#sim jake angst

[luvpocket]

top one (sim jake) ꫂ᭪݁

part two of top two !

pairing: coworker!jake x fem!reader

content: four year time skip, angst, smut, fluff.

warnings: mdni! sexual content, yearning, teasing, sexual tension, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it), kind of risky sex, desperate sex, fingering, marking, shared history, hurt/comfort, alcohol use.

wc: 25.5k

note: i finally wrote it :’) i hope this gives you a little bit of closure hehe. thank you so much for all the love part one received, it was my first enha story and i was honestly nervous to even post it lmao. i genuinely love everyone here so much 🥹🫶🏻

i made a small playlist ! (i love doing this):

moon - daniel caesar / the cure - olivia rodrigo / fine line - harry styles / the book of love - the magnetic fields / these days - nico / how was your day? - beabadoobee / mirrorball - taylor swift / waiting room - phoebe bridgers / we’ll never have sex - leith ross / once more to see you - mitski / all too well (10 min version) - taylor swift / cigarette smoke - olivia rodrigo / honeybee - olivia rodrigo / supermodel - sza / riding around the dark - florist

permanent taglist (you can comment!): @kristynaaah @hooniella @gentlestpour @heelvcr @heesvnqie @kazehee @rikigirr @cherishmoka @hoonieslove @layenha @sulkybunnysstuff

top two taglist: @eclipsegetthatbag @sam1xi3 @nonsochenomemettere0

enjoy ! < 3

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it took exactly one thousand four hundred and sixty one days for the phantom scent of cheap vodka and freezing wind to stop waking you up at three in the morning, though the ghost of that fire escape still lingered in the quiet corners of your mind like an unresolved equation. when you left that place, you hadn't just walked away from a campus or a ranking. you had completely dismantled the person you used to be, trading your grand academic ambitions for the unglamorous mechanics of survival.

your gap year was a blurred cycle of alarm clocks and heavy limbs, an endless stretch of twelve hour shifts at a local clinic where you filed medical records until your fingers went numb, all while living in the cramped, humid spare room of your aunt’s apartment. it was an existence stripped entirely of color, defined by the humiliating reality of counting pennies and sleeping on a mattress that smelled faintly of old dust, your already weak pride completely crushed as you watched your peers from afar moving forward while you were stuck in a static loop just to build back a savings account from nothing.

so when you finally saved enough to enroll in your final year, it wasn't at a prestigious institute with wood paneled walls and competitive hierarchies, but at an underfunded commuter university on the edge of the city where the paint was peeling in the hallways and the professors didn't even bother to memorize your name.

there were no numbered lists on the walls there, no brilliant rivals looking over your shoulder to see your methodologies. and for a long time, the absolute silence of it was harder to bear than the pressure ever had been.

you had spent that entire final year like a machine, putting your head down and grinding through advanced clinical seminars with detached efficiency. you completely refused to make friends or connect with anyone, because you were terrified that if you let your guard down for even a second, the overwhelming bitterness of what you had lost would swallow you whole. you finished your degree not with a sense of triumph, but with a quiet relief, your diploma just a piece of paper that proved you had survived the wreckage of your own life.

and now, two years later, you were standing in the sterile, brightly lit lobby of st. jude’s hospital, the heavy glass doors sliding shut behind you with a dull hiss that felt dangerously like a point of no return. you adjusted the strap of your bag against your shoulder, your fingers nervously tracing the sharp edges of the laminated plastic badge clipped to your blazer. you looked at it anxiously, your name printed in neat letters right above the title junior clinical psychologist.

this was supposed to be the fresh start you had spent so much time bleeding for, the clean slate where your past didn't follow you and your bank account was finally stable enough to let you breathe. yet, as you stared down the immaculate white corridor that smelled intensely of bleach and synthetic lavender, your stomach twisted into that same familiar knot of anxiety. the hospital was massive, a prestigious psychiatric and research hub that took only the best graduates. the sheer irony of ending up right back in an high stakes environment wasn't lost on you as you took a shaky breath, trying to steady the frantic beating of your heart.

you smoothed down the front of your trousers, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar, and began to walk toward the human resources department on the fourth floor, your heels clicking softly against the polished floors while you fought back the overwhelming urge to turn around and run. you told yourself you were ready, told yourself that the fragile, broken girl who had cried so much was completely dead and buried. but as you stepped into the elevator and watched the metal doors slowly close, the heavy silence inside felt thick with anticipation, as if the universe was just waiting for you to realize that some ghosts can never be outrun.

the elevator dinged, a soft sound that cut through the loud thumping of your heart. the metal doors slid open to reveal a sunlit floor that smelled faintly of that same lavender soap and old paper. you stepped out cautiously, your fingers still white from how tightly you were gripping the strap of your bag, waiting for the weight of the world to crush you again.

instead, a tall guy with a soft denim jacket thrown over his hospital scrubs detangled himself from the reception desk, a folder in his hand and a remarkably gentle expression on his face.

"you must be y/n." he said, his voice a low hum that didn't carry a single ounce of the cutting authority you had spent four years learning to fear. he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that felt completely uncalculated. "i'm daniel. i've been a clinical resident here for a bit of time now. the chief told me to look after you today so you don't accidentally walk into the research labs locked zones."

"good morning." you said, your throat tight, your body still braced for an interrogation about your credentials, your gap year, or the low tier university name printed on your degree.

but daniel just tucked the folder under his arm and gave you a reassuring nod. "don't look so terrified, y/n. we’re glad you're here. let's get you your locker keys first, and i'll show you where the good coffee machine is hidden."

you followed a half step behind him, your shoulder muscles so tense they practically ached because your brain was still operating on old, defensive code.

but daniel just walked at a leisurely pace, his hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket, pointing out things that had absolutely nothing to do with metrics or performance.

"the administrative wing is always a bit dry." he murmured, nodding toward a row of frosted glass doors as he guided you toward a back hallway. "but once you get past the main double doors, it gets a lot more human. the lounge is back here. it’s where we hide when the charting gets too mind numbing."

he pushed open a heavy wooden door as the clinical smell of floor wax was immediately replaced by the comforting scent of roasted coffee beans and toasted bread. the room was spacious, bathed in the soft morning light filtering through a row of large windows that looked out over a quiet inner courtyard. there were mismatched mugs drying on a rack by the sink, a half eaten box of donuts on the counter, and a couple of worn in green armchairs tucked into a corner by a bookshelf overflowing with thick psychiatric volumes.

"alright, locker forty two is yours." daniel said, pulling a small silver key from his pocket and sliding it across the counter toward you. "the lock sticks a little bit, so you have to give it a sharp jolt with your thumb when you turn it. go ahead and drop your things off."

you stepped toward the row of gray metal lockers, your fingers trembling slightly as you slotted the key into the lock of number forty two. you gave it the small jolt daniel had mentioned, the metal clicking open with a dull thud. as you swung the door wide, your breath caught in your throat. tucked inside the small shelf at the top was a small, hand painted ceramic mug with a sticky note stuck to the front in neat handwriting: welcome to the department, y/n! we left the good coffee pods in the top drawer for you. — ava.

you stared at the little note for a long second, the ink blurring slightly as a sudden pressure built up behind your eyes. for many years, you had been acting like a ghost, entirely convinced that your academic failure had stripped away your right to be welcomed anywhere. you had expected cold glances, a desk in a dark corner, and the silent judgment of people who had never had to drop out to survive. but this — this unprompted gesture of kindness from a stranger — felt completely upside down.

"ava is one of our occupational therapists." daniel explained softly, leaning his hip against the counter as he watched you trace the edge of the note with your thumb. his voice didn't carry any pity, just a grounding certainty that made you feel like you weren't about to shatter into pieces. "she remembers how brutal the first day can feel. we all do. nobody expects you to be a flawless machine by nine o'clock, y/n. just take a breath."

"thank you." you whispered, your voice thick as you carefully folded the note and tucked it into your blazer pocket before hanging your bag on a hook. "it’s... it's really nice."

once you had put on the mandatory white coat, daniel took you by the elbow, guiding you back out into the hall to begin the real introductions. but instead of marching you into a boardroom to present your credentials to a panel of hyper critical supervisors, the process was incredibly slow, almost domestic.

your first stop was the central nursing station, a horseshoe shaped desk right in the center of the adult psychiatric wing. an older woman with sharp eyes and her silver hair tied back in a neat bun was typing furiously on a computer, a massive stack of patient charts looming next to her elbow.

"may." daniel called out gently, tapping the top of the counter. "this is y/n. she's the new junior clinician taking over the outpatient cognitive behavioral therapy slots."

nurse may stopped typing immediately. she didn't just give you a professional nod and looked back at her screen. instead, she pushed her rolling chair back, standing up to look at you over her reading glasses. your body instinctively tensed, waiting for the standard evaluation look — a calculating glance that measured whether you were worth her time.

but to your surprise, her face softened into an almost maternal smile as she reached across the high desk to squeeze your hand. her palm was warm and dry, her grip surprisingly strong. "ah, the one with the research paper on adolescent trauma responses." she said, her voice rich and steady. "the chief showed us your abstract last week, y/n. it was beautifully written. we’ve been drowning in the outpatient queue, so you are an absolute godsend. if daniel here gives you any trouble or tries to pass off his intake paperwork to you, you come straight to me, alright?"

"okay." you said, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips for the first time all morning. the knot of anxiety that had been sitting in your stomach since you woke up at five o'clock began to loosen, just a fraction, leaving behind a strange ache of relief.

there were no lists on the walls here. there were no digital boards flashing your ranking to the entire department, no suffocating silence in the hallways where your peers almost refused to look you in the eye.

as daniel led you from the nursing station down toward the junior residents' lounge, introducing you to the speech pathologists, the social workers, and the intake coordinators, the world slowly began to regain its color. a guy named niki stopped eating his toast just to show you how to bypass the temperamental paper jam in the main copier. a senior resident named joe paused his phone call to give you a welcoming wave from his office door.

every interaction was small, subtle, and entirely devoid of friction. you weren't a metric to be beaten or a rival to be kept at a distance, you were just another pair of hands arriving to help carry the complicated stories of the people walking through the clinic doors. by eleven o'clock, as you sat at your new desk in the shared lounge, organizing your highlighters and looking over your first week's schedule, you took a deep breath of the sterile hospital air. right there, you allowed yourself to think, for the very first time, that maybe you had actually made it across the river. maybe the survival part was finally over, and you were allowed to just exist.

by twelve thirty, the morning rush had finally tapered off into a manageable hum. you were just finishing color coding your intake calendar when daniel leaned his head through the open doorway of the lounge, his pager clipped to his waistband and a crooked smile on his face. "alright, rookie." he said, gesturing with his chin toward the hallway. "lunchtime. let's get you down to the cafeteria before the neuro research team eats all the spicy pork bowls."

you stood up, smoothing down the front of your coat, and followed him down the long corridor toward the glass elevators. walking beside him felt easy, the hyper vigilant shield you usually wore around senior colleagues, and people in general, starting to feel a little lighter. your feet moved at an unhurried pace instead of the frantic scurry you had spent years mastering.

the cafeteria on the lower level was massive, flooded with bright sunshine pouring through the floor to ceiling glass windows that looked out onto the manicured green courtyard. the space was filled with the chaotic symphony of hospital life — the clatter of plastic trays, the low murmur of dozens of conversations, and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on polished tile. just as you and daniel grabbed your trays and stepped into the salad line, an insistent electronic beep cut through the noise.

daniel unclipped his pager, his brow furrowing as he read the glowing green text on the tiny screen. he let out an apologetic groan, turning to look at you with a genuinely remorseful expression. "ah, damn it, y/n, i'm so sorry. there’s a critical intake issue down in ward b and they need a senior signature immediately. look," he said, pointing a finger toward a sunlit circular table near the center of the room where a girl with a high ponytail and bright pink crocs was violently waving her napkin at him. "go sit with lily. she’s one of our triage nurses on the psychiatric floor and she knows literally every single soul in this building. she won't let you sit alone, i promise. i'll catch up with you in twenty minutes."

"it's totally fine. thank you so much, daniel." you said, offering him a reassuring smile before balancing your tray in your hands and making your way toward the table.

lily didn't even wait for you to sit down before she pulled out the plastic chair next to her, her face lighting up with the kind of uncritical friendliness that you had spent years believing didn't exist in these kind of environments. "you're y/n, right? the new psych junior? daniel’s been talking about your research abstract for three days straight." she said, sliding her container of sliced strawberries toward the middle of the table to share. "sit, please. tell me everything. how was your morning? did nurse may try to scare you with the intake stack yet?"

"she was actually really sweet." you murmured, sitting down and feeling a genuine chuckle bubble up in your throat. "she told me she would protect me if daniel tried to dump his paperwork on my desk."

"oh, absolutely. may is the undisputed queen of this wing." lily laughed, leaning forward on her elbows, her eyes sparkling with a playful sort of energy. "but don't let the maternal vibe fool you. if you take her designated parking spot in the lower deck, she will systematically destroy your clinical rotation schedule. it’s a known fact."

for the next fifteen minutes, you actually found yourself having fun. it was an intoxicating sensation. you sat there eating your lunch, listening to lily dish out the entire social landscape of st. jude’s in a way that was entirely devoid of malice. she wasn't talking about who was publishing more or who had the highest accuracy ratings. she was telling you about the head of cardiology who accidentally wore mismatched shoes to a board meeting, and the radiology resident who was secretly terrified of the dark. you were smiling, your shoulders dropping completely as you let out a light laugh that felt real, a sound that hadn't crossed your lips in a standard hospital setting since the day you packed your bags into cardboard boxes. you felt like a normal girl, a normal twenty four year old having lunch with a coworker, completely wrapped in the warm cocoon of a life that finally made sense.

"oh, but wait, if you really want to know about the elite tier of the hospital, you have to look at the research tables by the courtyard glass." lily whispered suddenly, her tone shifting from bubbly amusement into a slightly dramatic drop that people usually reserve for campus legends or untouchable royalty. she nodded subtly toward the far end of the cafeteria, where the light from the courtyard windows was so bright it casted long shadows across the floor. "that’s the neuro analytics team. they're basically treated like gods by the administration because their data models bring in millions in grant funding every single quarter. but honestly? they are a bunch of absolute weirdos."

you took a sip of your water, still smiling, completely entertained by her commentary. "why do you say that?"

"because they're all completely socially inept, especially the golden boy resident they recruited a year ago." lily murmured, resting her chin in her hand as her eyes scanned the distant table. "god, the drama surrounding that guy is unreal. he came in from some insanely prestigious ivy league track. top of his class, brilliant beyond belief, the kind of mind that makes the chief practically weep with joy. but he is a literal ice cube, y/n. he’s been here like fourteen months and i don't think a single person has ever seen him actually laugh. all the nursing interns try to flirt with him, because he is honestly hot as fuck, but he just looks right through them like they're statistical noise."

the word hit the back of your throat like a drop of freezing water, your smile faltering just a fraction at the familiar terminology, a faint taste of old anxiety suddenly tingling on the back of your tongue.

"seriously, it’s almost tragic." lily continued, completely oblivious to the way your hand had gone entirely still against your napkins. "he works eighty hour weeks, lives in the high level research labs, and looks like he hasn't slept a full night since 2023. people think the mystery is hot though, i guess. his name is-"

"jake sim." lily said, finishing her sentence with a casual pop of a strawberry into her mouth, completely unaware that she had just dropped a live grenade onto the middle of the table. "honestly, just looking at him makes my own anxiety spike."

the name didn't just ring in your ears. it settled into the marrow of your bones with a dull ache that you hadn't felt in months. for the longest time, you had systematically scrubbed his name out of your vocabulary, burying it under stacks of cheap textbooks, twelve hour filing shifts, and the exhausting routine of survival. your heart did a violent thud against your ribs, and for a split second, your skin prickled with the phantom sensation of that dark balcony.

but as the initial shock rippled through your chest, something strange happened. the ground beneath your feet didn't disappear.

you felt the cool plastic of your new ID badge resting securely against your blazer. you felt the genuine sunlight washing over your shoulders from the courtyard glass, and you looked at lily, who was still sitting across from you, completely safe and friendly. you weren't that empty girl with seven hundred dollars in her savings account anymore. you had clawed your way through the dirt to earn this white coat, and you had built a life out of nothing but your own resilience. you were finally alive, and you were sure the ghost of jake sim didn't have the power to pull you back into the dark.

slowly, you turned your head. your eyes shifted past the crowded tables, the clattering trays, and the laughing interns, tracking the bright midday light until it hit the far end of the cafeteria against the glass panels.

there he was.

he looked so entirely different that it almost made your breath hitch in your throat, a quiet gasp trapped behind your teeth. the frantic brilliance that used to radiate off him like a sunburn was completely gone, replaced by a suffocating stillness that made him look entirely detached from the room around him. he was wearing his crisp white coat over a dark charcoal sweater, a pair of thin glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he sat slouched over a tablet covered in complex data models.

lily hadn't been exaggerating — he looked utterly hollowed out.

his sharp jawline seemed even more pronounced against his pale skin, his shoulders slumped forward in a total collapse of posture that made him look incredibly small despite his broad frame. the dark circles beneath his eyes were deep and bruised, a physical manifestation of a quiet rot that no amount of ivy league prestige could cure.

he looked like he was suffocating in the very tower he had broken both of you to keep. you sat there and watched him from afar, a strange mixture of old grief and quiet pity twisting in your stomach. you had spent years believing that he had won everything, that his charisma, his intelligence, his money and his status had bought him a flawless path while you were left to bleed in a cramped spare room. but looking at him now, the contrast was blindingly clear.

and then, as if feeling the sudden weight of your gaze cutting through the white noise of the cafeteria, his slouched shoulders suddenly went completely rigid.

jake slowly lifted his head from his tablet. through the thin silver frames of his glasses, his dark eyes scanned the crowded room with a cold indifference — until they hit your table. until they locked directly onto you.

the world didn't just stop, it felt like it imploded. the color completely drained from jake's face within a fraction of a second, his entire body freezing so abruptly his fingers slipped off the edge of his tablet. behind his glasses, his eyes opened with a raw shock that was so visceral you could feel it across the distance of the room. he didn't blink. he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling in shallow hitches as if he were looking at a literal ghost.

the mutual panic between you was thick, a dark wire pulling tight until it bruised. your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird, the urge to run out of the cafeteria scratching at the back of your throat. because despite the new white coat on your back and the ID badge pinned to your blazer, you momentarily felt like that same broken girl, and he momentarily looked like the boy who still held the pieces.

jake didn't move. his knuckles turned white where his hands gripped the edge of the laminate table, a plastic pen slipping from his fingers and rolling off the surface with a dull click that you couldn't hear across the noise, but saw perfectly. the suffocating intensity in his stare was exactly the same as it had been on that fire escape — a direct line cutting through years of separation like it was nothing but thin air. you wanted to look away, you desperately needed to tear your eyes from his, but your muscles felt like concrete.

"y/n? god, you've gone totally white." lily’s voice suddenly pierced through the static in your ears, her hand warm and solid as it pressed firmly into your forearm. the touch felt like an electric shock, forcing the oxygen back into your lungs and breaking the invisible wire that had been pinning you to your chair. you forced your head down, the movement so abrupt it made the bright cafeteria blur into a messy smear of white and green.

"i'm fine." you choked out, your voice sounding incredibly small, a brittle lie that scratched at your throat. you stared at your tray, your fingers trembling so violently against your napkin that you had to tuck your hands between your knees just to hide the shaking. "just... a sudden head rush. i think the fluorescent lights are just a bit much today."

"are you sure? you look like you're about to faint." lily murmured, her playful energy instantly evaporating into genuine concern as she leaned closer, trying to read your downcast face. "do you want me to get you some juice from the counter? or we can go back to the junior lounge where it's quieter."

"no, no, i'm okay, promise." you whispered, forcing a mechanical smile onto your face as you risked raising your chin just enough to look at her, completely terrified of what would happen if your eyes drifted back toward the glass panels. "just give me a second. i just need to breathe."

but even with your back partially turned and your eyes glued to the table, you could still feel him. his gaze was a physical weight on the side of your neck, hot and heavy, a silent scream cutting through the clatter of silverware and the low murmur of the hospital staff. you were supposed to be safe here. you had bled for years to earn this position, to prove to yourself that your worth wasn't tied to his world, but the mere sight of him had reduced all that hard earned resilience into a fragile shield.

you took a slow sip of your water, using both hands to keep the plastic cup from rattling against your teeth. out of the very edge of your peripheral vision, you saw the distant shadow by the window finally change shape. jake hadn't stood up to come toward you. instead, his broad shoulders had slouched even deeper forward, his head dropping slowly into his hands as his fingers tangled desperately in his dark hair, now stripped of the recognizable bleach from your college years. the sight of his collapse sent a strange shiver down your spine. you weren't better than him, and you certainly weren't healed — the frantic thumping of your heart was proof enough of that. seeing the golden boy of your past university completely undone by your mere existence was a complicated pill to swallow.

"hey, daniel's back." lily said softly, nodding toward the entrance where daniel was weaving through the tables, his expression still hurried.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, smoothing down your coat with numb fingers, preparing yourself to look normal, to look functional, to look like the junior psychologist you were supposed to be. even as the ghost from the fire escape sat just a few yards away, drowning in the exact same room.

"hey, sorry that took longer than expected." daniel said, his voice dropping into the empty space at the table as he slid into the chair across from you. he smelled faintly of the cold air from the lower corridors and sterile hand sanitizer, his presence a grounding burst of normal reality. "some intern completely botched a medication reconciliation chart on a sectioned patient down in ward b. absolute nightmare."

you forced your chin up, the muscles in your neck so rigid they actually ached as you offered him a small nod. you had spent the entirety of your gap year learning how to look perfectly functional when your insides were completely hollowed out, and that defensive muscle memory kicked in now with a terrifying efficiency.

"it's fine." you murmured, your voice sounding a little distant, like it belonged to someone else entirely. "lily kept me entertained."

lily looked between the two of you, her eyes lingering on the way your knuckles were still white around your plastic water cup. "she had a bit of a sudden head rush, actually." she told daniel, her playful tone dropping into something more subdued. "i think the air down here is just a little suffocating today. she went completely pale for a second."

daniel’s brows furrowed, his gaze instantly shifting to your face with genuine concern. "you okay, y/n? the first day is a massive sensory overload, honestly. if you need to sit out the afternoon intake observations, i can easily tell the supervisor you're still adjusting."

"no, really, i'm okay." you interrupted, the words tumbling out a little too fast, a little too sharp. you couldn't afford to look weak on your first day. you couldn’t lose your footing the second you crossed the finish line. and more than anything, you refused to let the boy by the window be the reason you stumbled. "just needed some water. i'm ready for the rest of the tour, daniel. really." you stood up, your knees feeling uncomfortably loose beneath your trousers, your hands gripping the edges of your plastic tray with unnecessary force just to keep them from trembling.

as the three of you cleared the table and walked toward the tray return conveyor belt, you were forced to walk a path that ran parallel to the long row of courtyard windows. you didn't look, keeping your eyes locked strictly on the blue fabric of daniel's scrubs ahead of you. but the human brain is a cruel machine, as it mapped out the coordinates of your oldest wound without your permission.

still, you kept walking, the metal doors of the elevator finally sliding shut with a soft click. as it lifted toward the fourth floor, you kept your eyes trained on the small digital floor indicator, watching the numbers glow in the quiet air, forcing your lungs to expand and contract in a mechanical pattern. you had to keep it together. you had a job to do, a life to maintain, and you couldn't afford to crumble into dust before your first afternoon was even halfway over.

the outpatient psychiatric wing was quiet, a stark and comforting contrast to the sensory chaos of the lower floors. the hallways here were wide, painted a muted sage green that seemed designed to absorb the ambient anxiety of the building, and the harsh fluorescent glare was replaced by soft track lighting that casted gentle shadows against the polished floors.

daniel led you down the corridor, his sneakers making a faint squeak against the floor until he stopped outside a dark wood door with a small plastic nameplate reading office 312 — y/n, junior clinician.

"here's your space." daniel murmured, pushing the door open to reveal a compact but cozy room. a heavy oak desk sat against the wall, a tall bookshelf stood empty and waiting for your texts, and two charcoal grey armchairs faced each other near a wide window that looked out over the quiet tops of the courtyard trees. on the corner of the desk, a thick stack of manila folders was waiting for you — your first real patient intake roster. "i'll leave you to look over the files for an hour. at two, we'll do a joint observation in consultation room b. take a breath, y/n. you made it through the first morning."

you managed a small nod, offering him a professional smile as he closed the door behind him. the heavy wood clicked into place, insulating you from the rest of the hospital, and for a few minutes, you forced yourself to go through the motions of a normal life. you sat in the leather chair, logged into the clinical database, and arranged your highlighters in a perfectly straight line. you opened the first file, your thumb tracing the words generalized anxiety disorder and maladaptive coping strategies, trying to anchor yourself to the clinical reality that you were a professional now. you belonged there.

but the moment the room fell entirely still, the clinical terms blurred on the page, and your gaze drifted helplessly toward the glass pane of the window.

your outside shell was holding up perfectly — you had spoken to daniel, you had accepted the paperwork, you were clicking through the software exactly like a competent junior clinician should. but inside, your chest felt completely hollowed out, your mind utterly hijacked by the image of the boy from the cafeteria table.

you were deeply moved by that moment, and it terrified you how easily the mere sight of him could still rip the air straight out of your lungs. for years, you had carried a defensive but silent anger like a shield, entirely convinced that jake had walked away from your ruined relationship with his hands full of gold. you had pictured him thriving on his prestigious track, moving through his wealthy world with that same infuriating, effortless arrogance, completely untouched by the gravity that had left you counting coins in a dark room.

but the difference between the boy in your memory and the person sitting by that window was devastating. you remembered a jake whose posture was always straight with competitive pride, whose dark eyes snapped with magnetic energy whenever he spoke about his research models. he used to look entirely untouchable, like the world was something he could just bend to his will.

but the guy down there today looked smaller. the way his broad shoulders had slouched forward in that exhausted collapse. the deep, bruised hollows beneath his eyes. the frantic way his fingers had tangled in his dark hair — it was so incredibly easy to see how much he had changed.

as you sat in the quiet of your new office, your hands were still ice cold, the erratic thumping against your ribs a painful reminder that you were still incredibly fragile. but as you reached forward to open the next patient file, forcing your trembling fingers to grip the tab, a strange quiet finally settled over your panic. you were okay. your life was actually starting now and you wouldn’t let anyone or anything mess with that, not even your own self.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the weeks that followed that first afternoon slowly bled into a steady rhythm, the sharp edges of your initial panic gradually wearing down until they were nothing more than a manageable hum. the outpatient wing became a space that didn't just feel safe, but familiar. you learned the strange language of the charting software, figured out exactly how nurse may liked her intake summaries formatted, and found that the charcoal grey armchairs in office 312 actually held the weight of a lot of heavy stories without breaking. to your own quiet surprise, you weren't just getting by, you were actually good at your job. the long years you had spent being hyper vigilant in a spare bedroom, analyzing every slight shift in the air just to survive, finally translated into an intuitive competence. even the socializing part of your life was slowly losing its friction. you found yourself lingering by the central horseshoe desk just to exchange soft, dry humor with nurse may, or letting lily drag you down to the lower courtyard for quick coffee breaks. you were learning how to take up space again, and your outside shell was finally starting to feel less like a fragile shield and more like real skin.

it was a rainy tuesday afternoon in late november when you were just finishing up your notes. as you typed on your laptop, daniel knocked lightly on your open door, a thick blue binder tucked securely under his arm. 

"hey, y/n." daniel said, leaning against the doorframe with a tired but collaborative smile. "the chief is pushing for a cross-departmental review on our chronic outpatient queue. we’re trying to integrate our clinical cognitive tracking with the new predictive data models from neuro-analytics to see if we can catch patient regression earlier. we're doing a quick briefing in consultation room c."

"sure, let me just grab my tablet." you murmured, closing your own folder and sliding it into your drawer. you stood up, automatically smoothing down the front of your coat, the fabric now broken in and comfortable against your shoulders. you felt normal. you felt capable as you followed daniel down the sage green corridor, chatting idly about how his morning went.

when daniel pushed open the heavy door to consultation room c, the air inside was quiet, illuminated by the soft gray light filtering through a high window. a senior research coordinator named dr. vance was already standing by the digital whiteboard, his stylus tapping against the screen as he pulled up a series of complex graphs.

but it wasn't the graphs that made the blood instantly turn to ice in your veins.

sitting at the far end of the long metal conference table, slouched low over a glowing laptop, was jake. his pale fingers were moving across his keyboard in a mechanical blur, reminding you of the agonizing hours you used to spend watching him do that, looking just as hollowed out as he had some weeks ago. his broad shoulders curved inward in that heavy collapse of posture, completely detached from the room around him.

"ah, perfect, the clinical team is here." dr. vance said, looking up from the board with an energetic nod. he gestured toward the empty chairs opposite the table, entirely oblivious to the way your entire body had gone completely rigid the second your shoes hit the carpet. "y/n, come on in, take a seat."

jake’s fingers froze instantly on his keyboard.

slowly, as if the movement required an immense amount of physical effort, his head lifted. through the thin frames of his glasses, his dark eyes fixed directly onto you. the indifference that usually masked his face shattered within a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening so hard the muscle visibly jumped beneath his skin. the color drained from his lips, his chest rising in a shallow hitch that you could hear perfectly in the quiet room.

you looked around nervously, seeing that a handful of people were already gathered around the long metal conference table. dr. vance spoke again, quickly taking you out of your trance. "everyone, this is y/n, our new junior clinician on the outpatient slots. y/n, this is dr. cho from neurology, anna from stats, and over there is jake sim from neuro-analytics."

jake didn't move. his hand was still hovering over his laptop, his knuckles turning a stark white as he waited.

you wanted to run, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. instead, you took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing your outside shell to hold together with an icy efficiency. before the silence could stretch into something strange, you offered the table a polite smile and gave a casual nod in his direction.

"oh, we actually know each other." you said, your voice sounding remarkably light, completely devoid of any weight or history, as if you were talking about an old acquaintance you barely remembered. "jake and i. we went to the same undergrad university. good to see you, jake."

the words dropped into the room like a casual breeze, but across the table, jake looked like he had been physically struck. you actually didn’t know why you had said that, or if it even was appropriate in that setting. but the survival instinct had taken over before your conscious brain could even veto it. it was a defense mechanism, pure and simple — a desperate strike to set the boundaries before both of your expressions could give you away to the entire room. if you made him small, if you treated him like nothing more than an old classmate you casually ran into, then the ghost couldn't drag you back into the dark. you were claiming the narrative before he could even speak, forcing the past into a box neither of you were allowed to open.

"oh, small world! i love when that happens." dr. vance chuckled, completely missing the way the color had entirely drained from your faces. he turned back to the whiteboard, tapping the stylus against the screen. "well, that makes communication easier. y/n, for this pilot, you'll be coordinating your weekly clinical tracking metrics directly with anna and dr. cho. jake is going to be handling the macro backend algorithm on the upper floors, so he'll just be pulling from the shared database."

"perfect, that works great for me." you murmured, sliding into an empty chair next to daniel, completely removing your gaze from the far end of the table.

you opened your tablet, your fingers perfectly steady as you focused on the tracking graphs, completely refusing to look back at him. but even without looking, you could feel the crushing weight of his stare burning into the side of your face.

the remaining twenty minutes of the briefing passed in a dull blur. you kept your eyes anchored to the glass screen of your tablet, your fingers tracing the plastic bezel with a mechanical pressure, completely hyper-aware of how the air in the room had turned thick and heavy.

when dr. vance finally clicked his presentation shut, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor felt like a jarring rescue. you moved with quiet efficiency without looking across the table. you didn't wait to see if jake would stand up, or if the coldness in his eyes would melt into something else. you simply slid your tablet into your bag, gave dr. cho and anna a professional farewell nod, and walked out the door alongside daniel.

the frantic rhythm of your chest didn’t truly settle until you were three corridors away, the heavy double doors of the outpatient wing clicking shut behind you and daniel like a physical shield. you had spent the entire walk down the hallway nodding mechanically at daniel’s casual commentary about pharmacy backlogs, your outside shell perfectly intact, while inside, your mind was a spinning wreckage. you had actually done it. you had looked right into those dark eyes — the same eyes that had watched you break, the same eyes that had haunted every quiet room you had gone in for years — and you had reduced him to a footnote. as you kept walking, the phantom taste of adrenaline left a bitter weight under your tongue.

but you didn't look back. and for the next few weeks, you made sure it stayed that way.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the following days didn't bring a clean break, but rather a slow stretching of time. november bled seamlessly into a frost rimed december, the hospital windows growing opaque with sheets of gray winter rain. you adapted with a quiet precision, rewriting the internal map of your entire life around your new routine and his avoidance. you learned the exact cadence of the neuro-analytics shift changes. you knew never to take the central elevators between noon and one o'clock. you even memorized the specific smell of the fourth floor crossover bridge just so you could avoid it entirely. you told yourself you were healing because you weren't running away, but the exhausting amount of mental math it took to ensure your paths never crossed was a violent proof that he still occupied every corner of your brain.

yet, the hospital was an interlocking machine, and no matter how thick you built the walls of your fortress downstairs, the central server kept pulling your names into the same dark water. every tuesday and thursday evening, you were forced to log into the pilot program's shared ledger to input your clinical outcomes. and there, sitting quietly at the bottom of the encrypted data stream, his digital footprint would appear. j. sim. a timestamp at 7:42 pm. a database synchronization at 2:14 am. you would stare at the glowing gray characters on your screen, your chest tightening with a strange intimacy. you weren't speaking, you hadn't exchanged a single syllable since that morning in consultation room c, but you were reading his insomnia in the margins of the system logs. you knew exactly how late he was staying up, how obsessively he was twisting the code around your clinical notes, while he, on the upper floors, was watching your data drop into his system with the exact same silent regularity. it was a cold war fought in glowing pixels, both of you pretending to be ghosts while leaving digital footprints all over each other's work.

it was a freezing, stormy thursday night when the outpatient wing completely emptied out, leaving you alone in office 312 under the low hum of the fluorescent lights. you were just finishing the final entry on a critical, high risk observation file — a profile that absolutely required the morning analytics baseline — when your screen suddenly flashed a harsh crimson. the system locked. a stark, red diagnostic message blinked against your eyes: 

critical error: data sync corruption. cross-departmental token required for manual override. please report to neuro-analytics hub for physical database alignment.

you stared at the blinking cursor, a heavy knot of dread dropping straight into your stomach. the administrative staff had gone home hours ago. there were no on call tech couriers left on the lower floors. if you didn't manually push the token through before midnight, the patient’s entire chart would wipe, and the blame would land squarely on your pristine new record. you couldn't lose this job. you couldn't let your wreckage ruin this sanctuary.

with trembling fingers, you ejected the local backup drive, your heart already starting that familiar clatter against your ribs as you stepped into the darkened elevator. the numbers on the digital display ticked upward with a terrifying speed.

when the silver doors slid open on the seventh floor, the air instantly changed. floor seven didn't hold the soft sage green warmth of your clinical spaces. it was a sprawling labyrinth of brushed steel, glass partitions, and exposed concrete. it smelled strongly of ozone and expensive server cooling units, illuminated only by the deep blue glow of oversized workstation monitors. your flats made a terribly loud click against the polished floor as you moved through the maze of empty desks, your hand gripping the flash drive inside your pocket until your knuckles turned white.

"hello?" you called out, your voice sounding remarkably small, swallowed up by the heavy silence of the tech hub. "is there a resident analyst on duty? i need a clinical sync override."

no one answered. the silence stretched out, thick and heavy with the hum of a hundred cooling fans. you walked deeper into the heart of the floor, towards a private research alcove at the very back where a single amber desk lamp casted a long shadow across the concrete. the heavy glass door was propped slightly open.

you stepped up to the threshold, your lips parted to speak, but the breath died instantly in your throat.

jake was there.

he was entirely alone in the darkened lab, slouched so low in a heavy leather chair he looked almost broken by it. his white coat was gone, discarded carelessly over a nearby partition, leaving him in just a thin sweater that clung to the sharp lines of his shoulders. his glasses were pushed carelessly up into his messy dark hair, and his forehead was pressed hard into the palm of his hand as he stared blindly at a massive wall of cascading code. he looked utterly unraveled — the charismatic golden boy who used to glide through university lecture halls with a lazy ease was completely gone. in his place was a hollowed out resident, his face starkly pale under the light, seemingly surviving on nothing but caffeine and pure willpower.

the sound of your shallow intake of air cut through the low drone of the servers like a physical blow.

jake’s fingers froze instantly against his temple. slowly, his head lifted, his dark eyes adjusting to the dim light before they drifted toward the doorway. the exact second his gaze landed on you standing there, the exhausted slouch vanished. his entire frame went completely rigid, his jaw clenching so hard a sharp muscle hitched beneath his skin. he didn't move, and he didn't speak, but his chest began to rise and fall in a ragged pattern as the trap slammed shut around both of you. there were no senior coordinators there, no statistics teams, and no daniel to slide between your spaces. you were entirely exposed, locked in his high tower, with absolutely nowhere left to hide.

the silence that followed was so absolute you could hear the faint click of the cooling fans overriding the main server grid. neither of you moved. for five suffocating seconds, you just stood frozen on the threshold, your fingers digging into the plastic casing of the flash drive inside your pocket until the edges painfully bit into your palm. you became hyper aware of every single detail — the amber glow of the desk lamp cutting across his pale cheekbones, the way his dark hair was slightly damp from the storm outside, the crushing weight of his eyes locking onto yours.

almost mechanically, jake reached up and pulled his glasses down from his hair, sliding them back onto the bridge of his nose. the movement was deliberate, a shield to put between his exhausted face and your sudden presence.

"the data sync crashed." you said. your voice sounded shockingly thin in the vast concrete lab, a fragile thread that you desperately tried to lace with clinical authority. "outpatient database. it threw a cross-departmental corruption error. i need a physical token override before midnight or the file wipes."

jake didn't answer right away. he just stared at you through his lenses, his jaw working silently as he processed the actual sound of your voice. it wasn't a casual remark thrown across a crowded conference table anymore, but your voice, directly addressing him, alone in the dark.

"give it to me." he finally muttered. his tone was incredibly low, rough and gravelly from hours of silence and too much black coffee. it lacked any of that effortless charisma that used to make entire lecture halls lean in toward him. it just sounded incredibly tired and incredibly bitter.

you took three slow steps into his space, every muscle in your legs screaming at you to turn around and run back to the elevator. you pulled the small silver flash drive from your pocket and held it out, your arm stiff, keeping as much physical distance between your bodies as humanly possible. jake reached out to take it. he was meticulously careful not to let his fingers brush against yours, a deliberate avoidance that felt more intimate than an actual touch. he snatched the drive, the cold metal clicking against his keyboard as he slotted it into the side of his terminal.

the silence returned, heavier this time, punctuated only by the aggressive clack of his fingers hitting the keys. you stood just a step behind his shoulder, your eyes tracking the reflection of the cascading blue data lines across the glass of his monitors. your heart was hammering a violent rhythm against your ribs, a wild animal trying to break free of your crisp white coat. you didn't know where to look, you didn't know what to do with your hands. you just stood there, drowning in the suffocating scent of his sterile soap and bitter espresso.

