MDNI !! hey peeps!! just so you know, i will be making another list of shorter fics ( under 1k ) and a haechan smau masterlist!! lmk if youre interested, will also keep on adding to this list btw!!
red velvet hearts. - @ choerrypuffs - 7.7k
lights out , lights out pt2 - @ hhaechansmoless - 17.8k + 15.8k
if i lose my mind, if i lose my mind 2 - @ slightlymore - 14.5k + 11k
caramel haechan masterlist - @ mejaemin
love virus , love virus 2 - @ twilightau - 7.6k + 5.6k
love jones , love jones 2 - @ lisired - 12.4k + 13.1k
would you film my s*x tape? - @ sweetiechenle
the boy is mine - @ domjaehyun - 101k ( 6 parts )
indica dreams - @ hazyhae - 11.7k
what the puck! - @ choerrypuffs - 11.6k
romancing - @ jenoloqy - 23.7k
risking it all , risking it all pt2 - @ kiszjuli -15.3k + 7.4k
settle down , settle down pt2 , settle down pt3 - @ hyuckmov - 22k + 18k + 11k
two rules one problem - @ liliansun - 14.8k
eight letters - @ strwbbit - 11.8k
not a big deal - @ haeiheart - 3.8k
wanna bet? - @ ilovedinodino - 15.9k
birthday mayhem - @ nebularsung - 7.5k
under the influence - @ domjaehyun - 11.6k
tease - @ hyuckiefluff - 5.8k
call d - @ neocitylights - 12k
m.i.l.f (make it last forever) - @ ncteez - 18.9k
learning languages - @ tonicandjins - 18.5k
fast times - @ choerrypuffs - 7.6k
can we love - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.5k
carpe diem - @ kiachiako - 5.1k
lucky strike - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.3k
tan lines and hushed nights - @ ch3rryd0ll - 6k
dance to this - @ heartseungs-archive - 3.8k
sugar, butter, & the royal crown - @ haechwrites - 17.1k
content warnings: mdni — smut. haechan is a perv for tits (obviously.) pwp. unprotected sex (uh oh), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, honestly just filth hk...
mimi's note: this is just a piece of writing i'm posting in the meantime while i work on my slightly longer jeno fic which is still in the drafts... release me from the shackles of writer's block.
when you first started dating haechan, you had no clue just how deep his infatuation for your tits would go.
you had simply assumed that he was just most attracted to them compared to other parts of your body, and that was it. just a preference, right? but oh boy, were you wrong.
when you two were still newly together, he would start off with simple, subtle gestures: he'd slip behind you in the kitchen while you were washing dishes or fixing up a quick meal and his arms would wrap around your waist. he'd whisper something tender like, "you look gorgeous today, baby." and then his hands would glide upward, past your torso and midriff towards your breasts. he'd gently grope and fondle the soft, full flesh there through your top, his mouth finding its way to the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder, teasing it with nips and nibbles.
but as time passed, his need for them became much more apparent, almost greedy. at whatever time he deemed right and appropriate, his palms would find your tits, sometimes through your shirt to squeeze and knead gently, while other times he'd just lift your shirt up and indulge himself fully.
anytime he desired, he'd grant himself access to your curved mounds, his palms pressed to your flesh, almost completely covering them, with his thumbs picking and pinching at your perky nipples.
and by "anytime", that truly meant anytime. while gaming, he'd pull you onto his lap facing the monitor so he could idly flick one hand up to your breasts between rounds, squeezing and kneading even as he focused on the screen. while cuddling, he loved having your back pressed flush to his chest, arms encircled tightly around you while both hands cupped your tits.
if you were being honest, it got irritating at times. he'd interrupt you mid-chore or while you were buried deep in some necessary yet pestering paperwork just to slip his warm, eager hands under your shirt without hesitation, completely ignoring your small complaints and whines.
"just continue what you were doing. pretend i'm not even here, okay? just want to feel you.."
you couldn't even refuse him though you wanted to due to how distracting it was because he constantly begged and pleaded for you to let him.
and that was only the beginning. things only intensified once he got you beneath him. or on top. he wasn't particular about the position.
when things grew heated between you two, two of his fingers soon dragging slowly in and out of your soaked folds, one of his hands still stays gripping onto one breast, his mouth sucking and tongue lapping at the pink peaks.
he's always murmuring words against your skin during sex, his voice low and rough with lust. "fuck, i love these pretty little tits so much," he'd groan, "fit so damn well in my hands."
the same can be applied to when he has his mouth occupied between your legs. his tongue is busy elsewhere, flicking against your already-swollen clit and puffy pussy lips, yet his hands still do not dare leave your cleavage.
he's a hungry, hungry man.
oh, and when he finally sinks himself fully and completely raw into you... guess where his hands love to grip? it's ridiculous, honestly. whether you're riding him, underneath him in missionary, or even from the back, his hands and fingers are constantly toying and kneading your tits that bounce in perfect rhythm with his movements.
he'll be snapping his hips up into yours repeatedly, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you so deliciously to the point that your limbs have gone numb and your eyes are rolling back into your head, but he maintains his relentlessness.
"so fuckin' tight... jesus christ, you're perfect.. love every inch of you."
and by the time things are finished, your poor tits are covered in lovebites and flushed red from his grip, and not to mention, your body is trembling from the after effects of the earthshaking orgasm he just gave you, the tears of overwhelming pleasure still pricking your eyes.
he'll be chuckling softly (like the absolute ass he is) while cleaning up the combined juices belonging to both of you from between your thighs, his gaze still roaming over those soft curves of your chest that he's so enamored with.
"my god, look at you," he murmurs.
he disposes of the dirtied tissues and climbs on top again, hovering over your shaking form.
"your tits are always pretty, but they look best like this."
a small pause.
"should i try cumming on them next?" he questions with that extremely infuriating smile of his.
pairing. fwb!haechan x reader
genre. fwb to lovers, slightest bit of angst, fluff
wc. 2.2k
summary. Donghyuck shows up at your door late evening when he realizes that he could no longer follow through with this friends-with-benefits thing… and, to his surprise? You feel the same. — Loosely based on Dive by Olivia Dean
warnings. suggestive but nothing graphic, just constant mentions of reader and hyuck being fuck buddies, reader’s shorter than him, yearner!hyuck bc all I do is write yearner!hyuck i love yearner!hyuck sm pls someone write him for me
an. ik its so similar to everything else I write, but this is me warming up yayyy!! I miss writing but work is consuming me, so I hope this doesn’t break my streak of okay quality baby fics… anyways, enjoy!
A guttural groan shamelessly slips from your lips when four loud knocks sound from your door.
You had spent almost the entirety of your afternoon trying to get your roommate, Karina, to leave the apartment, mostly for your sake, but also for her’s (she’d been cooped up in her room all week), but the very thought of company had ruined the relief you felt the second she had finally left.
A question of who that could be tickles the back of your neck, simply because Karina had her own key to head back in. So whoever stood at your doorstep was definitely not Karina.
Four more loud knocks hasten your pace, finding yourself up on your tippy toes to peek through the peephole.
You were fully expecting a delivery man, maybe the rare loiterer, or your next-door neighbour in need of missing baking ingredients, but when you see Donghyuck teetering on the balls of his feet through the fisheye lens, you fall back and unlock the door.
“Donghyuck? What are you doing here?”
It isn't working
I'm a tidal wave of question marks
And you're just surfing
His scent hits you like a truck, wafting past you the second you open the door. The last time you’d seen him was merely a few days ago, when you both agreed to meet up and… “Did I forget about—”
“No,” he replies quickly. His hands were buried deep in his sweater’s pockets, hood hugging his head, “Can I come in? Please?”
Your curiosity heightens, and you don’t even hesitate to move aside and let him into your apartment. Suddenly, your desire for alone time is long forgotten, brows knitted closely together when you watch Donghyuck shuffle to the living room like it was home.
Despite the questions running through your head, you choose to hold back. It wasn’t often that Donghyuck would come over with the intention to hang or talk. Your relationship with him was shallow, a harsh imbalance between sex and friendship. So seeing him here, uneasy and fidgety, with no interest in making moves on you was… weird.
“Look, if you want to fuck, I’m really not in the mood tonight,” you say, eyeing the coffee table of snacks and drinks sitting right in front of the TV. You already had a movie paused and ready to play had Donghyuck not interrupted.
Donghyuck shakes his head, defensive, “I’m not here to fuck, Y/N.”
“Then, what are you doing here?” Your head tilts in the slightest.
Donghyuck almost looks like he couldn’t tell you why he was there. His mouth bobs open and closed like he wants to say something, fingers picking at the tips of his other ones. Then he finally freezes in place, eyeing the table and the snacks, the couch and the TV, and then you, “Can I stay over?”
Again… weird.
“Only if you tell me why you’re being… not you…” You eye him suspiciously.
In what world was Donghyuck not able to express himself?
The hood hanging off his head slides off, revealing a head of disheveled hair, “Not me?”
“The Donghyuck I know would already be all up in my space,” you begin, “Need I remind you that I almost had to chop your arms off of me last time?” Heat rises in your cheeks as you remember how Donghyuck could not keep his hands off of you, fingers mapping the curves of your body like he was trying to commit them to memory.
He blinks at you as if you had just fibbed, and you’re tempted to question if he’s even all there.
Was he drunk? High?
You continue, “The Donghyuck I know would be undressing me with his eyes. Or would already be dragging me to my room...”
But the Donghyuck standing steps away had been gazing back at you with soft eyes, his demeanor unlike the one you were used to. It was like he’d done a full one-eighty, though not in a way that could be labeled alarming. Because this was still Lee Donghyuck. And you knew that for sure because he still gave you the same warm feeling he always did, only a thousand times more.
“You’re making me sound like some horny animal,” Donghyuck gulps. There’s a hint of shame in the tone of his voice, and the way he dodges your stare confirms your suspicions.
“Because you are when you’re with me,” you argue, “Do you get why I’m confused right now?”
Again, you see Donghyuck’s Adam's apple bob up and down, “I’m sorry…”
You don’t believe what you’re hearing, “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I never really realized how… lusty? Our relationship’s been… I-I’m sorry.”
Despite his efforts, the more Donghyuck speaks, the more confused you become, “I don’t understand what you’re apologizing for. We agreed to have this relationship. We’re fuck buddies, Hyuck. I don’t think you need to apologize about our relationship being how it is. It’s not like we’re—”
You ignore the voice that’s implying so many things, waiting for a real explanation before you jump to conclusions.
“Y/N, princess…” Donghyuck pleaded.
You blink back at him, “Donghyuck.”
“Sorr—”
“Quit saying that,” You’re ready to shake whatever this was out of him, taking a step closer to him, “Can you just tell me why you’re here?”
Donghyuck’s gaze drops to his toes, “I… had a bad day.”
“You had a bad day?” You repeat, “You had a bad day, and now you’re here?”
Donghyuck nods, “I know… I know… I’m still making sense of it all.” You see his eyes flicker back to you, and he frowns, “Can you believe that? I had a bad day, and all I wanted was to be with you.”
You open your mouth to protest, because although it wasn’t hard to believe, there was still doubt outweighing that not-so-secret other feeling. Doubt he meant what you feared he did—that he was having a bad day and now all he wanted was to have you in bed and to fill whatever void he’s trying to fill.
It’s not like this would be the first time, either.
There have been plenty of days that Donghyuck has hit you up after something mentally strenuous with the goals of distraction, taking advantage of your relationship, and using you instead of some substance that would do the same.
But just as words begin to spill out of your mouth, he speaks right over you, “I know what you’re thinking.” A frown is plastered on Donghyuck’s face, and it almost looks like he’s in pain, “And I promise you it’s different… at least I think it is. It feels like it is.”
He scrambles to piece an explanation—something that even he could understand.
How does he explain that he’s stopped seeing other people to make more time for you? How he’s cleared his calendar just so he could be there when you wanted him?
How would he make sense of the way he’s almost called you during late nights just to hear your voice? How his friends told him that he was constantly (and very annoyingly) asking for you when he was drunk?
How would he describe that flitting feeling in his chest every time your name popped up on his phone, or the way he’d catch himself smiling the whole way home from your place?
How can he justify all these things when your agreed relationship was simply friends with benefits, and he wanted something more?
“You know… It’s hard to believe you when you’ve been otherwise,” you say quietly, afraid you’re misunderstanding him. You wonder how you look right now, trying to conceal the feelings you’ve kept bottled up this whole time.
Make me
See I'm capable and fine
“You don’t understand, Y/N,” Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, “The past few weeks, I’ve never wanted to rip my heart out of my chest so badly because it’s been telling me things I didn’t want to accept or believe at first.”
His hands form soft fists, shrinking into the sleeves of his hoodie, “For the longest time, I denied it all because I wanted to respect you and our relationship and what we agreed to… and I know we agreed to this type of relationship, but there’s been so many damn times I was even afraid to touch you because it was unfair that it meant different to me than it did to you… It made me realize that I couldn’t keep doing this anymore.”
Donghyuck can see the way you’re processing his words, eyes running across his face as if he’s said something in a different language. He could feel his stomach sinking, plunging to the pit of his gut like a bucket forcibly pushed under water.
He tries his best to salvage what he believes he has left of your relationship. “Tell me to my face if what I’m feeling is wrong, and I’ll stop. I’ll try to stop. Whatever will keep you in my life, I’ll do it. I’d rather… I’d rather keep this than lose you.”
It almost feels like an eternity before you speak up, finally able to make some sense of what was happening and piecing your own thoughts together.
'Cause the water's warm
And nothing wrong, it's alright
It’s scary because you can tell how sincere he was—how sincere he is. You’ve rarely heard that tone in his voice or seen that glint in his eye, and it’s terrifying. But that same fear also feels like reassurance that what you’ve been feeling lately wasn’t just you and your delusions.
That he returned the same feelings that had been eating you in your sleep.
“I can’t do this anymore, either,” you say carefully, stating it like you’ve made up your mind.
Donghyuck’s eyes widen, eyes meeting yours in panic. “What? Y/N, didn’t you hear–”
“I can’t fuck without feelings, anymore, Hyuck,” you continue, “I can’t act like I don’t care about you when I really do… a lot…”
Donghyuck’s expression replicates a sunrise, brows hiding behind the hair that falls over his forehead. His eyes widened in what you interpreted as a mix of shock and relief, a subtle glow replacing his initial worry. His shoulders physically lift, and he staggers forward with a desire to embrace you, but he holds himself back for now.
You continue, “I know we agreed to this because there weren’t any consequences, but… but I realized a while ago that I was wrong.”
“We were wrong,” Donghyuck butted in, “We were both wrong.”
He tests the waters and takes small, hesitant steps toward you, almost like it was his first time even being in the same room as you. And when you don’t do anything to maintain the gap between the two of you, he lets himself stand just close enough so that he can take your hands in his and take a good look at you in the warm apartment lights.
“We were both wrong,” you repeat.
But you got me from my head to my feet
And I'm ready to dive
A smile finally breaks through, appearing brightly on your lips. Then you give his hands a squeeze.
