Discover Top Posts Tagged with #lee jeno

The Art of Unlearning You

Genre: Crush to Enemies to Lovers(?), College situation, fuckbuddies, college crush, Angsty

CONTENTS: (18+ content scroll away if you’re a minor): Unprotected sex,Non-Consensual/Dubious Consent Elements

PAIRING: college!crush!jeno!,y/n!fem!reader!

SUMMARY: Two years after a public humiliation turned her soft heart into stone, Y/N has rebuilt herself into a guarded, untouchable woman who refuses to be hurt again. But when a stranded night forces her back into the orbit of the boy who broke her, the past she buried comes crashing down in a single, chaotic night. Left standing in the wreckage of unexpected confessions and tangled desires, she is forced to question everything she thought she knew about him—and herself.

Note:

This piece is deeply personal and closely based on my own recent experiences. It’s not quite finished yet, but I wanted to share where it stands. Hope you like it! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged for the next part.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The afternoon sun slashed through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the central library corridor, turning the dust motes into drifting gold. Outside, the university quad was alive with the hum of late-spring activity, but inside the third-floor study lounge, the air smelled faintly of worn paper, damp denim, and over-extracted espresso.

Y/N wasn’t looking at her financial accounting notes. She hadn’t touched her textbook in twenty minutes.

Instead, her eyes were glued to the reflection in her black laptop screen. From this exact spot, she had a clear view of the main stairwell—and more importantly, the guy currently walking down it.

Lee Jeno moved like he had all the time in the world, the kind of easy confidence that came from waking up at dawn for six-mile river runs. His grey gym bag was slouched over one broad shoulder, his dark hair still damp from the showers after track practice. The sleeves of his dark t-shirt were pushed up, showing off strong forearms and the subtle silver flash of his Tag Heuer watch. Right beside him was Na Jaemin, draped in a vintage leather jacket, looking like he was actively judging every single person in the building.

When Jaemin mumbled something, Jeno’s sharp face instantly softened. His eyes crinkled into those iconic, half-moon crescent folds—his eye-smile—that completely melted away his intimidating frame.

It was ridiculous. One minute he was the untouchable, quiet legend sitting at the top of the Business Administration department; the next, he looked like a golden retriever who would happily carry your heavy groceries up four flights of stairs.

Y/N felt that familiar, heavy flutter right behind her ribs. It wasn't just that he was outrageously good-looking. It was the way he carried himself. She remembered last month during a group project pitch in the main auditorium; while everyone else panicked, Jeno had calmly reorganized the slides, quietly slid a bottle of water to a girl who was hyperventilating in the corner, and delivered a flawless summary without glancing at his notes once. He was solid. He was the kind of person who didn't need to make noise to be noticed.

And Y/N, who had fought like hell to rebuild her life into something bright and strong after a messy past, was completely weak for that kind of steady, quiet strength.

"If you stare any harder, Y/N, his shirt is going to catch fire," a voice drawled right into her ear.

Y/N jumped, almost sending her iced coffee flying across the table. She whacked her laptop shut and turned to glare at Haechan, who was leaning over her chair with an absurdly smug grin, chewing on a sour gummy.

"I wasn't staring," Y/N said, keeping her voice down. "I was checking my reflection."

"Right. Your reflection that happens to have broad shoulders and an eye-smile," Haechan said, dropping into the empty chair across from her. He pointed a gummy worm at her face. "Your cheeks are bright red. You look like a hot dog."

"Haechan, shut up."

"Hey, Chenle, Renjun," Haechan called out, completely ignoring her as he waved over at the other side of their table. "Y/N is doing her daily Jeno worship again. She’s staring so hard her eyes are about to pop out."

Chenle, who was supposed to be studying business statistics, immediately put his pen down and let out a loud, high-pitched dolphin laugh that echoed off the high ceiling. "Again? Y/N, you've been sitting on the same page of accounting for two hours! Just go ask him for his notes or stop breathing so loud, it’s distracting."

"I am not breathing loud!" Y/N hissed, swatting Chenle’s arm across the table. "And I don't need his notes, I'm doing fine on my own!"

"Yeah, sure," Renjun muttered without looking up from his laptop. "That's why you wrote Lee Jeno in the margin of your supply chain assignment yesterday instead of net profit”

"That was a typo!" Y/N kicked Renjun under the table.

"A typo?" Haechan cackled, leaning back in his chair. "Yesterday he walked past our row, dropped his highlighter, and you froze like a statue. He picked it up, handed it to you, and said 'Here,' and you literally just squeaked. You sounded like a squeezed chew toy."

"His hands are huge and he smelled like cedarwood, okay?!" Y/N shot back in a furious whisper, her face burning. "It caught me off guard!"

Chenle collapsed onto the table, wheezing so hard he couldn't form words, while Renjun just shook his head. "You're a business major, Y/N. Negotiate a conversation with him instead of suffering in silence."

"I am taking my time," Y/N insisted, crossing her arms tightly. "I have a strategy."

"Your strategy is waiting for him to telepathically read your mind," Haechan said, popping another candy into his mouth. "Which isn't working, because he's walking over here right now."

Y/N’s stomach instantly dropped. "He is not. Stop lying."

"I'm not lying this time, look," Haechan grinned.

Y/N turned her head, and her throat went bone dry.

Jeno was walking down the aisle toward the exit, holding a green tea frappe. Jaemin had already pushed through the glass doors ahead, but Jeno was taking long, slow strides, eyes glancing casually around the room.

As he reached their table, he paused for a brief second. His dark eyes took in the chaos—Chenle practically suffocating from laughter, Haechan grinning like a idiot, and Y/N sitting stiff as a board with a bright red face.

His eyes swept across the group, landing on Y/N for just a fraction of a second.

Up close, he was almost unfair to look at—sharp jawline, soft skin, and a quiet, focused presence.

Jeno’s lips curved up into that soft, effortless smile, his eyes squeezing into small, polite crescents as he gave the whole table a simple, respectful nod.

"Hey guys," Jeno said softly, his voice low and polite.

Before anyone could say another word, he kept walking, pushing through the glass doors to join Jaemin in the hallway. He didn't linger, didn't make a big deal out of it, just offered that simple, warm greeting before vanishing out of sight.

The moment the glass doors shut behind him, Y/N let her head drop onto her open textbook with a heavy, muffled groan.

"I hate all three of you," she muttered into the paper. "So much."

"He literally just said two words to the entire table and you look like you're about to pass out," Chenle wheezed, clapping his hands together.

"He smiled!" Haechan insisted, tapping his finger on the table. "Did you see that? He definitely acknowledged us. My teasing is actually doing God's work here."

Y/N slowly lifted her head off the textbook, running a hand over her face to rub away the heat lingering on her cheeks. She took a long, steadying sip of her melted iced coffee, letting the bitter taste snap her back into reality. Outside the glass doors, Jeno’s tall figure was already disappearing around the corner of the corridor, his gym bag slouched casually over his shoulder until he was completely gone from view.

"God's work or not, if any of you bring this up during the accounting review tonight, I'm buying coffee for everyone except you three," Y/N warned, though the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips betrayed her stern tone.

She reopened her laptop, letting the bright display of her spreadsheet wash over her face as she forced herself to refocus. The flutter in her chest took its time settling down, but as she clicked back onto her notes, one thing was clear: no matter how much her friends tormented her, this ridiculous crush wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

🕸️❤️👅🦂🚿🤕👩‍❤️‍👨🕷️🕸️🏊‍♀️🌻🦁🦸🏽‍♂️🥤⛄️🕷️🕸️

The air outside the student union was thick with the smell of cheap coffee, cut grass, and exhaust from the main road. It was barely eight in the morning, but Y/N was already buzzing with an almost ridiculous amount of energy.

She had a spring in her step as she walked across the quad, a stupidly wide grin tucked into the corner of her lips that she couldn't pull back if she tried.

