#sim jayeun

[jakeyswifeblog]

margin of error💋

smut: margin of error - after hours (mdni.)

pairing: jake sim x fem!reader

summary: two top university debaters have been competing for first place since freshman year. you work hard for every point to keep your scholarship, while jake seems to win effortlessly. when you’re forced to lead an important research project together, your rivalry gets more complicated — and working side by side might be harder than losing to each other.

wc: 60k (damn— i'm sorry)

genre: heavy angst, fluff, a bit of smut, very suggestive dialogue | college!au, very slowburn, rivals to lovers, drunk confessions

tags: m/f, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn that actually burns, rich boy trauma (surprise!), forced proximity, competitive sexual tension, “i hate you” but make it yearning, mutual obsession disguised as rivalry, she works twice as hard - he makes it look easy, high-stakes academia, scholarship stress, power struggle romance, “you don’t trust me” core, denial x denial, emotionally constipated idiots in love, golden boy complex, rich boy with abandonment issues, identity split (jake vs jaeyun), fratboy persona as coping mechanism, performance vs authenticity, ego built on insecurity, secretly sensitive jake, lowkey needy jake, praise-starved jake, soft dom energy but emotionally fragile, overachiever reader, perfectionism as a coping mechanism, drunk honesty, jake cries while drunk, jealousy but subtle, everyone sees it but them, chaotic friend group, niki cockblocking, intellectual intimacy, slow emotional unraveling, reluctant trust, vulnerability arc, emotional hurt/comfort, earned happy ending, emotional payoff, “we’re better together”, control issues translate to the bedroom, kiss while raining, dorm hook up, very consensual, dry humping, fingering (f rec), praise, suggested brattaming, almost-sex

this fic will also include mentions of the le sserafim and other enhypen members

a/n: hi <3 yes i disappeared for two months. life was stressful, my brain was fried, and i didn’t get to any requests — i’m sorry about that. i needed a second to breathe. but!!! i wrote this instead. you all know i don’t play about college jake. something about golden boys under too much pressure and a fratboy mask just does something to me 🫠 and honestly, i think this might be my favorite thing i’ve written. it really feels complete to me right now. also i really wanted to explore expectations, scholarship stress, golden boy syndrome, and what it feels like to perform a version of yourself that everyone loves. so yes. yes, i gave him abandonment issues. yes, i made him cry while drunk. yes, the academic power dynamics mirror in the bedroom. and no i will not apologize 🫡 also this is a really slow burn. like. really slow burn. tension-first, feelings-first, ego-vs-vulnerability slow burn. this was originally intended to have full smut, but the slow burn said no. there still is a smut scene — it’s just a little different from my usual “we’re going to hell” level of smut, but it fit the pacing better this way. it’s still heated. it’s just very them. SOOO if you like insecure men who pretend they’re fine or praise-starved golden boys with soft dom energy — welcome💔

you’re halfway through your rebuttal when jake interrupts. of course he does. sim jaeyun - jake, to everyone who isn’t close enough to him - has an instinct for timing that makes him unbearable. he never cuts you off early enough to look rude. he waits until the exact second your argument sounds airtight, then slips in with a “correction” like he’s doing you a favor. he’s been doing it since freshman year, since the first debate qualifier where he showed up late, apologized in that faint australian accent of his, and then proceeded to dismantle three seniors like it was casual exercise. “your economic model assumes stability“ he says now, voice smooth, measured. “which would be impressive if we were discussing a world that actually functions that way.” there’s a soft ripple of laughter from the audience. you don’t look at him. “the model assumes reasonable policy intervention. if you’d listened instead of preparing your one-liners, you’d know that.” - “oh, i listened“ he replies lightly. “i just disagree.” jake doesn’t raise his voice. he doesn’t need to. he stands with that easy posture, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie slightly loosened like this is beneath him but still worth winning. jake is confident. jake is effortless. jake is the version professors love. “you’re oversimplifying“ you continue, flipping a page without rushing. “short-term volatility doesn’t invalidate long-term structural reform.” - “and blind faith in structure doesn’t prevent collapse“ he counters immediately. “history’s pretty clear on that.” you finally glance at him. he’s already looking at you. there’s something infuriating about the way he debates - not aggressive, not even arrogant exactly, just assured. like he trusts his brain enough not to panic. you don’t have that luxury. you prepare. you outline. you rehearse transitions until they’re automatic. jake improvises. the moderator signals for final statements. you straighten your notes, pulse steady, and deliver your closing with controlled precision. every statistic placed intentionally, every sentence built to corner his argument. when you finish, you hear a few murmurs of approval. good. jake doesn’t check his notes before he begins. he just steps forward, hands loosely clasped, and talks. “my opponent builds beautiful frameworks“ he says calmly, nodding toward you. “they’re detailed, organized, almost airtight. the problem is they assume people act rationally. they assume institutions behave ethically. and if the last decade has taught us anything, it’s that they don’t.” he doesn’t rush. he doesn’t stumble. he adjusts mid-sentence like he’s rearranging thoughts in real time. “and when systems fail“ he finishes, glancing at you again, “flexibility matters more than control.” there’s a beat of silence before applause. you hate that it’s good. the judges deliberate longer than usual. when they return, the head judge smiles politely. “by a margin of three points… jake.” three points. that’s nothing. that’s everything. he leans slightly toward you as the applause starts. “you almost had me.” you gather your papers without looking up. “almost is still losing.” he laughs under his breath. “you’re terrifying when you’re competitive.” “i’m always competitive.”-“yeah“ he says. “i know.”

backstage is crowded, loud, chaotic. someone bumps your shoulder. you barely notice because jake is suddenly right in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact. “you relied too much on theory“ you say quietly. “you relied too much on control.” - “you improvise when you’re cornered.” - “you overprepare because you’re scared.” your jaw tightens. “scared of what?” he studies you for half a second too long. “being wrong.” - “and you’re not?” - “i am“ he says easily. “i just don’t mind it.” that’s a lie. you don’t call him on it. someone from the team claps him on the back. “jaeyun, you’re insane.” he winces slightly. “it’s jake.” they blink. “right. sorry.” he waves it off like he doesn’t care, but you notice the tension in his jaw before he smooths it away. “you’d think after two years they’d learn it“ you mutter and he looks back at you. “did you just defend me?” - “i hate incompetence.” that makes him grin. “sure.” you check your phone out of habit and freeze. there’s an email from the department chair flagged urgent. jake’s phone buzzes at the same time. he glances down, then back up at you, expression shifting from amused to intrigued. “you got that too?”- “apparently.” he steps closer so you can both read from one screen without fully admitting that’s what you’re doing. your shoulders almost touch. you’re aware of it. you ignore it. “top two ranked debaters selected to co-lead the undergraduate policy research initiative“ he reads aloud. “public presentation at the end of the semester. faculty oversight minimal.” you exhale slowly. “you’re kidding.” he looks delighted. “we’re partners.” - “i don’t want to be your partner.”-“and yet“ he says lightly, “fate persists.” you step back first. “this isn’t debate. this is research.” -“i’m aware.”-“you don’t outline.”-“i can outline.”-“you don’t.” - he folds his arms. “you don’t adapt.”- “i adapt.”- “reluctantly.” you stare at each other for a long second. the hallway noise fades into background static. he’s close enough that you can see the faint scar near his eyebrow from some story he once told about rugby at his private school in brisbane. you remember more about him than you’d like. “you’re not taking this seriously“ you say. “i am“ he replies, and for once the teasing edge drops slightly. you answer, “it’s a big opportunity.”- “for you, maybe.” he says. his eyes sharpen. “for you too.” you hesitate. he notices. “you think i don’t know?” he says quietly. “you don’t compete for fun.” you don’t like how observant he is. “i compete to win“ you reply.“same.” -“no“ you say. “you compete because you enjoy it.”-“and you compete because?” you don’t answer. he watches you for a moment longer, then straightens. “we have the briefing tomorrow at ten.” -“you read the whole email?” -“obviously.” you hate that he did. “don’t be late“ you say. he smirks. “i’m never late.” you shake your head. “you’re impossible.” - “and yet“ he says again, softer this time, “we work well together.” you don’t respond because that’s the worst part. when you were forced onto the same side last semester, your arguments flowed. you anticipated each other. you hate how natural it felt. he steps around you to leave, then pauses. “you know“ he adds casually, “if we’re co-leading this, you’ll have to stop looking at me like i’m the enemy.” you meet his gaze evenly. “you are.” he smiles slowly. “that’s the problem.” he walks away before you can decide what that means. you stand there a second longer than necessary, staring at the email again. public presentation. faculty evaluation. visibility. it’s the kind of thing that goes on transcripts. the kind that matters. of course it’s him. sim jaeyun - jake - the boy who makes everything look easy. the boy who improvises brilliance. the boy who interrupts you exactly when it hurts most. and now you’re supposed to build something with him. you don’t know which is worse - losing to him, or having to work beside him. your phone buzzes again.

unknown number.

jake: don’t overthink it. we’ll survive.

you stare at the message. you type back before you can stop yourself.

you: speak for yourself.

three dots appear immediately.

jake: oh, i plan to.

you’ve known jake since freshman year, which means you’ve known him since before he figured out how to win without looking like he was trying. the first week of college, you were already in the library at midnight outlining your coursework when he walked in wearing a hoodie from some brisbane private school, dropped his backpack on the table across from you, and asked if anyone was using the seat next to you. you’d looked up, irritated, because you don’t study socially. he’d smiled like he knew that. “relax“ he’d said back then, noticing your expression. “i’m not here to copy.” you hadn’t replied. you just went back to highlighting. the first ranking list came out six weeks into your first semester. it wasn’t supposed to matter that much, but for you it did. your scholarship isn’t automatic - it’s conditional. top three in the cohort, minimum. fall below that and the funding gets “re-evaluated.” that’s the polite wording they use. re-evaluated means meetings. meetings mean explanations. explanations mean risk. and by midterms, he was ranked first in your cohort. you were second. the worst part wasn’t that he beat you. it was that you never saw him studying. you saw him at campus parties, leaning against kitchen counters with a drink in his hand. you saw pictures of him at football games, at some rooftop event, at someone’s birthday dinner. you saw him laughing. and then you’d see the grades posted. first. jake. - second. you. now, two years later, you’re sitting across from him in a glass-walled study room, the email about the research initiative open between you. he’s scrolling through the proposal guidelines while you already have a notepad out. “we should decide on a topic tonight“ you say, tapping your pen once against the paper. “if we’re presenting at the end of the semester, we need a clear framework.” jake leans back in his chair, arms folded. “it’s been twelve minutes.” - “and?” -“and you’re already planning the presentation.” he adds. “that’s how planning works.” you say. he studies you for a second, then says, “you know we don’t have to treat this like war.” -“it is war“ you reply evenly. “public evaluation. faculty panel. rankings.” he tilts his head slightly. “you really care about rankings.” -“you don’t?” you question. -“i care about doing it well.” -“that’s vague.” he smiles faintly. “you care about beating me.” you don’t deny it. “you make it necessary.”he laughs quietly and leans forward now, elbows on the table. “necessary?” -“you’ve been ahead of me since freshman year.” -“by decimal points.”-“it still counts.” he watches you closely, like he’s deciding whether to push further. “you think i don’t notice you chasing me?” -“i’m not chasing you.” -“sure.”  you close your notebook with more force than needed “you don’t even try.” that lands. his expression shifts just slightly. “you think i don’t try?” -“i see you at parties“ you say. “i see you out. i see you doing literally everything except studying.” -“and you assume that’s all i do.”-“isn’t it?” there’s a pause. not dramatic. just longer than comfortable. “i’m efficient“ he says finally. “that’s not an answer.”-“it’s the only one you’re getting.” you hold his gaze. there’s something in his tone that doesn’t match the casual posture. it’s faint, but it’s there. defensive.

you change direction. “we need a policy topic that allows for divided interpretation. something with room for debate.”-“energy reform“ he suggests immediately. -“that’s too predictable.”-“predictable wins.”-“not if it’s boring.”he raises an eyebrow. “you’re worried about boring now?”-“i’m worried about standing out.” he looks amused. “you always stand out.”you ignore that. “housing policy?” -“overdone.”-“immigration?” he hesitates, then nods slightly. “that could work.” you start outlining possible angles. he watches you write for a moment before saying, “you don’t have to prove yourself every five seconds.”-“i’m not,“ you stop writing. “and you don’t get to say that jake”-“why not?” -“because you don’t know what it’s like.” his jaw tightens just slightly. “you think i’ve never had to prove anything?”-“you don’t act like it.”-“and you think acting relaxed means i am?” you open your mouth, then close it again. that’s not how this conversation was supposed to go. jake leans back again, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t see everything.” -“then show me“ you say before you can stop yourself. he studies you, something unreadable flickering across his face. “careful“ he says lightly, but there’s no real humor behind it this time. “you might not like what you see.” your phone buzzes. you glance down. a reminder about tuition deadlines. you lock the screen quickly, but not before he notices. “scholarship stuff?” he asks. -“that’s none of your business, jayeun”-“fair.” you gather your papers “we’ll meet tomorrow at ten. don’t be late.” he smirks slightly. “i’m never late.” - “you were late the first day of freshman orientation“ you remind him. he shakes his head. “i wasn’t late. i walked in after they started talking. that’s different.” -“you missed roll call.” -“i made an entrance“ he says, and this time there’s a flash of that easy grin again. as you head toward the door, he calls after you, “and don’t call me jaeyun in front of people.” you pause. “you don’t like it?” -“it’s not for here“ he says simply. you nod once- whatever that‘s supposed to mean? “fine. jake.” he relaxes slightly at that, like you passed some small test you didn’t know you were taking. as you leave the study room, you tell yourself the irritation in your chest is purely academic. purely competitive. purely about rankings and decimal points and research proposals. it totally has nothing to do with the fact that when he said you always stand out, he meant it.

the next day you’re sitting in chaewon’s apartment with a half-melted iced latte in your hand and five pairs of eyes staring at you like you’ve just announced you’re transferring schools. “you’re co-leading it?” yunjin repeats, leaning forward across the coffee table. “with jake?” - “yes“ you say flatly. “unfortunately.” sakura lets out a low whistle. “that’s either iconic or catastrophic.” -“it’s catastrophic“ you reply immediately. kazuha tilts her head. “it could be iconic.” -“it won’t be.”

eunchae, who’s curled up on the floor next to the couch, glances up from her phone. “isn’t this kind of what you wanted? a big research opportunity?” -“yes“ you say. “not with him.” chaewon crosses her arms. “okay, but explain it again. slowly. why do you hate him?” - “i don’t hate him“ you correct. “you absolutely hate him“ yunjin says. you press your lips together. “he’s just… exhausting.” -“how?” sakura asks. “he’s polite. he holds doors. he apologizes when he bumps into people.” -“that’s performance“ you argue. -“for what audience?” kazuha asks calmly. “for everyone“ you reply. eunchae snorts softly. “that’s dramatic.” -“you didn’t see him yesterday“ you say, sitting up straighter. “he interrupted my rebuttal again. of course he did. perfect timing. perfect tone. he wins by three points and acts like it’s casual.” -“that’s because it is casual for him“ yunjin says. chaewon studies you carefully. “you’re not mad that he wins.” -“yes, i am.”-“no“ she says. “you’re mad that he makes it look easy.” you glare at her. she smiles slightly. sakura stretches her legs out on the couch. “okay but let’s be honest. you two have been number one and two since freshman year. this was inevitable.” -“it didn’t have to be with him“ you insist. “it literally did,“ eunchae says. “the email said top two.” you drop back against the couch cushions. “he doesn’t take anything seriously.” -“have you considered,“ kazuha says mildly, “that maybe you don’t see everything?” you narrow your eyes at her. “you sound like him.” yunjin laughs, “oh my god, you do. that’s exactly what he says.”-  “that’s because it’s true“ kazuha replies. you shake your head. “you all see him at parties. that’s it. he’s always out. always somewhere. meanwhile i’m in the library rewriting notes for the fourth time.” sakura raises an eyebrow. “you rewrite your notes four times?” -“that’s not the point.” you argue. chaewon leans forward. “you’re acting like he personally attacked your gpa.” -“he kind of does“ you mutter. eunchae finally sits up properly. “sunghoon says jake barely sleeps during midterms.” you pause “what?” she shrugs. “he mentioned it once. said jake disappears for like three days and no one hears from him.” -“that’s not true“ you say automatically. “it is,“ eunchae insists. “sunghoon was complaining because they had plans and jake canceled.” you hesitate. that doesn’t match the image you’ve built. yunjin notices the shift immediately. “see? you don’t know everything.”

before you can respond, there’s a knock on the door and chaewon calls out, “it’s open!” sunoo walks in first, smiling brightly, followed by jungwon and niki. jungwon drops down next to eunchae without hesitation, greeting her quietly, while niki flops into an empty chair. sunoo looks around at the tension in the room. “why does it feel like someone died?” -“niki’s best friend“ yunjin says sweetly. niki gasps dramatically. “jake?” - “yes“ you say dryly. “spiritually.” sunoo laughs. “what did he do now?” -“he exists“ you reply. sunoo walks over and sits on the armrest of the couch near you. “okay, no, seriously. what happened?” -“he and i got paired for the research initiative“ you say. sunoo’s eyes light up. “oh. that’s perfect.”-“it’s not perfect.” -“it is,“ he insists. “you two are literally the same person.” -“we are not.” -“you’re both competitive. you both overthink. you both pretend you don’t care when you absolutely do.”-“i do not pretend” . jungwon looks between you and sunoo. “why do you guys act like enemies? it’s confusing.”-“because we are“ you say. sunoo tilts his head. “but why?“ you open your mouth, then hesitate. the answer sounds less convincing when you try to say it out loud. “he makes everything look easy.” -“and that’s a crime?” niki asks.  “yes. it is.” everyone laughs except you. sunoo leans closer. “be honest. do you actually hate him?”-“i don’t hate him.” -“do you dislike him?”-“yes.”-“why?”-“because he interrupts me.” sunoo blinks. “that’s it?”-“and he wins.”-“by decimal points“ jungwon adds quietly. you glare at him. he raises his hands defensively. sunoo studies you for a long moment before saying, completely serious, “you guys should just fuck.” the room goes silent. “what?” you say. “i’m serious“ sunoo continues. “the tension is insane. it’s exhausting. just fuck once and get it over with.” yunjin bursts out laughing. “i was waiting for someone to say it.” -“i was not“ you snap. chaewon looks amused. “he’s not wrong.” -“he is very wrong.” you insist. sunoo shrugs. “you glare at each other like divorced parents.”-“that’s dramatic.”- “you stand too close“ sakura adds helpfully.-“i do not.”- “you do“ eunchae says. “at debates especially.” -“that’s proximity strategy.” you say. sunoo grins. “sure.” you feel your face heating slightly, which only makes it worse. “there is no tension.” -“there is so much tension“ niki says. “enough that niki and heeseung bet on who will snap first“ jungwon adds casually. you stare at them. “you’re betting on us?” - “not seriously“ niki says quickly. “it’s just… for fun.” you look at sunoo. “you’re encouraging this?” - “i just think“ sunoo says thoughtfully, “that you’re both stubborn and bored. and when stubborn people are bored, they create drama.” - “we are not bored“ you say. -“okay“ he replies lightly. “then why does it bother you that he parties?”-you freeze for half a second. “it doesn’t bother me.” -“it does“ chaewon says gently. sunoo nods. “you think he’s not working as hard as you.” -“he isn’t“ you insist. “you don’t know that“ jungwon says. -“i do.”- “do you?” sunoo asks softly.

the room feels quieter now. yunjin breaks the silence. “okay, but regardless, you two leading the research project together is objectively entertaining.” -“i don’t want entertaining“ you say. “i want stable.”-“you’re in college“ niki says. “nothing is stable.” sunoo leans back, crossing his arms. “when’s your first official meeting?” -“tomorrow morning.” he grins slowly. “can’t wait.”-“you’re not invited.”-“i don’t need to be“ he replies. “i’ll hear about it anyway.” eunchae glances at jungwon. “please don’t make this a group event.”- “no promises“ jungwon says lightly. you stand up abruptly. “you’re all impossible.”-“and yet“ sunoo says, smiling at you, “you keep hanging out with us.” you hesitate at that. because despite everything, despite the rivalry and the rankings and the decimal points, this - sitting in a messy apartment arguing about nothing - feels easier than the quiet intensity of that glass study room. “just don’t let it ruin you“ chaewon says gently as you grab your bag. “it won’t“ you reply. sunoo tilts his head again. “you sure?” he studies you one last time before saying, “for what it’s worth, he doesn’t hate you.” you pause “i didn’t ask.”-“i know“ sunoo says. you leave before anyone can say anything else, your mind louder than it was when you arrived.

you’re walking across campus with yunjin when your phone buzzes with a message from jake.

jake: study room b. don’t be late.

you glance at the screen and scoff. “he really thinks he’s in charge.”yunjin looks over at you as you both step around a group of freshmen blocking the sidewalk. “who?” - “jake“ you reply, slipping your phone back into your bag. “he booked the room and now he’s acting like i work for him.” yunjin hums thoughtfully. “maybe he just doesn’t trust you to show up.” you give her a look. “i’m always on time.”-“that’s true“ she admits with a grin. “you’re aggressively punctual.” you cross your arms as you walk. “he texted ‘don’t be late.’ like i’ve ever been late to anything.” yunjin laughs softly. “he likes getting under your skin.”-“he’s not under my skin.” -“sure.” you stop outside the academic building and glance at the time. you’re five minutes early  “go“ yunjin says, nudging you lightly. “i have class in ten. try not to murder him.”-“no promises“ you reply. she grins and heads down the hallway toward her lecture room while you take the stairs up to the study rooms. as you approach study room b, you can already hear laughter inside. you frown. you push the door open and freeze for half a second. jake is sitting on the table instead of in a chair, sleeves pushed up, laptop open in front of him. niki is sprawled in one of the chairs, leaning back dangerously far, feet propped against the table leg. niki is mid-sentence when he notices you. “oh, look“ he says, straightening slightly. “she’s here.” jake glances toward the door and smiles faintly. “you’re early.” -“i’m on time“ you correct as you step inside. “you’re early.” niki looks between the two of you with open amusement. “wow. already fighting. we’re thirty seconds in.” - “we’re not fighting“ you say. jake tilts his head and says “you sound defensive.” -“i’m not defensive.” -“you somehow always are“ niki says cheerfully. you set your bag down on the table and look at niki. “why are you here?” - “i’m supervising“ niki replies, completely serious. “supervising what?” you ask. “whatever this is.” he gestures loosely between you and jake. jake lets out a quiet laugh and closes his laptop halfway. “ignore him.” -“i am not ignoring him“ you say, pulling out your notebook.