The way Donghyuck’s eyes dance across your face, the way they linger upon your own, down to your lips, and back… You know that look. It was familiar, yet so drastically different from the countless times he’d use this look to reel you in and kiss you. Only now, it was doused in warmth and quiet, genuine affection.
And just when you think he’s going to swoop down to capture your lips with his, he brings them to meet your knuckles, peppering them with small kisses.
The gesture makes your heart flutter.
Because, somehow, it was more intimate than your nights together.
“Fuck, I thought I messed up so bad,” he sighs, letting out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding, “I wanted you so bad that I wanted to be selfish for once.”
This earns him a laugh from you, “And I’m glad you did.”
Then there was that look from him again, but this time, Donghyuck looked like he was struggling to hold himself back, bowing his head and shying away as if he should be ashamed of wanting to kiss you.
Tired of using words, you tug at his sleeve to catch his attention. And before he even turns to look back at you, you lift yourself up on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.
Diving into you, diving into me
Wanna swim good and I wanna swim deep
It’s a funny feeling because you and Donghyuck have kissed so many times before. It’s instinctive the way Donghyuck uses his arms to pull you in flush against his chest, and the way your arms wrap around his neck. You don’t even bat an eye at the way his hands fall to your lower back, cool fingertips brushing your exposed skin.
But there’s a tenderness that stands out in the way you hold and kiss each other—all because now there wasn’t a reason to hold feelings back.
Donghyuck pulls back and moves to plant wet kisses along your cheekbones, landing one last one on your forehead. His eyes twinkled in the dim lighting when he finally lets you go, resting his hands at your waist.
“Now, we can fuck with feelings,” Donghyuck wiggles his brows, and you don’t hesitate to swing at his shoulder. Of course, he had to ruin the moment.
You laugh, “Hyuck, please, I didn’t lie when I said I wasn’t in the mood. My movie’s waiting for me, and my popcorn’s getting cold.” At this point, the TV had automatically turned off, but it doesn’t mean you couldn’t return to it.
“I know.” The corners of his mouth lift, “I meant from now on… I can hold you because you’re actually mine, not just for the night.”
A smile beams brighter on your face.
Not just for the night.
an. u know what's crazy is I didn't even base it off the song at first but I was writing and listening to music and it came up on my playlist and I was like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE THIS IS PERFECT. Thank u Olivia Dean for amplifying this lowk half-assed fic,,, I hope u enjoyed!!
──── in which your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like haechan. boys with cocky smirks, black eye liner, bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warning labels. you never had a reason to listen until you were assigned to tutor him after school. it should have been simple. help him pass, get it over with. but there’s something about him that drew you in, and you didn’t want to pull away.
✦ drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish). forbidden love? ; tags. goodgirl!reader x badboy!haechan, suggestive, your parents are literal jerks, swearing, mentions of fighting, kissing !!, protective!haechan, corruption? but not really, lmk if i missed any ! ;
𓂃 w.c [ 15.3k / 22.7k ]
!! not proofread !!
▸ j.note ; i hadn’t planned on making this fic so long but emo haechan does something to me i guess. also pls pls give feedback i want to improve my writings in the best way possible and i know my writing needs a lot of work, so constructive criticism is encouraged.
▸ this is part one of two and part two can be found here .ᐟ
your life had always been structured, predictable, mapped out like a perfectly folded brochure of all the things you were supposed to be. the good daughter. the responsible student. the girl who never gave anyone a reason to worry.
your parents raised you with expectations as solid as the fence that surrounded your house. good grades, early curfews, polite smiles at dinners. you were the kind of girl who double-checked her answers before turning in a test, who texted home before she was even late, who never spoke back even when she wanted to.
it wasn’t that you minded. not really.
your life was safe—comfortable.
weekends were spent with the same close friends, at the same coffee shop on the corner, drinking the same latte every time and reviewing notes for exams that were still weeks away. after school, you went straight home, sometimes stopping by the bookstore if you had extra time, flipping through pages of novels where the main characters lived lives far more reckless than your own.
and you liked it that way. you liked knowing where you belonged, knowing exactly what came next.
because trouble was for other people. rule-breakers, risk-takers. the kind of people who never thought twice about consequences. people who didn’t care.
the kind of people like him. lee donghyuck—or as he preferred to be called, haechan.
lee donghyuck had always been a name whispered in the hallways, wrapped in either amusement or warning. he was the boy who skipped class but somehow still seemed to do well, the boy who wore silver rings on his fingers, black eyeliner and bruises on his knuckles, the boy who flirted with everyone but never let anyone close.
he was reckless in a way that made people watch him like a fire they couldn’t look away from.
and you? you were the girl who had spent her whole life avoiding flames.
—
science had always been your best subject.
there was something reassuring about it—formulas that always worked, reactions that could be predicted, rules that never changed. if you followed the steps, you got the right answer. it was logical. reliable.
but not everyone saw it that way.
from the back of the classroom, haechan let out a quiet sigh, loud enough that a few students glanced his way. he was slouched over his desk, barely pretending to take notes, the end of his pen tapping lazily against his open textbook.
“can anyone explain why increasing the concentration of reactants speeds up a chemical reaction?” the teacher asked.
your hand went up without hesitation.
“because a higher concentration means more particles in the same space,” you answered. “so there’s a greater chance of collisions between them.”
“correct,” your teacher said, nodding approvingly.
from the corner of your eye, you caught movement. haechan had lifted his head just enough to glance in your direction, his gaze slow and assessing. when you turned to meet it, he didn’t look away, but just studied you, the corner of his lips twitching like he was in on some joke you weren’t part of.
your teacher moved on, scribbling equations across the board, but haechan didn’t so much as pretend to care. he stretched, tipping his chair back onto two legs, hands folded lazily over his stomach, like he was just waiting for the bell to save him from all of this.
you turned back toward the front, exhaling through your nose. it annoyed you, yet you didn’t know why.
it didn’t matter, it had nothing to do with you.
he didn’t matter.
or at least, that’s what you had always thought until today.
—
you were halfway through packing your books when you heard your name.
“could you stay back for a moment,” your teacher said, just as the last bell rang.
you paused, glancing up as students shuffled past your desk, their conversations blending into white noise. you couldn’t think of a single reason you’d need to stay—your grades were perfect, your assignments were always on time, and you definitely didn’t cause any trouble.
but then the teacher said another name.
“donghyuck, you too.” you heard him correct the teacher of his name under his breath.
your fingers curled around the thick textbook you were shoving in your bag.
he was slouched at his desk, twirling a silver ring around his finger, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. it took him a second to react, but when he did, it was with an exaggerated sigh, dragging himself upright like even this was too much effort.
the classroom emptied around you until it was just the three of you, the weight of the silence settling in as the teacher folded her arms over her desk.
“haechan,” she started, “you’re failing. if you don’t pass your next exam, you’re going to have to repeat this class. and you know what that means.”
he leaned back on the closest desk to the teacher’s, completely unfazed, crossing his arms. “that i get the pleasure of spending another semester with you?”
your teacher didn’t so much as blink. “it means you will not graduate with your class. you need this credit.”
that got a reaction. his arms uncrossed as haechan’s smirk slipped, just slightly.
“which is why,” she continued, turning to you, “you’re going to tutor him.”
your mouth parted slightly. “wait—”
“you’re the top of this class,” she cut in, before you could protest. “if anyone can help him pass, it’s you.”
you swallowed. the request made sense—on paper. but logic didn’t stop the heat of his gaze as it flickered toward you, as he finally seemed to take you in.
slowly, he let his eyes drag up and down, taking his time.
your unwrinkled clothes. your neatly done hair. the way you clutched your bag like it was a lifeline.
his lips curled at the edges, something amused, something almost lazy, and yet, you felt it. the weight of being looked at like that.
“seriously?” he drawled, tilting his head, eyes still on you. “her?”
your spine straightened. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
he smiled like he’d already won. “nothing, sweetheart.”
your teacher exhaled sharply, already tired of him. “this isn’t optional. you’ll meet and study together, and if i hear that you’ve skipped even once, i will not hesitate to let you keep your failing grade. understood?”
haechan sighed, tipping his head back like this was the greatest inconvenience of his life. then, with the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips, he muttered, “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”
you could already tell. this was going to be impossible.
—
you walk out of the classroom first, stepping a little harder than intended. this wasn’t how you planned to spend your semester. tutoring some guy who didn’t even try, who slouched in his seat like he was too good for all of it, who looked at you like you were something to be amused by.
the hallway was mostly empty now, students already heading home or to their next activities. you were almost free, when a voice called out behind you.
“so, tutor, when do we start?”
you didn’t stop walking. “the library. after school tomorrow.”
haechan caught up easily, his pace unhurried, like this was all some joke to him. “ugh, the library?” he groaned. “how predictable.”
you glanced at him, unimpressed. “where else are we supposed to study? a convenience store?”
“actually, yeah.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shooting you a smirk. “sounds more fun. we could get snacks. maybe a drink. aren’t tutors supposed to motivate their students?”
you exhaled sharply. he’s messing with you. you knew it, and yet, somehow, he still got under your skin.
“you don’t need motivation,” you said flatly. “you just need to study.”
“eh, debatable,” he mused. “i think what i need is a tutor who’s a little more flexible. less ‘strict teacher,’ more ‘cute classmate who wants to help me succeed.’”
you stopped walking.
haechan took a few more steps before realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. he turned, an eyebrow raised, just as you crossed your arms.
“okay, let’s get something straight,” you said, voice firm. “this isn’t a favor. i don’t want to tutor you, but i have to. and i don’t care if you think it’s boring or predictable, because it’s either this or you fail. so if you actually want my help, show up tomorrow. on time. otherwise, don’t waste my time.”
for a second, he just looked at you, head tilted like he was reevaluating something.
then, instead of answering, he let his gaze drag over you, slowly, like he was seeing you for the first time.
you stiffened under the weight of it, but refused to look away.
after a beat, he grinned.
“damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “you’ve got a little fire under all that perfection, huh?”
you huffed, turning on your heel. “just be there.”
“yes, ma’am.”
you ignored him.
but as you walked away, you could still feel his smirk and stare burning into your back.
—
you barely stepped through the front door before your mom called out from the kitchen.
“you’re home later than usual.”
you set your bag down by the entryway, slipping off your shoes. “the teacher kept me after class.”
that was enough to get both of your parents’ attention. your dad looked up from where he sat on the couch, while your mom leaned against the counter, a slight crease forming between her brows.
“for what?” she asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
you exhaled, already bracing yourself. “she assigned me to tutor someone. he’s failing, and she thinks I can help him pass.”
your dad hummed approvingly. “well, that’s nice of you. who is it?”
you hesitated for half a second.
“haechan.”
the shift in the room was immediate. your mom stilled, and your dad turned completely this time, exchanging a glance with her before turning back to you.
“him?” your mom repeated, her voice careful.
“yes, him.” you folded your arms. “why does it sound like you already know who he is?”
your dad sighed, setting the paper aside. “people talk, sweetheart. he’s got a reputation.”
you rolled your eyes. “so what? he slacks off in class?”
your mom pursed her lips. “it’s more than that. skipping school, getting into trouble, hanging around the wrong crowds…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “just—be careful around him, honey.”
there it was. the warning.
and, of course, the assumption that you couldn’t think for yourself.
you sighed, rubbing your temple. “i’m not hanging out with him. i’m tutoring him. in the library. with textbooks.” you glanced between them. “pretty sure that’s not a crime.”
your mom didn’t look convinced, and your dad only leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.
“just don’t let him pull you into anything,” he said. “kids like that don’t change.”
you bit the inside of your cheek, a flicker of irritation curling in your chest.
they made it sound like you were helpless. like the second you spent time with him, you’d suddenly throw your whole life away. everything you’ve built for yourself.
you shook your head. “it’s not that serious.”
and before either of them could say anything else, you grabbed your bag and headed for your room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.
they were overreacting.
they didn’t know him.
and neither did you.
—
session one - monday february 23rd
the school day dragged.
it wasn’t any different from usual; classes, notes, the occasional group discussion, but today, there was a lingering awareness hanging over you. a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down to the inevitable.
you weren’t looking forward to tutoring haechan. but you had a job to do, and if he didn’t show, well… that was his problem, not yours.
by the time the final bell rang, you had already secured a table in the library, setting out your textbook, notebook, and a few highlighters. everything was neatly arranged. you had a plan, a structured breakdown of the material he needed to catch up on.
and yet, fifteen minutes passed.
then twenty.
you checked your phone, tapping your pen against your notes.
was he seriously going to ditch on the first day?
finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and then a familiar voice, drawling, “damn. you’re really taking this seriously, huh?”
you glanced up to see haechan standing there, hands in his pockets, looking completely unfazed. like he hadn’t just wasted almost half an hour of your time.
you exhaled sharply. “you’re late.”
“fashionably,” he corrected, dropping into the chair across from you.
you leveled him with a stare. “i don’t think that applies to studying.”
he shrugged. “guess we’ll find out.”
already, your patience was wearing thin. you pushed the textbook toward him, flipping to the section you had marked. “let’s start with reaction rates. you need to understand how—”
he wasn’t listening.
instead of looking at the notes, he was looking at you, head tilted slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“you always sit this straight?” he mused, tapping his pen against the table.
you blinked, looking up from the textbook. “what?”
“just saying. you’re sitting like you’re taking an exam or something.” he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “relax. tutoring’s not life or death.”
you ignored the heat creeping up your neck and flipped open your notebook instead. “can we focus?”
he hummed, like he was considering it. then, before you could continue, he leaned forward slightly, eyeing your arrangement of highlighters and pens.
“bet you highlight in, like, five different colors.”
you clenched your jaw. four, actually, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of being right.
when you didn’t respond, he grinned, undeterred. “does tutoring me ruin your whole ‘perfect student’ reputation?”
you inhaled slowly, gripping your pen a little tighter. “only if you fail,” you said flatly.
he let out a soft laugh, finally glancing at the textbook. “alright, alright. hit me with the science.”
you exhaled, pushing past your irritation. this was going to be a long session.
but one way or another, you were getting through to him.
—
the next hour closed and you left the library still irritated—but more at yourself than him.
why had your heartbeat picked up when he had leaned in? why had his teasing stuck in your head longer than necessary?
get a grip.
the school hallways were mostly empty by now, just a few stragglers grabbing things from their lockers or heading to practice. you stopped by your own locker, swapping out your books for what you needed, then headed outside.
the late afternoon air was crisp, the sky shifting into a soft orange glow. you walked home, already thinking about how you’d explain the session to your parents.
(you wouldn’t. you’d just tell them it happened and leave it at that.)
continuing your walk, barely making it past the school you hear a voice from behind you.
“yo, tutor.”
your head snapped up.
haechan. again.
he was leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, the same knowing smirk playing at his lips.
“we should celebrate.”
you frowned. “celebrate what?”
