind of thoughtfulness that didn’t announce itself — that it did something small and inconvenient to your chest. He’d pushed the two chairs closer to the table and there was a thermos between them that smelled like barley tea and you stood in the entrance of the passage and looked at all of this and thought about your grandmother writing I have been patient because patience was what was needed and understood, not for the first time tonight, exactly what she had meant.
“You found the second tin,” you said. On the table beside the thermos: the olive green tin, open. And beside it, spread out in a loose arrangement, photographs. You crossed the room and looked at them. Fifteen photographs. Maybe more. All of you and Jungwon, all taken in this house, spanning — you picked them up one by one — what looked like a decade. You at nine in the passage room, cross-legged over the crossword, face screwed up in concentration. At eleven, standing in the kitchen covered in flour from some disaster you vaguely remembered involving a recipe and overconfidence. At thirteen, outside in the summer fields, both of you caught mid-run, the chickens a chaotic blur in the background, your face turned back toward the camera mid-laugh. At fifteen, sitting on the stone wall at the edge of the garden, shoulders touching, looking at something outside the frame, both of you with the particular quality of stillness that means you don’t know you’re being watched.
At seventeen. The last summer before Barcelona. The two of you in the library, you on the floor with a sketchbook, him in the armchair above you reading something, and neither of you looking at each other but the angle of your bodies saying everything that the lack of eye contact was trying not to say. Your grandmother had taken all of them. Arranged them. Put them in a tin in a secret room in the house she left specifically to you. I am leaving them the house and each other and every door I can think to unlock. “She documented us,” Jungwon said. He was standing beside you, looking at the photographs spread on the table. His voice was careful in the way it got when he was feeling something he hadn’t categorised yet.
“She documented everything,” you said. You sat down. He sat down. You poured the barley tea because your hands needed something to do. Then you put the notebook on the table. You walked him through it methodically the way your grandmother had recorded it — chronologically, without editorialising, the way she’d taught you to present information. Let the facts be the facts. Let them land before you decide what they mean. He listened without interrupting. That was one of the things about Jungwon that had always been true — he knew how to be still while someone was talking, genuinely still, not the performance of patience but the real thing. His father had it too but in him it felt like strategy. In Jungwon it had always felt like respect. You got to the woman’s name. The dates. The hotel in Busan. Jungwon looked at the notebook. “Your father.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Seven years that she documented. Possibly longer.”
He was quiet. “Does your mother know?”
“She knows something,” you said. “I don’t think she knows the shape of it.”
“Haeun?”
“I don’t know. Haeun would have used it by now if she did.” He nodded slowly. You turned to the next section. The company. The figures. The structure of the agreement between your families that had been built quietly over decades in the particular way that men build things they don’t want scrutinised — in pieces, in separate rooms, in the gaps between what was documented and what wasn’t. You watched Jungwon’s face while you walked him through it. He was very still. “You knew some of this,” you said. Not an accusation. A calibration.
“I knew the shape of it,” he said. “Not the detail.” He turned a page, read something, turned it back. “My father told me when I took over that there were legacy arrangements with certain partners that were — grandfathered in. His word. He said they were historical and that I didn’t need to concern myself with the mechanics, only the outcomes.”
“Did you accept that?” A pause. The candle moved. “For about four months,” he said. “Then I started finding things that didn’t add up and I started asking questions and my father told me I was looking too hard at things that didn’t need looking at.” He looked at the notebook. “I stopped asking questions to his face. I kept looking on my own.”
“What did you find?”
“Enough to know there’s a liability,” he said. “Enough to know that whatever this arrangement is, it would not survive scrutiny. Not legal scrutiny.” He looked at you. “Enough to know that if it came out, both companies would be implicated. Both families.” The candle. The stone walls. The photographs on the table.
“She knew,” you said. “She knew all of it and she left the documentation to me and she left you the crossword clue and she trusted us to—” you stopped. “To what?” he said.
“I don’t know yet,” you said honestly. “But she didn’t do this so we’d bury it again.”
He looked at the notebook for a long time. Then he reached out and turned to the last entry. Read it. His expression did something very quiet and very complicated. I trust them. I always have. He sat back. Pressed his hand over his mouth for a moment. Dropped it. “She should have told us,” he said. Not angry. Just — something underneath anger that hadn’t found its shape yet. “She told us everything,” you said. “We just didn’t have the key yet.” He looked at the photographs again. The one from the library, you on the floor, him in the chair, both of you tilted toward each other without knowing it. “She saw everything,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” you said. The word sat between you. Everything had a weight in this room, in this house, with these photographs spread on the table between you and the barley tea going cold and your grandmother’s handwriting on the pages of a notebook she’d spent seven years filling for this exact moment. You reached into your jacket and put the envelope on the table. Both your names. Her handwriting. Jungwon looked at it. “Now?” he said. You thought about the Octavia chapter. About nets and abysses and the things that hold. About patience, and what it was for, and when it ended. “Not yet,” you said. “There’s still the east corridor. The third door.”
He looked at you. “You want to go now.”
“I want to go now.” He almost smiled. It was the almost that got you — the way it stopped just short, the way the boy who had chased chickens with you was right there behind the composed professional surface, three millimetres from the outside, held back by three years and a girlfriend and a company and everything that had accumulated in the space your absence had left. He stood up. Picked up the torch. “Third door,” he said.
The east corridor at one in the morning was a different place entirely from the east corridor in daylight. The wallpaper, pale blue, faded at the seams, turned grey in the torchlight. The portraits of your grandmother’s family watched you pass with the unsettling patience of people who had been watching things happen in this house for a very long time. You moved quietly, both of you, the old instinct from childhood — sock feet on the floorboards, weight on the outside of the step, don’t breathe past the third portrait because the floor creaks. You didn’t breathe past the third portrait. Jungwon didn’t either. The third door. It was heavier than the others — solid wood, original to the house, with an iron handle that your grandmother had refused to replace with something modern. You turned it slowly and pushed and the room opened up in the torchlight.
Your grandmother had called it the old study. Your father and Yang Junho used it when they met here — papers spread on the desk, the door closed, the polite fiction of privacy in someone else’s house. It smelled of old paper and woodsmoke and faintly, underneath that, the cedar and something clean that you’d noticed when Jungwon had hugged you in the sitting room two days ago and had been careful not to think about since. He’d been in here recently. “You came here,” you said. Not an accusation. “After she died,” he said. He moved into the room, swept the torchlight along the walls. “I wanted to understand what my father and yours were doing in here. What they kept here.”
“Did you find anything?”
“The desk was clean,” he said. “Whatever they kept here they took when she died. Or before.” He stopped the torch beam at the far wall. “But she was smarter than that.” The far wall was bookshelves. Floor to ceiling, the same as the library on the other side of the passage, filled with the kind of books that accumulate in old houses — mismatched, well-read, organised by a logic that was entirely your grandmother’s. You crossed to them and ran the torchlight along the spines and then you remembered something. Third door, her note had said. And then: start with the east corridor. Not the room. The door itself. You turned back. The door was solid wood, original to the house. Iron handle. And on the back of it — you moved the torch slowly — carved into the wood at hip height, almost invisible, a small symbol. A circle with a line through it. The same symbol your grandmother used to mark the starting square of any puzzle she set you. Start here.
You crouched down. Ran your fingers along the bottom of the door frame. A loose board. Not rotten, not accidental. Deliberately loosened, the nails removed and replaced with something that held the board in place but gave when you pressed the right spot. You pressed the right spot.nThe board lifted. Inside: a metal document box, dark with age, sealed with a combination lock. Three digits. Jungwon crouched beside you. His shoulder against yours again. “She changed the combination every year,” he said. “She told me that once. She said the only constant was the starting number.”
“Seven,” you said immediately. He looked at you. “She always started with seven,” you said. “Every combination, every puzzle. Seven was the beginning. She said it was the only number that looked like someone thinking.” He took the box. Turned the dial. Seven. Then you looked at each other. “Her birthday,” you said. “The month.”
“Four,” he said. Seven. Four. One digit left. “The crossword clue,” you said slowly. “Seven letters. She sent it to you. The answer—”
“Honesty,” he said. “Eight letters.”
“No,” you said. “Think about what she actually wrote. What two people share when they stop pretending.” You looked at the lock. “She wouldn’t use the answer. She’d use the question.” Jungwon was quiet for a second. “The number of the clue,” he said. “She sent me one clue.”
“Which number was it?” He thought. The candle from the passage room was far away now, just a distant suggestion of warmth. In the torchlight his face was all shadow and focus and the particular expression he’d had at nine years old whenever a puzzle was almost solved. “One,” he said. “It was clue one across.”
Seven. Four. One. The lock opened. Inside the metal box: A folder of documents. Financial records, correspondence, agreements bearing both your fathers’ signatures, dated across fifteen years. The architecture of the thing your grandmother had recorded in her notebook, now in primary source form — not her observations but the actual evidence, the originals, the paper trail that would make a lawyer sit up very straight. She had not just documented it. She had collected it. For fifteen years she had quietly, methodically, with the patience of someone who understood that the right time was not now but was coming, gathered every piece of paper that passed through this house and made copies and built a case and put it in a box under the floor of the room where the men who didn’t know she was watching met to do their careful, private business.
Jungwon sat on the floor of the study with the documents spread around him and read. You sat beside him and read. The candle burned down in the passage room. At some point you’d both ended up with your backs against the wall beneath the window, shoulders touching, documents in your laps, and the torch propped against the skirting board pointing at the ceiling and making the room dim and amber. Outside, the manor was completely silent. Inside, the only sound was the occasional turning of a page.
Around three in the morning Jungwon said, quietly: “He knew I’d find this eventually.”
“My father?”
“Mine.” He turned a page. “He structured it this way on purpose. Grandfathered it in so that when I took over I’d inherit the liability without inheriting the knowledge.” He paused. “He was protecting himself. He thought if I didn’t know the detail I couldn’t be held responsible for knowing and saying nothing.”
“He was wrong,” you said.
“Yes,” Jungwon said. “He was.” You looked at the document in your lap. Your father’s signature at the bottom of an agreement dated eleven years ago. Neat, confident, the signature of a man who did not expect to be looked at too closely. “What do we do with this?” you said.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “But we don’t bury it.” She didn’t do this so we’d bury it again. Your own words from earlier, back to you. “No,” you agreed. “We don’t.” You sat on the floor of the old study in the dark with the evidence of your families’ careful deceptions around you and the envelope with both your names in your jacket and the photographs in the passage room and the clock somewhere in the east corridor counting its six extra minutes that nobody else knew about.