“this is supposed to be a work session.” -“it is“ jake replies calmly. “we were just… warming up.”- “by laughing?” - “yes“ niki says. “it’s something people do.” you shoot him a look. “do you not have somewhere to be?” niki pretends to check an imaginary watch. “actually, i cleared my schedule for this.” jake shakes his head slightly. “you don’t have a class?” -“i do“ niki admits. “in twenty minutes.” -“then why are you here?” you ask again. niki leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “because i heart you two got paired, and i wanted to see the tension in real time.” - “there is no tension“ you say immediately. jake raises an eyebrow at you. “you just said that very quickly.” -“that’s because it’s true.” . niki grins. “you two look like you’re about to argue over who gets the better chair.” jake slides off the table and gestures toward the chair across from him. “take it. i don’t want it.” you narrow your eyes slightly. “i wasn’t asking.” -“see?” niki says, pointing between you. “that.”. jake glances at niki with mild amusement. “you’re exaggerating.” -“no, i’m not“ niki insists. “he’s been pretending he doesn’t care all morning.” you turn your attention to jake. “you don’t care?” jake leans back against the table, crossing his arms loosely. “about what?” -“about this project.” he looks at you steadily. “i care.”-“it doesn’t look like it“ you reply. niki makes a dramatic gasp. “oh, she went there.” jake’s jaw tightens slightly, though his tone stays even. “we’ve been here ten minutes.” -“and you were joking around“ you say. -“with my friend“ he replies. “before you got here.” you hold his gaze for a second too long. “we agreed to take this seriously.” -“i am taking it seriously“ jake says. “relax.” you hate that word. “i am relaxed“ you say, sitting down across from him and opening your notebook. niki watches the exchange like it’s live entertainment. “you know“ he says thoughtfully, “if you guys just admitted you get turned on by arguing with each other, this would be easier.” jake rolls his eyes slightly. “you’re projecting.” - “i told you i’m supervising“ niki corrects. you ignore him and flip to your outlined topic ideas. “we’re doing immigration policy“ you say, glancing at jake. “unless you’ve changed your mind overnight.” -“i haven’t“ jake replies. “economic integration versus resource strain.”-“good“ you say. “i drafted a preliminary framework.” jake pushes off the table and takes the seat across from you. he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “let’s see it.” you slide your notebook toward him. he scans it quickly, eyes moving fast. niki shifts in his chair and watches jake’s expression carefully. jake nods once. “this is solid.”-“that’s it?” you ask. “what do you want, applause?” he replies lightly. -“i want critique.” -he studies the page again. “you’re focusing heavily on structural reform. we should balance it with adaptive local policies.” -“that weakens the central thesis“ you argue. “no“ jake says calmly. “it strengthens it by showing flexibility.” niki glances between you. “wow. this is intense.” you both ignore him. jake taps one of your bullet points. “if we frame it as binary, the panel will push back.” -“they always push back“ you reply. “exactly.” he says. you hesitate. he’s not wrong. niki leans back again. “you two talk like you’re negotiating a peace treaty.”-“we’re building an argument“ you say.

“it sounds like marriage counseling“ niki says. jake huffs out a small laugh despite himself. “can you leave?”-“in a minute“ niki replies cheerfully. you pull your notebook back slightly and look at jake. “if we incorporate adaptive policies, we need stronger case studies.” -“i can handle that“ jake says. you raise an eyebrow. “can you?” he meets your gaze evenly. “yes.” niki watches that exchange carefully, then smirks. “you don’t trust him.” - “i trust data“ you reply. jake tilts his head. “you just don’t trust me.”-“that’s different.”-“how?”-“because you improvise.”-“and you don’t“ he says. “that’s why this works.”-you frown slightly. “works?”-“we balance each other“ he says simply. the air shifts just slightly at that. niki notices immediately. “oh my god“ he mutters under his breath. you ignore him again. “we need to divide tasks.” jake nods. “i’ll handle case studies and adaptive frameworks. you refine the structural argument and gather economic data.”-“that’s reasonable“ you admit.niki claps softly. “look at that. cooperation.”jake throws him a look. “you’re insufferable.”-“i learned from the best“ niki replies, grinning.you close your notebook. “if you’re done supervising, you can go.” niki checks his phone and stands up dramatically. “fine. my class is starting. but before i leave-” he points between you and jake. “try not to kill each other.”-“we won’t“ jake says dryly. niki pauses at the door and looks back at you. “you know he doesn’t actually think this is easy, right?”jake immediately says, “niki.”-“i’m just saying“ niki continues, ignoring him. “she assumes things.” you cross your arms. “i don’t assume.” -“you do“ niki says lightly. “both of you do.” jake stands up slightly. “go to class.” niki laughs and opens the door. “have fun, kids.” he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. silence settles into the room.

you exhale slowly. “he’s dramatic.” jake sits back down and opens his laptop again. “he’s bored.” -“you find that funny?” -“i do“ he admits. you narrow your eyes. “of course you do.”he glances at you. “you don’t?”-“no.”-“that’s unfortunate.” you shake your head and look down at your notes again, trying to refocus. the room feels different now that niki is gone. quieter. smaller. jake clears his throat softly. “you really think i don’t work.” it’s not phrased like a joke this time.you don’t look up immediately. “i think you don’t look like you’re working.”-“that’s basically the same thing.”-you finally meet his eyes. “then what is it?”he holds your gaze for a moment before answering. “it’s just not as visible.”-“that’s vague“ you say. “i know“ he replies. you study him carefully. he doesn’t look defensive now. just tired. “why do you care what i think?” you ask quietly. he leans back slightly, considering that. “because you’re the only one who competes with me like it matters.” -“it does matter.” -“i know“ he says. the way he says it makes something tighten in your chest. you break eye contact first and flip to a new page in your notebook. “let’s just work.” he nods once. “okay.” for the next several minutes, you fall into a rhythm. you outline. he types. you debate phrasing. he adjusts it. the arguments sharpen.

the tension doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape-less sharp, more focused. for a while, the only sounds in the study room are the quiet tapping of jake’s keyboard and the soft scratch of your pen moving across paper. the earlier teasing from niki feels distant now. the air has shifted into something focused, almost tense in a different way. jake suddenly stops typing. you look up immediately. “why did you stop?” you ask, your pen hovering above the page. jake doesn’t answer right away. he narrows his eyes slightly at his screen and scrolls upward. “hold on“ he mutters, leaning closer to his laptop. you straighten in your chair. “what?” jake tilts the screen slightly toward you. “did you download this dataset directly from the initiative portal?” he asks, tapping the trackpad. “yes“ you reply, leaning forward to see better. “it’s the one linked in the official brief.” jake scrolls again, slower this time. “look at the resource strain percentages from 2018 to 2020“ he says, his voice losing its casual edge. you move your chair closer and scan the column. “they increase gradually“ you say. “that’s consistent.” -“too consistent“ jake replies, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the screen. “real-world immigration strain doesn’t trend that cleanly. especially not across multiple regions.” you frown. “it could be averaged.” -“it is averaged“ jake says, pointing at the methodology note. “that’s the issue.” you pull your own laptop toward you and open the public government archive you bookmarked yesterday. “give me a second“ you say as you start searching for the original data. jake watches silently while you compare the figures side by side. your stomach drops. “these don’t even match“ you say quietly, your eyes flicking between the two screens. jake nods once. “i noticed.”

you scroll faster, your jaw tightening. “the university dataset rounds up in some regions“ you say slowly. “and rounds down in others.” jake leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “it balances out to reinforce a specific trend.” you shake your head. “no. it can’t be intentional.” jake studies your expression. “you see it too.” you don’t respond. instead, you double-check the years again, hoping you misread something. the numbers remain the same. jake exhales slowly. “if we use their version, our argument is skewed“ he says, his tone controlled but firm. “it’s the official dataset“ you reply, closing your laptop halfway. “it’s the provided dataset“ jake corrects. you stand up from your chair and take a few steps toward the glass wall, trying to think.

“you’re suggesting the university manipulated research data for a student initiative?“ you say carefully. -“i’m saying the dataset was curated“ jake replies as he stands as well, resting his hands on the table. “and not transparently.” you turn back to face him. “that’s a serious claim.” -“it’s an observable discrepancy“ he counters. you cross your arms. “if we accuse them of manipulating data, we jeopardize the entire project.” jake steps slightly closer to the table. “if we ignore it, we jeopardize our credibility.”-“that’s dramatic“ you say. -“it’s accurate“ jake replies, his voice sharpening slightly. you shake your head. “you don’t know why it was adjusted.”-“and neither do you“ he responds evenly. “but you’re assuming bad intent“ you argue. “and you’re assuming good intent“ he fires back. you take a breath, trying to steady yourself. “we don’t need to escalate this. we can adjust our framework so we rely less heavily on those specific figures.” jake studies you for a moment before asking, “so you want to work around it?”-“i want to be strategic“ you say. jake lets out a short breath through his nose. “strategic“ he repeats, though there’s frustration underneath the word. “yes“ you insist. “there’s no reason to challenge faculty-provided material unless absolutely necessary.” jake steps fully away from the table now, running a hand through his hair as he processes that. “you care more about how this looks than whether it’s accurate“ he says quietly. “that’s not fair“ you reply immediately, your voice tightening. jake looks directly at you. “it is fair. you’re calculating risk before you’re evaluating integrity.” -“i’m evaluating consequences“ you correct. “you’re protecting your ranking“ he says. you feel your pulse spike. “this affects ranking“ you reply. “public evaluation affects scholarship.” jake’s expression shifts slightly. “so this is about being first again.” -“it’s about staying funded“ you snap. “you know that.” jake hesitates for half a second before saying, “you think i don’t have stakes here?”

“you’ll be fine either way“ you reply, your voice sharper than you intend. “you always are.” jake’s jaw tightens. “you really think that.” - “you make it look easy“ you say. “you always have.” he takes a step closer, though not aggressively. “looking easy doesn’t mean it is“ he says, his tone lower now. “then why not prove that?” you challenge. jake stares at you for a moment before answering. “because i don’t owe you a performance of my struggle.” the words hit harder than you expect. you fold your arms tighter. “if we call out the discrepancy, it draws attention. attention means scrutiny.” -“and scrutiny isn’t bad if we’re right“ jake replies.“it is if we’re dismissed“ you argue. “we’re undergraduates.”- “so what?” he asks. “if we find inconsistencies, we address them.” -“not by accusing them outright“ you insist.jake shakes his head. “you’re compromising.”-“i’m adapting“ you reply. “you’re compromising“ he repeats, firmer now. “and you’re idealizing“ you shoot back. jake looks away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “if this were reversed“ he says carefully, “and i brought you flawed data and told you to ignore it, you’d destroy me.”-“that’s different“ you reply immediately. “how?” he presses. “because you’re my partner“ you say, then realize how that sounds. jake notices. his expression flickers. “and the university isn’t?” he asks quietly. “that’s not what i meant“ you say quickly. jake studies you, something unreadable in his eyes. “you trust them more than you trust me“ he says. “that’s not true“ you respond, though your voice lacks certainty. jake exhales sharply. “you think i can afford to challenge this because i went to private school?“ he says. “you think i’ve had it easy.” -“you have connections“ you reply. “you have options.” -“and you think that equals safety?” he asks, his voice tightening. “you do have a safety net jake.“ you insist. jake goes very still at that. “you don’t know anything about my safety net“ he says, his tone controlled but strained. “then explain it“ you reply. for a moment, it looks like he might. instead, he steps back and shakes his head. “this isn’t about that“ he says. “it is“ you argue. “because you can afford to risk conflict.”-“and you think i want to?” he asks. “yes, apparently” you say. jake laughs once, but there’s no humor in it. “you don’t know me“ he says. “yeah, maybe i don’t“ you reply. silence stretches between you. jake finally says, “i’m not building our project on altered data.” - “and i’m not tanking our evaluation over something we can strategically navigate“ you reply.

“it’s not a minor thing“ he says. “it can be managed“ you respond. jake looks at you steadily. “you’re afraid.” you lift your chin. “jake, i’m realistic.” he studies you for a moment longer before saying, “running from it won’t fix it.” - “i’m not running“ you reply as you grab your bag from the chair. jake watches you. “you are“ he says quietly. you move toward the door. “we’ll revisit this tomorrow.” -“you can’t avoid this forever“ jake says as you reach for the handle. you pause briefly but don’t turn around. “watch me“ you reply before opening the door and stepping into the hallway.

it’s been three days since the study room. three days of short, strictly necessary texts from jake about scheduling. three days of you avoiding any conversation that isn’t logistical. three days of replaying that argument in your head and getting more annoyed every time. now you’re sitting cross-legged on chaewon’s bedroom floor while sakura flips through something on her phone and yunjin lies on the bed staring at the ceiling. kazuha is sitting against the wall with a notebook in her lap, and eunchae is leaning back against jungwon’s hoodie like she lives here. “you’re quieter than usual“ yunjin says, turning her head slightly to look at you. “i’m fine“ you reply, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. chaewon glances at you from her desk chair. “that means you’re not fine.” -“i’m just busy“ you say. “with the project?” sakura asks without looking up from her phone. “yes.” yunjin shifts onto her side. “you and jake still not talking properly?”-“we are talking“ you correct. “we’re communicating.”-“that sounds worse“ sakura says.“it’s efficient“ you reply.chaewon narrows her eyes slightly. “what happened?” you hesitate for half a second, then shrug. “we disagreed about data interpretation.”-“that sounds academic“ kazuha says calmly. “it was“ you insist. yunjin sits up slightly. “that’s not what you look like when it’s academic.” you glare at her. “what does that even mean?” -“it means you look like you’re personally offended“ she replies. “i’m not,“ you exhale slowly. “the dataset they gave us was adjusted.”-“adjusted how?” sakura asks. “inconsistent with public records“ you explain. “he wants to call it out.”-“and you don’t?” kazuha asks. “it’s not that simple,“ you say quickly. “if we accuse them of manipulating data, that reflects on us.” eunchae tilts her head. “but if it’s wrong, isn’t that worse?” - “it’s not wrong,“ you argue. “it’s curated.”-“that sounds like wrong with extra steps“ yunjin says. you shoot her a look. “it’s nuanced.” chaewon leans back in her chair. “and you two argued.” - “yes“ you admit. “how bad?” sakura asks. “not too bad“ you say. “scale of one to dramatic“ yunjin presses. you hesitate. “maybe… a six.” eunchae raises her eyebrows. “that’s high for you.”-“it wasn’t dramatic,“ you say defensively. “it was controlled.”-“that’s your version of dramatic“ sakura mutters.

there’s a knock on the door and jungwon pokes his head in. “are we interrupting?” “we?” eunchae repeats. sunoo walks in behind jungwon, smiling like he already knows something. “group therapy?” he asks, glancing around. “no“ you say immediately. sunoo sits on the edge of the bed anyway. “you look like you need it.”-“i don’t“ you reply. jungwon steps fully inside and sits next to eunchae. “jake’s been weird“ he says casually. your head lifts. “weird how?” sunoo glances at jungwon with interest. “oh?” jungwon shrugs. “quieter.” - “that’s not weird“ you say. “for him it is“ jungwon replies. yunjin looks at you slowly. “your fighting made him quieter, damn.” - “we debated“ you correct. sunoo studies you carefully. “about the data?” you blink. “how do you know that?” sunoo gives you a look. “because i know him.”- “that doesn’t mean you know this“ you say. “he mentioned it“ jungwon adds. you straighten. “what did he say?”- “that you think he’s reckless“ jungwon answers honestly. you look away. “and that you think he has it easy“ sunoo says gently. your jaw tightens. “i never said that.” sunoo doesn’t argue. he just looks at you like he doesn’t need to. eunchae shifts slightly. “okay, new topic before this gets intense.” -“yes“ sakura agrees quickly. eunchae glances at jungwon. “you should tell them.” jungwon looks mildly amused. “you can.” eunchae turns to you. “there’s a party tomorrow night.” you blink. “what does that have to do with anything?”- “it’s at heeseung’s place“ jungwon explains. “small thing.” - “small?” sunoo repeats with a grin. “that’s a lie.”- “it’s manageable“ jungwon corrects. eunchae smiles slightly. “he invited me.” - “and?” you ask.- “and i thought we could all go“ she says. you immediately shake your head. “no.” yunjin groans. “you didn’t even think about it.” - “i don’t want to go“ you say. “because he’ll be there?” sakura asks carefully. “that’s not why“ you reply. “then why?” chaewon presses. “i have work, plus i never party” you say. “it’s friday“ yunjin replies. “i still have work.”-“you’ve been locked in your room for three days“ sakura says. “you need air.”- “i go outside“ you say. “walking between classes doesn’t count“ yunjin replies. sunoo leans back on his hands. “you two need to stop acting like divorced co-founders.”- “we’re not acting like anything“ you say sharply. jungwon looks at you calmly. “he hasn’t said anything bad about you.”- “i didn’t say he did.” - “you assumed he would“ sunoo says lightly. you cross your arms. “i don’t assume.”- “you do“ chaewon says gently. you look at eunchae. “you’re going?”- “yes“ she says simply. “and you want all of us to go?”- “yes.” kazuha closes her notebook. “it might actually help.”