“me actually getting an answer right, obviously.” he straightened, stretching his arms behind his head. “c’mon, don’t be boring. you never just—i don’t know—do something on a whim?”
you had remembered the question he got right—which was simply the question you had answered yesterday in class. you narrowed your eyes. “if this is your way of trying to get out of studying next time—”
“relax.” he chuckled. “just messing with you. see you at our very serious study session next time, tutor.”
and with that, he strolled off like he hadn’t just left you standing there, your thoughts an even bigger mess than before.
—
session two - wednesday the 25th
you told yourself you wouldn’t get annoyed this time. you even mentally prepared for his usual antics before heading to the library.
it didn’t work.
haechan was late again. this time only by ten minutes, but still. he strolled in with an iced coffee in one hand, a lazy grin on his face like he hadn’t kept you waiting.
“you get extra credit for showing up on time, you know.”
“damn, should’ve known,” he drawled, sliding into the seat across from you. “maybe next time.”
you sighed, pushing the textbook toward him. “no distractions today.”
“that’s asking a lot.”
“it’s not.”
to your surprise, he actually made an effort. at least at first. he followed along as you explained reaction mechanisms, even nodded a few times like he understood. but the second things got even slightly complicated, he leaned back and groaned.
“why do i even need this? it’s not like i’m gonna be a scientist.”
“you need it to pass.”
“passing is overrated.”
“says the guy who’s literally failing.”
he just grinned, spinning his ring around his finger. “touché, sunshine.”
the nickname caught you off guard, making your stomach flip in a way that was foreign to you. whether he noticed your shift or not, he continued to use the name anytime he talked to you.
progress was slow, but you managed to get through two topics before he started messing around again, twirling his pen, asking dumb hypothetical questions that had nothing to do with chemistry.
“if i fail, do you fail too? since you’re my tutor?”
“no.”
“damn. no stakes for you then, huh?”
“just the overwhelming frustration of having to deal with you.”
“you wound me.” he clutched his chest dramatically, then smirked. “you sure you’re not starting to like our little sessions, though?”
you rolled your eyes. “go home, haechan.”
he laughed as he stood up, giving you a lazy salute before walking off.
session three - friday the 27th
miraculously, haechan was on time. but that didn’t mean he behaved.
“don’t look so shocked, tutor.” he plopped into his usual seat. “i can be responsible when i wanna be.”
“so, you just choose not to be?”
“exactly.”
today, he actually put in a little more effort, asking questions instead of just guessing his way through answers. you started to think, maybe this tutoring thing wouldn’t be a total waste of time.
and then, halfway through, he got bored.
“okay, pop quiz,” he said, snapping his book shut. “if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?”
you blinked. “we are not doing this.”
“come on, humor me.”
“fine,” you muttered, flipping through your notes. “something small. simple. maybe a quote.”
“predictable,” he teased. “what if i said i’d get your name tattooed?”
you shot him a deadpan look. “then i’d question all of your life choices.”
he laughed, drumming his fingers against the table. “nah, i’d get something cool. a dragon or something. or maybe—” he wiggled his brows. “a chemical equation, just for you.”
“how generous.”
“i try.”
somehow, even with the distractions, he managed to retain at least some of what you covered. as you packed up, he tapped his pen against the table.
“hey, sunshine.”
you glanced up, not missing his smirk at your responding to the name.
“don’t miss me too much over the weekend.”
“leave.”
he laughed all the way out the door.
session four - monday march 2nd
you were already exhausted from the start of the new week, and haechan wasn’t helping.
“mondays shouldn’t exist,” he grumbled, dropping into his chair.
while you agreed, you had to keep him focused. “you still have to study.”
“brutal.”
you launched straight into the material, ignoring his dramatic sighs and complaints about how unfair school was. surprisingly, he focused for a solid thirty minutes—until he caught you tapping your foot.
“you’re impatient today,” he observed, tilting his head.
“or maybe i just want you to actually learn something.”
“i am learning. look,” he pointed at an equation. “i even remember this one.”
you checked. he was right.
“wow,” you deadpanned. “you have a functioning brain after all.”
“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
despite yourself, you bit back a smile.
the session ended with him actually completing the assigned questions, granted, after a lot of coaxing. as you packed up, he tapped the table again, just like last time.
“see you wednesday, sunshine.”
this time, you didn’t tell him to leave.
you did however, roll your eyes as he walked away, still grinning.
—
session five – wednesday the 4th
it was one of those days.
haechan was late—again. not by much, but enough to make you grit your teeth when he finally strolled in, a bag of chips in one hand, looking like he had nowhere better to be.
“don’t look at me like that, sunshine.” he smirked as he slid into his seat. “traffic was brutal.”
“you walk here.”
“damn. caught me.”
you inhaled sharply through your nose, pushing the worksheet toward him. “just start.”
he did. kind of.
five minutes in, he was tapping his pen against the table. ten minutes in, he was spinning his rings. fifteen minutes in, he was leaning back in his chair with a yawn.
“haechan,” you warned.
“hmm?”
“can you at least pretend to care?”
he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “depends. does it bother you?”
you shook your head. “whatever.”
“relax, sunshine.” he tilted his head. “you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
you ignored the way heat crept up your neck. “just answer the question.”
he glanced at it. “mm… ‘catalyst slows down a reaction.’”
you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. “no. it speeds up a reaction—”
“eh, close enough.”
“no, it’s not—” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. “are you even trying?”
“nah.”
that was it.
“then why the hell are we even doing this?”
he blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. but you were already pushing back your chair, stuffing your notes into your bag with sharp, deliberate movements.
“if you fail, that’s your problem. not mine.”
you didn’t wait for a response. just walked out, leaving him sitting there—still smirking, but something in his expression had shifted.
session seven – monday the 9th
the session was supposed to be like any other. you’d prepared the material, you had everything set up, and you were expecting the usual. you didn’t expect haechan to show up on time—or at least not to show up with an actual sense of purpose.
he slung his bag over the chair and slumped down. his usual cocky grin wasn’t there.
“what’s wrong with you?” you asked, surprised at how… serious he seemed.
he didn’t answer right away, instead just staring at the notes in front of him with furrowed brows.
“this is dumb,” he muttered under his breath.
you raised an eyebrow. “what’s dumb? the concept? the subject? or… you?”
he flicked his eyes to you, but there was no usual smirk, just irritation. “all of it.”
you frowned. “this isn’t the usual ‘i don’t care’ routine. what’s going on?”
he didn’t meet your eyes, instead flicking through the textbook like he was hoping to find a way out of this.
“i just don’t get it,” he said, voice tight.
you sat back, eyeing him carefully. you were so used to him breezing through everything, acting like he didn’t care, so this sudden frustration was… different. it threw you off.
“you’ve got this. we’ve gone over it before.”
“yeah, well, it’s not clicking today,” he shot back, rubbing his temples like he was battling a headache.
you leaned forward, speaking more gently than usual. “haechan, this stuff isn’t hard. you just have to stop shutting down every time it gets tough.”
he looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but frustrated. he clearly didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were right.
“i don’t shut down,” he muttered. “it’s just… everything else is easier. this? it feels like i’m failing at something i can’t even explain.”
you blinked, taken aback. haechan never let anything get to him, at least not this much.
“okay,” you said, shifting your tone to something a little more reassuring. “we can take it slow. i’ll help you through it.”
but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t just about the chemistry. there was something deeper in his frustration—something he wasn’t saying.
he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. “maybe i just don’t get it because i’m not supposed to. i’m not like you, sunshine.”
“no, you’re not,” you said softly. “but i know you can get it. you have to try.”
there was a long silence between you, and for the first time in a while, you realized that your usual teasing, quick comebacks wouldn’t fix this.
haechan’s eyes met yours for a fleeting second, something raw in them. then, he sighed.
“this is stupid,” he muttered, but there was a softness to his voice. “i’ll try.”
and for once, you believed him.
—
days later, sunday dinner was quiet, just the soft clinking of utensils against plates and the low hum of the tv in the background. your parents had been giving you a look all evening. the kind that meant they had something to say but were waiting for the right moment.
you didn’t have to wait long.
“so,” your mom started, too casually. “how’s tutoring going?”
you didn’t even glance up from your plate. “fine.”
“fine?” your dad echoed. “that’s it?”
you shrugged, poking at your food. “what else is there to say?”
your mom set down her fork. “is he at least putting in effort?”
you huffed. “define effort.”
they exchanged a glance, the kind that made you feel like a kid again, like they already knew exactly what was going on.
“we just want to make sure he’s not wasting your time,” your dad said. “if he’s not serious about learning, you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“he’s… getting better,” you admitted, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. he was trying, in his own way, but it was a slow process.
your mom still looked unconvinced. “just be careful, sweetheart.”
you frowned. “careful?”
“boys like him…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “they can be a distraction.”
“he’s not a distraction,” you said immediately, but the way she raised an eyebrow made your stomach twist.
and then— “you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”
you nearly choked. “what? no. why would you even—?”
“because it happens,” your dad cut in, giving you a pointed look. “you spend enough time with someone, and next thing you know, you start making excuses for them.”
“i’m not making excuses.” you leaned back in your chair, suddenly desperate to get out of this conversation. “and i definitely don’t have a crush on him. it’s just tutoring. that’s it.”
they didn’t argue, but the look in their eyes said enough.
—
session ten – monday the 16th
you weren’t sure why your parents’ question was still echoing in your head. it was ridiculous, really. you didn’t have a crush on him. just because he was annoying, and cocky, and had that stupid smirk that made your stomach flip sometimes—no. not sometimes. never. it didn’t matter.
but still, as you walked into the library, setting your bag down at the usual table, you felt weirdly… off. distracted.
you pulled out your notes, trying to shake the thought, but haechan just had to say something.
“damn, sunshine. you look tense. bad day?”
you jumped slightly at his voice. he was standing next to you now, one hand gripping the chair as he spun it lazily before sitting down. he was late, as usual, but this time you hadn’t even noticed.
“fine,” you said quickly, focusing on your notes.
“you sure?” he tilted his head, leaning forward on the table. “you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
you did. but there was no way in hell you were going to tell him what.
“it’s nothing,” you said, too quickly. “let’s just get started.”
but as the session went on, you found yourself more distracted than usual. every time he leaned in, every time he ran a hand through his hair, every time he smirked at something that wasn’t even funny, you thought of your parents’ voices in your head.
“you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”
no. you weren’t. you refused to.
but then he tapped his pen against the table, glancing at you through his lashes. “you’re really off today, sunshine. what’s up?”
and maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the fact that you hated how observant he could be, but you snapped.
“you. you’re up. why do you talk so much?”
he blinked, clearly not expecting that. then, he grinned. “because you like it.”
“i don’t.”
“liar.”
you groaned, running a hand down your face. this session was going to be impossible.
—
session twelve - friday the 20th
you had a feeling he wasn’t going to show up.
maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t texted all day—not that he ever really did, but usually, there was something. some offhand comment about how he was so tired or how he was mentally preparing for another “brutal” study session. but today? nothing.
still, you sat at the usual table, notes spread out, waiting.
and waiting.
and waiting.
until finally, you checked the time and realized it had been forty-five minutes.
you scoffed, shoving your notes back into your bag with more force than necessary. of course he wouldn’t show up. of course, he’d waste your time like this.
this was exactly why you didn’t like him.
not that you had to remind yourself. but things like this. his impulsiveness, his lack of reliability, the way he did whatever he wanted without considering anyone else, made it so much easier to not like him.
except, if that were really true, you wouldn’t be this pissed off.
you stormed out of the library, typing out a single text before shoving your phone deep into your pocket.
“seriously?”
no greeting. no unnecessary words. just that.
and when he didn’t respond, you told yourself you didn’t care.
even though, somehow, he was all you could think about for the rest of the night.
—
the weekend was quite eventful.
saturday -
you weren’t mad.
at least, that’s what you told yourself as you pulled out your laptop that morning, trying to focus on the essay you’d been putting off. it had nothing to do with him. nothing to do with the fact that he’d completely wasted your time yesterday. it wasn’t like you cared.
but when your phone lit up beside you, your heart jumped a little too fast. you grabbed it instinctively. only to see a notification from your bank about your spending this month.
you exhaled sharply, tossing your phone aside. see? you weren’t waiting for a text. because you weren’t expecting one. because you didn’t care.
still, you had to physically stop yourself from checking your messages every hour, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, you were in a terrible mood.
saturday night -
“so let me get this straight,” your friend, karina said, stirring her drink lazily. “he didn’t show up. didn’t text. and…now you’re mad about it.”
you scowled, leaning back in your chair. “i’m not mad.”
she raised an eyebrow. “you sure? cause you seem pretty mad.”
you crossed your arms. “i just don’t like when people waste my time. it’s inconsiderate.”
“right.” karina smirked, tilting her head. “but it’s weird, isn’t it? because you weren’t even this mad when you thought he wasn’t taking tutoring seriously. but now? now he misses one session, and suddenly, it’s a big deal?”
you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “that’s not the point.”
“mhm.” she sipped her drink, clearly unconvinced.
you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but as you stared down at your untouched food, a thought crept into your mind.
was she right?
sunday afternoon -
you spotted him before he saw you.
standing by the counter at the campus café, looking as unbothered as ever. hoodie slightly loose around his shoulders, rings glinting under the dim lighting as he scrolled through his phone.
he wasn’t avoiding you, then. because avoiding would at least mean he knew he did something wrong.
the irritation that had been simmering all weekend bubbled over. before you could think twice, you were already walking toward him.
“oh, hey, sunshine.” he glanced up as you stopped beside him, smiling like nothing had happened. “you look cute when you’re brooding.”
you didn’t waste time. “you didn’t show up.”
he shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “yeah. something came up.”
“something came up?” your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn’t care. “you could’ve at least said something.”
he leaned against the counter, studying you with an amused tilt of his head. “why? you miss me?”
your fingers curled into fists at your sides. because he was doing this on purpose. pushing, testing, waiting to see how much you’d react. and you hated that it was working.
“you’re unbelievable.” the words came out in a breath, laced with frustration.
and then you turned on your heel and walked away before you could say anything else you’d regret.
but the worst part? the absolute worst part?
he was still in your head, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.
—
session thirteen - monday the 23rd
for the next two weeks, you and haechan had to change locations as club was having their meetings in the library. you moved to a classroom near the library.
monday’s session wasn’t a disaster. in fact, it was almost… normal.
he showed up—five minutes late, but that was practically on time for him. he didn’t ignore the notes you laid out, didn’t spend the whole time spinning his rings or making dumb comments. he even answered a few questions correctly, which honestly shocked you.
“so you do pay attention sometimes,” you muttered when he got one right.
“wow, sunshine.” he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “say that again. maybe i’ll start believing you actually like having me around.”
you scoffed, underlining something in your notebook just to avoid looking at him. “don’t push it.”
he chuckled but didn’t push. and for the first time since this whole tutoring arrangement started, things actually felt… okay. he was still distracting, still teasing you every chance he got, still doing that infuriating thing where he leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. but at least he was trying.
and that was enough.
for now.
later that week, things changed.
session fifteen- friday the 25th
you were still in one of the school’s empty classrooms, finishing up some notes for yourself. it was already late when you heard the classroom door creak open.
too late for a tutoring session. too late for him to be here at all.
you looked up, expecting a janitor, maybe a teacher. instead, you saw him.