"it’s a localized token block." jake said, his eyes never leaving the screen, his fingers moving with a terrifyingly robotic speed. "outpatient didn't clear the analytics queue from tuesday. your department is sloppy."

the petty, defensive swipe hit you like a low blow, a sudden flash of the old undergrad jake who couldn't bear to let you have an inch of ground without indirectly reminding you that he was still number one. but somehow, this time it was really direct. a strange heat flared in your chest, melting a tiny fraction of your icy composure.

"our department is handling eighty intakes a day, jake." you murmured, keeping your face carefully blank, though your tone caught on a sharp edge. "we don't have the luxury of sitting in a quiet glass tower playing with algorithms all night. some of us are actually dealing with human beings."

jake’s fingers froze instantly over the keyboard. the sudden halt of the clicking was jarring, making the empty room feel entirely too small again. he didn't look up at the screen, and he didn't look back at you. he just stared at his own knuckles, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a long, ragged exhale.

"is that what you think this is?" he whispered. the venom was gone, replaced by a bleeding misery that made your stomach twist in a deeply uncomfortable way. "playing around?"

you swallowed hard, the cold knot of internal turmoil tightening until it was hard to draw a full breath. deep down, in the places you spent so much time trying to bury under clinical charts, you knew he wasn't playing. you knew he was suffocating there just as much as you had been suffocating in that humid bedroom. you knew you were both ghosts trying to pretend the haunting wasn't real. but admitting that meant letting the walls crumble, and if the walls crumbled, you wouldn't survive the night.

"i just need the file synced." you whispered back, your voice dropping into that polite detachment that probably drove him insane. "that's all i'm here for."

jake let out a breathy sound, a bitter excuse for a laugh. he finally turned his head, looking up at you from his slouched position in the heavy leather chair. from this close, beneath the harsh light of the lamp, you could see those dark bruises of exhaustion under his eyes. he looked so fragile it made your chest physically ache.

"you're so good at that." he murmured, his dark eyes searching your face with an agonizing intensity, looking for any crack in your mask. "the polite junior clinician. the perfect colleague. you look right at me and you don't even blink. how do you do it, y/n? how do you act like you didn't leave a total disaster behind you?"

"jake, please-"

"i stayed away from that floor for months now." he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly, the flat edge of his clinical persona fracturing completely in the quiet lab. "i checked the schedules. i took the back stairs. i did everything i could because i thought... i thought if i saw you, it would kill me. and then you walk into a briefing, look me in the eye, and tell the chief we're just old university acquaintances." he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face just inches away from your coat. "we didn't just go to university together, y/n." he whispered, his eyes wide, swimming with a raw mix of resentment and pure unadulterated longing. "and you know it."

your outside shell felt like it was fracturing, tiny cracks spreading across your entire composure as the sheer weight of his words pressed against you. you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to ask him why he was acting like the victim when he was the one who kept the perfect scores, the perfect path, the perfect building while you had to rebuild your entire mind from scratch. but the survival instinct — that icy, brilliant shield — held the pieces together at the absolute last second.

you took a small step backward, pulling yourself out of the circle of amber light, out of his immediate space. "the system log says the override is pending." you said, your voice remarkably level, light, and entirely devoid of any history, as if he hadn't just laid his ribs bare in front of you. you pointed a steady finger toward the glowing green progress bar on his monitor. "is it clear to eject?"

jake stared at you, his mouth parting just a fraction, looking a bit dizzy from the quiet rejection. the raw emotion in his eyes instantly curdled into a defeated vacancy. you had given him absolutely nowhere to put his anger. you had treated his bleeding heart like an inappropriate interruption to a data transfer. without another word, he reached out, clicked the safety eject button, and pulled the flash drive from the slot. he didn't look at you as he held it out, his hand perfectly still, his eyes fixed blindly on the cascading rows of code. "it's clear." he said flatly, his tone completely dropping back into that lower register, devoid of any warmth or friction.

"thank you, jake." you murmured softly. you took the drive, slipping it back into your pocket, and turned on your heel. your flats made that same lonely click against the polished concrete as you walked away from the alcove, leaving him sitting entirely alone in there, drowning in the silence you refused to break.

the second the weight of his presence was lifted, the fragile scaffolding of your composure didn't just crack — it completely crumbled. you hit the button for the fourth floor, your hand trembling so violently your fingernail clicked sharply against the plastic. you dropped your forehead against the cold stainless steel wall of the elevator, your breath coming in short hitches that fogged the metal right in front of your eyes. your heart was hammering a terrifying rhythm against your ribs, a loud thumping that felt less like a pulse and more like a physical betrayal. that was the part that made you want to scream. you had spent so much time convincing yourself that you were whole. you had sat through countless hours of silence in a tiny apartment, learning how to breathe through the memories, forcing yourself to believe that you had outgrown the wreckage of undergrad. he had come to your mind, of course — in the quiet space between sleep and waking, or when the smell of stale coffee hit a room just right. but you thought you had built an ocean between who you were then and who you were now.

yet, one look at him slouched under that lamp, one sound of his voice dropping into that gravelly register, and your body acted like it was still twenty, trapped on that freezing fire escape, completely unraveled by him. you hadn't grown at all. you had just built a very expensive, very fragile glass box around a fire that was still burning.

why was it beating so fast? you thought, your fingers curling into the fabric of your coat, desperately trying to steady the frantic rise and fall of your chest. you’re a clinician. you know the physiology of panic. force it down. breathe in for four. hold.

but your brain refused to follow the clinical rules. because louder than the panic was the sudden prickle of a deep confusion. you didn't even recognize the girl who had just spoken to him. where had that ice come from? when he had looked up at you, his eyes wide and swimming with that confusing gaze, everything inside you had screamed to reach out, to touch the sleeve of his dark sweater, to ask him if he was eating, if he was sleeping, if he was okay. but instead, your mouth had opened and delivered a series of perfectly timed, brutal rejections. you had treated his emotions like a system error.

you didn't fully understand why you were being like that. it was like your brain had split in two: one half dying to scream his name, and the other half operating with a robotic efficiency that felt entirely alien to you. you were protecting yourself, you knew that deep down, but the sheer coldness of your own voice scared you. you had turned into a monster just to keep him from seeing that you were still bleeding.

and then there was his anger. the elevator jolted as it passed the fifth floor, and a sudden wave of resentment washed through your veins, turning the cold panic into defensive fury. how dare he be mad at you? how dare he stand there in his high tower and act like you had packed your bags and walked away because you wanted to? he knew. he knew better than anyone in the world that you hadn't chosen to leave. you had been forced out. you had been completely shattered, reduced to nothing but a hollow shell while he got to keep the perfect scores, the perfect path, the prestigious analytics spot on the seventh floor. you had left because staying would have killed you. it was survival, pure and simple.

and yet, he was looking at you with those resentful eyes, accusing you of leaving a disaster behind, as if he hadn't been the one holding the match. it almost felt like he was angry because you weren't still broken. it felt like he was angry because you had dared to put on a white coat and heal yourself without his permission. which was absurd to think about, if you were honest. you couldn't possibly know what he was thinking anymore, since you barely knew what your own self was thinking at that point.

"you don't get to be the victim, jake." you whispered into the empty elevator, your voice shaking as an angry tear finally escaped, hot and stinging against your cheek. "you don't get to be the one who's hurt."

the elevator chime gave a soft ding as the doors slid open to the warm, safe, sage green corridors of the fourth floor. you wiped your face with an aggressive swipe of your sleeve, drawing your shoulders back and forcing your spine to go completely rigid once more. you stepped out into the quiet hallway, your mind a chaotic storm of confusion and unresolved history, entirely conscious of the silver drive heavy in your pocket.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the days continued anyway, like they always did. people still showed up to work carrying paper cups of coffee, the elevators still dinged every few minutes, patients still talked to you in your office about divorces and panic attacks and impossible childhoods. the seasons shifted almost lazily outside the hospital windows, the trees in the courtyard gradually surrendering their last amber leaves until only dark branches remained against the winter sky.

and somewhere inside all of that ordinary movement, your own life quietly continued growing around the wound. but it wasn't linear, because seeing jake like that had definitely affected you.

some mornings, you woke up convinced that you had finally left that version of yourself behind. you drove to work with the windows cracked open despite the cold, singing softly along to whatever song happened to be playing through the speakers, your fingers tapping absentmindedly against the steering wheel as the city slowly came to life around you. you would stop at the café two blocks from the hospital because the owner had started remembering your order, and there was something deeply comforting about hearing someone smile as they asked, "the usual?".

other mornings, you caught the faint smell of burnt coffee drifting from the staff lounge, and before you even understood why your chest had tightened, you were back inside that library. the old one. fluorescent lights humming overhead, rows of impossibly tall bookshelves, the constant clicking of keyboards echoing through the silence. jake, sitting across from you with one elbow resting against the table, completely oblivious to the fact that he had somehow become the center of your entire peripheral vision. your body remembered him before your mind ever had the chance to object.

and somehow, it happened constantly. someone staying late finishing documentation, someone quietly correcting a typo on one of your shared reports before you noticed it, someone absentmindedly pushing a mug toward you because they knew you had forgotten to eat lunch. the library. him.

you hated that place and you hated that person. you hated how something as ordinary as a shared document could still make your stomach twist. sometimes, while waiting for a patient's file to load, you found yourself staring at the blinking cursor on your screen. and all you could think about was another cursor, years ago, appearing underneath yours at two thirty seven in the morning.

lately, you had begun wondering if you were actually haunted by who you had been whenever he was around instead of just being haunted by him. that girl had lived every single day with her shoulders pulled too tightly together, measuring her own worth against numbers on a ranking board and believing exhaustion was something admirable. sometimes, sitting across from your own patients while they slowly untangled years of anxiety, you almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. you could explain the physiology of chronic stress without looking at your notes. you knew exactly what prolonged hypervigilance did to the brain. yet somehow, your own nervous system still reacted to memories of a university library like it was preparing for impact.

he wasn't even there, hadn't been for months. and still your heartbeat occasionally forgot what year it was.

but life kept insisting on happening anyway. lily had somehow decided you were incapable of eating lunch alone. she would appear outside your office almost every afternoon without fail, leaning dramatically against your doorframe.

"come on." she would sigh theatrically. "if you make me eat cafeteria pasta by myself one more time i'm reporting you to hr."

you always rolled your eyes, but you always went anyway.

daniel started saving you coffee whenever he was on early rounds. nurse may had stopped introducing you as "the new junior." somewhere along the way, you had simply become y/n. people knocked before entering your office because they respected your space. patients asked for you by name. and your bookshelf slowly filled with textbooks, sticky notes, and the tiny ceramic plants lily kept insisting made the room "less clinically depressing."

you even caught yourself laughing comfortably now, without a second thought. real laughter, the kind that reached your stomach before your brain had time to overthink whether it sounded strange. you smiled to yourself when you thought about it while walking down the hallway. even if he was on your mind way more than you would ever want to admit, maybe you were healing. and maybe healing wasn't dramatic after all, maybe it just looked like forgetting to be miserable for a few hours.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

by the time december settled over the city completely, the hospital had transformed. paper snowflakes hung crookedly from the reception desk. someone had wrapped ridiculous gold tinsel around nurse may's computer monitor. a tiny artificial christmas tree appeared in the staff lounge, decorated almost exclusively with anatomy themed ornaments someone from surgery found hilarious.

"hospital dinner next friday." lily dropped the announcement onto your desk one morning.

"mandatory?" you looked up from your notes.

"strongly encouraged." 

"which means mandatory."

"exactly." she grinned. "you're coming."

you instinctively opened your mouth to decline. the old version of you would have invented an excuse before anyone could ask twice. but you were trying to prove that girl wasn't carrying your life anymore.

"...okay." the word surprised even you.

lily blinked. "that's it?"

you shrugged, smiling into your paperwork. "i guess i can survive one dinner."

"daniel!" lily shouted immediately into the hallway. "she said yes!"

somewhere outside your office you heard daniel cheer dramatically. you couldn't help laughing, completely unaware that, three floors above you, another department had received the exact same invitation.

and just like that, friday arrived much faster than you expected. by six thirty, the winter sky had already dissolved into complete darkness, the city streets shimmering under the glow of christmas lights and the reflections of the afternoon rain. you stood in front of your apartment mirror for far longer than was probably necessary, one hand smoothing invisible wrinkles from the dark green dress you had bought months ago and never found a reason to wear. it wasn't particularly fancy, just soft knit fabric that hugged your waist comfortably, long sleeves, a modest neckline. adult, you supposed.

you looked... older. not older in the exhausted way you used to after pulling consecutive all nighters in the library until your eyes burned from staring at statistical outputs. just older in the quiet sense. like someone who paid rent without completely losing her mind every time the letter came. someone who remembered to buy groceries before running out of milk. someone who had somehow survived long enough to become a woman instead of the anxious university girl who always felt like she was desperately trying to catch up with everyone else.

for a long moment, you simply stared at your own reflection, because it still surprised you sometimes how unfamiliar your own face had become. there were fewer dark circles beneath your eyes now and your shoulders no longer lived permanently curled toward your ears. you smiled more easily, more lived in.

your phone buzzed against the bathroom counter.

lily: if you bail i'm literally coming to your apartment

despite yourself, you laughed. "alright." you murmured to the empty apartment. "i'm coming."

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the restaurant occupied the renovated top floor of an old brick warehouse overlooking the river, all warm amber lighting and exposed wooden beams that smelled faintly of cedar and wine. somewhere in the corner, someone had hired a jazz trio to play soft christmas standards that disappeared beneath dozens of overlapping conversations.

the outpatient team had already claimed two long tables near the windows as lily spotted you almost instantly.

"she actually came!" she gasped dramatically, standing up so quickly she nearly knocked over her wine glass.

"i said i would."

"i genuinely didn't believe you." 

"that's a little offensive." 

"i believe it's completely accurate."

daniel looked up from across the table. "look who's voluntarily socializing."

"just... both of you, calm down." you said with a big smile plastered on your face.

"too late." you rolled your eyes, sliding into the empty chair between nurse may and lily.

somehow, the evening unfolded with surprising ease. there was a lot of wine and far too much bread before dinner. someone from physiotherapy confessed to accidentally walking into the wrong patient's family meeting three months earlier and somehow staying through the entire conversation before realizing. even nurse may laughed hard enough that she had to remove her glasses to wipe her eyes. you found yourself laughing too, to the point it left your stomach sore.

at one point, daniel disappeared only to return balancing six tiny desserts because “the kitchen made extras”, as lily insisted everyone rank them. you looked around the table, watching everyone interrupt each other with easy familiarity, and something inside your chest settled.

this was yours. not borrowed, not temporary. for years, you had imagined adulthood as some distant destination where everyone magically stopped feeling afraid. instead, it turned out to look like shared desserts, inside jokes, coworkers arguing over cheesecake. people instinctively saving you the seat beside them because it had simply become your seat. you hadn't fully realized how lonely you had once been until loneliness quietly stopped being your default.

you reached for your wine glass, smiling to yourself, as you heard the restaurant door open again. a burst of freezing december air swept briefly across the room as another large group stepped inside, voices overlapping while they shrugged snow from their coats.

"the research team finally made it." someone near the front called out.

your smile didn't disappear immediately, simply stalling as the glass stopped halfway to your lips. before you even looked, something deep inside your body had already recognized the shift. the old instinct returned with terrifying speed, making your shoulders stiffen and your heartbeat stumble. it wasn't logic, it wasn't reason. it was the same invisible thread that had once taught your nervous system to locate him before your eyes ever did.

slowly, almost against your own will, you turned your head. the research department filtered inside in small clusters, shrugging wool coats off their shoulders and stamping the december cold from their shoes as laughter spilled ahead of them. someone was already apologizing for how late they were. another person was carrying three bottles of wine balanced awkwardly against their chest while everyone argued over where they were supposed to sit.

for a brief, irrational second, you almost convinced yourself he hadn't come. your eyes skimmed over unfamiliar faces. someone from neurology, anna from statistics, dr. cho, another resident you vaguely recognized from the briefing.

and then, there he was. he had stopped just inside the entrance, one hand still wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag, quietly waiting for everyone else to move before he stepped further into the restaurant. he never really had been much of a loud entrance, as he had never had to do that for people to look at him. even now, he instinctively lingered toward the back of the group, waiting for everyone else to find their seats before quietly slipping into one of the empty chairs near the opposite end of the restaurant. someone from cardiology immediately reached over to steal his coat, draping it over the back of another chair before he could protest. another coworker slid a glass of red wine into his hand with an exaggerated grin.

"about time you showed up, sim."

"traffic." he answered simply.

"you've been saying traffic for two years."

jake only gave the smallest shrug before taking a slow sip from his glass, his attention already drifting toward whatever conversation dr. cho had started beside him.

you looked away almost immediately. or at least, you tried to, because for some reason it was embarrassingly difficult. your eyes kept wandering back toward the other side of the room without your permission, catching tiny glimpses between shoulders and half empty wine bottles.

he looked tired, painfully so. even sitting down, his posture carried that same quiet collapse you had noticed since that day at the hospital, his broad shoulders rounded forward as if the weight of the last years had physically settled across his back.

for the first hour, the two of you became experts at pretending the other didn't exist. you laughed with lily, he spoke quietly with his team. you reached for another piece of bread, he accepted another glass of wine. the restaurant buzzed louder around you as more bottles appeared across the tables, conversations dissolving into overlapping stories that no one bothered to finish.

someone convinced the jazz trio to play something more upbeat. chairs scraped across the wooden floor, departments slowly blurring together. and somewhere between the third glass of wine and dessert, something shifted. it was so subtle you almost convinced yourself you had imagined it.

"...that's absolutely not what happened." jake suddenly laughed as you heard his voice. just a short, genuine laugh that escaped him before he seemed to remember himself, one hand instinctively coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose as if he was almost embarrassed by the sound.

your stomach tightened immediately. before you could stop yourself, your eyes wandered back across the room. he looked lighter, only slightly. the exhaustion hadn't disappeared. the dark circles were still there, his shoulders still carried that familiar collapse, and he still looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in months. but the tension around his face had loosened and his posture wasn't so rigid anymore. the wine glass sat forgotten in one hand while the other moved absentmindedly through his hair, and every now and then another small smile slipped past whatever wall he had been holding up all evening.

it was so fleeting, so painfully familiar. for a terrifying moment, you could almost see him again. not the hollow man from the seventh floor, but the boy from the library. the one who used to lean back in his chair after proving an entire lecture wrong. the one whose eyes quietly brightened whenever a discussion became interesting enough to make him forget everyone else was in the room.

your chest ached, because for the first time in months, he didn't just look tired. he looked like himself.

"okay, okay." anna was sitting beside him as she nudged his shoulder with hers. "tell them about the python incident."

jake immediately covered part of his face with one hand. "absolutely not."

"you literally crashed the whole server." 

"temporarily."

"for six hours." 

"still temporarily."

more laughter. she reached over and shoved his shoulder. he shoved hers back, gently. the kind of thoughtless physical familiarity that only existed between people who had spent enough time together. you stared for one second too long, something ugly twisting unexpectedly inside your chest. it wasn't anger, it wasn't even jealousy. not exactly.

in the blink of an eye, he smiled. really smiled. without thinking, your fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, the feeling arriving before you could name it. sharp, old, humiliatingly familiar.

it wasn't that anna was beautiful, it wasn't even that they seemed particularly close, you thought. it was something much quieter than that. watching him from across the room suddenly felt exactly like sitting several rows behind him during undergrad. there he was, surrounded by people, responding effortlessly. moving through conversations with that strange, quiet ease you had spent years trying to understand.

and there you were, watching again. your stomach twisted, and it was ridiculous. you weren't twenty anymore, you weren't measuring yourself against the people around him. you had your own table now, your own coworkers, your own life. lily was halfway through telling daniel an impossibly dramatic story beside you, nurse may was arguing with someone from emergency medicine over whether tiramisu counted as a proper dessert, and three people had already saved you a seat without even asking.

you belonged there, you knew you did. so why did your body suddenly forget? why did one glimpse of him smiling make every old insecurity crawl quietly back beneath your skin? it reminded you of every library walk where he somehow managed to make everyone else laugh before answering your questions with impossible seriousness. every hallway where he had effortlessly exchanged conversations with strangers before turning toward you with that unreadable expression that always made your heart start sprinting.

every moment you had wondered why is it always different with me?

the thought slipped into your mind so naturally it frightened you, although it wasn't a new one. it was actually an old thought you had spent years burying beneath degrees, rent payments, patient notes, and carefully constructed adulthood. but apparently, it had never really left.

you took a slow sip of your wine, letting the heavy liquid burn softly down your throat until the glass was nearly empty. you needed the alcohol to work a little faster. you needed it to dull the sharp edge that had taken over your body the second he walked through the door.

lily leaned into your space, completely oblivious to the quiet storm inside your head, her face flushed red from three generous glasses of cabernet. she clinked her glass against yours with enough drunken enthusiasm to spill a few dark droplets onto the wooden table.

"to surviving a full year of institutionalized chaos!" she announced, her speech slurring just enough to prove she was well past her limit.

"to survival." you echoed softly, forcing a small smile that felt a little too loose around the edges.

as the night stretched past eleven, the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted. the waiters cleared away the heavy ceramic dinner plates, replacing them with seemingly bottomless carafes of wine, amber glasses of bourbon, and small plates of shared desserts. the jazz trio packed up their instruments, leaving behind a warm hum of overlapping voices, clinking crystal, and unfiltered laughter.

the invisible walls between the departments finally began to dissolve. chairs scraped across the wooden floor as people stood up to stretch, drifting toward other conversations. dr. cho carried two open bottles of red over from the research table, pulling a chair right next to daniel, while a few junior analysts squeezed in near lily. before you fully understood how it had happened, the distinct tables had merged into one giant, chaotic circle.

jake was sitting four seats away from you. he had moved with dr. cho, carrying his glass of whiskey, his coat long forgotten over the back of a distant chair. his dark charcoal sweater was pulled up slightly at the forearms, revealing the sharp lines of his wrists. the alcohol had fully softened him, too. the rigid posture he usually wore like an armor had loosened into something fluid and relaxed. he was leaning back, one ankle resting over his opposite knee, his dark eyes glinting under the warm overhead lanterns as he listened to dr. cho speak.

he still wasn't looking at you directly, but he didn't have to. the air between you felt thick, charged with an invisible static that made your skin prickle every time he shifted in his chair.

"alright, listen up." dr. vance announced, standing up at the head of the merged table and tapping his fork against his water glass. his face was bright red, his tie loosened at the collar. "it is officially past midnight, which means the formal portion of this dinner is dead. before we all start ordering cabs, we're doing the annual game."

a collective groan rippled through the table, followed instantly by boisterous laughter.

"no, listen." dr. vance insisted, waving a hand. "two truths and a lie: clinical training edition. three statements about something embarrassing or unprofessional you did during undergrad or residency. the table votes on the lie."

"this is an hr trap." daniel called out, grinning into his beer. "i refuse to self-incriminate."

the game started off fast and messy, fueled by the sheer volume of alcohol everyone had consumed over the last four hours. daniel confessed to falling asleep inside a sterile supply closet for five hours during an overnight er shift. nurse may admitted she had once accidentally thrown away an entire box of research samples in her first week as a nurse and spent two hours digging through the hospital dumpster to retrieve them.

the room echoed with laughter, glasses sloshing, people shouting out guesses and arguing over who was the worst liar. you laughed along, feeling the heavy warmth of the wine creeping deeper into your veins, softening the sharp corners of your mind until your chest felt pleasantly numb.

and then the rotation reached the far side of the circle.

"sim." dr. vance pointed a finger down the table. "you're up. give us something good. the analytics prodigy must have screwed up at least once in his life."

jake let out a low chuckle, a sound so smooth and gravelly it sent a traitorous wave of heat straight down your spine. he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, looking down for a long moment before tilting his head up. he looked loose, effortless, and entirely too handsome, the dark fringe of his hair falling slightly over his forehead. you hated it so much.

"fine." jake said, his voice carrying easily over the quieted table. "one: i once completely slept through a third year observational trial and woke up with my forehead stuck to my own diagnostic notes." a few people tutted in disbelief. "two." he continued, a faint smirk touching the corner of his lips as he glanced casually toward dr. cho. "i accidentally corrupted a full semester's worth of conditioning data because i let an uncontrolled variable slip into the trial."

"oof, painful." daniel muttered, taking a drink.

"three." jake said softly, swirling his glass, his voice dropping into that magnetic register that used to hold whole lecture halls captive. "i spent an entire night locked inside the third floor library stacks because i refused to leave until i solved a statistical anomaly."

the table immediately erupted into loud debate.

"one!" lily called out instantly. "you would never sleep through a trial, jake."

"no, the library." anna chimed in from beside him, leaning in close enough that her shoulder brushed his sweater, smiling up at him with drunken fondness. "jake wouldn't need to stay a whole night there just to solve that."

jake didn't answer right away. he just sat there, holding his whiskey, letting the smirk linger on his face as he let everyone throw out their guesses. he was clearly enjoying the easy attention, looking every bit like the charming boy from undergrad who always held all the answers.

you sat quietly, your fingers coiled loosely around your glass. the alcohol in your blood was humming softly, stripping away the careful adult mask you had worn all evening. you knew the answer, and you knew it with a devastating certainty. you remembered those third floor library stacks. you remembered the rain against the tall windows, the stacked manuals, and the way he had sat across from you, staring at a set of results that refused to neatly align with his theories. but it hadn't only been a statistical anomaly he was trying to solve. it had been an argument with you. a night where his logic had completely failed him, where his careful control had cracked under the weight of something he couldn't measure or code.

and you remembered the conditioning trial, too. there hadn't been an uncontrolled variable.

you didn't shout. you just leaned back slightly in your chair, your voice soft, almost offhand, as if you were merely offering a passing observation about lab methodology.

"it's two." you murmured into the lull of the conversation. you were clearly drunker than you thought, because sober, you would have bitten your tongue raw before saying anything that publicly linked your name to jake's. you were the one who had built the wall between you in the first place, forcing the silence on the distance. but watching him sit there — so relaxed, giving away his quiet charm to everyone else after all this time — a petty needle twisted under your skin. you needed to prove, if only to him, that despite the cold front, you still held the blueprint to who he actually was. that no one else at this table knew him deeper than you did.

jake’s head snapped toward you. the lazy smirk on his face vanished in a single second. the relaxed posture melted away, his broad frame going rigidly still as his dark eyes locked onto yours across the small gap separating your chairs.

"what makes you say that, y/n?" dr. vance asked, looking amused, taking a slow sip of his drink.

you didn't break jake's gaze. you offered an indifferent shrug, your face remarkably calm, light, and perfectly unbothered, though your pulse was thumping a rapid beat in your throat. you let him see the quiet weight in your eyes — a message meant exclusively for him, completely invisible to everyone else at the table.

"because his data is always clean." you said softly, your tone smooth and conversational. "he doesn't let variables slip in by accident. he only abandons a trial when he realizes he can't control the outcome."

a light chuckle went around your side of the table. "damn, spoken like a true former lab mate." daniel joked, taking another sip of his beer, completely missing the radioactive underlying current. "she's got your number, sim."

dr. cho laughed softly, clapping jake on the shoulder. "she's right, jake! you never make reckless mistakes in methodology. you just scrap the whole project when it gets complicated!"

the rest of the table laughed along, accepting the comment as nothing more than a witty jab at his well known academic perfectionism.

but jake didn't laugh. he sat completely frozen, his fingers tightening around his whiskey glass until his knuckles turned a sharp white. the effortless charm he had been displaying all evening was completely gone, stripped away by two quiet sentences that no one else in the room understood.

he stared at you across the dark wood, his dark eyes wide and burning with an intensity that made the rest of the noisy restaurant fade into complete background noise. to the rest of the hospital staff, you had just made a clever joke about his undergrad work ethic. but to jake, you had just looked him dead in the eye and told him that you knew exactly who he was.

the game dragged to a messy, awkward close. jake eventually confirmed the lie with a quiet nod, forcing a faint smile that vanished the second people stopped looking at him. after that, he completely checked out. he just sat back in his chair, staring into the ice melting in his glass, letting the drunken chatter flow right over him.

you noticed every single second of it, of course you did. and you hated yourself for it. you hated that even after four glasses of wine, your brain was still wired to track every micro-shift in his posture.

by one in the morning, the restaurant was finally emptying out. people were slurring affectionate goodbyes by the coat rack, making ridiculous promises for weekend plans no one would keep. lily had disappeared to the bathroom with two pediatric nurses twenty minutes ago.

your head was swimming, your chest tight and claustrophobic from the heat of the room and the great amount of alcohol in your body, so you pushed open the side door and walked outside. the december air hit you like a physical punch. it ripped the warmth straight from your skin, replacing it with a freezing draft that burned your throat and made your eyes water. you leaned your forearms against the cold iron railing, staring down at the churning water from the river below, letting the cold air try to sober you up.

the heavy metal door behind you creaked open, then slammed shut against the frame.

you didn't even have to turn around. the smell of cold wool, dark rain, and bitter whiskey reached you before he even took a step.

"you just had to do that, didn't you?" jake said. his voice wasn't gentle. it wasn't quiet or tragically polite. it was rough, raspy, and thick with alcohol, carrying a defensive bite that cut straight through the freezing wind.

you slowly turned around, resting your back against the iron railing. he was standing four feet away under the dull yellow bulb of the emergency light. his coat was unbuttoned, his dark hair messy and blowing in the wind, his hands jammed aggressively into his pockets. his face was flushed from the cold and the whiskey, his dark eyes wide, bloodshot, and completely stripped of that calm composure he had spent all evening hiding behind.

"do what, jake?" you asked, your voice trembling from the cold, the wine and the anxiety, but your chin tilted up, refusing to back down.

"back there." he snapped, taking an erratic step toward you. "the little commentary on my data. you just couldn't help yourself, could you? you had to sit there in front of the whole department and make sure everyone knew you had some secret, superior insight into how my brain works."

a sharp laugh escaped your throat, turning to mist in the freezing night. "are you serious?" you hissed, stepping out of the shadow of the railing, right into his space. "you sat at that table for two hours giving everyone else your charming little routine, telling a cute little story about undergrad like it was some funny glitch in your pristine record. you were rewriting it, jake. you sat there acting like it was all just lab work, like it was nothing!"

"because it has to be!" he shouted, his voice cracking violently, the loud sound echoing off the wet brick walls of the alley. he looked completely unraveled, his jaw clenching so hard you could hear his teeth grind together, the sheer chaos of his state finally spilling over. "you think i want to stand in front of twenty people and talk about how it actually was?" he rasped, his eyes burning into yours with a terrifying intensity. "you think i want dr. vance or anna or daniel looking at me and knowing that i spent years obsessed with you? you think i want a room full of coworkers knowing that you're the reason i haven't slept a full night in-?"

the admission hit the cold air like a physical blow. the breath vanished from your lungs, your heart hammering a wild beat against your ribs. "what the fuck are you saying, jake-"

"no, y/n, listen to me." he choked out, quieter now. "you act like you're the only one who got wrecked. you stand here looking at me like i'm some cold, unfeeling bastard who walked away without a second thought. but you're the one who ran! you packed your bags, you left the town, you deleted your number, and you built this whole neat new life where you get to pretend i was just a bad habit you outgrew!"

"i ran because i had no choice!" you screamed back, tears finally spilling over your lashes, scalding hot against your frozen cheeks as you forced yourself not to punch his chest. the alcohol was making your entire body shake, dissolving whatever polite restraint you had left. "i also ran because staying near you was making me lose my fucking mind. and i genuinely do not understand why you would even look at me like... like i broke your heart!"

"because you did!" jake roared as he surged forward, his hands flying out to grip the freezing iron railing on either side of your head. he caged you in completely, his tall frame blocking out the streetlights, his chest heaving erratically just inches from yours. "you were breaking it every single day! and you're still doing it, y/n."

he stopped, his breathing coming in ragged hitches that tore through the quiet night air. the sudden, explosive burst of anger seemed to completely drain him, leaving nothing behind but a hollow exhaustion. his broad shoulders slumped forward and he dropped his head, staring blankly at the metal grate beneath your boots as if he couldn't bear to look at your face anymore.

"i can't do this." he whispered, his voice dropping into a ruined scrape that almost sounded like a plea. he squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles turning an intense white against the black iron. "i can't sit at a dinner table and watch you laugh with everybody else. i can't watch you build a life that i'm not allowed to touch. and i definitely can't sit there while you drop little pieces of our past into the conversation like it's just some lighthearted trivia."

"why?" you choked out. your hands moved entirely on their own, pulling out of your warm pockets to grab the heavy wool lapels of his open coat. you twisted the fabric into your fists, holding onto him because the ground beneath you suddenly felt like it was violently tilting. "why does it hurt you so much?" you begged, your voice shattering on the last word, the sharp december wind stinging the tear tracks on your face as you forced him to finally look at you.

jake pulled his head back just an inch, his hand sliding down to wrap his cold fingers tightly around your wrist, squeezing until the pulse thumping against his palm was impossible to ignore. he stared down into your eyes with an expression of unadulterated ruin — his dark irises wide, bloodshot, and completely devoid of any remaining pride.

"because every time you open your mouth and mention back then..." he whispered, his voice cracking on a painful exhale. "it proves you remember everything. it proves it wasn't a bad dream i made up in my head to keep myself awake at night. you were real. we were real."

he swallowed hard, the sharp line of his throat bobbing as a furious tear finally escaped his lashes, tracking down the high curve of his pale cheek. he didn't wipe it away. he didn't care that he was completely unraveling under that dull yellow light, bleeding out in front of the only person who had ever known how to dismantle him.

"and knowing that you remember it..." he choked out, his chest heaving as he pulled your trapped hand up, pressing your palm flat against the erratic pounding over his own heart. "and knowing you still walked away... knowing you're standing here right now, alive and whole and surviving just fine without me, tells me that i'm the only one who didn't make it out of that library alive."

the frantic rhythm of his heart beating against your palm felt like a live wire. it burned through the freezing cold, through the thick haze of the wine, straight into your bones. you stared at him, at the single tear tracking down his cheek, and the sheer gravity of what he had just confessed threatened to crush you completely.

you couldn't breathe. the alleyway spun around you, the ground tipping dangerously beneath your boots. if you had been sober, you might have folded into him. you might have let the grief swallow you both whole. but the alcohol in your bloodstream was a vicious thing, magnifying your terror as much as your longing. if you believed him now — if you let yourself lean into this unguarded version of him — you would be gambling everything. because tomorrow, when he was sober, he could take it all back. and that would kill you. you wouldn't survive a second heartbreak.

"no." you breathed out, your voice trembling so violently you could barely form the word. you tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was iron tight, his fingers digging into your wrist like he was drowning.

"jake, stop." you pleaded, shaking your head frantically. "stop talking. you're drunk."

"so are you." he rasped, refusing to let go, his dark eyes searching your face with a desperate starvation.

"which is exactly why we can't do this!" you cried, finally wrenching your hand out of his grasp with enough force that you stumbled a half step backward, your shoes slipping slightly on the icy grate.

the sudden loss of contact made the freezing december air rush back in, biting viciously at your skin. you wrapped your arms tightly around your own waist, shivering violently, trying to hold your own ribcage together.

"we're drunk, jake." you choked out, the tears freezing as they fell down your cheeks. "you've had god knows how much whiskey, my head is completely spinning, and you're standing out here in the freezing cold telling me that i destroyed you. what am i supposed to do with that? what do you want me to say?"

"i want you to believe me!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in a sudden burst of frustration, his balance wavering just a fraction. he ran a shaking hand fiercely through his windblown hair, looking entirely lost. "i want you to stop acting like i'm making this up! y-you always fucking do this, y/n."

"but how can i believe you?!" you yelled back, your chest heaving, the raw truth finally ripping its way out of your throat. "you want me to believe this? now? after years of complete silence? you want me to accept this just because we had a few drinks and your perfect pride finally slipped?"

jake flinched. the accusation hit him squarely, stripping away the frantic energy and leaving him looking incredibly hollow. "you think this is just the alcohol?" he asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet rasp.

"i think the alcohol is the only reason you're talking at all." you shot back, your voice breaking on a sob you couldn't swallow down. "tomorrow morning, the whiskey is going to wear off. and you're going to go right back to being the untouchable sim jake. you're going to walk past me in that damn hallway and you are going to regret every single word you just said."

"that's bullshit, y/n, and you know it." he snapped, taking another unsteady step toward you, the anger flaring back up in his dark eyes.

"is it?" you challenged, stepping back until your spine hit the brick wall of the alley, leaving nowhere else to run. "we've spent months treating each other like strangers. you flagged my files, i ignored you in meetings, you looked right through me. and now you expect me to just... what? forget everything because you had too much bourbon and decided to feel sorry for yourself?"

jake stopped dead in his tracks. he looked at you for an agonizing moment, the mist curling between your bodies in the freezing dark. the anger in his face slowly died, replaced by a devastating defeat. he looked like a man who had just played his very last card, only to realize the game had been over for years.

"you really think that little of me." he whispered. it wasn't a question. it was a surrender.

"i think we're both a mess." you cried softly, swiping angrily at your wet cheeks, though the tears just kept coming. "i think we're completely wrecked. and i think if we keep doing this tonight, if we keep standing out here tearing each other apart while we can barely stand straight, we're going to permanently destroy whatever functional pieces we have left."

jake didn't argue. he didn't surge forward again, and he didn't try to touch you. he just stood there in the cold, his coat blowing in the wind, staring at you with an expression so hopelessly sad it made your stomach physically hurt. the alcohol was still humming loudly in your veins, making the silence between you feel dizzying and thick. there was no resolution, there was no comfort. there was just the bitter cold, the heavy smell of whiskey, and the terrifying realization that you were both bleeding out, and neither of you had any idea how to stop it.

the heavy metal door behind jake suddenly flew open with a loud clang, the sharp sound slicing through the suffocating silence like a knife.

"hey! there you guys- whoa." daniel staggered out onto the small space, his tie completely undone and hanging loosely around his neck, a lopsided drunken grin plastered across his flushed face. he was holding a half empty bottle of cheap champagne by the neck, his balance wavering just enough that he had to grab the doorframe to steady himself. he was completely oblivious to the wreckage he had just walked into.

"man, it is like... polar vortex out here." daniel slurred, shivering dramatically as he looked between the two of you. his eyes were unfocused, blinking slowly in the dim yellow glow of the emergency light. "what are you guys doing? having a secret research meeting without me? that's... that's academic betrayal, sim."

the snap of the reality shift was instantaneous, violent, and physically sickening. the exact second daniel’s boots hit the metal grating, the raw version of jake vanished. it was like watching a shutter slam down over a window. his broad shoulders instantly went rigid, his jaw locking into a tight line as he took a deliberate step back from you, pulling himself out of your space entirely.

he turned his head away, his long fingers flying up to aggressively rub at his eyes, wiping away the trace of that furious tear before daniel could track it. when he dropped his hand, his face was a mask of unreadable exhaustion. but it was clumsy, frayed around the edges by the sheer volume of whiskey in his system.

you froze against the brick wall, your heart slamming frantically against your ribs. your hands were still shaking so violently you had to shove them deep into your coat pockets just to hide the tremors. you choked down a ragged sob, the taste of wine and bile burning the back of your throat as you forced your face into something that hopefully resembled sobriety.

"we were just getting some air, daniel." you said, your voice coming out thin.

"air? you're gonna freeze your liquid assets off." daniel chuckled, entirely amused by his own terrible joke. he staggered a step closer, swinging the champagne bottle loosely. "everyone's bailing. you guys want to split an uber to the north side?"