“help what?” you ask. “break the tension“ she replies. “there is no tension“ you say. sunoo laughs quietly. “you’re very committed to that narrative.” yunjin sits up fully now. “you’ve been spiraling over this argument for days.” -“i have not.”- “you have“ sakura says. “it was an academic disagreement.”- “then why do you look personally offended?” chaewon asks. you open your mouth, then close it again. sunoo glances at jungwon before speaking. “he’s not trying to undermine you.”- “i didn’t say he was“ you reply. “you kinda did“ jungwon says. you exhale sharply. “he thinks i’m compromising.” - “and you think he’s reckless“ sunoo replies. you look at him. “he is.” sunoo shrugs. “sometimes.”- “exactly.”- “but he’s not careless“ jungwon says. you hesitate. eunchae leans forward slightly. “just come tomorrow“ she says gently. “you don’t have to talk to him.”- “that’s unrealistic“ you reply. “then don’t argue“ sakura says. “he argues with me“ you counter. “and you argue back“ yunjin says. you fall quiet. chaewon stands up and walks toward you, handing you a bottle of water. “you don’t have to prove anything at a party“ she says calmly. “i’m not proving anything.”- “you always try to“ she replies softly. that stings more than you expect. sunoo glances at jungwon again before saying, “he’s going to be there regardless.”- “i know“ you say. “and if you don’t go“ sunoo continues, “you’re still going to think about it, and it’s really not that deep” you glare at him. “you’re very invested in this.”- “i enjoy chaos“ he replies. eunchae nudges jungwon lightly. “tell her.” jungwon sighs slightly. “jake almost didn’t want to go.” you look up sharply. “why?” jungwon shrugs. “said he wasn’t in the mood.” your chest tightens for a second before you push it down. “why would i care, that’s not my problem.”-“no one said it was“ sunoo replies. “it kind of is“ yunjin mutters. you look at her. “how?”- “well, you’re both avoiding each other because of some stupid data” she says. “i’m not avoiding him.”-  “you haven’t met outside scheduled sessions“ sakura points out. “that’s intentional.”-“exactly“ yunjin says.

there’s a long pause. eunchae finally says softly, “just come. if it’s awful, we leave early.” you look around the room. five faces watching you. not judging. just waiting. “i don’t want to talk to him, i’ll just work on my part of the project alone.” you say. sunoo laughs. “he’s fun when he drinks.” - “that’s not reassuring“ you reply. “it should be“ jungwon says. you run a hand through your hair. “fine.” everyone perks up slightly. “i’ll go“ you clarify. “but i’m not staying late.” chaewon smiles faintly. “deal.”- “and if he starts something“ you add, “i’m leaving.” - “he definetly won’t“ sunoo says confidently. “you don’t know that.” - “i do“ he replies. you look away, staring at the floor for a second. tomorrow evening. a party. the thought unsettles you more than you’d like. “don’t overthink it“ yunjin says, like she read your mind. “i’m not“ you lie. sunoo stands up, stretching slightly. “this is going to be fun.”- “you’re enjoying this too much“ you tell him. “i’m just saying it will be fun. i promise” he replies with a grin.

heeseung’s house is louder than you expected. you hear the music before you even reach the gate, bass thudding through the warm evening air. yunjin walks ahead of you like she belongs here, sakura beside her already laughing at something chaewon said. kazuha is walking calmly at your side, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, while eunchae is texting jungwon. “i can still leave“ you mutter under your breath. yunjin glances over her shoulder immediately. “no.” - “i didn’t say anything“ you reply. “you were thinking loudly“ sakura says, pushing open the gate. the yard is already full. not packed, but crowded enough that you can’t slip in unnoticed. there are groups gathered around the patio,   has set up speakers near the sliding doors, and the living room inside is lit with that dim, warm light that makes everything feel softer than it is. you step inside with the others and immediately scan the room out of habit. jake is across the living room near the kitchen island. you notice him because he’s laughing louder than usually. not the controlled, polite debate-team smile. not the half-smirk he uses when he’s about to interrupt you. it’s fuller, easier. he’s leaning back against the counter with a red plastic cup in his hand, sleeves pushed up, head tilted slightly as jay says something animated in front of him. niki is half sitting on the counter, and sunoo is talking with his hands like he’s telling a dramatic story. jake looks relaxed. you look away first. “okay“ chaewon says quietly beside you, following your gaze. “we’re not staring.”-“i wasn’t“ you reply. “i was observing the room.”-“academically?” sakura asks sweetly. eunchae’s phone buzzes and she smiles. “jungwon’s in the kitchen.”- “obviously“ yunjin mutters. “where else would he be?” you take a breath and step further into the house. the music shifts into something louder, and someone near the couch cheers for no clear reason. sunoo is the first to notice your group. he lights up immediately and waves both hands. “they made it!” jake turns his head at that. your eyes meet for half a second. he raises his cup slightly in acknowledgment. you nod once. that’s it. no confrontation. just recognition. thankfully.

sunoo pushes off the counter and weaves through the crowd toward you. “you actually came“ he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “i said i would“ you reply. “i didn’t believe you“ he admits cheerfully. “you’re very supportive“ you tell him. niki appears behind him a second later. “i give her an hour“ he says, glancing at you. “before she leaves.”-“i’m staying“ you reply. “we’ll see“ niki says. jungwon steps forward next, immediately slipping an arm around eunchae’s waist. “you found it okay?” he asks her. “yes“ eunchae says with a small smile. heeseung appears from somewhere near the hallway. “drinks are in the kitchen“ he announces. “if you don’t like what’s there, that’s a you problem.”-“that’s comforting“ sakura says. you follow the group toward the kitchen. jake is still leaning against the counter when you approach. up close, you notice his eyes are slightly softer than usual and there’s a faint flush across his cheeks. he’s not drunk. but he’s not entirely sober either. he looks at you and says, “you made it“ his tone light but steady. “i said i would“ you reply. he tilts his head slightly. “i know.” there’s something about the way he says it that feels layered, but you don’t dwell on it. jay claps jake on the shoulder. “we were betting on whether you’d show“ he says to you. “do you have a gambling problem?” you ask flatly. “just friendly speculation“ jay corrects. “she was coming“ jake says casually, taking another sip from his cup. you glance at him. “you sound confident.” jake shrugs. “you don’t back out of things.” you don’t respond to that as chaewon moves past you to grab a drink from the counter. “what’s safe?” she asks heeseung. “nothing“ heeseung replies immediately. yunjin laughs. “that’s reassuring.” sunoo hands you a cup without asking what you want. “start light“ he advises. “i’m not planning to get drunk“ you tell him. “famous last words“ niki says. you take a cautious sip. it’s stronger than you expected. jake notices your expression and smirks slightly. “too much?” - “it’s fine“ you say. he studies you for a second longer than necessary before looking away.

the kitchen grows louder as more people filter in. someone turns the music up again. jungwon and eunchae drift slightly toward the living room couch together. jay and heeseung start arguing about something sports-related. you find yourself standing in a loose circle with chaewon, sakura, yunjin, kazuha, sunoo, niki, and jake hovering just slightly off to the side. sunoo looks around at the combined group and claps his hands once. “okay. we’re merging.“- “we’re not countries“ you reply. “speak for yourself“ niki says. “i’m a sovereign state.”-“you’re barely functional“ sakura tells him. jake laughs quietly at that. you pretend not to notice how easy it sounds. sunoo gestures between everyone. “this is good. cross-cultural exchange.”-“we go to the same university“ kazuha points out calmly. “still counts“ sunoo insists. heeseung leans against the fridge and surveys the group. “are we doing something or just standing here like we‘re in a debate?”-“we can do both“ you say. jake looks at you immediately. “you would.” you meet his gaze. “you wouldn’t?” he tilts his head. “depends.” -“on?” you ask. “how competitive you’re feeling tonight“ he replies. niki groans dramatically. “don’t start.”-“i’m not starting“ you say at the same time jake says, “relax.” sunoo looks between you both. “you two talk like you’re in a panel discussion.”-“it’s a habit“ jake says lightly. “break it“ yunjin tells him. jake raises an eyebrow at her. “you first.” she laughs. “not my rivalry.” -“it’s not a rivalry“ you say automatically.niki points at you. “you said that very fast.” jake takes another sip of his drink, watching the exchange with mild amusement. he doesn’t jump in this time. chaewon nudges you gently. “loosen up“ she murmurs. “i am loose“ you reply. sunoo looks at jake and then back at you. “he’s already ahead of you.” - “i’m not competing“ you say. jake finally steps closer into the circle. “you’re always competing“ he says casually. “with you?” you ask. “with everyone“ he replies. “that’s projection“ you say. niki looks between you. “see, this is why we needed you here. the energy is unmatched.” heeseung nods. “it was too calm before.” you roll your eyes. “you’re welcome.”

sunoo suddenly looks inspired. “okay, we’re playing something.”- “we just got here“ kazuha says. “exactly“ sunoo replies. “prime time.” - “not yet“ jungwon calls from the couch. “give it ten minutes.” jake glances at you again. “you planning to stay?” he asks, tone neutral. “for now“ you reply. he nods once. “good, you really need to loosen up a bit.” you study him for a moment. “you smell like cheap beer.” he doesn’t deny it. “a little.” - “already?” you ask. “it’s been longer than you think“ he says. “you got here early?” you ask. he shrugs. “helped set up.” you pause at that. you hadn’t expected that answer. before you can respond, jay calls jake’s name from across the room. jake glances over, then back at you. he nods once, then moves away toward jay. you watch him go for half a second before chaewon snaps her fingers in front of your face. “eyes up“ she says. “i wasn’t-” you start. “you were“ sakura says. you take another sip of your drink and decide not to answer. the group slowly spreads out into smaller conversations, but there’s an underlying pull that keeps everyone within the same area. jungwon drifts back toward the kitchen with eunchae still at his side. niki climbs onto one of the bar stools. sunoo is narrating something dramatic again. jake returns a few minutes later, cup refilled. he stands slightly closer this time. “you’re quieter than usual“ he says, looking at you rather than the group. “i’m listening“ you reply. “to what?” he asks. “everything“ you say. he studies you for a moment, then nods slightly like that answer makes sense. across the room, someone cheers loudly. the music shifts again. sunoo suddenly raises his voice. “okay, that’s enough standing. we’re doing something.“- “what?” heeseung asks. “we‘re socializing like adults. let‘s playing something.” sunoo says. heeseung groans from the armchair. “define something.” - “never have i ever“ sunoo declares.“that sounds threatening“ sakura says. jake drops down onto the rug across from you, legs stretched out, leaning back on his hands. “i’m in“ he says easily, already sounding a little looser than earlier. niki drags a coffee table slightly out of the way to make space. jungwon sits down beside eunchae, automatically pulling her closer. jay flops down next to jake, and chaewon settles cross-legged beside you.

“rules“ sunoo says, raising his cup. “you say something you’ve never done. anyone who has done it drinks.”-“simple“ kazuha says. “and no lying“ niki adds. jake tilts his head slightly. “who’s enforcing that?”-“i am“ niki says. “you can’t even enforce your own bedtime“ jay tells him. sunoo points dramatically. “i’ll start.” he clears his throat like he’s about to present a thesis. “never have i ever pretended to understand a reading in class.” there’s immediate movement. heeseung drinks. jay drinks. niki drinks. jake raises his cup without hesitation and takes a sip. you look around, unimpressed. yunjin squints at you. “you’re not drinking?“- “i’ve never pretended“ you say calmly. jake lets out a soft laugh. “of course you haven’t.” - “have you?” you ask. jake lowers his cup and looks at you. “absolutely.” you raise an eyebrow. “that explains a lot.”  he smirks slightly. “you say that like you’ve never winged a seminar.”-“i always prepare“ you reply. “obsessively“ niki adds. sunoo points at you. “see, this is what i mean. she’s terrifying.” -“it’s called competence“ you correct. jake tips his cup slightly toward you. “relax, professor.” you narrow your eyes. “i’m not tense.” sunoo claps again. “next!” jay leans forward. “never have i ever skipped a lecture to go out.” multiple people drink immediately. jake drinks again without hesitation. you don’t move. niki notices and looks at you suspiciously. “you’ve never skipped?” - “no“ you reply. “not even once?” sakura asks. “i don’t skip lectures“ you say. jake shakes his head slowly, smiling faintly. “that’s insane.” he gestures vaguely with his cup. “you need to live a little.”- “and you all need to attend class“ you shoot back. he laughs, louder this time. “i attend.”- “you arrive late“ you say. “that’s different“ he insists. “that’s worse“ you reply. sunoo is watching the two of you like this is premium entertainment. “is this considered academic foreplay?“ he mutters. “shut up“ you say automatically. jake nearly chokes on his drink laughing. jungwon clears his throat, amused. “my turn.” he looks around thoughtfully. “never have i ever argued with a professor during class.” there’s a pause. then jake drinks. niki drinks enthusiastically. “you’ve argued?” you ask them. jake wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “multiple times.”- “of course you have“ you say. he leans slightly toward you. “you haven’t?”-“i pick my battles“ you reply. “you avoid some of them“ he counters. “that’s called strategy.”-“that’s called fear of confrontation“ he says, grinning. you lean back slightly. “you’re tipsy.”-“and?” he asks. “it’s making you louder“ you reply. “it’s making him honest“ niki says. sunoo whistles softly. “oh, that’s a line.” jake waves him off. “relax.” chaewon nudges you. “you’re still not drinking.” you shrug slightly. “i’m pacing.” niki leans forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees. “okay“ he says casually, glancing around the circle. “we’re done pretending this is educational.” sunoo smirks. “it never was.” niki lifts his cup. “never have i ever hooked up in a university bathroom.” there’s a brief pause. then jungwon takes a sip without looking up. jay drinks. heeseung drinks. yunjin drinks. jake lifts his cup and drinks too, barely reacting. eunchae rolls her eyes lightly at jungwon. “freshman year?” jungwon shrugs. “allegedly.” kazuha shakes her head but doesn’t look surprised.

jay nudges niki. “you definitely asked that because you have a story.“- “i always have a story“ niki replies. sunoo points lazily. “most likely to hook up somewhere public.” this time, a few people point at niki immediately. niki grins. “probably.” jake doesn’t vote. he’s staring vaguely at the ceiling like he’s half listening. chaewon takes a small sip and shakes her head. “you’re all predictable.” - “your turn“ heeseung says, gesturing at her. chaewon considers it for a moment. “never have i flirted with a ta for a better grade.” there’s quiet laughter. jay drinks. niki drinks. heeseung drinks slowly. jake doesn’t. jake glances at jay. “that’s embarrassing.” jay shrugs. “it worked once.”-“you’re admitting that?” sakura asks calmly. jay nods. “proudly.” the game keeps moving without much structure now. people speak when they feel like it. heeseung raises his cup. “never have i ever pulled an all-nighter and cried about it.” that one hits differently. jungwon drinks.yunjin drinks. you take a small sip this time. jake hesitates, then drinks too. niki notices you drinking again and squints. “you’re way too sober.”-“i need to drive later“ you reply. he shrugs and moves on. jay leans forward next. “most likely to ghost someone after one date.” sakura points at niki immediately. niki raises his cup. “i have standards.”-“you have attachement issues“ sunoo corrects. jake laughs under his breath at that and reaches blindly for a refill from a bottle near the table, misjudging slightly before steadying himself. he’s definitely drunk now. jungwon raises an eyebrow at jake. “you good?” jake nods once. “perfect.” niki smirks. “that means no.” kazuha looks thoughtful. “never have i ever thought about dropping my major.” a few people drink. you don’t. jake does. he doesn’t look at anyone when he does it. the detail lingers quietly in your mind, but you don’t acknowledge it. sunoo glances at him briefly, then deliberately looks away like he’s not going to push. eunchae speaks next. “most likely to burn out before graduation.”a few people point at jay. jay protests weakly.no one points at you this time. jake watches the votes but doesn’t say anything. niki suddenly shifts the energy again.

“okay. it’s getting boring again. who’s the hottest person in this room?” there’s a collective groan, but no one looks shocked. heeseung immediately gestures vaguely around. “broad category.” - “pick one“ niki insists. sakura laughs. “that’s dangerous.”-“exactly“ niki replies. jay shrugs. “jungwon.” jungwon blinks. “what?” - “you have good hair“ jay says. jungwon nods thoughtfully. “valid.” heeseung points at kazuha. kazuha stares at him flatly. “why?”-“because you look calm“ he replies. “that’s your standard?” she asks. jake laughs again, softer this time, and lifts his cup lazily. “this is chaotic.” niki points directly at him. “answer.” jake looks around the circle slowly, clearly thinking much longer than necessary. jake finally gestures vaguely toward the group. “statistically impossible to choose.” - “that’s a cop-out“ niki says. jake shrugs. “i’m diplomatic.”- “you’re so fucking drunk“ jungwon corrects. jake smiles lazily. “also true.” the game continues without structure now - people throwing out “never have i ever” and “most likely to” whenever they feel like it.“never have i ever kissed someone from a rival department“ jay says. niki drinks. heeseung drinks. jake drinks again, slower this time. sunoo watches him carefully. niki tosses another one out. “never have i ever thought about someone here more than once.” that one is looser. casual. everyone drinks, except for you. jake sets his empty cup down and exhales slowly. he leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes for a second longer than normal. jungwon nudges him lightly. “you’re done.” jake opens one eye. “i’m fine.”-“you’re obviously not“ jungwon says calmly. jake sits up slightly, steadying himself with one hand on the floor. “i said i’m fine.” and the second he stands, there’s a slight delay in his balance. jake corrects himself quickly, brushing it off with a small laugh. “see?” niki squints at him. “you’re cut off.” jake waves him off lazily. “you’re not in charge.” sunoo stands up too, stepping closer subtly in case he needs to catch him. the game dissolves into chaotic commentary after that. people start talking over each other. someone suggests music. jay is trying to explain something loudly to heeseung. jake leans back again, head tilting slightly as he looks at the ceiling. he’s very clearly drunk now.

someone changes the music to something louder, bass heavier. jay starts arguing with heeseung about who has the worst first-year haircut. niki is halfway through telling a story that keeps changing depending on who interrupts him. jake is in the middle of it. he’s sitting on the arm of the couch now, leaning too far back, one foot hooked loosely under the coffee table like that’s enough to stabilize him. he’s laughing harder than necessary at something sunoo says, head tipping back fully this time. “you’re enjoying this too much“ sunoo tells him, amused. jake waves him off loosely. “you’re dramatic.”- “that’s my brand“ sunoo replies. jake slides off the couch arm and lands on his feet, slightly off balance. jungwon immediately steadies him by grabbing his sleeve. “i’m fine“ jake says, pulling his arm back with a lazy grin. “stop babysitting.”- “you’re not fine“ jungwon replies calmly. jake ignores him and points at jay instead. “tell them about the time you tried to impress that philosophy major.” jay groans. “why are you like this?”- “because it’s fun“ jake says. he attempts to reenact something- some exaggerated bow combined with a poorly delivered line. his foot catches slightly on the edge of the rug, and he stumbles forward into niki. niki bursts out laughing. “oh my god. you’re done.” jake straightens immediately, offended. “i am not done.” - “you tried to bow and almost face-planted“ niki says. “it was intentional“ jake insists. “it was tragic“ jay corrects. jake points at jay with unnecessary seriousness. “you’re jealous.” - “no one is jealous of that“ jungwon says dryly. jake pushes himself upright and adjusts his shirt like dignity can be recovered that easily. “i need another drink“ he announces. “no“ jungwon says immediately. “yes“ jake replies, already moving toward the kitchen. you step forward at the same time jungwon does. jungwon reaches him first and grabs his wrist lightly. “you’re cut off.” jake looks down at jungwon’s hand like it personally offended him. “you don’t control me.” - “you can barely walk“ jungwon says evenly. jake rolls his eyes and tries to pull free. he succeeds, but only because jungwon lets go. jake makes it three steps toward the counter before you move into his path. “you don’t need another one, it’s getting hard to watch” you say calmly. he blinks at you slowly, focusing like it’s taking effort. “you’re… still here.”- “yes“ you reply. “good“ he says vaguely. he tries to sidestep you. you shift slightly to block him without making it obvious. “you’re not drinking more“ you tell him. he tilts his head. “why do you care?”- “i don’t,“ you say automatically. “i just don’t want you embarrassing yourself further.” he squints at you like he’s trying to decode whether that was an insult. jungwon steps up beside you. “she’s right.” jake exhales dramatically. “you two are teaming up. that’s suspicious.”-“you’re swaying“ jungwon says. jake pauses. then, as if proving the point, he sways. he catches himself on the counter, laughing at his own lack of coordination. “gravity is aggressive.”- “okay, you’re done“ jungwon repeats.

jake looks at you again. his expression shifts slightly-less performative, more unfocused. “you didn’t drink much“ he says. you shrug. “i’m driving.” he nods slowly like that makes sense to him. then he reaches for a bottle on the counter. you move first and gently push it out of reach. “no.” he stares at your hand like it betrayed him. “why are you mean?” he asks, not angrily-just confused. “i’m not mean“ you reply. “you are“ he insists softly. jungwon steps closer now, lowering his voice. “okay. that’s enough.” jake blinks again, then leans back against the counter heavily. for a moment, he looks like he’s just resting. then his head tips forward. “jake“ jungwon says immediately. jake doesn’t respond. you step closer. “jake.” he makes a vague sound but doesn’t lift his head. jungwon grabs his shoulders and straightens him carefully. “hey. stay with me.” jake opens his eyes halfway, unfocused. “i’m here.” - “barely“ jungwon replies. jake exhales and lets his weight drop slightly forward again. you glance around. the party is still going. no one is paying close attention. jungwon looks at you. “when are you leaving?” you hesitate. “soon. it’s getting too much.” he nods once. “can you drive?” - “yes“ you say automatically. jungwon exhales. “good.” you immediately shake your head. “no.” he looks at you. “what?”- “i’m not driving him.”-“you just said you’re leaving.”- “that doesn’t mean i’m responsible for him“ you reply. jungwon lowers his voice. “he can’t stay here like this.”-“niki can deal with it“ you say. “niki’s already half gone“ jungwon replies. “and heeseung will just film him.” you glance at jake, who is now leaning almost fully into jungwon for support. “i don’t even know if he can walk to the car“ you say. “i’ll help“ jungwon says immediately. you hesitate. “he’s not going to wake up properly if we leave him here“ jungwon continues. “and i don’t trust anyone else to get him back safely.” you cross your arms. “just ask anyone, why me?” jungwon looks at you directly. “because you’re sober.” that’s true. you look at jake again. he mumbles something incoherent and shifts his weight again.“i’ll carry him to your car“ jungwon says quietly. you hesitate longer than you should. “i’ll call sunghoon“ jungwon adds quickly. “he’s at the dorm. he’ll come downstairs and carry him up.” you blink. “sunghoon’s there?“- “yes“ jungwon says. “he didn’t come tonight.” you still hesitate. jungwon’s tone softens. “please.” you look at him. “why are you asking me like this?“- “because i don’t want him waking up on heeseung’s lawn“ jungwon says honestly. you sigh heavily. “you’ll just drop him off, that’s it” jungwon continues. “he won‘t even talk to you. i’ll text sunghoon now. he’ll be waiting outside.” jake shifts again, almost slipping. and it’s true, jake probably won’t be able to talk. he’s so drunk he can barely get a word out. the ride will likely be quiet anyway, so you decide to give up. “he’s heavier than he looks“ jungwon mutters. you stare at jake for a second longer. then you exhale slowly. “fine.” relief flashes across jungwon’s face. “thank you.”-“he’s so annoying“ you say quickly. “i know“ jungwon replies. jake makes a soft, incoherent protest as you both adjust his arms over your shoulders. “don’t let him throw up in your car, but i don’t think he will.” jungwon adds under his breath. you glare at him. “that’s not helpful.” jungwon manages a small smile despite everything. “i’ll text sunghoon now.” jake’s weight settles more fully against you.