“oh my god.” your breath caught when you finally glanced up. “what happened to you?”
he looked…rough. a split lip, a bruise already blooming on his cheekbone, dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. his knuckles were bruising and stained with a little blood, like he’d been swinging at something—or someone.
“nothin’.” his voice was quieter than usual, the usual cockiness dulled by exhaustion. “just a bad night.”
“bad night? you look like you got your ass kicked.” you frowned, already standing. “who—why—”
“doesn’t matter.” he waved a hand, like he wanted to brush it off, but even that small movement made him wince.
you sighed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “stay here.”
he didn’t argue as you left, and when you came back a few minutes later, first aid kit in hand, he still hadn’t moved. just sat there, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh, like he was waiting for the fight to start back up again.
but when you stood in front of him, tilting his face up slightly so you could dab at the cut on his lip, he stilled.
“you don’t have to do this,” he murmured.
“you don’t have to get into fights.”
he huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.
when you knelt beside him and took his hand in yours, he barely reacted, letting you clean the dried blood from his knuckles. his skin was warm under your touch, but you ignored that. just like you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on you, dark and unreadable.
for a while, there was only silence. the soft press of gauze against his skin, the quiet scrape of your nails as you brushed away the dried blood. and through it all, he just watched you.
like he didn’t understand why you cared.
“you’re not supposed to fix me, sunshine,” he said eventually, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “just tutor me.”
you didn’t look at his eyes. “maybe i just don’t want to watch you fall apart.”
his breath hitched slightly. and maybe you imagined it, but for the first time, the fight in his eyes flickered. just for a second.
he didn’t say anything else. but something shifted in that moment.
because later, when he went home, he touched the bandage you had carefully pressed onto his skin, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.
and even though he would never admit it. maybe not even to himself, that was the moment he started falling for you.
—
after that night, things feel different. you tell yourself they’re not, that nothing’s changed, that you’re just imagining the way your chest tightens when you catch him looking at you in the middle of a study session. but it’s there, lingering in the spaces between words, in the silence that lasts too long, in the way his teasing remarks don’t land the same way anymore.
the next session, he actually tries.
not in an obvious way—he’s still late, still sighs dramatically when you hand him a practice problem, still taps his pen against the table like he’s counting down the minutes until he can leave. but when you ask him a question, he answers. when he gets something wrong, he listens when you explain instead of brushing it off.
session sixteen - monday the 28th
“so, what, you’re suddenly serious about passing?” you ask, watching as he leans forward, elbows braced against the table.
he tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe i just like seeing you all impressed when i get something right.”
you roll your eyes. “trust me, you’d have to try way harder for that to happen.”
but you don’t mean it. because when he mutters the right answer under his breath, brow furrowed like he’s actually thinking, something twists in your stomach. you shove the feeling down before it can take root.
—
then, he starts showing up.
not just to your tutoring sessions—those are still scheduled, still predictable, still something you can control—but to other places. places he shouldn’t be.
like when you’re sitting outside between classes, notebook open in your lap, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement.
“wow,” his voice cuts through the quiet, lazy and amused. “you really do study all the time, huh?”
you glance up, frowning as he drops into the seat across from you. “what are you doing here?”
he shrugs, peeling the label off his drink. “nowhere else to be.”
he stays. doesn’t do much—just picks at his rings, tosses casual comments your way, complains about the weather. at first, it’s just once. then it happens again. and again.
“you know you don’t have to sit here, right?” you say one day, not looking up from your laptop.
“i know.”
he doesn’t leave. and you don’t tell him to. maybe that’s your first mistake.
—
the evening air is crisp, biting at your skin as you step out of the library. you tug your jacket tighter around yourself, putting your earbuds in as you start down the quiet path leading off campus. most of the streetlights flicker on as it got darker.
you don’t hear him at first.
not until he falls into step beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.
“hey, sunshine.”
you nearly trip, ripping an earbud out as you whip your head to the side. “what the—why are you here?”
he doesn’t look at you, just keeps walking like this is the most natural thing in the world. “walking.” he motions in front of him.
“walking where?” you press, your suspicion growing.
he exhales, tilting his head toward the sky as if debating whether to answer. finally, he shrugs. “just making sure you get home okay.”
you slow your steps. something about the way he says it, like it’s just a fact, like it’s obvious, throws you off balance.
“i don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter.
“yeah, i know.”
“so why—”
“just shut up and keep walking.”
the words should annoy you. they do annoy you. but something in his casual but firm tone, like he’s already decided he’s doing this whether you like it or not, leaves no room for argument. so you walk, stealing glances at him every so often, watching the way he shifts his weight, the way his fingers flex like he’s holding back something he’ll never say out loud.
“this isn’t a habit now, is it?” you ask after a few minutes.
“depends.”
“on what?”
“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”
you roll your eyes but don’t push.
when you finally reach your place, you stop at the fence, hesitating. you should say goodnight. you should say thanks, maybe. but before you can decide, he’s already a few steps away, hands still buried in his pockets, gaze fixed ahead.
“see you later, sunshine.”
he doesn’t look back. doesn’t wait for a response.
but for some reason, you watch him walk away anyway.
—
you should be asleep.
but you’re not.
instead, you’re lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the walk home in your head like a movie you can’t turn off. like the flickering streetlights, the cold air, the steady sound of footsteps beside you—his footsteps—are all burned into your mind.
you shift onto your side, pulling your blanket up to your chin. it’s stupid. he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything that should be lingering like this. all he did was show up. all he did was walk.
but still.
“just making sure you get home okay.”
he’d said it like it was nothing. like it wasn’t a thing.
but it was. wasn’t it?
you sigh, rolling onto your back again. your phone sits on your nightstand, screen dark, no notifications. not that you expected any. he’s not the kind of guy to text. but still, some stupid part of you wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.
not about you. just—about anything.
maybe he’s already asleep, completely unbothered, already moved on. maybe it meant nothing to him.
but then again—
“depends.”
“on what?”
“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”
you close your eyes, exhaling slowly.
you don’t know what’s worse. the fact that he might actually do it again.
or the fact that you kind of want him to.
—
session nineteen - monday april 4th
you check the time again.
ten minutes late.
with an annoyed sigh, you tap your pen against the open notebook in front of you, debating whether to give up and leave. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before. showing up whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s doing you a favor by even bothering. but this time, it’s grating more than usual. maybe because things have been different lately—less antagonistic, more… whatever this weird tension is that neither of you have acknowledged.
and then, just as you’re about to slap your notebook shut, a chair scrapes against the floor.
“took you long enough,” you mutter without looking up.
“miss me?”
the smirk is there—you can hear it in his voice even before you meet his gaze. he leans back in his chair, stretching out like he has all the time in the world. no apology, no excuse. just him, always testing your patience.
you roll your eyes and push his notebook toward him. “just open your book.”
the session starts off okay, at first. he’s actually trying—not a lot, but enough. he answers a few questions, gets some right, listens when you explain the ones he gets wrong. but there’s something off about him today.
he’s restless. more than usual.
his fingers tap against the table, his rings clicking against each other in a way that makes your nerves buzz. he sighs every time you correct him, leans back so far in his chair that you’re convinced he’s seconds away from tipping over. but most of all, he’s not looking at you.
not in the usual way, at least. he usually stares—lazy, smug, like he’s waiting for you to snap. but today, it’s like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. like he’s somewhere else.
“what is wrong with you today?” the words slip out before you can stop them.
haechan raises an eyebrow, finally meeting your eyes. “me? nothing. maybe you’re just extra grumpy today.”
you glare. “maybe i wouldn’t be if you were actually focused.”
he clicks his tongue, shutting his notebook with a dull thud. “yeah? and what if i don’t feel like it?”
your patience snaps. “then why are you even here, haechan?”
silence.
his expression shifts—just barely, but enough for you to see it. the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away.
and then he speaks so quiet, almost to himself.
“good question.”
your breath catches. because suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re talking about tutoring anymore.
neither of you speak after that.
the rest of the session is stiff, words clipped and movements sharp. when it ends, he doesn’t throw a smug remark over his shoulder, doesn’t tease you like he usually does. he just stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and walks out without looking back.
you stay sitting there long after he’s gone, staring at the empty chair next to you.
heart pounding for reasons you don’t want to think about.
—
session twenty - wednesday the 6th
wednesday’s session is quieter than usual. it’s like there’s a wall between the two of you—still the same awkwardness, but with more… space.
haechan is more focused than before, but there’s a distance in the way he engages with the material. no smart comments, no teasing, just a steady silence as he works through the problems. every time your fingers brush over his paper to point out a mistake, there’s a brief, electric pause. neither of you comment on it, but it lingers, like a promise neither of you are ready to make.
but by the end of it, he’s gone without a word. not a smile, not a look. just the door shutting quietly behind him.
—
session twenty one - friday the 8th
friday’s session is different.
when he walks in, there’s a heaviness about him, something off—his face is bruised again, his lip split like last time, hair slightly tousled, and there’s a subtle tremble in his step like he’s not sure whether to be here or not. his eyes avoid yours as he slides into the chair across from yours, too close to be casual but too distant to be comfortable.
the silence between you is charged from the start, but it’s not the playful tension you’re used to. it’s thick, raw, almost uncomfortable.
you can’t help but stare at the bruise blooming across his jaw, the scrape on his chin, and the other cuts scattered across his arms. the anger and adrenaline radiate off him in waves, but there’s something deeper underneath all of it—a tiredness.
you try not to let your voice crack, but the concern breaks through anyway. “what happened?”
haechan doesn’t meet your gaze. his eyes are dark, like he’s trying to bury something under all that nonchalance. “it’s nothing.”
you don’t believe him. obviously. not looking like that. “haechan, don’t lie.”
finally, he looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that makes you freeze—raw vulnerability laced with a bitterness you can’t quite place. “someone said something about you,” he says quietly. “something i didn’t like.”
you feel the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no hiding the unease creeping into your tone.
he’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table as he thinks about how to phrase it. then, he just blurts it out: “i fought over you.”
it takes you a second to process. “what?”
he looks at you, this time, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for something. “they were talking about you. bad stuff. i couldn’t just sit there. i—” his words falter, like he’s not sure why he’s even explaining this to you.
you don’t know what to say. your heart beats harder, faster. “so you just…?”
“i lost it.” he’s not ashamed, not exactly, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel like he’s letting go of more than just the fight. “i couldn’t stand it. i had to do something.”
and that’s when it hits you—the depth of everything he’s been hiding behind those sharp smirks and sarcastic comments.
without thinking, your fingers move—just a soft brush against his darkening knuckles, like it’s the only thing you can do to make sense of all this. you feel the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips, and the contact burns, even though it’s so small.
haechan’s breath catches. there’s a moment of complete silence, and then he slowly, so slowly, moves his fingers that were under yours.
you hold your breath, fingers trembling just a little. and then, as if testing the waters, he slides his fingers up to rest his hand against yours. you found your hand opening up, as your palms touched slightly. his finger tips grazing your with a ghost-like touch. for a second, neither of you moves. there’s a fragile, delicate tension that seems to freeze the room in place.
and then, without saying a word, he lets his fingers gently curl around yours.
it’s slow, tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but when you don’t, when you let him, he doesn’t hesitate. his grip tightens just enough, not too much—just enough to say this matters.
your heart races, and your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.
you let your fingers slip into the spaces between his, moving carefully, slowly.
there’s no hurry. just the quiet sound of your breaths mingling with the subtle click of his rings as his fingers settle between yours.
his eyes drop to your hands, studying the way you fit together, the way your fingers slide against his, perfectly and effortlessly. it’s intimate in a way that makes everything around you disappear. there’s only the soft warmth of his hand in yours, the quiet thrum of something unspoken growing louder between you.
he leans forward slightly, his voice quiet, almost like a confession. “i fought because of you,” he says, the weight of his words settling between you two like a secret you didn’t expect.
you want to say something, want to ask why, but the words don’t come. your chest feels tight. why would he do that for you?
his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the motion slow and careful, and you feel the heat of his touch seep through you. “i couldn’t just let them say shit about you,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “no one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”
you finally meet his gaze, your chest tight with something you can’t name. he holds your hand gently, but there’s a possessiveness in his touch, something protective that you can’t quite ignore.
the air between you is thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. he doesn’t let go of your hand, doesn’t move away, and neither do you.
you’re not sure how long you sit there, fingers entwined, the world outside of this moment fading away. but somehow, it feels like everything has changed between you two in that quiet, intimate touch. Something that didn’t need to be spoken but felt.
neither of you moves, not yet. not until it’s time.
—
saturday -
saturday morning arrives with the lingering weight of haechan’s words from the previous session. “maybe we could grab a coffee or something. no tutoring… just…”
his voice still echoes in your mind as you get ready. you don’t know why it’s making you nervous. you’ve spent hours with him tutoring, in tight spaces, talking about everything under the sun, but this feels different. it’s not about grades or chemistry anymore. it’s about you and him—just two people.
when your parents asked where you were off to, you brushed them off with a simple. “studying at the café,”.
at 2 p.m., you arrive at the cafe a little early. your heart beats louder in your chest as you stand outside, looking at the door, unsure whether you should go in first or wait. but before you can make up your mind, haechan appears. he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. his messy hair adds to the vibe—relaxed, but there’s an intensity in the way he walks towards you.
“hey,” he greets with that familiar teasing smile, but it’s less playful today, more reserved. he watches you for a beat, like he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling.
“hey,” you respond, your voice steady but your insides twist with something unfamiliar.
the conversation starts easy, like a continuation of your tutoring sessions, but it quickly morphs into something more personal. you laugh at his jokes, and he cracks a few of his usual sarcastic comments. but this time, they don’t feel so cutting—they feel like an invitation, an effort to connect.
you tell him about your favorite subjects, and he talks about his struggle with science (which he completely tries to play off like he doesn’t care about). somehow, you both end up talking about your childhoods, your families, and some awkward high school moments. the more you talk, the more the layers fall away, and you realize this is more real than you expected. he really wasn’t some monster that everyone seemed to paint him as.
as you finish your drinks, there’s an uneasy silence between you two. haechan runs a hand through his hair, and you shift in your seat, unsure of what to do next. the energy between you both is charged now—unspoken words hang thick in the air, and it’s almost unbearable.