"i'm fine." jake cut in. his voice was a low rasp, entirely stripped of the roaring anger from moments ago, but carrying a vibrating tension that made your chest ache. he wouldn't look at you. he kept his dark eyes fixed firmly on the collar of daniel's shirt, his hands jammed back into his unbuttoned coat. "i'm walking." jake muttered, his speech just slightly thicker than usual, betraying how drunk he actually was.

"walking? sim, it's literally freezing rain." daniel laughed, reaching out to cloddishly pat jake's shoulder. "don't be a hero. come on."

"i said i'm walking, daniel." jake snapped. the sudden edge in his tone made daniel blink, his drunken grin faltering for a fraction of a second as he sensed the radioactive field of tension vibrating between the two of you.

jake didn't wait for a response. he finally turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto your face for one final second. there was no anger left in his gaze. there was only that same hopeless ruin. a quiet warning that everything you had just done out here was going to follow you both into the morning.

he blew past daniel, his heavy shoulder brushing yours as he pushed open the metal door and vanished back into the warmth of the restaurant, leaving nothing behind but the fading scent of cold wool and bitter bourbon. the door clicked shut.

"man…" daniel muttered, shaking his head slowly as he took a swing from the champagne bottle. "he is always so... intense. i don't know how you survived being his research partner, y/n. guy needs to learn how to relax."

you didn't answer. you couldn't. you just turned back to the iron railing, gripping the freezing metal until your knuckles ached, staring blindly out at the river below. the hot tears were finally flowing freely now, spilling over your lashes and biting into your cold skin, but daniel just thought you were shivering from the wind.

you were entirely unraveled, the heavy haze of the wine making the ache in your chest feel double its size. you knew you were right. tomorrow the sun would come up and the hospital walls would turn that sterile, sage green again. and neither of you had any idea how to survive the wreckage of tonight.

the ride home in the back of daniel’s uber was a sickening blur. daniel wouldn't stop talking about the department's upcoming budget review, his voice a slurred drone that did nothing to drown out the looping thoughts in your own head. you pressed your cheek against the freezing glass of the window, staring at the blurred streetlights, your hand shoved deep into your coat pocket. your wrist still ached where jake’s fingers had clamped down, and your palm felt hot, branded by the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.

i’m the only one who didn't make it out of that library alive.

the words felt like a physical weight on your chest, keeping you awake until the sky turned a bruised gray.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

when you went into the hospital the next day, the walls you had spent years building felt incredibly thin. you spent your morning sessions sitting across from people, trying to help them untangle their lives while your own mind kept drifting to the floors above you. jake was up there, tucked away in the data lab, probably staring at spreadsheets and mapping out human choices into predictable numbers. you knew how his mind worked — he used logic to control everything, hiding behind data until his emotions were buried too deep to find.

you ran into him on monday by the elevators. he was carrying a stack of reports, his lab coat buttoned all the way up, looking every bit like the detached, analytical researcher everyone expected him to be. when he saw you, his posture went completely rigid. you watched his eyes drop to your hands, then snap back up to your face, his jaw tight.

"morning." he said. his voice was clipped, perfectly formal. he gave you a professional nod as the elevator doors opened, stepping inside without waiting to see if you were getting on too.

he was overcompensating. you knew it, and he knew you knew it. it was a textbook display of emotional avoidance, and the deliberate distance made your blood boil. for the next three days, you both played the game perfectly. you over-corrected your posture when you passed his lab, and he looked straight through you when he came down to the clinical floor to drop off files. you were both weaponizing your training, pulling away with a fierce intentionality because admitting that that that night had happened meant admitting how completely unsafe you were around each other.

by thursday night, the hospital felt entirely claustrophobic.

a massive winter storm had hit the city, coating the streets in black ice and causing a power surge that knocked out the central servers. because the digital network was down, the department was forced to rely on physical records for the emergency cases coming in from the icy roads.

at eleven o'clock, you were down in the basement archives — a narrow, windowless vault filled with rows of heavy steel shelves containing years of old patient files and intake sheets. the air down there was freezing, smelling heavily of old paper, dust, and ozone from the backup generators humming faintly through the vents.

you were standing near the back of the longest aisle, your fingers stiff as you flicked through a drawer, trying to find a specific baseline evaluation.

the heavy electronic lock on the vault door suddenly clicked, the sound echoing loudly in the silence. you didn't turn around. you forced yourself to keep looking at the files, even as the slow thud of boots grew closer, accompanied by the distinct scent of cedar and the bitter edge of the black coffee he always drank when he was working late.

jake stopped at the entrance of your aisle. he had taken off his lab coat, wearing just a dark sweater with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. he looked exhausted, his hair messy from where he had clearly been running his fingers through it, and his dark eyes were shadowed with fatigue.

"vance sent me down." jake said, his voice a rough baritone that felt entirely too loud in the cramped space. "the emergency intake needs the comparative data for the patient in bed four. i told him i'd find the physical chart."

"it's in row c." you said, your voice tight, keeping your back to him as you shoved a file back into the drawer. "this is row e. you're in the wrong section, jake."

he didn't move. you could hear his steady breathing, a heavy contrast to the frantic skipping of your own pulse. "i know what row i'm in, y/n." he murmured.

the sheer stubbornness in his tone made you snap. you dropped your hands from the cabinet and turned around, your spine hitting the cold metal structure behind you. "then why are you standing here?" you asked, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound detached. "we established a pattern this week, jake. we do the professional nods. we don't look at each other. it was working fine."

"it wasn't working fine." he rasped, taking a slow, deliberate step into the aisle. the space was so narrow that his broad shoulders nearly brushed the shelves on either side. "you've been watching me every time i walk into a room. i can feel you calculating the distance from across the hallway, y/n. you're looking at me like i'm a clinical problem you need to solve."

"and what are you doing?" you challenged, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, trying to ignore how his physical proximity was suddenly making the air feel thick and warm. "you're pretending that if you just keep your lab coat buttoned up and stare at your data sheets long enough, you can erase what you said to me the other night.”

jake stopped just two feet away from you. his height completely blocked out the low light from the main vault corridor, casting a long shadow over your body. he looked down at you, his jaw clenching so hard a small muscle twitched in his cheek.

"i can't erase it." he whispered, his speech just a fraction slower than usual, thick with the weight of a week's worth of insomnia. "that's the whole damn problem. i've spent five days trying to look at my work, and all i see is how much i want to touch you."

"don't… don’t fucking say that." you breathed, a sudden wave of panic hitting your chest. you tried to push past him, your shoulder catching his chest as you attempted to navigate the narrow space, but he didn't move an inch. he was a wall of solid heat. "jake, let me out. it's just the stress from the storm, we're both tired and-"

"stop making excuses." he growled, his hand snapping out to grip the edge of the shelf right beside your neck. his fingers flexed against the cold steel, his knuckles turning white. he leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours, his dark eyes wide and dangerous. "and stop running from me. you're doing the exact same thing you always do. the second things get real, you pull back and look for an exit."

"because staying here ruins me!" you hissed back, your hands coming up to press against his shoulders, not to pull him closer, but to frantically hold him at bay. you could feel the hard line of his collarbone beneath the wool of his sweater, the heat of his skin burning through the fabric into your palms. "you think you're the only one who's terrified? i spend all day trying to keep myself together, and the minute i look at you, i completely lose my mind. we are a bad idea, jake."

"i don't care." he choked out, his voice cracking violently on the words. he took that final half step, completely eliminating the remaining distance between you. his chest pressed flush against your hands, pushing against your resistance until your back was pinned flat against the metal cabinet. he didn't touch you with his hands yet, as they were still gripping the shelves on either side of your head, caging you in completely. but his entire body was a suffocating pressure against yours.

you let out a broken gasp, your chin tilting up involuntarily as his face dropped into the hollow of your neck. his breath was hot, fast, and smelling of coffee, fanning across your sensitive skin and making a violent shiver tear through your entire frame.

"tell me to go to row c." he whispered fiercely against your skin, his lips brushing the column of your throat as he spoke, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make your knees go weak. "say you don't want this, and i'll walk away. i'm giving you the choice."

your fingers twitched against his shoulders, your nails digging deep into the thick fabric of his sweater. you wanted to push him away. you wanted to save yourself from the inevitable wreckage that was coming. but the physical reality of him — the weight of his body, the desperate sound of his breathing — was a hunger you had been suppressing for so much time.

"i hate you." you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his forehead lean heavily against yours, his dark hair brushing your brow.

"i know." jake rasped, his hand finally leaving the metal shelf to wrap his cold fingers tightly around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. "i know."

for a fraction of a second, nobody moved. the space between your lips was a vacuum, thick with the smell of damp wool and the metallic hum of the archive basement. his dark eyes searched yours, wide and bloodshot, looking for a single reason to stop — a slight pull of your chin, a tensing of your spine, anything. but you didn't move, you couldn't. the lie had run its course, and the devastating weight of it seemed to leave both of you suspended in mid air. your thumb twitched against the knit of his sweater, a subconscious permission that he caught instantly.

the shift was sudden and terrifying. the fragile safety of the quiet room fractured down the middle as jake’s grip on your neck tightened, his control completely evaporating into the cold air.

the kiss was violent. it wasn't gentle, it wasn't a soft reconciliation. instead, it was an angry collision of two people who had been starving in the dark for years.

he shoved you backward, your hips hitting the edge of the cabinet hard as he crowded his entire weight into you, caging you between his body and the metal. his hands ripped themselves from yours, one flying to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling fiercely into your hair to tilt your head back, while his other hand gripped your waist so tightly it would leave bruises by morning.

you moaned into his mouth, a desperate sound, your hands flying up to tear at the front of his sweater. you needed the barrier gone. you needed to feel the heat of his skin against yours to prove he was real, that this wasn't another cruel dream your brain had manufactured in the quiet hours of the night.

"y/n." he groaned against your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, tasting of bitter coffee and pure desperation. he kissed you harder, deeper, devouring you until your knees buckled beneath you, his heavy thigh instantly slotting between yours to hold you up against the shelves.

the friction was agonizingly perfect. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down, arching your back into his heavy frame as his mouth left yours, tearing down the column of your throat. he bit sharply at the junction of your neck and shoulder, making you gasp, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his back.

"i hate you so much, jake." you cried out, your head tossing back against the metal shelves as his hands moved down, aggressively bunching up the fabric of your skirt.

"hate me all you want, please.” he rasped, his breath burning against your collarbone as he ripped open the first three buttons of your shirt, his chest heaving. he looked up at you, his dark eyes entirely unhinged, wild with a desperate hunger that made your stomach clench pleasantly.

he didn't give you a single second to catch your breath. his mouth crashed back onto yours again, messier this time, open and wet and completely frantic. his large hand slid higher up your thigh, his rough fingers finally slipping past the hem of your skirt and finding bare skin. the sudden contrast of his burning touch against the freezing basement air made a high noise tear out of your throat, a sound he swallowed instantly with his mouth.

you finally got your hands under his sweater, your palms flattening against the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest. his skin was scorching hot, his heart hammering a violent rhythm against your fingertips. he wasn't calm. the meticulous, controlled data analyst was completely gone, completely destroyed, replaced by a man who was shaking just as badly as you were.

"jake." you whimpered, your nails lightly dragging down the center of his chest, exploring the heavy muscle there.

he shuddered violently at the contact, a guttural groan vibrating deep in his throat. his heavy thigh pressed harder between yours, applying a blunt pressure right where you were aching the most, forcing your hips to completely tilt up into his. you dug your heels into the dusty floor to keep from sliding down the cabinet, entirely at his mercy.

"four years." he breathed heavily against your lips, his voice a ruined scrape as his thumb traced the edge of your underwear, dragging slowly over the fabric to feel the damp heat of you beneath it. "four fucking years of pretending i didn't know exactly what this felt like. have you thought about it, huh? about how well you took me in your mouth in that classroom? mmh?"

you gasped, arching off the cold metal so forcefully your spine bowed. his fingers were slightly clumsy with sheer desperation, completely wrecking whatever fragile composure you had left. you tangled your fingers into his messy hair, pulling him closer, holding his mouth to yours like it was the only oxygen left in the room.

"don't think." you begged, tears of overwhelming relief and frustration suddenly stinging the corners of your eyes, blurring the harsh fluorescent light above. "just don't think about it, jake. please don't stop."

"i couldn't stop if i tried, y/n. i’m completely sick with you." he confessed, kissing the salt of a tear off your cheek before trailing bruising kisses down your jawline.

he shifted his grip suddenly, his strong hands grabbing your hips to hike you up effortlessly onto the waist high metal filing cabinet. the cold steel bit into the back of your bare thighs, a shocking contrast to the suffocating heat of his body as he stepped directly between your parted knees.

he caged you in perfectly, his broad chest pressing flush against yours, his hands moving frantically over your body like he was trying to memorize you all over again. he pushed your shirt off your shoulders, letting it pool uselessly around your elbows, his lips finding the exposed skin of your collarbone. he sucked hard, his teeth scraping against the sensitive column of your throat, deliberately leaving a dark mark that he knew you would have to hide under high necked sweaters for a week.

it was territorial, it was entirely unprofessional, and it made you completely lose your mind. you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, crossing your ankles behind his back to anchor him to you, pulling his hips flush against yours. you ground down against the thick denim of his jeans, chasing the friction, chasing the physical weight of him until you were both just shaking, breathing the same dusty air, actively choosing to ruin each other all over again in the dark.

his hand didn’t stay on the outside of the lace for long. the frantic friction of your hips against his was driving you both to the edge of sanity, but it wasn't enough. it was nowhere near enough. jake let out a harsh curse, pulling his mouth away from yours just far enough to look at you. his chest heaved, his dark hair falling into his eyes, entirely disheveled and completely ruined.

"i need to touch you." he rasped, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly low register. "i need to see if you feel the same way you did back then."

you didn't even get a chance to gasp before his rough fingers hooked under the damp edge of your underwear, pulling the thin fabric aside and sliding directly into you. you shattered immediately. a loud cry tore from your lungs, bouncing off the heavy steel walls of the archive as your head threw back against the shelves. he was completely relentless. his long fingers pushed deep, almost too familiar with how your body worked, moving with a precise rhythm that completely short-circuited your brain.

every single coping mechanism, every boundary, every professional defence you had built over the last four years dissolved instantly under the slide of his hand.

"jake, fuck-" you sobbed, your nails biting into his broad shoulders, your legs trembling violently where they were still locked behind his back.

"shhh." he breathed, though his own voice was shaking just as badly. he leaned in, his lips pressing hot kisses to the side of your neck, his tongue tracing the frantic pulse there as his fingers stroked you faster, deeper. "i've got you. i've got you. you're so fucking wet for me, doc. you missed me this much?"

the clinical nickname was a hot twist of the knife. he was doing it on purpose, weaponizing your shared profession, deliberately blurring the lines between the sterile hospital above and the dirty reality of the basement.

"yes." you admitted, the word an unraveled plea, your hips involuntarily chasing the movement of his hand. "yes, god, i missed you. i missed you so much."

that admission snapped the very last thread holding him together as he withdrew his hand completely. the sudden loss of friction was so jarring you let out an embarrassing whine, your hips instinctively tipping forward to chase his empty hand.

"shhh, don't cry." he murmured, though his chest was heaving, his voice thick with a dark satisfaction. "what happened to my clever little psychologist?"

the sharp metallic clink of his belt buckle echoed loudly in the tight space, followed by the heavy hiss of his zipper. you reached down, desperate to help him, desperate to speed up the agonizing process, but he caught both of your wrists in one large hand, pinning them firmly against the cold metal cabinet above your head.

"y/n." he breathed, stepping into the space you had just created, pressing the blunt heat of him directly against your entrance. "you've been running the show all week. you wouldn't even look at me in the elevator on monday."

he rolled his hips forward just a fraction — not enough to go inside, just enough to drag right over your most sensitive spot. you choked on a gasp, your spine bowing entirely off the metal.

"is this what you were thinking about when you were giving me those polite little nods, doc?" he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot and completely ragged. "while you were sitting in your office, playing the perfect professional... were you thinking about how easily i can tear you apart?"

"jake, please-" you begged, the words tumbling out of your mouth without a single thought for pride or preservation. you tried to pull your wrists free, your legs tightening around his narrow waist as you tried to force him deep inside you, but his grip was iron clad. he wasn't going to make this easy. he was going to make you pay for every single day of silence.

"please what?" he taunted, though his own restraint was clearly killing him, a heavy muscle jumping frantically in his sharp jaw. he dragged against you again, a slow friction that made black spots dance in your vision. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into your own palms where he held them pinned. "use your clinical vocabulary, y/n. tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

"fuck you." you cried out, tears of sheer frustration spilling over your lashes, mixing with the sweat on your skin.

"i'm about to." he promised, his voice dropping into a low growl that vibrated straight through your chest. "but you're going to ask for it first. you're going to admit that you're just as obsessed with me as i am with you."

he released your wrists, but only so his hands could drop to your waist, his long fingers digging into your hips to hold you completely still. he rocked against you once more, entirely deliberately, making sure you felt exactly how thick and ready his cock was, how close you were to having what you had been starving for.

"say it." he demanded, his dark eyes burning into yours, completely unhinged in the dim basement light. "you owe me this. say it."

"i'm obsessed with you." you sobbed, your hands flying down to grip his shoulders, your fingernails biting into the thick wool of his sweater. "i want you, jake. i want you so fucking much, please, just put it in. please."

he let out a ragged, tearing sound from the very bottom of his chest, completely undone by the sound of you begging.

"that’s it, my love.” he rasped, and drove his hips forward, sinking completely and devastatingly deep inside of you in one long thrust. the unexpected nickname made your cheeks flush even harder, making your face feel so hot it scared you.

the sheer fullness of his cock stretching you open was a violent shock to your system, stealing the remaining oxygen straight out of your lungs. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your teeth his skin just to muffle the breathless sob that escaped you. jake went entirely still, his forehead dropping against yours, his upper body trembling with the sheer effort it took not to lose his mind completely. he was buried so deep it felt devastating, his heartbeat a chaotic thudding against your chest.

for a long moment, he didn't move. he just stayed deep inside you, letting your body adapt to his weight, his eyes tightly shut as he swallowed hard, trying to claw back some semblance of his usual restraint.

but you could feel the truth of him. you could feel the ragged vibration of his pulse, the way his fingers were dug so fiercely into your waist that his knuckles were white. the cool, analytical researcher was drowning, and the realization gave you an intoxicating surge of confidence through the haze of your own pleasure.

you slowly shifted your hips on the edge of the cabinet, a deliberate tight squeeze around him.

jake flinched, his entire body jerking as a strangled sound tore from his throat. his eyes snapped open, dark and completely wild, warning you to stop.

"what's the matter, jake?" you whispered, your voice a shaky tease as you leaned back just enough to look at him. your fingers trailed up his chest, your nails lightly catching on the skin of his neck, tracing the line of his collarbone. "a-are you going to cum just like this or what?”

"y/n." he warned, his voice a dangerous vibration, his hips twitching involuntarily against yours.

"y-you spent all week hiding up in your lab, pretending i didn't exist... and now you can barely even breathe just from standing inside me?” you murmured, tilting your chin up, your eyes dropping to his mouth before locking back onto his blown pupils.

an unhinged smile flickered across his lips, though his jaw remained rigid. he leaned down, his mouth brushing against yours, tasting of salt and heat. "you think you're so clever, don't you? you always have." he rasped, his hands tightening on your waist with a bruising pressure that made you gasp. "you want to test my limits? let's see how well you can keep that smart mouth running when you can't even think straight."

before you could reply, he pulled back and drove into you again, his pace suddenly turning brutal and completely unyielding. the first hard thrust knocked the wind clean out of you. the heavy metal filing cabinet groaned violently under your combined weight, a loud rattle that echoed sharply down the narrow aisle. your hands flew back to grip the cold edge of the steel behind you, your knuckles turning white as he hammered into you with a punishing rhythm that made it entirely impossible to form a coherent thought.

any trace of your smug satisfaction evaporated into a ragged sob. he wasn't teasing anymore. the dam had completely cracked, and the flood was tearing both of you apart. the friction was sudden and blistering, the thick denim of his unzipped jeans scraping against your bare thighs, a chaotic mix of freezing metal and sweat slicked skin.

"jake- ah! jake, wait." you choked out, your head slamming back against the shelf behind you as he hit you deeper, driving himself into you like he was trying to fuse his body with yours.

"no." he growled, his voice completely wrecked, his face burying into the crook of your neck. he was panting like a dying man, his teeth grazing over your collarbone, leaving wet marks as his hips slammed relentlessly against yours. "no more waiting. i'm so fucking done with the space between us."

he shifted his grip, his large hands sliding under your thighs to lift you higher off the metal, pulling you completely flush against him so he could bury himself even deeper. the sheer desperation in his movements was staggering. he was clawing at you, devouring your mouth in messy kisses that tasted of unadulterated hunger. you could feel the heavy trembling in his arms, the tight strain of his muscles as he held you up, completely consumed by the need to be closer.

you couldn't think, you couldn't analyze. your legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, your ankles locking behind his back as you began to meet him stroke for desperate stroke. you ground yourself down against him, chasing the blinding heat, your hands leaving the cabinet to tear at his hair. every impact was deep and heavy, a blunt ache that centered in your lower stomach and radiated outward until your whole body was shaking.

"look at me." he commanded, his voice a broken rasp. he pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes glassy with sweat and pure yearning in the dim basement light. he was staring at you like you were his only lifeline in a room that was running out of air. "look at what you do to me. tell me you feel it. tell me you're drowning too."

"i am!" you cried out, a tear finally slipping down your cheek as your hips rolled into his, meeting a brutal thrust that made your vision tilt and white out at the edges. "jake, please... i can't... i'm going to-"

"good." he choked out, a sob-like sound catching in his throat as he pushed even harder, his chest heaving violently against yours. "don't think. just take me. take all of it.”

the rhythm turned entirely chaotic, completely stripped of any calculation or restraint. every slam of his hips was a beautiful shockwave that travelled straight up your spine. he was completely unravelled now, his teeth digging into your shoulder, biting hard enough to leave a permanent mark.

"jake, jake, please." you sobbed into his ear, your fingernails tearing at the skin of his neck, drawing faint red lines. your vision was blurring into unreadable shapes, the light overhead spinning in dizzying circles. the pressure building in your lower stomach was too intense, too heavy to survive. you were right on the edge, teetering over a drop that felt miles deep.

"i'm right here. look at me, y/n. don't close your eyes." he choked out, his voice dropping into a feral whisper. his long fingers dug so hard into your thighs that they left deep marks in your flesh.

you forced your lids open, looking into the fractured expanse of his eyes. he looked entirely unhinged, wild with a desperate hunger that was terrifyingly beautiful. he was watching you go under, tracking every twitch of your face, every ragged intake of your breath.

"jake-" you didn't even finish the sentence. your walls spasmed, tightening around him in a sudden wave of contractions that ripped a shattered scream from your throat. you buried your face in his neck, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as your entire body went completely rigid, formatting itself around the blinding ecstasy of the release.

the absolute fullness of him inside you during those few seconds was staggering, a sharp crest that made your brain go entirely quiet. that crushing squeeze was the final blow to his threadbare restraint. jake let out a guttural roar that vibrated deep inside your chest. he drove into you three more times — hard, deep, completely blind with his own release — before his entire body locked up.

he threw his head back, his jaw clenching so violently the cords in his neck stood out, and poured himself into you with a desperate shudder that seemed to go on forever.

for a long time, the only sound in the archive basement was the overlapping noise of your breathing. jake didn't pull away. he collapsed forward, burying his face in your messy hair, his broad chest heaving against yours as his weight pinned you flat against the metal cabinet. his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you inside his own ribs.

your legs were still locked around his waist, trembling with exhaustion, your skin slick with a mixture of sweat and the freezing air of the vault.

"don't move." he whispered against your ear, his voice a completely ruined baritone. his fingers flexed against your back, his touch suddenly incredibly tender compared to the violence from moments before. "just stay right here. don't run yet."

the steady drip of adrenaline suddenly began to fade, and the reality of the room crashed back in with excruciating clarity. the biting chill of the basement air hit your exposed skin, making a sudden shiver rack your entire frame. the silence in the vault was deafening now, suddenly being acutely aware of everything.

how loud your own chest was heaving. how his skin felt slick and hot against your palms. the absolute wreck of your clothes — your skirt bunched up around your waist, your shirt hanging open with the top buttons missing. your face burned with a sharp spike of self-consciousness that made your stomach do a nervous flip. your eyes darted down, landing on his shoulder where your teeth had left an angry red mark, and a wave of panic hit you.

what did we just do?

you shifted your weight awkwardly on the hard edge of the filing cabinet, your ankles slowly unlinking from behind his waist. your hands, which had been buried in his hair, dropped down to press weakly against his chest, trying to create an inch of space.

"jake." you breathed, your voice sounding small, raspy, and entirely too bare in the quiet aisle. "the... the files. vance is waiting for the intake data. we've been down here too long."

he didn't budge. if anything, he sank a fraction heavier against you, his hips remaining perfectly locked against yours, keeping you pinned to the cold metal. he slowly lifted his head from your neck, his dark hair completely disheveled, his eyes searching your face. they were still dark, his pupils wide, but the feral wildness had settled into a hyper-focused intensity.

"let him wait." jake murmured, his voice a low scrape.

you tried to look past his shoulder, anywhere but at his face, your fingers nervously twitching against his chest. "no, seriously. the digital network is down, they're drowning upstairs with the storm cases. if someone comes down here looking for us-"

"y/n."

the quiet command in his voice cut straight through your panicked rambling. his large hand left your waist, his long fingers reaching up to catch your chin, gently but firmly tilting your face back up until you had no choice but to look at him. his thumb pressed against your lower lip, tracing the swollen skin.

"stop that.” he said softly.

"stop what?" you asked, trying to force your voice into a defensive tone, but it came out as a breathless whisper.

"the retreating." he whispered, his thumb dragging slowly down to your jawline. "i can feel your brain working from here. you're already calculating the damage, trying to find a neat little box to put this in so you can pretend it was an isolated incident. you're looking for the exit."

your throat felt tight, the accuracy of his words making you ache. you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, not to pull his hand away, but just to hold onto something steady because your knees still felt like water. "it's a hospital basement, jake. we're colleagues. this... this is a massive hr violation, for one thing, and it's completely-"

"don't do that." he interrupted, leaning down until his forehead rested heavily against yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips. "don't lie to me. not after that. you held onto me like you were dying. y-you told me you wanted this. you don't get to go back to polite elevator nods, y/n. i won't let you do it to me again."

"i'm just trying to be realistic." you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut because having him this close, even after everything, was still making your chest swell with a terrifying amount of yearning. "this changes everything up there. it complicates everything."

"good." jake rasped, his lips brushing against yours slowly. he didn't pull away, he stayed right there, anchoring you to the reality of what had just happened. "let it change. i want it to. i've spent four years losing my mind. i'm not letting you run away this time."

the generators hummed somewhere beyond the thick concrete walls, a steady vibration filling the silence between your mouths. for four years, you had replayed the wreckage a thousand different ways in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he apologized. sometimes you did. sometimes it was loud and explosive, a replication of the fights and the bickering that used to leave you both hollowed out and bleeding in that college library.

never, not once, had you imagined this.

your eyes searched his face, tracking the faint twitch in his jaw, the damp strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. he looked completely exhausted. not just from the late shift or the winter storm, but with the structural fatigue of someone who had been carrying a weight so heavy for so long that he had forgotten how to stand upright without it.

and suddenly, the sterile basement walls dissolved, and all you could see was the university library. the fourth floor windows glowing long after midnight. the half-finished coffees growing cold between stacks of behavioral data prints. the almost mechanical way he used to ask if you had eaten because he knew your blood sugar crashed when you were anxious. the ridiculous arguments over predictive models that were always just a thinly veiled excuse to keep talking to each other.

the classroom. the freezing rain. the boy who had looked at you as though decoding your mind was the only thing that could ever salvage his own.

he had been there the entire time. buried beneath months of sterile protocol and polite nods.

"i'm so tired." you admitted, the confession so quiet it barely disturbed the heavy air between you.

jake’s expression softened, the clinical armor he wore upstairs completely melting away. "i know."

"no." your voice cracked, a raw edge of tears catching in your throat. "i'm tired of fighting you, jake. i'm tired of pretending you're just a name on a shift report."

his eyes closed for a brief second, his long eyelashes casting dark shadows over his cheekbones. when they opened again, they looked unbearably young. stripped of the professional detachment, they looked exactly like they had four years earlier, right before everything went up in flames.

"i'm tired too." he whispered.

the truth of it settled between your bodies with an astonishing gentleness. it wasn't dramatic. it wasn't a breakthrough. it was just a mutual surrender to the exhaustion of running from the same ghost.

you let out a shaky laugh, brushing the heel of your hand beneath your eyes to catch a stray tear before it could drop. "look at us."

he frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in that familiar, analytical way. "what?"

"we're clinical psychologists and behavioral researchers." you murmured, another ironic laugh escaping you. "we literally spend our entire lives studying human behavior, and somehow we've managed to spend years acting like complete idiots."

for a heartbeat, he simply stared at you, his thumb still resting against the curve of your hip. then, the corner of his mouth twitched.

and he laughed. really laughed. it wasn't the polite, polished sound he gave the department heads. it was that quiet chuckle that used to echo through the empty library stacks whenever you managed to prove one of his statistical algorithms wrong.

your chest tightened so sharply it felt like a physical ache.

"there you are." you whispered before your brain could filter the thought.

his smile faded, his dark irises locking onto yours with an intense gravity. "...what?"

"you." you said softly.

he didn't answer, he didn't have to. because for the first time since leaving, you weren't looking at the brilliant data analyst the hospital prided itself on. you were looking at jake. just jake. the boy who was just as terrified of his own depth as you were. and somehow, seeing him clearly after so much time hurt even worse than the silence.

somewhere outside the heavy vault door, the distant sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by the faint chime of the staff elevator. both of you instinctively glanced toward the aisle entrance.

reality was waiting upstairs. patients who needed evaluations. servers that needed to be brought back online. coworkers, morning rounds. the structured, clinical life you had both built to keep yourselves safe from one another.

"we should probably find those files." you murmured, though your hands didn't move from his sweater.

jake nodded, his chest rising and falling against yours in one last sigh. "yeah. vance is going to come down here himself if we take any longer."

neither of you moved. you stayed locked together in the narrow space, your bare thighs still cooling against the metal cabinet, the heat of the encounter lingering in the cold air like smoke.

then, after a long silence, he slowly reached down. his large hand slid over yours, his long fingers carefully intertwining with your own. it wasn't possessive. it wasn't the desperate, bruising grip from before. it was tentative. a lingering question you both should have had the courage to ask four years ago.

you looked down at your joined hands, the contrast of his pale skin against yours, before looking back up into his eyes.

but this time, you didn't pull away.

the end ⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

extra !

the next morning, the winter storm had cleared, leaving the hospital windows framing a blindingly white city. the central servers were back online, the basement archives were locked up, and the frantic chaos of the night shift had settled into the quiet hum of a friday morning.

you were standing at the nurse’s station on the psychiatric floor, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee and staring blankly at a patient chart. you were wearing a high necked black sweater — a very deliberate choice — and your body still ached with a deep exhaustion that felt incredibly sweet.

"you look like you got hit by a snowplow." lily said, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you. she was currently holding a clipboard with a stack of new intake forms while looking at your face intensely. "did you even sleep?"

"barely." you murmured, keeping your eyes on the chart. "the emergency intake was a mess until the network came back up."

"tell me about it. the doctors were breathing down everyone's neck." lily sighed, flipping through her papers. "speaking of last night, did you ever find that baseline evaluation for bed four? vance said he sent you down to the archives, and then he sent jake down to help you, and then-"

the double doors to the wing hissed open.

both of you looked up. jake was walking down the corridor, his lab coat back on, unbuttoned and fluttering slightly as he moved with his usual long strides. he had a tablet in one hand, his eyes scanning a spreadsheet of behavioral data metrics. he looked as sharp and analytical as ever, but his hair was slightly damp from a rushed morning shower, and his jaw wasn't clenched for once.

lily didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. she just kept talking. "anyway, vance said you both took forever, so i assumed the filing system down there was a disaster-"

as jake drew level with the nurse's station, he didn't stop. he didn't even slow down. but as he passed you, his left hand dropped slightly.

his long fingers brushed against yours where your hand was resting on the counter. it wasn't a casual slip. his index finger hooked tightly around yours for a fleeting second, his warm thumb brushing over the back of your knuckles in a private squeeze before he let go.

he didn't look at you, his eyes never leaving his tablet. he just kept walking toward the administration offices, his expression completely blank, a perfect picture of professional detachment.

but you froze. your breath hitched in your throat, and a sudden, uncontrollable flush crawled up your neck, burning hot against the fabric of your sweater. you quickly took a sip of your coffee to hide it, your heart doing a happy flip against your ribs.

lily’s voice abruptly cut off.

you blinked, keeping your eyes glued to the patient file, desperately trying to look natural. "what? you were saying about the filing system?"

silence.

slowly, you turned your head. lily wasn't looking at her clipboard anymore. she was staring down at your hand on the counter, then staring down the hallway at jake’s retreating back, and then very slowly turning her gaze back to your face. her jaw was slightly slack, her eyes wide with a mix of absolute shock and frantic mental math.

lily had been a triage nurse on the psychiatric floor for years, which meant she possessed a near supernatural ability to read a room in under two seconds. she could spot a patient’s subtle shift in agitation, a doctor’s hidden hangover, or a brewing crisis before anyone else even noticed.

and right now, all that clinical intuition had just locked onto you.

she didn't need a degree in psychology to do the math. the puzzle pieces she had been casually collecting for months suddenly snapped together with an audible click.

the polite elevator nods. the way you always volunteered to go to the upper floors when jake wasn't there. the way jake’s posture went completely rigid whenever your name was mentioned in staff meetings. the sudden appearance of your high-necked sweater on a friday morning.

"oh my god." lily whispered, her voice dropping to a scandalized hiss.

"lily, don't." you pleaded quietly, your face burning even hotter as you shoved the patient chart shut.

"the university library." she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she leaned in so close your foreheads almost touched. "the “toxic situationship” from grad school who you said “moved across the country”? the data analyst?! jake?!"

"keep your voice down!" you hissed, looking around frantically, but the nearby nurses were occupied with a medication cart.

"you two have been playing matching coat cold war for months in this hospital, right?" lily muttered, her brain completely short-circuiting with joy. she looked down the hallway again, where jake was just disappearing into vance's office. "he just touched your hand. he didn't even look at you! that was the most calculated, romantic, deeply unhinged thing i have ever seen a researcher do."

"it wasn't calculated." you mumbled, a helpless smile finally breaking through your defensive exterior.

lily pointed a finger at you, her eyes gleaming with absolute victory. "you're smiling. you're glowing. y/n, you went into the basement for files and came back with a boyfriend. i am analyzing this entire situation and concluding that you are a complete idiot for waiting so much time.”

"we're figuring it out." you whispered, your fingers subconsciously tracing the spot on your knuckles where his thumb had just been. "we're... trying to be careful."

lily let out a happy hum, tapping her clipboard against her chin as she looked at you with pure affection. "well, the data doesn't lie, doc. you're a goner. now, tell me everything before daniel comes back out."

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

[orimuraa]

ADDICTED TO YOU ⸝⸝ 심재윤

taste - danceracha ۶ৎ when a stupid game of truth or dare has you laying beneath your hot roommate as he does pushups

ˊᗜˋ roommate!jake x fem!reader┆fluff┆petnames, kisses, swearing, minsung cameo┆wc 497 𝗯★𝗻𝗷𝗶 HAPPY BIRTHDAY @koiiq !!!!!!!!!!!!!! literally what would i do without you twin. my sun to my won, my ceo mafia boss to my yn, have the happiest of birthdays my lovely <333 MWAHHHH

your roommate was going to be the death of you. he was hot as fuck and there was no denying it.

jake sim was the definition of “oh my god my roommate is so hot but if i date him things might go wrong and i might end up homeless” if that was even a common statement. he had a gorgeous puppy-like smile that contrasted with his eye candy muscles.

you knew he was also the definition of a “sleeper build” because you have never once seen jake workout without complaining within the first 5 seconds.

it was impossible not to have feelings for the man! he was charming, funny, and very considerate, never once leaving a mess around your shared apartment.

however, one evening with your best friends, minho and jisung, led to either the worst mistake of your life or the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

the three of you were perched at your kitchen island, happily catching up over some greasy food.

“why don’t you have mr. hottie join us?” jisung snickers, a stupidly smug grin on his lips.

“no way! i don’t wanna make him uncomfortable..” you blurt out too quickly, your heart rate spiking at the mention of jake.

“just admit you don’t want him here cause you’re scared,” minho teases, childishly sticking his tongue out at you. you flip him off.

“whatever, let’s play truth or dare,” jisung grins like he’s five.

“ji, what are we? high schoolers?” you snort, bringing your knees up to your chest. but still, you agree.

it’s easy at first, simple things like “when was your last kiss?” or “i dare you to go scream the lyrics to stateside out the window” until minho decided to be the fucking menace he is.

“ynnie, truth or dare?” he smirks, the same smirk he wore when he was up to no good.

“dare,” you exhale, feeling risky.

“i dare you to get jake to do a pushup with you underneath him,” he laughs like the devil he is.

“i hate you lee minho.”

so here you are, laying on the floor of jake’s room, with your crazy hot, crazy buff roommate smirking over you.

“since when did you get so risky?” he questions, his gaze sharp on you.

you don’t answer.

you don’t dare make a sound when he sets his hands beside your head and hovers directly over you. you don’t even know you exist when he lowers himself down for the push up, but never actually goes back up, staying centimeters away from your face.

you can feel his lips ghosting yours, and the tension is so thick you feel like you’e suffocating in it.

“sweetheart, can i kiss you?” he breathes, your noses brushing together.

you don’t trust your voice, so you nod.

and with that, his lips finally crash against yours and suddenly, you feel like the main character of a fanfiction who finally confessed to her roommate after years of pining.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @jazz7gnab, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa, @manariee, @ryuunaaa, @biradoobee, @haniipie, @sojumimi, @kristynaaah, @chrrific, @fleuryns, @rue-jenni, @laylasbunbunny, @gweoriz, @ddolleri, @rikigoonette, @yiura, @wonuziex, @saeivra, @sseashore, @vanillakirstein, @yunjiiin, @starniras, @mbella607, @rikigirly, @teddybeartaetae, @lannnu, @ddolleri, @aamirazx, @skylarwrite, @veulette, @foreveronez, @yooniso, @callmewony, @ami-kay-01, @sulkybunnysstuff, @lunaryoongie, @angelyseo, @enhypenlvrsstuff

[i2sunric]

SAVE ME (I think I’m lost) — (s.jy) PART 1

PART 1 (19k) ; PART 2 (7k)

PAIRING: nerd!jake x popular!reader (f)

SUMMARY: once the college’s golden girl, you had it all: endless parties, a popular boyfriend, and flawless grades. but behind the spotlight, your mind was slowly unraveling. pretending everything was fine became exhausting, and for the first time, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you anymore. then came Sim Jake, the awkward, quiet nerd you never thought twice about, who somehow saw through every carefully built wall around you. and the more your world fell apart, the more he became the only place that still felt safe.