jungwon and you practically carry him to the car. jake is heavier than he looks. not in a dramatic way - just dead weight in the way only drunk people can be. jungwon has one of his arms thrown over his shoulder, and you’re holding the other side, trying not to let his shoes drag across the pavement. “he’s not this heavy normally“ jungwon mutters under his breath. “he’s not normally unconscious“ you reply. “i’m conscious“ jake mumbles suddenly, lifting his head just enough to protest. “you’re both… dramatic.” jungwon snorts quietly. “sure.” by the time you reach your car, jake’s head is lolling slightly again. jungwon opens the back door and helps guide him inside. it’s not graceful. jake’s foot catches on the doorframe, and jungwon has to physically guide his head down so he doesn’t knock it against the roof. “sit“ jungwon says firmly as he pushes jake back against the seat. jake blinks up at him, unfocused but indignant, and mutters, “i am sitting“ in a tone that suggests he believes he’s proving something. you stand by the open door for a second, arms crossed, watching as jungwon adjusts jake’s legs fully into the car and pulls the seatbelt across him. “you’re not allowed to unbuckle this“ jungwon warns. jake squints at him and replies, “you’re not allowed to threaten me in my own vehicle“ which makes jungwon sigh and glance at you. “it’s her car“ jungwon corrects, and jake goes quiet for a beat before mumbling, “oh. that explains a lot.” jungwon straightens and looks at you over the roof of the car. “sunghoon’s at the dorm“ he says. “i texted him. he’ll meet you outside.” you nod once. “if he throws up-” you begin, but jungwon cuts you off with a firm, “he won’t“ though jake chooses that exact moment to murmur, “i might“ with unsettling honesty. you close the door gently before he can elaborate and walk around to the driver’s seat. the engine hums to life, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of the air conditioning and jake shifting in the back.

as you pull out of the curb, jake lifts his head just enough to squint at the back of your seat. “you’re driving“ he says slowly, like he’s discovering something profound. “yes“ you reply evenly, keeping your eyes on the road. “that’s suspicious“ he continues, leaning his head back against the window. “how is that suspicious?” you ask, unable to stop the small edge of amusement in your voice. “because you don’t volunteer“ he says, his words slightly tangled but determined. “i didn’t volunteer“ you correct him. “you collapsed.” he makes a weak protest. “i did not collapse“ he insists. “you were horizontal“ you reply. “that’s… interpretive“ he mutters, and then goes quiet again.  you drive in silence for a few seconds before he speaks again, his voice softer but still muddled. “you didn’t drink“ he says, almost accusingly. you glance at him through the rearview mirror and see him blinking slowly like he’s trying to focus on you. “i paced,“ you answer. he shakes his head slightly, the movement uncoordinated. “and you drank enough for both of us.” he hums thoughtfully, then says, “that’s efficient“ with misplaced approval. the streetlights pass in steady rhythm, illuminating his face in brief flashes, and you can see the shift happening slowly-less chaotic, more reflective. after a minute, his voice comes again, quieter and more deliberate. “you don’t trust me“ he says, and the tone makes your hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “that‘s not it“ you reply automatically. he shakes his head against the glass. “you think i’m reckless“ he says, and though the words aren’t slurred anymore, they’re heavy. “i think you take risks“ you answer carefully. “that’s not the same.” he exhales, long and unsteady. “you think i don’t care“ he continues. “i never said that“ you tell him, but he responds immediately, “you did“ and there’s no humor in his voice now. the car feels smaller as he shifts upright, pushing himself forward slightly despite the way his balance wavers. “you think i have it easy“ he says, and this time his words land cleanly. you hesitate before replying, “that’s not what i meant.” he lets out a short laugh that sounds more tired than amused. “it always is“ he says. he rubs a hand over his face and stares at his knees. “you think because i went to private school and because i don’t panic before presentations that i don’t try“ he continues, and the vulnerability creeping into his voice makes your chest tighten. “i know you try“ you say quietly. “no“ he says, shaking his head. “you know i win. that’s different.” the road is almost empty now, and his voice steadies further as if the motion of the car is grounding him. “if i’m not good at this,“ he says slowly, “then what am i?” you glance back at him, startled by the honesty in the question. “you are good at this“ you tell him firmly. he swallows and looks out the window. “that’s the problem“ he replies. “everyone expects that.” he exhales shakily and continues, “my parents expect it. my teachers expect it. everyone here expects it. if i drop, if i mess up, it’s not just a bad semester. it’s confirmation.” you don’t interrupt him this time. he presses his fingers against his eyes like he’s trying to hold something back. “you think i can afford to call out the university because i have options“ he says, his voice thinner now. “i don’t. if i look difficult, if i lose ranking, it follows me. i don’t get to just disappear.” you feel the guilt settle heavy in your stomach as he goes on. “i admire you“ he says suddenly, and the simplicity of it catches you off guard. “you don’t improvise. you don’t gamble. you build everything carefully, like if you just work hard enough, nothing can surprise you.”

he lets out a breath that wavers halfway through. “you scare me“ he admits, and you glance back at him again, stunned. “why?” you ask softly. he answers without hesitation. “because you deserve to be first“ he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. “and if i beat you, it feels like i stole something.” the confession sits heavy in the car. he drags a hand down his face and laughs weakly at himself. “this is stupid“ he says. “i’m drunk.” -“you’re honest“ you correct him gently. he shakes his head again, and this time when he speaks, his voice wavers. “i’m tired“ he says quietly. “i’m tired of being the one who’s supposed to just be good at it.” there’s a small pause, and then his breathing changes. he swipes at his face quickly, embarrassed, but you can see in the mirror that his eyes are wet. “you don’t get to fall apart when you’re the talented one,“ he says, barely above a whisper. “you just get better.” your throat tightens as you pull into the dorm parking lot.

sunghoon is already waiting near the entrance, hands in his pockets, watching your headlights approach. jake exhales shakily from the backseat. “i didn’t want you to think i didn’t care“ he says softly, his voice steadier now but fragile. “i don’t think that“ you reply, and this time you mean it completely. he looks at the back of your seat like he’s memorizing something and whispers, “i was happy when we got paired.” the words linger in the space between you. “i wanted to work with you“ he adds, and there’s no competition in his voice anymore, just sincerity. you put the car in park and sit there for a moment, the engine still running. everything feels different now-quieter, heavier, real. “you don’t have it easy“ you say finally, turning slightly in your seat so he can see you. he blinks at you slowly, exhausted, and nods once like that’s enough. when sunghoon opens the back door and carefully lifts him out, jake doesn’t resist. as sunghoon takes his weight, jake glances at you one last time and murmurs, “you work harder than anyone“ before his head drops against sunghoon’s shoulder. you watch them disappear into the dorm building, the door closing softly behind them, and for the first time since freshman year, the rivalry doesn’t feel like a war.

the next morning jake wakes up aware of two things at once: his head feels like it’s been hollowed out and replaced with concrete, and something about last night went wrong. he stares at the ceiling of the dorm room for a long moment before rolling onto his side and immediately regretting the movement. across the room, niki is already awake, sitting in the desk chair with one leg hooked over the armrest, watching him with poorly concealed amusement. “you look tragic“ niki remarks casually, spinning the chair once before planting his feet on the ground. jake squints at him and mutters, “lower your voice“ pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. from the bathroom doorway, sunghoon steps out holding a glass of water and says calmly, “drink this before you attempt to stand“ placing it into jake’s hand without ceremony. jake takes it and downs half in one go before asking, with visible suspicion, “what happened?”  niki leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and asks with a grin, “you seriously don’t remember?” jake frowns and shakes his head slightly before stopping himself because it hurts. “i remember the game“ he says slowly. “i remember jay yelling. that’s it.” sunghoon crosses his arms and replies in his usual measured tone, “you didn’t come back alone.” jake’s stomach tightens. “what does that mean?” he asks carefully. niki answers first, unable to resist, saying, “it means jungwon called because you were barely functional.” jake blinks and asks, “who drove me?” sunghoon answers evenly, “your debate partner.” jake stares at him for a second before repeating, “y/n?” as if confirming something he’s not ready to process. sunghoon nods once. jake runs a hand through his hair and mutters, “that’s not ideal.” he goes quiet for a moment, then looks up sharply and asks, “did i do something?” the question comes out more urgent than he intended. “did i hook up with someone?” niki laughs immediately and says, “that’s your first assumption?” jake shoots him a look and says firmly, “answer.” sunghoon responds first, shaking his head. “you didn’t,“ he clarifies. jake exhales through his nose, some tension leaving him.

 but sunghoon continues after a brief pause, “but you did cry.” the word hangs in the air. niki’s grin drops for a second before he straightens and asks, “wait. actually?” sunghoon nods once and repeats calmly, “yes. in the car.” jake stares at him. “no“ he says flatly. “i didn’t.” sunghoon doesn’t argue. he simply says, “jungwon said you were emotional. quiet, but emotional.” niki processes that for a second before letting out a surprised laugh. “you cried in her car?” he repeats, now fully invested. jake presses his palms to his face and mutters, “stop talking.” niki stands up and walks closer, still grinning. “this is huge“ he says. “you only cry during finals.” jake lowers his hands slowly. “what did i say?” he asks sunghoon, ignoring niki. sunghoon shrugs slightly and answers, “i don’t know. i saw you crying in her car. that’s it.” niki folds his arms and studies jake. “so you don’t remember anything?” he asks, this time less teasing and more curious. jake shakes his head once, carefully. “no“ he admits. “i remember getting into a car. that’s it.” niki whistles softly and says, “that’s worse“ before adding, “because now she knows whatever you said and you don’t.” jake glares at him but doesn’t deny it. he reaches for his phone with more hesitation than he’d like to show. he opens your chat and stares at your name for a long moment before typing,

jake: did i embarrass myself last night?

niki leans slightly over his shoulder and comments, “that’s subtle“ and jake nudges him away without looking up, muttering, “back off.” he sends the message and waits, staring at the screen like it might offer him context. when your reply arrives  

you: you were drunk.

jake exhales softly, but the neutrality unsettles him. he types back,

jake: that’s not what i asked

and waits again.

across campus, you’re sitting at your desk, notes spread out in front of you, when your phone lights up. you know immediately what it’s about. you read his message and feel the memory of the car ride settle heavy in your chest - the way his voice cracked, the way he said he was tired of being expected to be better.

you: you didn’t embarrass yourself

keeping the tone light and detached. on his side, jake reads the message twice before typing again,

jake: did i say anything weird?

he sends it quickly, like he doesn’t want to overthink it. you stare at the screen for several seconds before answering. you don’t want to humiliate him. you don’t want to expose him.

you: you talked about rankings and stress.

that’s true, just not complete. back in the dorm room, jake reads your response and feels some of the tension in his shoulders ease. stress. that’s manageable. he types again

jake: i didn’t insult you, did i?

you: no.

he nods faintly to himself. niki watches his expression carefully and asks, “well?” jake locks his phone and replies evenly, “she said i didn’t embarrass myself.” niki raises an eyebrow and says, “that’s suspiciously generous“ but jake ignores him. he picks up his phone one more time and types,

jake: can we finish the project the day after tomorrow? i feel like i got hit by a truck.

you: sure

jake: and thanks. for driving me.

you: sure, just don’t mention it.

jake stares at that final reply for a moment before setting his phone down on the desk. the room falls quiet except for niki moving around behind him. jake leans back against the wall and closes his eyes briefly. he doesn’t remember crying. he doesn’t remember what he said. he doesn’t know how much of himself he exposed. and the fact that you now hold that information - while he doesn’t - sits heavier than the hangover pressing behind his eyes.

across campus, you turn your phone face down and stare at your open notebook without really seeing the words. you know exactly what he said. and you know he has no idea that you do. you pack your bags and meet sunoo at the campus café because he insists he “can’t process academic corruption without caffeine“ and even though that sounds dramatic, you don’t argue. the place is warm and loud enough to feel private, sunlight filtering through the tall windows while conversations blur into background noise. sunoo is already seated when you arrive, two drinks placed neatly in front of him. as you sit down, he slides one toward you and says, “i ordered your usual. you looked like you were going to overthink something today.” you wrap your hands around the cup and raise an eyebrow at him before replying, “i always overthink something.” sunoo smiles slightly and leans back in his chair. “exactly“ he says. he studies your face for a moment before shifting the conversation. “so“ he begins casually, “you drove him.” you keep your expression neutral as you answer, “yes.” sunoo nods once and asks, lowering his voice slightly, “how bad was it?” you take a small sip of your drink before responding, “very drunk.” sunoo exhales through his nose and says, “he doesn’t usually let himself get like that.” you glance at him briefly and reply, “i noticed.” there’s a small pause before sunoo tilts his head and asks, “did he text you?” you nod. “he did.” sunoo watches you carefully and follows with, “and?” you keep your tone even as you answer, “he doesn’t remember much.” sunoo nods slowly and says, “that’s probably for the best. he hates feeling exposed.” you don’t react to that, instead shifting the focus deliberately. you pull your notebook closer and say, “the dataset isn’t just inconsistent. it’s selectively adjusted. the sample breakdown doesn’t match the raw counts.” sunoo immediately straightens and opens his laptop as he replies, “jake showed me the comparison sheet yesterday.” you pause slightly and ask, “he did?” sunoo nods and continues, “yeah. he already mapped out a way to question the methodology without directly accusing anyone.”

you consider that for a moment before saying carefully, “it’s structured well, but it’s risky.” sunoo looks at you and replies evenly, “it’s measured risk. that’s different.” you fold your hands together on the table and say, “challenging the dataset could imply bias within the department.” sunoo doesn’t hesitate before asking, “do you think he’s wrong?” you look down briefly before admitting, “no.” sunoo watches you closely and says, “then what’s the hesitation?” you glance at your notes and answer, “presentation matters.” sunoo nods immediately and replies, “of course it does, but you’re good at that.” you look back up at him and say, “that doesn’t eliminate the risk.” sunoo gives you a small, knowing smile and says, “you’re not afraid of risk. you’re afraid of looking reckless.” you don’t deny it, and the silence that follows stretches just long enough to feel intentional. after a moment, sunoo raises his hand slightly as if outlining an argument. “option one“ he says, “you present the data as given. safe. high marks. no friction.” you nod faintly. “option two“ he continues, “you follow jake’s structure, highlight the inconsistencies, and frame it as critical engagement.” you meet his eyes and say, “option two could irritate the professor.” sunoo shrugs lightly and replies, “or it could impress him.” you sit back in your chair, considering that. sunoo leans forward slightly and says, “you trust him academically.” you answer without hesitation, “yes.” sunoo nods once and says, “then build on his framework. refine it. that’s what you’re good at.” he pauses before adding quietly, “he’s not reckless.” you look at him sharply, and sunoo continues calmly, “he thinks more than he shows.” you exhale slowly before nodding once. “okay“ you say. sunoo smiles faintly and asks, “okay?” you clarify, “i’ll follow up with him. we’ll use his structure, and i’ll tighten the language.” sunoo closes his laptop and says lightly, “that sounds suspiciously like collaboration.” you give him a look and reply, “don’t romanticize it.” sunoo laughs softly and says, “fine. efficiency.” as you gather your notes, he adds, “he’ll appreciate that you’re backing his approach.” you pause briefly before answering evenly, “it’s not about appreciation. it’s about accuracy.” sunoo smiles in a way that suggests he doesn’t entirely believe you but doesn’t argue further.

after sunoo’s motivational speech the walk to the study room feels strangely normal, which unsettles you more than if it had felt dramatic. students move through campus in steady streams, doors open and close, conversations overlap in the courtyard, and nothing reflects the quiet shift you feel internally. you push that thought aside as you enter the study building and walk down the narrow hallway toward the reserved room. the fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, and the familiar scent of dry-erase markers lingers in the air. when you step inside, eunchae is already seated at the table with printed notes spread in front of her, and jungwon is standing near the whiteboard with a marker in his hand, staring at an unfinished outline. eunchae looks up first and says with a small smile, “you’re early“ while jungwon glances at the wall clock and adds without turning fully toward you, “you’re usually not this early unless something’s bothering you.” you place your bag on the chair and reply evenly, “i wanted to go over the dataset section again“ then slide into your seat and open your laptop. jungwon sets the marker down and walks over to the table, folding his arms lightly as he asks, “still thinking about the imbalance jake pointed out?” you nod once and answer, “yes. the sample distribution doesn’t align with the raw counts, and if we present it without addressing that, it weakens the entire argument.” eunchae leans forward slightly and says, “yesterday you sounded hesitant about pushing it“ and you glance briefly at her before clarifying, “i was hesitant about how it was framed, not about whether it was valid.” you scroll to the shared document and reread the section quietly for a moment before beginning to type. jungwon watches the screen and asks, “so what are you changing?” without looking up, you respond, “we’re not accusing anyone of bias. we’re identifying a methodological inconsistency and inviting clarification.” eunchae nods slowly and says, “that sounds less confrontational“ and you answer, “it’s not about confrontation. it’s about precision.” jungwon leans closer to the table and observes, “you’re integrating the alternative distribution model he referenced“ and you confirm, “yes. it strengthens the critique without sounding defensive.” the room grows quieter as you restructure one of the central paragraphs, moving the statistical comparison earlier so the logic builds gradually. eunchae studies the screen and says thoughtfully, “that reads stronger“ and jungwon adds, “it shows depth without implying misconduct.” you pause, reread the revised paragraph, and then say, “it’s defensible now.” jungwon looks at you carefully and asks, “you’re comfortable standing behind that?” you meet his gaze and answer, “yes.” there’s a brief pause before jungwon asks more carefully, “you and jake didn’t argue about this?” you close your laptop halfway and respond calmly, “we didn’t need to.” eunchae glances between the two of you and says quietly, “he’ll probably appreciate that you’re not dismissing his point“ and you reply, keeping your tone steady, “this isn’t about him. it’s about the integrity of the argument.” jungwon gives you a knowing look and says, “sure“ but doesn’t press further. you reopen your laptop and read the section from top to bottom one final time before saying, “we’ll present it like this.” jungwon nods once and says, “i agree“ and eunchae follows with, “so do i.” you save the document without adding anything else. you didn’t do this to surprise him. you didn’t do it to prove anything. you did it because it was correct. as the three of you move on to the next portion of the project, discussing transitions and citation formatting, you realize something subtle but undeniable: choosing to stand beside his reasoning academically doesn’t feel like losing ground. it actually feels like the right thing to do.

it’s the next day and you arrive at the study room before him, though not intentionally this time. the hallway smells faintly of dry-erase marker and overused carpet cleaner, and the fluorescent lights hum softly overhead. you set your laptop down and open the revised draft of the policy section, rereading the paragraph you integrated from his framework last night. the structure is solid. risky, but solid. you didn’t misjudge him. you just didn’t look closely enough. the door opens, and jake steps inside looking noticeably less polished than usual. his hair isn’t styled with the same careless precision, and there’s a slight stiffness in the way he moves, like every sound is sharper than it should be. he drops his bag into the chair across from you and says, “if you scheduled this early as revenge, i respect it“ rubbing a hand briefly over his face. “it’s ten“ you reply calmly, closing the document tab and turning your screen slightly toward him. “that’s not early.”- “for someone who feels like they swallowed broken glass, it is“ he mutters, lowering himself into the chair with exaggerated care. you study him for half a second longer than usual before asking, “it’s been two days, did you at least drink water?” he blinks at you, mildly surprised. “that’s unexpectedly considerate.” - “answer the question“ you say, though there’s less bite behind it. “yes“ he replies, leaning back slightly. “niki forced electrolytes on me like i was a dying victorian child.” you almost smile. “good.” there’s a small pause while he opens his laptop. his eyes flick toward you, searching your expression in a way that feels different now that you know what you know. he doesn’t remember the car ride. he doesn’t remember admitting he was tired. he doesn’t remember saying he was happy to work with you. “did i make a complete idiot of myself?” he asks finally, keeping his tone light but not quite meeting your eyes. “no“ you answer evenly, and this time it’s fully true. he studies you for a second, as if testing for sarcasm. “that sounded suspiciously sincere.” - “it was“ you reply, folding your hands neatly on the table. “you were drunk. not reckless.” something in his posture shifts slightly at that word. he exhales through his nose and nods once. “that’s… reassuring.” you open the shared document and scroll to the revised methodology section. “i restructured the critique“ you say, turning the screen toward him. “i kept your comparative distribution model but moved it earlier so the logic builds before the challenge.” he leans forward to read, closer than necessary, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. “you integrated it cleanly“ he says after a moment, scrolling carefully. “you softened the phrasing.”-“it’s not softened“ you correct gently. “it’s precise.” he glances at you. “you’re backing it.“- “yes“ you say simply. he watches you more carefully now. “that’s risky.” - “it’s defensible“ you reply. “you weren’t wrong.” the silence that follows is different from your usual standoffs. there’s no edge to it. no competition. just acknowledgment.