“well, sunshine,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “i guess I’ll see you on monday?”
you nod, too quickly, almost relieved to escape the pressure of the moment. “yeah, monday.”
you both stand, and as you turn to walk away, you feel his eyes on you. you can’t tell if it’s admiration or something else, but the way he watches you feels different now.
sunday -
sunday passes quietly, but the space between you and haechan feels wider, even though you just saw him the day before. you try not to think about the little moments—the way he looked at you, how close you both were, how much you wanted him to say more. but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you both left so much unsaid, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.
he doesn’t text you at all. the silence is deafening. you tell yourself it’s probably a good thing; after all, you don’t need to overanalyze everything, right? but then again, why does it feel so heavy?
you end up spending the day at home, alone with your thoughts. the weekend was supposed to be simple, a break from the usual, but now you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more complicated than that. haechan has always been complicated, but now you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something, not sure whether to jump or step back.
session twenty two - monday the 11th
by the time monday rolls around, you’re feeling restless. there’s a shift in your mood. a nervous energy that you can’t shake off, and when you step into school, it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen. you can’t decide if it’s anticipation or dread, but either way, you’re drawn back to the tutoring session.
when haechan finally walks into the classroom, you can’t tell if he’s acting like everything is normal or if he’s pretending. he gives you a short wave, but it’s not his usual playful smile. it’s different now. there’s something more cautious in his movements.
you both settle into your usual rhythm—he’s late, of course, but he’s quieter today. you’re not sure if that’s because of the weekend or if it’s something else entirely.
the session goes well, mostly. it’s like before, in the sense that you both get through the work, but there’s an added tension. he looks at you a little longer than he usually does, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s trying to understand something. the usual teasing is absent today, replaced by a different energy—more subtle, more cautious.
by the end of the session, you can’t help but feel like you’re caught in this strange, unspoken limbo between what you both were and what you might be. you still don’t know where it’s going, but you’re both standing at the edge, unsure whether to jump or wait to see what the next step will be.
—
session twenty three - wednesday the 13th
it’s the final session before the break, and everything feels different. the air feels thicker, charged with something neither of you are saying but both know is there. you both sit at the desk, the tension palpable, but neither of you are focused on the notes in front of you. it’s like the classroom walls are closing in, and neither of you can breathe easily.
you keep glancing over at him, trying to stick to the lesson, but he’s just… there, too close, too present. the words he’s saying are just noise in the background as his eyes flicker over you every time you speak, his gaze heavy, simmering. you know it’s not just the subject anymore. something has shifted.
“you’re not listening,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.
he looks at you, not surprised, but not unaffected either. “neither are you,” he replies, and there’s something in his voice that’s too calm. too knowing.
you press your lips together, trying to keep your composure. “well, you’re not even trying.”
he smirks, leaning back in his chair slightly. “again, neither are you.”
there’s a challenge in his voice, and it sets something off inside you. something snaps. you stand up more abrupt than you anticipate, trying to collect your thoughts but only feeling more overwhelmed by the space between you two. you feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of the tension, like there’s something about to break, and you don’t know if you want to stop it or let it happen.
you cross your arms, pacing around the small desk, trying to cool the heat you feel flooding your chest.
“why are you so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than him.
“because you make it easy,” he says, voice low, leaning forward, his eyes locked on you in a way that makes your knees weak.
he stands up slowly, the movement purposeful, and your heart skips a beat. the space between you is closing, and before you can make sense of what’s happening, he’s there, standing right in front of you.
his hand brushes against yours, and you feel it like a spark, his fingers just grazing yours before he holds your wrist lightly, tugging you closer to him. you can’t move, rooted in place by something deeper than just attraction.
and then he kisses you.
it’s a kiss that’s full of everything you’ve been holding back. the anger, the frustration, the need for something more that you don’t know how to name. it’s messy, urgent, like both of you are desperate to see how far you can go without letting go. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing against him as you kiss him back, just as hungry, just as eager.
you feel his grip on your wrist tighten, pulling you closer as his other hand slides to your waist. the kiss deepens, and the world around you disappears. it’s just you and him, the heat of his lips against yours, the press of his body against yours.
you can’t help but give in, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, your breath coming faster as the intensity builds.
and then, just as suddenly, it breaks.
you pull back, hands trembling, and you stare at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.
you feel guilty.
you glance away, trying to catch your breath, but all you can hear are the voices from the past—the warnings your parents gave you, the things they said about boys like him.
“boys like him are trouble.”
the words echo in your mind like a warning. trouble.
you can’t ignore it. your heart sinks, and a cold wave of uncertainty washes over you. this is trouble.
you step back, trying to create some distance, trying to make sense of it all. “this isn’t… supposed to happen.”
he stays silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. then, quietly, he says, “i don’t want to stop.”
you shake your head, backing away, but you can’t seem to find the words. everything’s spinning in your head. he’s trouble, but you want him.
“haechan,” you whisper, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, “i—this was a mistake.”
he doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you grab your things, your heart heavy in your chest.
you don’t know how to fix this, don’t know how to untangle the mess you’ve just made of your feelings. you only know that walking away is the only thing you can do right now, even if every step you take feels like it’s pulling you away from him and yet dragging you closer at the same time.
you leave without another word, but as you walk down the hall, your mind is still stuck on him.
this isn’t what i signed up for… but then again, maybe it was.
—
the following night is unusually still, and you lie awake, mind tangled in the events of the past week. your thoughts keep drifting back to him—the kiss, the way he pulled away, and the uncertainty that followed. you toss and turn, trying to shake off the feeling, but it’s like something’s pulling you in. just as you start to think you’re finally starting to calm down, a soft knock at your window breaks through the silence.
your heart jumps in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. there’s no mistaking who it is. haechan.
you rush to the window, heart racing, but you pause for a brief moment to glance at your door—your parents are just down the hall. still, curiosity outweighs caution, and you push the blinds up quietly, barely believing your eyes.
there he is, his silhouette framed against the dim streetlights outside, standing on the roof near your window with that familiar, confident smirk that sends a strange rush through you.
“how’d you get up here?” you whisper after opening the window, your voice shaky, heart still pounding in your ears.
he shrugs as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, but you can’t ignore the way his arm strains as he grips the window sill, his veins flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt. your eyes flicker down to his arms, and for a moment, you forget to breathe, your gaze catching on the way the muscles ripple as he pulls himself up with a small thud.
you wince, then immediately shush him, raising a finger to your lips in an exaggerated, playful gesture. “my parents are gonna hear you!”
he flashes that trademark grin, but it’s softer this time—almost sheepish, like he wasn’t expecting this much resistance. “sorry,” he whispers, giving you a quick, apologetic wink before pulling himself through the window with a bit more flair than necessary. you can feel the heat radiating off him as he steps inside, and for a brief second, you both just stand there in the quiet of the room.
there’s an awkward pause as he dusts himself off, glancing around your room as if trying to find a reason for being here, but then his eyes land on you. his expression softens just a little, that familiar cockiness fading away for a second.
“didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but… figured i’d take a risk. can’t sleep, you know?”
you laugh softly, a little nervously, though you can’t quite explain why. there’s something about him being here, standing in your room in the dead of night, that’s thrilling in a way you’re not ready to admit. “did you…climb the tree?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“yeah,” he grins, his tone light, almost teasing. “it’s not that hard. plus, i thought i’d get your attention somehow.” he shrugs as if this is a totally reasonable thing to do. but when his eyes meet yours, there’s something behind them. something vulnerable, something unspoken.
“you’re crazy,” you mutter, but there’s no malice behind it. instead, your voice is soft, fond. you step back instinctively as he moves toward you, not sure if you want to step away or let him close the gap. you should be more concerned that he was here. if your parents found out, you have no idea what kind of reaction they’d have.
he looks at you for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s studying every detail. you can feel the tension building between the two of you, and even though you know you should step back again, you stay rooted to the spot. there’s a pull between you that neither of you can ignore.
“i just… couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about you,” he admits, the words coming out quieter than usual. he doesn’t sound like the usual confident haechan; there’s a vulnerability in his voice now, something raw that you’ve never heard before.
you blink, caught off guard. the air feels thick with unspoken words, and for a second, you’re at a loss for how to respond. your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you move a little closer to him.
his eyes widen slightly when you step forward, but he doesn’t move away. instead, he reaches for your hand slowly, almost hesitantly. his fingers brush over yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. it’s so quiet, so soft, but it feels like the whole world has paused. you glance down at his hand—his fingers are rough, the veins on his arms standing out against his skin.
you look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and he squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, almost intimate motion. there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you, a silent acknowledgment of everything that’s been building between you.
“you’re here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but it feels like it carries the weight of everything you haven’t been able to say.
he gives a small, lopsided grin, his thumb still moving over your hand. “yeah. i guess i am.”
and then, without another word, he leans in, and this time, when your lips meet, it’s not chaotic. it’s slow, deliberate, like the two of you are finally giving in to something you’ve been avoiding. his hand slides up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.
the kiss is soft at first, tentative, but it deepens as the moments stretch on, his other hand moving to gently to him by your back, pulling you closer. everything else fades away. the hesitation, the uncertainty and you lose yourself in it.
when you finally pull back, both of you are breathing a little heavier, the space between you still charged with the emotions neither of you knew how to express. you glance at the door again, your mind briefly flashing to the consequences of this. but for a moment, you don’t care.
“this is… insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly.
he leans his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i know. but i don’t think i can stay away.”
for a moment, you both just stand there, breathless, sharing the same quiet understanding. you’ve crossed a line you never thought you would, and for the first time, you’re not sure what comes next. but you know this: you can’t go back. not now.
—
after that night, everything changes. things between you and haechan aren’t just charged—they’re different. there’s no more pretending that what happened didn’t mean something.
friday the 15th
the next day at school, he’s there—leaning against his locker like usual, surrounded by his close group of friends, but his eyes are on you the second you walk in. it’s not just a glance this time. it’s intentional, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look at him, if you’ll acknowledge what happened between you the night before.
your heart races, but you force yourself to act normal. your parents had been none the wiser about his late-night visit, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still thinking about it. thinking about him. you take a deep breath and head toward your first class, but just as you pass him, his fingers catch your wrist. it’s subtle, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“you’re not gonna ignore me now, are you?” his voice is low, teasing, but there’s something real underneath it.
“not here,” you murmur, pulling your hand away, your face heating up as you disappear into the crowd.
you glance around—people are watching. of course they are. it was unusual for a student like and a student like him to interact. let alone lee haechan and you.
but you can feel his gaze on you for the rest of the day.
after school -
he catches up to you before you can leave, cutting you off near the entrance. “so, sunshine, are we gonna talk about last night? or are you just gonna pretend i didn’t climb a damn tree for you?”
you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you could’ve fallen.”
“but i didn’t,” he grins, stepping closer, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “what, you worried about me?”
you are, but you won’t admit that. you sigh. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”
his smirk fades just slightly, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “say it wasn’t nothing.”
you hesitate, because you can’t say that. you won’t lie. but you also don’t know what this is.
before you can respond, a voice calls your name from behind. one of your classmates. someone who shouldn’t be seeing you with him like this.
“i have to go,” you say quickly, stepping away.
he doesn’t stop you, but as you walk away, you hear him call out, just loud enough for you to hear—
“i’ll see you later, sunshine.”
and you know you will.
saturday night -
you get a text from him.
haechan: come outside
your heart leaps into your throat. you glance at your bedroom door, listening carefully. your parents are still awake. sneaking out has never been something you’ve even considered before, but now…
your fingers hover over your phone.
you: are you insane?
haechan: probably. but i wanna see you.
you hesitate. but only for a second.
and then, for the first time, you take the risk.
—
the door clicks softly behind you as you step onto the porch, the night air brushing cool against your skin. you shiver slightly, but you ignore it, your pulse already picking up when you spot haechan waiting just beyond the porch light’s glow, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.
he steps forward as you approach, but then—he stops.
his eyes flicker down, lingering.
you suddenly realize what you’re wearing—silk shorts, the kind with delicate lace at the hem, barely brushing mid-thigh. paired with a thin, loose sweater, it’s nothing that scandalous, but under his gaze, you feel the heat creeping up your neck.
his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he exhales, tilting his head. “damn, sunshine. if i knew sneaking into your thoughts at night got me this kind of welcome, i would’ve done it sooner.”
you cross your arms, giving him an unimpressed look despite the warmth spreading in your chest. “i wasn’t exactly expecting company.”
he hums, taking another step closer. “yeah? so you just wear this to bed every night?” his voice dips lower, teasing, but there’s something else there.
you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach tightens. “are you done staring?”
his smirk deepens. “not even close.”
“why are you even here?” you sigh, trying to steer the conversation before you combust under his gaze.
his expression shifts slightly, something more serious flickering beneath the teasing. “couldn’t sleep.” he shrugs, eyes still on you but softer now. “kept thinking about you.”
your breath hitches. you weren’t expecting that.
you hesitate, shifting on your feet. “and what exactly were you thinking about?”
he doesn’t hesitate. “that kiss. both of them.”
you inhale sharply, your heart picking up speed.
he watches you carefully, stepping just close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “tell me i’m the only one who’s been losing sleep over it,” he murmurs. “tell me you don’t think about it too.”
you should brush it off. should laugh, roll your eyes, push him away like you always do.
but you don’t.
“…maybe a little.”
his lips quirk, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk—it’s softer. more real.
“thought so.”
before you can even react, his fingers find yours, brushing over your knuckles before lacing them together. it’s slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to pull away.
you don’t.
he exhales a quiet laugh. “you’re in trouble, sunshine.”
you swallow. “why?”
his thumb traces over the back of your hand, and when he looks at you, there’s something almost fond in his eyes.
“’cause now that i’ve got you like this,” he murmurs, “i don’t think i can let go.”
—
you should go back inside. your parents are asleep just down the hall, and this is the kind of thing they warned you about. sneaking out into the night with a boy like him, hand in hand, heart racing in ways it shouldn’t.
but you don’t let go.
“come on,” he says, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s afraid you might change your mind. “let’s go somewhere.”
“what? where?” you ask, but you’re already following him down the steps, his hand warm against yours.
he smirks, eyes glinting in the dim light. “trust me.”
and for some reason, you do.
—
the night air is crisp, cool against your skin as the two of you walk through the quiet streets. neither of you say much at first, just the soft scuff of your footsteps on the pavement, the occasional flickering of a streetlight overhead. it’s reckless, it’s stupid, but for some reason, it feels right.
he leads you toward a small park a few blocks away, one you haven’t been to in years. it looks different at night—emptier, quieter, like a hidden world that only the two of you know about.
“seriously?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “you dragged me out of bed for a playground?”
haechan grins, tugging you toward the swings. “come on, sunshine. live a little.”
you huff, but you sit anyway, the chains creaking slightly as you lean back. he takes the swing next to yours, feet planted on the ground, arms draped lazily over the chains.
for a moment, neither of you speak. the city hums softly in the distance, a car passing now and then, but here, in this little forgotten space, it feels like you’re in your own world.
then he breaks the silence.
“so,” he says, voice quieter now. “are you gonna tell me why you kissed me back?”
your fingers tighten around the swing’s chains.
you should lie. should brush it off, make a joke, something.
but instead, you glance at him, finding him already watching you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight.
“…i don’t know,” you admit.
he exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “wrong answer, sunshine.”
you frown. “oh? and what’s the right one?”
he leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him even in the cool night air. his voice drops, teasing but serious all at once.
“that you can’t get me out of your head, either.”
your breath catches.
you could argue. you could deny it. but instead, you just look at him, your heart pounding, and realize—maybe you don’t want to.