Jungwon’s head tipped back against the wall. He looked at the ceiling. “I used to think about what it would be like,” he said, “when you came back.” You were very still. “I’d built this whole — picture of it,” he said. “You walking in. Me being normal about it.” A short almost-laugh. “I was not normal about it.”
“You were professional,” you said. “You were very professionally warm.”
“I know,” he said. He sounded tired in a way that had nothing to do with three in the morning. “I’ve been professionally warm about a lot of things for a long time.” The torch light flickered. Steadied. “Jungwon—”
“Not yet,” he said quietly. He turned his head and looked at you and his face in the low amber light was very close and very tired and very much the face of someone carrying something he didn’t have a name for yet. “I know. I know there are — I know.” You looked at him. He looked at you. The house was completely silent. “Okay,” you said. Quietly. “Not yet.” He nodded. Looked back at the ceiling. You both sat there for another hour, reading your families’ secrets in the dark, shoulders touching, not saying the thing, the envelope in your jacket ticking like a clock. Outside, eventually, the dark began to grey at the edges. “We should go back,” you said.
“Yes,” he said. Neither of you moved for another minute. Then he gathered the documents with the careful deliberate hands of a man who had decided something, put them back in the box, locked it. Looked at the combination — seven, four, one — and then at you. “She really did plan everything,” he said.
“Down to the last detail,” you agreed. He almost smiled again. Three millimetres from the outside. “Infuriating woman,” he said. With so much love it wasn’t an insult at all. You put the box back under the board. You both stood up. In the corridor you walked in single file, sock feet, outside edge of the step, not breathing past the third portrait. At the point where the corridor split — your wing, his — you stopped. He stopped. “The envelope,” he said.
“Soon,” you said. He looked at you for a moment. The grey pre-dawn light from the window at the end of the corridor fell across half his face and left the other half in shadow and he looked like something your grandmother would have photographed — like something that belonged to this house, to this particular quality of light, to the specific hour before the world woke up and everyone put their surfaces back on. “Okay,” he said. He went left. You went right. You lay on your bed as the manor began to fill with the sounds of morning and you stared at the ceiling and you held the envelope on your chest over your heartbeat and you thought about seven letters and what they contained and you thought:
Soon.
—
You slept for three hours. It wasn’t restful sleep — it was the kind that happens to you rather than for you, pulling you under between one thought and the next and depositing you back on the surface before you’d actually recovered from anything. You dreamed about the passage room. About the photographs spread on the table. About your grandmother’s handwriting, the letters getting smaller and smaller until they were too small to read and you were pressing your face to the page trying to find the last thing she’d written and waking up with your cheek against the envelope. You lay there for a moment with the morning light coming through the curtains at the angle your grandmother had approved of and you listened to the manor breathing around you.
Somewhere below, the kitchen was already alive — the smell of rice and something warm coming up through the house the way it always had, the particular smell of this house in the morning that had lived in your memory for three years like a frequency you couldn’t quite tune out. In Barcelona your mornings smelled like coffee and exhaust and the bread from the bakery two streets over. You had loved that smell. You had also, on certain mornings, stood in your yellow-tiled kitchen and closed your eyes and tried to remember this one.
You got up. Showered. Dressed. Put the envelope in the drawer of your childhood desk beneath a sketchbook, which felt both insufficient and like exactly what your grandmother would do — hiding things in plain sight, in the most obvious containers, trusting the right people to know where to look. Then you went downstairs. The kitchen at eight in the morning held your mother, a cup of tea, and the particular quality of silence that meant she’d been sitting there long enough for the silence to have settled into something deliberate. She looked up when you came in. Her eyes moved over your face the way mothers’ eyes do — reading something, calibrating, deciding how much to say. “You were up late,” she said.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. Which was true. She nodded. Looked at her tea. “Your grandmother used to do that. Walk the house at night.” A pause. “She said the house was different in the dark. That you could hear it thinking.” You poured yourself tea and sat down across from her.
In the morning light your mother looked her age in a way she rarely allowed. The grief was closer to the surface now, unguarded, the performance of composed widowhood resting somewhere else for the hour before the house fully woke up. She had loved Han Sooja with the complicated ferocity of a daughter who had never quite understood her mother and had spent sixty years trying to. That love was real. You had never doubted it. “Are you alright?” you asked.
She looked at you for a moment. Something moved across her face — an assessment, a decision. “I’m managing,” she said. Which was not the same as yes and they both knew it. You wrapped your hands around your mug and thought about the notebook. About the woman’s name and the dates and Busan. About your grandmother sitting in this house for seven years watching your father’s careful second life and recording it and saying nothing to your mother because your mother had chosen not to see and Han Sooja had respected that choice while quietly preparing for the consequences of it. You thought about how to carry what you knew and not let it show. You were apparently not as good at this as your grandmother. “What is it?” your mother said.
“Nothing,” you said. “I’m just tired.” She looked at you for another moment. Let it go. “Haeun called a lawyer this morning,” she said. Conversational. Almost. “Her own lawyer. She says it’s just to understand her options.”
“Of course she did,” you said.
“She’s not—” your mother stopped. Started again. “She’s not wrong that your grandmother could have been clearer about her reasoning. For the records. The architectural documents.”
“She was very clear,” you said, carefully. “She put it in the will.”
“I know she did.” Your mother’s hands moved around her cup. “I know.” A pause that had more inside it than its length suggested. “Your grandmother kept a great deal to herself. I accepted that. I spent my whole life accepting that.” Something small and old in her voice. “I sometimes wonder what she knew that she didn’t tell me.” The kitchen clock ticked. You looked at your mother’s face. At the grief in it, and underneath the grief the older, more weathered thing that had been there longer. The thing that had learned to sit next to an absence and call it marriage. She knows something, you’d told Jungwon. I don’t think she knows the shape of it. “She loved you,” you said. “She just loved you in her own way.” Your mother smiled. Small, tired, true. “Yes,” she said. “She did.”
You found Haeun in the formal sitting room at nine with her laptop open and a woman you didn’t recognise sitting across from her — late forties, professional, the kind of person who carries a briefcase as a personality trait. The lawyer. Already here, already seated, already opening something on her tablet. Haeun looked up when you came in. Her smile was immediate and warm and about as genuine as a show home. “Good morning,” she said. “You look tired.”
“Good morning,” you said. “I see you’ve been busy.”
“Just preliminary conversations,” Haeun said lightly. “You know me, I like to understand things properly. This is Ms. Bae, she specialises in estate law.”
Ms. Bae nodded at you with the professional neutrality of someone being paid to have no opinions. “Haeun,” you said. “Grandmother has been dead for three weeks.”
“I know that.”
“Her body is barely—”
“I know that,” Haeun said. Her voice didn’t change. Didn’t sharpen. Stayed exactly where it was, which was somehow worse. “I’m not doing this to hurt anyone. I’m doing this because grandmother made decisions that affect this whole family and I think it’s reasonable to—”
“She made her decisions very deliberately,” you said. “Specifically. With full possession of everything she knew and everything she was.”
“She was eighty-one and isolated and possibly—”
“Don’t,” you said. Quiet. “Don’t say it, Haeun. Not in this house.” A silence. Ms. Bae became deeply interested in her tablet. Haeun looked at you for a long moment. And then, beneath the performance of reasonableness, you saw something real — something that wasn’t greed, not exactly, but the older wound underneath it. The child who had grown up knowing their mother had a favourite. Not unloved but not — first. Never quite first. You understood it. You even felt for it. But you had a notebook upstairs and an envelope in a drawer and a dead woman’s trust and you were not going to let that be dismantled because your sister was still trying to win an argument with someone who was no longer here to have it.
“I’m not going to fight you,” you said. “But I’m also not going to make it easy. Whatever grandmother left me she left me for a reason and I intend to honour that.” Haeun held your gaze. “Fine,” she said. The warmth had gone down to its lowest setting. “Then we’ll let the lawyers talk.” You left the room.
Yerin found you at eleven. You were in the garden — the formal part, the clipped hedges and the stone paths, where you’d gone to be outside and think and be somewhere that wasn’t a room full of someone else’s agenda. You had your sketchbook with you out of habit, but you hadn’t opened it. You were just sitting on the bench near the old sundial, which had been telling the wrong time since the seventies and which your grandmother had also refused to correct. She came down the path alone. No Jungwon. That was intentional — you registered it immediately, the way you registered everything about Yerin, with the involuntary alertness of someone in the presence of a thing that requires careful watching. She was dressed impeccably even at eleven in the morning in someone else’s country house garden. She sat down on the other end of the bench without asking and crossed her ankles and looked at the hedge in front of her and said nothing for long enough that it became its own kind of statement. You waited. “You grew up here,” she said finally.
“Yes,” you said. “The families are neighbours.”
“But you treated this house like yours.”
“My grandmother lived here,” you said. “She made it feel like ours. Mine and Jungwon’s.” The name landed. You’d done it deliberately, put it out there plainly, because you were tired and had slept for three hours and were not in the mood for the slow-motion version of this conversation. Yerin turned and looked at you directly for the first time. She had remarkable eyes — dark, steady, the eyes of someone who had decided a long time ago that she would not be the one to look away first. “He talks about this place like it raised him,” she said.
“It did, partly,” you said. “His family’s estate is half a kilometre that way.” You gestured. “We were back and forth constantly. His mother and mine were close.” A pause. “He and I were close.”
“Were,” she said. “We haven’t seen each other in almost three years,” you said. “People change.”
“Do they,” she said. Not a question. You looked at the sundial. “I’m not here to cause problems,” you said. “I came home because my grandmother died.”
“I know why you came home,” Yerin said. And then, very precisely: “It’s not why you’re staying that I’m thinking about.” You looked at her. She looked back. That steady, unblinking gaze. “I know what you two were,” she said. “Not because he told me — he’s very careful about what he tells me. Because of the way he is in this house.” She paused. “He’s different here. He laughs differently. He moves differently.” Something moved across her face that was not quite hurt and not quite anger and was instead something more complicated and more honest than either. “I’ve been with him for a year and a half and I have never seen him laugh the way he laughed in that kitchen two nights ago.” The garden was quiet. You didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say that wouldn’t be a lie or a cruelty. “I’m not stupid,” Yerin said. “I know what his father wants. I know what my family wants. I know what this relationship is built on and I know what it isn’t built on.” She turned and looked at the hedge again. “But I’m also not going to simply—” she stopped. Started again. “I have worked very hard to be what he needs. What everyone needs him to have.”