he sits back slightly and tilts his head. “you’re being unusually agreeable today.” - “i’m being efficient“ you answer, echoing his earlier phrasing deliberately. his mouth curves faintly. “that’s my line.”- “you don’t own efficiency.”-“debatable“ he says lightly, though there’s less challenge in it than usual. you notice he’s still pale around the edges, the fatigue not fully masked. he reaches for his water bottle and winces almost imperceptibly at the movement. “you don’t have to pretend you’re fine“ you say before thinking it through. he pauses, bottle halfway to his mouth. “i’m not pretending.”-“you are a little“ you reply quietly. he studies you for a second longer than comfortable. “you’re observing a lot today.”-“i always observe“ you say. “yeah“ he says, and this time there’s no teasing in it. “you do.”  he looks back at the document, scrolling slowly. “i’m glad you adjusted it“ he adds after a moment. “i thought you might scrap the whole critique.”-“i considered it“ you admit. “but the inconsistency is measurable.”-“that’s not what i meant“ he says softly. you meet his gaze. he doesn’t elaborate. instead, he shifts back into familiar territory. “if this tanks our evaluation, i’m blaming you publicly“ he says with mock  seriousness. “you can try“ you reply evenly. “i’ll bring charts.” he laughs quietly at that, the sound easier than yesterday but still tired around the edges. “you’re terrifying.” - “i’ve heard that before“ you say. “yeah“ he answers, closing his laptop for a moment and leaning back. “you have.” there’s something in the way he says it that feels layered, but you don’t press. not today. for the rest of the session, you work without arguing. you refine phrasing. he challenges a statistic once, and instead of snapping back, you explain your reasoning fully. he nods and accepts it. when he suggests adjusting a conclusion line, you consider it instead of rejecting it immediately. when you both finally pack up, he hesitates before slinging his bag over his shoulder. “thanks“ he says casually, though his eyes hold yours for a beat longer than the word requires. “for what?” you ask. “for not letting me completely self-destruct after the party“ he replies, attempting a smirk that doesn’t quite land. “you didn’t“ you say calmly. “self-destruct, i mean.” he studies your face one last time, like he’s trying to decide whether to ask something else. then he nods once. “see you tomorrow.“- “don’t be late“ you say automatically. he almost smiles. “i’m never late.” this time, it doesn’t sound like a challenge. it sounds like a promise.

the café is too crowded for this to be accidental. eunchae insisted it would be “neutral territory“ which you suspect means she wanted both friend groups in the same room without anyone technically hosting. the long table near the windows is already half occupied when you arrive, voices overlapping in loose conversation. chaewon and sakura are seated side by side, kazuha across from them with her hands folded neatly around her drink. heeseung and jay are arguing about something sports-related near the end of the table while sunoo watches with theatrical disappointment. jungwon is standing, pulling out an extra chair. jake is already there. he’s leaning back slightly in his seat, one arm draped over the backrest, listening to niki complain about a professor with exaggerated betrayal. he looks relaxed. normal. entirely unbothered. you step toward the table and jungwon glances at you immediately. “you’re late“ he says, though there’s no accusation in it. “it’s been three minutes“ you reply, sliding into the empty chair between chaewon and sunoo. jake’s eyes lift at the sound of your voice. just briefly. then they settle back on niki. sunoo leans closer to you and says quietly, “you look less homicidal than usual.” - “i’m not homicidal“ you reply, placing your bag carefully at your feet. “that’s what homicidal people say“ he answers with satisfaction. across the table, jay gestures dramatically while saying, “all i’m saying is that if attendance isn’t graded, it’s optional“ and heeseung groans loudly in response. jake laughs at that, the sound easy and unforced. you glance at him reflexively. he’s not looking at jay. he’s looking at you. it’s subtle enough that no one else reacts. his gaze shifts away almost immediately when your eyes meet his, and he reaches for his drink as if that had been his intention all along. you look back at sunoo. he doesn’t say anything. he just lifts one eyebrow. the conversation shifts topics quickly, as it always does when this many competitive personalities share oxygen. sakura brings up the upcoming presentation schedule, and jungwon immediately says, “we should do a mock panel before the faculty review.”-“that’s excessive“ jay says, leaning back in his chair. “it’s preparation“ you correct automatically. jake glances at you again. this time it lingers a second longer. heeseung notices the shift in tone and grins faintly. “you two are going to turn this into a military operation“ he says. jake shrugs lightly and replies, “she already has.” you tilt your head. “you’re benefiting from it.” - “i’m aware“ he says, and there’s no teasing in it.

the table grows louder again as niki interrupts with a new story involving a disastrous lab partner, and attention splinters into smaller conversations. you find yourself explaining part of the methodology adjustment to kazuha, tracing imaginary bullet points on the table as you speak. “the distribution model wasn’t wrong“ you clarify. “it was just incomplete.” jake is no longer part of the main conversation. he’s quiet now. when you finish explaining, kazuha nods thoughtfully and says, “that sounds balanced.” -“it is“ you reply. from across the table, jake says, “it’s better than balanced“ his voice cutting through the noise just enough to reach you. “it’s structured.” you look at him. he’s just stating it. “that was the point“ you answer. he nods once, satisfied. niki, who has been half-listening while pretending not to, shifts in his seat and watches jake more carefully now. jake doesn’t notice. he’s too busy watching the way you gesture when you explain something, the way your hands move precisely even when you’re not holding notes. eunchae leans forward and asks you, “are you nervous about the faculty panel?” and you shake your head lightly before replying, “no. i’m prepared.” jake smiles faintly at that. but only niki catches it. the conversation splinters again, heeseung dragging jay into a debate about energy reform while sunghoon quietly corrects a statistic under his breath. in the middle of it, you reach for your drink at the same time jake does, your hands brushing lightly against the side of the cup. “sorry“ he says immediately, pulling his hand back. “it’s fine“ you reply, adjusting the cup. he doesn’t look away this time. he studies your face like he’s trying to reconcile something. you’re softer today. not less sharp. just… less guarded. more considerate. he doesn’t know why. niki leans back slowly in his chair, arms crossing as he observes the silent exchange. he waits until your attention shifts back to chaewon before leaning slightly toward jake and saying under his breath, “hyung, you’re staring.” jake blinks, genuinely confused. “i’m not“ he replies automatically. “you are“ niki says calmly, not accusatory, just factual. “it’s not even subtle.” jake scoffs lightly. “you’re dramatic.” niki tilts his head. “am i?” jake doesn’t answer. he looks back at you instinctively. you’re laughing at something sunoo said, head tilted slightly back, eyes bright in a way he doesn’t remember noticing before. niki watches the exact second jake forgets to look away. then he smiles slowly to himself. jake finally tears his gaze away and says, “shut up“ though niki hasn’t spoken again. “i didn’t say anything“ niki replies mildly. “you were thinking it“ jake mutters. “thinking what?” jungwon asks from further down the table. “nothing“ jake answers too quickly. niki lifts his cup and takes a slow sip, eyes still on jake. “sure“ he says softly.  jake lasts exactly four more minutes at the table before he pushes his chair back. “i’m getting another drink“ he says casually, though his cup is still half full. niki glances at it, then at him, but doesn’t comment immediately. jake steps away from the table and moves toward the back of the café where the restrooms are tucked past a narrow hallway.

the noise fades slightly as he pushes open the bathroom door and steps inside, bracing his hands briefly against the sink as if steadying something internal rather than physical. a second later, the door swings open again. jake doesn’t look up at the mirror when he says, “you’re predictable.” niki locks the door behind him and leans against it, folding his arms. “you left mid-conversation“ he replies lightly. “that’s suspicious.” jake turns on the faucet, letting the water run longer than necessary before splashing some onto his face. “it’s loud out there.”- “it’s always loud“ niki says calmly. “you don’t usually retreat.” jake shuts off the water and looks at his reflection instead of at niki. his expression is composed, but the crease between his brows hasn’t fully disappeared since this morning. “you’re reading into nothing.”-“i’m not reading“ niki replies. “i hate reading.” jake lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “you’re insufferable.”-“and you’re distracted“ niki counters easily. jake finally turns around, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “i’m not distracted.”-“you’re staring“ niki says, not unkindly. “and you don’t stare at people unless you’re trying to solve something.” jake hesitates for half a second before responding, “she’s acting different.” niki’s expression shifts slightly-not surprised, just interested. “different how?” jake looks back at the mirror briefly, as if checking the answer there. “quieter“ he says slowly. “not quieter in general. just with me.” niki waits. “she’s not snapping back as fast“ jake continues, running a hand through his hair. “she’s… softer. but not weak. just-” he exhales, frustrated with his own phrasing. “less defensive.”-“and that’s bothering you?” niki asks. jake frowns faintly. “it’s confusing me.” niki pushes off the door and steps closer, lowering his voice slightly even though they’re alone. “maybe she’s just comfortable.” jake shakes his head immediately. “no. she doesn’t get comfortable.” -“that’s dramatic“ niki says. “you know what i mean“ jake insists, jaw tightening slightly. “she’s always braced. even when she’s calm she’s braced. today she’s not.” niki studies him carefully. “you’re very observant for someone who claims he’s not staring.” jake ignores that. “i don’t know what changed.” niki tilts his head. “maybe you did.” jake lets out a quiet scoff. “i didn’t.” -“didn’t what?” niki presses. “do anything“ jake replies quickly. “i mean-i was drunk. but she said i didn’t embarrass myself.” niki watches him carefully at that. “you trust that?”-“yes“ jake says without hesitation. “interesting“ niki murmurs. jake straightens slightly. “what is that supposed to mean?” -“it means“ niki replies evenly, “that if she says you didn’t embarrass yourself, then you probably didn’t.”-“that’s not helpful“ jake mutters. niki shrugs lightly. “you’re not upset that she’s softer. you’re unsettled because you don’t know why.”

jake doesn’t answer immediately. niki continues, “you like predictability. especially with her. you know how she reacts. you know the rhythm.” jake looks at him sharply. “i don’t care about rhythm.“- “you absolutely do“ niki replies. “you debate like it’s choreography.” jake exhales slowly and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just-” he stops, searching for a word that doesn’t feel too revealing. “when she’s competitive, i know where i stand.” - “and now?” niki asks. jake looks down at the tile floor for a second before answering, “now i don’t.” the silence that follows is not heavy. it’s thoughtful. niki studies him with a familiarity that borders on surgical precision. “you’re not confused about her“ he says quietly. “you’re confused about yourself.” jake immediately shakes his head. “don’t start.” - “i’m not starting anything“ niki replies calmly. “i’m just saying- you don’t look at people like that unless something shifted.” jake’s jaw tightens. “nothing shifted.” niki raises an eyebrow. “then why did you leave the table?” jake doesn’t respond right away. he looks at the mirror again, at the faint flush still lingering from earlier embarrassment, at the way his expression is slightly less controlled than usual. “she was laughing“ he says finally, quieter. niki blinks. “okay?” - “she doesn’t laugh with me“ jake continues, almost to himself. “not like that.” -“and you wanted her to?” niki asks gently. jake hesitates. that’s the first real crack. “i don’t know“ he admits. niki’s expression softens just slightly. “you’re in trouble“ he says, though there’s no mockery in it this time. jake rolls his eyes automatically. “shut up.”-“i didn’t say anything dramatic“ niki replies. “i’m just making a note.” jake pushes off the counter and moves toward the door. “don’t.”-“don’t what?” niki asks. “turn this into something“ jake says firmly. niki opens the door and steps aside to let him pass. “i don’t have to“ he says quietly. “you’re doing that on your own.”

when jake and niki return, the conversation has split into two clusters. jungwon is sketching something on a napkin while explaining a policy framework to heeseung and jay, and at the other end of the table, sunghoon has shifted into the seat beside you while you’re mid-sentence. you don’t seem to notice the change in proximity. jake does. sunghoon is leaning slightly toward you, one arm resting casually along the back of your chair as you explain something about the faculty panel timeline. “if we anticipate the critique angle“ you’re saying calmly, tracing an invisible outline on the table, “we can preempt the statistical pushback before they even raise it.” sunghoon nods once and replies, “that’s efficient.” - “it’s actually very strategic“ you correct automatically, though there’s a faint smile in your voice. jake stops just short of his chair. it’s subtle -the pause. barely a second. then he pulls the chair out a little harder than necessary and sits down. niki notices. jake leans back, posture loose, expression neutral. he doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t insert himself into the conversation. he just listens. but his gaze keeps flicking toward sunghoon’s arm. sunghoon laughs quietly at something you add and says, “you think three steps ahead. that’s terrifying.“- “yeah, she’s always terrifying“ jake says lightly from across the table. you glance at him. sunghoon glances at him too. it all feels a bit awkward but jake smiles, easy and controlled. niki watches the exact way jake’s fingers tighten briefly around his cup. sunghoon shifts slightly closer without realizing it, lowering his voice as he asks you, “are you nervous at all?”-“no“ you reply. “i don’t get nervous.” jake’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. niki leans closer to him and murmurs under his breath, “you look thrilled.” jake doesn’t look at him. “i am“ he replies evenly. “your eye just twitched“ niki says mildly. -“it did not.” -niki takes a slow sip of his drink, still watching. “wow, you already hate when someone else gets her attention.” jake finally turns his head slightly. “that’s not what this is.”-“then what is it?” niki asks quietly. jake looks back across the table just in time to see sunghoon brush a crumb off your sleeve with absent ease. his grip tightens again. niki hums softly. “there it is.” jake exhales slowly through his nose. “he’s not-” he stops himself. “not what?” niki prompts, almost pleasantly. jake shakes his head once. “it’s nothing.” niki smiles faintly. “sure.” across the table, you laugh again -softer this time -and jake’s gaze drops to the table like he’s recalibrating something internally.

the dorm room smells faintly like instant ramen and laundry detergent that promises too much. jake falls down on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, phone facedown beside him like it personally offended him. niki is sprawled across the desk chair backward, arms folded over the backrest, while sunghoon leans against the wall near the window, quiet but very clearly listening. jake exhales slowly and says, “i’m not spiraling.” niki raises one eyebrow. “you said that unprompted.” sunghoon glances between them. “spiraling about what?” jake drags a hand down his face. “nothing.”- “that’s not how this works“ niki replies calmly. “you don’t get to call a team meeting and then say ‘nothing.’” -“i didn’t call a team meeting“ jake mutters. “you walked into the room, sat down dramatically, and sighed like a widow“ niki corrects. “that counts.” sunghoon suppresses a faint smile. “what happened?” jake leans back slightly, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written there. “y/n’s different.” sunghoon tilts his head. “different how?” jake hesitates before answering. “she’s not trying to kill me lately.” niki nods slowly. “tragic.“- “i’m serious“ jake insists, dropping his gaze back to them. “she’s… nicer. not obvious. just-quieter. softer. it’s weird.” sunghoon crosses his arms. “that doesn’t sound bad.”-“it’s confusing“ jake replies immediately. niki watches him carefully. “you prefer when she’s sharpening knives?”

---btw go stream enhypen’s “knife”---

“at least then i know what’s happening“ jake says. “there’s structure.” sunghoon blinks once. “you want hostility because it’s predictable.”-“i want consistency“ jake corrects. niki snorts softly. “you’re upset because she adjusted her tone.”-“i’m not upset“ jake says quickly. “i just think i’m overreacting.”-“overreacting to what?” sunghoon asks evenly. jake hesitates again. “today she was explaining the panel strategy to you“ he says, nodding vaguely in sunghoon’s direction. “she doesn’t explain things to me like that.” sunghoon frowns faintly. “you interrupt her.”-“that’s not the point.”-“it might be“ niki says. jake ignores him. “it was just… easy. she was laughing. relaxed. she doesn’t do that with me.” niki studies him for a second longer than comfortable. “you’re jealous.” jake’s head snaps toward him. “no.”-“you are“ niki repeats calmly. “i’m not jealous“ jake says firmly. “it was one conversation.” sunghoon shifts slightly, thoughtful. “you paused when you saw me sitting next to her.” jake looks at him like he’s been personally betrayed. “you noticed that?” sunghoon shrugs lightly. “you’re not subtle.”-“i am extremely subtle“ jake protests. niki lets out a quiet laugh. “you gripped your cup like it owed you money.” jake groans and drops his head briefly into his hands. “this is ridiculous.” sunghoon’s voice softens slightly. “you’ve been off since the party.” jake freezes for half a second. niki doesn’t look away from him. “that has nothing to do with this“ jake says too quickly. “doesn’t it?” niki asks. jake straightens slightly. “i was drunk. i cried. it’s humiliating. that’s all.” sunghoon’s expression doesn’t change. “you don’t cry.”-“apparently i do“ jake mutters. niki tilts his head. “you also don’t usually let her drive you home.” jake glares at him. “i wasn’t conscious enough to veto that.”-“that’s not what i meant“ niki replies evenly. the room grows quieter. sunghoon pushes off the wall and sits down on the edge of his own bed, elbows resting on his thighs. “you said you were happy you got paired“ he says carefully. jake looks at him sharply. “how do you-” -“you told me, also you talk when you’re drunk“ niki cuts in. jake stares at him. “what exactly did i say?” niki shrugs lightly. “enough.” jake exhales slowly, tension settling across his shoulders. “that’s not romantic“ he says defensively. “i respect her. that’s it.” - “no one said romantic“ sunghoon replies calmly. jake looks between them. “you’re both implying it.” -“we’re implying you’re reacting“ niki corrects. jake leans back again, staring at the ceiling. “she was just nice. one time. that’s probably it. i’m overanalyzing because it’s different.” sunghoon considers that. “or“ he says quietly, “you’re not used to her seeing you.” jake’s eyes flick back to him. “she’s always seen me.” -“not like that“ niki says.

jake swallows once. “like what?”-“like you’re human“ sunghoon answers simply. that lands harder than the teasing did. jake looks away first. “i don’t need her to see me“ he says after a moment, though it sounds less certain than he intends. niki leans back in the chair again. “you absolutely do.” jake exhales sharply. “you’re both insufferable.” sunghoon shrugs faintly. “you’re the one who’s bothered.”-“i’m not bothered“ jake insists. niki smirks slightly. “you’re threatened by kindness.” -“that’s not-” jake stops, frustrated. “she changed the rhythm.” sunghoon blinks. “you keep using that word.” -“because it fits“ jake snaps lightly. “when she argues, i know where to stand. when she’s calm, i don’t.” niki watches him closely. “so figure it out.” jake shakes his head. “it’s not that simple.”-“why?” sunghoon asks. jake hesitates. because if she’s not fighting him-then maybe she’s not just competing. and that’s harder to navigate. he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and mutters, “i think i just don’t like not knowing where i stand.” niki’s teasing expression softens slightly. “you could ask.” jake lets out a short laugh. “and say what? ‘hi, are you being emotionally strategic or is this genuine?’” sunghoon smiles faintly. “you’d phrase it worse.” jake throws a pillow in his direction without real force. “shut up.” niki stands up finally, stretching slightly. “you’re not overreacting“ he says more quietly now. “you’re just not in control.” jake looks at him sharply. “that’s new for you“ niki adds. jake doesn’t answer. because that part might be true. the room settles into silence, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. after a moment, jake mutters, “if this turns into something dramatic, i’m blaming both of you.” niki grins. “it’s already dramatic for you.”

professor kim’s office smells faintly like paper and burnt coffee, the kind that’s been reheated twice and forgotten on a desk stacked with journals. the walls are lined with framed policy certificates and annotated newspaper clippings, and the bookshelf behind him looks aggressively intellectual. you sit upright in one of the narrow chairs across from his desk, notebook already open on your lap. jake sits beside you, relaxed in posture but noticeably alert in the way his fingers rest lightly against his knee. professor kim adjusts his glasses and looks between the two of you before saying, “so. how is my top-ranked rivalry experiment functioning under forced collaboration?” you answer first, because you always do. “efficiently“ you reply evenly, folding your hands over your notebook. “we’ve refined the methodological critique and adjusted the distribution model to frame it as analytical rather than accusatory.” professor kim nods slowly. “and that was mutual agreement?” -“yes“ you say without hesitation. jake glances at you briefly, then adds, “we disagree loudly but productively.” professor kim smiles faintly at that. “i expected nothing less.” he leans back slightly in his chair and studies you both. “any major friction?” you consider the question carefully before answering. “not beyond normal structural debate.” jake tilts his head slightly at your phrasing but doesn’t interrupt. professor kim looks toward him now. “and you? how do you feel about the direction?” jake shrugs lightly. “it’s solid“ he says. “she integrated the critique cleanly.” you glance at him for half a second, surprised at the phrasing. professor kim nods again. “i’ve skimmed your shared draft. it’s ambitious.”- “we’re aware“ you reply. “i’d hope so“ he says dryly. “ambition without awareness is how departments implode.”