—
the morning after sneaking out with haechan, everything feels different.
your room is the same, the sun filtering through your curtains, casting warm streaks of light across your sheets. your parents are in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast drifting down the hall like any other saturday morning. nothing has changed.
except it has.
because your mind won’t stop replaying the night before. his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you under the dim glow of the streetlights, with that same dark eyeliner you’ve grown to like. the way he leaned in just close enough that you thought he might kiss you again but never did. the way your heart had pounded the entire walk back home, fingers still tingling from where he had held them, warm and steady.
and the worst part?
you didn’t want it to end.
you go through the day pretending everything is normal.
you do your chores, respond to messages, attempt to start your homework—but it all feels distant, like your mind is somewhere else entirely. every time your phone lights up, you half expect it to be him. but it never is.
and then, just when you think you might be going crazy, your mom’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“you’ve been distracted all morning.”
you blink, looking up from your untouched notebook at the kitchen table. your parents are sitting across from you, your dad flipping through the newspaper, your mom watching you with knowing eyes.
“i’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.
she hums, not convinced. “it’s not about that boy, is it?”
your heart stops. “what?”
your dad turns a page in the newspaper, not looking up. “the one you’ve been tutoring,” he says simply. “you know, the one we told you to be careful around.”
your pulse stutters. “it’s—no, of course not.”
your mom raises an eyebrow. “really? because ever since those sessions started, you’ve been acting a little… different.”
“and now you’re all spaced out,” your dad adds, still not looking up. “not getting a crush on him, are you?”
you scoff, forcing out a laugh that sounds almost believable. “as if.”
your mom exhales, satisfied for now. “good. boys like that, they’re nothing but trouble.”
your chest tightens. they don’t know anything. “so you’ve told me.” you sigh.
but instead of arguing, you just nod, mumbling something about needing to study before quickly escaping back to your room.
and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, your phone finally buzzes.
haechan: you up, sunshine?
you hesitate for half a second, holding back the small tug at your lips before responding.
you: yeah, why?
his reply comes instantly.
haechan: meet me? same spot.
your heart skips. you don’t even hesitate.
you: be there in 10.
—
the air feels heavier, like the wind is carrying something unspoken between you. you spot him before he sees you—leaning against the swing set, hoodie pulled over his head, one hand twisting a silver ring around his finger. he looks lost in thought, gaze fixed on the ground until he hears your footsteps.
his head lifts, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into a smirk—lazy, like he knew you’d come.
“thought maybe you wouldn’t show,” he says, rocking back on his heels.
you cross your arms, standing a few steps away. “why?”
he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “figured maybe you started listening to your parents.”
you raise a brow. “you’re eavesdropping now?”
nah,” he says easily, stepping closer. “just know how people see me.”
you don’t respond. instead, you take a step closer, letting the silence settle between you.
“so,” you say after a beat, “why’d you call me out here?”
he exhales, tilting his head as he watches you. “needed to see you.”
the words come so easily, like he didn’t even have to think about them. like it was the most natural thing in the world.
your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression even. “and now that you have?”
he grins, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “now?” his voice drops lower, eyes flickering over your face. “now i wanna know why you came.”
you swallow. why did you?
you should have ignored his message, should have listened to every warning sign telling you to stay away.
but standing here, heart pounding, heat rolling off him in waves—
you realize you don’t regret a damn thing.
“i wanted to see you too.” you say lowly.
—
after that night, something shifts.
it starts slow—an unspoken understanding, a magnetic pull that neither of you acknowledge but never fight.
one night turns into another. and then another.
sometimes, he climbs through your window just to talk, arms crossed against your windowsill, voice hushed as he tells you about his day. other times, he doesn’t talk at all, just pulls you close and kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.
and maybe you should be afraid too—afraid of how easy it is to let this happen, to want more. but you’re not.
—
you find yourself around him more at school, too.
it’s not obvious, not at first—just stolen glances across the hallway, his shoulder brushing yours when he passes by, the flicker of a smirk when he catches you looking.
but then he starts waiting for you after class, hands stuffed in his pockets, always acting like he just happened to be there. like it wasn’t intentional.
and you let him.
because somehow, being near him feels natural now. even with the tutoring sessions over. he seemed to be doing pretty well in science now anyway.
—
the nights are different. the nights are yours.
sneaking out is reckless, dangerous, a risk you wouldn’t have taken before. but now? now it’s routine.
sometimes, you meet at the park, swinging lazily under the glow of the streetlights. sometimes, he drags you into the city, leading you through neon-lit streets, hands brushing in the dark.
and sometimes—most nights, actually—he’s at your window.
it always starts the same way: a faint rustling, the quiet scrape of sneakers against bark, and then, moments later, his head poking through the window frame with a grin.
“you’ve got to stop leaving this unlocked, sunshine,” he teases, even though you both know you won’t.
and every time, without fail, you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him when he pulls himself inside, muscles flexing, veins prominent under his skin as he steadies himself.
the first few times, you told yourself this was temporary—just a phase, just him being him.
but then there’s a night where he doesn’t just talk, doesn’t just steal a few kisses before leaving.
there’s a night where he lingers.
where his hands settle on your waist, where he backs you up against your wall, where the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.
where he kisses you deeper, hands tracing slow patterns against your skin, like he’s memorizing you.
where you let him.
because at some point, you stopped trying to fight this. stopped trying to pretend you didn’t want it.
because at some point, you stopped caring that he was the kind of boy your parents warned you about.
—
it was one of the nights he had skipped into your room, you greeted him with a smile and things went from there.
his breath is warm against your lips, hands gripping your waist as he backs you into the wall.
he’s been teasing all night—touching you just enough to leave you wanting more, murmuring things in that low, rough voice that made your pulse stutter. but now? now there’s no space left between you, and neither of you are trying to fight it.
his fingers press into your sides, slow and steady, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take. his lips brush yours once, twice—just enough to make you chase him before he finally kisses you like he means it.
and you let yourself fall into it.
your hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, tugging just enough to draw a quiet groan from his throat. his body presses closer, chest rising and falling against yours, the heat between you dizzying.
“you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick, almost strained.
you don’t even get the chance to answer before he kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s losing whatever little patience he had left.
his hands slip under your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers up your spine. and you should stop this, should put some distance between you before it’s too late—
but then his hands tighten on your hips, and you feel the way his heart is racing just as fast as yours, and god—
you don’t want to stop.
“tell me to leave,” he murmurs, lips trailing along your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat.
you swallow hard, tilting your head back as he presses closer, as his hands continue their slow exploration.
“tell me you don’t want this,” he says again, but there’s no teasing in his voice this time—just something raw, something vulnerable, something almost pleading.
and you should. you should.
instead, your grip tightens in his hair, and you whisper back, “i don’t want you to.”
his response is immediate—his hands slide lower, pulling you flush against him, and he groans against your lips like he’s just lost whatever last shred of control he had.
“fuck,” he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “you’re really gonna be the end of me, sunshine.”
but he doesn’t stop.
and neither do you.
—
when you finally pull your mouth from his, his lips are swollen, breath uneven as he leans into you, hands still firm on your waist like he can’t bring himself to let go just yet.
you don’t want him to.
but somewhere between the heat of his touch and the way his body presses against yours, reality creeps back in.
your parents are just down the hall.
he shouldn’t even be here.
“we should stop,” you murmur, though the words barely make it out, still breathless from the way he just kissed you.
he exhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he tilts his head back to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, jaw tight like he’s forcing himself to pull back.
“yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “yeah, we should.”
but neither of you move.
his thumb brushes against your side, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.
“sunshine,” he says softly, like a warning.
you know you have to let him go.
but when he leans in one last time, mouth hovering just over yours, you don’t stop him.
“just one more?” he murmurs, but it’s a lie.
one more turns into two, then three, then a lingering kiss pressed to the corner of your lips, like he’s reluctant to leave you at all.
but eventually, he does.
he steps back first, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s trying to pull himself together before he does something you’ll both regret.
“guess i should go before i completely fuck this up, huh?” he says, forcing a smirk, but you see the hesitation in his eyes.
you nod, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything.
he moves toward the window, but just before climbing out, he looks back, gaze flickering over you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers are still trembling just slightly.
and then, instead of saying goodbye, he just grins.
“try not to miss me too much,” he teases, but there’s something softer beneath the words. something real.
and with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there at all.
except—he was.
you press your fingers against your lips, as if you can still feel him there, and then, you smile.
it’s embarrassing, the way your stomach flutters, the way your cheeks heat up, the way you actually giggle like some lovesick schoolgirl.
you should not be this giddy over a boy like him.
but you are.
and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore.
—
it was another saturday night, around 12am, your parents long gone to bed.
his hands are warm against your skin, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer.
you’re not even thinking anymore—just moving, just feeling. stumbling over your own feet as he walks you back, laughing quietly when you almost trip over a pile of books.
“shh,” you whisper, barely suppressing a giggle.
he grins against your lips. “that was you.”
“doesn’t matter,” you breathe, fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath the fabric. “just be quiet.”
he hums in amusement, hands sliding up your sides, his touch slow, deliberate, testing. “you always tell me what to do, sunshine?”
“someone has to.”
“mm,” he leans in, lips brushing your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric up just slightly—waiting for permission.
you exhale, whispering a word of approval.
he doesn’t hesitate. he tugs your shirt up, just enough to expose more of your skin—
knock.
the door swings open.
“what are you doing—?”
you freeze.
haechan freezes.
your mom stands in the doorway, eyes locking onto the scene in front of her—haechan’s hands still on you, his hoodie discarded on the floor, your shirt lifted just enough to make it painfully obvious what was happening.
for a second, no one moves.
no one breathes.
haechan is the first to react, stepping back so fast he almost knocks over your chair. he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to play it cool, like there’s any coming back from this.
you don’t dare turn around.
your heart pounds in your chest, face burning hotter than ever before. this time not with the same heat.
your mom inhales sharply, voice eerily calm.
“downstairs. now.”
the finality in her tone sends a chill down your spine.
haechan glances at you, expression unreadable, but you can’t look at him.
because this time, you’re really in trouble.
—
▸ j.note ; finally releasing this lmao it’s been in the sm basement for quite some time now
✿⃘ֹ #1: meandom!haechan who's still weak for his gf - @hyuckmov
✿⃘ֹ Touch me - @byuntrash101 (with lots of love and patience haechan was able to heal your soul. with him it feels right and you are ready to take the next big leap)
✿⃘ֹ she’s quiet (s,f) - @ijuliet (although you were not looking to make new friends, the ones you had tried their hardest to push you out of your comfort zone to find something abnormal for you. which is why you’re at a frat party on a thursday night, watching as lee donghyuck observes you from afar.)
✿⃘ֹ falling in love with haechan - @ooshu
✿⃘ֹ stalker!haechan x fem!reader - @neocentral
✿⃘ֹ flustered by you - @lelengerine (your boyfriend surely knows how to make you flustered, even when he’s the one who should be.)
✿⃘ֹ Danger - @daegall (however, on one particular day, the epitome of 'danger’ shows up to your doorstep and is asking you on a date. you recognized this certain person as lee haechan, one of your art classmate, renjun’s, best buddies.)
✿⃘ֹ getting even | lee haechan (P1) - @ofjunemoment (Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.)
✿⃘ֹ double dog dare - @waithyuck (your best friends renjun and jeno decide that it would be funny to dare you to sit on the lap of your long time crush, lee donghyuck, during a college party.)
✿⃘ֹ ⇢ haechan as your boyfriend - @justalildumpling
✿⃘ֹ THE ONLY EXCEPTION - @jaylaxies (mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.)
✿⃘ֹ body language [l.dh] - @badalivie (You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.)
✿⃘ֹ pancakes for two - @pearlesscentt (haechan x reader, college!au)
✿⃘ֹ ❛NICE GUY❜ ( l. haechan ) - @luvyeni (in the midst of your stalker running lose you trust haechan , he seems like nice guy)
✿⃘ֹ all is fair in love and war - @lonelyharmonies (when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.)
✿⃘ֹ spur of the moment (ldh) - @haetrack
✿⃘ֹ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader - @yrqrnc (wherein, it’s a late afternoon and you’re watching your favorite series with your dearest boyfriend as you cuddle on the couch, but it seems that it’s physically impossible for you to keep your attention fixed on the large monitor in front of you, and not him.)
✿⃘ֹ impulse - @nctsworld (saying i love you for the first time during the heat of the moment doesn’t really count... right?)
✿⃘ֹ home is a feeling | lee donghyuck - @neonun-au (Fresh off a break-up, not willing to stomach spending Christmas single with your family, you book a last minute trip overseas to escape the impending loneliness, not realizing that perhaps running away from your feelings will only serve to intensify them. You arrive at your home-away-from-home only to find you’re not the only one staying there. Through some unfortunate (or not so unfortunate) mistake, the AirBnB you booked has also been booked by a handsome young man looking for a similar escape from his own life. Now you have to choose whether or not to stay and spend your Christmas with a stranger or scramble to find a lonely hotel room last minute over the holidays.)
✿⃘ֹ corny stuck under the bed scenario - @sherwees
✿⃘ֹ indica dreams | ldh - @hazyhae (when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it.)
✿⃘ֹ ( 📁 twenty minutes. by lee haechan ＿ ⭐ O1O1 ) - @lavandiors (where haechan finds you in the practice room and can't help but want you all to himself.)
✿⃘ֹ ⎯ sweet nothings… - @foolsunz (you’re going to be the death of him, he knows it.)"
Hyuck gets into a skiing accident and forgets about a year of his life, including his breakup with y/n. When he wakes up, everyone pretends they're still together for his sake but things aren't as easy as they seem
Eight months ago, Donghyuck had ended a four–year relationship with Y/N.
He hadn’t stopped loving her — that was the problem. His career had grown louder, faster, more demanding, and every time he looked at her, he saw someone shrinking to fit around his schedule. Late nights, missed anniversaries, phone calls cut short. He told himself breaking up was the kinder choice.
Then, one skiing accident erased the past year of his life.
When Donghyuck woke up in a hospital bed with a pounding head and unfamiliar machines beeping around him, the first thing he asked was a name.
“Where’s Y/N?”
His mother froze. His father looked up sharply from the chair beside the bed.
“Hyuck,” his mother said carefully, forcing a smile, “you’ve been in an accident. You need to rest.”
Donghyuck frowned. “I am resting. But where is she? She should be here by now.”
His father stood. “We’ll be right back,” he said quickly, already guiding the doctor out of the room.
The hallway felt too quiet.
“He remembers up to a year ago,” the doctor said after reviewing the chart. “Everything before the accident is intact. Anything after is… gone.”
His mother pressed a hand to her mouth. “That means he thinks—”
“That he and Y/N are still together,” his father finished gently.
His father ran a hand through his hair. “We can’t tell him. Not right now.”
The doctor hesitated. “Emotional shock can seriously interfere with recovery, especially with head trauma.”
His mother nodded desperately. “They were together for four years. He adored her. If we tell him they broke up—because of him—”
“He’ll spiral,” his father said quietly.
The doctor sighed. “If you’re asking my opinion… it might be best to maintain his perceived reality for now. Until his memory stabilizes.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, his mother said, “We need to call her.”