The source of her good mood was simple, predictable, and currently standing about fifty feet away by the bike racks.

Lee Jeno was adjusting the strap of his gym bag, his dark hair still damp from an early morning workout. He wore a heavy charcoal sweater that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, the silver band of his watch catching the low morning light as he locked his fixed-gear bike. He didn't even notice her. He was just existing, moving with that quiet, grounded calm he always had. But for Y/N, who spent most of her life fighting through internal noise and past baggage, just seeing him act as an anchor in the middle of a chaotic campus was enough to turn a terrible week completely around. She was helplessly, thoroughly down bad, and she didn't even care.

"Look at her," Haechan said, squinting through the sunlight as Y/N finally reached the concrete steps where the group always met up. "She looks like she just won the lottery."

"She’s glowing," Chenle added, sitting on his backpack and taking a sip of canned coffee. "It’s sickening. What happened? Did Professor Kang cancel the accounting quiz?"

"No," Y/N said, dropping her tote bag onto the concrete beside them with a bright, unbothered laugh. "I just had a really good breakfast, the weather is nice, and life is great."

"Translation: Jeno walked past her building ten minutes ago," Renjun muttered without looking up from his phone screen.

"Okay, first of all, mind your business," Y/N said, her face instantly heating up despite her best efforts to stay cool. "Second of all, he was locking his bike. And his hair was wet. That is a completely normal thing to appreciate."

"You're tragic, Y/N. Truly," Haechan said, a dangerous, familiar glint flashing in his eyes. He exchanged a quick, silent glance with Chenle—the kind of look that always meant someone was about to suffer.

Because while Y/N treated Jeno like an untouchable icon from afar, her friends actually knew him. Chenle stayed up until two in the morning playing Discord games with him, and Haechan had been on the same high school athletic circuit. To them, Jeno wasn't a mysterious crush; he was just the quiet guy who brought extra protein bars to study sessions and never remembered to reply to group chats.

"You know," Chenle said casually, tossing his empty coffee can into his bag, "Jeno was actually complaining yesterday that he couldn't find a physical copy of the advanced corporate finance binder. The bookstore sold out."

Y/N’s head snapped over so fast her neck popped. "Wait, really? I have the physical binder. I bought it weeks ago."

"Oh, perfect," Haechan chimed in smoothly, throwing a arm over her shoulder. "You should totaly give him yours. In fact, he's walking right over here."

Y/N froze, her stomach doing a violent freefall. "Wait, no—Haechan, don't—"

"Hey, Jeno!" Haechan yelled out, waving his arm wildly toward the main path.

Y/N’s soul practically left her body. "Haechan, shut up!" she hissed, trying to shove his arm off, but Chenle immediately stepped in front of her to block her escape route.

Jeno paused down the walkway, hearing his name. He looked over, saw the group, and shifted his bag on his shoulder before taking long, steady strides over to the steps.

"I'm going to throw both of you into the river," Y/N whispered through gritted teeth, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she was sure everyone on the quad could hear it.

"Hey," Jeno said softly as he reached the bottom step. His low baritone was completely calm, his expression neutral and relaxed as he gave Haechan a quick nod and acknowledged Chenle and Renjun.

Then his dark eyes flicked over to Y/N.

He gave her a simple, polite nod—nothing overly sweet, just the standard, respectful greeting he gave anyone he recognized around campus. "Morning."

"M-Morning," Y/N stammered out, her voice pitching way higher than normal. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her face instantly burning a deep, violent shade of crimson.

"Jeno, man," Haechan said, completely ignoring Y/N's internal collapse. "Y/N here heard you were looking for the finance binder, so she was actually planning to hand-deliver her own copy to your dorm room tonight!"

A dead, heavy silence fell over the steps.

Renjun immediately looked away, pressing his lips together to hide a snort, while Chenle squeezed his eyes shut in pure agony.

Y/N’s brain completely short-circuited. Hand-deliver it to his dorm?!

Jeno blinked, a slight beat of confusion passing over his face as he looked at Haechan, then back at Y/N’s completely horrified expression.

"Oh," Jeno said, his voice remaining level, polite, and completely measured. "I actually picked one up from a senior this morning. But thanks anyway."

He didn't laugh, he didn't tease, and he didn't linger on how insane she looked. He was just civil and pleasant, treating it like a normal piece of information before checking his watc

"I have to get to the lab before eight," Jenoo said, looking back at the guys. "See you later."

He gave the group—and Y/N—one last polite nod before turning around and continuing down the brick path toward the business hall, his ytall frame moving effortlessly through the growing crowd of students.

The absolute second he was out of earshot, YN grabbed her heavy corporate finance textbook and swung it full force into Haechan’s arm..

"I am going to end your life!" she squeaked out, her voice muffled as she immediately buried her flaming face into her hands. "I am going to end both of your lives!"

"Did you see his face?!" Chenle wheezed, falling backward onto the concrete steps in tears. "He was so confused!"

"He said 'thanks anyway'!" Haechan cackled, ducking out of the way as Y/N aimed another hit at him. "He knows you exist, Y/N! My work here is done!"

Y/N groaned loudly into her palms, her cheeks practically vibrating with heat. She was mortified to her core, her pride completely shredded in front of the one person she wanted to look cool around—but as she peeked through her fingers and watched Jeno’s dark hair disappear into the building across the lawn, a tiny, helpless smile still managed to break through.

Even when her friends turned her into a walking embarrassment, just being in his orbit made the day feel a little brighter.

💚✅🎄🔫🌲🌴🐍🐸🍃🥑🌱🐢🦖🐛🌳🧤🥝🦎

The air in the business department basement was always cool and smelled faintly of stale coffee and industrial carpet cleaner. It was a space Y/N knew almost too well; back when she worked as a student assistant to survive her freshman year, she’d spent hundreds of hours in these narrow hallways, stapling syllabi, filing department records, and running errands for faculty.

Ms. Kang, the department head, was still sitting behind her cluttered desk, spectacles perched low on her nose as she flipped through a stack of mid-term ledgers. When Y/N knocked on the glass, the older woman’s face softened instantly, a warm, familiar smile breaking across her tired features.

"Y/N, perfect timing," Ms. Kang said, motioning for her to come inside and sit on the edge of the leather armchair. "I was just about to send an email, but since you're here—I need a favor."

"Anything, Ms. Kang. What's up?" Y/N asked, leaning against the wooden desk.

"The department's quarterly audit report is due Friday, and I need the data consolidated into the new software template," Ms. Kang explained, tapping a manicured finger against her laptop screen. "I already assigned the primary dataset to Lee Jeno from the morning section. He’s meticulous with spreadsheets, but he needs someone who knows how our internal system functions to clean up the back-end entries. Since you used to handle these logs for me, I thought you’d be the best person to collaborate with him on it."

Y/N’s chest gave a sudden, violent thud against her ribs. "J-Jeno? Lee Jeno?"

Ms. Kang looked up from her glasses, a small, knowing glint dancing in her sharp eyes. She had noticed the subtle, lingering glances and the sudden flush on Y/N’s face whenever Jeno picked up department forms last semester.

"Yes, Jeno," Ms. Kang said smoothly, her tone laced with lowkey, deliberate amusement. "He’s working on the raw numbers right now. I suggested he reach out, but why don't you send him a direct message on Slack first? Just tell him you’re taking over the system side so you two can sync your files."

Y/N sat there, her mouth slightly open, processing the fact that her former boss had basically just given her an official, academically required reason to message the guy she’d been yearning after from across the room for months.

"Okay," Y/N managed to choke out, keeping her voice as steady as humanly possible. "I'll... I'll send him a message."

"Good," Ms. Kang said, turning back to her screen with a faint, satisfied smile. "He’s very efficient. It shouldn't take you two long."

Ten minutes later, Y/N was sitting at a quiet corner table in the campus library, staring at the Slack interface on her laptop like it was a live explosive device. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.