there’s a small pause while he flips through a printed version of your outline. “this comparative distribution section“ he says, tapping the paper lightly. “whose initiative?” you open your mouth to answer, but you stop. instead, you say calmly, “jake.., jake mapped the initial inconsistency.” jake’s head turns toward you immediately. professor kim looks at him with renewed interest. “you did?” jake hesitates for the briefest fraction of a second before nodding. “yes. the sample allocation didn’t align with the raw demographic breakdown.” professor kim hums thoughtfully. “and you“ he says, turning back to you, “chose to support it.”-“yes“ you answer. “the critique strengthens the argument.” jake is still looking at you. professor kim sets the paper down and folds his hands. “that’s good leadership“ he says, directing the comment at you. “backing your partner’s risk when it’s substantiated.” jake blinks. you remain composed. “it’s not about backing him. it’s about accuracy.” professor kim smiles faintly. “accuracy is rarely neutral.” jake’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. professor kim continues, “have there been any concerns about workload distribution?” you shake your head slightly. “no. jake has been doing great.” the words leave your mouth calmly. directly. jake freezes.professor kim nods approvingly. “that’s what i like to hear.” jake’s expression shifts from confusion to something sharper, something that doesn’t quite have a name yet. he clears his throat lightly and says, “i’ve been doing what’s necessary.” professor kim raises one eyebrow. “she said you‘re doing great.” jake glances at you again. you don’t react. you simply say, “he’s thorough.” jake straightens slightly in his chair. “she’s the one who restructures everything“ he says quickly. “i just point things out.” professor kim looks between you both. “that sounds like division of strengths.” jake nods once. “right. but i’ve handled the bulk of the statistical comparison.” you blink at him. professor kim glances at the document again. “joint authorship“ he says mildly. “yes“ you reply calmly. jake shifts slightly in his seat. “i mean, she polished it. but the framework-” - “was yours“ you finish for him, tone neutral. he looks at you again. professor kim studies the shift in tone with mild amusement. “are we competing in my office?” -“no“ you answer immediately. jake says at the same time, “not exactly.” professor kim leans back again, clearly entertained now. “i do enjoy watching this.” jake exhales lightly and runs a hand through his hair. “we’re aligned“ he says. “mostly.”-“mostly?” professor kim echoes. jake glances at you. “she overprepares.” you raise one eyebrow. “you understate.” professor kim laughs quietly. “there it is.” jake shifts again. “i’m just saying, if we’re discussing contributions, it’s not one-sided.” -“no one said that“ you say confused.

he studies your face carefully, as if looking for something beneath the calm surface. professor kim taps his pen lightly against the desk. “jake.” jake looks up. “why are you defensive?” the professor asks casually. jake blinks. “i’m not.” -“you are slightly“ professor kim replies. jake straightens. “i just don’t want her carrying the narrative that i needed support.” the room goes still for half a second. you look at him fully now. professor kim tilts his head slightly. “no one said that.” jake exhales slowly. “right.” you speak before the silence stretches too long. “you didn’t need support“ you say calmly. “you identified the inconsistency before i did.” jake’s gaze snaps back to you. professor kim looks pleased. “that’s collaboration.” jake’s expression softens for a split second-then something else replaces it. he leans forward slightly and says, “but she adjusted the conclusion angle before i would’ve.” you blink. professor kim blinks. jake continues, “i would’ve been more direct.” -“yes“ you reply slowly. “you would have.” professor kim looks between you both. “is this about tone?” jake nods. “it matters.” you tilt your head slightly. “you’re arguing with praise.”-“i’m not“ he says quickly. “i just think-”-“you think what?” professor kim prompts. jake pauses. you watch him carefully. he frowns slightly and says, “if she’s telling you i’ve been doing great, i want it to be precise.” professor kim looks genuinely amused now. “you’re objecting to positive feedback?” jake rubs the back of his neck. “i don’t like vague metrics.” you stare at him. professor kim laughs outright this time. “you two are impossible.” jake leans back again, posture stiffening slightly. “i’m not competing.”-“you are“ you say gently. he looks at you sharply. kim sets his pen down. “let me clarify something“ he says calmly. “if either of you underperforms, i will know. if either of you excels, i will also know. i do not require inter-office self-sabotage.” jake blinks. “i’m not sabotaging“ he says quickly. “you are arguing against being complimented“ professor kim replies. jake looks at you again. you are watching him with an expression he can’t quite read.not amused.not irritated. just… concerned. professor kim folds his hands again. “jake.” jake straightens slightly. “you are ranked first for a reason“ the professor says calmly. “but rankings are not personality traits.” jake’s jaw tightens faintly. “and“ professor kim continues, “neither is composure.” the air in the room shifts subtly. you glance at jake again. he doesn’t look at you this time. instead, he nods once and says, “understood.” professor kim’s tone lightens slightly. “good. now, are we done subtly fencing with each other, or would you like to duel in the hallway?” you almost smile. jake huffs out a quiet laugh despite himself. “we’re done.”- “for today“ you add. professor kim looks pleased. “that’s the spirit.” the meeting shifts back into structured discussion after that, but the energy has changed. jake speaks slightly more than usual. he corrects one minor statistical phrasing that doesn’t actually need correcting. he clarifies a citation you had already cited. it’s not aggressive. it’s just… awkwardly competitive. professor kim notices. so do you.

and when the meeting finally ends and you both step out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you-jake exhales sharply like he’s just run a mile. you turn toward him and say calmly, “what was that?” he frowns. “what was what?” -“you arguing against your own praise“ you reply. he looks away briefly. “i wasn’t arguing.” -“you were“ you say. he sighs. “i just don’t like it when things sound unearned.” you study him carefully. “it wasn’t unearned“ you say quietly. he doesn’t answer immediately. he nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. “it sounded like you were compensating.” the words hang there. you straighten slightly. “compensating?” - “for-” he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “for the other night.” you stare at him. “for driving me“ he clarifies quickly. “for-whatever i said.” your expression cools almost imperceptibly. “you think i praised you out of pity.” he winces faintly. “i didn’t say that.” he exhales again, frustrated. “i just don’t want you adjusting your tone because i had one bad night.”-“one bad night“ you repeat slowly. he nods. “i don’t need that.” you study him carefully now. “you think i changed how i work with you because you cried in my car.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t have to say it like that.”-“that’s what happened“ you reply evenly. he looks away again. there’s a small pause, then you say quietly, “i didn’t praise you because of that.” he doesn’t respond immediately. “you identified the inconsistency“ you continue. “you mapped the comparison model. that’s not charity.” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly unsettled. “it just felt… different.”-“different how?” you ask. “you’re not usually that…” he hesitates, searching for a word that won’t make this worse. “public about it.”-“i’m not usually asked directly“ you reply. he nods slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. “still.” -“still what?” he looks at you finally, and there’s something raw there -not dramatic, just unsteady. “you don’t have to soften things.” your expression changes at that. “you think that was soft?” -“it sounded-” he stops himself again. “it sounded careful.”-“i am always careful“ you say. “not like that“ he replies. there’s a beat of silence.

then you fold your arms lightly. “you’re upset because i supported you.”-“i’m not upset“ he insists. “you are.” he lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “this is exactly what i mean.” -“what do you mean?”-“you’re dissecting this like it’s a policy flaw“ he says. “and you’re reacting like i insulted you“ you counter. he rubs his temple briefly. “i just don’t want you treating me differently.”-“i’m not“ you say. “you are“ he replies immediately. you stare at him for a second longer than necessary. “you’re the one acting differently.” he opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. because that part is harder to deny. you adjust your bag again and say, “if you’d prefer i withhold credit next time, i can.” his head snaps toward you. “that’s not what i said.”-“it basically is“ you reply, your voice still controlled but noticeably cooler now. he shakes his head quickly. “no. i just-” he exhales sharply. “forget it.” you watch him carefully. “no. finish the sentence.” he hesitates. then, quieter, he says, “i don’t want you feeling responsible for me.” the hallway feels smaller. “i don’t“ you reply. “you drove me home“ he says. “because jungwon asked me to.” -“you stayed“ he continues. “not because of you?” you answer. he swallows once. “you listened.” you don’t deny that. “i don’t need you adjusting your behavior because of that“ he says. your jaw tightens slightly. “you think i’m adjusting?”- “yes.”-“then maybe you’re misreading it.” he looks at you sharply. “i supported your argument because it was strong“ you continue. “not because i felt sorry for you.” -“i didn’t say you felt sorry for me“ he mutters. “you didn’t have to.” he exhales slowly, clearly realizing this isn’t going the way he intended. “i’m not good at this“ he says finally. “at what?” you ask. he gestures vaguely again. “this,” you wait. “not knowing where i stand“ he finishes. the honesty catches you slightly off guard. “you stand where you always have“ you reply. “first?” he asks lightly, though it doesn’t quite sound like a joke. you don’t smile, and you’re so confused with what he’s saying. “no, as my partner.”, you say. he blinks. the word hangs heavier than it should.

he shifts again, clearly thrown off balance now. “right.” there’s an awkward pause. students pass at the end of the hallway, voices echoing faintly, but the space between you feels strangely insulated. he clears his throat. “i have to-” he gestures vaguely toward the stairwell. “i need to grab something from the dorm.” you look at him. “we were going to review the data update.“- “i’ll send comments later“ he replies quickly. you stare at him for half a second longer. “you’re so weird.”- “i’m not“ he says and gives you a tight, almost apologetic half-smile. “i just don’t want to work right now.” for a moment, it looks like he might stay. then he takes a step backward instead. “i’ll text you“ he says, already retreating. you watch him go. he walks down the hallway too quickly to look casual, one hand pushing open the stairwell door with more force than necessary. the door swings shut behind him with a dull echo. you remain standing there for a few seconds. then you exhale slowly. “unbelievable“ you mutter under your breath. maybe he’s right, maybe you do pity him. and somehow, that had turned into something fragile. you adjust your bag on your shoulder and start walking in the opposite direction, irritation simmering just beneath your calm exterior. if he wanted competition, you could give him that, but after the drive it would just feel wrong. you’re already pulling your phone out of your bag as you head toward the library. there’s no message from him, which you expected, and that annoys you more than if there had been something awkward waiting on the screen. you lock your phone and sit down at a table without hesitating, opening the shared document and scrolling straight to the risk section. you make three edits before your phone buzzes.

jake: i’ll review tonight.

you: send comments before midnight. i’m finalizing tomorrow morning. okay.

that’s it. no explanation. no acknowledgment of the hallway. just logistics. you work for another twenty minutes before another notification appears.

jake: you moved the risk paragraph?

you: yes. it reads stronger after the comparative section.

jake: it sounds like we’re accusing them.

you: we are.

jake: that’s not subtle.

you: subtlety created the inconsistency.

jake: you’re pushing harder than yesterday.

you: i’m being precise.

jake: whatever

the next morning he walks into the study room exactly on time, and when he sets his bag down beside the chair he says, “morning“ in a tone that is neutral enough to pass for casual. without looking up from your notebook, you answer, “morning“ keeping your voice even as you continue scanning the page. he sits across from you and opens his laptop, then glances at you briefly before saying, “i left comments on the framing“ as though announcing something procedural rather than provocative. you nod once and reply, “i saw“ still not lifting your eyes. his fingers hover over the keyboard before he adds, “you didn’t change them“ and you respond, “they didn’t need changing“ in the same steady cadence. leaning back slightly, he studies you and says, “it’s aggressive“ to which you reply, “no jake, it’s accurate“ finally meeting his gaze. he watches you for a second longer and remarks, “you’re back to stabbing“ and you answer evenly, “you apparently prefer that.” a faint, humorless curve touches his mouth as he says, “it’s familiar“ and you conclude, “then we’re aligned.” he exhales softly and shifts in his seat before saying, “you don’t have to swing that far“ and you counter, “i’m not swinging.” he tilts his head and insists, “you are“ then adds, “yesterday you were… different“ his pause deliberate. you close your laptop slowly before saying, “and you just left“ and he responds, “i needed space“ while holding your gaze. “you walked away“ you reply, your tone precise, and he looks at you directly now as he says, “you were looking at me like i’d cracked.” you remain calm as you answer, “you were talking nonsense“ then clarify, “not in a bad way.” his jaw tightens before he says, “i don’t need you adjusting because of one bad night“ and you respond, “i’m not adjusting.” he leans forward slightly and says, “you were softer“ and you reply, “and now i’m not“ before adding, “problem solved.” frustration flickers across his face as he says, “that’s not what i meant“ and you answer, “then clarify“ but he doesn’t. instead, he looks down at his screen and says, “let’s just focus on the data.”- “agreed“ you reply, reopening your laptop.

you work in silence for several minutes, the only sound the steady rhythm of typing, until he finally says without looking up, “you don’t have to pretend it didn’t matter“ his voice quieter now. you glance at him and ask, “pretend what didn’t matter?” and he answers, “the night.” you study him briefly before saying, “you don’t even remember it“ and he replies, “i remember enough.” tilting your head slightly, you ask, “do you?” and after a pause he admits, “i remember feeling stupid.”- “you weren’t“ you say, and when he looks at you more sharply, he mutters, “stop looking at me like that.” you hold his gaze and ask, “like what?” and he answers, “like you’ve decided something.”- “i have“ you say, watching him go still before he asks, “and?” you don’t hesitate as you tell him, “you’re not effortless“ then add, “you’re just controlled. like me.” he blinks once and says, “that’s worse“ a brief silence stretches between you before he says quietly, “you don’t pity me“ and you answer, “no.” he searches your face and asks, “you’re sure“ and you reply, “yes.” he nods once and says, “that’s inconvenient“ and although you almost smile, you don’t. instead, you reopen your laptop and say, “we still need to finalize the funding implications“ and he nods, returning to his typing as the air between you shifts into something unsettled but no longer hostile. after a while, he breaks the silence again by saying, “you don’t have to go back to competing just because i made it weird“ and you look up at him before replying, “i’m not competing.” he studies you and insists, “you are“ and you counter, “i’m working.” his eyes narrow slightly as he says, “you’re punishing me“ and you ask, “for what?” he holds your gaze and answers, “for walking away“ and you respond evenly, “if i wanted to punish you, you’d know.” he huffs out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh and says, “that’s reassuring“ and you reply, “i promise.” another stretch of silence follows before he says more quietly, “i didn’t think you’d… back me like that“ and you ask, “in the meeting?” he nods and says, “yeah“ and you answer simply, “you were right.” he shakes his head slightly and says, “that’s not why“ and when you remain silent, waiting, he murmurs, “forget it.” -“no“ you say firmly, adding, “finish“ and after hesitating he admits, “it didn’t feel strategic.” -“it wasn’t“ you reply, and he looks at you carefully before asking, “then what was it?” you pause before answering, “it was fair“ and he holds your gaze a second too long before looking away first. the rest of the session remains steady but tense, and when you finally pack up your things, you notice him watching you as he asks, “you’re not going to say it?” adjusting the strap of your bag, you reply, “say what?” and he says, “that you’re still annoyed.” you adjust your bag more firmly on your shoulder and say, “you’re weird“ and he responds, “i’m not.” -“you are“ you insist, and he gives you that tight half-smile before saying, “i just don’t feel like working anymore.” you shake your head slightly and tell him, “that’s not what this is“ and he asks, “then what is it?” after a brief pause, you answer, “you don’t like not knowing where you stand“ and he goes quiet. you hold his gaze and add, “and i don’t like being misunderstood“ and he looks like he might say something else. instead, he nods once and says, “i’ll send the revised funding draft tonight.” -“i’ll review it“ you reply, and this time you walk out first.

the ranking board goes up at 9:03 a.m., not 9:00 and not 9:05 but 9:03, as if the department enjoys suspense, and by 9:04 the hallway outside the faculty office is packed with bodies pressing forward in anticipation. you did not plan to come this early and you definitely did not plan to stand this close to the board, but eunchae dragged you here under the excuse of “emotional support“ and now you are wedged between jungwon and chaewon while jay stretches on his toes trying to see over everyone’s shoulders. from somewhere behind you, sunoo complains, “move. i can’t breathe and i refuse to faint before seeing my academic downfall“ and kazuha answers calmly, “it’s alphabetical. no one is fainting“ while niki mutters, “speak for yourself.” you do not speak. you do not breathe. you just scan, your eyes moving automatically to the top where the numbers settle into focus.

rank 1: l/n y/n - 4.98.

for half a second your brain refuses to process it, and then eunchae grabs your arm and says, “you moved up“ already grinning as you blink and reply, “by one decimal.” chaewon leans closer to the board and says, “that’s not the point. you moved up“ and somewhere behind you jay whistles and adds, “of course she did. unreal.” you do not look at them. you look down one line instead.

rank 2: sim jaeyun - 4.97.

your stomach tightens in a way that feels strangely wrong because he dropped, not dramatically and not catastrophically but by one decimal, and it is enough. “whoa“ niki says softly, and a subtle shift moves through the crowd, the kind that happens when something unexpected but not explosive occurs as heads turn and whispers travel quickly. you do not turn immediately because you know he is here and you can feel it, standing slightly behind jungwon, close enough to see but far enough not to be at the center of the cluster. jay is the first to say it out loud when he mutters, “that’s brutal“ though he does not sound entirely sympathetic, and heeseung replies, “it’s one decimal. relax“ while niki adds lightly, “yeah. it’s not like he dropped to fifth.” you finally turn and find jake looking at the board as if he is analyzing a case study, not reacting and not smiling, just reading. sunghoon glances at him carefully and asks, “you good?” and jake nods once before replying easily, “yeah. it’s mid-semester. it shifts.” his tone is smooth and controlled and practiced, and you recognize it instantly when he continues, almost amused, “it’s literally nothing. statistical fluctuation.” niki snorts and says, “you sound like you’re narrating your own decline“ and jake answers lightly, “i’m not declining. i dropped by one decimal“ while jay adds, “and she moved up by one.” jake’s gaze flicks to you then, brief and measured, and he says, “congrats“ the word clean with no sarcasm and no edge, and you reply, “thanks.” it should feel like victory. it kinda does, but somehow also does not. eunchae squeezes your shoulder and whispers, “you did it“ and you nod faintly as the group begins to disperse into smaller clusters, some debating what caused the shift and others laughing it off while the tension dissolves into regular campus noise. jake does not move right away. he stands there a second longer than necessary before shrugging once and saying, “guess i’ll try harder“ and it’s a joke and it’s not. niki watches him closely and says, “you don’t have to“ and jake gives him a look before replying, “i’m fine.” you hate how quickly he says it, and before you can overthink it you step closer and say, “it’s one decimal“ and he glances at you and answers, “i know.” you add, “it doesn’t define anything“ and he smiles faintly before replying, “i’m aware“ but there is something too polished about the exchange and too tidy. sunoo leans toward you and murmurs, “this is awkward“ and you whisper back, “shut up.” jake runs a hand through his hair, posture relaxed but eyes sharper than usual, and says, “we still have the funding review next week. that matters more“ and jungwon nods as jake continues, “rankings fluctuate. the project doesn’t.” he is performing calm. you can see it, and everyone else definitely can too.

as the group drifts toward the café while still dissecting the ranking system like it is a sport, with jay arguing that decimals are “psychological warfare” and sunoo dramatically claiming he deserves emotional compensation, jake walks beside you not too close and not distant either, just slightly off, and says quietly without looking at you, “you earned it.” you glance at him and reply, “so did you“ and he huffs a faint laugh before saying, “apparently not enough.” you tell him, “that’s not how this works“ and he shrugs as he says, “it is, though“ and there is no bitterness in his voice, which makes it worse. when you reach the café, everyone orders something unnecessarily complicated except him. he orders black coffee. niki immediately says, “you absolutely hate black coffee?” and jake shrugs before replying, “it’s efficient“ and niki counters, “it sounds like punishment“ while jake smiles slightly and says, “i need to study late tonight.” you watch him take the first sip and he does not flinch, and you hate that you notice that. the conversation shifts to presentation deadlines and midterms and someone’s lab disaster, and jake laughs at the right moments and contributes normally, he even teases sunoo once, but you keep catching him staring at nothing for half a second too long before snapping back. when jay says, “at least you’re still second“ jake replies smoothly, “second is stable“ and takes another sip of the coffee he obviously does not like, making your stomach twists. for the first time in years, you do not feel triumphant. you feel unsettled. you lean slightly closer to him and say quietly, “it’s temporary“ and he glances at you with one eyebrow lifting before replying, “so is yours.” you shake your head and say, “that’s not what i meant“ and he answers, “i know“ with no hostility, just restraint. eunchae suddenly claps her hands and says, “we should celebrate“ and everyone groans except sunoo, who says, “yes. i demand cake“ while jake shakes his head lightly and says, “yes, let’s celebrate her.” jungwon replies, “we can celebrate you both“ and jake answers casually, “there’s nothing to celebrate for me“ and when you look at him sharply he catches it and adds, “i’m joking“ but you do not think he is.