Y/N almost dropped her phone when she saw Donghyuck’s mother’s name flash on the screen.
“Hello?”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end. “Y/N… there’s been an accident.”
That was all it took.
She arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes later, hair still damp from the shower she’d abandoned, coat half-zipped, breath uneven. Donghyuck’s parents met her in the hallway before she could even ask where he was.
“He’s awake,” his father said quickly. “But—please, listen to us first.”
They sat her down in a quiet consultation room. The words came out haltingly at first, then all at once.
“He lost a year of memories.”
“He thinks you’re still together.”
“He keeps asking for you.”
Y/N stared at them, numb. “What?”
His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “He doesn’t remember breaking up with you. To him, everything is perfect.”
“We’re not asking forever,” his father interrupted, voice breaking. “Just for now. Until he heals. The doctor says emotional distress could slow his recovery.”
His mother reached for Y/N’s hands, clutching them tightly. “Please. He woke up scared, and all he wants is you.”
Y/N pulled her hands back, pacing the room. “He broke up with me,” she said quietly. “He decided we were better off apart.”
“And we know how much that hurt you,” his mother whispered. “But right now… he’s our son. And he’s fragile.”
Silence stretched between them.
Y/N stopped pacing. She thought of Donghyuck’s laugh, his crooked smile, the way he used to reach for her in his sleep. She thought of the phone calls that stopped coming. The goodbye she never got to argue against.
And now, him waking up believing she was still his safe place.
Her voice came out small. “What if he remembers?”
The doctor spoke gently. “Then we’ll tell him the truth. This isn’t meant to deceive him forever.”
Y/N closed her eyes.
“…Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll do it. For now.”
His mother broke down immediately, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
His father joined them, his voice rough. “We owe you more than we can say.”
Y/N hugged them back, even as her heart ached.
Because walking into that room meant pretending she’d never been left — and loving someone who didn’t remember letting her go.
When Y/N finally stepped into the hospital room, Donghyuck’s head snapped toward the door instantly.
“There you are.”
Relief washed over his face so openly it almost hurt to look at. He tried to sit up, muscles tensing as he pushed against the mattress.
“Hey—” Y/N hurried forward, placing her hands on his shoulders. “No, don’t do that. You need to rest.”
He frowned at her, clearly unconvinced. “I’m fine. I just—” He reached for her, fingers curling around her wrist, tugging gently but insistently. “Come here. Sit with me.”
She hesitated for half a second before giving in, letting him pull her down beside the bed. The moment she sat, he relaxed, like something essential had finally been put back where it belonged.
“You scared me,” he said quietly. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”
Her throat tightened. “I’m here now.”
He lifted her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I missed you.”
The words landed heavier than he could possibly know.
She swallowed. “…I missed you too.”
Donghyuck studied her face, concern flickering through his eyes. “Are you okay? You look tired.”
“I’m okay,” she replied, forcing a small smile. “What about you? Does anything hurt? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Just… stay. Like this.”
She nodded, lifting her free hand to his hair. Her fingers moved through it slowly, carefully, the same way she used to after long nights when he came home exhausted and overstimulated, shoulders tense from the weight of everything he carried.
His eyelids fluttered almost immediately.
“Oh,” he murmured, surprised. “That feels so good.”
Her chest ached.
“Of course it does,” she whispered.
His breathing gradually evened out, grip on her hand loosening as sleep pulled him under. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, cheek tilted toward her palm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Y/N exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping.
She stared at him — peaceful, unaware, safe in a reality that no longer existed — and gently rested her forehead against the edge of the bed.
“This is going to be so hard,” she whispered to no one.
But she didn’t move her hand away.
--------------------
The doctors cleared Donghyuck to rest at home instead of staying overnight, with strict instructions.
“No work. No schedules. No pressure,” the doctor said firmly. “At least a few months. Your brain needs time.”
Donghyuck groaned. “I’m going to go insane.”
Y/N smiled politely, hand resting lightly on his arm. “You’ll survive.”
He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. “As long as you’re there.”
The drive to his place was quiet, broken only by him humming softly to whatever song played on the radio. Y/N watched the city pass by the window, nerves twisting tighter the closer they got.
When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiarity hit her all at once.
Nothing had changed.
She froze just inside the entryway, eyes drifting toward his gaming desk. Her breath caught when she saw it — a framed photo of the two of them, smiling at the camera, her head resting on his shoulder. Another one sat on the living room shelf, slightly crooked, like it had been adjusted often.
She blinked, stunned.
She’d been so sure he would’ve put them away by now.
Donghyuck kicked off his shoes and stretched. “Feels good to be home.”
He turned to her, noticing her still standing there. “What? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing herself to move. “Just… tired.”
He studied her for a second, then grinned. “Nap with me.”
Her heart skipped. “You need to shower first.”
He sighed dramatically. “You’re so bossy.”
Still, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before heading toward the bedroom. “Don’t disappear.”
“I won’t,” she murmured.
He emerged a moment later with clean clothes in his hands, frowning slightly. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
He gestured vaguely toward the bedroom. “Why is your side of the bedside table empty? And your toothbrush isn’t in the bathroom.”
Her pulse spiked.
She scrambled for the first explanation that sounded believable. “Oh—uh. I’m in the middle of switching stuff out. It’s been a while since I replaced some things, so I didn’t bring everything yet.”
Donghyuck hummed, unconcerned. “Okay.”
He shrugged, already distracted, and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of the shower starting made her shoulders sag in relief.
She didn’t waste a second.
Y/N picked up his phone from the counter. Her fingers hovered for a moment before unlocking it.
The password was the same.
Her chest tightened at that.
She opened their message thread — empty for months, a gap that screamed the truth she wasn’t allowed to tell. Quickly, she typed a few harmless messages from earlier dates.
Did you eat yet?
Don’t stay up too late.
I’ll see you soon ❤️
She sent them to herself, spacing them out just enough to look natural.
Then she opened his camera roll.
Mostly work. Screenshots. A few old photos of them — ones she recognized immediately.
She airdropped a couple recent selfies from her phone into his gallery, making sure they blended in. Nothing too obvious. Just enough to erase suspicion.
By the time the shower shut off, her hands were shaking.
She placed his phone back exactly where it had been and took a steadying breath.
This was only temporary, she reminded herself.
But as Donghyuck emerged, hair damp and smile easy, already reaching for her like everything was still the same, Y/N knew—
Temporary was going to hurt the most.
Y/N sat on the opposite end of the couch, clipboard of discharge papers folded neatly in her hands.
“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat, slipping into a tone that tried very hard to sound calm and not terrified. “Doctor’s rules.”
Donghyuck groaned immediately, slumping back. “I hate rules.”
“You’re going to hate these,” she replied dryly. “First — screen time is limited. Max three hours a day.”
His head snapped up. “Three?!”
“And it has to be spaced out,” she added. “You can slowly increase it over time if you don’t get headaches or dizziness.”
He stared at her like she’d personally betrayed him.
“Reading is encouraged,” she continued, flipping a page. “Physical books, not on a tablet.”
He sighed dramatically. “This is torture.”
“You also have to be really careful in the shower. No rushing, no locking the door, and you sit down if you feel even a little dizzy.”
“Yes, mom,” he muttered.
“And you have to take your meds. No skipping.”
“I won’t,” he said, softer now.
She hesitated, then added, “No strenuous physical activity.”
Donghyuck’s lips curled into a slow grin. “What about in bed?”
Her face flushed instantly. “Yes — even in bed.”
He laughed, delighted. “Wow. You’re serious.”
She crossed her arms. “Very.”
He tilted his head. “Okay, but what about… other stuff?”
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hyuck, it’s all off the table, okay? This is now a PG-13 household.”
He folded his arms, pouting like a sulky kid. “This is the worst recovery plan ever.”
“You’ll live,” she said, though she was smiling.
She continued down the list. “You can’t drive. No gym. No rehearsals. No group activities until you’re cleared.”
His expression shifted then — the teasing drained away, shoulders sagging.
She noticed immediately. “Hey,” she said gently. “What’s wrong?”
He stared down at his hands. “I feel stupid,” he admitted quietly. “I got into an accident, my career’s on hold, I’m suspended from group stuff… it just feels selfish. Like everyone has to stop because of me.”
Her chest tightened.
“You didn’t choose this,” she said firmly. “It’s not your fault. You don’t owe anyone your health.”
He glanced at her, eyes soft but sad. Then he frowned slightly. “You’re sitting really far away.”
She smiled.
Without another word, she crossed the space between them and sat down on his lap. His arms came around her instantly, like it was instinct, like he’d been waiting for it.
“There,” she said softly.
He relaxed against her, murmuring, “That’s better.”
His lips brushed her clavicle in a light, absent kiss, nothing more than comfort. He closed his eyes, forehead resting against her shoulder, breathing evening out.
Y/N wrapped her arms around him, heart heavy but steady.
This was the hardest part — being close, being familiar, pretending everything was still okay.
And doing it anyway.
--------------
Donghyuck fell asleep without realizing it.
One moment he was breathing slowly against her shoulder, arms loose around her waist, and the next his weight settled fully into her, head resting against her chest like it had a hundred times before. His breaths evened out, warm and familiar, the soft rise and fall pressing into her ribs.
Y/N didn’t move.
She should have. She knew she should have.
But she didn’t.
A sharp, guilty thought settled in her chest — this feels too good.
She’d missed this. God, she’d missed this more than she’d ever admitted. The quiet closeness, the way he fit against her like it was natural, the comfort of being needed without having to ask.
Without him, the past eight months had been hollow. Heavy. She’d moved through her days feeling lost, hurt, and unbearably alone, pretending she was fine while everything inside her felt misplaced.
And she was still angry.
Angry that he’d decided for both of them. That he’d broken her heart gently, carefully, without ever giving her the chance to fight for them. Angry that he’d walked away while she’d been left carrying all the love with nowhere to put it.
Yet here she was.
Because despite everything, she still cared. Deeply. Desperately.
His health mattered more than her pride, more than her pain. And she would do anything — anything — to make sure he healed safely.
Y/N lowered her gaze to him, fingers moving through his hair in slow, familiar strokes. His face was relaxed in sleep, lashes casting faint shadows, expression soft in a way she hadn’t seen in so long.
She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
“This is the last thing,” she whispered silently to herself. “The very last thing I’ll ever do for Lee Donghyuck.”
Her chest tightened as she made the promise.
As soon as he remembered — as soon as the truth came back — she would be gone. No explanations. No lingering. No reopening wounds that had already scarred over.
For now, though…
She held him.
She let herself enjoy the weight of him in her arms, his head warm against her chest as he slept in her lap. She stroked his hair, kissed his head again, mourning a life she once knew — a love that still existed, even if only in fragments.
And she stayed very still, afraid that if she moved, it would all disappear.
----------------
A few days passed, and Y/N slipped back into their old routine like muscle memory.
It scared her how easy it was.
Donghyuck slept in now, no alarms, no frantic mornings rushing out the door. She insisted on it every time he tried to wake early, gently pushing him back into the pillows.
“You need rest,” she’d say firmly. “Work isn’t going anywhere.”
So she became the one in the kitchen each morning.
His parents called daily. Sometimes twice. Y/N updated them carefully — no headaches today, he ate well, he’d taken his meds. Each time, there was a pause before his mother quietly said, “Thank you. Again.”
Y/N never knew what to say back.
This morning, she was standing at the stove, eggs sizzling softly in the pan, when she felt warmth behind her.
Lazy footsteps. Familiar ones.
Donghyuck wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, cheek pressing into her shoulder as if it was instinct. He kissed the side of her neck, then her cheek, slow and affectionate.
“Morning,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Y/N bit her lip, forcing herself to relax instead of stiffening. This is normal, she reminded herself. You have to let this be normal.
She turned slightly, lifting a hand to rest over his arm. “Morning. You should still be sleeping.”
He smiled against her skin. “Couldn’t. Smelled food.”
She laughed softly, a sound that surprised even her.
When breakfast was done, Donghyuck settled at the coffee table, shirtless, legs crossed comfortably as he read. His glasses sat low on his nose, hair sticking up messily from sleep, sunlight catching on his skin in a way that made her chest ache.
Y/N leaned against the counter, watching him for just a second too long.
This was everything she used to love.
This was home.
And it wasn’t real anymore.
She exhaled slowly, turning back to the stove before the weight of it crushed her. Because as perfect as it looked — as peaceful as it felt — it was all built on borrowed time and a truth waiting to resurface.
An illusion she was living inside.
And one day soon, it would shatter.
“I need to do groceries,” Y/N said casually, rinsing the pan in the sink.
Donghyuck looked up from the couch immediately. “I’ll come with you.”
She hesitated. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said simply, already reaching for his hoodie.
She didn’t argue.
Y/N drove, hands steady on the wheel, while Donghyuck sat in the passenger seat humming softly under his breath. It took her a moment to recognize the tune.
She glanced at him. “Is that an EXO song?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. It’s stuck in my head.”
Without saying anything, she connected her phone and pulled up an EXO playlist, pressing play. The music filled the car, familiar and warm.
Donghyuck’s smile widened. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You always know.”
Her chest tightened, but she smiled anyway.
They parked at the Lotte Department Store grocery level, the automatic doors sliding open to cool air and quiet chatter. Donghyuck took the cart from her immediately, hands firm on the handle as he pushed it slowly down the first aisle.
They moved unhurriedly.
Rice. Vegetables. Pantry staples. Donghyuck paused often, squinting at labels like he was on a mission, glasses slipping slightly down his nose. Y/N didn’t rush him. She just walked beside him, enjoying the absurd normalcy of it all.
At one point, she noticed him quietly tossing her favorite sweets into the cart. Then fruit she loved. He didn’t ask. Didn’t comment.
He just knew.
Her heart swelled painfully.
“Hyuck,” she started, but stopped herself.
He glanced at her. “What?”
“…Nothing.”
He went back to pushing the cart.
They stopped near the refrigerated section, Donghyuck still reading ingredients thoughtfully.
“What can I cook for you, baby?” he asked, eyes still on the shelves.
The word hit her softly but deeply.
She loved when he called her that. Always had.
“Anything you want,” she said, smiling at him. “I love everything you make.”
He hummed, pretending to deliberate for a moment longer before nodding decisively.
“Kimchi jjigae it is.”
Y/N laughed, light and genuine. “I knew you’d say that.”
Donghyuck grinned, nudging the cart forward again.
And for just a little while longer, they let the world believe they were exactly where they belonged.
The checkout line moved quickly.
Y/N reached for her bag out of habit, fingers just brushing the strap when a soft beep sounded first. She looked up to see Donghyuck already tapping his card against the reader, completely unbothered.
“Baby,” he said with a small laugh, grabbing the receipt, “why do you even try? You know I’m never gonna let you pay.”
She rolled her eyes, lips twitching despite herself. “You’re impossible.”
“And proud,” he replied, already lifting the grocery bags like they weighed nothing. “Stay there.”