Y/N: Hi Jeno! Ms. Kang asked me to help out with the back-end cleanup for the audit report. Let me know whenever you're ready to sync the dataset!

She hit send, squeezed her eyes shut, and buried her face in her hands, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. The sheer joy of seeing his name pop up under her active chats was almost suffocating—a ridiculous, dizzying rush that made her feel like she was floating completely out of her seat.

A minute passed. Then, the little green indicator light flickered next to his name.

Lee Jeno: Hi Y/N. Thanks for reaching out. I just uploaded the raw numbers to the shared drive folder under 'Audit_Draft_v1'. Let me know if the formatting works for your system logs.

No emojis, no fluff. Just clear, prompt, and thoroughly polite.

Y/N stared at the text, a foolish, uncontrollable grin spreading across her face. It wasn't sweet, and it certainly wasn't romantic—it was purely professional—but the mere fact that Lee Jeno was actively typing into a chat box dedicated exclusively to the two of them felt like a monumental shift in her universe.

They spent the next hour trading quick, functional updates over Slack.

Y/N: Got the file! The formatting looks clean. I’ll run the system reconciliation now.

Lee Jeno: Sounds good. I’m double-checking the Q3 expenditure column on my end just in case.

Y/N: All set on my end! Everything matches up perfectly.

Lee Jeno: Great. Appreciate the quick help, Y/N. I’ll submit the final draft to Ms. Kang now.

It was brief, completely straightforward, and entirely devoid of any personal interaction, but to Y/N, those few lines of text felt like winning an award. She closed her laptop, resting her forehead against the cool metal casing, taking a long, deep breath to steady the butterflies raging in her stomach.

An hoor later, Y/N walked back down to the department office to drop off the signed cover sheet for Ms. Kang. The hallway was quiet, the afternoon light filtering softly through the narrow transom windows above the doors.

Ms. Kang was standing near the filing cabinets, holding a folder, while Jeno stood on the other side of her desk, his gym bag slouched over his shoulder as he waited for her to sign off on the audit log.

"Ah, Y/N, perfect," Ms. Kang said as Y/N stepped inside the doorway. "Jeno just brought down the final folder. You two made quick work of that."

"Yeah, Jeno’s spreadsheet was really easy to work with," Y/N said, offering a polite, subdued smile as she handed over her sheet.

Jeno turned his head, giving her a simple, polite nod. "Your system cleanup made the final cross-check really smooth. Thanks."

"Of course! Happy to help," Y/N replied, trying her best to keep her tone completely casual and grounded.

Ms. Kang looked between the two of them—Y/N standing rigid near the door, cheeks faintly pink, and Jeno standing there with his usual calm, polite composure.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out," Ms. Kang remarked offhandedly, a dry, playful tone slipping into her voice before she even realized what she was saying. "I knew putting you two together would be a good idea, considering how much Y/N talks about you."

The air in the small office instantly froze.

Y/N’s soul left her body. Her throat locked up entirely, every drop of blood in her system rushing straight to her face until her skin felt like it was on fire.

Ms. Kang paused mid-signature, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what had just slipped out of her mouth. She cleared her throat softly, trying to smooth it over, but the damage was already done.

Jeno blinked, his dark, attentive eyes shifting slowly from Ms. Kang over to Y/N. There was no mockery in his expression, no smugness, and no awkward tension on his part—just a quiet, slightly surprised beat of stillness as he processed the statement.

"I—I mean—with the accounting work!" Y/N squeaked out, her voice pitching up dangerously high. "With—with the assignments! Because you're... good at accounting!"

She grabbed her folder, practically bowing to the floor. "I have to go to class now! Thank you Ms. Kang! Bye Jeno!"

She didn't wait for a response. She spun around on her heel and bolted out of the office, her sneakers squeaking loudly against the linoleum tile as she practically sprinted down the corridor, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs she thought she might pass out right there on the basement stairs.

By nine o'clock that evening, Y/N was curled up on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of her room. The mortification hadn't faded; if anything, it had fermented into a deep, agonizing embarrassment that made her want to pack her bags and transfer to a university in another country.

She couldn't leave it like that. She couldn't let him think she was some weird, obsessive person who went around talking about him to faculty members.

With shaking hands, she opened Instagram. She had been following his private profile for months—a simple account with a handful of landscape shots and bike pictures—though they had never interacted on the app.

She pulled up his direct messages, her thumb hovering over the screen for a long, agonizing minute before she typed out a message, trying to make it sound as genuine and human as possible.

y/n: Hey Jeno, I am so, so sorry about what Ms. Kang said earlier today in the office. It was completely out of context and super awkward, and I really didn't want you to feel uncomfortable at all. I just wanted to clear the air and apologize for the weird situation!

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it, throwing her phone onto the mattress like it had burned her hand.

Three minutes passed. Then five.

A quiet buzz vibrated against her blanket. Y/N lunged for her phone, her heart dropping into her stomach as she unlocked the screen.

Lee_j1: Hey Y/N. Don’t worry about it at all, seriously. Ms. Kang is always making jokes like that with students, so it’s really fine. You don’t need to apologize at all. Thanks again for your help with the audit today!

Y/N stared at the reply, letting out a long, shuddering breath she felt like she’d been holding since three in the afternoon.

There was no distance, no coldness, and no awkwardness in his reply—just that same, steady, quiet kindness that had drawn her to him in the first place. He hadn't pushed her away, nor had he made a big deal out of it. He had simply handled her mortification with grace, leaving her tucked into her blankets with a warm, quiet flutter settling right back into her chest.

❤️♥️💋💔🌹🥵🤬🎈‼️❌🍷💥❗️💃🏽👹🅱️🥀👺🍓

The screech of rubber soles against polished hardwood echoed loudly off the gymnasium rafters, punctuated by the sharp whistle of the referee and the heavy, rhythmic bouncing of a basketball.

Y/N wasn't paying a single second of attention to the score on the digital board.

Her eyes were completely glued to number 23, currently cutting across the key, his damp dark hair pushed back with a black headband, broad shoulders gleaming under the harsh stadium lights as he called for the pass. When Jeno caught the ball, pivoted on one foot, and sank a smooth jump shot from the baseline, Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth to keep from screaming like a frantic maniac.

"If you grip that bleacher rail any harder, you're going to snap the metal," Renjun said, not even looking up from his phone, where he was calmly scrolling through a digital art portfolio.

"Did you see that footwork?" Y/N whispered, her cheeks flushed with pure, unadulterated joy. "Renjun, did you see the angle of his release? That was poetry."

"It was a basic two-pointer," Renjun deadpanned. "And you have been grinning like a idiot since Tuesday."

"Because Tuesday changed the structural integrity of my entire life!" Y/N declared proudly, leaning back and crossing her legs. "He followed me back. Lee Jeno. On his private account. The one with only forty-two followers. I am practically in his inner circle now."

Chenle, sitting two steps down with a massive tub of buttery popcorn, let out a loud, wheezing laugh. "Inner circle? Y/N, he follows thirty-five other people, and twenty of them are literal bicycle accounts. You are ranked right between a Japanese fixed-gear shop and a guy who sells customized watch straps."

"I don't care if I'm ranked behind a bicycle chain!" Y/N shot back with a bright, beaming smile. "A follow is a follow! The connection is established!"

"Yeah, a connection where you've suddenly transformed your profile into a full-time catalog of thirst traps," Renjun snorted, finally locking his screen to glare at her with genuine, scolding exasperation. "I opened my app yesterday at midnight and the very first story was you in that black off-the-shoulder top, holding a coffee cup, with some vintage filter and a slow indie song playing in the background. What was that?"

Y/N’s face flared hot, though she tried her best to look innocent. "It was a casual life update! I liked my outfit!"

"You uploaded three stories in five hours, Y/N," Haechan chimed in, sliding down from the row above to snatch a handful of Chenle's popcorn. "And every single one of them was engineered in a lab to make someone look at your jawline."