for years this has been the dynamic. he wins. you chase. you narrow the gap. now the gap has shifted, and instead of relief you feel like something tilted that was not supposed to.

when the group starts planning the weekend in loud overlapping suggestions, jake steps slightly back from the circle, just half a step and subtle enough that most would miss it, but you see it, and for the first time being first does not feel like victory. it feels like distance. then he checks his phone, his expression flattening for half a second before he pushes back his chair and stands. “i have a thing“ he says casually as he slides his phone into his pocket, and niki replies over the rim of his cup, “you always have a thing.” jake shrugs into his jacket and says, “it’s a busy life“ which makes jay roll his eyes and answer, “you’re second, not unemployed.” jake smirks faintly and says, “exactly. i have standards to maintain“ and you just can’t laugh. you watch him grab his bag, tracking the efficiency of the movement, until eunchae looks up and asks, “you’re leaving?” and he replies, “yeah. i’ll see you later.” there is no pause and no glance in your direction this time. he just walks out, the door swinging shut behind him. you sit there for three full seconds before standing and saying, “i’ll be back“ and sunoo immediately asks, “are you chasing him?” you answer too quickly with, “no“ and niki mutters into his coffee, “yes, you are“ but you ignore them and step outside. jake has not gone far. he is standing near the side entrance, staring at his phone like it personally insulted him, and when he hears the door open he looks up and asks, “you forgot something?” -“yes“ you say, and he waits, one eyebrow lifting slightly as you walk closer and tell him, “you’re not fine.” he exhales through his nose and says, “i am“ and when you reply, “you’re not“ he answers flatly, “it’s one decimal. you don’t need to manage my emotional stability.” you shake your head and say, “i’m not managing you“ and he counters, “you’re hovering.” you blink and say, “i’m standing“ and he replies, “same difference.” crossing your arms, you tell him, “you’re acting weird“ and he says, “i’m not.”he laughs quietly before adding, “that’s rich.” when you ask, “why?” he answers, “because you win and then you chase me outside to make sure i’m okay“ and there is something sharper under the humor now as he adds, “it’s unnecessary.” you feel that land but keep your voice steady as you say, “it’s not about winning“ and he replies, “sure.” -“it isn’t“ you insist, and he says your name more quietly, “y/n, i dropped by one decimal. that’s not a breakdown.” -“i know“ you say, and he responds, “then stop looking at me like it is.” you hesitate just long enough for him to notice, and he says, “that’s what i thought.” your jaw tightens and you tell him, “you’re allowed to be bothered“ but he answers immediately, “i’m not bothered.” -“but i know you are“ you press, and he steps back slightly, creating space as he asks, “why do you need me to be?” the question catches you off guard and you say, “i don’t“ and he replies, “then let it go.” you study him, taking in the too-straight posture and the tightness in his jaw before saying quietly, “you don’t have to pretend“ and he laughs again, thinner this time, as he says, “i’m not pretending.”- “you hate losing“ you say, and he answers, “i didn’t lose.”- “you moved“ you counter, and he shoots back, “so did you. congratulations“ the word not bitter but not soft either. you swallow and say, “this wasn’t supposed to be like this“ and he raises an eyebrow as he asks, “like what?” -“you behind me“ you admit, and his eyes sharpen as he repeats, “behind you?” -“that’s not what i meant“ you say quickly, but he answers, “it’s exactly what you meant.” you stop yourself mid-sentence and then say instead, “it feels off“ and he looks at you for a long second before admitting quietly, “yeah. it kinda does.”

the honesty slips out unintentionally, and you soften without meaning to as you say, “it’s temporary.” he exhales and says, “you don’t know that“ and you reply, “you’ll move back up.” he gives you a look you cannot quite read and asks, “and if i don’t?”- “you probably will“ you insist. “you sound very confident in me“ he says, and you answer, “i am“ watching something flicker in his expression before it closes again. “that’s the problem“ he says, and you frown as you ask, “what does that mean?” he answers slowly, “it means you don’t need to reassure me.” -“i’m not reassuring you“ you say, and he replies, “you are.” when you start with, “jake-” he cuts you off more sharply than before and says, “i’m fine. i don’t need a motivational speech.” -“it’s not a speech“ you argue. “it feels like one“ he says. you stare at him and ask, “why are you mad at me?” and he answers, “i’m not mad.” -“you’re snapping“ you say. “i’m not snapping“ he insists and runs a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through as he says, “i don’t need you calibrating your tone because i dropped a decimal.”- “i’m not calibrating anything“ you reply, and he says, “you are. you’ve been different since the party.” -“that has nothing to do with this“ you answer, and he counters, “it has everything to do with this.” you go quiet, and he notices as he says, “you don’t get it.” -“then explain“ you tell him, and after hesitating he says lower, “it’s easier when you’re chasing.” you blink and ask, “what?” and he repeats, “it’s easier when i’m ahead“ before adding, “because then i know what i am to you.” the words hang between you, and you ask quietly, “and what are you to me?” he looks at you like he did not expect the question and answers, “competition.” the word feels wrong in the space between you. “and if you’re not ahead?” you ask, and his jaw tightens as he says, “i don’t know“ the honesty slipping out before he can stop it. you step closer and say, “it doesn’t change anything“ but he answers immediately, “it does.” -“how?” you press, and he looks away as he says, “you don’t see it.” - “then tell me“ you say, and he shakes his head once and answers, “no.”- “why?” you ask. “because i don’t want to overreact to something that isn’t even real“ he says. “what isn’t real?” you ask, and he looks at you with something raw flashing across his expression before he gestures vaguely between you and says, “this. whatever this is.” your pulse stumbles and you say, “what? there is no this“ and he lets out a short laugh as he replies, “exactly.” silence stretches between you until he straightens, control sliding back into place like armor, and says again, “it’s fine. i just need to work harder.” - “that’s not the solution“ you say. “it usually is“ he replies. “you don’t need to punish yourself“ you tell him. “i’m not punishing myself“ he answers. “you ordered black coffee“ you point out. “that’s not a crime“ he says. “but you hate black coffee“ you remind him, and he almost smiles as he says, “you care too much.” - “and you deflect too much“ you reply.

he exhales slowly before saying, “i don’t want you feeling responsible for my ranking.” - “i don’t“ you insist. and he studies you carefully before saying, “then stop trying to fix it.” you freeze and say quietly, “i’m not trying to fix anything“ and he nods once as he says, “good.” after a pause he adds more softly, “you should be happy“ and you stare at him as you say, “i am.”- “are you though?” he asks, and the question hits harder than you expect. you hesitate, and he sees it as he says quietly, “see?” you look away for the first time and admit, “it just doesn’t feel right.” - “why?” he asks. “because it feels like i stepped forward and you stepped back“ you say, and he nods slowly as he replies, “that’s how rankings work.” - “that’s not what i mean“ you say, and he knows it but does not want to say it. after a moment he tells you, “you don’t have to chase me“ and you answer, “i’m not chasing you.” - “you are right now“ he says. you exhale sharply and say, “you left“ and he replies, “and you followed“ the words sitting heavy between you. you hold his gaze and say again, “i don’t pity you“ and he nods as he answers, “i know.” - “then why are you acting like i do?” you ask, and after hesitating he says almost under his breath, “because it’s easier than the alternative.” - “what alternative?” you press, and he meets your eyes and for a second almost says it, but then his expression hardens and he says, “it’s nothing.” you feel the wall go up as he steps back and says, “i’ll see you tomorrow.” - “jaeyun-” you start, “don‘t.“, his voice cuts you sharp. “don’t call me that.” it comes out quick, almost harsh. you catch yourself. “jake.” a beat. “what’s going on with you?”- “i’m fine“ and this time it sounds less like reassurance and more like a boundary. “just-… just leave me alone y/n“ he walks away before you can stop him, and you stand there watching him go again.

by the time his dorm room goes quiet, jake tells himself it’s one decimal. he tells himself it’s mid-semester. he tells himself the ranking board is a temporary snapshot and not a verdict. he tells himself a lot of things, because if he doesn’t keep repeating them, his brain starts doing what it always does when something slips. it starts forecasting the worst outcome like it’s preparing a case file. the worst outcome is not “second place“ not really. the worst outcome is being seen as someone who can be beaten, someone who can be surpassed, someone who can be caught and left behind, because jake has lived long enough in rooms where praise turns to disappointment the moment you stop being exceptional. he hasn’t been allowed to be average. he hasn’t been allowed to be “fine.” fine is what people say right before they stop looking at you. he sits on the edge of his bed with his laptop open, the ranking board still there on the screen like it’s nailed to his wall. 4.97. the number should not matter this much. it is a decimal, a rounding error, a meaningless fluctuation in a system that loves to pretend it can quantify human effort. but his body doesn’t treat it like a decimal. his body treats it like threat. his chest is tight, his throat feels strange, his eyes burn in a way that makes him blink too hard and stare too long at the screen like he can intimidate it into changing. he isn’t crying, he tells himself. he’s just tired. his eyes are just irritated. he’s been staring at the screen too long. “that’s all“ he adds under his breath, like saying it aloud will make his body believe him, and he still doesn’t close the tab, because if he closes it, it becomes real. it becomes something he can’t monitor. the overhead light is off. he doesn’t remember turning it off. the desk lamp makes the room feel smaller, like a box, and he is used to boxes because boxes are controllable and boxes are predictable and boxes have rules. he can win inside boxes. the problem is that his life keeps getting bigger, the expectations keep expanding, and the rules keep changing without warning, and every time they change, he has to run faster just to keep the same ground.

the door opens without warning, and niki walks in first, tossing his bag onto the desk as he looks around and asks, “why is it so dark. are we having a grief ceremony“ while jake doesn’t look up and answers, “the overhead light is annoying.” sunghoon steps in behind him and shuts the door quietly, taking one look at jake and pausing, because sunghoon doesn’t joke first when something is off, but niki does as he says, “if you’re brooding about the ranking, i’m filing a complaint. it’s literally mid-semester.”- “i’m not brooding“ jake replies, and the flatness of his voice is the first tell that he is, which makes niki freeze mid-motion and stare at him as he says, “you’re sitting in the dark staring at your laptop like it owes you money.”- “i’m studying“ jake says, and niki counters immediately with, “you’re not typing“ until jake finally looks up, eyes sharper than they should be for this conversation, and says, “can you not.” niki pauses, then his gaze flicks to the laptop screen and he says more quietly, “oh. you have the page open“ and jake moves a hand as if to shut it, but he hesitates for half a second too long, and that hesitation is not about the laptop. it’s about the feeling that if he closes it, he’s admitting it matters. sunghoon’s voice is calm when he says, “it’s not about the decimal“ and jake’s jaw tightens instantly as he replies, “it is.” - “it isn’t“ sunghoon repeats evenly, and jake’s laugh comes out sharp and short as he says, “you don’t get to tell me what i’m feeling“ while sunghoon answers, “i’m not telling you. i’m noticing.” niki drags his chair around and sits backward in it, arms folded across the backrest, and says, “you don’t react like this to grades“ watching jake carefully. “i’m not reacting“ jake insists, and niki points out again, like he’s building a case, “you’re in the dark“ until jake’s fingers curl at his sides and he says, “can we drop it.” niki’s gaze stays on him as he asks, “did you two fight?“ and jake’s head snaps up as he says, “what?“ while niki clarifies, “you and y/n. you left weird. she came back weird. and now you’re sitting here like your soul got audited.” jake looks away immediately, because if he looks at them too long he’ll give something away, and he says, “we didn’t fight“ but niki insists, “you did something“ and jake answers, “i didn’t“ until sunghoon’s voice goes quieter and he says, “you snapped“ and jake’s shoulders stiffen. niki’s eyebrows lift slowly as he says, “you snapped at her?” and jake mutters, “i didn’t snap“ the denial sounding like a reflex, like something he learned a long time ago, but sunghoon says, “you kind of did. outside the café“ and jake’s eyes lift sharply as he asks, “you heard that?“ while sunghoon answers, “you weren’t subtle.” jake swallows, and his throat feels tight again, because he remembers your face when he said it, remembers the way your eyes sharpened and then cooled, remembers the instant you stopped offering softness like it was something you could put away in a drawer and lock, and when he starts with, “she kept trying to-“ he stops, hands clenching because even he can hear how pathetic he’s about to sound. niki prompts, gentler but still persistent, “trying to what“ and jake says finally, “fix it“ and when sunghoon asks, “fix what“ jake’s mouth goes dry because he doesn’t want to say it and he doesn’t want to name it because naming it makes it real, but the word slips out anyway, rough and small. “me“ he says.

niki’s expression shifts like something in him softens and then hardens in the same breath as he replies, “she wasn’t trying to fix you“ and jake says too fast, “you weren’t there“ but niki answers, “we were ten feet away“ and jake pushes on, voice sharpening as if he’s arguing a point in debate because arguing is easier than admitting he liked it. “she followed me“ he says. “she came outside like i was- like i couldn’t handle it“ and sunghoon’s eyes stay steady as he replies, “or she came outside because she noticed“ which makes jake laugh once, humorless, as he asks, “noticed what“ and sunghoon answers, “that you were not fine.” jake’s chest tightens at the phrase, not fine, the worst label, the one that means you’re slipping, and he insists, “i was fine“ but niki doesn’t buy it as he says, “you keep saying that.” jake turns toward the window as if the glass can give him distance and make his body stop reacting, pressing his palm to the back of his neck as he exhales hard and says, “it’s stupid“ but niki answers, “try us“ and jake stares at the curtain seam, jaw clenched, before admitting quietly, “she looked at me like she.., i don’t know- saw something.” the room goes still, and niki tilts his head and asks, “saw what?“ and jake snaps, sharper than he intended, “i don’t know. that’s the point“ because he hates not knowing and he hates being uncertain and he hates not being able to categorize a situation, because uncertainty is where failure grows. sunghoon doesn’t flinch as he says, “you don’t like being seen“ and jake scoffs, “that’s not-“ but sunghoon continues, calm as a judge, “you don’t. not when you can’t control what they see“ and jake’s throat tightens because he wants to deny it and laugh it off and make it a joke and escape, but his eyes burn again, and this time the wetness is real, and it makes him furious because he has spent years proving he doesn’t break. niki’s voice drops, less teasing now, as he says, “it’s not about losing first“ like he’s naming a thing jake refuses to name, and jake swallows hard and answers, “it is.” but niki continues, “it’s about what happens if you’re not first. what it means“ and jake’s laugh comes out jagged as he says, “it means i’m second“ while niki replies, “it means people stop expecting you to be perfect.”

jake’s jaw tightens like a trap as he says, “people never stop expecting“ and the truth slips out before he can guard it. sunghoon watches him and says, “there it is“ and jake turns back fast, eyes sharp, as he says, “don’t.” but niki doesn’t look away as he says, “you act like you can’t afford to slip“ and jake’s chest tightens harder because he can’t. he can’t afford it. he has built his entire safety on performance, not emotional safety, actual safety, stability, respect. the kind of doors that open when you’re the best and close when you’re merely good, and being “good” is a cliff edge in his mind. he doesn’t tell them that, but his silence does. “it was predictable before“ jake says instead, because predictable sounds reasonable and fear sounds pathetic. “it was structured“ and sunghoon asks, “and now?” and jake’s voice goes lower as he admits, “now she’s first.” niki’s eyebrows lift as he says, “and you’re second?” and jake’s fingers flex as he insists, “it shouldn’t matter“ but sunghoon answers softly, “yet it does” and jake exhales slowly as he says, “i don’t like how it changes things.” niki presses, “how does it change things?” and jake opens his mouth and nothing comes out, because he doesn’t know how to explain that the chase was a script he understood, and without the script he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be, and he can’t say that without sounding like he’s admitting he needs you to keep him sharp, needs you to keep him defined, needs the tension to keep him from dissolving into whatever he is without competition. “i shouldn’t have snapped“ he says instead, because guilt is easier to admit than fear, and niki nods once as he replies, “no. you shouldn’t have“ while jake’s voice cracks slightly when he says, “she wasn’t even wrong.” sunghoon’s expression softens faintly as he says, “she was trying to be decent“ and jake looks down, hands clenched again, as he admits, “i made it sound like she was pitying me“ and niki’s voice is blunt when he says, “because you were embarrassed.” jake swallows and says, “i hate that i did that“ and that is the truth, not the decimal and not the ranking but the fact that you followed him and tried to steady him and he threw it back at you like it was an insult. and he doesn’t say that the look on your face keeps replaying. and he doesn’t say it’s easier to take a hit from anyone else than to see disappointment in your eyes. because he doesn’t know why, he just knows. niki pushes off the chair and stands as he says, “then fix it“ and jake looks up and tries, “it wasn’t that bad“ but sunghoon’s voice is quiet and firm when he says, “you’re in the dark. it was that bad“ and jake rubs his face hard before asking, “what if she doesn’t want to see me.” niki pauses like the question actually surprises him and asks, “since when do you care about that“ and jake’s jaw tightens as he says, “i don’t?” but niki lifts an eyebrow and replies, “you literally just asked“ making jake look away. sunghoon’s voice lands steady as he says, “it’ll be alright, she followed you.” and that hits because you did. you didn’t have to. jake’s phone sits on the desk and he hasn’t touched it, because he has been sitting here trying to will his nerves into obedience and he can’t, and when he admits quietly, “i don’t know what to say“ niki shrugs and says, “start with ‘i was an idiot’” which makes jake shoot him a look as he says, “i’m not saying that“ while sunghoon’s mouth curves faintly as he replies, “but you were.” jake huffs a breath that almost becomes a laugh and fails, then grabs his jacket like grabbing something physical will stop his thoughts from spinning as he mutters, “i’ll be back“ and niki’s grin is small but real when he says, “look at that. functional human behavior“ while jake answers automatically, “shut up“ but the bite isn’t there.

he leaves before they can push further, and the hallway outside is loud with dorm life, doors opening and voices echoing and someone arguing on the phone, but jake feels like he’s moving through it underwater. his pulse is too loud. his hands feel too cold. he tells himself this is not a big deal. he tells himself this is basic decency. he tells himself this has nothing to do with anything else, even as the truth he refuses to name stays simple underneath it all. he is terrified of being the kind of person who loses control and then loses respect, and right now he feels dangerously close to that line.

by the time he reaches your dorm building, he slows, not because he’s afraid you’ll reject him, because his brain hasn’t even allowed that category to form, but because he’s afraid you’ll look at him the way you did in the café, like he’s slipping and like he’s not what he pretends to be and like you can see the fear he can’t say out loud. he stands outside the entrance for a full ten seconds anyway, then he steps inside, and for the first time all day he doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t give himself time to reconsider, and by the time he reaches your dorm floor his pulse is loud enough that it annoys him, because it’s just a conversation and it’s just an apology and he’s had harder ones. he knocks once, then again because the first one felt too light, and after movement inside and a brief pause the door opens to you standing there in an oversized sweatshirt with your hair slightly messy like you’ve run your hands through it too many times, your eyes blinking when you see him as you say, “jake?” and for half a second he forgets what he rehearsed before managing, “hey” his voice steadier than he feels as he adds, “can you step outside for a minute.” you study him like you’re searching his face for tension or sarcasm or something sharp and finding none, and then you say, “yes, sure” stepping out and closing the door behind you quietly. the hallway feels too narrow, and without thinking he gestures toward the exit and says, “let’s go downstairs“ and you don’t question it, you just follow.

outside, the night air hits differently, cooler and softer, and the campus is quieter than it was earlier with most windows lit but distant, streetlights lining the pathway in long golden stretches and casting slow pools of light over the pavement. you both walk a few steps in silence before he stops near the edge of the courtyard and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, then says, “i shouldn’t have snapped at you“ and you blink as he keeps his gaze away and adds, “outside the café. i was being-“ he hesitates, “unfair.” you wait, and he exhales slowly before saying, “you weren’t pitying me.”- “no.” you reply quietly. “i know now” he says, and there’s something tight in the way he says it, like the admission costs him, which makes you tilt your head slightly and ask, “then why’d you act like i was?” he finally looks at you, and the streetlight above throws soft gold across your face and catches in your eyes in a way that makes them look brighter than usual, almost reflective, and for a second he notices the light more than your expression, the thought strangely specific and unsettling in a way he doesn’t have language for. instead of answering directly, he says, “i don’t like when things shift“ and you frown faintly as you ask, “shift how?“ and he replies quickly, almost too quickly, “the ranking. it’s just. different.”- “it’s one decimal” you say gently. “i know“ he answers. “you act like it’s more” you say, and he replies immediately, “it’s not“ but you keep watching him and ask, “then what is it?” and he hesitates, because he’s not going to say fear and he’s not going to say pressure and he’s definitely not going to say that this morning he felt like he was slipping out of the version of himself everyone expects. “it’s just annoying“ he says finally. “i don’t like dropping.” you cross your arms lightly and say, “no one likes dropping“ and he answers, “i’ll move back up“ a hint of edge in his tone, pride and defense threaded together as he adds, “it’s not permanent.” - “i didn’t say it was“ you reply, and he looks at you again as the light shifts with a breeze moving through the trees, the reflection in your eyes flickering in a way he finds distracting for reasons he can’t explain. you don’t look triumphant or smug. you look careful. “i’m not celebrating you losing“ you say quietly. “i know“ he replies, and you continue, “you think i feel good about it.”-  “i don’t“ he says. “you did earlier“ you counter, and he winces slightly as he admits, “i was being an idiot.” you almost smile and say, “you said that, not me“ and he huffs out a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh as he says, “yeah. well. i meant it.” silence settles between you again, but it’s softer now and less sharp, and you glance toward the path stretching across campus where a few students pass in the distance with voices low and indistinct, the air smelling faintly like rain even though it hasn’t rained. “you don’t have to pretend you’re not bothered“ you say, and he replies, “i’m not pretending.” - “you are“ you insist, and he looks at you again, frustration flickering because lately you see through him too easily, and before he can stop himself he says, “i don’t get to be bothered.” you blink and ask, “what’s that supposed to mean?” and he shrugs like it should be obvious as he says, “it means it’s mid-semester. i’ll fix it.” - “that’s not what i asked.” you reply. he exhales slowly and says, “it’s not a big deal.” - “yeah, you keep saying that“ you point out. “because it’s true“ he answers.