WARNINGS: mutual cheating? (y/n on her bf and her bf on y/n), toxic relationship (not with jake), SMUT, virginity loss, subby!jake, switch!reader, riding, car sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, jake is so sensitive ma babe, mentions of anxiety attacks, panic attacks (slight description), pills consumption, jake is silly (we love him), y/n’s anxiety is mentioned A LOT, alcohol consumption, arguing, fightin (no punches actually), slow burn but they had sex, poor decision making (welp), y/n is in denial, mentions of bullying, this is low-key trash (but don’t we all love a little trash sometimes?), mentions of period, jake is VERY desperate, abandonment issues (🙁), i SWEAR it gets better as y/n breaks up with jacob. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

WC: 26k (part 1: 19k - part 2: 7k)

PUBLISHED: 24th May 2026

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14 @mintchocoddeonut @lostgirlysstuff @firstclassjaylee @jazz7gnab @cyutecoree @hooniluhv @soullesslien @chowonasblog @heartmira @keeeholic @skz-enha @swehee @all4moi (fiction) @jiwonniethepooh @chaostudee @andieekosmos @lawjakesim @jaybswife @saamaoaiwyq @starggukies @ily4hoonity @heeverseblog @wickedbutlovely @fairystudio (50/50) CLOSED.

NOW PLAYING: Skin by Sabrina Carpenter - I THINK I’M LOST AGAIN by Chase Atlantic - Fame is a Gun by Addison Rae - Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae

a/n: as someone who struggles with anxiety i wanted to bring awareness to how much it can shape your life 💔 i’m sorry i had to divide it in two parts but tumblr is a bitch with a word limit!! hopefully you’ll like it anyways 🩷 STAY TUNED for PART 2!

The dorm room buzzed with the quiet hum of preparation as you stood before the full-length mirror, turning slowly to examine every angle of your reflection.

The deep blue dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the glittery lace on the skirt catching the warm light and scattering it like tiny stars across the walls.

You ran your palms down the fabric, smoothing it over your hips, satisfied with how the halter neckline framed your shoulders.

“You look incredible,” Sophia said from behind you, her voice carrying that familiar note of admiration she always had when you got dressed up.

She was already in her light blue dress, a simple but elegant number that made her skin glow.

She was fixing a loose strand of hair in her own mirror, her lips pursed as she applied a final layer of gloss.

“So do you,” you replied, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “That color suits you.”

She grinned, about to say something when a loud, impatient honk cut through the evening air from outside. Three short blasts, then a longer one, the sound jarring against the quiet campus night.

Sophia moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside just a fraction, peeking out. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise “Holy shit. He really rented a limousine?”

You sighed, already feeling the familiar knot of irritation tighten in your chest.

Of course he did.

Jacob (your boyfriend, unfortunately) never did anything quietly. Everything had to be a spectacle, a performance, a way to show off how much money he could throw around.

It had been charming once, in the beginning, when you were both drunk on the novelty of each other.

Now it just felt... exhausting.

“Do you want a ride?” you asked, grabbing your small clutch purse from the bed and checking that your phone and lipstick were inside.

Sophia laughed, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. I love you, but I really don’t want to witness you two making out the whole way there. My girlfriend is coming to pick me up anyway.”

You blew her a kiss, the gesture light and affectionate. “Fair enough. Text me when you get there.”

“Will do. Have fun and try not to strangle him.” She sang-song.

“No promises.” You stepped out of the dorm room and made your way down the stairs, the click of your heels echoing in the stairwell.

The night air hit you as you pushed open the front door, slightly cool for early autumn.

And there it was, stretched along the curb like a white whale, the limousine.

It was absurdly long, the kind of vehicle that screamed look at me from every polished inch.

The driver of the limousine opened the car door for you, helping you step inside with a kind hand.

“There she is.” Jacob said, his voice already carrying that slight slur that meant he’d started drinking before picking you up.

His tie was loose around his neck and his jacket discarded somewhere on the seat beside him. His eyes were glassy, his smile too wide. “My beautiful girl. Took you long enough.”

“I wasn’t aware I was on a schedule.” you said, smoothing your dress back down and settling into the seat across from him, putting distance between you.

The limousine was spacious, with plush cream leather seats that wrapped around the interior, a mini bar stocked with bottles, and a strip of colored lights along the ceiling that cast everything in a soft, muted glow.

The driver pulled away from the curb without a word, and the limousine glided smoothly through the campus streets.

Jacob reached for you, his fingers grazing your knee. “Come here, dont sit all the way over there.”

“I’m fine here.” You replied with pursed lips.

His jaw tightened, but he let his hand fall back. “Suit yourself.”

The ride to the gala was spent in strained silence punctuated by Jacob’s attempts to make conversation that quickly devolved into complaints.

“Want a drink?” He questioned, holding a glass of what seemed to be whiskey. “You know I can’t.” You replied with a stern look

“Party pooper,” he sneered, "Whatever, more for me.”

You stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, counting the minutes until you could be surrounded by other people and not have to be alone with him.

When the limousine finally pulled up to the venue, you felt a wave of relief.

The building was an modern building that had been converted into an event space, its stone facade draped in white lights and a red carpet was leading up to the grand entrance.

People were milling about in blue suits and gown as the air filled with the murmur of conversation.

Jacob was out of the car first, offering you his hand with the practiced charm of someone who knew people were watching.

You took it, because appearances mattered, and let him lead you inside.

The ballroom was stunning. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prisms of light across the marble floors. the tables were draped in white linen, they lined the edges of the room and centerpieces of white roses and candles flickering softly.

A bar stretched along one wall, already busy, and a small orchestra played near the far end, their music floating through the air like silk.

You spotted Sophia almost immediately, standing with her girlfriend near one of the tall windows with a glass of champagne in her hand.

She gave you a small wave, and you smiled back.

For the first hour, things were fine. You mingled, you laughed at the right moments, you nodded along to conversations about internships and family businesses and who was dating whom.

Jacob stayed close, his hand on the small of your back, his presence a constant pressure that you tried to ignore. But as the night wore on and the drinks flowed, his grip grew heavier and his touches more insistent.

He started rubbing your hip while you were talking to a professor, his fingers dipping dangerously low to your backside.

You shifted away, giving him a pointed look, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

“Jacob,” you murmured, leaning close to his ear. “Stop.”

“What?” His voice was too loud, his breath hot and sour against your cheek. “I’m just showing you off.”

“You’re being inappropriate.”

His expression darkened. “I’m being your boyfriend. When did you become such a prude?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I’m not doing this here.”

“You never want to do anything anymore,” he said, his voice rising. A few nearby heads turned. “You’re always tired, always stressed, always on your fucking pills—”

“Jacob.” Your voice was sharp, a blade. “Don’t.”

But he was already beyond listening. He downed the rest of his drink, set the glass down on a passing tray with more force than necessary, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m done.”

“Don’t make a scene.” You begged.

“Too late.” he said, and stormed off toward the exit, weaving slightly as he pushed through the crowd.

You stood there for a moment, with your hands trembling and your face burning.

Sophia caught your eye, her expression worried, and you could see her starting to move toward you. You shook your head, mouthing “I’m okay.” and followed Jacob out into the night.

The cool air hit you like a slap. The street was quieter there, away from the main entrance as the sounds of the gala muffled behind the thick walls.

Jacob was pacing near the sidewalk with his phone in his hand. “Jacob.” You called.

He spun around with wild eyes. “What?”

“What the hell was that?” You asked. “What the hell was what? Me wanting my girlfriend to actually pay attention to me?” He scoffed.

“I was paying attention to you, I was standing right next to you all night.” you frowned.

“You were ignoring me. Flirting with everyone else.” Jacob accused.

“I wasn’t flirting, I was making conversation. That’s what people do at these things.”

He laughed bitterly, his expression as cold as ice, “You’ve changed, you know that? You used to be fun. Now you’re just... detached. You never want to have sex anymore, you never want to party, you just want to stand around and talk about boring shit.”

You felt something snap inside you. “I’m taking anti-anxiety pills, Jacob. Do you remember that? Do you remember the panic attacks I’ve been having? Do you remember me telling you that the medication makes me feel different? Or do you just not care?”

He stared at you, his mouth open, but no words came out.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, and your voice was steadier than you expected. “I’m not going back inside with you. I’m not getting back in that limousine with you. Go home, Jacob. Sleep it off.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He looked at you as if you had grown two heads, or as if he had never heard the world ‘no’ in his life.

“I’m not.” You stood your ground.

He looked at you for a long moment, something shifting in his eyes. Then he turned, pulled out his phone, and started walking down the street, his steps unsteady. “Fine. Whatever. Fucking fine.”

You watched him go until he disappeared around a corner, and then you stood there alone, the night silent around you. You took a deep breath, then another, willing your heartbeat to slow.

You didn’t want to go back inside. You didn’t want to face Sophia’s pitying looks or the whispered speculation of the other guests.

You just wanted to go home.

You started walking, your heels clicking against the pavement, heading toward the main road where you could call a ride.

But you honestly didn’t even want to move, so you sat on a bench near the river and let your tears silently fall.

It all hurt, why couldn’t Jacob try to understand you? Why did he have to make everything about him?

“That was very rude, if you ask me.” You gasped as a voice spoke from your left.

You hadn’t noticed someone was sitting on the other side of the bench

You recognized him vaguely. You had seen the guy around at campus, but his face had never stuck in your memory until that moment. He had thick glasses and styled hair, with a gummy smile.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. My mom always tells me I tend to speak at the wrong moment.” He apologised, glancing away.

You sighed and scooted closer, “No, I think you’re very right.” You tuned toward him. “By the way, you go to Saint Cross’s college too, no?”

He nodded with a quick motion that messed his hair. “Yeah…. I’m Jake.”

“I’m Y/N.” You stepped closer, and he seemed to shrink back, his shoulders hunching. “What are you doing out here?”

“I— uh…” he gulped, “I hadn’t read that the dress code was blue, so I wore this suit.” He pointed at his very white suit. “The waiters are wearing white…”

You let the information sink in before letting out a quiet snort at the weirdness of it all. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

He finally glanced at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a fraction of a second before darting away.

In the dim light, you could see the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you… uhm, want some of this?” he questioned, raising the bottle he was drinking.

It was a bright orange liquid that looked like a spiked punch. “Sorry, I’m cutting down on the alcohol.”

“Oh, this is not alcohol.” He replied, shaking the bottle. “This is Gatorade, it’s way past my bed time, i needed the energy.”

As you threw your head back and laughed, you caught sight of the white limousine with the back of your eyes.

An idea formed in your mind, reckless and impulsive, the kind of idea you would have talked yourself out of a year ago.

But tonight, sitting there in your glittery dress with your boyfriend’s abandonment still fresh in your chest, you didn’t feel like talking yourself out of anything.

“Do you want to be my buddy for the night?” you asked.

He blinked. “What?”

“The limousine there? My boyfriend forgot it. Let’s take it for a spin.” You shrugged.

He looked at the car, then at you, then back at the car. “I don’t think that’s—”

“The driver’s paid for the whole night. He’ll drive wherever we want.” You walked over to the driver, who had stubbed out his cigarette and was watching you with mild curiosity. “We’re taking the car out. My boyfriend left, but the night’s still young.”

The driver shrugged, his expression indifferent from when he had opened the door for you just a couple of hours earlier. “You’re the boss.”

You turned back to Jake, who hadn’t moved. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, his hands wrapped around the Gatorade bottle like it was a lifeline. “Come on,” you said, holding out your hand. “I promise I don’t bite.” you sang song.

He hesitated for a long moment, and you thought he might say no, might turn and walk away and go back to whatever quiet corner of the gala he had emerged from.

But then he stepped forward, his fingers brushing against yours, and let you lead him into the limousine.

The interior felt even more opulent now, in the quiet intimacy of just the two of you. The colored lights were still on, casting soft greens and purples across the leather seats.

Jake sat down carefully, as if afraid he might break something.

You sat across from him, watching him. “Have you ever been in a limousine before?” You tried as an ice breaker.

He shook his head. “What about the gala? Do you usually go to those?”

“Not really, but I thought I could try.” He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I think I regretted it as soon as someone asked me to refill their champagne flute.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Socializing is overrated.”

He looked at you then, a real look, his eyes searching your face as if trying to figure out if you were being genuine or mocking him.

You held his gaze, and something in his expression softened.

The driver’s voice came through the intercom. “Where to?”

You looked at Jake. “Anywhere you want.” He thought about it, biting his lower lip. “I don’t know. Just... around?”

“Around it is.” you said to the driver, and the limousine pulled away from the curb, gliding into the night.

The first few minutes were awkward, filled with the kind of silence that felt heavy with unspoken things.

Jake stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, while you studied him from across the car.

He had nice hands, you noticed. Long fingers, neatly trimmed nails. He was nervous, you could tell, from the way he kept fidgeting with the bottle cap, the way his leg bounced slightly.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

He turned to you, curious. “What do you mean?”

You reached over and pressed a button on the console. The ceiling lights shifted, changing from soft green to a warm blue.

You pressed another button, and a small television screen descended from the roof. Another, and a panel slid open to reveal a karaoke machine, complete with microphones.

Jake’s eyes went wide. “That’s insane.”

“Right?” You pressed another button, and the mini bar lit up, revealing rows of tiny bottles. “Do you want a drink?”

“I, uh, I don’t really—”

You nodded, “It’s okay, you’re not a drinker.”

He shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “I’ve never had any alcohol.”

“What?” You sat up straighter, genuinely shocked. “Never? Not even a sip of beer?”

“My parents don’t drink,” he said, shrugging. “And I never really saw the appeal.”

“Well, tonight you’re trying tequila.” You pulled out two small shot glasses and a bottle of Tequila, setting them on the counter. “Consider it a rite of passage… I’ll even have a shot with you, come on.”

He looked nervous, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Okay.”

You poured the shots, sliding one toward him. He picked it up, examining the clear liquid like it might bite him. “Do I just... drink it?”

“Lick the salt, take the shot, suck the lime,” you said, demonstrating with practiced ease. You set up a small line of salt on the back of your hand, licked it, downed the shot, and bit into a lime wedge, the sourness cutting through the burn.

He watched you, then attempted to copy your movements. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the shot glass, and he winced as the tequila hit his throat, coughing and sputtering. “That’s— that’s strong!”

You laughed, genuinely. “It gets easier. Trust me.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and when he looked at you, there was a smile on his face. It transformed his features and made him look younger. “I feel warm.”

“That’s the alcohol. Give it a few minutes.” You poured another round, then another. The third shot went down smoother, and by the fourth, Jake was laughing at something you said, with his head thrown back and his shoulders relaxed.

The awkwardness had melted away, replaced by an easy, electric energy that filled the limousine like the colored lights.

“Show me the karaoke.” he said, his voice looser now, the words slightly slurred.

You grabbed one of the microphones and handed him the other. “What are we singing?”

He scrolled through the options, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t know any of these.”

“Pick the first one you recognize.”

He stopped on a song, and when the opening chords started playing, you recognized it immediately. Lana del Rey’s National Anthem notes filled the car. He started singing, his voice tentative at first, then growing bolder as you joined in, your voices blending together in a harmony that was probably terrible but felt incredible. It was crazy how much he knew the lyrics, singing his heart out.

At some point, you slid closer to him on the seat, your shoulders brushing, and he didn’t pull away.

When the song ended, the silence that followed was different. The air between you felt thick, heavy with possibility. He was looking at you, his eyes dark in the dim light, his lips slightly parted.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For tonight. I was... I was really nervous about coming here. I almost didn’t.”

“Thank you for being my knight in shining armor for the night.” you said, and you meant it.

He smiled again, that soft, transforming smile, and something in your chest fluttered. Without really thinking, you leaned closer and pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

A broken sound left his throat and he turned around, shielding himself from you.

“Jake?” You asked, your brows furrowing in worry, “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, it’s okay…” He said, his voice strained.

You took a better glance at him and… Oh.

His hands were shielding his crotch from your sight and you chuckled, “Are you hard?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “It’s just that… I’ve never been kissed by a pretty girl.”

“I could eat you alive,” you laughed softly, turning him towards you again, “You are so cute.”

“Thank you.” He blushed, actually blushed, and looked away from you. You suddenly felt a strange sensation, a warmth inside of you. After two years of being treated like an afterthought from your own boyfriend, Jake’s gentle nature was a stark contrast.

“Do you want me to kiss you? On your lips?” You asked quietly, and his eyes widened comically. “I mean, I would like it… But only if you want to? I should probably have a mint first, though.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed, fisted his shirt and pulled him towards you.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, your lips brushing against his like a question.

He responded slowly and unsure, his hand coming up to rest on your arm as if he needed something to steady himself.

You deepened the kiss, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips, and he opened for you with a soft, surprised sound.

He tasted like tequila and lime, and you kissed him until you were both breathless, until his hands moved from your arm to your waist, pulling you closer.

Your hand drifted from his knee to his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath your fingers.

He was wearing dress pants, the fabric smooth and warm. You traced circles on his thigh, watching his face, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed and the way his breath hitched.

“Is this okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes.”

You moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment. Your hand slid higher, until you could feel the heat of him through the fabric, the growing hardness that made your own body respond in kind.

He gasped when you palmed him, his hips bucking slightly into your touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along his jaw. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

He shook his head, his hands fisting in the fabric of your dress. “No one’s ever... told me that.”

You pulled back, meeting his eyes. “Then they were blind.”

He kissed you again, hungrier this time, his hands exploring your body with a clumsy, earnest desperation that made your heart ache.

He traced the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the lace of your dress. When his fingers brushed against your breast, he pulled back as if burned.

“Sorry,” he said, his cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You took his hand and guided it back to your chest, letting him feel the weight of you through the fabric. “You can touch me. I want you to.” With one hand, you reached for the ‘Do Not Disturb’ button near the window, so the driver would know not to intrude.

He looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and then his hand moved again, cupping your breast with a reverence that made your breath catch. He was gentle, almost afraid, but there was a curiosity in his touch that was intoxicating.

You reached behind your neck and untied the halter strap, letting the front of your dress fall forward. His eyes went widen as his gaze fixed on your breasts, the peaks that tightened under his stare.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

You laughed softly. “Have you never seen a pair of boobs before?”

He shook his head, his cheeks burning. “I mean, I’ve seen them in movies and stuff, but not... not like this. Not in real life.”

You widened your eyes… fuck! He was a virgin.

“Oh my God,” you said, your body stopping. “We can stop if you want, if you don’t want your first time to be here. I understand.”

“No, no, no.” He begged, nodding his head so much you thought it would fall down, “I want you— want it… please? I’ll be a good boy.”

You searched for his eyes, and when you found sincerity, you guided his hand to your bare skin, and he let out a shaky breath.

His touch was tentative, his warm fingers brushing against your nipple with a featherlight pressure that sent a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you, checking, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. “You’re doing great,” you encouraged. “Just keep going.”

He grew bolder, his hand cupping your breast as his thumb rubbed circles around your nipple until it peaked against his palm.

You leaned into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips, and the sound seemed to spur him on. “Can I...” He trailed off, his eyes dropping to your mouth.

“Yes.”

He kissed you again, his hand still on your breast, and you felt the last of his reservations melt away. He was kissing you like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment, like he was afraid it might disappear if he stopped. And in a way, you realized, he probably had been.

Your hand found his belt, working the buckle open with practiced ease. You smiled, soft and genuine, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “let me take care of you.”

You sank to your knees on the plush carpet of the limousine floor, your dress pooling around you like spilled ink.

He watched you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his hands gripped the edge of the seat.

You unfastened his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers, and then you saw him.

You sucked in a breath. He was huge. Thick and long, veined and flushed, standing proud against his stomach.

For a virgin, he was packing more than most experienced men you’d been with. You looked up at him, and he was staring down at you with wide, terrified eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” you said, your voice husky. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re just... wow.”

He didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so you didn’t give him time to. You leaned forward and took him in your mouth.

He cried out, a high, desperate sound, his hips bucking instinctively. You held him steady, your hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and your tongue swirled around the head.

He was already slick with precum, and you moaned at the taste of him.

“Oh god,” he gasped, his fingers threading through your hair. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

You took him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate his size. He was so thick that it was a stretch, but you loved the feeling, the fullness of him filling your mouth.

You bobbed your head, setting a rhythm as your hand worked what you couldn’t reach.

He was vocal, more vocal than you expected. Little whimpers and moans escaped him with every movement of your head with his hips twitching and his grip on your hair tightening. He was a mess, and you loved every second of it.

“I’m— I’m close,” he warned, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

You doubled your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, and he came with a shuddering cry, his release hot and thick in your throat.

You swallowed it all, every drop, and when you pulled back, he was panting, his eyes glassy, his body trembling. “Fuck,” he whispered, the word falling from his lips like a prayer.

You wiped your mouth and climbed back onto the seat beside him, your body humming with arousal. He looked at you, and there was something new in his eyes. Wonder, maybe. Or worship.

“That was...” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “It gets better,” you said, reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Trust me.”

You stood, shimmying the dress completely down your body until it pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but a scrap of lace that barely covered you. He stared, his mouth open, his spent cock already beginning to stir again.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice reverent.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips. He was hard again, pressing against your stomach, and you reached down to guide him to your entrance. You were wet, so wet, your body ready for him.

“Look at me,” you said, and he did. “I’m going to go slow. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He nodded, his hands finding your waist, his grip gentle but firm.

You sank down onto him, inch by agonizing inch. He stretched you, filled you, and you cried out at the sensation, your head falling back.

He was so big, hitting places inside you that you had forgotten existed. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as his eyes squeezed shut.

“You feel so good,” he gasped. “So fucking good.”

You began to move in a slow, steady rhythm, your hips rocking against his. He met your movements, his own hips rising to meet you, and soon you found a groove, the two of you moving together like you had been doing this for years.

He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss, sloppy and desperate, his tongue tangling with yours.

“Is there something that might make you feel good?” He asked, pulling away and watching you with his big, dark eyes.

You smiled, gripped his hair and gently guided his lips to your breast. As if in command, he parted his lips and took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip.

You moaned softly, the sensation combined with his cock inside you almost too much.

He gently bit the swollen skin, making you arch your back and whelp.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, looking up at you again. You shook your head and gripped his shoulders, “You’re doing so good.” You quickened your pace.

“I’m not going to last.” he admitted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“That’s okay,” you breathed. “Come for me, Jake. Let go.”

He did, with a broken cry, his hips stuttered as he spilled inside you.

The feeling of him pulsing, of his warmth filling you, sent you over the edge as well, your own orgasm crashing through you in waves, your body clenching around him.

You collapsed against him, your skin slick with sweat. He held you, his arms wrapped around you and his lips pressed gently to your hair.

The energy drained from you quickly, from the exertion of sex, the alcohol in your body and the drowsiness from the pills.

Your eyelids dropped slowly, until your eyes were fully closed.

In your sleepy state, you murmured, “Thank you, Jacob.”

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

“I fucked up,” you said, the confession spilling out before you could stop it.

The words tasted like ash on your tongue as you slumped into the chair across from Sophia.

The west library was nearly empty at this hour, the pale morning light filtering through the tall arched windows, casting long shadows across the wooden tables.

Sophia looked up from her laptop, her eyebrows furrowing.

She had been away at her girlfriend’s place for the weekend, and you had deliberately avoided texting her, not wanting to drag her into the mess you had created.

But now, sitting across from her, the weight of the weekend pressed down on your chest like a physical force.

“What happened?” she asked, closing her laptop and giving you her full attention.

You took a shaky breath, your fingers curling around the edge of the table. “I… I deflowered a guy.”

Her eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Wait, you finally broke up with Jacob? Good for you—”

“No,” you cut in, your voice sharp. “I didn’t break up with him.”

The smile froze on her face. “What do you mean you didn’t break up with him? You had that huge fight at the gala. I thought that was it.”

“We didn’t officially break up,” you said, your throat tightening. “We just… fought. And then I went and had sex with someone else while we are still together.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair, processing the information. Her fingers tapped against the table, a nervous habit you recognized. “Okay. Okay, I’m not judging you. But… who?”

You shook your head, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I can’t tell you. I’m not sure he wants people to know.”

“Y/N, you have to tell me—”

“I can’t, Sophia. Please.” You cut her off.

She sighed, her expression softening. “Alright. I trust you. But how did it happen? Wait, was it the limo driver?”

“No, no.” You let out a hollow laugh. “It was someone from college. I was angry and hurt, and I just… I invited him into the limousine. One thing led to another.”

You remembered the warmth of his body, the way he had held you afterward, the tenderness in his touch that had felt so different from Jacob’s demanding hands. “I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in my room, wearing my dress. I think he put it back on me. He carried me upstairs and he even bought me Plan B.”

“Aw, he was a gentleman,” Sophia teased, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

You bristled, your jaw tightening. “This isn’t funny, Sophia. I cheated on my boyfriend.”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She reached across the table, her hand covering yours. “Jacob has been a dismissive asshole for months. You two were going to fall apart anyway. This was just the last drop.”

The words stung, hitting a nerve you hadn’t expected. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what we have.”

“I know you’ve been miserable,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I know you’ve been crying in the bathroom after your phone calls with him, I know he makes you feel small about your anxiety. That’s not love, Y/N.”

You pulled your hand away, anger flaring in your chest. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m just being honest.” She shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t ask for your honesty.” You stood up, grabbing your bag from the floor. “I told you because I needed to get it off my chest, not because I wanted you to trash my relationship.”

Sophia’s face fell. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

“I have to go.” You stalked toward the exit as your vision blurred with unshed tears.

The library’s heavy oak doors loomed ahead, promising escape, but before you could reach them, you collided with something solid.

The impact sent you stumbling backward, your bag slipping from your shoulder. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry—” you started, bending down to gather your things.

“It’s okay.” The voice was soft, familiar. You looked up, and your heart stopped.

Jake.

He was standing there, dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, his dark brown hair falling across his forehead.

He looked as startled as you felt, his hands frozen mid-motion, as if he had been about to help you but had stopped himself.

“Jake,” you breathed, straightening up. “I… hi.”

“Hi.” He glanced around, as if looking for an escape route, but that library wing was empty except for the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “About Friday. I shouldn’t have… I mean, I was drunk, and I took advantage of you, and I—”

“You didn’t take advantage of me,” he said, cutting you off. His voice was quiet but steady. “I wanted to. I said yes.”

“But I am in a relationship.” You pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “That was wrong. It doesn’t mean you did anything bad— you were actually… very good. Really good. But it was still wrong of me.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I understand.” He paused, then added, “Can I go now?”

“Wait.” You reached out, your fingers brushing his sleeve.

He flinched but didn’t pull away. “Did you… were you the one who took care of me? After we… you know.”

He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked away. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” You frowned.

He was silent for a long moment, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. “Because you murmured Jacob's name. You said it in your sleep, and I… I felt guilty. Like I had done something wrong. So I got you dressed, as best as I could. The driver knew your address from the gala pickup. I carried you up to your room and left you on your bed.”

Your heart ached at the image. Him, struggling to zip up your dress, lifting you in his arms and climbing the stairs to your dorm. “You also bought me Plan B.”

He shrugged, a small, self-conscious motion. “I didn’t know if you were on anything. I wanted to be safe.”

“I’m on birth control,” you said. “So you don’t have to worry about that.”

He nodded again, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Okay, good.”

“Can you keep this a secret?” you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Please… I don’t want anyone to know. Especially not Jacob.”

He met your gaze then, and something in his expression softened. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty library, and you watched him go, a knot of guilt and confusion tightening in your stomach.

“Jake?” You called out, and he stopped in his tracks. He turned around, just slightly, letting you know that he was listening. “You didn’t deserve that… me saying his name.”

He gave you a forced smile, “It’s okay.”

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The afternoon sun was harsh, slanting through the windows of the college cafe and casting everything in a golden, unforgiving light.

You spotted Jacob immediately, standing in line with his friends Juyeon and Justin. He was laughing at something Justin said, his head thrown back with an easy smile.

You walked over, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jacob.”

The laughter stopped immediately. He looked up at you, and the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, distant expression. “What do you want?”

“Can we talk? Please. Just for a minute.” You begged.

He took a sip of his coffee, deliberately slow. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Jacob, please.” You could feel Juyeon and Justin watching, their eyes boring into you. “I know we fought. I know I said some things, but I don’t want to leave it like this. Can we just… talk it out?”

He set the cup down on the counter with a sharp clink. “You made yourself pretty clear at the gala. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ Those were your words.”

“I was upset and angry. You were drinking, and you were being inappropriate.”

“So it’s my fault?” His voice rose, and a few heads turned. “Everything is always my fault.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—” He cut you off. “You know what? I don’t want to hear it.” He turned back to his friends, effectively dismissing you.

Humiliation burned through you, hot and sharp. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

Not here. Not in front of him.

“Fine,” you said, your voice cold. “Go fuck yourself, Jacob.”

You turned and stormed out of the cafe, the door swinging shut behind you with a bang.

The cool air hit your face, and you took a deep, shuddering breath, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

You heard footsteps behind you. “Y/N— Y/N, wait.”

Jacob had followed you outside, with his hands in his pockets and his expression no longer cold.

“What?” you snapped, turning to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the words seemed to cost him something. “I shouldn’t have… I’ve been an asshole.”

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of agitation. “Justin and Juyeon, they told me to come after you. They said I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah? And now that your friends told you what I’ve been telling you for a while, what so you think?”

He was quiet for a moment, the traffic noise filling the silence until he broke it. “I think I miss you… I miss us. But I don’t know how to fix this.”

You stared at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something vulnerable in his eyes. Not the cocky, dismissive Jacob who made jokes about your issues. Just a guy who was scared of losing someone.

“You make me feel insecure,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel embarrassed about my own issues. I hate when you act like taking my anxiety pills is a bad thing. Yes, they lower my libido. Yes, they make me feel numb sometimes. But at least I’m not waking up in the middle of the night thinking I’m going to choke on my own breath.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

You pulled away. “Because you never asked.”

He swallowed, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I just… I miss the fun we used to have. The spontaneous sex, the parties, the laughing. I don’t know how to handle the change.”

“It’s not a change I wanted,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s just my life now.”

He pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

You hesitated for a moment, then melted into his embrace, your face pressed against his chest. His scent was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that everything could go back to the way it was.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t stop replaying the feeling of Jake’s arms around you that Friday night.

The way he had held you, tender and careful, as if you were something precious. The way he had looked at you, with wonder and awe, as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

You pushed the thought away, burying it deep.

“I’ll try to be more considerate,” Jacob murmured into your hair. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, and you held him tighter.

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The living room was buzzing with conversation, voices mixed with the occasional burst of laughter.

Streamers hung from the ceiling, and a banner reading “CONGRATULATIONS MINA!” was taped across the wall above the couch.

Pizza boxes were scattered across the coffee table, alongside bottles of beer and soda.

Mina was glowing, her arm wrapped around Juyeon’s waist with a radiant smile. “I still can’t believe I got it, they really gave me a prize for getting straight As.” she said for the fifth time, and everyone cheered again.

You smiled, raising your can of coke in a toast, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Your mind was elsewhere, fixated on the economic principles test you had tomorrow.

The formulas, the graphs, the theories— they swirled in your head like a storm, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on the celebration, the anxiety crept in, cold and insistent.

Your hands started to tremble.

You set the can down, not trusting yourself to hold it.

Your heart was pounding too hard, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The room suddenly felt too loud, too bright, the laughter grating against your ears.

You needed air. You needed space.

You excused yourself, your voice barely audible, and walked to the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it, your chest heaving.

The mirror reflected a pale, frightened version of yourself with wide eyes, flushed cheeks and hands shaking so badly you could barely unzip your purse.

The pills bottle rattled as you fumbled with the cap. Your fingers felt like clumsy sausages, and you nearly dropped them twice before finally managing to twist open the lid.

You tapped out two small tablets, brought them to your mouth and cupped your hand under the faucet to drink the water directly.

The pills went down with a struggle, and you gripped the edge of the sink, waiting for them to take effect.

But the panic was still there, clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Sophia stood in the doorway, her expression soft with concern. She had always known when something was wrong, had always been able to read you like a book. “Oh… my poor baby.”

She crossed the small space and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You broke down, the tears spilling over, your body shaking against hers. You cried for the guilt you carried, for the confusion, for the way you felt torn between two worlds and undeserving of either.

Even if you had been mad at her, even if you had stormed off a couple of days before, she still held you.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, stroking your hair. “I’ve got you.”

It took a long time for the sobs to subside. When they did, you pulled back, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry. I ruined the party.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Are you okay now?” She asked, worried.

You nodded, though the lie was obvious. “I think so.”

“Do you want to go home? Mina won’t mind.” Sophia offered.

You glanced toward the door, thinking of Jacob out there, laughing with his friends. “If I leave, Jacob will get mad. He’ll say I’m ruining his night.”

“He can fuck himself,” Sophia said firmly. “I’ll drive you home, mh?.”

You hesitated, but the thought of staying in that noisy room, surrounded by people who didn’t understand, was unbearable. “Okay.”

You washed your face, the cold water soothing your flushed skin.

Sophia handed you a towel, and you patted your face dry, trying to look more presentable. Together, you walked back into the living room.

“Hey, guys,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’m not feeling great, so I’m going to head out. Congratulations again, Mina.”

Mina’s face softened with sympathy. “Oh, Y/N, I hope you feel better. Get some rest.”

Jacob looked up from his conversation with Justin. He didn’t ask if you were okay and neithr did he reach out to touch you. He just leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and turned back to his friend.

Something inside you cracked.

You walked out of the house without looking back.

The car ride was silent, the streetlights casting shifting shadows across the dashboard.

Sophia didn’t push you to talk, and you were grateful for that. When you reached your dorm, she waited while you changed into your pajamas, then hovered by the door.

“Do you want me to sleep beside you?” she asked, her voice gentle. “We can have a pajama party, just like in junior year.”

You shook your head. “I just need to be alone.”

She nodded, her eyes filled with worry. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m right next door.”

“I will.” You promised.

She left, and you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The room was dark, the only sound being the faint hum of the heater.

You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but the guilt followed you into the darkness, a shadow you couldn’t escape.

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The library was quiet, as you were hunched over your laptop at one of the corner tables, the glow of the screen illuminating your tired face.

A cup of cold coffee sat beside you, untouched for the last hour. Your eyes burned from staring at the same paragraph about macroeconomic indicators, the words blurring together until they lost all meaning.

You had barely slept in three days.

Every time you closed your eyes, the weight of upcoming exams pressed down on your chest, and your mind would start racing about formulas, deadlines and expectations.

You would toss and turn, check the clock, calculate how many hours of sleep you could still get, and then panic because it was never enough.

By the time dawn crept through your curtains, you gave up, dragging yourself to the library before the sun was fully up.

Now it was mid-afternoon, and exhaustion clung to you like a second skin.

Your phone buzzed, the notification sharp in the quiet room. You glanced at the screen, expecting a text from Sophia or maybe Jacob.

Instead, you saw the college email app, a new message marked with a red exclamation.

You tapped it open and your heart plummeted.

It was from your professor, he had scheduled another test. A quiz for your economic theory class. The date was in four days, right in the middle of the week you had already dedicated to three other finals.

You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat.

A full week of tests.

You had been cramming for the ones you already knew about, and now this.

How were you supposed to cover everything? How were you supposed to keep your grades up? It was barely November, and you were already drowning.

Your hands began to tremble.

The spiral came fast, vicious, and merciless. Your mind raced through worst-case scenarios: failing the class, disappointing your parents, watching their proud faces fall into confusion and shame. They bragged about your straight As to their friends, to your relatives back home.

If you failed, what would they say? What would they think?

Your chest constricted, the air turning thick and unbreathable. You tried to take a deep breath, but it caught somewhere in your throat with a strangled gasp.

Your vision started to tunnel, the edges of the library fading into a dark blur.

You needed your pills.

You grabbed your backpack with clumsy fingers and unzipped the main compartment. You fumbled inside, your hand searching desperately for the familiar plastic bottle.

But all you found were notebooks, a pen case and a half-eaten granola bar. No pills.

You had left them in the kitchen cupboard. You remembered now— you had taken your morning dose, and then you had been in such a hurry to get to the library that you had forgotten to put the bottle back in your bag.

Panic surged through you, hot and suffocating. You slammed the backpack shut, tears already pricking at your eyes.

You couldn't stay here. You couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in, the silence too loud, and the fluorescent lights too bright.

You abandoned everything and stumbled out of the library. Packing up would take too long. Every second felt like an eternity, and you needed air, space, somewhere quiet where you could fall apart without an audience.

The hallway stretched before you, long and empty, the floor tiles a dizzying pattern of white and gray. Your footsteps echoed, uneven as your vision blurred at the edges.

You walked, then stumbled and then fell to your knees, your hands pressing against the cold floor.

Your lungs were being crushed. Each breath was a battle, your chest heaving abs a high-pitched wheezes escaping your lips.

The world tilted, the walls swirling around you. You couldn't hear anything over the roaring in your ears.

Then, through the chaos you heard a voice. Distant at first, like someone calling from the other end of a long tunnel. “Y/N? Y/N!”

It was warm and familiar, but you couldn't place it, you couldn't focus. Your body was shaking too hard and your mind too tangled in panic.

Strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor. You felt yourself being guided, your feet dragging and your weight leaning against a solid chest. The voice kept talking, soft and steady, but the words were muffled, lost in the static of your panic.

You were sitting now, your back against something hard and your knees pulled up to your chest.

The voice was clearer now, right in front of you. “Y/N, look at me. Follow my breathing.”

You blinked as your vision slowly cleared.

A face emerged from the blur: dark hair falling across a worried forehead, glasses slightly askew, and brown eyes full of concern.

Jake.

He was crouched in front of you, his hands gentle on your shoulders. He took a slow, deliberate breath in, then let it out, long and even. “Breathe with me. In… out. In… out.”

You tried, but your breath hitched, stuttered. He didn't rush you. He just kept breathing, slow and patient, his eyes locked on yours. He reached for your hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. You could feel it beating, steady and strong, a rhythm to anchor yourself to.

“Feel that? Just follow it. You're safe.” You focused on the warmth of his chest under your palm, the rise and fall of his breathing. You matched it, in and out, each breath a little deeper, a little slower.

Your vision cleared completely, now you could make out that you were in a storage room, surrounded by shelves stacked with boxes and old filing cabinets. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light over you both.

Jake was still crouched in front of you, his face very close to yours. He was watching you carefully, with brows furrowed with concern. “You’re back?” he asked softly.

You nodded, then shook your head, frustrated. Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and unstoppable. “I'm such a mess,” you choked out, your voice cracking.

You brought your hands to your hair, pulling at the strands, as if you could punish yourself for your own weakness.

“Hey, hey, don't,” Jake said, gently prying your hands away from your head. He held them in his, his long fingers warm and steady, unlike your cold and trembling ones. “It's okay. You're okay.”

But you weren't okay. You were shaking again, this time from the release of tension, from the shame of falling apart in front of him. The tears came harder, sobs wracking your body that you couldn't stop.

Without a word, Jake pulled you into his arms. He hugged you, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other rubbed slow circles on your back.

You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent. You melted into him, letting yourself be held, letting the tears soak into his hoodie.

He didn't say anything. He just held you, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, his arms a safe harbor in the storm.

Minutes passed and slowly, the sobs quieted, your breathing evening out.

You pulled back, wiping your face with the back of your hand. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled tissue, handing it to you with a small, shy smile.