"And did he look?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with zero regret as she leaned in close.

"Of course he looked," Renjun muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "His little profile picture pops up in your viewer list within twenty minutes every single time you post. He views every single one. But has he liked a single story? Has he swiped up? Has he sent a single emoji?"

"No," Y/N admitted, her smile softening into something a little more grounded, though no less happy. "Not once."

"Because he's Jeno!" Chenle wheezed. "He probably opens Instagram, taps through fifty stories while eating his chicken breast, and doesn't even realize he's feeding your delusion!"

"It's not delusion, it's silent mutual awareness," Y/N corrected, resting her chin in her hands as she turned her eyes back toward the court.

Down on the floor, the coach called a timeout. Jeno walked off the court, pulling a white towel around his neck as he grabbed a water bottle from the bench. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his sharp profile looking unfairly cut under the gymnasium lights.

Y/N just sat there watching him, a quiet, warm flutter settling right behind her ribs.

She didn't care that he never replied to her stories or liked her photos. She didn't care that he remained completely quiet, polite, and neutral in real life. Just knowing that her name popped up on his screen, that he saw a glimpse of her day, and that he held that quiet, steady space in her life was enough to keep her floating on cloud nine for the rest of the semester.

"Look at her, she's zoning out again," Haechan sighed, tossing a piece of popcorn at her sneaker. "Hey! Wake up! Number 23 is drinking water! Truly a historic moment for you!"

Y/N kicked Haechan's shoe, a bright, genuine laugh spilling out of her as she settled back into the bleachers, completely unbothered by her friends' teasing, her eyes never leaving the court.

💛💐⭐️🌟🌻🌝🌙🌼🐝🐥🐣🍋🧀⚠️⚠️🥎🍯🌕🚜

The cafeteria at noon was a wall of noise—cheap plastic trays clattering, sneakers squeaking on polished tile, and people yelling over each other to be heard.

Y/N was staring at her supply chain assignment, trying to force down a sandwich she couldn't taste, when Chenle dropped his fork. It hit his plastic tray with a sharp, sickening clack.

"Wait," Chenle said softly, his thumbs frozen over his phone screen. "Hold on. Look at this."

Haechan leaned in, a fry halfway to his mouth, while Renjun stopped typing. "What is it?"

Chenle didn't read it out loud. He just turned his phone around and pushed it across the table. It was a screenshot from a public campus forum post, a thread titled

“The business dept stalker girl who actually thought she had a chance.”

Below the post was a cropped screenshot of the private Instagram DM Y/N had sent Jeno—her honest, vulnerable confession, laid out for everyone on campus to see.

The comment section underneath was brutal:

anon_231: No way she actually sent this 💀 Jeno literally ignores everyone, who does she think she is?

jenofan.0301: The delusion is crazy. She’s been staring at him in the library for months, so embarrassing.

hotpoteater: Jeno was literally laughing about this at the gym today. Said she was desperate and it was awkward as hell.

The air at the table turned ice cold.

Y/N’s throat locked. Every bit of color drained from her face, leaving her hands completely numb where they rested on her laptop keys. A heavy, suffocating shock settled right over her chest, making it impossible to pull in a full breath.

"Wait," Haechan said, his voice dropping into something quiet and horrified. "Jeno leaked that?"

"Yeah," Chenle whispered, his eyes wide and sick with guilt. "He showed the upperclassmen at the gym. Someone took a screenshot and put it on the forum. He didn't even reply to you, Y/N... he just left you on read and showed everyone."

A hot, stinging pressure built up rapidly behind Y/N’s eyes.

It wasn't just that he had rejected her. It was the absolute, casual cruelty of it. She hadn't begged, and she hadn't asked for anything in return. She had just been honest, trusting the gentle, polite boy she had admired from afar for months. And Jeno had taken that private, fragile piece of her heart, walked into the campus weight room, and handed it over as public entertainment. He had humiliated her, intentionally and without an ounce of remorse.

A sharp, painful sob tore through her throat before she could catch it. Tears flooded her eyes, instantly blurring her vision as she shoved her laptop into her bag, not even bothering to zip it shut.

"Y/N—" Haechan called out, half-rising from his chair, his face pale.

She didn't stay to hear the rest. She pushed herself away from the table and ran.

She bolted through the heavy doors of the student union hall, tears streaming down her face, her breath coming in ragged, suffocating gasps as she sprinted down the concrete steps toward the quad. She didn't care who was staring, didn't care about the whispers, and didn't care that her vision was so waterlogged she could barely see the brick path ahead. She just needed to escape the noise, the shame, and the crushing weight of knowing she had trusted someone who had turned around and destroyed her for a laugh.

The weeks that followed weren't about endless crying—the tears ran out quickly enough. Instead, they were about a quiet, steady transformation.

The humiliation stung, but Y/N wasn't the type to let a boy ruin her life. She processed the embarrassment, pulled her pride back together, and moved on. But moving on didn't mean going back to who she was before.

The soft, naive girl who laughed easily, trusted people on sight, and spent her mornings floating around campus with a foolish crush had simply ceased to exist. In her place was someone far more grounded, composed, and completely impenetrable.

A year passed. The campus forum post faded into old news, her friends learned to respect the firm boundaries she set, and Y/N built a life that was quiet, strong, and entirely her own. She wasn't sad, and she wasn't bitter. She excelled in her business classes, kept her head high, and moved through the hallways with a cool, unshakeable authority.

She just didn't smile anymore.

And whenever Lee Jeno crossed her path in the corridors—his broad shoulders slouched, his dark eyes brief and unreadable—Y/N’s gaze passed right over him as if he were nothing more than empty air, an inanimate object in the room. He had taken her foolish softness, but he would never get close enough to touch her again.

🖤✔️📞⚫️🏴‍☠️🐜〰️▪️◼️🎩♠️⬛️🐦‍⬛🗝️🕋🕶️➰🐈‍⬛

“If you don't take a bite of this pretzel in the next three seconds, I'm going to tell the whole department you secret-test your corporate presentations on a stuffed animal," Haechan said, shoving a warm, salt-crusted pretzel so close to Y/N’s mouth that she had to lean back to avoid getting butter on her nose.

Y/N didn't even blink. She kept her fingers flying across her keyboard, making one final edit to her capstone risk-assessment model.

"First of all, Mr. Bear has a name," Y/N said, her tone deadpan and completely unbothered. "Second of all, he gave much more constructive critique on my financial forecasting than you did when you looked at my draft and just said 'needs more fireworks'."

"Fireworks build engagement!" Haechan defended himself loudly, snatching a piece of the pretzel for himself. "You're too corporate now, Y/N. You used to be fun. Now you look like a woman who sues people for fun on Tuesday afternoons."

"I don't sue people on Tuesdays," Y/N replied, a tiny, sharp smirk catching the corner of her lips. "I reserve my litigation energy for Thursdays."

Before Haechan could launch into his next theatrical complaint, a pair of heavy, leather-clad arms slid smoothly around Y/N’s waist from behind.

She didn't jump. She didn't even pause her typing.

Na Jaemin pulled her back against his chest, leaning down until his nose brushed the sensitive skin just below her earlobe. His breath was warm, smelling faintly of mint and black coffee, as he pressed a lingering, discreet kiss right to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing the soft fabric of her top where it rested on her hip.

Haechan gagged loudly, covering his eyes with a napkin. "Jesus Christ, can you two save the public display of affection for literally anywhere else? I am trying to eat processed potato product in peace."

Jaemin lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes lazy and thoroughly amused as he rested his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, his arms still comfortably wrapped around her middle. "Mind your own business, Haechan. She was looking stressed."

"She’s always stressed, she’s a senior!" Haechan shot back, throwing a fry at Jaemin’s forehead. "And you're not helping her study, you're just being a menace!"