“That sounds exhausting,” you said. Quietly. Without any edge. She was quiet for a moment. “It is,” she said. Which surprised you. The honesty of it, the sudden flatness of it, stripped of the careful surface. “It really is.” You sat with that. The sundial gave its wrong time to the grey winter sky. “I don’t have a plan,” you said. Truthfully. “I don’t know what I’m doing here beyond what I’ve told you. I came home for the funeral. I’m dealing with the estate. I’ll go back to Barcelona.”
Yerin looked at you. “Will you.”
“I have a life there,” you said.
“Yes,” she said. “You do.” She stood up, smoothed her coat, looked down at you with those steady dark eyes. “And he has one here. One that was built very carefully. One that a lot of people are depending on.” A pause. “I want you to remember that.” She walked back up the path toward the house. You sat on the bench and watched her go and thought about what she’d said and what she hadn’t said and the specific way she’d said I have worked very hard to be what he needs with the exhaustion of someone describing a job they are very good at and do not love. You thought about Jungwon laughing in the kitchen. The three millimetres. You thought about a net over an abyss and what it meant to finally look down. You opened your sketchbook. You didn’t draw anything. You just sat with the blank page.
He found you there at noon. He came down the same path Yerin had come down an hour earlier and you watched him come and thought about what she’d said — he moves differently here — and looked for it and found it immediately, the thing she’d named. He walked like the house was familiar to him at the cellular level. Like his body remembered it even when the rest of him was trying to be someone who’d moved on. “Yerin talked to you,” he said. Not a question. “How did you know?”
“She told me,” he said. He sat down on the bench — the middle of it, not the far end. Closer than Yerin had sat. “She said she needed to talk to you and I asked her not to and she did it anyway.”
“She loves you,” you said. He looked at the sundial. “I know.”
“And you—”
“Don’t,” he said. Quietly. You stopped. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, looking at the ground between his feet. His jaw was tight. The professional composure was not all the way up this morning — three hours of sleep and a garden and nobody watching except you and it had slipped. “I know what you’re going to say,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You were going to ask if I love her.” He paused. “The answer is that I care about her and I respect her and I have not been—” he stopped— “I haven’t been fair to her. I know that. I’ve known it for—” another stop. Longer.
“Jungwon,” you said. He looked up. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said. “We’re not—” you gestured vaguely— “I’m not owed that.”
He looked at you for a long moment. “That’s the problem,” he said. His voice was very quiet. “That’s exactly the problem.” The wind moved through the formal garden. Somewhere across the grounds a door opened and closed. The manor held its breath. You looked at him. He looked at you. Three millimetres. “The envelope,” he said.
“Tonight,” you said. “Passage room.” He nodded. Looked away. Looked back. “She told me,” he said, “that you’d go back to Barcelona.”
“I have a life there,” you said. The same words.
“I know,” he said. He stood up. Straightened. The composure coming back up like a tide. “Tonight,” he said.
“Tonight,” you said. He went back up the path. You sat on the bench with your blank sketchbook page and the wrong-time sundial and the specific feeling of being someone standing at the edge of something enormous trying to decide whether enormous things were better walked toward or run from. Your grandmother had never run from anything. You closed the sketchbook.
—
The house went quiet at eleven. You heard it happen the way you always had — the gradual diminuendo of a building settling into night, the last doors closing, the last lights going off under the gap at the bottom of the corridor, the grandfather clock doing its twelve-stroke accounting of the hours. Your father had gone to bed early. Your mother had sat up reading, or pretending to read, until ten. Haeun and Minjae had retired without saying goodnight to you, which was its own kind of statement. Yang Junho had gone back to the Yang estate after dinner, taking his easy laugh and his careful warmth with him. Yerin was in the room at the end of the east guest corridor.
Jungwon was — you didn’t know exactly. His footsteps had gone past your door at ten-thirty and not come back. You sat on your bed with the envelope in your hands and the Calvino face-down beside you and you waited until the house was completely still.
Then you went to the third panel from the left.
He was already there. Both candles this time, placed at opposite ends of the small stone table, and the photographs still spread from two nights ago, and the barley tea thermos again because apparently this was something he did now — thought about whether you’d be cold, acted on it, said nothing about it. The second mismatched chair was pulled out at the angle that meant this is for you. You sat down. He sat down. You put the envelope on the table between the two candles.
Both your names. Her handwriting. The paper slightly worn at the fold from the number of times you’d handled it without opening it. You both looked at it. “I keep thinking,” Jungwon said, “that once we open it that’s it. Whatever she says becomes the thing she said. You can’t—” he paused— “you can’t unknow it.”
“We already know most of it,” you said.
“Not what she meant to do with it,” he said. “Not what she wanted from us.”
You looked at the envelope. “She wanted us to be ready,” you said. “That’s why she didn’t just leave it with the will. That’s why she put the notebook in the bedroom and the box under the floor and the photographs in the tin.” You turned the envelope over in your hands. “She was building up to this. She wanted us to find everything else first so that when we read this we’d—”
“Have the context,” he said.
“Be ready,” you said again.
He looked at you. “Are you?”
You thought about three years in Barcelona. About Sunday calls and tangerines in the post and the Calvino on your shelf and the way you’d stood in your yellow-tiled kitchen with a dead leaf in your hand and almost called him and didn’t. About the photograph on your grandmother’s dresser — your desk, your lamp, your small evidence of a life being built somewhere else. About the library. Seventeen years old. Him in the chair above you, you on the floor, neither of you looking at each other. “No,” you said honestly. “Open it anyway.”
He broke the seal. His hands were steady. Steadier than yours would have been — you knew that about yourself, that you went very shaken when things were enormous, that shakiness was your version of bracing.
He unfolded the paper with the care of someone handling something irreplaceable and laid it flat on the table between the candles. Her handwriting. Small, precise. Three pages, front and back, in the blue ink she’d used your entire life. You both leaned in and read.
To my granddaughter, and to Jungwon-ah.
I am writing this in October, which is the best month in this garden, and I am sitting at my desk with the window open and I can hear the tree. I want you to know that I am well as I write this. Clear-headed, if slower than I used to be. I have thought carefully about what I want to say and I have decided to say it directly because I am eighty-one years old and I have spent enough of my life being indirect and while I believe indirectness is an art form and frequently undervalued I think you two have earned something plainer.
First: the house. I am leaving it to you, my girl, because you understand what a building is. Not the walls or the deeds or the history that other people will try to tell you it represents. You understand that a house is a record of what happened inside it. That the walls remember. You will know what to do with what you find here and you will know what to do with the house itself when the time comes. I trust this completely.
Jungwon-ah: I am not leaving you the house because you already know where everything is. You have spent fifteen years learning its rooms and its passages and its particular way of holding secrets. You don’t need the deed. You need the person who has it.
Now. The harder things. I have kept records for seven years. You will have found them by now — the notebook, the box, all of it. I want to be clear about why I kept them. Not for revenge, though I will not pretend there is no satisfaction in the idea of your father finding out that I saw everything he thought he was doing privately. Not for leverage. I kept them because the truth was happening in my house and I refused to let it happen without a witness. Someone had to see it. I decided that person would be me. What you do with the records is your decision, not mine.
I have opinions, which I will share: the arrangement between the companies is not survivable in its current form and the longer it is maintained the larger the liability becomes. Jungwon-ah, your father built something with good intentions and poor judgment and the combination is always more dangerous than either alone. You are more careful than he is. You are also more honest, which he would consider a weakness and which I consider the only thing that will save you.
As for your father Y/N, I have watched him for twenty-two years. I have watched your mother choose not to watch him. I will not make that choice for her. When the time comes — and it will come, these things always do — she will need you both. Not to fix it. You cannot fix it. Just to stay.
And now the thing I have been working up to. I have watched you both for fifteen years. I have taken photographs and kept crosswords and sent tangerines in the post and asked questions I already knew the answers to and I have been, I think, excessively patient. I want to explain why. I was not waiting for the right moment. I was waiting for you both to become the people who could survive the right moment.
You were children and then you were young people and there is a specific kind of damage that happens when the right thing arrives before a person is ready to hold it and I was not willing to risk that with either of you. I believe you are ready now. I am saying this plainly because I am eighty-one and I have earned the right to be plain: I have never in my life seen two people more thoroughly and more stubbornly fail to see what was directly in front of them. I say this with tremendous love and only moderate exasperation.
You grew up beside each other. You ransacked my kitchen and chased my chickens and ran through my house with muddy shoes and I watched you do all of it and I watched what happened in the spaces between the noise, which is where the real things were. I watched you learn each other. I watched you become the people each other needed. I watched you not say it and not say it and not say it and I thought: they are seventeen, they have time.
And then you left, my girl. And I understood why, and I respected it, and I watched Jungwon-ah come and sit in my garden and not say anything about it for three years, and I watched you call me every Sunday from Barcelona and not ask about him directly, always sideways, always carefully, and I thought: they are going to need some help. This is the help.
I am giving you the house and I am giving you the records and I am giving you the passages and the photographs and the puzzles and the box under the floor. I am giving you October light through an open window and barley tea and two chairs in a room nobody else knows about. I am giving you every door I can think to unlock.
The rest is yours. I love you both. I have loved watching you. I am not afraid of where I’m going but I am sorry to miss what comes next. Take care of the tree.
— Halmoni.
P.S. Jungwon-ah; the seven of spades. You will remember what that means. It was always yours.
The candles burned. You read it once and then you sat back and looked at the stone ceiling and blinked several times in rapid succession. Your grandmother had said she was going to be plain and she had been plain and it had landed exactly as she’d intended it to, which was with the force of something that had been true for a very long time and had simply been waiting for someone to say it out loud.
Jungwon had not moved. He was still leaning forward, elbows on the table, reading the last page. Or re-reading it. Or sitting very still the way he did when something was enormous.
You looked at the side of his face. At the candlelight on it. At the line of his jaw and the way his eyes moved across the page and the three millimetres that had been there since you’d walked into the sitting room and found him across the room and felt your stomach drop straight through the floor. He sat back.He looked at the letter for another moment. Then he looked at you.
“The seven of spades,” he said. His voice was different. Quieter. Stripped of something.
“What does it mean?” you said. He reached into the pocket of his shirt. And he put something on the table. A playing card. The seven of spades. The one from the first tin, that you’d left there — or a second one, identical, worn at the edges with age.