“Thanks.” you whispered, blowing your nose.

He waited until you had composed yourself, then asked, “What do you need?”

You took a shaky breath. “I want to go home. I can't… I can't be here right now.”

He nodded, already standing up. “I'll drive you. I don’t have any more classes.

Your heart squeezed, once again he was saving you. “I left my backpack and laptop on the table… can you get them for me? The backpack is pink and the laptop has a landscape wallpaper.”

“Got it. Stay here, I'll be right back.” He slipped out of the storage room, leaving you alone in the quiet.

A few minutes later, Jake returned, your pink backpack slung over one shoulder and your laptop case in his other hand. “Found them,” he said, a little breathless. “No one took anything.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice small.

He offered you a hand, and you took it. His grip was firm, as he helped you to your feet. He stayed close, one hand hovering near your elbow, ready to catch you if you stumbled.

His car was parked in the student lot, an old BMW with a few dents and a faded paint job.

It wasn't fancy, but it was clean inside, the seats worn but comfortable. He opened the passenger door for you, waited until you were seated, then closed it gently.

The drive to your apartment was quiet. He turned on the radio, low, some soft indie station filling the space with gentle guitar strums. You leaned your head against the window, watching the streets pass by, the familiar landmarks blurring together.

When he parked outside your building, he grabbed your bags and followed you up the stairs. You unlocked the door, stepped inside, and he set your things down by the entrance.

“You can stay,” you said, your voice hesitant. “If you want.”

He hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure? I don't want to intrude.”

“You're not intruding. I… I think I need company. And you just drove here.” You shrugged.

He nodded slowly, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

You led him to the living room, a small space with a comfortable sofa and a coffee table cluttered with textbooks and empty mugs you and Sophia were too lay to clean up. You sat down, and he sat beside you, leaving a respectable distance.

You let out a bitter laugh, rubbing your face with your hands. “God, I'm such a mess.”

“You're not a mess,” he said quietly. “You're dealing with a lot.”

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked after a pause. “Maybe you’ll feel better. I usually do.”

A real smile tugged at your lips. “A shower sounds nice, actually, thank you.”

“Do you need help?” He asked, then cringed, “Sorry, too much?”

“Thank you for the thought,” you called behind your shoulder. “But I can manage.”

You went to your room, grabbed a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and stepped into the bathroom.

The hot water was a blessing, washing away the tension and the lingering panic. You stood under the stream for a long time, letting it beat against your shoulders, your mind slowly quieting.

When you came out, wrapped in a towel, you changed into the comfortable clothes. you walked back to the living room, and the smell hit you— chicken noodle soup.

Jake was in your kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. He turned when he heard you, his eyes softening. “You look better.”

“I feel better.” You sat on the sofa, and he brought you a bowl, a spoon and a napkin. He had even set out a glass of water.

You took the bowl, the warmth seeping into your cold hands. “Thank you, Jake… really.”

“It's no problem.” After a few spoonfuls, he asked, “Does this happen often?”

You sighed, setting the bowl on your lap. “In periods of high stress, yes. It got better over the summer. But now I'm a senior, and the pressure is… a lot.”

He nodded, not pushing for more. You finished the soup, feeling the warmth spread through your body. You set the bowl aside and stood up, walking to the kitchen cabinet where you kept your pill bottles. You popped two into your mouth and washed them down with water.

When you turned back, Jake was watching you, his expression unreadable. “I'm sorry,” you said, sinking back onto the sofa. “You had to take care of me again.”

He shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “I'm glad I was able to help you. Again. I'd do it again if you needed me to.”

Your heart ached at his words. “You're too kind.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “Do the pills have side effects?”

You blinked at the question. It was so practical, so Jake. Nobody had really paid attention to that part of you, except for Sophia and Mina. “They make me drowsy and numb sometimes. The doctor said they can lower also my sex drive.”

He let out a small chuckle, the sound surprising you. “Well, it didn't seem that low in the limousine.”

Your cheeks burned. He caught himself, his eyes widening, and he quickly added, “Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up. I promised you not to.”

“It's okay,” you said, your voice soft. “You're right, maybe being treated with care was a turn-on.”

The air in the room shifted. He looked at you, his gaze lingering on your lips, then meeting your eyes. “I could take care of you…” Jake said, his voice low. “If you wanted.”

Your breath caught and he took it as an invitation to move closer and cup your jaw. Tentatively, he kissed your lips.

You answered by deepening it, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

As realization dawned, you parted, breathless, and said, “We should stop. I'm still with Jacob.”

He pressed his forehead against yours. “Shush,” he whispered, and kissed you again.

You let yourself be pulled under. He laid you down on the sofa, his body covering yours, careful and gentle. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, then he pulled back, his cheeks flushed and his glasses slightly fogged.

“I watched some tutorials,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “On… eating someone out. Do you want that?”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. “You watched tutorials?”

“I wanted to be good at it,” he said, his ears reddening. “For you.”

“Yes,” Your heart melted. “I want that.”

He smiled, a shy, sweet smile, and then he moved down your body. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down. he kissed your thighs, down to your hips, and then the sensitive skin of your inner legs, each kiss sending shivers through you.

Then he gently pulled your panties aside, lowered his head, and his tongue touched you.

Your back arched, it had been a long while since someone touched you like that. He was hesitant at first, then more confident, finding a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

His tongue traced circles, dipped inside, then moved up to your clit. He sucked gently, his nose pressing against you, and you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He moaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your core. You bucked up, grinding against his mouth, and he groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening. “Is this okay?” He questioned.

“Don’t talk,” you breathed out, “Just lick.”

“Yes ma’am.” And he delved in again. His movements were clumsy, as if he was following a certain pattern in his mind. It felt good nonetheless, uour while body on fire.

The pleasure built, coiling low in your belly, and when you came, it crashed over you like a wave, your body convulsing, a broken cry escaping your lips.

He didn't stop until you had ridden it out, then he lifted his head, his lips glossy and his eyes dark.

You noticed the wet patch on his pants, dark and obvious. “Did you cum already?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

He looked down, then back at you as his cheeks painted of a crimson. “Eating you out was really hot.”

You laughed softly, pulling him up to kiss him again. You tasted yourself on his lips and your hand moved to his waistband, but he caught your wrist.

“Today is about you.” he said, his voice firm but gentle. He kissed you again, slow and deep.

He caressed your body, his hands tracing your curves, your breasts, your waist. He kissed you for what felt like hours, worshipping every inch of you. You guided his face to your neck, and when his lips pressed against the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupted across your body.

He kissed, licked, nipped, and you moaned, the sensation reigniting the heat between your legs.

Time lost meaning. You made out on the sofa, tangled together, his hands exploring you as your fingers threaded through his hair.

But the drowsiness from the pills began to seep in and your eyelids grew heavy.

He noticed, so he pulled back with a soft smile on his face. He fixed his glasses, which had gone askew, and gently pulled your sweatpants back up, tucking your panties into place.

Then he scooped you up, carrying you to your bedroom. He probably remembered it from the night of the gala.

He laid you on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he tucked you in. “Rest well, Y/N.”

He lingered for a moment, his hand brushing against your forehead, pushing a wild strand of hair away.

Then he turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall. You were alone, but this time you didn't feel lonely.

The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, a promise that maybe you weren't as broken as you thought.

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

“I did it again.” That was how you greeted Sophia the following morning, your voice still rough from sleep, your hair unbrushed and your eyes carrying the heavy weight of a restless night.

She stood at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a slice of bread dipped in egg mixture waiting in the pan.

The smell of cinnamon and butter filled the small kitchen, which was a stark contrast to the mess of thoughts tangled in your head.

She turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together in that familiar expression of concern. “Did what again?”

You dropped onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, reaching for a box of cereal she had left out. You poured yourself a bowl, the sound of flakes hitting ceramic too loud in the quiet morning. “Fuck up? I had a panic attack yesterday.”

Her spatula paused mid-air. She turned the stove off and faced you fully, crossing her arms. “What? Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me?”

You waved a dismissive hand, even as a small, guilty pang hit your chest. “I’m fine now. I’m fine, but I stumbled in the hallway, and guess who found me?”

She tilted her head, waiting, so you didn’t let her wait. “Limousine Guy.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yup, yhe guy I deflowered.” You said it with a wry smile, but the memory of Jake’s hands steadying you and his voice soft in your ear, came flooding back. You looked down at your cereal, stirring it absently. “He helped me, drove me home… and well… it wasn’t with penetration this time, at least?”

Sophia let out a long, low whistle. She turned back to the stove, sliding the French toast onto a plate, and brought it to the island, sitting across from you.

She took a bite, chewing slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. “Wow, okay. You really need to break up with Jacob.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. You shook your head, even as your stomach twisted. “It’s complicated, Soph. You know that.”

“I know why it’s complicated,” she said, setting her fork down. “Your parents think he’s the golden ticket. He’s wealthy, he’s got connections, he has ‘high chances in life,’ or whatever your mom likes to repeat every time you call her. But when was the last time he looked for you— not because you’re a trophy on his arm, not because he wanted sex, but because he actually wanted you?”

The question landed hard. You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. You thought about Jacob… about the dinners where he talked about his internships and his networking events.

The way he introduced you to his friends as “my girlfriend, Y/N” but never actually looked at you when he said it. The way he kissed you like it was just lust, never love. The way he reached for you only when he wanted something.

“I used to be happy with him,” you said quietly, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe… after I get better, we’ll all go back to how it was. And maybe me and Limousine Guy can be friends. Just friends.”

Sophia stared at you for a long moment. Then she sighed, stood up, and grabbed her bag from the counter. “Figure it out, Y/N.”

She slung it over her shoulder and walked toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “I really want to meet this Limousine Guy by the way. He sounds like he actually gives a damn.”

She left before you could respond.

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

College felt louder than usual that day. You walked with purpose, your shoes squeaked against the polished floors as your eyes scanned every face that passed.

You were looking for Jake and it turned out to be harder than you expected.

You asked a few people, described him, but nobody seemed to know him.

He didn’t have many friends, apparently. He was something of a ghost on campus, someone you passed in the halls without ever really noticing.

The thought made your chest ache.

You ended up in the engineering wing, a group of students huddled around a table covered in blueprints, but your attention landed on a familiar face near the vending machine.

Lee Heeseung.

You’d seen him at parties before, always with a friendly smile and a drink in hand. He was tall, with sharp eyes and an easy way about him.

You approached him, your heart beating a little faster. “Hey, Heeseung, right?”

He turned, recognition flickering in his eyes. “Y/N, yeah. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for someone. Do you happen to know a Jake?” You asked.

Heeseung tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Jake Sim?”

You paused… well, you didn’t even know his surname. “Uh… I’m not sure. He has glasses, dark hair, a cute smile? Kind of quiet?”

Heeseung’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah, that’s Jake. He’s in my dorm building. What do you need him for?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “We’re… friends, I just need to ask him something.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment, something unreadable passing through his gaze.

Then he nodded slowly. “He’s probably in the mathematics building, since he’s a statistics major. You’ll probably find him in one of the classrooms on the second floor, he’s always there, working on something.”

You thanked him and started to turn, but he called your name.

As you looked back, his expression had hardened, a hint of seriousness in his eyes. “You’re not pulling a prank on him or something, right?

“What? No.” You frowned.

“Just… don’t hurt him, okay?” he said quietly. “Jake has a kind soul”

The words struck you deep, echoing Sophia’s earlier sentiment. You nodded when a lump formed in your throat. “I know.”

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The mathematics building was quieter than the rest of campus.

The halls were lined with old photographs of scholars and the air carried a faint scent of chalk dust and old paper. You climbed the stairs to the second floor and peered through the small glass window of each door until you found him.

He was in the last classroom, standing at the chalkboard with his back to the door.

A flannel shirt hung loose over his frame and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms dusted with chalk.

His hair was messy, sticking up in places as if he’d been running his hands through it. He was deep in concentration, his tongue poking out slightly as he scribbled equations in white chalk— a dense forest of numbers and symbols that looked like a foreign language to you.

You pushed the door open gently, he didn’t t notice you at first. You stepped inside and stood behind him.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly.

He jumped, the chalk in his hand skittering across the board and leaving a crooked line. He turned, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and when he saw you, his face flushed a deep pink. “Y/N! I— uh— I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.” You smiled, leaning against the edge of a desk. “So?”

He cleared his throat, gesturing awkwardly at the board. “I’m trying to solve a problem my professor gave me. But it’s not turning out. The deadline is in two days, and I’ve been at it for hours.”

You looked at the board again. It might as well have been ancient Greek. “I can’t help you with that, I’m sorry. I don’t know the first thing about statistics.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “That’s okay. Most people don’t.”

You hopped onto the desk, your legs dangling lazily. “I’ll just sit here, then, to keep you company.”

He hesitated, then turned back to the board, picking up another piece of chalk. But his movements were slower now, less fluid. You could feel his awareness of you, the way his shoulders tensed every time you shifted.

After a few minutes of silence, you spoke up. “Hey, Jake?” He turned, chalk pausing mid-stroke. “Yeah?”

“Can I have your number?” You tilted your head.

The chalk snapped in half. He stared at the broken pieces in his hand, then at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Uh… why do you want my phone number?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “To text, duh. So we can hang out sometimes. If you want.”

Guilt flashed in your faced, “Well, minus the eating out part. I’m so sorry to remind you that I am in a relationship.”

His blush deepened, spreading down his neck. He set the broken chalk on the tray and fidgeted with the hem of his flannel. “I— right. Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I took advantage of you.”

“Jake.” You said his name softly, and he stopped. “It wasn’t your fault. My head is all over the place in this period… But I don’t want to ruin whatever is growing between us. I really like it, and you are so kind to me.”

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that made your heart skip. “I like it too…”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, an older model with a cracked screen and handed it to you.

You typed your number in, saved it under your name and handed it back. He looked at the screen, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“There,” you said. “Now we’re official. Sort of.”

He pocketed the phone, still smiling. You slid off the desk and stretched, your joints popping. “How about you get out of this classroom and rest your very big brain for a while?”

He blinked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come with me and you’ll find out.” You wiggled your brows.

He debated for a moment, glancing at th chalkboard, at the mess of unsolved equations. Then he grabbed his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay.”

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

You led him to the college pool, a sprawling building with glass walls and the faint chlorine smell of the pool.

You signed in at the front desk and rented two swimsuits: a pair of trunks for him and a modest one-piece for you.

You changed in separate locker rooms, and when you met by the pool entrance, you had to stop for a second.

He was already in the trunks, and without his glasses, his face looked different, more open. His chest had abs you hadn’t noticed under his hoodies, and a happy trail disappeared from his belly into his swimming shorts. You fought very hard not to stare.

His hair was still messy, but wet now from a quick shower. He clutched the towel awkwardly, his eyes squinting slightly, shifting his weight from one feet to the other.

“You look good,” you said, and his face went red again.

“I— thanks. I can’t see very well without my glasses, so I’m kind of blind right now.” He chuckled awkwardly. “ You look good too. I mean—“ he waved his hands in front of him, “You always do! I’m not just saying that because you are wearing a swimming suit.”

You smiled, finding his rambling cute, “Thanks, Jake.” You took his hand, feeling the callouses from hours spent writing numbers and led him to the pool area.

The water was a clear turquoise, rippling gently under the bright overhead lights. The space was mostly empty at that time of the day , just a few people doing laps in the far lanes.

You stopped at the edge of the shallow end. “I always come here to swim when I need to clear my head. It helps.”

He looked at the water, a nervous expression crossing his face. “I’m not really good at swimming.”

“Then I’ll help you.” He smiled at you, a genuine, unguarded smile that reached his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a long time.

Awww, he had dimples!

The trust in his eyes was so wholesome. So, you pushed him in.

He let out a yelp as he hit the water, splashing and sputtering, and you laughed— a real, full laugh that echoed off the tiled walls. You jumped in after him, the cool water enveloping you, and surfaced right in front of him.

He was wiping water from his eyes with a shocked look on his face. “You pushed me!”

“I did.” You grinned. “Now swim.”

He tried, paddling awkwardly, his strokes uneven and his legs sinking. You swam beside him, guiding his arms and showing him how to kick properly. “Relax your shoulders, you’re so stiff.”

He followed your instructions, improving little by little. Every now and then he would stop, treading water, and watch you swim laps with a quiet admiration.

You caught him staring once, and he looked away quickly, pretending to be fascinated by the tile pattern.

After a while, you both got tired. You swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted yourself up, sitting on the cool concrete with your feet dangling in the water. He joined you, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, the water streaming down his back and drops falling from his hair down his nose.

The silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the soft lapping of water and the distant echo of someone doing laps.

You turned to him. “Tell me something about yourself.” He looked at you, confused. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I always talk about myself when we’re together. I want to know something about you.”

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers trailing through the water. “Well… I have a dog at my parents’ house. Her name is Layla and she’s my best friend.”

You smiled. “She sounds adorable.”

“She is.” He paused. “I’m an only child. It’s just me and my parents and Layla.” His voice trailed off, and he stared at the water. “I’m sorry, I’m not interesting.”

“That’s not true.” You placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through the wet fabric of his trunks. He tensed, his breath catching, but didn’t pull away. “What are your hobbies?”

He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I like photography, I have a really cool camera at home and…”

It seemed hard for him to find something to say, “I like… Marvel. I’ve seen all the movies. I even own some of the gadgets..

You blinked. “Really? I’ve never watched any of them.”

He turned to you, his expression shifting into one of utter, comical offense. “Never? Not a single one?”

You shook your head, “Not one.”

He shook his own head now, a new determination settling in his eyes. “We have to remedy that. Immediately.” He hesitated, then added, his voice softer, more tentative, “If you want… you could come over to my place. I have all the DVDs, I even have popcorn!”

The offer hung in the air, fragile and sincere. You felt a warmth spread through your stomach, knowing how much courage it had taken for him to ask.

You squeezed his thigh gently. “I’d love that.”

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The drive from the college pool to Jake’s place was short, just a few miles through quiet residential streets.

You were still damp from the quick shower you had taken in the locker room, your hair still clung to your neck. Jake had waited for you outside the women’s locker room, his own hair still wet with a small towel draped over his shoulder.

He lived in a modest apartment complex, the kind with beige walls and identical doors. He unlocked the door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first.

The apartment was small, but immaculate. Everything had its place. The couch was a simple gray fabric and the coffee table bare except for a laptop and a remote.

“Make yourself at home.” he said, his voice a little hesitant. He disappeared into the kitchen, and you heard the rustle of a microwave bag, then the hum of the microwave itself.

You took the opportunity to explore. Your feet carried you across the hardwood floor, past the small dining table with two chairs, past a bookshelf filled with textbooks and a few sci-fi novels.

Then you noticed the photographs.

They lined the walls in mismatched frames, a timeline of his life. The first one you saw was a teenage Jake, all limbs and braces, holding a puppy. The dog was licking his face, and he was laughing with his eyes crinkled shut.

You smiled at that. You assumed the dog was Layla, the one he mentioned before.

Next to it was a framed certificate and a photograph of him holding a trophy. He was standing on a stage with a medal around his neck and he was wearing a crisp white shirt.

It was a math contest, by the look of the banner behind him. His face was serious, focused, but there was a hint of pride in his posture.

Another photograph showed him in a cap and gown, a diploma in his hands. You guessed it was his graduation.

He stood next to a woman who must have been his mother, she had the same soft eyes, the same gentle smile. She was hugging him, her hand on his cheek. His father stood on the other side with n arm around his shoulders.

You moved further down the hall, and then you stopped.

This photograph was different, this one was larger, framed in black wood.

Jake was wearing a white taekwondo uniform and a blue belt held in his hands, with a wide smile.

He looked younger here, maybe early high school, but there was a confidence in his stance that you hadn't seen in the other pictures. His fists were clenched, and his chest puffed out, like he had conquered something.

You heard footsteps behind you, soft and hesitant.

“That was when I got my blue belt,” Jake said, his voice quiet. He stood beside you, with his hands shoved into his pockets. He was looking at the photograph, but his expression was distant, lost in memory.

“That’s amazing,” you said, turning to him. “How long did you do taekwondo?”

He shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “From elementary school until sophomore year of high school. My mom signed me up because…” He paused, licking his lips.

He seemed to wrestle with himself, then he let out a slow breath. “When I was in elementary school, my classmates didn’t really like me. Kids can be mean, you know? They made fun of my glasses and my clothes, of the way I talked. I was an easy target.”

Your heart clenched. You watched his profile as he spoke, the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes stayed fixed on the photograph.

“So my mom signed me up for taekwondo. For self-defense.” A small, wry smile touched his lips. “I never actually used it on anyone. But it made me feel powerful, like I could protect myself if I ever needed to.” He shrugged. “And I made friends there, kids who didn’t care that I was weird.”

He glanced at you, his eyes vulnerable behind his glasses. It was the first time he had opened up to you like this, truly opened up about something painful from his past.

You reached out and rubbed his arm, your fingers gentle against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m sorry they treated you that way, Jake. You didn’t deserve that.”

He looked away, blinking rapidly. “It was a long time ago.”

But you could see the memory still stung. You could see how it haunted his eyes. However, you didn’t push. Instead, you let your hand fall, and you gave him a soft smile.

He seemed to shake off the moment, his expression brightening. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He turned and walked to the couch, where two plushies sat on the armrest.

One was Iron Man, the other was the Hulk. He picked up the Iron Man and held it out to you. “Here. For you.”

You took it, surprised. The plush was soft, well-loved with the stitching on the arc reactor slightly frayed. “Are you sure? This seems special.”

“I have the Hulk,” he said, picking up the green plush and hugging it to his chest. “We can watch the movie with them.”

A warmth spread through you, at his innocence. You followed him to the couch, settling down side by side.

The popcorn was ready, he had made it perfectly, buttered and salted, and he set the bowl between you.

He grabbed the remote and navigated to Netflix, pulling up the first Marvel movie.

The opening credits rolled. You took a handful of popcorn, the buttery taste melting on your tongue. Jake was quiet, his eyes glued to the screen, but you could feel his tension, the way he sat stiffly, his hands clasped in his lap.

“It’s okay if you fall asleep during the movie,” he said suddenly with a soft voice. “I know the pills can make you drowsy. I won’t be mad.”

“I only took my daily dose.” You shook your head “It might be fine, but thank you.”

He nodded, but he still seemed uncertain. You were hyper aware of everything around you: you felt the warmth of the apartment, the softness of the couch and the gentle hum of the television. And when your eyelids grew heavy, you fought it.

You wanted to be close to him. So you shifted, leaning into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

The fabric of his hoodie was soft, and you could smell the faint scent of detergent and his caramel-like cologne.

He went rigid. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a little high-pitched.

“I’m snuggling?” you said, puzzled. “I snuggle with Sophia all the time when we watch movies.”

He blinked, his glasses reflecting the light from the screen. “Oh, right. Snuggling.” He sounded like the word was foreign to him, like he had never experienced it before.

There was a long pause, then, awkwardly, he shifted his position. He lifted his arm with hesitation, and then draped it over your shoulder. It was stiff, his hand hovering in the air, not quite touching you. He looked like he was trying to solve a complex equation in his head.

You suppressed a smile and settled deeper into his side.

After a moment, his arm relaxed with his hand coming to rest on your arm.

He was warm and his heartbeat steady against your cheek.

The movie continued. Jake began to relax, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your arm. You let yourself sink into the comfort, the simple pleasure of being held.

As the second movie rolled in, Jake found his voice. “Did you know that the actor who plays Iron Man is also in the Oppenheimer movie?”

You hummed, your eyes closed. “No, I didn’t.”

“And in the first movie, there was a scene where he talks with Jarvis, but it was improvised. They kept the scene anwyas.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him. He was staring at the screen, his face animated, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You really know your stuff.” you said.

“I’ve watched these movies a lot,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing. “They’re comforting. The good guy always wins, you know?”

You nodded, resting your head back on his shoulder. The movie played on, and he continued to share little facts, about the bloopers, the references to the comic and the behind-the-scenes stories.

His voice was soft, almost like a whisper, but it filled the room, wrapping around you like a blanket.

By the time the credits rolled on the second film, the apartment was dark except for the glow of the TV.

You stretched, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was past ten pm. Your stomach dropped.

A full day lost. You hadn’t studied, hadn’t prepared for the tests that awaited you next week.

The panic was a slow burn, kindling in your chest, threatening to catch fire.

You took a breath, in and out. You could feel the anxiety trying to take hold, the familiar spiral beginning.

Jake noticed, he always seemed to do that. He shifted, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. “Do you want to go home?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I should, it’s late.”

He didn’t argue. He just stood up, offered you a hand, and helped you to your feet.

You gathered your things while he turned off the TV and grabbed his keys.

“I can drive you.” he said, but you shook your head.

“They’ve thankfully invited Ubers. My dorm is not to far.” You smiled, “I’ll be fine.”

He looked like he wanted to insist, but he held back. “Okay, If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You paused at the door, turning to him. “Thank you, Jake, for tonight. I really had fun.”

His eyes widened, a soft, shy smile spreading across his face. “Me too, I’m glad you came.”

You stepped forward, rose on your tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm, just a little stubbly.

He went completely still, his breath hitching. “Goodnight, Jake.”

You opened the door and stepped out, the cool night air hitting your face.

“Wait!” Jake exclaimed.

He ran outside his door, barefoot and gripping the small Iron Man plushie in his hands. He reached you with a flushed face and that crooked smile, “Here, take this.”

You frowned, “What? Jake, no, it’s yours.”

He shook his head, handing the small gift to you, “Consider it a token of gratitude, for bearing with my constant talking during the movie.”

You smiled, taking it and caressing its furred head, “Alright, I will take good care of it. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The Uber dropped you off in front of your dorm building. You unlocked the door to your dorm, stepping inside. Sophia’s door was closed, so you guessed she was already asleep.

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth, and climbed into bed.

But sleep wouldn’t come. Your mind was restless, turning over the events of the evening.

Your phone was on the nightstand, you had placed it there without even checking on it since you went to the pool with Jake. You reached for it, and your heart froze.

Nineteen missed calls from Jacob and dozen of texts from your friends, all the notifications flooding your screen.

You sat up, your stomach twisting.

You had forgotten.

Oh, God. You had completely forgotten. Today was Juyeon’s birthday party. The one Jacob had been talking about for weeks, and also the one you had promised to attend.

You quickly called him back. It rang three times before he answered. “Where the hell have you been?” His voice was sharp and angry.

You could hear music in the background, the noise of a party. “Jacob, I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of time, it totally flew over my head.”

“Everything flies over your head nowadays, Y/N.” His words were like a slap. “I told you this was important. Juyeon asked about you— everyone asked about you! I had to make excuses.”

You swallowed, the guilt pressing down on your chest. “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well… Juyeon will understand, I’ll give him the gift at college.”

“Stop playing the victim,” he said, his voice cold. “It’s always about you and your feelings. What about me? What about what I need?”

Your throat tightened. “Jacob, I—”

The line went dead. You stared at the screen, the call ended notification blinking back at you. Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and unstoppable. You curled into yourself, hugging your knees, and let the tears fall.

You cried until your head ached, until your pillow was wet. And then, exhausted, you fell into a restless sleep.

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

The days blurred into a routine of classes, study sessions, and anxiety attacks that came and went as a week passed. But through it all, Jake was there.

You grew closer. He became a constant presence in your life. You had coffee together between classes, sitting in the campus café, with him nursing a black coffee while you sipped a caramel latte. 

He would listen to you complain about professors, about the weight of assignments, and he never judged you, never made you feel like a burden.

When you felt the first signs of anxiety creeping in, the racing heart, the shallow breath and the tunnel vision, he would notice before you could even articulate it. 

He would make funny faces, crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks, until a reluctant laugh escaped you. Or he would take your hand, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your palm, grounding you, bringing you back.

You felt lighter around him. Freer. And Sophia, ever the bestest friend, noticed. She had been bugging you for weeks, cornering you in your dorm room, her arms crossed.

“You’ve been hanging out with Limousine Guy a lot,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “And since then, you’ve looked better. Even though Jacob has been sulking like a child.”

“His name is Jake,” you said for the first time, your cheeks warming. “And we’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe you. “Just friends who can’t stop smiling when they talk about each other. And who had sex.”

“Sophia, please. When you meet him, don’t mention that you know about the limousine.” You held out your pinky finger “Promise me.”.

She rolled her eyes, but she relented. “Fine, but only because I love you.”

The day of the hangout arrived. You had arranged to meet at the college bowling alley, a small, slightly run-down place with a few lanes and a snack bar. 

Sophia and you waited near the entrance. She was tapping her foot while scanning the parking lot. “So, where is this mysterious nerd of yours?”

“He’s not mysterious. He’s just… himself?" Then you saw him. He was walking across the parking lot, and he looked like he had changed his outfit multiple times. 

He was wearing a button-up shirt that was slightly too tight, paired with jeans that were slightly too baggy. 

His hair was a mess, like he had been running his hands through it, and his glasses were slightly crooked.

Sophia’s eyes widened. She leaned into you, whispering, “Oh my God… hreally is a nerd.”

“Sophia, be nice.” You nagged and she raised her arms in mock defence. “I am nice..”

Jake reached you. “Hi, Y/N… uhm, hi, Sophia.” He gave a small, awkward wave.

“Hey, Jake,” you said, smiling. “Ready to get destroyed at bowling?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll try my best.”

You rented the shoes, picked out a ball, and found an empty lane. 

Sophia went first, scoring a respectable seven pins. 

Then it was your turn. You picked up the ball, lifted it, and threw it down the lane. It veered sharply to the left and landed in the gutter.

You groaned. “I’m terrible at this.”

Jake stepped up beside you. “Here, let me show you.” He hesitated, then gently placed his hands on your shoulders, adjusting your stance. “Spread your feet a little wider, bend your knees… yes, like that. And when you swing, keep your arm straight.”

He guided your arm, his hand over yours, showing you the proper form. His touch was light, careful, and you could feel the warmth of his body behind you.

“Okay, now try.” he said, stepping back.

You took a breath, swung, and released. The ball rolled down the lane, wobbling slightly, and knocked down four pins. 

Not great, but better.

“There you go,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Sophia watched the exchange with a knowing smirk.

Then it was Jake’s turn. He picked up his ball, took a deep breath, and started his approach. 

But his foot caught on something and he slipped. His legs flew out from under him, and he landed flat on his back with a loud thud. The ball rolled harmlessly into the gutter.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sophia burst out laughing, a loud, unladylike cackle. You followed, giggling with your hand over your mouth.

Jake lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. After a second, he started laughing too, a genuine, warm sound. He didn’t seem embarrassed, just amused at himself.

“I meant to do that.” he said, still laughing.

Sophia and you helped him up, and the rest of the game was filled with laughter, bad scores, and a few more spills. 

After bowling, you walked back to your dorm room. Sophia and you went to the small kitchenette, and Jake offered to help cook. 

He was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with precision and seasoning the chicken perfectly. 

Sophia and you mostly watched, handing him utensils and stealing bites of the ingredients.

Dinner was served on the small coffee table. Sophia, ever the interrogator, started asking questions. “So, Jake, tell me about your family. Any siblings?”

He swallowed a bite of food. “No, I’m an only child. It’s just me and my parents.”

“And your dating history? Any crazy ex-girlfriends we should know about?” She wiggled her browse.

You kicked Sophia under the table, but obviously, she ignored you.

Jake’s ears turned red. “Uh, no. I’ve never really… dated before. I’m not good with people.”

Sophia’s expression softened. “But you’re good with Y/N.”

He glanced at you, then looked down at his plate. “She makes it easy.”

The conversation continued, and Jake answered every question, even the uncomfortable ones. 

He talked about his childhood and his love for science fiction. He was open, vulnerable, and completely genuine.

When he left, Sophia stood beside you at the door, watching his car pull away.

“He’s the one,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I believe he’s the one for you, babes. He has my approval.” 

──── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ────

Jacob’s texts came in like a relentless tide, each notification a small, sharp sting against the quiet peace you had built. 

Cobie: Baby let’s make peace 

Cobie: Come over, i’ll make u feel better 

Cobie: Y/N? Don’t be like that

You glanced at your phone, saw his name flash across the screen, and turned it face down on Jake’s coffee table. 

Instead, you focused on the soft scratch of Jake’s pencil against paper and the way the afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds and painted golden stripes across the hardwood floor. 

This was where you wanted to be. 

There, in his neat little apartment, with his textbooks stacked in perfect alignment and his calculator placed precisely beside his notebook.

You were sprawled across his dining table, your own chaos spread around you like a hurricane: loose papers, highlighters, a half-empty water bottle and a crumpled granola bar wrapper. 

Jake didn’t complain. He simply worked around your mess, occasionally sliding a stray pen back into your reach or pushing a glass of water closer to your elbow.

It was nice studying together a. 

He was quiet and focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through some calculus problem. 

You had your own assignment, but being there made it bearable. The anxiety that usually coiled in your chest, waiting to strike, was absent. 

Your mind was at peace. For the first time in what felt like months, the noise in your head had quieted. 

You smiled to yourself. It really seemed as if fate had reserved something nice for you, after all the chaos and heartbreak. 

Your meeting with him had been so sudden but you were glad he had stuck with you, even though you were a mess. 

He had seen you at your worst, crumbling under the weight of panic attacks, crying in his car and confessing your sins. 

And he had stayed.

But then, as if sensing the calmness of the day, a sudden warmth bloomed between your legs, a familiar sensation that made you freeze. 

You shifted in your seat, feeling a dull ache in your lower abdomen. 

Oh, no. 

You knew that feeling all too well. It was your body’s way of announcing the inevitable.

You excused yourself, your voice coming out a little strained. “I’ll be right back, uhm— can I use the bathroom.”

“Of course” Jake looked up, his eyes scanning your face with that quiet concern he always wore. “Are you okay?”

“Just… I need a minute.” You hurried to the bathroom, closed the door, and checked. 

Yup, it was uour period. 

Great timing, as always. 

You sighed, pressed your forehead against the cool mirror, and tried to think. 

You had left your backpack on the dining table, and you were certain you had a pad in there… somewhere. 

But you didn’t want to walk out and dig through it in front of Jake. 

You cracked the door open, just a sliver, and called out. “Jake? Could you check my backpack? There should be a pad in the front pocket. If you don’t mind.”

You heard his chair scrape against the floor, there was a long pause before his footsteps approached the door.

“Uh,” he said, his voice awkward, hesitant. “You can check in the left cabinet under the sink.”

Confused, you opened the cabinet he mentioned. And there, neatly arranged on the shelf, were pads. Multiple packs of them, of different brands and different sizes. A whole arsenal of menstrual products, lined up like soldiers.

You stared at them for a long moment, your mind struggling to process. You picked one, opened it, and took care of the situation. 

When you came out, Jake was standing near the table, his hands shoved into his pockets and his ears bright red. 

“Jake,” you said, your voice soft. “What are you doing with all those pads?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. “I, um… I bought them… for you.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “You mentioned once that your cycle was irregular, and that sometimes you got caught off guard. I thought… maybe if you ever needed one, you’d have it here. I didn’t know which kind you used, so I got a few different ones. I’m sorry if they’re not the right ones.”

Your heart swelled to the point of pain. He had bought you pads on the off chance you might need them. 

He had thought about you, about your comfort, about something so mundane and yet so deeply personal.

“And they are so expensive!” he added, his voice pitching higher. “I didn’t realize they cost that much. I’m sorry, I should have—”

You crossed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. 

He went rigid, then slowly and hesitantly, his arms came up to hug you back.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured against his shoulder. “You’re so kind. The girl who ends up dating you will be so lucky.”

You felt him tense. For a moment, he didn’t move, and then he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. 

There was a vulnerability there, a rawness that made your breath catch. “Why can’t it be you, that girl?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and honest. “What?” 

He had never been this straightforward before. Usually, he danced around his feelings, hiding behind awkward jokes and shy smiles. But now, he was looking at you with a clear, unwavering gaze.

You stepped back, your arms falling to your sides. “Jake… I’m with Jacob, I’m happy.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re not happy, Y/N. Everyone can tell, Jacob treats you like garbage.”

The words stung, not because they were untrue, but because they pierced through the carefully constructed walls you had built. 

You shook your head, defensive. “We’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. That’s why things have been tense.”

“A rough patch?” His voice rose, incredulous. “He ignores you when you have panic attacks and he calls you a victim when you struggle.”

“He just doesn’t know how to handle the situation.” You shrugged “We will be fine. I’m the one who treated him like garbage, Jake. we slept together while i was still with him.”

Jake scoffed, a strange and scary shadow crossing over his features, “So he can cheat but you can’t?”

Your blood ran cold. “What?”

Jake’s face paled as he realized he had said too much. 

He started pacing, his hands running through his hair and his breathing rapid. “I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have said anything, it wasn’t my place.”

“Told me what?” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “Jake, what are you talking about?”

He looked at you with eyes full of regret. 

Then he sighed, a long, defeated sound, and walked to a shelf. 

He picked up a camera woth a large lens, and brought it to the table. He sat down, and you followed, your legs feeling weak.

He scrolled through the camera’s gallery with fingers trembling slightly. “Remember when I said I was paired with a girl for a project? Minjee?”

You nodded slowly. You remembered him mentioning the name, but you hadn’t thought much of it.

“She brought her boyfriend to the meeting,” he continued, his voice low. “I didn’t mind, because I am used to working alone… but they made out the whole time. It was uncomfortable.” 

He paused, his throat working. “Then, at the beginning of the school year, the football association asked me to take pictures at their celebration party. Jacob is the captain of the team across town, I didn’t know that until that night.” He explained, “I was just there to take photos, I didn’t talk to anyone.”

He turned the camera toward you, and you saw the image on the screen…. and your heart stopped. 

It was a photograph taken at a party, there sitting on a couch, was Jacob. And on his lap, draped over him like she belonged there, was who you thought was Minjee. 

She was laughing, with her hand on his chest, her legs crossed over his thighs. He was smiling down at her, his own arm around her waist and his fingers curled possessively over her hip.

You remembered that night, because you had refused to come all the times he insisted. 

It was the night you had been stuck in your bed, caught in the throes of a panic attack that had left you breathless and shaking. 

You stared at the photograph, your vision blurring. The room spun around you, and you felt the familiar claw of nausea rising in your throat.

“I didn’t know it was him until I saw you two arguing at the gala,” Jake said, his voice barely a whisper. “I connected the dots, I realized who he was. And I knew… I knew you didn’t deserve that. You never deserved a jerk like him, Y/N. You are so much better than he ever gave you credit for.”

You set the camera down, your hands shaking. “I need…” you said, your voice hollow. You gathered your things, shoving papers into your bag with jerky movements. “I need to go.”

“Y/N, please—” Jake’s voice cracked. He reached for you, but you stepped back. “Don’t. I need… I need to think.”

You grabbed your bag and walked toward the door. His voice stopped you, broken and desperate. “Please don’t hate me.”

You turned and saw him standing there with red-dimmed eyes. He looked shattered, like he was afraid he had lost you.

“We’ll talk later,” you promised, and you left.

You walked across the streets, your feet carrying you on autopilot. 

The world was a blur of colors and sounds, but none of it registered. All you could see was that photograph. 

You sat on a bench near the park, pulled out your phone, and saw Jacob’s texts still flooding your screen. 

You: come to the campus park if you want to talk.

He arrived within fifteen minutes, walking toward you with a cautious expression. 

He was wearing his usual confident swagger, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, sitting down beside you. “I’m glad you agreed to see me. I think we should talk.”