Jaemin casually caught the fry in mid-air, popped it into his mouth, and pressed another quick, soft kiss to the side of Y/N’s jawline before slowly letting his arms drop from her waist. He pulled out the chair right beside her, spinning it around to sit backward, resting his chin on his crossed arms atop the chair back.

They weren't dating. They had never been dating.

In fact, there was zero romance between them, zero late-night hand-holding, and zero expectation of anything more than what it was: a completely quiet, effortless arrangement born out of pure convenience and mutual physical interest. Jaemin was sharp, gorgeous, and utterly unattached; Y/N was no longer the girl who gave her heart away for free. They kept it simple, kept it discreet, and enjoyed each other's company without a single string attached.

Haechan knew it, Chenle knew it, and half the department suspected it, even if no one dared say it out loud.

Because Y/N wasn't the quiet girl sitting in the corner of the library anymore.

Over the last two years, she had grown into someone undeniably breathtaking. Her posture was effortless, her style refined and sharp, and her confidence radiated off her in waves that commanded respect the second she walked into a room. She was prettier, hotter, and far more popular than she had ever been in her underclassmen days—surrounded by people who wanted her attention, her notes, or her time.

She was thriving by every definition of the word.

But as Jaemin casually slid a hand over her knee under the table, his fingers tapping a light rhythm against her denim, Y/N just offered him a cool, composed nod before turning her gaze back to her laptop screen.

The warmth, the soft vulnerability, and the desperate desire to be seen that used to consume her had been completely replaced by something unshakeable and smooth as glass. She was at the top of her game—and she belonged entirely to herself.

🥥🐓🐑🐈👩‍🦳🦴⚪️🚑❔🥡▫️🏳️⬜️🤍◻️◽️❕🐻‍❄️

The low, rhythmic thrum of the bass from the apartment down the hall vibrated through the floorboards, but inside the dim quiet of Jaemin’s room, the only sound was the heavy, uneven drag of breathing.

The sheets were tangled around their ankles, pulled loose from the mattress during the dark, relentless blur of the last twenty minutes. Jaemin’s large hands were anchored firmly into the soft skin of Y/N’s hips, holding her completely pinned against him as he drove into her—hard, deep, and unhurried—filling her so completely that every slow slide sent a dizzying, electric pulse straight up her spine.

Y/N’s head was thrown back against his pillows, her fingers gripping his shoulder blades where his skin was hot and slick with sweat.

Jaemin leaned down, his dark hair falling messy over his forehead, and captured her mouth in a heavy, bruised kiss. His tongue slid against hers, slow and possessive, swallowing the quiet gasp that escaped her lips when he shifted his weight, burying himself balls deep inside her with a sharp, rolling thrust that made her toes curl into the mattress.

"Stay still for a second," Jaemin muttered against her lips, his voice raspy, low, and completely wrecked. He didn't pull out; he just held her there, anchored deep inside her heat, his chest heaving against hers as his thumb traced the flare of her hip bone.

"You're... ruining my pace," Y/N breathed out, her voice tight, trying to arch her back against him, but his grip on her hips tightened just enough to keep her locked in place.

Jaemin let out a low, breathless laugh, his mouth moving down the column of her throat to press a hard, biting kiss right over her pulse point. "I'm negotiating."

"Bad time to negotiate," she gasped, her hands moving up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him lower until their mouths met again in a messy, wet kiss. He rolled his hips forward just a fraction, a deliberate, agonizing pressure that made her hips lift off the bed completely. "What do you want, Jaemin?"

"Come to the senior banquet with me tomorrow night," he murmured into the corner of her mouth, his breath hot against her skin as he began to move again—slow, heavy, agonizingly deep strokes that made her head spin.

Y/N blinked through the haze, her hands tightening on his shoulders. "The basketball party? Absolutely not. I have a risk analysis report due Friday."

"The guys are forcing me to go," Jaemin grunted, his jaw clenching as he picked up the rhythm, driving into her with a steady, relentless intensity that had her clutching at his bare back. "Jeno made the whole varsity roster confirm attendance. It’s mandatory... and I’m not sitting through three hours of athletic department speeches alone."

"Ask one of the junior girls," Y/N choked out, her head rolling back as he hit that exact, unbearable sweet spot inside her. "They’d kill for an invite from you."

"I don't want them," Jaemin said simply, his voice sharp, clear, and utterly unbothered even as his breath hitched. He leaned down, his dark eyes locking onto hers in the dim light, intense and completely unreadable, before pressing his lips firmly against hers again. "I want you. Just dress up, drink their expensive liquor on my tab, and help me escape by midnight."

He drove into her again—full depth, making her lose her train of thought entirely as a sharp, desperate moan slipped past her lips into his mouth.

Y/N held onto him tightly, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, the sheer physical friction driving every lingering thought of her capstone project completely out of her mind. She looked up at him—at the sharp line of his jaw, the effortless composure he kept even while buried deep inside her—and felt that same cool, unshakeable control return to her own chest.

It was just a party. It meant nothing.

"Fine," Y/N gasped out, her fingers digging into his hips as she met his rhythm stroke for stroke. "You're paying for my drinks."

"Done," Jaemin growled against her lips, a dark, satisfied smirk touching his mouth right before he picked up the pace, completely taking over the room once again.

💜😈👿🦄🍆👾🙋🏻‍♀️🙆‍♀️♒️☦️☔️♐️🔯🌂👩‍🎤🟪🟣🪻🪁

The heavy bass from the subwoofer setups thuttered through the floorboards of the banquet hall, but at the far end of the marble bar, Y/N barely felt it.

She was wearing a sleek, form-fitting black silk dress with a low-cut back that showed off every line of her spine, her dark hair pinned up just loosely enough for soft strands to frame her collarbones. She looked completely stunning—a sharp, high-fashion contrast to the messy varsity energy taking over the rest of the room.

And Jaemin was making sure everyone knew she was with him.

His large, calloused hand hadn't left hers since they walked through the front doors. Sitting beside her on the high barstools, Jaemin was being unapologetically, almost possessively touchy. His fingers were loosely laced through hers on top of her thigh, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles against her knuckles. Every few minutes, he’d lean in, his nose brushing the shell of her ear, his lips pressing warm, lingering kisses right against the soft curve of her throat.

"You look ridiculously good tonight," Jaemin murmured against her skin, his low baritone vibrating against her pulse point. He nipped playfully at her earlobe before pulling back just enough to look at her face, a slow, dark smirk playing on his lips. "I can barely pay attention to the beer pong tournament."

Y/N offered him a smooth, unbothered smile, taking a slow sip of her gin and tonic. "Good. That means my outfit was worth the price."

"It definitely was," Jaemin hummed, leaning down again to trail a soft kiss along her jawline, his hand sliding smoothly around her waist to pull her closer to his side.

They were playing their roles perfectly—intimate, gorgeous, and utterly unattached to anyone else in the building. It was effortless.

Except for the heavy, quiet weight pressing against the side of her face.

Directly across the open wooden tables, seated among the varsity basketball players who were shouting over a high-stakes beer pong match, sat Lee Jeno.

He was wearing a dark button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wasn't playing. He wasn't yelling with the rest of the team, and he barely touched the drink in front of him.

Instead, every single time Y/N glanced out of the corner of her eye, Jeno was looking straight at her.

He didn't make a big show of it. He sat with his elbows resting on the table, his dark eyes tracking every move she made. Whenever Jaemin leaned in to kiss her neck, whenever Jaemin’s hand rested on her thigh, or whenever Y/N let out a cool, effortless laugh, Jeno’s gaze would sharpen—steady, unblinking, and entirely unreadable.

It was a quiet, relentless stream of stolen glances that made her skin prickle beneath the thin silk of her dress.

Why is he looking over here? Y/N thought, her chest tightening with a sudden, unwanted flick of confusion. Why now?

Two years ago, he had treated her like trash on a shoe—leaking her private confession, letting his gym friends laugh at her expense, and leaving her to pick up the broken pieces of her pride in the rain. He had been cold, mean, and utterly indifferent.