“She gave it to me,” he said, “when I was sixteen. We were playing cards in this room and she dealt us both a hand and when I turned mine over there was a seven of spades on top and she said—” he paused— “she said that one’s yours. Keep it. And I didn’t know what she meant, I thought she was just being—” a brief sound that was almost a laugh— “herself. Being her. So I kept it.” He turned the card over in his fingers. “I’ve had it in my wallet for seven years. I take it out sometimes. I never knew what it meant.”
You looked at the card. “Seven of spades,” you said. “In cartomancy—”
“I looked it up eventually,” he said. “Three years ago. Right after you left.”
“What does it mean?”
He put the card down on the table. Looked at it. “Unfinished business,” he said. “Something that was set in motion and hasn’t resolved. Something that’s still—” he stopped.
“Still in motion,” you said.
“Yes.” The candles. The stone room. Fifteen photographs on the table. Your grandmother’s handwriting on three pages of blue ink telling you both the plainest truth she’d saved for last. I have never in my life seen two people more thoroughly and more stubbornly fail to see what was directly in front of them. “She was right,” you said quietly. “About the thoroughly and stubbornly part.”
“Infuriating woman,” he said again. But his voice broke slightly on the last word and it wasn’t exasperation at all, it was grief, it was the specific grief of missing someone who knew you completely and there was nothing to do with that kind of grief except let it be exactly as large as it was.
You reached across the table. Your hand over his. He looked down at it. He didn’t move for a moment. Then he turned his hand over beneath yours and held it. Just that — palm to palm, his fingers closing around yours, the simple warm weight of it. You sat like that for a while. “Jungwon,” you said eventually.
“I know,” he said.
“There’s—” you started. “There’s a lot happening. The records, the companies, Haeun, your father—”
“I know.”
“And Yerin.” His hand tightened slightly around yours. Not pulling away.
“I know,” he said. A third time. A different weight each time.
You looked at the letter. At the last line before the postscript. I am not afraid of where I’m going but I am sorry to miss what comes next. “She would have loved this,” you said. “Being right.”
“She would have been unbearable about it,” he said.
“She would have been so restrained,” you said. “She would have just looked at us and not said anything and somehow that would have been worse.” He made that almost-laugh sound again. It was closer this time. It was getting closer. “She sent me one tangerine,” you said.
“She made me finish the crossword,” he said.
“She kept fifteen photographs in a tin.”
“She put fresh batteries in the torch.” You both looked at the candles. “She planned everything,” you said.
“Everything,” he agreed. His thumb moved. Once, across your knuckles. The smallest possible thing.
The candle on the left burned down to its base and went out. The room got smaller. The remaining candle made everything amber and close and the stone walls pressed in gently and the photographs were spread on the table and his hand was in yours and outside the manor the winter was doing whatever winter does at two in the morning.
“Tell me something about Barcelona,” he said. Quietly. Like he was asking for something he’d wanted for a long time and had finally decided to ask for. You thought about it.
“There’s a building,” you said. “In the Eixample. Not famous, not on any list, nobody goes specifically to see it. But at five in the afternoon in autumn the light hits the facade in this particular way and it looks like—” you paused, finding the words— “it looks like it’s remembering something. Like the building is having a memory.” You paused. “I used to walk past it on the way home and think about this house. About how old buildings hold things.” He was quiet. “I used to think about you,” you said. Because your grandmother had spent three pages telling you to stop not saying things. “When I walked past it. About showing you.”
He looked at your joined hands. “I used to drive past the airport,” he said. Not looking up. “When flights from Barcelona came in. Not to meet anyone. Just—” he stopped.
“Just,” you said.
“Just,” he said. The last candle flickered. In the amber half-dark you looked at each other and everything your grandmother had written was true and had been true for longer than either of you had been willing to name it and the net was still holding, still holding, and below it was the abyss which you were both finally, for the first time, looking directly at.
He leaned forward. You leaned forward. The candle went out.
In the dark: his forehead against yours. His breath. Both your hands on the table between the photographs. Just that. Just the weight of it. The held thing, finally held between two people instead of inside one. “Not yet,” he said. Against your forehead. His voice was barely sound.
“I know,” you said.
“I have to—” he stopped. “There are things I have to do first. Things I have to say. To her. To my father. I can’t—” he exhaled. “I won’t do this like it’s something to hide. I won’t do that to you.”
Your eyes had adjusted to the dark. You could just see the shape of him. The outline. “Okay,” you said.
“Soon,” he said. And it was your word back to you, the one you’d been handing back and forth for days, and in his mouth it meant something different now. It meant a door about to open rather than one being held closed.
“Soon,” you said.
You stayed like that for another minute. Foreheads together in the dark. Hands on the table. The letter between the extinguished candles.
Then you both sat back. He found the torch. Clicked it on. The room came back. He looked at you in the white torchlight and you looked at him and there was something different in the air of the room now, something that had been there all along but had finally been acknowledged, and it was terrifying and it was also — underneath the terrifying — the most settled you had felt since you’d stepped off the plane.
He folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope. “Keep it with the notebook,” he said.
“I will.” He stood. You stood. He looked at the seven of spades on the table. He picked it up. Held it for a moment. Then he put it in your hand.
“She said it was mine,” he said. “I think she meant it was ours.” You closed your fingers around it. He picked up the torch. You followed the light out of the secret room and back into the walls of the manor, and the house held you both the way it always had, and somewhere in the east corridor the grandfather clock ticked through its six extra minutes that nobody else knew about, and the walls remembered everything.
—
Morning came in like it hadn’t been briefed on what happened the night before. Pale winter light through the curtains. The kitchen smell rising through the house. The grandfather clock doing its eight-stroke announcement of an hour you’d technically only slept through three of.
You lay on your back with the seven of spades on the nightstand beside the Calvino and the envelope in the drawer and you stared at the ceiling and felt the specific quality of a day that was going to be significant before it had done anything yet. Forehead against yours. His breath. Soon.
You got up.
You didn’t see Jungwon at breakfast. His seat was empty. Yerin’s too. You registered this with the carefully neutral expression of someone who had been trained by their grandmother to reveal nothing at inopportune moments and you ate your rice and drank your tea and listened to your father talk to Yang Junho about something that had nothing to do with anything your grandmother had documented and you watched your father’s face and thought about the woman’s name recurring through seven years of entries.
Yang Junho was in good form this morning. Easy, expansive, filling the room the way he always did. He’d stayed over — the guest room on the second floor, the one with the good view of the garden. He spoke warmly about your grandmother, about the estate, about the families’ long history together and what a comfort it was to be here, to be among people who understood the weight of a loss like this.
Your mother smiled at him. Your father nodded. You watched the space between the three of them and thought about what your grandmother had written. Your father built something with good intentions and poor judgment and the combination is always more dangerous than either alone. She had meant Yang Junho. But sitting here watching your own father nod along, the sentence fit like a coat made for two people.
Haeun arrived at half past eight with the bright eyes of someone who’d slept well because they’d externalised all their feelings into legal strategy. She kissed your mother’s cheek and sat down and accepted coffee and was charming to Yang Junho and you watched her work the table and thought: she has no idea. She is fighting about the wrong things entirely. None of them know what’s in this house. None of them know what’s in the walls.
You found out where Jungwon was at nine-fifteen when you were coming back from the garden and heard voices in the east corridor. Not arguing. Not quite. But the specific register of a conversation that was trying very hard not to become an argument and was losing. Yerin’s voice, low and controlled: “I just want to know if something changed.”
Jungwon’s voice, careful, deliberate, the voice he used when he was being honest and it was costing him: “Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
A pause. “Yerin—”
“Don’t.” A silence. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you’re managing me.” You had stopped walking. You were standing three metres from the bend in the corridor with your hand flat against the pale blue wallpaper and you were not moving.
“I’m not managing you,” he said. “I’m trying to—”
“You’ve been trying to say something since we got here,” she said. “I’ve been watching you try to say it for three days. And last night you didn’t come to bed until four in the morning and you thought I was asleep but I wasn’t.” A long silence.
When he spoke again his voice was different. Quieter. The professionalism gone all the way down. “I know,” he said.
“Is it her,” Yerin said. Not a question. The wallpaper under your hand was cool and slightly rough, the texture of something very old.
“It’s not—” he started.
“Jungwon.”
“It’s not that simple,” he said. “It was never—” a pause— “I didn’t come here intending for anything to—”
“I know you didn’t,” she said. And the thing in her voice was not what you expected. It wasn’t fury. It was the exhausted, clear-eyed honesty of someone who had known something for a long time and had chosen not to name it and had now run out of reasons not to. “I’ve known since we arrived. I think I knew before we arrived. I think I’ve known for—” she stopped herself.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it. You could hear that he meant it completely.
“Don’t apologise for having feelings,” she said. “Apologise for letting me come here. For letting me stand in that sitting room and meet her and pretend I didn’t see it immediately.” Her voice wavered once, precisely once, and then steadied. “Apologise for making me the person who had to see it clearly while you were still pretending.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Different weight.
“Is it real?” she said. “Or is it just — this house, the history, grief making everything feel—”
“It’s real,” he said quietly. “It’s been real for a long time. Before Barcelona. Before the company. Before any of this.” A pause. “I should have known that before I—” he stopped. “I should have been more honest with you from the beginning. About what I was carrying.” You closed your eyes.
“Your father is going to be furious,” Yerin said. Not bitterly. Just factually.
“I know.”
“Mine too.”
“I know.” Another silence. Longer. You could hear the quality of two people recalibrating.
“I don’t hate her,” Yerin said finally. “I wanted to. It would be easier.” A short sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “She’s exactly what I expected her to be. Which is somehow the worst part. I’m going to need some time,” she said. “And I’m going to need you to not be — kind about this. I can’t do kind right now.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Go sort out whatever you need to sort out,” she said. “I’ll handle the rest.” Footsteps. You moved. Fast, silent, back around the bend in the corridor and into the doorway of the linen room, pressing yourself into the shadow of it, heart going considerably faster than was dignified.
Yerin came around the corner and walked past you without seeing you. Her face was composed and dry-eyed and very, very tired and she walked like someone who had made a decision and was now simply executing it, one step at a time, down the corridor and around the next bend and gone. You stood in the linen room doorway and breathed.
You didn’t go to him. That was the right thing and you knew it was the right thing — he needed time, she needed time, the corridor needed to stop being the corridor where that conversation had happened before it was the corridor where you appeared. So you went to the library instead and sat in the armchair — his armchair, seventeen years old, the photograph, you on the floor — and opened the Calvino and read three pages without taking in a single sentence.