She watched him walk ahead, shoulders relaxed, familiar confidence in every step. He’d always been like this — stubborn, protective, quietly insistent on taking care of things even when she didn’t ask.
Some things never changed.
They got into the car, Donghyuck immediately scrolling through the music. This time, upbeat 127 tracks filled the space. He turned it up and started singing along without shame, hitting the high notes with dramatic flair.
Y/N leaned back in her seat, smiling softly, listening.
During the breakup, she’d tried so hard to avoid anything that reminded her of him. Deleted playlists. Skipped songs. Changed stations. But late at night, when everything felt too quiet, she’d give in.
She’d listen to his music.
Especially his solo album.
Just to hear his voice.
She sighed before she could stop herself.
Donghyuck glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nothing. I just… missed hearing you sing like this.”
His smile turned slow and teasing. “You know you can get a private concert from me anytime you want.”
He reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
Her heart stuttered.
Without thinking, she turned his hand over and kissed it back, soft and brief. When she looked up at him again, he was beaming — bright, open, completely unaware of the ache blooming in her chest.
She faced the road again, fingers still laced with his.
And let herself enjoy the sound of his voice a little longer.
---------------
They unpacked the groceries together, moving around each other with practiced ease.
Y/N stacked containers in the fridge while Donghyuck organized the cabinets, humming quietly to himself. It felt automatic — like their bodies remembered the choreography even if everything else was fractured.
He opened the recycling bin and froze.
“…Why are there so many alcohol bottles in here?”
Y/N looked over, wiping her hands on a towel before stepping closer. She peeked inside.
Soju. A lot of it.
“Oh,” she said carefully. “Maybe it just… built up over time?”
But even as she said it, confusion flickered across her face too. Donghyuck didn’t usually drink like this. He liked a casual drink, sure — but this much?
Her eyes caught the labels.
Original flavor.
Her chest tightened.
He only ever drank that when he was stressed. When something was wrong but he didn’t want to talk about it.
Donghyuck shrugged, unconcerned. “Huh. Weird. I’ll empty it later.”
He closed the bin and moved on like it didn’t matter, but Y/N stayed frozen for a second longer, the implication sitting heavy in her chest.
He’d been hurting more than she knew.
He turned back to her, brighter now. “Maybe I can cook tonight and invite Johnny and Mark over or something. Keep things normal.”
Her heart skipped — then sank.
“Yeah,” she said after a beat. “Sure.”
But nerves crept in immediately.
She hadn’t seen them in so long. Not since the breakup. They knew the truth — all of it. They knew Donghyuck had ended things, knew she’d disappeared from their shared spaces, knew how much it had hurt.
And now they’d have to pretend.
Pretend nothing ever broke. Pretend she hadn’t cried herself to sleep for months. Pretend this domestic little bubble wasn’t built on borrowed time and silence.
She knew Donghyuck’s parents had already contacted the members, explained the situation carefully.
He doesn’t remember.
Please don’t tell him yet.
Just act normal.
Y/N swallowed.
Normal was going to be the hardest part.
She looked at Donghyuck as he started pulling ingredients out for dinner, sleeves rolled up, completely at ease.
And she wondered how long they could all keep up the lie before something cracked.
Y/N’s chest felt too tight, thoughts stacking on top of each other until it became hard to breathe.
“I think I’m gonna take a quick nap,” she said quietly, setting her phone down.
Donghyuck looked up immediately. “Are you okay?”
He stood and gently pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, brows knitting together in concern.
She caught his wrist before he could pull away. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Just a bit tired.”
He searched her face for a second, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll wake you when I’m done cooking and when the boys are coming.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
She fell asleep faster than she expected.
When she woke up, the apartment smelled like kimchi and garlic, warm and comforting. Somewhere nearby, Donghyuck was humming under his breath — low and tuneless, the way he always did when he cooked.
She sighed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for her phone. She scrolled aimlessly, then opened a chat with one of her friends.
Coffee soon? I miss you.
She sat up, grounding herself, then walked out to the kitchen.
“Everything looks great,” she said, peeking into the pot.
Donghyuck smiled proudly. “Good timing. Mark and Johnny will be here in ten minutes.”
Her stomach fluttered. “You should shower.”
He glanced down at himself, then laughed. “Yeah, probably.”
“I’ll let them in,” she added quickly.
“Okay,” he said easily, already heading toward the bedroom.
When the doorbell rang, Y/N paused for a breath before opening it.
She didn’t know what she’d expected — awkwardness, maybe hesitation.
Instead, Johnny’s face lit up instantly.
“Y/N!”
Before she could react, he lifted her off the ground in a huge hug. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around him automatically.
“We missed you!” Mark said warmly, pulling her into a hug next.
“It’s so nice to see you both,” she said honestly.
They stepped inside, voices softer now.
“How’s Hyuck?” Mark asked. “Does he remember anything?”
She shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
Johnny’s expression turned gentle. “That must be really hard. Pretending.”
She shrugged lightly. “It is.”
He hesitated, then said, “You didn’t have to cut us off, you know. We became your friends too.”
She smiled sadly. “That’s really nice of you to say. But it didn’t feel right. I never wanted Hyuck to feel like I was imposing on his life when he didn’t want me in it.”
Johnny’s voice softened. “If you ever want to talk about anything — anything at all — I’m here for you.”
Her eyes burned just a little. She nodded. “Thank you.”
Footsteps sounded from the hallway.
Donghyuck walked out, hair still damp from the shower, towel slung over his shoulder. “What’s up, losers?”
Mark grinned. “Good to see you, man.”
Y/N stepped back slightly, heart steadying as the night continued — all of them playing their parts, even as the truth waited quietly between them.
Johnny and Mark settled onto the couch, the atmosphere carefully casual.
“So,” Johnny said, leaning back, “how are you feeling, Hyuck? Really.”
Donghyuck shrugged. “Okay, I think. Head’s still a little weird. Everything feels… slow.”
Mark nodded. “That makes sense. What’s the last thing you remember before the accident?”
Donghyuck went quiet, brows furrowing as he searched his mind. “It’s fuzzy,” he admitted. “But I remember going to the aquarium with Y/N.”
Y/N’s heart skipped.
“That was… a year and two months ago,” she said gently.
His eyes widened. “Seriously? I can’t believe I can’t remember almost a whole year.” He laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to relearn choreo and songs if it doesn’t come back.”
“You won’t,” Mark said quickly. “Your body remembers that stuff.”
“Yeah,” Johnny added. “You’ll be back before you know it.”
Donghyuck nodded, reassured. He stood and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “You can catch me up soon anyway. You keep up with all our comebacks better than we do.”
Her chest tightened, but she smiled.
He turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab the food.”
The second his back was turned, the three of them exchanged a look — heavy, unspoken, full of things they couldn’t say.
Y/N broke the silence quietly. “Your latest song… the one you released three months ago? It was really good.”
Mark smiled. “Thanks.”
Donghyuck glanced back over his shoulder, confused. “Wait — how come you haven’t talked to them about it yet? Three months is kind of a long time.”
She shrugged, keeping her voice light. “It just… hasn’t come up.”
“Hmm,” he said, still watching her for a second longer before turning back to the stove.
Her smile didn’t falter.
Inside, though, her thoughts spiraled.
How many little slip-ups can happen before he notices?
She stared at his back, listening to the soft clink of dishes, wondering how long the illusion could survive before the cracks became impossible to hide.
Dinner ends up warmer than Y/N expected.
Laughter fills the apartment, overlapping voices and easy teasing, the kind that makes time slip by unnoticed. Donghyuck moves comfortably between the stove and the table, plating food with practiced care. At one point, without even looking at her, he cuts her meat into smaller pieces and slides the plate closer.
She freezes for half a second.
Then exhales.
He didn’t even think about it. He just did it — the same way he always used to.
They eat, talk, laugh. For a little while, the tension loosens its grip.
Afterward, they decide to put on a new series everyone’s been talking about. The four of them squeeze onto the couch, Donghyuck settling in the middle. At some point, Y/N’s exhaustion catches up to her. Her head tips against his shoulder, body relaxing before she can stop herself.
She falls asleep there.
The episode ends, and she drifts in and out of consciousness, sounds muffled but familiar.
“She’s been really tired lately,” Donghyuck says quietly.
Y/N doesn’t open her eyes.
“She’s been taking such good care of me,” he continues, voice softer now. “Always double-checking my meds, making sure I follow the doctor’s orders… I can tell she’s stressed. About doing everything right.”
There’s a pause.
“She doesn’t deserve this,” he adds, guilt threading through his words. “I regret getting into that stupid skiing accident.”
Mark speaks first. “Hyuck, it’s not your fault.”
“Yeah,” Johnny agrees. “Stuff like this just… happens sometimes. You don’t need to punish yourself for it.”
Donghyuck sighs, shifting slightly — careful not to wake her. He lowers his head and presses a gentle kiss to the top of Y/N’s hair.
“I’m just really lucky,” he murmurs. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Because he had lived without her. For eight months.
He just didn’t remember it.
And he was the one who let go.
---------------
The next morning, Y/N folded laundry at the foot of the bed, trying to sound casual.
“I’m gonna go clean my place today,” she said. “And bring back some clothes. Pajamas too.”
Donghyuck looked up from the couch immediately. “Why don’t we just stay at yours for a few days?”
Her hands stilled.
She pictured it instantly — the apartment she’d tried to turn into something neutral. The photos she’d packed away into a box, his hoodies folded carefully and placed on top, the box she’d meant to return but never did. It still sat in the corner, untouched, collecting dust because she couldn’t bring herself to text him.
She couldn’t bring him there like this.
She forced a smile. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s better we stay here for now. In case something jogs your memory, don’t you think? Maybe in a few weeks we can go.”
He studied her, then nodded. “Okay.”
A beat passed.
“I can come with you,” he added. “Help you clean.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, you need to rest. Especially after cooking yesterday and staying up late with Mark and Johnny.”
He frowned. “Why don’t you want me to come over?”
She sighed, turning to face him fully. “Hyuck, it’s not that. You really do need rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” he said stubbornly. “It’s boring. I need to stimulate my brain.” He paused, then pouted slightly. “Please let me come.”
Her resolve crumbled instantly.
She leaned in without thinking and pressed a soft kiss to his lips — brief, familiar, dangerous.
“…Okay,” she said quietly.
The second the word left her mouth, guilt followed.
You’re so weak, she thought.
He’d always been like this — and so had she. Always giving in, always bending, always saying yes to him far too easily.
And even knowing how this would end, she let him win anyway.
They stepped into her apartment, and the air felt different immediately.
Donghyuck kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the couch like he owned the place, stretching out comfortably. He patted his lap, eyes already on her.
“Sit with me for a second, baby.”
She didn’t hesitate.
Y/N moved into him automatically, settling into his lap and leaning against his chest like it was second nature. It wasn’t until she felt his arms come around her that her brain caught up — you’re doing it again.
But it was too late.
“Let’s just chill for a second before we start,” he said softly, smiling down at her. “I don’t want you overstressing yourself, taking care of me and everything else.”
Her heart clenched.
She leaned down again, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before she could stop herself. “I could never be stressed taking care of you, my love.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, stroking slowly. He sighed, content, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
“I don’t know why,” he murmured, “but I missed your place. It’s so much more cozy. Lived in. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been here.”
A nervous laugh slipped out of her. “Yeah, well… pretty much the same since the last time you came.”
He hummed, gaze drifting around the room.
Then his brows knit together.
“Why are our pictures together gone?”
Her stomach dropped — but her voice didn’t waver.
“I’m cleaning the frames,” she said smoothly. The lie slid out exactly as she’d practiced it in her head.
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “That makes sense.” He smiled. “Maybe I should do the same with the ones at my place. God knows the last time I cleaned them.”
He paused, then added lightly, “Maybe we should add some new ones too. Our pictures are kind of old.”
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “We can.”
She stood up immediately, breaking the moment before it swallowed her whole. “I’m gonna start cleaning.”
He reached for her wrist. “I can help.”
“No,” she said a little too fast, then softened. “You should sit. Watch TV. Rest.”
He pouted. “You’re bossy.”
“And you’re supposed to listen,” she replied gently.
After a second, he sighed. “Fine.”
He leaned back against the couch, turning on the TV while she busied herself with tidying — keeping her back to him, heart pounding, thoughts racing.
Because every question was getting closer.
And every lie was getting harder to hold together.
-----------
They stayed at her place a few hours longer than planned, the afternoon slipping by quietly. Eventually, they drove back to his apartment as the sky began to darken, exhaustion settling in again — the kind that felt heavier than just being tired.
As soon as they were inside, Donghyuck stretched and rolled his shoulders. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, glancing at her with a familiar glint. “You wanna join?”
Y/N bit her lip.
Every instinct told her to say no. But she never used to. And today had already been full of too many almost-mistakes, too many moments where pulling away would feel wrong.
“You go first,” she said finally, heart racing. “I’ll join you. But no funny business.”
He smirked, clearly pleased. “Promise.”
She watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the apartment. A moment later, she heard him humming softly — some tune she didn’t recognize, but the habit itself was painfully familiar.
She sighed.
You can do this, she told herself. Just act normal.
She undressed slowly, nerves buzzing under her skin, then slipped into the bathroom and stepped into the shower behind him. Steam filled the space, warm and comforting.
He glanced back, smiling immediately. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied quietly.
“We should use the new soap we got,” he said casually. “On you.”
Her breath hitched just slightly.
That had always been his favorite thing — taking care of her in these small, gentle ways. Shampooing her hair, rinsing it carefully. Pressing soap into his hands and scrubbing her arms, her shoulders, like it was something precious instead of ordinary. It was never rushed, never careless.
It had always felt intimate without being overwhelming.
Like love lived in the details.
The warm water cascaded over Y/N's skin, mingling with the suds as Donghyuck's hands glided across her back. His chest pressed firmly against her from behind, his body heat cutting through the steam like a promise.
His fingers trailed lower, lathering her hips before sliding up to cup her breasts. The soap slicked everything, making his palms glide smoothly as he kneaded the soft flesh. Y/N arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips when his thumbs brushed over her hardening nipples.
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, but instead of words, his lips found her neck. Soft at first, then firmer, sucking gently on the sensitive skin just below her ear.
His mouth moved to her shoulder, teeth grazing lightly as he nipped, sending sparks down her spine.
'Donghyuck,' Y/N whispered, her voice breathy, but he only hummed in response, his hands squeezing her breasts more insistently. The fondling turned possessive, fingers pinching and rolling her nipples until another moan spilled out, louder this time.
The water rinsed the soap away, but the heat between them built, his growing erection pressing hard against her back.
She couldn't take the tease anymore. Twisting in his arms, Y/N turned to face him, water streaming down both their faces. Her hands tangled in his wet hair as she pulled him into a kiss, desperate and hungry.
He responded with equal fire, his lips crashing against hers roughly, tongue invading her mouth without mercy. One hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as he devoured her.
'Fuck the doctor's orders,' he growled against her lips, voice low and ragged.
------------
Wanna read the rest? Subscribe to my patreon here or access the FULL story here.