She forced her fingers to tighten around her glass, her knuckles turning white for a split second before she forced herself to relax.

It doesn't matter, she told herself firmly, burying the fleeting confusion deep beneath her quiet, unbreakable exterior. He doesn't get to look. He doesn't get to care.

"Hey," Jaemin whispered into her ear, his warm breath snapping her back to reality as his lips brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear. "You zoning out on me?"

Y/N turned her head, giving Jaemin her complete, undivided attention. She reached up with her free hand, lightly threading her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Jaemin's neck, and pulled him in for a slow, lingering kiss right on the lips—deliberate, smooth, and completely unbothered by the quiet eyes watching them from across the room.

🐐🐻🐕🐴🥓🦃🥔🦌🐎🐗🐂📦🦂🟤🟫🤎🍄‍🟫🌰👜

The heavy pulse of the bass had slowed to a dull, sluggish thud, and the banquet hall was slowly emptying out into the cool midnight air.

Y/N’s head felt heavy, her thoughts floating in a warm, hazy gin-and-tonic fog. She had spent the last twenty minutes wandering through the crowded living room and patio looking for Jaemin, but he was nowhere to be found. Giving up, she walked back to the quiet end of the marble bar, her high heels clicking unevenly on the tile, and slid onto a high stool to rest her aching feet.

She leaned her elbows against the cool stone, rubbing her temples, when a shadow fell across the bar top. Someone silently pulled out the stool right beside her.

"Hi," a low, quiet voice said.

Y/N turned her head slowly, her sleepy, alcohol-hazed eyes focusing on the figure sitting next to her.

The room instantly lost all its warmth. A sharp, icy jolt of pure shock shot through her system, burning off the alcohol in a single second and leaving her hyper-aware, tense, and completely sober.

It was Lee Jeno.

She stared at him in disbelief, her mind momentarily short-circuiting as she tried to process his presence. She didn't know how to react, her hands instinctively clenching into fists on her lap.

"Oh. H-hi," she managed to say, her voice tight and completely flat.

She didn't smile. Not even a polite twitch of her lips. Even through the residual haze of the liquor, the deep, burning hatred she had carried for two years flared right back to life in her chest.

Without thinking, Y/N subtly shifted her body away from him, pulling her knees toward the opposite side of the stool to create as much distance as humanly possible.

Jeno noticed the movement, his dark eyes tracking her posture, but he didn't pull back. He rested his forearms on the bar, looking straight at her. Up close, under the dim amber lighting of the bar, the sharp, clean cuts of his jawline, his dark hair, and those steady, attentive eyes were almost sickeningly perfect. For a brief, humiliating fraction of a second, a fleeting thought crossed her mind—he still looks so handsome. It was the same face she had admired so helplessly as a freshman. But there was zero love left in her chest; just a bitter, hollow recognition of the boy who had broken her trust for a laugh.

"You look like you're looking for someone," Jeno said softly, his tone completely calm, lacking any of the arrogance she expected.

"I'm fine," Y/N replied meekly, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead on her empty glass. She pushed herself off the stool, her balance wobbling slightly as the alcohol caught up with her legs. "I'm leaving."

As she swayed, Jeno’s hand instinctively shot out, his fingers lightly brushing her wrist to steady her. "Hey, easy."

Y/N yanked her hand away as if his skin were burning hot. "I said I'm okay."

Jeno slowly drew his hand back, resting it on the bar, his expression entirely unreadable. "Jaemin’s knocked out on the sectional couch in the back room," he said quietly, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "He drank way too much whiskey with the seniors. He’s out cold—nobody can wake him up."

Y/N swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. Great. Unbelievable.

"It’s starting to pour outside," Jeno continued, his voice steady. "And Jaemin’s in no condition to drive anyone anywhere. I can give you a ride home."

Y/N stared at him, her chest rising and falling in sharp, quiet breaths. He wants to drive me home? She scoffed silently in her mind, a wave of pure disgust washing over her. She knew how guys like him operated. He probably thought she was drunk, vulnerable, and easy—that after ignoring her and humiliating her two years ago, he could just sweep in now that she was hotter, prettier, and sitting next to him in a low-back dress, and expect her to jump into his car for some late-night hookup. It made her stomach turn.

"I'll get my own ride," she said coldly, pulling her phone from her clutch.

She quickly tapped into her messages, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to call Renjun. No answer. She dialed Haechan, then Chenle—neither of them picked up, probably already asleep or out at another house party.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, a quiet curse slipping through her teeth.

She hurriedly tapped the screen to open her rideshare app, but before the map could even load, the screen flickered wildly, displayed a red battery icon, and went completely black.

Dead.

Y/N stood there under the dim bar lights, holding her dark, useless phone, the sound of heavy rain suddenly pouring down against the glass windows of the venue. She was stranded, drunk, with a dead phone, and the only person standing between her and a freezing walk in high heels was the one guy on campus she utterly despised.

🦋🧢🐟🐬🚙👥🅿️🔵🦕👖🚹🈳👤👕👔🥣🌀🔹🧞‍♂️

The heavy, rhythmic thud of the rain hitting the windshield was the only sound inside the sleek, high-end interior of Jeno’s car.

Y/N sat rigidly in the passenger seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring straight ahead into the dark, wet street. She couldn't believe she was actually here. The soft leather beneath her felt like it was burning her skin, and the faint, clean scent of his cologne filling the small space made her stomach twist into anxious knots. She had absolutely no choice, but sitting inches away from Lee Jeno felt like a waking nightmare.

Jeno kept his eyes on the road, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, turning the heater up slightly to take the chill out of the air.

"How are your studies?" he asked, his voice low and casual, breaking the suffocating silence.

Y/N’s jaw clamped shut. How are my studies? she thought, her mind reeling in pure disbelief. How the fuck does he sit there and ask me a casual question like that? After what he did? After letting his friends tear me apart like an inside joke?

"Fine," she replied meekly, her voice clipped and cold.

"Jaemin said you were working on a capstone project for risk management," Jeno continued, his tone entirely conversational.

"Yes."

"Is it going well?"

"Yes."

She didn't give him an inch, offering nothing but the absolute minimum required to keep from outright yelling at him to shut up. She just wanted to go home.

Jeno didn't push. He fell silent again, the tires hissing against the slick asphalt.

But instead of turning down the familiar main street that led to her apartment complex, Jeno smoothly signaled and pulled the car over into a quiet, shadowed turn-around near the edge of the campus park, shifting the engine into park.

The dark shadows of the trees swallowed the car, the streetlights barely reaching the windows.

Y/N’s heart instantly spiked, a cold rush of panic flooding her system. What is he doing? Why did he stop here? Her fingers gripped the edge of her clutch tightly, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Does he think he can just make a move on me now?

"I was trying to actually talk to you—" Jeno started, his voice suddenly thick, lacking the casual ease from a moment ago.

He wasn't looking at her. He was staring down at the steering wheel, his broad hands gripping the leather tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white in the dim dashboard light.

Y/N pressed herself back against the passenger door, her breath catching in her throat, her nerves pulled tight as a wire. "About what?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts to keep it flat.

Jeno slowly turned his head, looking at her through the shadows of the car. His expression was completely unreadable, stripped of the polite, distant mask he always wore.

He looked at her for a long, heavy moment before he asked softly, "Why do you hate me?"

Y/N’s breath stopped entirely.

She stared at him, utterly shocked, her mind going completely blank. Why do I hate you? The sheer audacity of the question, the quiet, almost vulnerable way he asked it, felt like a physical blow to her chest. She couldn't trust herself to speak; if she opened her mouth, she knew she would either scream at him until her lungs gave out or completely break down, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of either.

She remained frozen, her eyes wide, locked onto his.

A heavy, aching silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the rain.

Slowly, Jeno reached out across the center console. Y/N flinched slightly, but he didn't grab her arm or pull her closer. Instead, his fingers brushed gently against the side of her face, pushing a stray strand of damp hair back and tucking it softly behind her ear.