The library was the warmest room in the house in winter. South-facing windows, old rugs, the smell of paper and wood and decades of accumulated reading. Your grandmother had called it the room that minds its own business, which was the highest compliment she gave to spaces. You put the Calvino face-down on your knee and looked at the ceiling.
He’d said it. It’s been real for a long time. Before Barcelona. You thought about being seventeen in this room. Him in the chair above you. Neither of you looking at each other and both of you angled toward each other like plants toward light, so obvious in retrospect, so invisible from the inside. You thought about the morning you left for Barcelona. Five-thirty, still dark, your father loading the car. Your mother with tea in a thermos for the journey. And Jungwon — he’d come over, you hadn’t expected him, you’d seen the lights of his car in the driveway and felt something lurch in your chest and he’d gotten out and stood there with his hands in his pockets and said text me when you land and you’d said I will and the distance between you had been three metres and had felt like something that would grow and that you were choosing to let grow and that you were not going to say anything about.
That was all. Three years of Sundays with your grandmother and not once had you called him directly. Thoroughly and stubbornly, she’d written. I say this with tremendous love and only moderate exasperation. You pressed the book against your face and made a sound into it that was not your most dignified moment.
The knock on the library door came at eleven. Not Jungwon. You knew by the knock — two short, businesslike, the knock of someone who had decided they were coming in regardless of the answer. “Come in,” you said.
Your father. He came in and closed the door behind him with the careful quietness of someone who wanted this conversation to stay in the room. He was dressed well, as always, silver-templed, handsome in the way that photographs well, and this morning there was something different in the way he was holding himself. A tension in the shoulders. Something behind his eyes that was working too hard to look like nothing. “I thought I’d find you here,” he said.
“It’s a good room,” you said. He looked around it. Nodded. Came and sat in the chair across from you — not Jungwon’s chair, the other one, lower, the one your grandmother had used when she wanted to read facing the garden.
“How are you doing?” he said. “Really. With all of it.”
“I’m managing,” you said.
“The business with Haeun and the will—”
“I can handle Haeun.”
“I know you can.” He smiled. The practiced warmth of it. “You’re the most capable person in this family, you know that. You always have been. Your grandmother always said so.” You looked at him. He was too eager to know what the letter said, too careful about the manor.
“She mentioned you in the letter,” you said. You hadn’t planned to say it. But you were your grandmother’s granddaughter and you had learned from the best and sometimes the direct approach was the one that told you the most. His face did not change. That was the tell — a different face would have changed, would have shown surprise or curiosity, would have asked what did she say?
His face stayed precisely where it was, which meant he’d been expecting this, which meant he’d been thinking about what she might have known and deciding how to handle it. “That’s kind,” he said. “She was a remarkable woman.”
“She was,” you said. “She was also very thorough.”
“What do you mean?” he said. Light. Careful.
“She kept records,” you said. “Of the house. Of the people in it. Of — everything, really. You know how she was.”
“Of course,” he said. The smile staying exactly where it was.
“Dad,” you said. Quietly. Not an accusation. Just his name. And something shifted. Something small but real — a crack in the surface, so quick you’d have missed it if you weren’t watching carefully, if you hadn’t been trained your whole life by the woman who’d taught you that the truth lived in the space between what people said and what their face did when they said it.
“Whatever you think you know,” he said. Still quiet. Still composed. “I want you to understand that things between your mother and I are—”
“Complicated?” you said.
“Adult,” he said. “They’re adult. They’re not—” he stopped. Reorganised. “Your grandmother had opinions about my marriage that she never fully expressed to me but which I was always aware of. Whatever she wrote—”
“I haven’t decided what to do with it yet,” you said. That landed. He looked at you. Really looked at you, for the first time in the conversation, with the eyes of a man recalibrating what he was dealing with.
“You’re very like her,” he said. Slowly. And it wasn’t a compliment exactly and it wasn’t a threat exactly and it sat in the space between those two things doing something complicated.
“Thank you,” you said. As if it had been a compliment.
He stood up. Straightened his jacket. Moved toward the door. At the door he stopped. “The architectural records,” he said. Without turning around. “The original documents. The floor plans.” A pause. “Is there anything in them that would be — relevant to current matters.”
You thought about the metal box under the floor of the third room. The fifteen years of documents. His signature at the bottom of an agreement dated eleven years ago. “I haven’t gone through everything yet,” you said. He nodded. Once. And left.
—
The thing about a house full of people keeping secrets is that the secrets create pressure. And pressure, sustained long enough, finds the weakest point. The weakest point turned out to be the sitting room at two in the afternoon when the families had reconvened in the way they kept reconvening, pulled together by the gravity of the occasion and the shared fiction that everything was normal, that this was simply a gathering of old friends in mourning, that the ground was solid.
Yang Junho was telling a story about your grandmother — a good one, genuinely funny, about a business meeting she had attended thirty years ago and dominated completely without ever raising her voice. Your mother was laughing. Your father was laughing. Even Haeun was laughing.
Jungwon was sitting across the room. He’d come in ten minutes ago and taken the chair by the window and met your eyes briefly when he sat down and then looked away. He hadn’t spoken much. Yang Junho had put his hand on his son’s shoulder when he came in and Jungwon had not visibly reacted and you had watched the specific quality of that not-reacting and understood that something had already happened between them this morning.
Yerin was not in the room. Nobody had asked where she was.
You were watching the fire when Haeun’s phone rang. She glanced at it, made a small apologetic gesture, and stepped out. Two minutes later she came back in and her face had done something you hadn’t seen it do in a very long time — it had gone genuinely, unperformatively still. The stillness of shock. She looked at your father. “I need to speak with you,” she said. “Now.”
The room shifted. Your father’s laugh ended. “Haeun—” your mother said.
“Not you,” Haeun said. Still looking at your father. Her voice had no warmth in it at all, no performance, nothing. “Just him.”
“Whatever you need to say—” your father started.
“I was just on the phone with Ms. Bae,” Haeun said. And something in her voice made everyone in the room go very still. “She’s been going through the estate filings. The things that were submitted publicly as part of the probate record.” She paused. The pause was a grenade with the pin already pulled. “She found a company filing. Seven years ago. A subsidiary registered under a holding name.” She looked at your father. “Your name is on it. And so is the name of a woman who is listed as a joint director.”
The fire crackled. Your mother turned to look at your father. And on your father’s face — just for a moment, one unguarded moment before the composed surface came back up — was the expression of a man who had known this day was coming for seven years and had convinced himself it wouldn’t. “Haeun,” he said. Warning.
“Her name is Park Jooyeon,” Haeun said. She said it clearly, without hesitation, the way you rip off a plaster because fast is kinder than slow. “She’s been listed as a director of your subsidiary for seven years. The filing also shows a residential address which is—” she glanced at her phone— “not this house.” Your mother said nothing. The room held its breath.
“I think,” Yang Junho said, standing up with the practiced authority of a man who had been managing rooms for forty years, “that this is perhaps a family conversation—”
“Sit down, Junho,” your mother said. He sat down. Everyone looked at your mother. She was looking at your father. Her face was doing something you had never seen it do and hoped never to see again — not anger, not shock, but the specific expression of a person watching something they already knew become something they could no longer choose not to know. The shape of it finally arriving. The avoidance finally over. “How long,” she said. Your father opened his mouth. “Don’t lie to me,” she said. Very quietly. “I have lived in the shape of this lie for long enough. Don’t make me hear another one.”
“Mum—” you said.
“Not now,” she said. Without looking at you. Still looking at him.
“At least twenty years,” Haeun said. She’d gone very pale. Her voice had lost its edge — she’d wanted ammunition and she’d gotten a detonation and they were different things and she was just now feeling the difference. “Ms. Bae found earlier filings. Different company name. Same address.”
Twenty years. The number went around the room. Your mother stood up. “I would like everyone to leave this room,” she said. With the composure of someone who had spent sixty years learning from Han Sooja how to be still when everything was breaking. “Except for my husband.”
People stood. Moved. Yang Junho put his hand briefly on your mother’s shoulder as he passed and she didn’t acknowledge it and he didn’t require her to. You stood in the doorway. Your mother looked at you. Her eyes were dry. They would probably stay dry — that was her way, the Han way, grief and fury going inward first and only surfacing when she was ready to let them. You recognised it because you did it too. She gave you the smallest nod.
The corridor outside the sitting room. Jungwon was there. He’d come out just ahead of you and he was standing at the window at the end of the corridor with his back to the room, looking out at the winter garden, his hands loose at his sides. You came and stood beside him.
Below: the formal garden, the stone paths, the sundial giving its wrong time. The bench where Yerin had sat beside you. The path where you’d watched him walk back to the house with his composure settling over him like a coat. “She planned this too,” you said quietly. “Not the sitting room. But — she knew this would happen. Eventually. She wrote it in the notebook. It will come, these things always do.”
“Yes,” he said.
“She wanted us here when it did.”
“Yes,” he said again. You looked at the garden.
“Your father,” you said. “This morning.” He exhaled. Not a sigh — something more deliberate than that. Something he’d been holding since before breakfast.
“He came to me at eight,” he said. “He’d already spoken to yours. Some kind of warning system they’d apparently arranged.” His jaw tightened. “He told me there might be some questions raised about the companies in the coming days and that I should be prepared to manage the narrative.”
“Manage the narrative,” you said.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him,” Jungwon said carefully, “that I’d been looking at the companies for six months and that I thought what he’d built with your father was a liability and that I wasn’t prepared to manage any narrative that involved me pretending I didn’t know what I knew.”
“How did he take that?”
“About as well as you’d expect.” You looked at his profile. The set of his jaw. The tiredness in him that was different from yesterday’s tiredness — this was the tiredness of someone who had said the honest thing to their father and was living in the aftermath.
“Yerin left,” he said. “An hour ago. Her driver came.”
“I know,” you said. “I heard — I was in the corridor. This morning. I didn’t mean to hear.”
He looked at you. “How much?”
“Enough,” you said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He looked back at the garden. “She was right about all of it. I wasn’t fair to her.” A pause. “She deserved better than what I gave her.”
“She’s going to be alright,” you said. Because it was true — you’d seen it in Yerin’s face, that hard clear-eyed competence. She would grieve this in private and then she would be formidable again. Women like Yerin always were.
“I know,” he said. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” you said. “It doesn’t.” Below, the sundial. The wrong time. Your grandmother’s unrepentant refusal to correct anything that she’d decided was fine as it was. Inside the sitting room your mother was having the conversation that had been twenty years in the making.