You smiled at him, a sweet, almost pitying smile. And then you said the words that had been forming in your chest for weeks. “We should break up.”

He blinked, taken aback. “What the hell?”

“I did something very horrible,” you said, your voice steady. “When we fought, I was with someone else, I cheated on you.”

His eyes widened, his face flushing with anger. But you continued before he could speak.

“But I found out you cheated on me too, with Minjee. At that party you said you couldn’t miss. While I was at home, having a panic attack, alone.”

His mouth opened, then closed. His hands clenched into fists.

“I’m not excusing what I did,” you said. “I’m telling you that we both betrayed each other. And that shows just how toxic we are. We aren’t happy, Jacob, we are holding each other back.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the pavement. “You’re one to talk. I cheated because you were always stuck in your room, always making everything about yourself! You never gave me what I needed, it was inevitable.”

“And yet you stayed,” you said quietly. “Why didn’t you just leave?”

He glared at you, his eyes cold. “Because you’re mentally ill, you know that?” He scoffed. “You need help, you’re a fucking mess. And you cheated on me, you fucking slut.”

The words hit like a slap, but you didn’t flinch. You had expected worse. “We’re done, Jacob. I’m breaking up with you.”

“No,” he snapped. “I’m the one breaking up with you. Don’t you forget that.”

And with that, he turned and stormed away, his footsteps heavy and angry. 

You watched him go, and for a moment, you felt nothing. Just a vast, empty numbness. 

Then, slowly, a small wave of relief washed over you.

It was over.

You weren’t sure how you got home, just that one moment you were standing in the park and the next you were in front of your door.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you heard Sophia’s voice from the kitchen. “Hey! I was thinking we could order takeout tonight. Maybe some Chinese? Or pizza? I’m craving—”

She stopped mid-sentence as she turned and saw you. Her eyes widened, her face shifting from cheerful to concerned in an instant. “Y/N? What happened?”

And you broke. The dam inside you burst, and you crumbled, sobs tearing through your chest. Sophia rushed to you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you tight as you cried into her shoulder.

“I broke up with him,” you choked out. “I did it.”

“Oh, honey…” She stroked your hair, her voice soft and soothing. “You did the right thing… You did the right thing.”

She held you for a long time, letting you cry until your throat was raw and your body was limp. Then she guided you to your bedroom, helped you into your pajamas, and tucked you into bed.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.” she whispered.

You curled up, reaching for the Iron Man plushie Jake had given you. You pressed it to your chest, burying your face in its soft fabric.

You fell asleep to the scent of him.

A hand on your shoulder gently shook you awake. The room was dim as the light from the hallway spilled in through the crack in the door.

Sophia was leaning over you with a soft face, “There’s someone at the door for you.”

You blinked, groggy and disoriented. “Who?”

“Go see for yourself.” She urged. 

You stumbled out of bed with messy hair, your face probably smudged with old mascara. You looked terrible, but you didn’t care. 

You shuffled to the front door, opened it, and found Jake standing there.

He looked awful. His eyes were dull and red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was a disaster. He looked like he hadn’t slept and as if he had aged years in a single night.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

He ran a hand in his already messy hair. “I don’t want to ruin what is happening between us, because I really like it. I really, really like it.”

His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “Even if you don’t like me the way I like you. Even if you only had sex with me because Jacob wouldn’t take care of you, I don’t care. I cherished every moment. Every second with you was special to me.” 

He gulped, anxious, “And if you only want to be friends, I can accept that. I just… I can’t lose you. I’ve never had a real friend before, Y/N. You’re the first person who made me feel like I am not invisible… Please don’t cut me off.”

He stood there, with trembling eyes. He looked so broken, so vulnerable, and your heart ached for him.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. 

He let out a shuddering breath and buried his face in your hair, his hands clutching your back like you were the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” he said, his voice muffled. “I hurt myself by hoping.”

You pulled back, cupping his face in your hands. “Jake, I don’t want to lose what we have either. But I’m not ready for a relationship again… at least not yet. 

You gave him a small smile, “I need to fix myself before I can give you my whole heart.”

He shook his head, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “You don’t need fixing, Y/N. You’re not broken. You’re just… a little lost, and that’s okay. I will wait however long you need, I promise. Just… please don’t cut me off. Please.”

“I promise I won’t.” you said, your voice soft.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek and he closed his eyes like he was savoring the moment. “Go home, Jake. We’ll talk better tomorrow.”

He opened his eyes, and for the first time that night, a small, fragile smile touched his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[jinjjaitsroughh]

the great valentine's heist - s.jy (part one)

𑣲 childhoodbsf! 심재윤 x f!reader

synopsis:  jake sim has been your best friend your entire life–even longer if you count the months spent in your mothers’ wombs. your moms (also best friends) have been hoping, praying, and not-so-discreetly begging for you and jake to be a couple for as long as you can remember. after eighteen years of dealing with it, you’ve had enough. you pitch your solution to jake: pretend you finally are a couple, only to prove the point of how you’re better off as friends. but as the line between what’s real and what’s fake blurs, you start to wonder… are you really?

content: friends to lovers, romcom, fluff, angst if you squint (half of it’s fake), idiots in love, fake dating, layla cameo! rain soaked jake scene, high school au, jake and reader are both seniors in hs and 18, nostalgia,  kys jokes, accidental cuddling, flowers, they don’t know how to be bad for one another lmao, mild language, reader is an overthinker, cheek kisses, real kisses, attempts at humor </3, some text messages, nicknames, they’re kind of really dumb and oblivious i’m sorry, avoidant attachment anxiety (oops), denial of feelings, but they get their crap together in the end i promise!! petty arguments, banter, falling asleep together, and other stuff i probably forgot to mention 

word count:  full fic: 32.4k pt1: 18.5k pt2: 13.9k

now playing ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞: ruin the friendship by taylor swift, illusion by one direction, beginning middle end by leah nobel, valentine by laufey, you’re still the one by shania twain, pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine, anyone by justin bieber, change my mind by one direction, i was made for loving you ft ed sheeran by tori kelly, mary’s song (oh my my my) by taylor swift, catching feelings by justin bieber, night changes by one direction

a/n: ohhhhh my gosh i'm so happy that this fic is finally done! i started writing this in JANUARY and was supposed to finish it by vday, so this is a very delayed release 😭 but i’m so excited to get to share this w you all. thank you soooo much for almost 500 notes on the teaser, that’s insane 🥹🥹🥹 anyway hope u enjoy ! 😛

“I don’t know why she doesn’t just break up with him already,” you say, venting your frustration. Your close friend Quinn and her boyfriend got into another fight, therefore meaning you got to deal with another week listening to how horrible he is.

“Love’s tough, man,” Jake says solemnly, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

The two of you are posted up in his childhood bedroom, the same one where you once ran into the dresser and broke your wrist. You had been playing a very intense game of “rocket tag” (as dubbed by your six year old selves) and barrelled into his dresser in the dark. You felt that deafening crack of bone and immediately started crying. Jake came into the room a second later, first declaring victory as he laughed and tagged you on the shoulder, then kneeled down to ask you if you were okay, reassuring you that everything would be fine. That pretty much sums up the nature of your relationship.

You and Jake have been best friends since birth. Literally. You both had no say in the matter. Your moms have been best friends since high school, remaining just as close despite the odds in college and beyond. As years passed, weddings were thrown, and families expanded, your moms were over the moon to find out that their respective babies would be born exactly a month apart. Jake came first, kicking and screaming his way into the world with a fiery nature only he possessed. A month later you joined him, just as loud but with your own special attitude about you. 

Your first play date was when you were a week old. Jake’s mom brought him over to your house to meet you for the first time, she and your mom both ooh-ing and ah-ing as the two of you did nothing but wriggle next to each other on the floor of the playpen. They snapped a picture which is still framed today in both of your living rooms.

Since then, you’ve never known life without Jake. He’s always just been a known presence, like how there were always stars in the sky and always laundry to be done. There was always Jake. 

You’re currently lying on his bed, on your back with your legs propped up against the wall, your toes pointing toward the ceiling. He’s sitting in the rolling chair by his desk, one leg tucked underneath him, the other swaying the chair back and forth in a comfortable rhythm.

“Like you know anything about love,” you snort, breaking into a laugh. “Your one and only love was your girlfriend of one week in seventh grade.”

Jake looks up from his phone and frowns, his fist flying to his chest as if you stabbed him. “Don’t talk about Naomi like that. My heart never healed from when she dumped me in the hallway after geography.” He winces, then smiles and rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve done any better.”

You scoff indignantly. “Excuse you. I had a beautiful, heated, loving relationship with Nick for one whole month in sophomore year.” 

“Right,” he drawls, “how could I forget? He cornered me after school and threatened me because he saw me get in the car with you when your mom picked you up. Asked me if I was trying to ‘swoop in on his chick.’” 

You purse your lips and sigh dramatically. “Man, he was the one.” 

“Whatever happened to Naomi and Nick anyway?” he asks, still not looking up from his phone. It’s now turned sideways, so you know he just started a game of FIFA. 

“I genuinely believe they’re dating now,” you say seriously. “I saw someone post something a while ago.”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he looks up at you. “Seriously? Huh. Good for them.” 

“Randomest couple ever,” you comment. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Hm,” Jake ponders, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Honestly, I think they’re a good match. She was always asking me to, like… ‘protect her’ or something. Like I could do much with the wide array of seventh grade muscles in my arsenal. Nick’s the guy for her.”

You guffaw, sounding like a chicken, sending Jake into his own fit of laughter. While you’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, his bedroom door opens and his mom pokes her head in. 

“Hey, kiddos,” she says with a warm smile on her face. “Just came to see if you guys wanted any snacks.” She looks from your comfortable lounging to the happy expressions on your faces. “You guys are just too cute,” she remarks, shaking her head. “Laughing like an old married couple.”

“Mooooom,” Jake groans, throwing his head back. “Don’t be weird.” 

You laugh again. “Thanks, Mrs. Sim. Don’t old married couples fight, though? Must be a sign we’re not meant to be.” You shrug defeatedly. Jake cackles. 

“Oh,” she tuts, pouting. “You guys just need to stop being so opposed to it and give in. It’s bound to happen someday.” 

Both you and Jake grimace at the same time at the suggestion of you two as a couple. 

“I’m good, actually,” you decline with a pained face. 

“No, thank you.” Jake actually fake gags. 

Your smile drops. “Okay, dude, I’m not that unappealing. Tone it down.” 

He nods in apology. “My bad, gang.” He turns back to his mom. “I think we’re good, Mom.” He smiles sweetly. “Thanks.” 

“Just call if you need anything,” she says before leaving the room. 

“Thank you!” you call out after her as you can hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. “Your mom is the best,” you sigh. “I would marry you just so I could have her as my mother-in-law.” 

Jake just blinks at you. “Your love for me is so pure.” 

“Seriously, though,” you say, staring at the ceiling fan turn slowly. “Don’t you find it so funny how they’ve pushed for us to be a thing, since, like, literal birth? When are they gonna call it quits?”

“Have you met either of our mothers?” he questions like you’ve been replaced by a robot. “Never, that’s when.” 

“I don’t get why we’d ever risk ruining our friendship, you know?” you expand, still watching the propellers spin. “Like, imagine if we dated and were just the worst couple ever.”

Jake scoffs and leans back in his chair. “That’s probably what it would take for them to finally drop this whole thing.” 

A light bulb goes off in your brain. 

You sit up so fast you’re light headed, your blood flow not evening out yet. 

“That’s it!” you exclaim excitedly, a manic grin on your face. 

His brows furrow. “What’s it?” 

“That’s how we get them to stop,” you explain, planning it all out in your head. “We pretend that we’re finally a couple, but then we act so incompatible and just awful together that they’ll see we’re better off as friends.” 

His eyes flicker, a spark of intrigue burning behind them. “And we make them think that we are just so terrible together, even go through a nasty breakup right in front of them.” He’s now wearing an evil grin matching yours. 

“Exactly!” you fight the urge to scream. “Make it so bad that they never even bring up the topic of us dating again. Like they think we’re so traumatized but we’re still friends.” 

“Ooh-hoo,” Jake whistles out, low. “I love your twisted brain. When should we do it, though?” 

“Valentines.” You snap your finger when the thought comes to you, your brain now working overtime. “Think about it. The holiday of love?” 

His smile grows even wider, if possible. “We act like we have some big plans for the day, then royally screw them up.” He’s getting that crazy look in his eye that you know all too well. “It all goes down in flames.” 

You nod in enthusiastic agreement. “It’s perfect.” You can’t help but rub your hands together maniacally. “So how should we start?” 

“Well, Valentines is in what, like two weeks, right?” Jake asks. “I say we start dropping hints about it now, so that by the time the big day rolls around, we’ve got all this build up that we could crush.” 

You simply hum, nodding your head but zoning out. You’re scheming in that twisted brain of yours, as Jake called it. This will take strategic planning and diligent execution. It couldn’t just be a one and done type deal, you needed credibility. It had to be believable. 

“I’m gonna start saying like, ‘Oh my goodness, Mom, Jake looked so handsome today,’” you announce. Consider this the first phase of the plan. 

Jake snickers. “Are you serious?” he asks, fighting back another laugh. “Is that gonna work?” 

You groan and stare at him with tired eyes. “You have no idea how much my mom will freak out when she hears those words come out of my mouth. I kid you not, every time we come back from seeing you, she says something like, ‘Don’t you think Jake looked nice today?’ or ‘You two looked so good together, you’d make such an attractive couple.’” 

“Holy crap,” he mumbles, dragging his hands over his face, grinning like a little kid. “This is gonna be so much fun.” 

Before you go home that night, you and Jake agree to start setting your plan into motion. Operation Big Fake Date with Jake starts now. 

The name is a work in progress. 

Jake is very keen on it.

You are not. 

The first phase: laying the groundwork.

You descend down the stairs and go say goodbye to his parents before you leave as per usual. Jake follows close behind you, ready to strike when needed.  

“Bye, Mr. Sim!” you call out to his dad, who’s sitting on his favorite recliner in the living room. 

He smiles affectionately at you. “See you, Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you over.” He looks from you to Jake, like he’s in on a secret that you two don’t know about. He just chuckles to himself and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the sports game he was watching on the TV. 

Jake’s mom is sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of hot tea like she does every evening. You remember the first time you saw her like this. You were five years old and sleeping over at their house while your parents were out of town for a wedding. You and Jake were so excited about a two day long sleepover, you had barely bothered to say goodbye to your parents. He fell asleep in minutes, exhausted from all the playing you had done earlier in the day. 

You, on the other hand, tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to close your eyes. You missed your parents. You felt guilty for not saying goodbye long enough. What if they decided you were a bad daughter and didn’t want to come back? Your five year old brain was then racing with ridiculous scenarios in which you were disowned by your family, shattering your tiny heart.

Eventually you gave up, taking your blanket with you and waddling down the stairs, eyes puffy and hair a mess. Jake’s mom was sitting in the same spot with the same mug, reading a book. She caught you out of the corner of her eye, looking at your sniffling as you walked toward her. 

“Y/N, sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked, looking at your sad eyes and red cheeks. 

You tried to tell her how you felt, but no words came out. Instead, you started crying again. 

She smiled at you with sympathy and moved off her chair toward you, crouching down to your height. “Hey, Bug,” she said, wiping your tears with the back of her hand. “Do you wanna come sit with me for a little bit?” 

You nodded through your tears and followed her to the couch, where she wrapped your blanket around you and cradled you on her lap. She just sat with you in silence, stroking your hair the way you like in a steady rhythm that made you sleepy. Your crying subsided, only a few residual sniffles coming out every now and then. 

“I miss mommy and daddy,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. 

“Aww,” she cooed, reaching up to rub your back soothingly. “I know, sweetheart. But they’ll be back before you know it.” 

You raised your head and looked at her with an intense stare for a toddler. “Promise?” you asked as you wiped your nose on your sleeve. 

She smiled down at you and lightly pinched your cheek, crinkling her nose at you. “Promise.”

You instantly felt at ease. You always knew you could trust Mrs. Sim. Soon after, you drifted off and fell asleep on her lap. Instead of returning you upstairs to Jake’s pull-out trundle bed, she stayed with you on the couch all night. 

Needless to say, you love her like she’s your own mother. 

“You heading out, Bug?” she asks when she sees you walking over. The nickname has still stuck even after all these years. 

It started when your moms had taken you and Jake out for a picnic when you were 5 months and Jake was 6 months. A ladybug landed on your nose and you just stared up at it, giggling. The moms started calling you their little lovebug, and eventually ‘Bug’ became your second moniker. There was once an incident where six year old Jake, wanting to be included too, pitched his own nickname idea: Worm. He doesn’t like talking about it. You still call him by it when you want to get on his nerves, which is fairly often. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, going to hug her goodnight. “It’s getting late and I think my mom wants me home.”

“Oh, please,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “You know you’re welcome to stay over any night.”

You smile, never failing to feel welcome in the Sim home. They’ve told you time and time again that you’re like an honorable additional child to them. Not to mention all the times Mrs. Sim adds in a sing-song voice, ‘Y/N Sim has a nice ring to it…’

“I know, I know,” you agree, “but I have some stuff to do at home. Besides, Jake is sick of me.” 

“Never,” Jake says from his spot against the wall. He’s leaning against it with his arms crossed, a smug but soft smile on his face. He grabs his keys off the hook and walks over to you and his mom, swinging them around on his pointer finger. “But your mom would prefer if you went home to clean your room.” 

“Shh,” you silence him, putting your finger up to his lips. “These deeds must not be thought.” 

He snaps his teeth to try and bite your finger, to which you speedily retract your hand and exclaim, “EW,” then flick him on the forehead. “Cannibal.” 

“Acquired taste,” Jake corrects, grinning to show off his fabulous smile and pointed canines. The four years he had braces surely paid off. “C’mon, let’s head out.” He gestures with his arm toward the door. “Get out of my house so I can go to bed.” 

You roll your eyes at him and hug his mom once more. 

She whispers in your ear, “You let me know if he annoys you too much.” She winks when you pull back. 

“You’ll be the first to know, trust me.” You force out a giggle, trying to look giddy yet shy. “But honestly… I’m starting to think he’s not that bad,” you whisper back. 

It’s comical how her eyes widen and her face lights up, as if all her dreams are coming true. 

“Anyway,” you perk up, acting normal again, “you’re right, we should go.” You grab him by the hand and drag him out the door, shouting a goodbye as you exit. 

“GOSH, Y/N, YOU’RE HOLDING MY HAND SO TIGHT,” Jake says, making sure he’s loud enough that his parents could hear him through the front door. You’re not even holding hands anymore, just putting on a show. 

“YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT,” you shout at the same volume as you walk toward his car. Both of you then fake obnoxiously loud laughter before you get in. 

“Okay,” he whispers when the car doors shut. “That was good.” 

“Why are you whispering? They can’t hear us anymore, you bozo.” You look at him like he just spawned onto earth. 

“Leave me alone,” he complains, making a snarky face at you, “you can never be too safe.”

“Whatever,” you remark and get back on topic. “Yes, that was good. I can already picture your mom’s face behind that door.” 

Jake lets out a breathless laugh. “She probably went over to my dad and asked him to check on the savings account for our wedding.” 

“Oh, you guys have one of those too?” you say sarcastically. “Thought it was just me. It’ll be the event of the century.”

He just laughs again, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He wordlessly hands you his phone to play some music. You’re always DJ when Jake drives. You go to your shared Spotify mix and play Illusion by One Direction. As he turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the driveway, you start cooking up the next part of your plan. 

“Phase one: part one is done,” you announce over the music. “Now we gotta start dropping hints to my mom.”

“Should we just do it now when I drop you off?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “Like, I don’t know… we go in all lovey-dovey or whatever.”

“I like the way you think, Sim,” you commend. “We can work with that.”

You pull up to your house and Jake kills the engine. 

“You got it?” you ask him, making sure he knows the game plan.

“Got it,” he affirms. 

He walks you to your front door and the two of you enter, taking your shoes off at the entryway. 

“I’m home!” you announce, walking into the kitchen.

You find your mom hunched over the stove, taking out something out of the oven. She turns at the sound of your voice and smiles big when she sees you and Jake. 

“Hello!” she greets, removing her oven mitts and shuffling over to the two of you. 

She hugs you first and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, then beams at Jake with open arms. He accepts the hug with equal enthusiasm. You smile to yourself watching them, knowing that Jake has just as special a bond with your mom as you do with his. She used to call him ‘her Jakey’, a nickname he somewhat grew out of once you guys reached high school. His heart still warms whenever it slips out, though. 

“Hey, Mrs. L/N,” he smiles into the hug. “Hope you didn’t mind me keeping this one out too late.” 

“You could keep her forever if you wanted to,” your mom teases, looking at you like she’s waiting for you to say something about it. Usually you would groan out a complaint and tell her to stop it, that things aren’t like that between you and Jake. 

Now, though, you try to hide a smile and look away, flustered.  Your mom’s reaction is identical to her best friend’s. 

“If only she’d let me,” Jake says back with a sigh. “I’m trying, trust me.” He winks at you, to which you blush and roll your eyes.

Your mom looks like she just won the lottery. 

“So, whatcha baking?” Jake changes the subject, peering over at the counter hungrily. 

You can tell your mom is trying to remain calm at the obvious development between the two of you. She looks like she’s in a trance before she snaps back into focus. “Oh! It’s your favorite, actually.” 

His eyes light up. “Nanaberry bites?” 

At her nod, Jake practically sprints over to the counter, pinching his fingers greedily while he feasts his eyes on the treats. Nanaberry bites were your mom’s specialty and Jake’s favorite snack since forever. They’re strawberry banana bread baked in mini cupcake tins, heaven in every bite. When Jake was still learning how to talk, he had condensed the name to ‘nanaberry.’ Everyone thought it was adorable and started calling them that, too. 

“Can I have one? Please?” he begs, mouth practically drooling. 

“Of course,” your mom says. “Just be careful, they’re still hot.” 

He plucks one from the pan and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, panting from the heat as it burns his tongue. “Ah, ah-“ 

You take a seat at the counter beside him. “She said be careful,” you chide, taking one for yourself and carefully tearing it in half so it releases some steam. You pop one half into your mouth. “Mm,” you hum approvingly. “So good, Mom.” 

“Thanks, Bug,” she says sweetly. “Why don’t you send some home with Jake? For his parents,” she offers. 

“Oh my gosh,” Jake whines through his mouthful of nanaberry. “You’re the best.”  

Your mom smiles at him lovingly and goes to get a tupperware container for him to take home. While her back is turned, Jake looks to you and raises his eyebrows with his hand in an OK symbol. You nod quickly and he pumps his fist in the air for a millisecond before your mom turns back around. You resume your content smile and Jake goes back for a second helping of nanaberry bites. 

“I was just on the phone with your mom,” she says to Jake while she places a few of the mini muffins into a container. “She said you two were on your way over here.”

You and Jake make eye contact and smile at each other knowingly. You can see your mom’s eyes nearly pop out of her head but pretend not to notice. 

She clears her throat and eyes the two of you, then starts speaking slowly, like she’s testing the waters. “You know, she said you were heading over because it was getting late and Jake was tired…” 

“Oh,” Jake remarks like he’s surprised by this. “Did she? I feel fine. Great, even.” 

“Really?” Your mom tries to act nonchalant about this fact, like she isn’t overanalyzing the situation. You see right through her. She just hums. 

“No,” you say to Jake. “Go home. I’m tired. Of you.” 

Jake’s jaw drops in fake hurt. “You wound me. I just wanted to spend some more time with you.” He pouts. 

You sigh and go over to him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his hoodie and pulling him up. “C’mon, Worm,” you say. 

“Hey,” he warns. “What did I do to even deserve being called Worm right now?” 

“You exist,” you simply state. 

Jake looks at your mom and points a finger at you. “She’s bullying me!” He grabs the container of baked goods before you start dragging him away from the counter. 

“You like it,” you object, still pulling him toward the door. 

Your mom’s boisterous laughter echoes throughout your house as you stop at the door. You drop his arm and stare into his eyes, setting into motion the next part of the plan. You pull Jake into a full hug, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders. 

An important piece of information would provide helpful context here. You and Jake do not hug. 

You were physically comfortable with one another, obviously. There was no problem with the two of you being close. More often than not, you’d be found with Jake’s head on your shoulder or vice versa, sitting close enough that your arms touched, even holding hands was a casual occurrence. 

But hugging? 

That was crossing a line. 

You’ve both hated hugging ever since you were little. You thought it was uncomfortable and awkward, the way your bones would contort when Jake squeezed you too hard, how weird it felt to be flush against one another. He hated it just as equally. He didn’t like how sweaty your neck was as a kid, how your bony elbows would dig into his sides, or the way your chin would poke his shoulder. 

“Is she looking?” you whisper, your cheek pressed against Jake’s chest.  

“I think so,” he murmurs into your hair. 

After approximately 3 more seconds—long enough to mean something, not long enough to be obviously performative—you step back from him, peering up into his eyes. 

“Call me when you get home,” you tell him as he puts his shoes back on. 

“Of course,” he replies, smiling. He waves to your mom, who is watching you from afar, dumbstruck. “Goodnight! Thanks for the nanabread bites.” 

“Anytime!” she calls back to him. 

“Okay, now get out,” you say as you shove him out the door. “Bye!” You slam the door in his face. 

You turn around to see your mom standing there like she just witnessed a murder. Then her expression shifts from that of shock to a smug one. 

“So,” she asks casually, going to fiddle with some more baking stuff, “anything new going on?” 

You take a seat at the counter again. “With me?” You pause and pretend to think for a second. “Hmm, not really.” 

“So things with you and Jake are…?” She looks at you like she’s unsure if you’re going to giggle or go on your usual tangent about how you guys are just friends. 

“They’re… things.” Your noncommittal answer gives a hint of mystery, yet still the promise of something more. “Don’t you think he’s matured a lot recently?” You let your gaze drift to something across the room, eyes losing focus.

“How so?” she pushes a little further. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. “Lately he’s just been so… dreamy.” 

“Dreamy?” Your mom repeats, a satisfied smile slowly but surely making its way onto her face. You rarely ever called Jake anything better than ordinary looking. 

“Maybe he’s always been like this and I’ve been in denial,” you think out loud. “Maybe. It’s just… different.” A yawn overtakes you and you give in, stretching your arms above your head. “I’m tired. I’m gonna head upstairs,” you get up from your seat and give your mom a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight. Love you!” 

“Love you, too!” she says back. You’re already halfway up the stairs. 

Once you’re safe in your room, you flop onto your bed and pull out your phone. You go to call Jake, but before you can, his contact pops up on your screen in an incoming call. Perfect timing. 

“Hey,” he answers when you pick up. You can tell from the audio quality and muted background noises that he’s still driving. “How’d it go?”

“Great!” you reply, excitement coursing through your veins. “I called you dreamy and she looked like I had just gifted her an all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas.”

Jake cackles over the phone. “Awesome. I really think the hug sold it.” 

“Same,” you agree. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s already texted your mom about it. Are you almost home?”

“I’m pulling in now,” he says. You hear him park the car and turn the engine off, his phone disconnecting from the bluetooth. “The lights are still on.” His voice is clearer now. “My mom’s probably waiting for me to walk in so she can celebrate their prophecy coming true.”

You laugh because it’s true, then freeze when you hear a creak outside your door. Your mom. “I think I’m being surveillanced,” your voice drops to a whisper. “My mom’s outside the door.”

“Oh, I got it,” Jake says. The car door slams over the line and you can hear him walking the path to his front door. “Put me on speaker. I’ll put you on, too.” 

You do what he says, making sure your volume is maxed out. 

You hear him turn the doorknob and enter in. “Y/N,” he says at a loud but normal volume. “Hey. Just calling to let you know I’m home now.”

Catching on to his plan, you respond, “I’m glad, Jake. Thanks again for dropping me off.”

“Of course.” His voice echoes somewhat and you can picture that he’s passing through his living room. “Anything for you. Oh, hey, Mom,” he greets her briefly. “I’m on the phone with Y/N, do you need anything before I head to bed?” 

“Oh, no,” you hear her say in the distance, her smile evident in her voice. You can already see her sitting on the couch, smiling contentedly like all is finally right in the world. “You go ahead.” 

“Love you, Mom. Goodnight! So, Y/N, how do you feel about going out tomorrow?” With that, he barrels up the stairs to his room. “Okay, your turn,” he whispers into the phone. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes.” You hold your phone up high so that the sound carries. “Go for it.” 

“I had a really nice time today, Y/N,” he says loud enough that he could be heard through the door. “I know this might sound weird but,” he breathes in and out. “I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Jake.” You laugh softly. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“That’s so long from now,” he complains. “Like, twelve whole hours.” 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait it out, then,” you tease. 

He groans but then lets out a light laugh. “You’re killing me.” 

“That’s what I was born for,” you joke. Partly true, in a way. “You’ll never know peace as long as I’m here.” 

“If peace means a life without you, then I hope I never know it.” His words hang in the air over the line. You know that it’s just to play into your story, but you can’t help the warmth that settles in your chest when you hear him. Even if it’s performative, it’s sweet. 

You can’t let Jake know you think that, though. “You’re so sappy,” you say. “Somebody watches too many romcoms.”

That much is true. It’s not a widely known fact, but Jake is a romantic comedy enthusiast. He prefers the term ‘tenderhearted cinephile.’ His Letterboxd profile is impressive, stacked with films spanning across genres and decades. Ask him about the golden age of romcoms and you’ll be stuck for the next hour listening to him spew about the superiority of filmmaking in the 90s and 00s.

“I find them inspiring,” he defends. “They help me out with real life events.” 

You laugh which turns into a yawn. It’s been a long day of scheming and pretending to have feelings for your best friend. 

He hears it. “You falling asleep on me?” 

Reflecting on the rest of your endeavors, you think you have enough evidence for today. “I’m getting kind of tired,” you yawn again. “I think I’ll start getting ready for bed soon.” 

“Aw,” Jake says solemnly. “I wanted to talk more.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” you assure him. “I always do.” 

“Okay,” he relents, drawing out the vowels. “Fine.” 

“So…” you try and figure out how to end the call. “Goodnight?”

Jake then has a stroke of genius and pulls out the oldest trick in the book. 

“No,” he tells you. “You hang up first.” The cheesiest line spoken by lovesick teenagers worldwide. His romcom marathons have been leading up to this very moment. 

“No, you,” you tease back. 

He groans dramatically. “At the same time?”

“At the same time,” you repeat. 

“Okay,” he starts counting off. “Three, two, one!” 

You hit the red button to hang up. The call ends. A second later, you get a text notification from Jake. 

jakurrr:

was that good 

i felt like shakespeare bro 

you:

YES AMAZING 

the line about never knowing peace was golden 

jakurrr:

oh that 

i was talking about the whole ‘you hang up first’ bit 

i’ve thought the other thing for a long time actually 

you:

seriously? 

jakurr:

yeah

i think i had an epiphany in 8th grade 

you:

that’s actually adorable 

ru in love w me tell me now 🥹

jakurrr:

shut up ho

like i’d want ur stank self 

you:

KYS OMG

ion een curr fr 

jakurrr:

oh yeah?

if i’m gone then who’s gonna be apart of your little plan

you’d be bored without me

you:

man i hate you 

jakurrr:

😛

thought so

you:

wait lemme change ur contact name

for realism 

[screenshot] 

princess aegyo golden baby puppy sim jaeyun🤤🤤:

ARE WE DEADASS

BRO DO NOT NAME ME THAT 

you:

you’re no fun 

this is why we’re not together 

[screenshot]

how bout that 

jakey <3:

see that’s better 

NORMAL LOOKING

i’ll change urs too

[screenshot]

you:

i will not stand to be called

 ‘yn pookie wookie bear’ by ANYONE

r you serious 

jakey <3:

OBVIOUSLY THAT WAS A JOKE AS WELL 

[screenshot] 

this good??? 

You load the picture he sent. It’s a screenshot of your profile with the contact name ‘bug bite :).’ 

you:

STOPPP THATS SO GOOD

SAUR CUTE AUR EM GEE 

jakey <3:

are you mocking my accent 

you:

😐

so not everything is about you actually 

why do you even have an accent again 💔💔

#poser #notanaussienational 

jakey <3:

MY PARENTS HAVE ACCENTS??? 

you:

ok and 

they lived there they have an excuse 

you’re just attention seeking 

jakey <3:

i love you too 🫩 

you:

🥰

jakey <3:

ok but fr im actually BEAT 

i’m gonna go to sleep 

goodnight bug

you:

goodnight worm

jakey <3:

SHUT UP I WAS SIX 

you:

<3

i’ll lyk the next phase of the plan tmr 😈

You turn your phone off and go get ready for bed. Later, as you lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling in the dark, you feel so accomplished. Operation Big Fake Date with Jake was off to a spectacular start.

The next few days follow the same cycle. You and Jake hang out, act suspiciously close and unusually nice to one another, then linger around when you’re supposed to say goodbye. Rinse and repeat. Phone calls become a nightly occurrence as well. 

They span longer now, past the necessary sophistry and conversation constraints. Last night, you’d stayed on the phone for three hours ranking your favorite birthday parties of years past. He chose his 5th birthday as his top pick. It was a dinosaur themed slip-n-slide party with a volcano cake.  You chose your 12th birthday. It was simple but fun, a day spent at the pottery studio with your closest friends. Jake had made a frighteningly deformed excuse for a vase and gifted it to you, signed with his handprint. You keep it on your dresser still, changing the flowers when you remember to. 

Now that the foundation has been laid, it’s time to start making bigger moves. 

The second phase: building your credibility. 

“A movie night?” your mom asks when you bring up the subject. “You wanna have Jake over for a movie night?”

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “We do movie nights all the time.” Just two weeks ago, he was over to binge watch all The Hunger Games movies with you. It was a nearly 12 hour ordeal, going in chronological order from Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes through Mockingjay - Part 2. It took sheer willpower and four energy drinks to stay awake the whole time. 

“I know,” she says, well aware of the fact. “You’ve never asked before, is all.” 

“Just double checking,” you smile at her. “So, yes?” 

“Of course,” she answers, “You know Jake is welcome over anytime.” 

You clap your hands together. “Awesome, thank you!” 

You text him to come over around 6:00 and start planning your attack. Barricading the living room with fluffy blankets, big pillows, and enough snacks to feed a small country. 

At 5:50, there’s a knock at the door. You get up to get it, but your mom beats you to it. 

“Hi, Jake,” she greets him, probably bringing him in for a hug. You can’t see the door from your spot on the couch. “Oh my! These are beautiful!” 

You’re confused at what she’s talking about, but then Jake rounds the corner, holding a sizable bouquet of tulips in his hand. 

“Wow,” your jaw drops. “What are those for?” 

“For you,” he says, holding them out to you when you walk over. “Or,” he coughs, “for the vase. I figured it was time you switched the flowers out.” 

Your grin is huge as you take them from him. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to.” 

“I know,” he smiles back. “But I wanted to.” 

“I’ll go put them in the vase real quick,” you tell him. “Be right back.”

When you come back from showing the flowers to their new home, Jake is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. You take a seat next to him and check over your shoulder to see if your mom’s nearby. 

You lean in and whisper, “The flowers?! So good.” You fist bump him. “You didn’t tell me about it.” 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he whispers. “Thought of it after our call last night.” 

“Genius.” You nudge his shoulder and smile.  You lean back into the couch and tuck your feet in under you. “So,” you say regularly again, grabbing the remote. “What do you wanna watch?” 

“You planned this whole thing and don’t even have a movie picked out?” Jake smirks then stretches his arms so that one of them falls behind your shoulders. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says with a wink.

You scoff playfully and go to shrug his arm off, but he tightens it around your shoulder. You give up the fight and relax, melting further into his side. Scrolling through movie options on the TV, you get to the romcom section and give Jake a knowing look. “Thoughts from the expert?” 

He looks thoughtfully at the screen, fist coming up to rest under his chin. “What are we thinking? Classic? More rom, less com? Sad ending? New?” 

“Classic. Not too old, though, relatively modern. More rom, less com. Happy ending,” are the requirements you give him. 

“Got it,” he says immediately, clicking through titles until he lands on the one he’s looking for. “Perfect.” 

You’re not surprised when you see what he’s picked. You should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. “Oh, of course.” 

“What?” he asks defensively, laughing. “It checks all the boxes! And it’s so good!” 

You can’t help but giggle a little. “I just can’t believe that To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before is still your favorite movie after all this time.” 

“That’s because it’s a timeless masterpiece,” he explains logically. “And I think it’s the perfect choice. We could watch it for inspiration.”

“For?” you question. 

He raises his eyebrows like it’s obvious. “Fake dating, hello?” He lowers his voice, “we’re basically the same as them. Take notes.” 

“Shoot, you’re right.” You reach for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Jake Sim, friend to women. Soft guy.” 

He scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re like, you know,” you pop a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Soft. Considerate. Has a mental catalogue of romantic comedies. Drinks matcha with strawberry cold foam.” 

“God forbid a guy was raised right and has interests.” He grabs a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth. “And elevated taste in beverages.”

“Classy,” you remark sarcastically, taking the remote from him and pressing play on the movie. 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles a comeback through his chewing. “Whatever,” he says after he swallows. “Let’s look coupley.” 

Agreeing with his suggestion, you turn and lean further into him, curled up so that you’re snuggled up even closer under his arm. Jake shifts further back, sighing comfortably as he crosses his legs and props them up on the coffee table. You’re close enough you can feel his breath hitting the top of your head. 

“This is good,” he whispers down at you. His hand starts absentmindedly tracing patterns on your upper arm.

You smile up at him and turn your attention back to the TV. You’ve watched this film about a million times, but it never gets old. Really, you’re the reason it’s Jake’s favorite movie anyway. You forced him to watch it with you in seventh grade and the rest is history. He was hooked. After that, the two of you watched the two sequels and the spin-off series together, offering every piece of insight and critique. 

Around the time Lara Jean and Peter go to the ski lodge, you feel your eyes start to get heavy. You glance at the clock on the wall. It’s barely 7:00. But between the soft illumination of the TV screen, the chill of the room, and the steady beat of Jake’s heart, you’re helpless to the lull of sleep pulling you under. I’ll just shut my eyes for a second, you think to yourself. That’s the last thing you remember before passing out. 

The credits roll and the sequel, P.S. I Still Love You, starts playing automatically. By now, Jake has noticed that you’ve gone quiet. He peeks down to see your face, only to be met with you knocked out cold, limp against his body. He finds himself smiling at your predictability. You always fell asleep on movie nights, no matter how hard you tried not to. He shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and you let out a sigh, burrowing closer to him. His shoulder is aching from being in the same position for nearly two hours, but he doesn’t want to wake you. You look so peaceful. 

He tries to prop you up against the cushions, attempting to maneuver his arm out from behind your neck. He succeeds and you fall back against the pillows, toward the other end of the couch. Wanting to be more comfortable, he shifts his body so that he’s laying horizontally on the couch, resting his head on his arm. A couple minutes pass before you start wiggling on your side of the couch, tossing and turning. He’s about to laugh at you when you, still asleep, adjust your position, flipping around and ending up right next to him. It’s like even unconscious, your body knows he’s near, and therefore must be close to him. You’re now laid right next to him, your head on his chest. 