His hand lingered there for a fraction of a second, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone.

A small, sad smile touched the corners of his mouth. In the dim light of the dashboard, Y/N realized with a sharp jolt that his dark eyes were bright, glassy, and completely watery.

"You look so pretty tonight," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

He pulled his hand back, his gaze dropping away as he swallowed hard, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words heavy and final. "Let me take you home."

He didn't wait for a response. He shifted the car back into drive, pulling smoothly out of the dark turn-around and back onto the wet streets.

The rest of the drive was utterly silent. Y/N stared out the window, her mind spinning in complete chaos, the cold hatred in her chest suddenly tangled in a heavy, confusing web she couldn't untangle, until the car finally rolled to a stop beneath the awning of her apartment building.

The silence in the small room felt heavy enough to suffocate, filled only by the quiet hum of the TV and the steady rain beating against the windowpane.

Y/N sat on the far end of the sofa, her chin resting on her hand, her gaze turned toward the screen. But even without looking directly at him, she could feel the sheer weight of his eyes on her again. It was the same intense, unyielding stare from the bar, from the parking lot, and from the car.

She turned her head, her expression cool, direct, and completely stripped of any warmth. "What's up?" she asked, her voice calm and level. "You've been staring at me all night."

Jeno didn't answer right away. He immediately dropped his gaze, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. He looked visibly tense—a strange, jarring contrast to the quiet, untouchable composure he usually carried. His fingers were fidgeting nervously, his thumbs repeatedly picking at the hem of Jaemin's shirt.

The background noise of the television played on, but between them, the air was stretched completely taut.

Slowly, Jeno lifted his head again.

This time, he didn't look away. His dark eyes locked onto hers with a quiet, agonizing intensity that made Y/N’s breath catch right in her throat. There was no arrogance in his posture, no smugness, and no hidden angle—just a raw, desperate weight that felt almost crushing to look at.

Jeno let out a low, rough breath, a subtle muscle feathering in his jaw. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick and quiet. "I can't keep doing this."

He didn't make a sudden move on her, nor did he lean in to force a kiss. He just sat there on the opposite side of her small couch, his broad shoulders slouched, looking at her as if the distance between them was physically painful.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, a sudden spike of anxiety hitting her chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you tonight, Jeno?" she asked, her voice sharp, defensive, and guarded. "Seriously."

"I love you, okay?" Jeno said.

It wasn't a smooth line, and it wasn't shouted in anger. It came out as a raw, heavy statement that seemed to drain the remaining air right out of his lungs.

Y/N froze entirely. Her breath hitched, her mind short-circuiting as she stared at him in utter disbelief. "W-what?"

"I am fucking in love with you," Jeno said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he finally let the words spill out. His chest rose and fell in quiet, uneven breaths, his eyes fixed on her face with a quiet, desperate honesty.

Y/N sat there, her face a complete disaster of confusion and shock. She couldn't process the sentence. It didn't belong in her reality—not from him.

"I liked you back," Jeno admitted, the floodgates completely breaking open as he looked at her, his eyes glassy and wet in the dim light of the room. "Two years ago... when you were always around the business department, when you worked for Ms. Kang... I liked you so much. And when I found out you liked me back, I was so happy I didn't even know what to do with myself."

Y/N just stared, her throat dry, unable to form a single word.

"I was terrified," Jeno continued, his voice cracking slightly. "I'd never felt like that about anyone before. I didn't know how to act around you. I was so scared of messing things up or looking stupid that I pulled back and acted distant. But I liked you so much, Y/N."

He looked down at his trembling hands, a look of profound, bitter disgust washing over his features as he recalled it.

"And I hate myself for what I did next. I don't even know what the fuck went through my head. The guys at the gym started pushing and asking questions, and instead of protecting you, I panicked. I acted like an arrogant, stupid jerk. I showed them your message, I made you look desperate, and I ruined everything. I know it's unforgivable. I know how mean, cruel, and cowardly it was."

He took a shaky breath, his gaze shifting slowly from her face down to Jaemin's hoodie draped over her armchair, before dragging his eyes back to meet hers.

"I know you hate my guts, and I know I deserve every bit of it. I never expected you to forgive me, and I wasn't going to say anything," he whispered, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap. "But having to sit back... seeing you in Jaemin's arms, knowing he gets to touch you and hold you while I ruined my only chance... it's unimaginably hurtful for me. I just needed you to know the truth."

Jeno swallowed hard, his throat moving in a rough, strained click. He ran a hand over his face, dragging his palm down his jaw as if trying to physically pull himself back together, but the composure he usually wore like armor was completely gone.

"I know how stupid I sound right now," he whispered, his voice thick and rough. "Sitting in your apartment, wearing Jaemin’s shirt, dumping all of this on you two years too late when you’re literally sleeping with my best friend. It’s pathetic. I know it is."

Y/N couldn't move. She couldn't even blink. She just sat pressed against the armrest of her sofa, her mind reeling as she watched Lee Jeno—the guy who had always been so impossibly collected, quiet, and untouchable—completely unravel right in front of her.

"I’ve always been an idiot around you," Jeno continued, a self-deprecating, bitter smile touching his lips, though his eyes remained raw and glassy. "Even back then. Every time you walked into the department office, every time you looked at me in the library, my brain just... stopped working. I couldn't think. I couldn't act normal. I was so overwhelmed by how much I wanted you that I turned into the worst version of myself just trying to regain control."

He leaned his elbows on his knees, bowing his head slightly, his fingers tangling into his dark, damp hair.

"And tonight... seeing you at the bar in that dress. Watching Jaemin touch your waist, watching him kiss your neck..." Jeno let out a low, ragged breath, shaking his head. "It drove me out of my fucking mind, Y/N. Being near you ruins any rational thought I have. I saw you sitting alone at the bar, and instead of staying away like I knew I should, I sat down. I offered you a ride. I stopped the car in the dark just to look at you. I even reached out and touched your hair."

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze again with an intensity that felt like a physical pressure in the quiet room.

"I tried to kiss you a minute ago," he said, his voice dropping into a quiet, painful murmur. "Knowing you hate me. Knowing you're with Jaemin. It’s completely stupid. It’s insane. But whenever you're anywhere near me, I lose my mind. I can't filter myself, I can't play it cool, and I can't pretend that watching you belong to someone else isn't ripping me apart every single day."

He took a slow, shuddering breath, the silence falling heavy over the small apartment again, leaving Y/N completely speechless as his words hung in the air between them.

Y/N stared at him, her chest heaving in short, shallow breaths as the silence stretched tight enough to snap.

Her mind was a complete, chaotic mess. The fortress she had spent two years building—the quiet, unbreakable wall that kept the world at arm's length—felt like it was crumbling into dust right in front of her. For two years, her reality had been simple: Lee Jeno was the arrogant jerk who had crushed her pride, and she hated him for it.

Now, sitting on her couch, watching him look at her with eyes so raw and bloodshot they looked bruised, the script had been completely flipped.

"I..." Her voice cracked, small and trembling. She swallowed hard, staring down at her hands, which were shaking so badly she had to grip her knees to stop them. "I don't... I don't know what to say to you, Jeno."

Jeno didn't interrupt. He just stayed still, listening to every shaky breath she took, his dark eyes locked on her face.

"I hated you," she whispered, her throat tight with a wave of emotions she couldn't label—confusion, shock, old lingering hurt, and something deep, buried, and terrifyingly warm. "I hated you for two years. I told myself you were a monster. And now you sit here and tell me... this?" She looked up, her eyes wide, glassy, and completely conflicted. "I don't know what I feel right now. I don't know if I'm supposed to yell at you or run away... I don't even know if I still love you."

The admission hung in the quiet space between them—fragile, honest, and heavy.