In the walls of the house the passages waited, the photographs on the table in the candlelit room, the seven of spades somewhere in your jacket. “What happens now?” you said.
He turned from the window and looked at you directly and his face had none of the professional composure on it and none of the careful distance and was just — him. Tired and honest and present in the way he’d been at one in the morning on the floor of the old study and in the way he’d been at seventeen in the library and in the way he’d always been when it was just you and the house and none of the surfaces required. “Now,” he said, “everything falls apart for a while.”
“And then?”
He looked at you for a long moment. “And then we see what’s left,” he said. From behind the sitting room door, muffled and distant, your mother’s voice. Not loud. Never loud. But with an edge in it like a clean cut, precise and final, the voice of a woman who had decided that the shape of this particular truth was one she was done living inside.
The house held it all. The grief and the reckoning and the long-delayed arrivals of things that had been on their way for years. The walls remembered. They always had. Your grandmother had known that. She’d counted on it.
—
The house didn’t sleep that night. Not really. It had the shape of sleeping — quiet corridors, dark rooms, the grandfather clock marking hours into silence — but underneath it was awake the way houses get when something significant has happened inside them. Like the walls were still processing. Like the rooms needed time to absorb what they’d held that afternoon.
Your mother had come out of the sitting room at four o’clock. She’d walked past you in the corridor with her back straight and her face composed and her eyes doing the thing they did — grief going inward, fury going inward, everything going inward to be dealt with in private on her own terms in her own time. She’d touched your face with one hand as she passed. Just that. Her palm against your cheek for three seconds, warm and dry, and then she’d gone upstairs.
Your father had left the sitting room twenty minutes later. He’d taken his coat from the rack by the front door and gone outside and you’d watched from the corridor window as he walked down the front drive and stood at the gate and made a phone call and you had not needed to wonder who he was calling.
Haeun had found you at five and said I didn’t mean for it to come out like that and you’d said I know because you did know — she’d wanted leverage and had accidentally dismantled the family instead and the gap between those two things had clearly shaken her more than she’d expected. You’d made her tea. You’d sat with her in the kitchen while she held the mug and stared at the table. That was the most honest you’d been with each other in years, sitting in silence while your family reconfigured itself in the rooms above you.
Yang Junho had left at six. Businesslike, minimal. He’d shaken your father’s hand when your father came back in and something had passed between them in that handshake — something that looked like a renegotiation — and then he was gone.
Jungwon had stayed. You’d seen him at dinner, which was quiet and reduced and nothing like the dinners this house was built for. Your mother had come down and eaten and said almost nothing and your father had sat at the opposite end of the table from her and the distance between them had the specific quality of a distance that had always existed but had only just been measured.
Haeun and Minjae had left after dinner. Minjae had squeezed your shoulder on the way out, which was the most he’d ever communicated to you directly and which you’d appreciated. And then the house had gone quiet. And you had lain on your bed and stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep and sleep had declined the invitation.
The clock in the east corridor struck two when you were already in the kitchen. You hadn’t turned the overhead light on. Just the small light above the stove, the one that had always been there, the one that turned the kitchen amber and warm and made it look the way it looked in every memory you had of it.
You were standing at the counter with both hands wrapped around a mug of tea you hadn’t drunk yet and you were looking at the window above the sink and the darkness outside it and you were thinking about your mother’s palm against your cheek. Just to stay, your grandmother had written. Not to fix it. You cannot fix it. Just to stay.
You heard him before you saw him. The particular sound of his footsteps — the outside edge of the step, old habit, the way you moved in this house at night without deciding to. The door opened. You didn’t turn around. He came in. Stopped. Registered the amber light and you at the counter and said nothing for a moment. Then he crossed the room and stood beside you at the counter and looked at the dark window and also said nothing. You handed him your tea. He took it. Drank. Handed it back. “How is she?” he said. Quietly.
“She went to bed at nine,” you said. “I don’t think she’s sleeping either.”
“No,” he said.
“He’s in the guest room,” you said. “The east one. He didn’t try to go to their room.”
“Small mercies,” Jungwon said. The clock in the east corridor was very faint from here. Just a suggestion of ticking. The kitchen had its own sound — the refrigerator’s low hum, the settling of the old pipes, the back door with the broken latch occasionally sighing in the wind.
“Your father,” you said.
“We talked again after dinner,” he said. “When you were with your mother.” He paused. “I told him I’ve been building a case for six months. That I know what the arrangement is. That I’m going to have to restructure the company’s position and that it’s going to require disclosure and that he needs to be prepared for that.”
“How did he take it?”
“He told me I didn’t understand business.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I understood it well enough to know that what he’d built was going to collapse eventually and that the only question was whether we were the ones who dismantled it carefully or whether it fell on us.” A pause. “He said I sounded like your grandmother.”
“Good,” you said. Something moved in Jungwon’s face. Almost a smile. You put the mug down. Turned around and leaned against the counter with your arms crossed not as a defence but as something to do with your hands. He turned too, mirroring you, and you stood there facing each other in the amber kitchen light and the house was completely quiet and you were both in old clothes — him in a dark t-shirt and soft trousers, you in whatever you’d put on when sleep became definitively not happening — and there were no surfaces up at two in the morning in this kitchen. There never had been. That was the thing about this room. It didn’t allow for them.
“She’s going to be alright,” you said. About your mother. About the specific quality of her composure.
“I know,” he said. “She’s a Han woman.”
“Don’t let her hear you say it like that or she’ll take it as an insult.”
“She’d be right,” he said. “It was completely a compliment.”
You looked at him. He looked at you. The refrigerator hummed. “Jungwon,” you said.
“Yes,” he said. Not a question.
“What you said this morning. To your father. About the company.” You held his gaze. “That was the hard version. The harder version than anything I’ve asked you to do.”
“It needed to be done,” he said.
“I know. I’m saying — I know what it cost.” He looked at you for a moment. Something in him settling, like a weight redistributed. “She would have approved,” he said.
“She would have handed you the crossword and not said anything and that would have been the approval,” you said. He made that sound again, the almost-laugh, and this time it came all the way out — quiet, real, and the boy who had chased chickens was fully present in it and the three millimetres collapsed entirely and you felt it in your sternum like a struck bell.
He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. His hand stayed. Cupped the side of your face. You went very still. His thumb moved along your cheekbone. The same gesture your mother had used in the corridor except that this one was slow and deliberate and asking something.
“I talked to Yerin,” he said. Quietly. “She called tonight. We — it’s done. It’s properly done. I wanted you to know that.”
“Okay,” you said. Your voice was not entirely steady.
“I told you I wouldn’t do this like something to hide,” he said. “I meant it.”
“I know you did.” His eyes moved over your face. Unhurried. The way he moved in this house — like he knew every room and had time.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about what to say. Since the passage room. I had things arranged. Sentences.” The corner of his mouth. “They’re all gone.”
“Say it without sentences,” you said.
He looked at you. “I drove past the airport,” he said. “Every time a flight came in from Barcelona. I did that for three years. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself I was just—” he stopped. “I didn’t tell myself anything, actually. I just drove there.”
Your hand came up and covered his where it held your face. His breath shifted slightly. “I have my grandmother’s crossword clue for you in my head,” you said. “Seven letters. I keep thinking about it.”
“Honesty,” he said.
“Honesty,” you said. And then neither of you said anything else.
He closed the distance — not rushed, not after all this time, not after three years and this house and fifteen photographs and both your names on an envelope — he closed it like he’d been planning the exact geometry of it for longer than either of you were going to admit, one hand still cradling your face and the other coming to rest at your waist and his mouth meeting yours with the specific quality of something that had been waiting long enough that when it arrived it felt less like a beginning than like a return.
You kissed him back with every Sunday call you hadn’t made and every time you’d almost said something and every seven of spades and every tangerine in the post and the whole accumulated weight of it came through in the way your hands went to the front of his shirt like they already knew where they were going.
He made a quiet sound against your mouth. His hand moved from your waist to the small of your back and pulled you closer and you went, easily, completely, like a thing that had been resisting gravity for three years finally letting go. He tasted like tea and the faint ghost of something warmer and he kissed the way he did everything in this house — like he knew the rooms, like he had time, thorough and unhurried and devastatingly present.
His hand slid from your face into your hair and tipped your head back and you made a sound you didn’t intend to make and felt him inhale sharply at it. “Hi,” he said against your mouth. His voice low and a little wrecked already.
“Hi,” you said.
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His hand still in your hair, yours still twisted in his shirt, both of you breathing like you’d been doing something more athletic than standing in a kitchen.
In the amber light his eyes were dark and his mouth was slightly swollen and he was looking at you with an expression that had nothing professional or composed or carefully maintained about it whatsoever. He was looking at you the way he looked at the passages when they opened — like something that had been there all along and was finally, finally being seen. “Three years,” he said quietly.
“More than three years,” you said. He kissed you again and this one was less careful — his hands moving down your back, yours sliding up to his shoulders, the counter behind you taking your weight as he pressed closer.
He kissed down the line of your jaw and you tilted your head back and looked at the amber ceiling and thought distantly that your grandmother had planned everything except possibly this specific configuration in her kitchen at two in the morning and that she would have been insufferably pleased about it.
“Upstairs,” you said. He lifted his head. Looked at you. Checking.
“Yes,” you said, to the question he hadn’t asked.
Your childhood bedroom with the sketchbooks on the shelf and the Barcelona exhibition poster and the corkboard above the desk looked different at two in the morning with Jungwon closing the door behind him and turning to look at you across the room. He looked at the room first. The way he always looked at rooms — registering, cataloguing, the thing your grandmother had done too, the thing you did.
Then he looked at you. “I used to stand outside this door,” he said. “When we were kids. Waiting for you to come out.”
“I know,” you said. “I could always hear you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I liked knowing you were there,” you said. Something in his face. Something very warm and very undone. He crossed the room. There was a quality to being undressed by someone who had known you for fifteen years that had nothing to do with unfamiliarity and everything to do with its opposite — the specific intimacy of someone who already knew the shape of you in other ways and was learning this one slowly, like a new room in a house they’d lived in for years.
His hands were unhurried. His attention was total. He treated each thing like it mattered and it made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with sadness. You pulled his shirt over his head and put your hands flat against his chest and felt his breathing. “Still thinking in sentences?” you asked.
“Not even close,” he said. He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up and kissed you properly — deep and unhurried and completely in charge of it — and you felt the dynamic settle into place like something clicking. Jungwon had always had this quality. This absolute certainty. In every other context you’d spent years watching it from the outside.