Jake chuckles lightly to himself at how clingy you are when you sleep. He considers waking you up, or moving you back, but just then, you shiver against him. It would just be plain heartless of him to banish you to the far end of the couch, cold and lonely, wouldn’t it? He reaches slowly for the blanket thrown over the top of the couch, careful not to move too much as to not wake you. He drapes it across the two of you, welcoming the warmth. You sigh contentedly, one arm coming up to lay across his chest, hand dangling off the couch. He accepts his fate as your newfound pillow and goes back to watching the movie, making a mental note to wake you up when this one ends. 

He doesn’t make it much further himself, though. By the time John Ambrose shows up, Jake can feel that familiar weight behind his eyelids. He doesn’t bother looking at the clock, but he knows it can’t be later than 9:00. Surely that’s still early enough for a quick power nap, right? Everything feels so serene at the moment. The dialogue of the movie has been reduced to background chatter. The fluffy material of the blanket that’s insulating him despite the coolness outside. You, your weight on top of him a comfortable reminder, grounding him. He lets his eyes close, just for a fraction of a second. Soon enough, he’s gone. 

You wake up first. Sunlight streams through the blinds of your living room, rays creating patterns on the carpet. The first thing you notice is that you are not in your bed. The second thing is that you’re rendered incapable of moving. There’s an arm wrapped securely around your shoulder. You look up and see Jake sleeping soundly, his breathing soft and even, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. He looks… beautiful. Golden beams washing over his face and his hair, mussed from sleep, falling over his forehead. Looking at him like this, you feel strange. Even though the room is warmer now and you have a blanket around you, you feel a chill run through your body. A weird, dull ache settles in your chest. Before you can decipher what this means or why it’s happening, Jake stirs, letting out a deep breath that turns into a yawn. You quickly put your head back where it was before, resting against his chest, and pretend to be asleep. 

You feel him lift his head to look down at you. As if realizing what position the two of you are in, he releases his arm from around you. You start shifting then, figuring that’s a reasonable event to cause you to awake. You push yourself from off him and sit up, rubbing your eyes. 

“Good morning,” you say groggily, followed by a yawn. “Did we fall asleep?”

“Guess so,” Jake replies, voice grovelly from sleep. “I didn’t mean to. I was gonna go home after the second movie. Sorry.” His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.

You shake your head at him. “No, it was totally okay. I haven’t slept that well in ages, actually.” There was an abnormal assurance you felt last night. Like being next to him meant that sleep could truly be an escape, that nothing from the real world could infiltrate into your dreams. 

He smiles softly, glad to be of assistance. You just sit and stare at each other for a few seconds, brains still waking up. Jake then blinks and the smile falls from his face. 

“Ah, crap,” he says, turning and shuffling through the blankets and pillows, “I didn’t tell my mom I was sleeping over. Where’s my phone?”

You get up and start to help him look for it when your mom walks in. She’s holding her usual morning cup of coffee, taking a sip and looking at the two of you with nothing short of total adoration. 

“It’s fine,” she announces to you both, “I talked to your mom last night, let her know you’d be staying the night.” 

Relief washes over Jake’s face. “Thank you so much,” he says with utmost gratitude. “I was worried she might have my head on a stick.”

“She was fine with it,” she assured him. “Just said to let her know next time.” Your mom glances at the clock. “She’ll be here soon, actually.”

“My mom?” Jake asks in surprise.

Your mom nods, “She’s coming over for breakfast.”

You and Jake look at each other, and you know you’re both thinking the same thing. A perfect opportunity to forward your plan. 

“That’s great,” you proclaim, silently communicating to him with your eyes. Of course, he picks up on it.

“We’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you.” Jake finishes for you. “Together.” 

You swear your mom could almost drop her coffee cup and start doing backflips out of happiness. She knows what you’re getting at. It’s obvious. Wanting to appear composed, however, she simply takes another sip and hums in acknowledgment before disappearing into the kitchen again.  

When she’s out of view, you and Jake quietly high five, saluting your impromptu script. 

“That was good,” you mouth. “Quick thinking.”

“We work good together,” he mouths back with a quick smile. 

A couple minutes later, you hear the front door open. Jake’s mom strolls into the house, holding a platter of breakfast sandwiches like an offering. Your mom happily welcomes her and gives her a hug, making a comment about how delicious the sandwiches look. 

You then hear her murmur under her breath, “They’re over there,” and you know she’s referring to you and Jake.

You’re both still lounging on the couch, more similar to your placements from last night as opposed to this morning. Your legs are curled under you, your head resting on Jake’s shoulder while he props his feet on the coffee table again. You decided to finish the movie marathon from where you left off last night.

“So,” Jake’s mom greets as she walks into the living room. “How was the last minute sleepover?” She sits down on the arm rest of the couch. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jake apologizes. “I would’ve texted you if I had known.” 

“We just fell asleep,” you back him up. “It was an accident.” Neither of you make a move from your current position. 

She laughs at your scrambling up an explanation, ruffling his hair playfully. “You guys are fine,” she says. “You just fell asleep, right? We don’t need to talk to you guys about-“

“Oh, my gosh, Mom!” Jake exclaims, hands flying up to cover his ears. He’s steadily turning beet red. 

You feel your own face heat up at her words, growing worse by the second. 

She puts her hands up defensively. “I had to ask! Just making sure. You’re still our babies, we don’t need any shared grandchildren.”  She’s clearly enjoying how mortified you both are at this conversation. “Yet,” she adds with a mischievous look. 

Jake stands up so suddenly you jolt, falling away from him. 

“I, uh-“ his voice is an octave higher than usual. He clears his throat, “I need to brush my teeth. Excuse me.”

He speeds away to the bathroom, desperate to get away from this conversation. He kept a spare toothbrush at your house, anyway. 

His mom cackles at how flustered he got. “Goodness,” she sighs, leaning back in the recliner, “the way he reacted, you’d think he was raised by a nun.” 

You can’t help but laugh along with her, your momentary embarrassment fading fast. 

“Come,” she says, standing and offering her hand to you. “Let’s eat, Bug. I’m starving.”

You take her hand and walk to the kitchen, where your mom is arranging various breakfast foods on the table. 

“This looks amazing,” you compliment your mom. There’s a spread of pancakes, plates of fruits, and an impressive array of cereals displayed upon your dining room table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight, and you realize the last thing you ate was half a pack of sour gummy worms. Fourteen hours ago. You make an effort to stop yourself from drooling. “I need.”

“There’s eggs on the counter,” your mom offers as she plates the table. “Where’s Jake?”

“Brushing his teeth. Or wishing he was never born. Not sure.” His mom goes and grabs the utensils from the drawer, placing them next to the plates. 

You stifle a laugh and swallow it away. “Do you guys need any help?” 

Your mom nods toward the fridge, “Could you grab the milk and the orange juice?”

“Sure,” you reply, walking over to get the drinks. You set them on the table just as Jake reappears. 

He’s returned to his regular shade, the embarrassment now gone from his face. He does a once over of the table and throws his hand on his stomach. “Oh,” he groans theatrically, closing his eyes in exaggerated agony. “I’m literally gonna die. I’m so hungry.” 

“You say that every hour,” you point out blankly. 

He stops his little bit and narrows his eyes at you. “Yeah? And guess who always responds with, ‘ME TOO’? You do.” 

Your jaw drops at his accusation. “It’s called offering commiseration." 

“It’s called being big,” he corrects you. 

You gasp. “You-”

“Okay, children!” Jake’s mom interjects. “That’s enough going at each other’s throats for one morning. Let’s eat.” 

The two of you have an unspoken agreement to squash the argument, taking your seats begrudgingly. Neither of you are really bothered, you simply enjoy teasing each other. 

You’re seated next to Jake, your moms across from you. As you grab a pancake from the stack, Jake pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms, filling it all the way to the top. 

“If you keep eating like that, you won’t make it past thirty,” you remark snidely. 

He doesn’t even look at you, continuing with pouring milk in the bowl. “Meaning I only have to spend twelve more years with you? God forbid.” He winks. “I’ll stop just for you.” 

In your head, you’re still amazed at how naturally he comes up with these things. “I’d hate for our time to be cut short. I’m not done with you yet, Worm.” 

Instead of fighting back about the nickname like he normally would, all Jake does is smile at you before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. You go on eating your pancakes, carefully watching the moms in your peripheral vision. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see them looking at each other in astonishment. Just as they should. 

After you finish your plate, you clear your throat, looking at both of your moms. “There’s something Jake and I wanted to talk to you guys about,” you announce, setting your fork down. 

Your mom finishes chewing the strawberry she was eating, looking back and forth between you two. “What is it?” she asks, unsure. 

“Is everything okay?” his mom follows up, a mix of skepticism and excitement on her face. 

You look to Jake for support, to which he reaches up and grabs your hand resting atop the table. “It’s nothing like that,” he clarifies. 

“We just, um,” you pause, appearing nervous, keeping your eyes on Jake. 

“Y/N and I…” He looks at you again, gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and looks back to your moms. “We’re dating.” 

Just as you’d suspected, both of your moms look as if they’d just been granted a million dollars each and solved world hunger all in one go. They’re both grinning from ear to ear, and Jake’s mom actually starts to cry a little. 

“Oh,” she sniffles, wiping at her eye with a napkin. “I always hoped you guys would end up together one day.”

Your mom energetically taps her on the shoulder. “Do you remember when we found out we were due around the same time? And we started making up all these scenarios about what our babies would be like together? Oh!” she exclaims toward you and Jake. “This was definitely my favorite one.”

“And here you guys were always fighting it,” his mom teases, wagging her finger at you both. “The two of you were inevitable.” 

“How long have you been dating?” your mom asks, extremely invested. 

“About three weeks,” you answer. Truthfully, it’s only been one week since you’ve embarked on your journey of fake romance, but you figure that duration of time is enough to be considered remotely legitimate. “We wanted to figure things out for ourselves first. But, we wanted to tell you guys, too.”

“We love you both so much,” Jake adds on, “and we knew that you’d be happy for us.” 

His mom guffaws, “Happy is an understatement.” She stands up from her seat and goes around the table, giving you and Jake a hug. “I love this. And you!”

You and Jake both chuckle and look at each other and smile, but it’s not because of what your moms think. You’ve just completed phase three: the reveal. 

That afternoon, after Jake and his mom leave, you go up to your room to decompress and think about the next stages of your plan. You’re laying on your bed, scrolling social media, when you get a message from your mom. 

mom ❤️‍🩹:

Took this while you guys were asleep.

Too cute not to share :) 

[photo] 

It’s a picture of you and Jake, presumably taken this morning. Jake is sprawled on the couch with you curled up against his side, your head on his chest. You’re both asleep, peaceful expressions on your faces. Your arm is slung over his torso, fingers unconsciously gripping at the neckline of his hoodie while his arm wraps around your shoulder protectively. It’s genuinely adorable. 

Your pulse picks up just slightly as you think about how that part wasn’t planned. You weren’t supposed to fall asleep, Jake wasn’t supposed to sleep over, and the two of you weren’t supposed to end up cuddling on your living room couch all through the night. But it just… happened. And you don’t regret it at all. 

you:

Awwwww 

Mom this is so cute 🥹 

mom ❤️‍🩹:

So so happy for the two of you 

Finally!!! 

Your heart stings a little seeing her message. Her genuine excitement. You feel bad for lying straight to her face, for letting her believe that you and Jake were really together. You catch yourself before it consumes you, shaking the feeling away. This was all for the better. You crush their hopes and dreams for good, they stop bothering you about it, and you and Jake get to stay together forever. Platonically. 

You don’t allow yourself to think about it further, instead opting to text Jake. 

you:

omggg bro 

my mom took a pic of us sleeping 

[photo] 

jakey <3:

WHOA WAIT

THATS SO CUTE 

we look like a real couple 🥹 

you 

LMAOAOAOAO 

RIGHT 

jakey <3:

i’m gonna make that my lock screen 💯 

you:

WAIT THATS SMART 

jakey <3:

😼 ik

[screenshot] 

fireeeee 

you:

total accident too

passing out on the couch was not apart of the plan lol

jakey <3:

didnt mind tho

:))))

You don’t know how to respond to that. You react with a heart emoji instead of an answer. You turn your phone off and toss it somewhere on your bed, looking around for something to do to clear your head. That’s when you see it. Your eyes land on the misshapen vase sitting on your dresser, newly filled with the fresh tulips Jake brought over last night. There’s a small white tag you hadn't noticed peeking out amongst the petals. Curious, you pluck it from the bouquet, holding it gently between your fingers. 

You unfold the miniscule piece of paper and read what’s written inside. It’s not a crazy monologue, or an obviously formulated over-the-top love note. All it holds is a simple message. 

to: Y/N

my favorite girl forever.

love, worm :)

And for some reason, it doesn’t feel like it’s a part of your joint scheme. It doesn’t feel like the dramatized and corny one liners Jake’s been spewing out for the past week. It just feels like him. Sweet. Simple. Easy. It possesses the casual, uncomplicated love you’ve shared your entire lives. The unspoken rule that no matter what, you would always have each other to lean on. 

It’s how Jake guarded you and your snail collection on the playground in first grade, shielding the fragile shells from your rowdy classmates, all because you wanted to give them a safe crossing to the bushes. It’s how when you reached your teens and your hormones caused you to find him the most annoying creature on earth, he fought the urge to scream right back at you. Rather, he asked his mom how to get you to stay his friend, focusing on keeping your friendship even though you pushed him away. It’s how he would listen to you rant for hours about whatever was bothering you and being able to read you like an open book. You needed advice? He’d give it. You simply wanted an open ear? He’d sit silent, nodding along with genuine attentiveness. It’s how despite the thousands of petty arguments you two have had, no matter how mad he was at you, he’d still drop everything in a heartbeat for you if you called him. It’s how just last week, he’d agreed in a millisecond to take part in your stratagem of romantic deceit, not an ounce of hesitation in his body.

Eight words, that’s all that he wrote. Because that’s all he needed to say, isn’t it? 

You’ve always known that Jake was a good guy. In fact, he was often deemed one of the best guys. The kind of guy who seemed to live life on easy mode: effortlessly social, naturally athletic, smart without trying to be. What you didn’t realize was how good he was to you, specifically. You know Jake loves you. You know you love Jake. Maybe, though, there’s something else you’re missing. Something that lies underneath, thrumming through your bloodstream.

You don’t text him about the note. You don’t allow yourself to count it as something viable, something real. You do, however, pin it on your bulletin board. That seems like a natural thing a girlfriend would do when receiving a cute note. It now hangs next to a polaroid picture of you and Jake from two summers ago, the last day of break before your junior year of high school. You were hanging out at your close friend Jungwon’s house, one last hurrah before classes started. You smile fondly thinking back on the memory.

It was elementary fun, intense rounds of Twister and heated rivalries in a game of Monopoly that lasted the whole night. You were surrounded by some of the people you love most in this world, but things were still getting loud. You slipped out to the balcony to catch a moment of silence, relishing in the feel of the cool night air on your skin. Jake found you soon after noticing you’d disappeared. He knew you and how you got in situations like this. He wasn’t overly concerned, just checking up on you like he always did. Spotting a camera someone had left outside, he nudged you for a picture. Tired from the socializing, you languidly rested your chin on his shoulder while he grinned for the shot. The flash went off, temporarily blinding you and making you both laugh. Once the photo developed, he gave it an approving look, then slipped it into your back pocket without another word. You sat out there together in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence until Heeseung called you back inside, announcing that a game of Apples to Apples would be starting up soon. Jake took your hand and you walked back in together. That’s just the way things were. That’s how they’ve always been. 

Seeing his note right next to the picture of you two eases something in your soul. It feels right, like that’s where both items belong. Together. 

You don’t really sleep that night, at least not as well as you did the night before. You more so drift in and out of consciousness, staring into the dark of your bedroom and then closing your eyes and seeing you and Jake. The fragmented dreams play in parts, a choppy slideshow of your friendship through the years. 

Three years old, playing in the dirt in your backyard. A few years later, riding scooters down his street as if trying to escape the imminent nighttime. Eleven years old, pummeling each other with snowballs in the winter. Thirteen years old, sitting on your roof while the sun slowly sank down beneath the trees. Seventeen years old, driving around in his car with the windows down, music blasting and wind blowing through your hair. 

You wake up tired, dazed, and groggy. Whatever it is that has ailed you lately, you need to get over it. You’re so close to completing your plan. You roll over with a groan, blindly feeling around for your phone. Checking your notifications, you see new texts from Jake, timestamped 45 minutes ago. 

jakey <3:

good morning mastermind 

so i was thinking 

today i should ask you to be my valentine 

like BIG 

like so obvious ykwim

wait dont reply

its gonna be a surprise 😛

Just then, there’s a clatter against your bedroom window. Maybe it was a stupid bird, you think to yourself. A second later, another clatter. Was that a rock? 

You go over to your window and slide it open, sticking your head out to see what’s going on. 

“Wait, no!” you hear in the distance. You end up narrowly dodging a flying pebble that was headed straight for your face. It lands on your floor with a clunk. 

“I’m so sorry!” Jake shouts from down below. He’s standing on your lawn, right beneath where your bedroom is. In his hands, he’s holding a large heart shaped box, a ladybug Pillow Pet, and another bouquet of flowers, roses this time. Attached to the front of the chocolate box is a paper sign with the words, YOU’RE THE ONLY LADY I WANT TO BUG scrawled across in thick black marker. 

You are genuinely rendered speechless, mouth agape, just staring at him standing there. 

“Can you, uh,” he shouts up again, “can you come down here?” 

You blink, your consciousness kicking back in. “Right,” you shout back. “Yeah, of course.” 

You leave your room and head downstairs, passing by your mom in the kitchen on your way to the front door. She’s sitting at the table, drinking her morning coffee.

“Is Jake out there?” she asks curiously. “I could’ve sworn I heard his voice.” 

“He is,” you confirm, still moving toward the door. “He asked me to come dow-” 

As you swing the door open, there in the doorway stands Jake in all his fabricated romantic glory. He’s there on your doorstep, arms still full of his offerings of love. 

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you echo, taking in all of the details close up now. You hear your mom gasp loudly somewhere behind you, but you don’t turn around. You keep your eyes on Jake. 

“So, I have a question,” he offers. “And I’m really hoping I know the answer already.” He takes a step closer. “Y/N,” he begins, “will you be my valentine?” 

You smile, nodding while you move closer to him. “Yes, Jake,” you say, taking the bouquet of flowers from his hand. “Of course I’ll be your valentine.”

He grins wide, pulling you in for a hug. He smells like roses and fresh laundry and just Jake. You let yourself indulge in the scent before pulling back slightly, your face inches away from his. He’s looking into your eyes, searching for acclamation from you. You nod your head in the slightest, confirming that it’s perfect. Jake then looks over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around, too. 

Your mom is beaming, smiling proudly while holding up her phone, recording the whole thing. “Adorable!” She puts the phone down. “Nicely done, Jake.” 

“Thanks for your help,” he returns sincerely. “I think it went pretty well, all things considered.” He flirtatiously nudges your shoulder, then sends you a wink. 

You turn to your mom. “You helped with this?” You thought that you were supposed to be the one making secret plans, not the other way around. 

“The moms and I conspired last night,” Jake confesses, not looking one bit guilty. “I wanted it to be perfect.” His eyes are bright, refulgent. He looks so happy. 

“It was.” Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, that tiny voice comes alive again. Imagine if it was real, it whispers to you. You tell it to shut up. “Thank you, Jake.” You’re impressed by all the effort he’s put in for a relationship that doesn’t actually exist. “Really. You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“I wanted to,” is all he justifies it by. That’s enough. “Here,” he readjusts his hold on the gifts. “I’ll help you put these up in your room.” 

You walk upstairs together in a charged silence. The moment your door closes, you start talking. 

“Jake. That was adorable.” You’re still amazed at how good it was. “The chocolates? The sign? The ladybug Pillow Pet? Even the roses, just… wow.” 

“Oh, that reminds me.” He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a singular pink tulip, holding it out to you. “Because I know these are your favorites. That matters more.” 

You melt. What the hell. 

You reach out to take the flower by the stem, your fingers brushing against his. “I really don’t know what to say.” You haven’t stopped smiling since you saw him. “This is amazing.” 

“It was pretty easy, believe it or not,” he expounds. “Every year, you buy these chocolates, whether you have a valentine or not. You truly are the only lady I want to bug, that just sums us up. And I remembered you used to have a ladybug Pillow Pet when we were kids.”

You pout at his thoughtfulness. “You remember that?” You hadn’t imagined that was even significant to him. 

“‘Course I do,” he says softly. “How could I ever forget Spotty Scotty?” He laughs, the sound carrying throughout your room. 

“Gosh,” you set the flowers down on your bed and replace their occupancy with the stuffed animal. It’s soft and plush. You run your fingers over the fur, silky to the touch. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Not since-” 

“Since you lost Spotty Scotty on that road trip when you left him at a gas station,” he finishes for you. “You called me crying about it.”

You laugh lightly. “How lame,” you joke. “It was just a dumb stuffed animal.”

“Hey,” Jake interjects, warning in his tone. “No, he wasn’t. He meant a lot to you.” 

Thinking back on all the time you spent moping about after losing Spotty Scotty, the emotions you felt come flooding back. That, mixed with the sincerity behind Jake’s gift, makes your eyes start to burn. 

He sees it immediately, hands coming up to rest on the sides of your arms, thumbs smoothing comfortingly. “You okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you blink away the incoming tears and clutch the Pillow Pet a little tighter in your arms. “This just means a lot.”

He gives you a lopsided smile, like he totally understands. 

“Especially just for a fake Valentine’s proposal,” you add. You don’t mean it as a dig. It’s just the truth.

Jake falters for a fraction of a second. If you blinked, you’d miss it. His smile twitches and his eyes dim slightly, his thumb on your arm slowing down by a small measure. “Right.” His tone is flatter than it was a minute ago. He clears his throat. “So, now that we’re officially valentines, we should get started on how the actual day’s gonna go.” 

“Okay,” you agree, your emotional high steadily dwindling. “I was thinking we go for dinner at The Claw. I made a reservation last week.”

“Whoa, on Valentine’s?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The Claw was one of the most popular restaurants in town, especially for couples and especially on Valentine’s. “Do I have to pay?” He’s half joking. He’s heard from his friends how expensive those entrees are. 

You stare at him, expression blank, for exactly one second, then roll your head about lackadaisically. “I thought about it, but I don’t want to make you-” 

“I was just kidding.” He cuts you off. “I don’t mind paying.” 

“Even though it’s for a date meant to be the downfall of our heavily falsified romantic relationship?” You tilt your head, waiting for him to backpedal. He doesn’t. 

 “Yes,” he maintains his position. “We want our moms to think we’re a bad couple. That doesn’t mean they also have to think I’m a bad guy.” He pauses. “How are we even supposed to get our moms there with us?”

“I have an idea.”

Fast forward to Wednesday, you and Jake are bustling about in his kitchen. Valentines is on Saturday, and you still have yet to confirm that your moms will be there with you at The Claw. Tonight is a regular dinner between your two families, a common occurrence, although the atmosphere has adjusted given that you and Jake are now “dating.” The first twenty minutes of dinner were spent reliving your most embarrassing childhood moments, listening to story after story. You tuned it out, instead focusing on feeding Layla, Jake’s family dog, under the table until you got caught. 

Both sets of parents are at the dining table, laughter over wine echoing through the house. They sent you and Jake to go retrieve the dessert from the fridge, giving you a quick moment to debrief your plan. 

“Got it,” Jake says, holding a plate of cheesecake in his hands as he kicks his fridge shut with the back of his foot. “Could you grab the extra plates?”

You navigate the kitchen seamlessly, knowing it like the back of your hand. You grab the plates from an overhead cabinet and place them on the counter. “I think we should ask them now,” you say under your breath. Your parents are out of earshot, but better safe than sorry. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “But, oh my gosh, I can already hear them making fun of us.” He winces, closing his eyes like he just had a vision of it happening. 

You laugh once. “Why?” 

“Because,” he explains, “it’s our first Valentines and we’re gonna spend it with our moms.” He lets out an airy laugh. “It’s funny.” 

“Hey,” Jake’s mom calls from the other room, “can you grab some fruits from the fridge? The cheesecake needs toppings.”

“Yes, Mom!” Jake calls back. He turns and opens the fridge again, standing there with his back to you while he looks for said fruit. “Who was your last valentine, anyway?” he questions over his shoulder. 

“Hm,” you ponder, leaning your forearms on the counter. “I mean, last year, Jungwon and I were valentines as friends. Does that count?” It wasn’t a big deal, you just bought each other candy and took a couple pictures together. 

“Sure,” Jake offers, still rummaging through the contents of his fridge, though now he’s accumulating a stack of fruit containers balanced on his forearm. “But, like, you guys weren’t really a thing.” He pauses. “Were you?” 

You can’t help but snort at his question. “Me and Jungwon? A thing? That’s a good one.” Sure, Jungwon was one of your closest friends, but your relationship was more akin to two evil homeless cats stalking the streets as opposed to lovers.

“Just asking, you never know what people really feel,” he defends, still turned around. “He used to have a crush on you freshman year, you know.” 

“I did know, actually,” you confess. “Jay told me about it in the science lab one day. He got over it a week later, though.” You laugh at the memory. “You know, I really never expanded my dating pool like I thought I would in high school. Middle school me would be severely disappointed.” 

“At least you’ve got a second, albeit fake boyfriend now,” he jokes. “That’s gotta count for something.” 

“I’ll put you on my extensive list of lovers, for sure,” you quip back. “What about you?” 

Come to think of it, Jake hasn’t had much of a dating life, either. Though definitely not for lack of interest. He was smart, funny, nice, and attractive (though you hate to admit it). Many of your friends have asked for his number, and you’ve given it, trying to play wingwoman. You’d never hear about it after that, though. Nothing ever progressed, it seemed. 

“What do you mean?” he asks further. 

“How come you haven’t had a girlfriend since seventh grade? I mean, it’s not like you haven’t had anyone interested.” You can recall a long list of girls that have fawned over Jake Sim. “I’ve seen the plethora of valentine cards spill out of your locker every year. Hell, I’ve even helped people write some of them.”

He turns around finally, balancing the stack of fruit on his arm. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he admits, like he himself is thinking about it for the first time. “I just wasn’t interested back. Nothing was wrong with any of them, they were really nice, it’s just,” he pauses for a second, thinking through his wording. “I could never see myself with any of them. Does that make sense?” 

You consider it. He’s always been a practical guy, so it makes sense he’d take the same approach to dating. Why waste time if you know there’s no point? “I guess,” you shrug. Then the thought comes to you, just out of plain curiosity. “Who did you see yourself with, then?” There had to have been a slip, a moment of weakness where he liked someone else. At least once.

“You,” he says simply and honestly without missing a beat. Without even looking up at you, he starts rearranging the fruit containers so he can hold them in one hand, the plate of cheesecake in the other. “Don’t forget the plates,” he adds like nothing happened. 

You don’t say anything, just move in a daze until somehow you end up back in your seat at the table. That feeling in your chest is back. Again. You ignore it. Again. 

“So, you two,” your dad addresses you and Jake, “what are your big plans for Valentines?” 

Jake swallows his bite of cheesecake and answers before you can. “We have a reservation at The Claw. Feels so fancy and grown up,” he laughs. 

“Well,” your dad says, “you guys aren’t little kids anymore. You’re eighteen now, heading off to college soon. Crazy to think about.” 

“Oh, don’t bring that up!” your mom scolds him, “I’ll start crying if we talk about it. It seems like just yesterday you were crying because you had diaper rash-“

“Okay, I think we’ve reached the limit on the nostalgia for today,” you interrupt, having had your fill of old stories. “We were supposed to go on a double date with some of our friends, but,” you wince. “Things aren’t going so well between them right now.” 

“Oh, no,” Jake’s mom says. “Always so sad when couples don’t work out. Just hurts everyone involved.” 

You and Jake look at each other, knowing exactly what the other is thinking. 

“Not that that would happen to you two,” his mom adds on quickly. “I think we all know you guys will last.” 

Neither of you can respond to that and keep a clean conscience. 

“Our reservation was for a party of four,” you get back to the topic of the date. “But since our friends canceled, we have no one else to go with.”

“We were wondering,” Jake starts casually, “if any of you wanted to come with us?” 

“Not that we want to ruin your Valentine's plans,” you quickly add on. “We know it’s an important night for you, too.” You bite the inside of your cheek, silently pleading. Please, please take the bait. 

“We would love to!” Jake’s mom accepts. Upon receiving a confused glance from her husband, she clarifies, “Not us,” she gestures between herself and your mom, “us.”

“Ooh, yes!” Your mom agrees, clasping her hands happily. “That sounds wonderful. I love The Claw.” She looks at you and Jake. “Are you sure you’re okay with us coming along? That wouldn’t intrude on your night?” 

“Not in the slightest,” you smile brightly. “We’d love to have you two there. It’ll be fun.” 

“Aww,” Jake’s dad teases. “Even though they’re bigger now, our babies still love their mommas.” 

Jake shoots you a look that says, Called it. He just nods his head. “Yes. And that’s not a crime.” He takes another bite of cheesecake, piling on the blueberries as garnish. “Sorry to steal your Valentines,” he atones to both your dads.

“Against you two, we never stood a chance,” your dad laughs. He has a point. You find it comical how quick your moms were to ditch their husbands for their kids. “But it’s okay. We can reschedule.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake’s dad confers. “All that matters is that the ladies are happy. You’ll grow to learn that, someday.” 

“Yeah,” Jake says absentmindedly, sneaking a glance at you. “I’m sure I will.” 

The rest of the week comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Before you know it, it’s Valentine's eve, and you’re preparing both mentally and physically for the big day. 

Jake comes over in the evening, bearing another set of gifts—this time featuring a small heart-shaped piece of paper. When he hands it to you, you eye it curiously. You’re in your bedroom, your playlist of 90s love songs playing through a speaker providing an appropriate atmosphere for the upcoming holiday. You were in the process of getting everything ready for tomorrow–finalizing an outfit, double checking the reservation, doing some last minute room cleaning so you wouldn’t be grounded–when he knocked lightly on your door before entering. 

“Aww,” you coo, looking at all the detail on it. It’s a handmade valentine, cute and crafty like the ones you make in elementary school. Red construction paper cut into a heart, trimmed with lace around the edges and glitter glue embellishments. The top left corner reads, To: Y/N, From: Jake. It’s adorable and juvenile. “This is so cute!” You look up at Jake and see him eyeing you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, to notice something.

When all you do is furrow your eyebrows slightly, he just lets out a breath and says, “Thanks. I thought you’d like it.” His eyes lose focus for half a second before he blinks. “So, tomorrow. What’s our game plan?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” You set the valentine on the corner of your dresser, right beside his vase full of the flowers he got you. “Our reservation’s at 6:30. You drive over here with your mom, but we take two cars to the restaurant, me and you and our moms.” 

Jake nods thoughtfully, his hand coming up to scratch his chin. “Sounds good. And how’s the sabotage gonna go?” 

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and grab both sides of his face. His skin is warm to the touch. “Jake, I need you to promise me something.”

He looks worried, like you’re about to tell him you murdered someone and need his help to hide the body. Not that he’d hesitate for even a second, if you did. 

“I need you to be the worst fake boyfriend ever tomorrow,” you tell him, your tone and face dead serious. “Whatever you’d want to do, whatever you think is right, you do the opposite. Can you do that?” In the background, Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung fades out, You’re Still the One by Shania Twain playing next.

He matches your expression and nods in earnest. “I solemnly swear, Y/N.” He rests his hands on your wrists, just holding, offering support. “I promise to be the worst fake boyfriend you’ll ever have.” 

You break out into a grin and spontaneously pull him into a hug. The urge just overtakes you. Even though you’ve never been a hugger, the past few weeks with Jake have made you rethink your stance on the matter. You’ve come to enjoy the physical closeness, the warmth, the way you can hear his heart beating steady under his chest. You get why hugs have gotten the reputation of this utmost wonderful expression of affection. It’s one of the most natural proofs of love. With how perfectly he can rest his chin on your head, how snugly you can nuzzle into his neck—it’s like you and Jake were designed to fit together like puzzle pieces. He initially freezes when you wrap your arms around him, still getting used to this version of you, but soon after melts into your embrace. He lays his cheek on your head and the two of you inattentively start swaying in a slow, comfortable rhythm, accompanied by the low noise of the song. 

“Do you think it’s actually gonna work?” Jake asks quietly. You know what he’s referring to. This whole plan, the unnecessarily elaborate scheme to get your mothers to stop bugging the two of you. 

“I don’t really know,” you admit to him. Truthfully, you’re not sure anything could enervate your moms’ certainty that you and Jake are meant for each other. “I hope so.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, but his voice is reserved, distracted. He pauses for a breath. “I’m kinda gonna miss this.” 

You hum in question, arms still wrapped around him. “Miss what?” 

“This,” he says. “Us.” That plain, simple word containing a multitude of meanings, lifetimes spent and countless reinventions of love. 

“There will always be us, Jake,” you tell him, although you understand what he’s getting at. This version of you together. “That won’t change, even after this is over.” 

“I know, I know,” he sighs from somewhere deep in his chest. “It’s just-” He cuts himself off. “Never mind. You’re right.” He holds you a second longer, then embraces you just a little harder before letting go, stepping back from you. “I’ll see you tomorrow. 6:00 PM sharp.” He smiles. With a fake salute and nod of his head, Jake leaves, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. 

read part two here!

taglist: @tinyteezer @betagalactose @simj4k3 @isa942572 @yunkivamp @reinmyheart @kopeg @vissnipherwifeey @littlesweettea-aine @jakesaverse @ikeufied @lotsafim @jaehyp @jvngw0nlvr @klowiishere @tvm-m-blog @zielyous @mhoonstruck @moonstrucksofie @lilscast @fluorjscent @hueningsgirl @fancypeacepersona @wobblymug

[misolhee]

hii could u do jake apologising and making up to you after an argument i love love loveee angst + comfort also i really like ur works! keep up the good work ure doing greattt

📁 2026.works. ╰ 📂 JAKE : ANGST/COMFORT! (post-)argument comfort

—. thank you sm for your request and for your support 😭 i’m glad you like my works that much and i hope i won’t disappointed this heh<3

‘Hey babe.’ Jake said with a soft yet sleepy voice as soon as he spotted you on the couch. You were sitting there, petting Layla as you scrolled on social media, so focused you barely even heard him.

You looked up your phone when noticing him entering in the living-room. ‘Oh hey.’ You simply said before focusing back on your phone.

You were tired these days and the relationship with Jake felt weird which definitely wasn’t helping. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before but it still made you uncomfortable as your heart felt like perhaps something was wrong. Your brain constantly overthought all of this.

Was his silence a confession of his sudden hatred ?

Was he still calling you ‘babe’ to hide the fact he actually didn’t love you anymore ?

You shook your head. Not again, you thought. These thoughts were tiring, and it only made your days worse.

Jake sat on the armchair today. He usually sat right next to you, but not today and the distance separating the two of you felt worse than it actually was.

‘How was your day ?’ You asked with a monotonous voice. You cared, truly, but without knowing the reason why, you couldn’t bring yourself to show it lately.

‘Just work stuff.’ He replied with the same monotonous voice.

‘Okay.’ You just nodded and a heavy silence quickly followed.

Only the sounds of cars passing by your house could be heard from time to time. Otherwise, none of you made a sound and at some point you even wondered whether you had the right to move. You looked around and spotted Jake focused on his phone, smiling at it.

‘What’s making you smile like that ?’ You asked. Curiosity got the best of you indeed and it wasn’t even pure interest. You loved his smile, but right now all you felt was jealousy when you saw him smile at his phone despite not staring at you once today.

Jake shrugged. ‘Nothing. Just Jay inviting me to a party tonight.’ He said. ‘I’m gonna go.’ He added right away. His voice was firm. He clearly had no intention of waiting for your opinion about this. You weren’t a controlling girlfriend usually. You even insisted on him going out with his friends while he usually preferred to stay home with you. But today, you didn’t feel like letting him go as it would only makes you feel lonelier.

‘Do you not care about me ?’ You said. How selfish it sounded, you thought. ‘I mean you’re not even asking me what I’m doing.’ You added, trying to sound less accusing.

He heaved a long sigh and threw his head back. ‘There we go.’ He said with a low voice but you still understood perfectly what he said. ‘Why should it be about you ? Did you plan something ?’

‘I- I mean no I didn’t but-’

‘Then why the fuck am I the villain here ?’ Jake asked, looking straight into your eyes and there wasn’t that soft spark in them. Now he only seemed furious at you more than ever.

‘Are you gonna answer me ?’ He asked. He wasn’t yelling. His voice was actually as calm as usual, but there was this firm tone again that made you feel sad. You had annoyed him with your questions, you thought.

‘He hates you’ Your brain kept repeating over and over again so you yelled as if it’d make it stop, only to realize what you just said.

‘You’re the worse boyfriend ever these days !’

He laughed. A bitter laugh as there was nothing funny in this interaction. ‘The worse ever ?’ He rubbed his face and sighed once more. ‘Then maybe find a better one.’ He only said as he got up from the armchair.

‘I don’t want to stay with you tonight. So I’ll stay over at Jay’s.’

And just like that, he grabbed his jacket and car keys and got out of the house. You didn’t even have the time to process what had just happened that he was already out of sight. A tear fell down your cheek and you quickly wiped it off.

The night passed by, and you found yourself going crazy. You checked all of his social media and scrolled his profiles to see if he had uploaded any photos or videos of that party he told you about. But there was nothing.

At some point you imagined the worse. Were there girls at the party ? If so, would he cheat on you ? Your relationship was in a bad state, and you had just basically told him something awful.

You didn’t mean that, but you still said it. And if the initial goal was to make the overthinking stop right away, it only served to worsen it as soon as Jake left without talking it out.

you. ‘Pls tell me you’re not mad anymore...’

you. ‘I want us to talk.’

you. ‘Jake please come home tonight.’

It was 1 am when you sent him these texts. And it was 1:30 am when he read them.

You checked the clock again tonight : 4am. And still no response. At this point you gave up on having an answer. But your heart kept hoping that maybe he’d come home after reading them to talk directly together so you waited.

Eventually you fell asleep and he still hadn’t come home.

When Jake entered the house, it was 6:30 am. He took off his shoes and sighed already, imagining your angry expression already and preparing himself for a new argument. But all he found was your body laying in a visible uncomfortable position, sleeping.

His gaze softened at the sight of you. You were still dressed up, laying on the couch, your hand gripping your phone that was still on the conversation with him.

He gulped. Guilt painted all over his face, especially when he noticed the slight frown and the tears you were crying during your sleep. You were not peaceful. You were suffering and it was all his fault for running away before.

Jake didn’t like arguing; most likely because he always feared to lose you. But he knew he made the wrong choice when he decided to cut your argument short instead of talking with you to explain himself and to try understanding your own feelings.

‘Y/N…’ He whispered as he got closer. He kneeled beside you and took your phone off your hand, putting it down on the table while trying to turn your body around so that you’d lay in a better position.

‘Jaeyun ?’ Your sleepy voice called out his name and he felt even worse. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his neck. You weren’t fully awake yet and both your brain and heart were a mess. ‘I thought you’d never come back to me.’

Jake frowned and closed his eyes to stop himself from joining you in your tears crisis. ‘I know babe, i’m so sorry.’ He kept on repeating, holding you tightly. ‘I’m here now.’ He reassured you the best way he could.

Jake didn’t smell good and he had obviously drank a lot tonight. ‘Did you drink ?’ You asked and pulled back to look into his eyes as he replied.