Jeno didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, quiet resolve settled over his features. The desperation in his eyes softened into something steady, deep, and utterly undeniable.

"Let me remind you," he said softly.

He didn't rush her. He didn't pounce or grab her roughly. Slowly, deliberately, Jeno shifted across the small cushion dividing them. He raised his hand, his large, warm palm cupping the side of her jaw, his thumb gently smoothing over her cheekbone with a feather-light touch that made her skin tingle.

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, but she didn't pull back. She couldn't.

Jeno leaned in, giving her every second to stop him, until his lips brushed against hers.

The touch was impossibly soft at first—a quiet, reverent whisper of a kiss that carried the weight of two years of regret, missed chances, and silent longing. It was so gentle it made Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, a soft, involuntary gasp escaping her throat.

Jeno took advantage of that small breath, deepening the kiss. His other hand slid up to tangle into the soft hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head slightly as his mouth moved over hers with a slow, agonizing sweetness. It wasn't the distant, detached kisses she was used to; this was full of raw emotion, desperate and devotion-filled, pouring every unspoken thought into the seam of her lips.

A low, quiet sound slipped from Jeno’s throat as he pulled her closer, his chest pressing against hers until there was no air left between them. The scent of her—faint vanilla mixed with the rain outside—seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. The kiss shifted, becoming deeper, hotter, and infinitely more possessive. His tongue slid against hers, slow and thoroughly tasting her, coaxing a quiet, trembling moan from her chest.

Y/N’s hands, which had been frozen at her sides, slowly lifted. Her fingers touched the fabric of the oversized shirt he was wearing, gripping the soft cotton at his waist before sliding up his chest, feeling the heavy, frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. It was racing just as fast as hers.

Jeno shifted, pulling her onto his lap so she was straddling his thighs, his large hands anchoring firmly at her waist to keep her grounded against him. He pulled back for a fraction of a second, just long enough for their foreheads to rest together, both of them breathing heavily, their hot breath mingling in the cool room air.

"Tell me to stop, Y/N," Jeno murmured against her lips, his dark eyes wide, dark, and utterly wrecked as he looked at her. "Tell me to leave right now, and I swear to God I will walk out that door."

Y/N looked at him—at the wet sheen in his eyes, the slight tremble in his jaw, and the absolute sincerity in his face. The hatred, the confusion, and the walls she had spent years building didn't stand a chance against the sheer heat of his gaze.

She didn't tell him to leave. Instead, her fingers tightened in his dark hair, and she pulled his mouth right back down to hers.

Jeno’s breath hitched into a sharp, ragged gasp against her lips the second her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him back down. Whatever restraint he had been holding onto snapped completely.

His hands slid from her waist down to her hips, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress to lift her slightly, pulling her flush against his chest as he leaned back into the corner of the sofa. The kiss turned heavy, deep, and relentless—his tongue sliding against hers with a desperate, starved rhythm that left her dizzy. Every time she tried to catch her breath, Jeno was right there, chasing her lips, trailing hot, feverish kisses down the angle of her jaw to the sensitive skin right under her ear.

"Y/N..." he murmured, his voice completely wrecked, his thumbs pressing hard into her hips. "You have no idea... how many times I’ve dreamed of this. How many times I hated myself because it wasn't me."

A shudder ran straight down her spine as his hands worked their way up the back of her dress, unzipping it with a single, smooth pull. The cool air of the room hit her bare skin, but before she could even shiver, Jeno’s warm palms were there, covering her waist, pulling her impossibly closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between them.

He slid the silk straps off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her waist. His dark eyes flicked down, dark and heavy with a raw, reverence-filled desire that made her skin burn.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed out, his voice cracking slightly. "God, you're so gorgeous."

He leaned down, pressing his mouth to her collarbone, his tongue tracing a slow, burning path over her skin down to the swell of her chest. Y/N’s head fell back against his shoulder, her fingers digging into his broad back as a quiet, breathless moan escaped her throat. The contrast was overwhelming—the quiet, distant boy from two years ago was gone, replaced by a man completely consumed, touching her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He didn't rush. Even as his breathing turned ragged and his hands trembled against her skin, every touch was deliberate, every kiss lingering and intense. He eased her off his lap onto the soft cushions of the couch, hovering over her, his dark hair falling messy over his forehead.

Jeno stripped off the oversized t-shirt, tossing it blindly onto the floor, his broad chest and lean, defined muscles bare in the dim light of the TV screen. When his bare skin met hers, Y/N let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively coming up to trace the broad line of his shoulders, sliding down his back as he pulled her legs around his waist.

When he finally guided himself to her entrance, sliding in slow and deep, a sharp, choked gasp tore from Jeno’s throat. His eyes squeezed shut, his forehead resting against hers as he stayed completely still for a second, just feeling her wrapped tightly around him.

"Look at me," he whispered, his voice trembling as he opened his eyes.

Y/N opened her eyes, looking up through dark lashes into his gaze—glassy, intense, and utterly undone.

He began to move. It wasn't fast, and it wasn't rough. It was a deep, agonizingly slow roll of his hips that filled her so completely it made her toes curl into the cushions. Every slow, steady stroke was heavy with every word he hadn't said for two years—the regret, the quiet ache, the desperate need to erase every bad memory he had ever given her and replace it with this.

"Jeno..." she choked out, her hands gripping his arms as the pleasure coiled tight and heavy in her stomach.

"I'm here," he murmured, leaning down to capture her mouth in another deep, bruised kiss, swallowing her quiet cries as he picked up the pace. His body worked over hers with an effortless, relentless heat, his hips driving deep and full, keeping her locked against him with a firm, possessive grip on her thigh.

The room faded into a blur of heat, the quiet sound of their heavy breathing, and the rhythm of his body against hers. Every touch felt like a confession. When the tension finally broke, coiling sharp and bursting through her chest, Jeno followed right behind her—his head burying into the crook of her neck with a low, desperate groan, his entire body shuddering as he held her tightly against him, pouring every last bit of himself into her.

The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound cutting through the dim, early-morning stillness of the bedroom.

Y/N sat at the edge of the mattress, her knees pulled tight against her chest, the bedsheet wrapped securely around her shoulders. She was staring at the space beside her.

Jeno was sound asleep, the dark comforter pulled up to his waist, leaving his broad, bare back exposed to the cool room air. His dark hair was a messy, soft sprawl across her pillow, his facial features completely relaxed in rest—looking impossibly soft, gentle, and peaceful.

A heavy, suffocating knot of pure confusion tightened in Y/N’s throat.

She felt completely detached from her own body, her mind spinning in a dizzying loop as she looked down at him. What the hell just happened?

It had all moved so fast—a blur of rain, bitter memories, wet streets, an unexpected breakdown, and a flood of quiet, desperate confessions that completely shattered the reality she had lived in for two solid years. The boy she had spent months hating, the boy she swore she would never let close enough to hurt her again, was lying naked in her bed, smelling like her soap, his skin still holding the lingering warmth of the heat they had shared just hours ago.

Her chest ached with a strange, terrifying hollowness. She didn't know how to feel. She didn't know if she was supposed to be angry, relieved, or terrified. She couldn't process the fact that the cold, distant Lee Jeno had just held her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth.

Slowly, quietly, trying not to make a single sound that might wake him, Y/N reached over to her nightstand and picked up her phone. It had finally charged enough to turn back on.

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the screen, the harsh light blinding her for a second. She opened her contacts, bypassed her friends, and tapped a familiar name.

She pressed the phone to her ear, listening to the long, agonizing rings, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

On the fourth ring, the line clicked open. A heavy, sleep-slurred voice came through the speaker, raspy and quiet. "Y/N?... What's wrong? It's four in the morning."

Y/N swallowed hard, her hand tightening around the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. She looked back at Jeno’s rising and falling shoulders, her throat locking up before she managed to force the quiet, trembling words out.

"Hello, Jaemin? Are you awake?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "C-can I stay at your place for a while?"

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