You pushed him back onto the bed. He pulled you with him, one hand at your waist, and you landed against his chest and he rolled you gently and hovered over you and looked at your face again with that same thoroughness, like he was memorizing you. Then he moved down your body and the careful part began.
He took his shirt off first — unhurried, watching your face while he did it — and then he came over you and looked down and something in his expression was focused and warm and entirely certain. “I’m going to take my time,” he said. Like a statement of intent. Like he was informing you.
“Okay,” you managed.
“You’re going to let me.” Not a question.
“Yes,” you said.
He kissed your cheek again — that specific tenderness, completely at odds with the authority in his voice — and then his mouth moved to your throat and the careful, methodical dismantling began. He learned you like a map he intended to memorize. His mouth at your collarbone, the inside of your wrist — pausing there when your breath hitched, pressing his lips back to the same spot twice — your stomach, the soft curve of your hip. His hands moved with his mouth, cataloguing, noting, and every time you made a sound his eyes came to your face briefly. Checking. Watching. “Good?” he murmured against your ribs.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” he said quietly, and continued. His fingers found the edge of your underwear and he looked up at you from where he was and raised an eyebrow. Asking without asking. You lifted your hips. He drew them down slowly, dropped them, and settled between your thighs and looked at your pussy with an expression of complete, focused attention that made you want to press your thighs together out of sheer overwhelm.
He didn’t let you. His hands pressed your thighs apart, firm and certain. Held them there. “Don’t,” he said simply. Then his mouth found your clit and your back left the mattress.
He ate you out like he had nowhere else to be and no interest in being anywhere else — long slow strokes of his tongue through your folds, his lips sealing over your clit and applying exactly the right pressure, his eyes coming up to your face every few moments to read your expression and adjust accordingly. He was thorough in the way that only someone genuinely paying attention could be, cataloguing every hitch of your breath, every clench of your thighs against his hands.
The sound that left you was embarrassingly loud. His eyes came up. “Shh,” he said against your folds — not unkind, just certain. Then he pressed two fingers against your lips. Firm. “Here.”
You opened your mouth and took them in. “Good.” His voice low and approving. He pressed them deeper against your tongue and returned his mouth to your cunt with noticeably more intent — like your compliance had unlocked something — his tongue working faster, two fingers from his other hand pushing slowly into your hole and curling upward. You moaned around his fingers and clenched around the ones inside you and he made a low sound against your pussy that you felt everywhere.
He worked you with complete focus — his tongue on your clit, his fingers curling inside your hole, your wetness absolutely everywhere and him making quiet reverent sounds about it that were muffled against your folds. Your hand went to his hair and gripped and he let you, kept going, his fingers in your mouth pressing down on your tongue every time you got too loud.
“Look at me,” he said against you. You looked down at him. Dark eyes looking up at you from between your thighs. That eye contact while his mouth was on your cunt was almost more than you could process. “Stay with me,” he said. “Right here.”
When you came it crashed through you in deep rolling waves, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers, your moan muffled completely by his hand, your thighs pressing around his face and his hands not letting them close. He worked you through every single pulse — not stopping, not slowing — until you were pulling at his hair and trembling. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your inner thigh. Then another.
Then he was kissing up your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone, the corner of your mouth. “There she is,” he murmured against your cheek. “How are you doing?”
“I’m—” You laughed weakly. “I’m good. Really good.” He kissed your cheek.
“Yeah you are.” He reached for the bedside drawer himself, sorted himself out, and came back to you and looked at your face and brushed your hair back from your forehead with both hands like you were something worth being careful with.
Then he took both your wrists and pressed them above your head, his hand wrapping around them, pinning them to the pillow. “Keep them here,” he said quietly.
“And if I don’t?” you said. The look he gave you was patient and very slightly dangerous.
“Keep them here,” he said again. He pushed inside you slowly — that long, aching stretch — and the sound you both made was simultaneous and involuntary, his a low broken groan, yours a gasp that turned into his name.
He held there for a moment, fully seated, his forehead dropping to yours, his hand still pinning your wrists above your head. “Okay,” he breathed. Like a reset. Like he needed a second.
“Jungwon—”
“I know.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I know. You feel—” He stopped. Pressed his lips to your cheek. “Perfect. You feel perfect.”
He started to move. Long and deep and measured, his hips rolling in that deliberate rhythm, his cock filling you completely with every stroke and withdrawing slowly — the kind of pace that was specifically designed to make you lose your mind.
Your hands stayed above your head because he’d told them to and because his hand around your wrists was warm and present and you weren’t going anywhere. “Good girl,” he murmured. Watching your face. “Look at you.”
“Jungwon — harder—”
“Not yet.” Steady. Infuriatingly steady. “When I say.”
He kept the pace exactly where he wanted it — deep and thorough, hitting somewhere inside you that made your toes curl — and his free hand found your clit and worked it in slow circles and you arched up into him. “There,” he said. Dark and satisfied. “Feel that?”
“Yes—”
“Yeah.” The circles on your clit tightened. His hips snapped forward once, harder, and you gasped. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He built you up carefully and completely, his cock and his fingers working in tandem, his eyes on your face the entire time — that absolute quality of attention that dismantled you, that had always dismantled you, fifteen years of it turned toward this single purpose.
“Close,” you managed. “Jungwon, I’m—”
“I know.” He didn’t slow down. “Give it to me.” The second one rolled through you deep and long and he watched your face through every second of it — your mouth falling open, your back arching, your hands straining against his grip above your head — and he kept going through all of it, his fingers not stopping until you were clenching and crying his name and he said “there she is, good girl, there she is” against your cheek like a quiet litany.
Then he released your wrists and pulled you up.
“Your turn,” he said. He lay back and you understood immediately. You swung your leg over him and his hands went to your waist — not guiding, not yet, just there — and you sank down onto him and the sound that left him was the most gratifying thing you’d ever heard. Low and wrecked and completely involuntary.
You rolled your hips. “Fuck,” he breathed. His hands tightened. “Do that again.” You did. Set your own pace, slow and grinding, finding the angle that made your vision blur and staying there.
His head pressed back into the pillow, his jaw tight, his eyes on your face with that dark focused expression cracking at the edges into something rawer. “Look at you,” he said, rough and quiet. “You’re perfect. Do you know that?” His jaw went tight as you clenched around him. “God.”
“Don’t stop talking,” you said breathlessly. “Please—”
“You feel incredible.” His hands moved you faster without asking permission. “Your pussy is—you have no idea. No idea what you—”
He sat up suddenly, arms wrapping around you, and kissed you deep and you rolled your hips and he held you through it and you came for the third time with your face in his neck and your nails raking down his back and he groaned at the sting of it — not pulling away, pressing closer, like he wanted that, like he’d been waiting for your nails.
He rolled you back down. Both of you past careful now — his cock driving into you deep and purposeful, your legs over his shoulders, his hand pinning your wrists above your head again. His other hand pressed flat to your lower stomach and he felt himself moving inside you and his expression went somewhere completely undone.
“Eyes on me,” he said. You looked at him. He looked at you. Dark and certain and something underneath it — something fifteen years old — looking out. “You’re mine,” he said quietly. Not possessive. Just true. Like he was finally saying something he’d always known.
“Yes,” you said. “Yes, Jungwon—”
“Good girl.” Driving deeper. “My good girl.” Your nails went to his back again — raking down — and he hissed through his teeth and his rhythm stuttered and then he was coming, buried as deep as possible, your name in his mouth, his whole body shuddering through it in slow waves while you held him and felt every pulse of it.
Afterward you lay in the narrow single bed of your childhood bedroom with his arm around you and your head on his chest and his heartbeat slowing gradually back to something normal under your ear. The house was very quiet.
Outside the window the winter garden. The sundial. The stone wall at the edge of the fields where you’d stood together three days ago and looked at the grey-green view and said nothing about the thing that had been living in the space between you.
“The tree,” you said. Against his chest. Almost asleep.
“What?”
“Her letter. At the end. Take care of the tree.” He was quiet for a moment.
“The tangerine tree?” he said.
“I don’t know how to look after a tangerine tree.”
“I do,” he said. “She taught me.” Of course she had. You made a sound into his chest that was grief and fondness and exhaustion and something newly made and warm all at once. His arm tightened around you. “Sleep,” he said. Quietly. Into your hair.
“There’s still so much to sort out,” you said. “The companies. Your father. Mine. The records. Haeun—”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “All of it tomorrow.”
You were quiet. “She would have liked this,” he said. “She would have smiled like she’d won something.”
“She did win something,” you said. He made the sound — the real laugh, quiet and warm, in the dark.
“She won everything,” he said. The house breathed around you. The walls remembered. The tree stood in the winter garden under the wrong-time sundial and the six extra minutes ticked by in the east corridor and outside the window the fields were dark and still and the net held, the net held, it had always been holding.
—
Morning came differently. Not the grey reluctant morning of the days before — this one had actual light in it, thin and winter-pale but present, coming through the curtains at the angle your grandmother approved of and landing across the bed in a way that felt almost deliberate. Like the house had decided something had shifted and was adjusting its lighting accordingly.
You were awake before him. This was not surprising. You had always been the one who woke first — in Barcelona, in studio all-nighters, in every version of your life you’d constructed away from this place. Your brain came online quickly and completely and then immediately started cataloguing everything that needed to be dealt with, which was both a useful quality and an exhausting one.
You lay still and let it catalogue. Your mother down the hall. Your father in the east guest room. The notebook in your desk drawer and the metal box under the floor of the third room and fifteen years of documentation that was going to require very careful decisions made by people who were currently in various states of devastation. Haeun, who had driven home last night after dismantling the family dinner table and was presumably now sitting in her very expensive apartment feeling something she didn’t have a script for. Yang Junho, who had been told by his son that the careful architecture of his business legacy was going to be pulled apart and rebuilt into something honest. The tangerine tree in the garden.
You turned your head. Jungwon was asleep. This was — notable. He slept with the specific quality of someone whose body had been running on insufficient rest for days and had finally been given permission to stop. On his back, one arm still loosely around you, his face completely unguarded in a way it almost never was when he was awake. The professional composure was entirely absent. He looked like the boy in the photographs on the passage room table.
You looked at him for longer than was strictly necessary. Then you carefully moved his arm, and got up, and got dressed, and went to find your mother.