‘I did, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you in the middle of the conversation.’

He caressed your hair softly, regretting everything until now. He didn’t like how he was out there, distracting himself while you were fighting to save your relationship after the earlier argument.

‘Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk it out tomorrow.’ He whispered and carried you bridal style towards your shared bedroom. He delicately put your body down, his hand still caressing your hair as he tucked you into bed.

His eyes were softer now, so did his voice and when he smiled at you, you knew it was your boyfriend again; the one you fell in love with.

Jake laid down beside you, wrapping his arms around your body, his hand holding yours as he whispered soft words into your neck, dropping kisses.

‘I love you.’ He kept saying, and as you pressed up against his body, feeling his warmth and love, you knew how genuine he was.

Eventually, you fell back asleep and Jake held you tighter than ever, afraid to lose you.

— gen. taglist : @kristynaaah @devdozes @cupidmiyu @zoros-earring @fabulousarepo4 @lovenha7 @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @ajijakey @seungiesdoll @guliexe @desiree-lee @wonuziex @bunyaya @laikaonline @bffr-riv @fatd2ki @urfavmaknae @miszes @sunooqvrlsx @astronomicalastro-blog1 @versailki @kittyvalr @rxmanceuntxld @boo-shalala @colossj @jaysguitars @kiwicup @wonkisie @ryukumi @nyfwyeonjun

[kazutteoks]

no good ; sjy

s ; your bad (and undeserved) reputation is about to ruin your future. maybe to start improving you should start with your handsome and serious tutor. problem? jake is so mean to you and he only loves to criticize book covers without actually reading the book.

p; meanie nerd!jake x disreputable f!reader

ft; manon bannerman , martin edwards , riki nishimura , jongseong park , sunghoon park , jaehyun myung

c&w; mini smau + written parts , french!reader , drama , angst , crack? , a bit suggestive , jake is veryyy mean to reader , lwk asshole!jake ngl , in fact everybody are mean to reader except her friends , reader is a sweetheart , all characters are 20^ yo , swearing , mention of drinking and smoking , strangers to fwb to strangers again to friends to lovers whole paragraph yeah. faceclaim only for picture purposes (ig; @/arangsaa)

chapter word count: 2.54k !

taglist is open!

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | mtba!

jake gets out of the white cadillac with trembling legs but tries to hide it, although the girl's giggles behind him tell him he wasn't doing it very well.

he thinks no one can blame him, he wasn't used to traveling in sports cars, much less explore all of seoul in less than 30 minutes.

jake doesn't know exactly where they are. he remembers seeing a sign that said "gyoro-ri" but he's not sure either, since the speed they were going made it impossible to read anything. he just can guess they are in a coastal area, since in the distance he can see the crystal clear water reflecting the sunset.

“two hours in that stupid car just to end in the middle of nowhere. where are we?”

“hey! don't insult keanu reeves like that, have some respect.” y/n walks around the car to stand next to him. “we're in a very special place... i just hope you like seafood.” she murmurs before walking towards the small restaurant in front of them.

jake follows her just a few steps behind without thinking. he gets a huge surprise when he enters the restaurant, the place is full of people, waiters move nimbly among the tables, and the homey atmosphere really stops him in his tracks for a second.

it's the voice of one of the waiters animatedly calling y/n that snaps him out of his stupor.

“ehh! it's our city girl, y/nie! did the others come with you?”

“hi ihanie! i'm just in passing, with a new friend.” y/n points behind her, guiding the guy's attention to jake, who awkwardly just raises his hand with a tight smile. “it's been a while since i last came. miss grandpa's cooking a little.”

“mmm! it's a blessing grandpa's cooking is so good that you keep coming back. come this way, i'll give you two a table.”

once seated and after ordering, all they can do is wait for the food to arrive.

faced with the silence that falls after the blond waiter leaves, all jake can do is take a close look around the place. the yellow walls covered in family photos gave a comforting touch, and soft trot music in the background added a bit of rhythm to the voices and laughter around.

“how did you find this place?” jake can't help but ask.

“very comfy, isn't it? owner is the grandpa of one of my friends. we're all foreigners and only return to our country during december break, so martin, who's the only one with family here, always brings us any break we have.” and that's enough for jake to understand why her friendgroup have a picture on one of the shelves. “...they don't know it, but i often come here alone. problems don't reach me here.” that confession, which comes out like a shy murmur, sounds so intimate all jake can do is look at her in silence.

and he isn't entirely sure, but between the background voices and the music, he hears her whispering very softly “he can't reach me here.” but before he can even think about it, the blond waiter arrives at their table with their food.

“careful you two, it's still hot.” y/n applauds with excitement and jake's heart leaps.

“thanks ihanie!” the guy just smiles and ruffles her hair before heading to another table.

“...seems you're appreciated a lot here.” jake points before taking his spoon.

“mmh? well, people here sees me, the real me. not the y/n a gossip page built for funsies.” y/n smiles, looking at her shrimp soup.

her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

“you should already know what kind of person i am, jaeyunie. it's been six months since we met.”

but when jake thinks about it, he realizes he hasn't really taken the time to get to know the girl beyond the little things she's told him... and the things that page posts about her.

he's a little embarrassed to admit it, but his need to keep his connection with her a secret is the main reason why he's closed himself off to considering her a friend.

although, he has to admit in recent months that had changed a little.

just a little.

“...can't say the same about you. if i'm an open book, you seem to be written in a different language to me.” the girl laughs, but even jake can hear the sadness in her voice.

“...there's not much to say about me. i'm a simple person, focused on my major.”

he answers without looking at her, he can't notice the disappointment on the girl's face.

“...sometimes i envy you a little.”

the confession sounds bittersweet in y/n's voice, but when jake looks at her, all he can focus on is her soft smile, which never seems to disappear from her face when she's with him.

“wonder what feels like to not have your name on everyone's mouth all the time, to go unnoticed, to have a quiet life.”

jake fiddles with his soup, lost in thought.

“...it's kind of boring.”

“sounds peaceful.”

“...i'm an only child. my parents are separated and i get along better with my mom. i have a dog named layla and two best friends, one of them has been my best friend since high school.”

jake speaks so fast y/n almost doesn't catch his words.

he still doesn't look up.

“i really never talk about myself because there's really little or nothing to say.”

and when his eyes finally connect with hers, there's something that makes her heart race.

“i never thought you cared that much.”

“...you're my friend, of course i care.”

they spend the rest of the dinner in silence.

ᯓ★

“yikes! i'm soooo fuuull! can't help but eat until i'm stuffed whenever i come here.” y/n's laughter echoes a little on the lonely beach.

jake follows a few steps behind her, admiring how moonlight bathes her silhouette. he thinks she looks completely different here than the girl he's seen in the city.

this version of y/n looks more carefree... more real.

jake likes this version of her.

beach seems to suit her so well he feels it's something much more intimate than all the times he's seen her naked in the last five months.

jake stops abruptly, conflicted by his feelings.

even feels selfish to admit, but he wishes these kinds of things would remain like their little secret, so no one would contaminate the small bond they had formed behind the world's back.

it's something that has been gnawing at his mind for the past few months, and the more time passes, the more it worries him.

has that page, that stalker, really not discovered them at all?

sometimes he thinks and thinks, and the more he thinks, the more terrified he becomes. he feels so calm it's almost uncomfortable, as if at any moment that calm could shatter.

as if someone were just waiting for the perfect moment to ruin not only y/n's life, but his as well.

he can't help it, every time he starts to feel comfort and familiarity in y/n's company beyond the sexual aspect, jake feels the need to distance himself, pretending beyond their study sessions there's nothing else they have in common. as if he were trying to prove something to someone.

as if that were his way of saying 'see? there's nothing here, this isn't important.'

but he doesn't seem to realize in the process of 'protecting' them both, he hurts y/n more, slowly fracturing the trust she has in him and her self-confidence as well.

“...why did you bring me here, y/n?”

the girl also stops as soon as she hears the question, turning around softly. breeze stirs her hair and sends shivers through her body.

“...jaeyun-ah ...will we still be friends when the semester ends?”

question lands like a punch to the gut, but maybe it's just jake's guilty mind, because he looks at y/n's face and all he sees is the genuine curiosity to know his answer.

“...of course we will. i... really like our friendship the way it is right now.”

and there it is, that honesty combined with the very clear rule that leaves no room for negotiation.

the clear 'we're friends but nobody should know'. something that frustrates the girl so much, but she doesn't know how to express it without also having to explain the whole situation with her ex, the stupid gossip account and the deal she has with jaehyun about their secret friendship.

y/n feels idiotic and selfish when her chest tightens with pain upon hearing the boy's response, because she knows the secret she's hiding from him is even worse than keeping their friendship and bond a secret.

so she just takes a deep breath and accepts his answer with her heart.

“...i'm not as strong as you think, you know?” it's the first thing that comes out of her mouth.

jake doesn't look away, completely mesmerized by how moonlight gave the girl's face a special glow.

“i get overwhelmed easily and make reckless decisions all the time. i disabled comments section on all my social media because at some point became impossible to cope. i'm used to things not going well for me, so i never keep my expectations high. i'm too pessimistic, i pretend everything's fine and nothing matters to me, but sometimes... sometimes i just want to stay in bed, away from expectations, from opinions...” her voice cracks slightly, and jake can only feel a strange weight in his chest at that “...far from all the weight i carry in my hands every day.”

and perhaps it's at that moment the way jake sees her changes completely, breaking down his prejudices and doubts about her with the raw sincerity in her eyes.

those eyes that never leave him, not at that moment and certainly not since the day they met.

“sometimes... sometimes i just want to be alone, but i can't stand loneliness either. does that make sense?” y/n laughs but to jake's ears sounds more like a sob. “...i lied to you about my number on the form. i actually avoided putting it because the last time my number fell into the wrong hands it ended up posted on that damn page.... i had to change it because i saw no end to the negative messages i was receiving daily..”

jake imagines the situation and makes him nauseous just thinking about it.

how can someone not let you breathe for even a second?

“reason i sleep so much in class is because my mind is so noisy at night, i can't sleep when i'm alone. i'm actually quite smart, you noticed, right? but exhaustion in the last year has been so damn bad i just can't keep up with my classes.”

“last fashion runaway exhibition, where everyone swore i cheated to beat giselle? wasn't even put to student vote, everyone who said they voted for her and not for me lied. the judges were the professors from the fashion building. uni's page even released a statement clarifying it, and giselle also tried to clarify the situation, asking people to stop lying and stop talking badly about me... but nobody listened, because what hnu gossip said sounded spicier than the truth.”

“yes, when i started selling clothes i sold second hand clothes, but was shit i redesigned to give it my style. yes, i raised the price a little, but i was just a first year student trying to survive without any financial support in a country that wasn't my home.”

“i hate the way even my friends' reputations ended up damaged. they say it doesn't matter but it does to me, because i know it's my fault. because i... b-because i... i'm not brave enough to stop the person behind the account.”

the girl lowers her gaze to her feet sunk in the soft sand, completely embarrassed.

“truth is i'm a weak person, i'm ashamed of myself all the time.”

but all jake sees is a broken girl carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, completely alone, taking responsibility for something that isn't her fault.

how much have you had to endure on your own?

“and you've become so important and indispensable in my life, i could no longer allow myself to continue hiding this shameful part of myself from you.... you don't deserve... you don't deserve to be lied like this. not from me.” a heavy sigh escaped her lungs, as if her chest were finally releasing a great pressure having just confessed everything. it felt really good for a second “well... if you still want to be my friend after this.”

jake clenches his fists at his sides, nervous, even dazed. his head feels as if it's being freed from a heavy fog after hearing the truth behind all the stories distorted by the page. he feels grateful to be able to know the most intimate secrets hidden in the girl's heart.

“...you're really stupid if you think i'm going to judge you.” finally, his voice emerges from his throat, surprisingly stable despite the chills the wind sends him “i had a thousand and one opportunities to walk away from you, and yet i stayed. whenever you call, i'm right there, i answer your calls and messages without fail. and you still doubt your importance in my life?”

jake slowly moves closer to the girl with each word, her teary eyes reveal a weakness he never thought he would see in her.

in a very selfish and possessive way, jake is grateful to be the one with whom y/n can show that side of herself.

“can't walk away from you, even if i try... you'd have to be the one to walk away first because i never will.”

standing just inches away, jake stops.

the other's body heat gives them a comfort they've already become accustomed to.

and when they both look directly into each other's eyes, they know there are still many things left unsaid, but also, for now this was more than enough.

'this is just the beginning.'

y/n throws herself at jake in a desperate embrace, and he receives her almost by muscle memory in his arms, already used to the girl's displays of affection.

“thank you jaeyunie.”

“...you know, you can call me jake.”

“...jake?”

“yeah, that's... that's what my close friends call me.”

“...jake...it's pretty cool.”

“...yeah, it is.”

looking out at the vast sea and the moon above them, jake regrets not being a little braver, to tell y/n without worry that none of that mattered to him, that their friendship was valuable to him, and that other people's opinions had stopped mattering to him months ago.

he wished he could've told her at that moment he no longer cared about the superficiality in which others lived, that he would always be on her side and support her. that even if the person behind the page were to post about both of them right now, he would get over it easily.

maybe if he had said it, nothing that happened afterward would've blown up in his face the way it did.

a/n: i js know this is yall's heart rate w the way jake moves in this smau 📈📉📈📉📈📉 LMAOOOO

and now js prepare yourselves cz i'm abt to make a big mess mwehehehe. as i said, it'll get better, but before that it'll get even worse >.< but u can be happy! finally you'll have yearner!jake^^

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned. © kazutteoks 2026

ᯓ★ ! taglist (1/2) ;

@areikii , @kyrafpl , @webz , @only4momoring , @gyeomibearr , @lilllslayswanderwoodsan , @miyeonprincessu , @zoe1love , @zqxej , @seyoungiesleeps , @yuristhend , @cokewithcameron , @rikimbap , @iiunique , @desistay , @mwaeom , @meikstv , @ori2ari , @xerophyides , @arelyvn , @nightcat101 , @aeraluvs , @dvett , @human1errorth1ngs , @kookieterry , @bamgyooooo , @h7llow , @softblaqn , @marigold55 , @ominoustattoospy , @lingxio , @lolallure , @xllance , @carmenikeuublog , @sooberriesx , @simjyyyn , @simjaeyunslut , @bensabrifirildak , @jazzygirlengene , @letwiiparkjay , @runicyetielement , @tojiworshipper , @whoisovee , @gaylawrd , @amipng , @hoe4hollis , @outsiddaline , @moarmy7 , @ddcyvn , @cosm1cgarbag3

[jinjjaitsrough]

the great valentine's heist - s.jy (teaser)

𑣲 childhoodbsf! 심재윤 x f!reader

synopsis:  Jake Sim has been your best friend your entire life–even longer if you count the months spent in your mothers’ wombs. Your moms (also best friends) have been hoping, praying, and not-so-discreetly begging for you and Jake to be a couple for as long as you can remember. After eighteen years of dealing with it, you’ve had enough. You pitch your solution to Jake: pretend you finally are a couple, only to prove the point of how you’re better off as friends. But as the line between what’s real and what’s fake blurs, you start to wonder… are you really?

content: friends to lovers, romcom, fluff, angst if you squint (half of it’s fake), idiots in love, fake dating, layla cameo! rain soaked jake scene, high school au, jake and reader are both seniors in hs and 18, nostalgia, kys jokes, accidental cuddling, flowers, they don’t know how to be bad for one another lmao, mild language, reader is an overthinker, cheek kisses, real kisses, attempts at humor </3, some text messages, nicknames, they’re kind of really dumb and oblivious i’m sorry, avoidant attachment anxiety (oops), denial of feelings, but they get their crap together in the end i promise!! petty arguments, banter, falling asleep together, and other stuff i probably forgot to mention 

word count:   teaser: 1.5k  full fic: est ~30k (read here!)

now playing: ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞 ruin the friendship by taylor swift, illusion by one direction, valentine by laufey, you’re still the one by shania twain, pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine, anyone by justin bieber, change my mind by one direction, i was made for loving you ft ed sheeran by tori kelly, mary’s song (oh my my my) by taylor swift, catching feelings by justin bieber, night changes by one direction

A/N: soooo this was supposed to be released on valentine's day but clearly that did not happen!! it's finally almost done and i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :) comment for tags!

“I don’t know why she doesn’t just break up with him already,” you say, venting your frustration. Your close friend Quinn and her boyfriend got into another fight, therefore meaning you got to deal with another week listening to how horrible he is.

“Love’s tough, man,” Jake says solemnly, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

The two of you are posted up in his childhood bedroom, the same one where you once ran into the dresser and broke your wrist. You had been playing a very intense game of “rocket tag” (as dubbed by your six year old selves) and barrelled into his dresser in the dark. You felt that deafening crack of bone and immediately started crying. Jake came into the room a second later, first declaring victory as he laughed and tagged you on the shoulder, then kneeled down to ask you if you were okay, reassuring you that everything would be fine. That pretty much sums up the nature of your relationship.

You and Jake have been best friends since birth. Literally. You both had no say in the matter. Your moms have been best friends since high school, remaining just as close despite the odds in college and beyond. As years passed, weddings were thrown, and families expanded, your moms were over the moon to find out that their respective babies would be born exactly a month apart. Jake came first, kicking and screaming his way into the world with a fiery nature only he possessed. A month later you joined him, just as loud but with your own special attitude about you. 

Your first play date was when you were a week old. Jake’s mom brought him over to your house to meet you for the first time, she and your mom both ooh-ing and ah-ing as the two of you did nothing but wriggle next to each other on the floor of the playpen. They snapped a picture which is still framed today in both of your living rooms.

Since then, you’ve never known life without Jake. He’s always just been a known presence, like how there were always stars in the sky and always laundry to be done. There was always Jake. 

You’re currently lying on his bed, on your back with your legs propped up against the wall, your toes pointing toward the ceiling. He’s sitting in the rolling chair by his desk, one leg tucked underneath him, the other swaying the chair back and forth in a comfortable rhythm.

“Like you know anything about love,” you snort, breaking into a laugh. “Your one and only love was your girlfriend of one week in seventh grade.”

Jake looks up from his phone and frowns, his fist flying to his chest as if you stabbed him. “Don’t talk about Naomi like that. My heart never healed from when she dumped me in the hallway after geography.” He winces, then smiles and rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve done any better.”

You scoff indignantly. “Excuse you. I had a beautiful, heated, loving relationship with Nick for one whole month in sophomore year.” 

“Right,” he drawls, “how could I forget? He cornered me after school and threatened me because he saw me get in the car with you when your mom picked you up. Asked me if I was trying to ‘swoop in on his chick.’” 

You purse your lips and sigh dramatically, “Man, he was the one.” 

“Whatever happened to Naomi and Nick anyway?” He asks, still not looking up from his phone. It’s now turned sideways, so you know he just started a game of FIFA. 

“I genuinely believe they’re dating now,” you say seriously. “I saw someone post something a while ago.”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he looks up at you. “Seriously? Huh. Good for them.” 

“Randomest couple ever,” you comment. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Hm,” Jake ponders, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Honestly, I think they’re a good match. She was always asking me to, like… ‘protect her’ or something. Like I could do much with the wide array of seventh grade muscles in my arsenal. Nick’s the guy for her.”

You guffaw, sounding like a chicken, sending Jake into his own fit of laughter. While you’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, his bedroom door opens and his mom pokes her head in. 

“Hey, kiddos,” she says with a warm smile on her face. “Just came to see if you guys wanted any snacks.” She looks from your comfortable lounging to the happy expressions on your faces. “You guys are just too cute,” she remarks, shaking her head. “Laughing like an old married couple.”

“Mooooom,” Jake groans, throwing his head back. “Don’t be weird.” 

You laugh again. “Thanks, Mrs. Sim. Don’t old married couples fight, though? Must be a sign we’re not meant to be.” You shrug defeatedly. Jake cackles. 

“Oh,” she tuts, pouting. “You guys just need to stop being so opposed to it and give in. It’s bound to happen someday.” 

Both you and Jake grimace at the same time at the suggestion of you two as a couple. 

“I’m good, actually,” you decline with a pained face. 

“No, thank you.” Jake actually fake gags. 

Your smile drops. “Okay, dude, I’m not that unappealing. Tone it down.” 

He nods in apology. “My bad, gang.” He turns back to his mom. “I think we’re good, Mom.” He smiles sweetly. “Thanks.” 

“Just call if you need anything,” she says before leaving the room. 

“Thank you!” You call out after her as you can hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. “Your mom is the best,” you sigh. “I would marry you just so I could have her as my mother-in-law.” 

Jake just blinks at you. “Your love for me is so pure.” 

“Seriously, though,” you say, staring at the ceiling fan turn slowly. “Don’t you find it so funny how they’ve pushed for us to be a thing, since, like, literal birth? When are they gonna call it quits?”

“Have you met either of our mothers?” He questions like you’ve been replaced by a robot. “Never, that’s when.” 

“I don’t get why we’d ever risk ruining our friendship, you know?” You expand, still watching the propellers spin. “Like, imagine if we dated and were just the worst couple ever.”

Jake scoffs and leans back in his chair. “That’s probably what it would take for them to finally drop this whole thing.” 

A light bulb goes off in your brain. 

You sit up so fast you’re light headed, your blood flow not evening out yet. 

“That’s it!” You exclaim excitedly, a manic grin on your face. 

His brows furrow. “What’s it?” 

“That’s how we get them to stop,” you explain, planning it all out in your head. “We pretend that we’re finally a couple, but then we act so incompatible and just awful together that they’ll see we’re better off as friends.” 

His eyes flicker, a spark of intrigue burning behind them. “And we make them think that we are just so terrible together, even go through a nasty breakup right in front of them.” He’s now wearing an evil grin matching yours. 

“Exactly!” You fight back a scream. “Make it so bad that they never even bring up the topic of us dating again. Like they think we’re so traumatized but we’re still friends.” 

“Ooh-hoo,” Jake whistles out, low. “I love your twisted brain. When should we do it, though?” 

“Valentines.” You snap your finger when the thought comes to you, your brain now working overtime. “Think about it. The holiday of love?” 

His smile grows even wider, if possible. “We act like we have some big plans for the day, then royally screw them up.” He’s getting that crazy look in his eye that you know all too well. “It all goes down in flames.” 

You nod in enthusiastic agreement, “It’s perfect.” You can’t help but rub your hands together maniacally. “So how should we start?” 

“Well, Valentines is in what, like two weeks, right?” Jake asks. “I say we start dropping hints about it now, so that by the time the big day rolls around, we’ve got all this build up that we could crush.” 

You simply hum, nodding your head but zoning out. You’re scheming in that twisted brain of yours, as Jake called it. This will take strategic planning and diligent execution. It couldn’t just be a one and done type deal, you needed credibility. It had to be believable. 

“I’m gonna start saying like, ‘Oh my goodness, Mom, Jake looked so handsome today,’” you announce. Consider this the first phase of the plan. 

Jake snickers. “Are you serious?” He asks, fighting back another laugh. “Is that gonna work?” 

You groan and stare at him with tired eyes. “You have no idea how much my mom will freak out when she hears those words come out of my mouth. I kid you not, every time we come back from seeing you, she says something like, ‘Don’t you think Jake looked nice today?’ or ‘You two looked so good together, you’d make such an attractive couple.’” 

“Holy crap,” he mumbles, dragging his hands over his face, grinning like a little kid. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

[heemunch]

one more chance ☆ ──꒰ ✉️ ꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚ s.jy

jake x f!reader . . !

SUMMARY 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 being in an on and off relationship with jake has caused you two to be tired of the push and pull. avoidant, anxious, that was all bullshit. would having another break for a month change the course between you guys? WC ˚ 3.4k ⋆｡˚ ⋆

˚𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ ⋆ WARNINGS very suggestive (sex mentioned but not written), playboy!jake, avoidant!jake, mention of being high, mention of heeseung, sunoo, sunghoon, angst, arguing, no communication, breaking up, on and off relationship, character development, soft!jake at end :p

YOU’RE IN JAKE'S apartment while he’s pacing back and forth in the living room. The room is barely lit with candles and the rain is coming down in sheets, pounding against the thin glass windows as if it were trying to break in.

Or maybe, it was trying to drown out the screaming between you two. “You know what, you’re fucking impossible!” Jake yelled, pointing at you. It was a sound you’d never heard before. Not like this. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles pure white.

You laughed, it was a bitter and sharp sensation to Jake’s ears. “Yeah? You’re a coward, Jake.” You crossed your arms, leaning against the side of the sofa watching him frantically pace across the room. “You can’t be serious right now!”

Something in his face twitched. Jake stopped pacing, but his back was turned to you. This was all new to you. He had never yelled. He never lost his control in front of you.

“You want to know why we keep doing this?” Jake took a step closer to you, his voice dropping between you both. “Because you like it. You like seeing me at the edge of breaking. Until I—”

You looked up at him, “Until you what, Jake?” You dared him. “Say it.”

The air between you two felt uncomfortable. He grabbed his keys off the counter instead, “We’re done. Final. Get home safe.” The door slammed so hard behind him that it couldn’t be drowned out by the rain around you.

And just like that—for the third consecutive time in eighteen months, you guys were over. Again.

You and Jake have been in an on-and-off relationship for quite a while now. Although it was great between the two of you, your relationship was basically the written definition of “toxicity.” For a year and a half, you have kept this act up.

You’re anxious attachment and he’s avoidant attachment. When you push, he pulls. When you talk, he runs. It was tiring, yet you still loved him. In this cycle, it was all just fight, breakup, miss each other, collide again, and repeat. The highs are so high, and the lows wreck you so hard.

You still remember the first time Jake made you feel everything between you two was real. That night at Sunoo’s party when he abandoned his friends just to keep listening to your stupid story about how lonely you’ve felt for a while. The way his thumb traced circles on your wrist while you talked—like you were something precious. That was exactly the high that pulled you into him.

Well, Jake was a black hole. Pulled in everything around him, ruined all of its potential, and that was the low that wrecked you so much.

So, here’s the cruel joke about anxious and avoidant attachments together. The very things that drew you two together soon became the blades that cut you apart.

While your anxiety begged for reassurance, you’d press. “Do you even care about me?” His flight always turned on, avoidance recoiling from pressure and he’d shut down. “I can’t do this right now.”

The more you sought connection, the more he retreated. With every “we need to talk” sent him spiraled down a hole and fled from you. Every silent treatment left you crying, gasping for air in your bedroom.

The breakups always followed the same brutal rhythm as well. Always the explosion where you craved for a single drop of reassurance, the freeze where he never wanted to fight for anything, and the aftermath where he left you crying and he always left you alone.

Yet like addicts, you both kept coming back. Because when did he ever let you in? Was it when you caught him watching you sleep on his lap with something tender in his eyes? Those moments made you believe the agony was almost worth it.

And you couldn’t forget the cruelest part—the most painful. The sex. It was when Jake was the most vulnerable. Where you felt like you had him, right there, in your hands. Both your bodies are communicating what words failed to. His hands are on your hips as an apology. Your nails down his back as a plea.

Eighteen months of this push-and-pull, this relentless dance where neither of you ever truly let go. Three breakups, countless “I can’t do this again,” and when you receive a message in the middle of the night, your heart still hopes it’s him.

Now, this was the longest silence he’s ever left you in. The first week, you’d slept with your phone clutched in your hand, certain he’s come crawling back like always—drunk and sorry on your doorstep, his apologies whispered against your skin.

The second week, you kept checking your phone obsessively, waiting for the inevitable “Hey.” It was the worst—the hours you spent refreshing your texts, hoping for a glimpse of his name on the screen, the hope fading into bitter disappointment every time it wasn’t there.

Your friends, especially Heeseung, tried to keep you distracted of course, with movie nights and impromptu road trips—just about anything to keep your mind off the silence that buzzed in your ears like a constant headache.

Sometimes, it even worked. You’d laugh with them, watching shitty filmed horror movies at 3am, and share a bottle of alcohol on the beach. For a few moments, you’d almost forget as well.

The third week, you dreamed of him-his hands, his voice, the way he used to say your name like it meant something. Vivid, aching dreams where you’d wake up with his name written on your lips, your sheets tangled around you like his arms used to be.

Dreams where he’d whisper “I’m sorry” against your skin, only for you to open your eyes to an empty bed. You’d always reach for your phone instinctively, half expecting to see a text: “You okay?” like he somehow knew.

But the screen stayed dark and the silence stretched on.

By the fourth week, you stopped dreaming altogether. You couldn’t remember though. Your memory seemed to slip in between the slight cracks of your fingers.

It was an oddly empty blur and your head just felt full of cotton, your mind a jumble of half-remembered moments: a cup of stale coffee by your bed, a pile of unwashed laundry, the empty feeling that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

You barely even noticed when your friends asked for him—you just shook your head and shrugged, saying some throwaway phrase like, “I’m fine.”

By the fifth, you stopped looking for him in crowded rooms. Your friends have had it with you. “You’re actually considering texting him again?” Heeseung slams his wine glass down so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

You pick at the label of your soju bottle, avoiding their stares. The booth at your usual dive bar suddenly feels like a courtroom.

Sunghoon leans in, voice dropping to that I-love-you-but tone. “Babe. Third time. Third.” He nudges your shoulder, “That’s not a pattern anymore—that’s a fucking habit.”

You open your mouth to defend Jake—‘he’s not that bad, you don’t understand how it is between us’—but then Sunoo, who’s been silently scrolling through his phone, turns the screen toward you.

It's your own text from the last breakup: “I’m done for real this time. He’s never changing.” It was dated seven months ago.

The table goes quiet. Heeseung’s voice softens in a way that hurts worse than yelling. “Look. We just.. we don’t want to watch you keep hurting yourself.” They’re all staring at you now, and you swallow hard. They’re right. You know they're right.

But when your phone lights up with a notification,

JAKE IS TYPING . . .

Your heart leaps anyway. Fuck.

Now, six weeks in, you don’t tell your friends when you get a random text on a Thursday. You didn’t have a reason to. Why would a random number text you at seven in the evening? It couldn’t be a drunk text. Not a booty call either.

Just a simple text:

Dinner. Tomorrow at 8PM. Wear the blue dress.

So, you stare at your screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard trying to gather your thoughts before you impulsively type a response, because you were done with him—if it was even Jake who was texting.

Who is this?

They texted back almost instantly.

You know who.

Say no and I’ll show up at your house in the middle of the night instead.

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. So, tomorrow evening, he’s early.

Jake—who has never been on time for anything in his life—is leaning against his truck, hands shoved in his pockets, looking unfairly good in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

“You’re late,” he says when you walk out with the blue dress he got you that hugged your curves way too perfectly.

You glare at him, “It’s two minutes past. Don’t whine.”

“Exactly.” He opens the passenger door for you. “I’ve been waiting.” That’s new.

The restaurant is tiny, dimly lit, the kind of place with candles on the tables and a playlist of soft jazz in the background. “So, since when do you make reservations?” you ask Jake as the hostess leads you to a corner booth.

When Jake’s fingers brush the small of your back and he says, “Since I decided to do this right,” your heart does something stupid you haven’t felt in a couple of months.

He orders for you—your favorite dish, the one you mentioned once six months ago. Jake does that thing where he listens..actually listens as you rant about your coworker’s stupid spreadsheet habit. He doesn’t check his phone, and he doesn't shut down when you ask about his week. He even steals a bite of your food off your fork like it’s something he’s allowed to do, as if you haven’t spent months screaming at each other.

The candlelight flickers between you, casting shadows across Jake’s face as he leans forward, elbows on the table. “You’re staring,” he says, swirling his wine glass.

“I’m waiting for the punchline,” You narrow your eyes. “Where’s the part where you remember you’re you and bolt before dessert?”

Jake doesn’t laugh, just reaches across the table and his fingers slightly brush yours. “Maybe I’m tired of running.”

The words sit between you, heavy and raw. The waiter interrupts with dessert—chocolate torte, your favorite, not his—and Jake doesn’t even pretend to want a bite. He just watched you eat it with that unreadable expression, the one that used to drive you crazy.

Now it just makes your chest ache. “So, why now?” you finally ask, licking chocolate off your fork. “Why this?”

He exhales, rough and responds quickly like he’s already rehearsed every answer. “Because I had six weeks to think.” A silent pause with just the clatter of utensils behind it. “And I hated every second of it.”

The drive home is quiet and when he pulls up to your house, he doesn’t kill the engine. Jake just turns to you, his voice low. “Tell me this is a bad idea.”

With the amount of self-respect you’ve tried to gather to say no, you couldn’t do it. So instead, you lean over the console and kiss him—soft and slow, nothing like the desperate clashes you were used to.

When you pull away, his grip tightens on your thigh. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow then,” Jake smiles. “Noon.”

“No dress code this time?” You tilt your head, and his heart skips a beat at the sight of it.

“Wear a pretty dress. A casual one.”

It’s almost noon and you’ve spent two hours getting ready. It’s ridiculous, actually. It was just a date with Jake, the same guy who had seen you at rock bottom, drunk on the bathroom floor, out of your mind high. You could show up in your sweatpants with a giant zit on your chin and he'd still call you attractive.

Yet, for some reason, you still change your outfit three times, blow-dry your hair, and spend an embarrassing amount of time on your makeup. You check your phone for the fourth time in five minutes.

No new texts, and you scoff at the sight. Jake is a lot of things, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he were late.

Your heart jumps when Jake’s truck pulls into the driveway. You walk out of your house and he opens the passenger door for you, that stupid crooked smile lights up on his face. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Save the charm for someone who cares.” You slide into the passenger seat, pretending like the endearment didn’t make your heart stutter.

He laughs. Of course. “We both know you care.”

The truck hums beneath you as Jake drives—one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on your thigh like it belongs there. “So, you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re the one who’s been staring at me like I’m about to kidnap you.” His thumb rubs small circles against your leg. “I’m not that predictable, trust me.”

So you do. The city blurs past, sunlight flickering through the trees as you head toward the outskirts of town. The sun filters through the windshield and it paints Jake’s profile in gold—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar above his eyebrow from that time he swore he “tripped.”

“You’re taking me to the lake?” You realize suddenly, and Jake just laughs, not denying it.

“Took you long enough.”

It was your place. The spot you told him about once, when you two were just friends and you were drunk, too sentimental, and way too stupid to believe he’d remember.

The truck rolls to a stop at the edge of the water, the late afternoon sun painting everything in a pretty color. A picnic blanket is already spread out near the water’s edge, weighed down at the corners by a bottle of soju and a picnic basket.

“You planned this?” You gasp, opening your door to jump out of the truck.

“Told you I wasn’t predictable,” Jake says as the lake comes into view—a glittering expanse of blue, its surface rippling under the breeze. “Shocking right?”

Jake’s grin was all teeth with his boyish charm, tugging you towards shore and the cloth laid out on the ground. “Come on. There are sandwiches from the deli that you like. Extra pickles, no onions. Just how you—”

“—just how I like them.” You finish softly. The air smells like fresh water and sun-warmed grass. Somewhere nearby, a dragonfly skims the surface of the lake, its wings catching the light.

Jake sits down and pats the space beside him. “You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna let me impress you?”

You roll your eyes, but sit anyway. The blanket is soft, warm from the sun, and Jake’s arm brushes yours. You try not to think about how much you’ve missed the real moments between you two. “Impress me, huh?”

He grins, unwrapping a sandwich and handing it to you. “Give me a chance, and you never know what might happen.”

”Jake,” you say firmly, and he looks up at you. “What’s your motive behind all of this? Why the sudden change after almost a year and a half we’ve spent trying to keep things between us serious?”

Jake pauses mid-bite, his sandwich hovering in the air. The lake laps gently against the shore, the sound filling the silence between you. His expression shifts—something unguarded, almost vulnerable—before he sets the food down carefully.

”Because I finally got it,” he says, voice low. “That night we— I ended things six weeks ago. You know, I drove for hours. Ended up at some shitty motel outside town, and I just.. I sat there. I sat in my silence, thinking about how every time we get, I run. Every time things get hard, I disappear. And one day, I realized you weren’t gonna be there when I came back.”

He picks at the edge of the blanket, avoiding your eyes, “So yeah. I’m changing. Just because I’m tired of losing you. I think I’ve drained everything out of us, this relationship. I’m done with the push and pull.”

The honesty hits you like a punch to the chest. You don’t know what to say. Jake, the most blunt person you’ve ever known? You’ve never heard him talk like this before. You were used to the easy insults, the angry fights, the cruel words in anger. Not this.. this brutal truth.

Jake continues, “You’re all I think about. God— two months ago I would never admit this, but it’s true. You don’t need this. I came to the conclusion that you don’t need… me. That you deserve better, and it’s selfish of me to even think that.”

You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. “So what? You had a revelation and now you’re just.. better?”

He laughs, a sharp bitter sound. “No. God, no. I’m not better. And I’m probably still gonna be shitty to you, fight, be a jerk, and do every goddamn thing you can’t stand.. But I swear I will try this time.”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers digging into the blanket fabric. “Not better. Just.. awake.” His eyes flick up to yours, dark and painfully earnest. “That motel room smelled like cigarettes and mildew. I sat on that scratchy-ass bed during a weekend just replaying every fucking time I ever let you down.”

A fish jumps in the lake behind you, the splash too loud in the heavy silence. “I realized something,” he continues, voice rough. “All those times I walked out? I always knew you’d still be there when I came back. But that last fight..” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t chase me. You didn’t call. And for the first time in a year and a half, I felt what it would actually be like to lose you.”

The sandwich sits forgotten between you two, mayo just glistening in the sunlight. “So no, I’m not fixed, but I am trying. Because the alternative..” His hand finds yours, calloused fingers tentative. “The alternative is living without you, and I can’t do that.”

The confession hangs between you, raw and trembling. Your heart is in your throat. Never, in any of the fights and breakups and makeups of the past year, has Jake ever spoken like this.

The Jake in front of you now is a stranger to you. A version of him you haven’t seen in months. He’s still rough around the edges, all sharp words and quick sarcasm, except his walls are down. He’s laid himself completely bare, and something in your chest twists.

The words are on the tips of your tongue. A thousand things you want to tell him, but you swallow them all. He’s right about one thing—the cycle needs to end. You take a deep breath, his hand still clutching yours.

”I need some time,” you finally say. “Jake, I need to be able to trust you. I need you to prove you won’t disappear again, because I realized something too within those six weeks.”

His hand tightens in yours, his fingers rough against your skin. There’s something desperate in his eyes, like he’s bracing for an impact. “What did you realize?” he asks, voice tight.

You exhale slowly, watching the way sunlight flickers across the surface of the lake. It almost feels surreal, sitting here on an old blanket with the man who’s both crushed and saved you more times than you can count.

The wind picks up, sending ripples across the lake’s surface as you gather your thoughts. “I realized I was tired too,” you admit, plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. “Tired of pretending I didn’t care when you left. Just acting like I didn’t count the days.. weeks ‘til you came back.”

Jake’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly. You meet his gaze squarely. “But mostly? I realized I deserved someone who stays. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Let me be that person. Let me try, again, and again, however many tries.” It’s not a promise. Not some grand romantic declaration. Just five simple words that somehow feel heavier than anything either of you has said before.

The sandwich wrapper crinkles between you as she leans forward, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Give me one more chance to get it right.”

You exhale slowly, torn between your heart and your head. “Jake, one more chance.” His eyes darken, relief and something that looks suspiciously close to hope flickering across his face.

”I’m never leaving again.”

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