She was in the garden. Not the formal garden — the kitchen garden at the back, the working one, where your grandmother had grown things with the same methodical attention she gave everything. It was winter-bare now, the beds turned over, the herbs cut back, but your mother was standing at the edge of it with a cup of tea in both hands and her coat over her pyjamas and her hair not yet done and looking at the dormant beds like they owed her a conversation. You came and stood beside her. She looked at you. Her eyes moved over your face the way they had yesterday in the corridor — reading, calibrating. This morning they stilled on something and she looked at you for a beat longer than usual and you thought: she knows. Of course she knows. She is a Han woman and she has been reading rooms since before you were born.
She said nothing about it. “The mint comes back every year,” she said instead. Nodding at one of the beds. “No matter what. Your grandmother never planted it twice.”
“Persistent,” you said.
“Invasive, she called it,” your mother said. “But she never pulled it out.”
You stood beside her. The kitchen garden in the early morning, both of you in coats, tea and no tea. “How are you?” you said.
“I’ve been better,” she said. Dry. Almost wry. A Han woman’s version of honesty.
“Mum—”
“I’m not broken,” she said. “I want you to know that before you start.” She looked at the mint bed. “I’ve known the shape of this for a long time. Not the detail. Not the name, not the company, not the—” she stopped briefly— “not all of it. But the shape.” She turned her mug in her hands. “Your grandmother knew I knew the shape. We never discussed it because discussing it would have made it real in a way I wasn’t ready for.”
“I know,” you said.
“She left you the records,” your mother said. “Because she knew you’d know what to do with them.”
“I’m still figuring that out,” you said honestly. Your mother nodded slowly.
“Whatever you decide — about the companies, about the documentation — I want you to know that I don’t expect you to protect him on my account.” She looked at you directly. “I’ve done enough of that for both of us. You don’t inherit that.”
You looked at her. “She wrote about you,” you said carefully. “In the letter. She said you’d need us to stay. Not to fix it. Just to stay.”
Your mother’s face did something very small and very real. “That sounds like her,” she said.
“She loved you,” you said. “The jewellery she left you — she chose it specifically. I know she did.”
“She chose everything specifically,” your mother said. And then, quietly: “She was infuriating.” Her mouth curved, just slightly, just for a second, the specific curve of someone who misses a person and is furious at them and loves them all at once. “She was the most infuriating woman I have ever known and I have been her daughter for sixty years and I would give almost anything for one more conversation with her.”
Your throat. You put your arm around your mother’s shoulders. She leaned into it. Just slightly. Just enough. “The mint will come back,” you said. “It always does,” she said.
—
Your father found you at nine. You were in the library — the room that minded its own business — with the notebook open on the table and your laptop beside it and three years of your grandmother’s documentation laid out in the order you’d decided to present it. You’d made decisions in the kitchen garden with your mother’s shoulder under your arm and the winter light coming up over the dormant beds, and the decisions were clear and final and felt like the most your grandmother’s-granddaughter thing you had ever done. Your father came in and looked at the table and went still. “Sit down,” you said.
He sat. He looked at the notebook. He looked at the laptop. He looked at your face. “I’ve been through all of it,” you said. “The notebook, the financial records from the box, the subsidiary filings that Haeun’s lawyer found. I have a complete picture.” You held his gaze. “I want to tell you what I’m going to do with it before I do it, because she would have done that. She would have told you directly.” He was very still.
“Jungwon and I are going to work with our respective company counsel to restructure both companies’ positions and make the necessary disclosures. The arrangement your father and his built — the liability your grandmother documented — will be unwound properly. Not buried, not managed. Dealt with.” You turned a page in the notebook. “There will be consequences. Probably financial, possibly regulatory. We’re going to take them straight rather than sideways.”
He opened his mouth. “I’m not finished,” you said quietly. He closed it.
“The personal documentation — your relationship with Park Jooyeon — is not something I intend to make public or use. That’s not mine to use. That’s between you and Mum and whatever comes next for the two of you.” You looked at him steadily.
“But I want you to know that I have it. That grandmother had it. That she saw everything and chose the moment and the recipient very carefully.” You paused. “She trusted me with it because she knew I’d tell you directly rather than use it as leverage. So I’m telling you directly.”
Your father was quiet for a long time. He looked older than yesterday. Something had come down overnight — a structure he’d maintained for twenty years, load-bearing, invisible until it wasn’t. “She always knew,” he said. Not a question.
“Yes,” you said.
“Your mother—”
“Is dealing with it on her own terms,” you said. “In her own time. That’s between you and her and I’m not going to be in the middle of it.” You closed the notebook. “But I am going to be here. For her. For as long as she needs.”
He looked at the closed notebook. “You’re very like her,” he said again. The same words as the library yesterday, same tone — not compliment, not threat, something that had moved past both into something more complicated and more honest.
“Good,” you said again.
He stood up. He looked at you for a moment with the eyes of a man who was reassessing something fundamental and finding the reassessment uncomfortable and necessary in equal measure. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For — all of it. The parts that touched you.”
“I know,” you said. He left. You sat in the library for a minute after he’d gone, in the room that minded its own business, and you breathed and looked at the ceiling and thought about your grandmother writing case notes in her precise blue hand for seven years and choosing you and trusting you and leaving you every door she could think to unlock.
I trust them. I always have.
“I know,” you said to the empty room. “I know you did.”
—
Jungwon was in the kitchen when you came down at ten. He’d made breakfast — actual breakfast, not just tea, the kind of breakfast that required navigating someone else’s kitchen and finding things and making decisions about eggs. You stood in the doorway and looked at this and something in your chest did a quiet complicated thing.
He looked up. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” you said.
“I found the eggs,” he said. “I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s very alright,” you said. You came in and sat at the kitchen table — the big scrubbed one, the one you’d sat at a thousand times — and watched him move around the kitchen with the ease of someone who had been in it almost as often as you had, who knew which drawer had the spatulas and which cupboard had the good salt, who knew to use the second burner because the first ran hot.
“I talked to my father’s lawyer this morning,” he said. Back to you, watching the pan. “Started the process. It’s going to take months. There’ll be restructuring costs, probably some regulatory disclosure, definitely some uncomfortable conversations with the board.” He turned around. “But it’s started.”
“I talked to my dad,” you said. “The personal side — I left that between him and my mother. But the business — he knows what’s coming.” Jungwon nodded.
He brought two plates to the table and sat across from you and for a moment you both just looked at the food. “She would have had opinions about the eggs,” you said.
“She would have said I used too much butter.”
“You absolutely used too much butter.”
“The correct amount of butter,” he said, “for a kitchen that has been through what this kitchen has been through in the last four days.” You looked at him. He looked at you. The kitchen held you both in its amber morning warmth and the back door sighed in the wind and the clock ticked its slightly-too-loud tick.
“Barcelona,” he said. Your fork stopped. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “About what you said. The building at five in the afternoon. The light.” He looked at his plate. “I want to see it.” You looked at him. “I want to see where you’ve been. What you’ve built. The studio, the yellow tiles, all of it.” He looked up. “I’m not asking you to come home. I’m not — I know you have a life there and I’m not going to be the person who asks you to fold that up.”
“Jungwon—”
“I’m saying I want to come to you. If that’s—” he stopped. “If you want that.”
You thought about your Barcelona apartment. The yellow tiles you’d hated and grown to love. The building in the Eixample at five in the afternoon. The Sunday light coming flat and amber through the kitchen window and you standing there with a dead leaf and almost calling him. “When?” you said.
Something shifted in his face. The last of the composure, the very last of it, releasing. “As soon as I can arrange it,” he said.
“The companies—”
“Will take months to sort out. I can do that from anywhere with a phone and a laptop.” He looked at you steadily. “I’ve been doing everything from this house and this office and this city for three years and I think—” he paused— “I think I’ve been using that as a reason to not go anywhere I actually wanted to go.”
You held his gaze. “There’s a market on Sundays,” you said. “Near the apartment. They have good tomatoes even in winter, I don’t know how.”
“I’ll need to know where to get good coffee,” he said.
“I know three places,” you said. “Ranked.”
“Of course you do,” he said.
“The first one is wrong,” you said. “Everyone thinks it’s the best and they’re wrong. The second one is correct.” He smiled. The real one, the full one, no millimetres of distance at all. You smiled back.
Outside the kitchen window the winter garden was pale and still. The tangerine tree stood at the edge of the formal garden where it always had, bare-branched, patient, waiting for the season that would bring it back. The sundial offered its wrong time to the thin morning light. The fields beyond the stone wall were grey-green and quiet.
Inside: two plates of eggs with the correct amount of butter, and the kitchen clock ticking, and the back door with the broken latch, and the house breathing around you in the way old houses breathe when something they’ve been waiting for has finally arrived.
“Take care of the tree,” you said.
“I will,” he said.
“She’ll want a report,” you said. “I’ll take notes,” he said.
“In a small book,” you said.
“Obviously,” he said.
You ate breakfast in the warm kitchen of your grandmother’s house while the morning came properly through the windows, and the walls remembered everything, and somewhere in the passage behind the library fireplace the candles had burned down to nothing and the photographs were still on the table and the letter was in your desk drawer with both your names on it in blue ink, and Han Sooja had been right about all of it, every last word, and the tree would come back in spring and so would you.
SPRING
The tangerine tree bloomed in April. Jungwon sent you the photograph at seven in the morning Barcelona time, which meant he’d been in the garden at eight Korean time, which meant he’d gone specifically to check and then specifically to tell you. No caption. Just the photograph — pale blossoms on the bare-becoming-green branches, the stone wall behind it, the edge of the formal garden catching the early spring light.
You were in bed with your phone and the yellow morning light coming through the kitchen tiles and you looked at the photograph for a long time.
Then you typed: she knew it would.
He replied immediately: she knew everything.
Then: flight lands Friday. Is the second coffee place still correct?
Still correct, you typed. I checked yesterday.
Of course.
You put the phone down and looked at the ceiling of your Barcelona apartment and listened to the street coming alive below and thought about the building in the Eixample at five in the afternoon and the light that made it look like it was remembering something, and you thought about what it meant to show someone the life you’d built from scratch in a city that had been yours alone, and you thought about your grandmother in her garden in October with the window open writing three pages of blue ink to two people she trusted to be ready.
You were ready.
You went to the kitchen and put the coffee on and stood at the window with the yellow tiles warm in the morning light and outside the bakery two streets over was already sending its bread smell into the world and somewhere behind you on the shelf the Calvino stood between its neighbours and in the back of it, tucked where it had always been, the recipe card with the hand-drawn map of a house full of secret rooms.
Not everything buried is lost. Some things are just waiting for the ground to be ready.
The coffee finished. You poured two cups out of habit and then looked at the second one and smiled and didn’t move it.