you step a little closer without thinking, not confrontational, just closer, and you ask quietly, “then why’re you here“ and the question catches him because he didn’t expect it. he looks at you. really looks at you this time. and the streetlight glow softens the edges of everything, your expression and the tension in your shoulders and even the night itself, and he says, “because i don’t like leaving things like that.” - “like what?“ you ask. “unresolved“ he answers, and you search his face as you say, “you think we’re unresolved?” and he hesitates before admitting, “maybe.” you look away for a second, then back at him, and you say, “you’re not replaceable, you know“ and he stiffens slightly as he replies, “i didn’t say i was“ but you answer, “you don’t have to“ and he swallows. you step back slightly to give him space again as you say, “i didn’t move up because you moved down. those aren’t connected“ and he replies quickly, “i know.” - “you’re acting like they are“ you say, and he runs a hand through his hair as he admits, “it just feels different.” you nod slowly and say, “yeah“ and when he glances at you and asks, “yeah“ you repeat, “yeah. it does“ and that surprises him, because he expected you to argue or rationalize, and instead you just agree. “it’s weird“ you continue. “i’ve been chasing you for three years“ and he lets out a faint breath as he says, “you make it sound like a sport.” - “it was“ you reply. he almost smiles and says, “you’re competitive“ and you answer, “so are you“ and he doesn’t deny it. the silence between you shifts again, not empty and not tense, just full, and he notices the way the light moves in your eyes when you blink like it’s caught there intentionally, and he doesn’t know why that detail sticks or why he catalogues things like that about you, he just does. “you deserved it“ he says quietly, and you look at him and ask, “what?” and he clarifies, “the move up. you deserved it“ and your expression softens almost imperceptibly as you say, “thanks“ and he nods once. “i’m not going anywhere“ he adds quickly, like he has to reestablish something, and you reply, “i didn’t think you were“ but he says, “i mean academically-“ and you raise an eyebrow slightly as you answer, “yeah, i know what you meant” and he pauses because he doesn’t know if you do.

the breeze shifts again, and the campus feels strangely intimate with warm lights and quiet paths and distant familiar buildings, the kind of night that makes everything feel closer than it actually is, and suddenly he says, “you don’t have to catch me.” you blink and ask, “what “ and he hesitates before shrugging like it’s nothing as he says, “you don’t have to chase“ and you stare at him for a long moment before saying quietly, “i wasn’t chasing because i had to“ and that lands somewhere deep in him even if he can’t name where. he nods slowly, and neither of you move and neither of you step closer, but the air feels different now, softer, and neither of you knows exactly why. close enough that he can see the way your breath fogs faintly in the cool air. close enough that the streetlight above you casts gold along the curve of your cheek. close enough that he notices the tiny flicker in your eyes when you blink. he shouldn’t notice that. he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about it. you say quietly, “you’re not falling behind“ and he swallows before replying, “i know“ though the word comes out rougher than he means it to. the campus is quiet around you, the breeze moving gently through the trees, a door shutting somewhere in the distance while the world keeps going, and you’re still looking at him like that. not competitive. not guarded. not sharp. just open. it does something to him, and he doesn’t think about it or weigh the consequences or calculate the variables. he just moves. it’s subtle at first, barely a step and barely a shift, and then his hand lifts almost on instinct, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw like he’s checking if you’re real. you inhale sharply, and he sees the question in your eyes but doesn’t answer it. he kisses you. it’s not rushed and not aggressive. it’s almost hesitant for the first half-second, like he expects you to pull away, but you don’t. your breath catches warm and startled against his mouth, and that’s what undoes him. the kiss deepens, not wildly and not recklessly, just enough that it stops being accidental, his hand sliding slightly along your cheek with his thumb brushing your skin while the streetlight glows warm against closed eyes and quiet night air and the world narrows down to warmth and breath and the realization that this feels different. soft. real. you don’t move for a second, and then you respond. not aggressively. not desperately. just there. and that’s what snaps him out of it, because this isn’t a theory and this isn’t tension and this isn’t rivalry. this is you. and he just. fuck. why did he-

he pulls back first. too quickly. like he touched something electric. the distance between you feels enormous now, and you blink up at him with your lips slightly parted and your eyes wide not with anger but confusion as you breathe, “jake.” he steps back like he needs physical space to think and runs a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply and says, “i-“ before cutting himself off and adding, “that was…“ then dragging a hand over his face like he’s trying to erase the last ten seconds as he mutters, “that was stupid.” the word lands wrong. you swallow and ask, “why’d you do that?” and he opens his mouth but nothing coherent forms because he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know why your eyes looked like that under the streetlights or why the air felt charged or why standing close to you felt like standing on the edge of something he didn’t understand. “i don’t know“ he admits finally. you stare at him, not hurt and not furious, just confused, and you repeat softly, “you don’t know?” and he shakes his head once with his jaw tight as he says, “it just happened.” that doesn’t help. you look down for a second and then back up at him, and the softness from earlier is gone, not replaced with hostility but with uncertainty, as you say quietly, “i should go back inside.” he nods immediately, too fast, and says, “yeah“ and you hesitate like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, because if he opens his mouth again he might make it worse. you step back, then turn, then walk toward the dorm entrance without looking back, and he watches you go until the door closes behind you. suddenly he’s alone in the courtyard with the streetlights and the quiet and the echo of what he just did, and he drags a hand down his face as he mutters under his breath, “what the hell.” he just kissed you. he didn’t plan it and didn’t think about it and didn’t even understand it, and you looked-

“god“ he mutters to himself as he groans softly and starts walking back toward his dorm faster than necessary. by the time he pushes his own door open, niki looks up from his desk and asks, “well?“ and jake doesn’t answer. he walks straight past him and drops onto his bed, covering his face with both hands, and sunghoon glances over and says, “you look worse“ while jake muffles his voice behind his palms and says, “i messed up.” niki’s eyebrows lift as he asks, “how bad?“ and jake exhales slowly before admitting, “i fucking kissed her.” silence follows, and then niki says, “you what?” and jake drags his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling like it personally betrayed him as he mutters, “i don’t even know why.” that’s the worst part, because he can’t categorize it and he can’t frame it as strategy and he can’t explain it as impulse. he just knows that when the light caught in your eyes and you looked at him like that. he stopped thinking, and now he doesn’t know what this is or what he just changed.

you barely slept and the morning after feels so wrong. you wake up before your alarm and stare at the ceiling with the memory of his hand against your jaw still warm against your skin. it wasn’t aggressive. it wasn’t careless. it was deliberate for exactly half a second. and then it wasn’t. you sit up slowly and press your palm against your cheek as if you can still feel the imprint of him there. maybe it was impulsive. maybe it meant nothing. maybe it meant something. you don’t know. what you do know is that you haven’t received a text. not a clarification. not a joke. not even a ‘sorry about that.’ just silence. you tell yourself that’s fine. you get ready anyway. he’s already in the study room when you arrive. that’s new. jake barely ever arrives first. he’s sitting at the table with his laptop open and notes spread out with unsettling neatness. when the door opens he glances up. for a split second something flickers across his face. then it’s gone. “morning.” jake says it like nothing happened. you stop just inside the doorway before replying carefully “morning.” you wait. he doesn’t say anything else. you walk to your seat and sit down slowly placing your bag beside you. the air feels heavier than usual. he doesn’t look at you again before saying “we need to restructure the funding risk section. your phrasing implies direct negligence.” you blink and answer “that’s because it was negligent.” he counters immediately “it was strategic.” you stare at him. “you were fine with that phrasing yesterday.”- “i reconsidered.” -“when.” -“last night.” the words land heavier than they should. you hold his gaze. “you reconsidered the phrasing?” -“yes.” silence. you wait for something more. he doesn’t offer it. your pulse tightens slightly and you ask “are we going to talk about it?” he doesn’t look up from his screen. “talk about what?” you stare at him. he knows. “jake.” he finally looks at you with a carefully neutral expression. “we shouldn’t let personal things interfere with the project.” personal things. your stomach drops slightly. “so it was personal.” his jaw tightens. “that’s not what i meant.” -“then what did you mean?” he exhales slowly. “i meant it doesn’t need to be a thing.” your chest tightens. “it doesn’t need to be a thing?” - “it was impulsive. it doesn’t have to mean anything.” the words are controlled. too controlled. you search his face for hesitation. there is none. only precision. “okay.” the word leaves your mouth steady. you look down at your notes and don’t say anything else. he expected you to push. instead you nod once and open your laptop. “fine. then let’s focus on the project.” he feels the shift instantly. the softness from last night is gone. you are sharp lines and clean sentences again. he tells himself that’s good. that’s safer. “we need to adjust the model.” he leans forward slightly. “your interpretation overstates causality.” - “my interpretation is accurate.” -“no, it’s aggressive.” you look at him, and respond “it’s honest.” -“it’s just risky.” the word sits there. you ask before you can stop yourself “so you’re afraid of risk now?” he freezes. you didn’t mean it like that. but it lands anyway. “i’m not afraid of anything.” the lie settles between you. you push your chair back slightly. “then what is this.” - “this is me doing my job.” -“by rewriting my sections?” you say. “no y/n, by strengthening them.” -“you’re undermining them.” he leans back and crosses his arms. “if you feel undermined that’s not my fault.” that hits harder than it should. you stare at him. “you’re being competitive.” -“we are competitive.” -“not like this.” his eyes flash slightly. “like what.” - “like you’re trying to win something.” he doesn’t answer. because maybe he is. maybe if he wins this argument this structure this academic ground he can reestablish something solid. something defined. something that isn’t a memory of your lips and the way you inhaled when he touched you.

he swallows. “you’re reading into it.” you lean back slowly. “you kissed me jake.” the words are quiet and direct. he goes still. “yes.” -“and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen.” he looks at the ceiling  and says “i said it was impulsive.” -“that doesn’t erase it.” -“it doesn’t have to define anything either.” the word define catches in his throat. you study him carefully. “do you regret it?” he hesitates for half a second too long. “no.” the answer is immediate. too immediate. you don’t look convinced. he feels heat crawl up his neck. “i just don’t think it needs to complicate things.” your expression shifts. “complicate?” - “that’s not what i meant.” - “it sounds like you think i’m a complication.”. that landed. “no.”-“then what am i?” he stops breathing for a second. because he doesn’t know. you’ve always been his rival. his equal. his benchmark. his reference point. last night you were something else. he doesn’t have a word for that. “i don’t know.” the admission is quiet and unpolished. the room falls silent. you look at him differently now. not angry. not victorious. just confused. “that’s worse.” he nods once. “i know.” neither of you speak for several seconds. the air feels tight again. not electric like last night. fragile.

you close your laptop slowly. “i’m not trying to define it. i just don’t want to pretend it didn’t matter.” he swallows. it did matter. it mattered so much for him. that’s the problem. he clears his throat. “it’s not that it didn’t matter.” you look up sharply. he meets your eyes for exactly two seconds before looking away. “but i don’t know what it means.” there it is. not regression. not confession. just confusion. raw and exposed. you don’t smile. you don’t step closer. you wait for him to say something else, watching his face for any sign that he might soften again or elaborate on what he just admitted. he doesn’t. instead he straightens in his chair like a switch has flipped somewhere inside him, and the softness that slipped through a second ago disappears as his shoulders square and his posture resets into something controlled. “we’re wasting time“ jake says as he glances back at the document on his screen, his tone evening out into crisp efficiency. “we need to finalize the revised model before friday.” you stare at him for a long second, the pivot so abrupt it almost makes you dizzy, before asking quietly, “did you hear what i said?” without looking at you, he answers, “yes“ and when you press with a tight, “and?” he replies evenly, “and what?” your stomach tightens at the deliberate blankness in his voice. “jake.” you say, letting his name carry the frustration you are trying not to show. he exhales as if you are the one escalating things and says, “i told you it mattered. i just don’t know what it means. that doesn’t have to turn into a thesis“ and the phrasing stings in a way you can’t quite hide. “you’re shutting down again“ you tell him, leaning forward slightly as if proximity might force him to stay present. he shakes his head once and replies, “i’m focusing“ and he finally looks at you directly, his expression composed to the point of detachment as he says, “just forget it.” the emphasis lands harder than the words themselves, and you blink at the subtle separation in that sentence, at the way he frames this as something individual rather than shared. “why are you acting like this?” you ask, and this time there is no accusation in your voice, only confusion. “i’m not acting like anything“ he answers calmly, too calmly. you don’t let him redirect. “you kissed me“ you remind him, your voice steady despite the heat rising in your chest. “i know that” he says without hesitation. “and now you’re dissecting budget models“ you continue, watching for any crack in his composure. “because we have a budget model due“ he replies, holding your gaze without flinching. the eye contact stretches, and it feels as though he is building a wall in real time, stacking controlled sentence after controlled sentence until there is no space left for anything messy. “i don’t get you” you admit finally, the words slipping out before you can filter them. something flickers across his face at that-irritation, maybe, or something more defensive-and he responds, “you don’t have to.” the words colder than he intends. you sit back slowly, absorbing the chill in that statement, and say, “right“ because you refuse to let him see how much that landed. silence settles between you, thick and uncomfortable, the earlier fragility hardening into something structured and rigid, as if he is forcing everything back into a labeled box marked safe.

you close your laptop with deliberate care and tell him evenly, “i don’t think this meeting’s going to work.” his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before he asks, “why?” and you answer, “because you’re not here.” he gestures faintly toward himself and says, “i’m right here?” but you shake your head and reply, “no, you’re not” and this time he looks away first. you stand and slide your bag over your shoulder, adding, “we’ll review the edits later“ and he nods once without lifting his eyes from the screen as he says, “sure.” you hesitate for half a second, waiting for something-an apology, an explanation, anything-but he doesn’t look up. you turn toward the door. “hey“ he says suddenly, and the word stops you mid-step. you pause without fully turning around, and he keeps his eyes on the laptop as he says, “see you tonight.” you frown slightly and ask, “tonight?” and he clarifies in a tone that aims for casual, “arcade night. you’re still coming, right?” the normalcy of it feels surreal, as if nothing fractured and nothing shifted and you didn’t kiss him under streetlights less than a day ago. you swallow and answer, “yeah.” - “cool“ he says, scrolling through the document like this is just another scheduling detail, before adding, “don’t be late.” there is a brief pause, and then he says, “bye“ the word light and almost detached. you stand there a moment longer than necessary, hoping he might finally look up and undo some of the distance he just created, but he doesn’t. so you leave. the door shuts softly behind you, and the quiet that follows feels louder than any argument would have. jake doesn’t move for several seconds after you’re gone.

the cursor blinks on his screen, steady and indifferent. then he exhales slowly and drops his head into his hands, the composure slipping now that there is no one left to witness it. he hates that you said you don’t get him. he hates that he doesn’t get himself either. he knows what “you don’t have to” sounded like. he knows it was colder than he meant it to be. but pushing feels safer than falling, and if he keeps everything inside clean lines and deadlines and due dates, then maybe he won’t have to confront the fact that when he kissed you, it didn’t feel impulsive at all. it felt inevitable. you walk back to your dorm slower than you mean to. you tell yourself you’re annoyed. confused. frustrated with how impossible he is. that’s easier to hold onto than the other thing - the way your lips still feel warm, like the memory hasn’t fully faded. it was impulsive. he said so. it doesn’t have to mean anything. he said that too. so why are you replaying it? why do you keep remembering the way his hand felt against your jaw, careful and steady? the way he hesitated for half a second, like he was giving you time to pull away? you didn’t. that’s what bothers you. you didn’t pull away. you leaned into it. and now he’s built the distance back up like the kiss was a mistake he needs to contain, and you hate that you want him to undo it. you hate that you want him to look at you the way he did under the streetlights instead of the way he did this morning - guarded, precise, unreachable. maybe it didn’t define anything. but it changed something.

you almost don’t go, and that hesitation lingers while you stand in front of your mirror adjusting your jacket for no real reason other than needing something to fix. the kiss has been sitting under your skin all day, not painful and not pleasant, just present, and the way he acted that morning didn’t help. you hear his voice again in your head saying “it doesn’t have to mean anything” and your jaw tightens at the memory because if it didn’t mean anything then why did it feel like that. but it’s okay, because tonight’s about having fun and before you can overthink it again you grab your phone and head out. the arcade is loud before you even step inside. neon lights flicker against the glass windows and reflect in sharp colors across the pavement, and music pulses through the doors in rhythmic bursts mixed with electronic beeps and the metallic clatter of tokens. when you walk in the air smells like soda syrup and electricity, and he’s already there. of course he is. jake is standing near the basketball game with jay and jungwon, his sleeves pushed up slightly as he laughs at something jay just said, and the neon blue light above the machine cuts across his face and sharpens his features. for half a second he looks up and sees you. the laugh falters just slightly before he smooths it over. you walk toward them before you can second-guess it. from across the room sunoo calls out dramatically “finally i was about to file a missing persons report” and you reply as you approach “i was on time.” sunoo gestures at the clock above the prize counter and says “academically socially questionable” which makes eunchae rush toward you and hook her arm through yours while whispering “you look good” as she scans your face like she’s searching for emotional clues. you deadpan “i always look good” and jake lets out a soft snort that you feel more than hear. when you glance at him his posture is relaxed and his expression neutral but his eyes are sharper than usual, watching you in a way that feels measured.

jay claps his hands once and calls out “teams losers buy drinks” and kazuha responds calmly “define losers” while heeseung answers “lowest combined score” and yunjin warns “you’re not pairing strategically.” sunghoon suggests “pair randomly more entertaining” and your stomach tightens faintly even though you can’t explain why. niki claps once and announces “names in a cup” and within seconds chaos takes over as jay grabs paper napkins, sunoo insists on drawing twice because he “doesn’t trust fate“ and sakura laughs while chaewon tries to restore order. you stand still while jake stands across from you and neither of you mention the obvious. niki begins pulling names and reads them aloud as the group reacts. “jay and yunjin” earns exaggerated groans. “heeseung and kazuha” draws a confident nod from heeseung. “jungwon and sunoo” makes sunoo protest loudly that he deserves a better fate. “chaewon and sakura” prompts sakura to bow theatrically. then niki pulls another slip and pauses before saying “sunghoon and y/n” and you blink as sunghoon smiles faintly and says “guess we’re winning.” laughter ripples through the group, and when niki reads the final pairing “jake and eunchae” you feel the shift before you even look at him. it’s subtle. not anger. not irritation. just recalibration. jay grins and says “cute” while yunjin adds “strategic” and jake replies smoothly “i carry well.” eunchae elbows him and says “you’re not carrying me” which makes you laugh faintly without meaning to. his eyes flick toward you and then toward sunghoon who is now standing slightly closer to you as he leans toward the game list. the proximity is subtle but jake notices and doesn’t react outwardly.

jungwon calls out “first game” and jay declares “air hockey classic” and the machines light up in sharp red and blue neon that reflects across the polished floor. the arcade hums around you with laughter and flashing screens, loud enough that conversation feels close and almost intimate. you and sunghoon take your positions across from jay and yunjin while jake stands just behind eunchae’s shoulder watching. you don’t intend to be aware of that but you are. the puck flies fast once the game starts and you move instinctively, competitive focus settling over you naturally. when you block a shot sunghoon says quietly “nice” and you smirk and reply “obviously.” from the sidelines jake’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. it’s ridiculous and he knows it. sunghoon isn’t doing anything inappropriate and you aren’t doing anything different, but watching you laugh at something sunghoon says and lean slightly toward him while explaining a move feels different tonight and he doesn’t like that even though he doesn’t understand why. eunchae nudges his side and whispers “focus” and he answers “i am” even though he isn’t. he’s watching the way the neon light catches in your hair when you move and the way your hand brushes sunghoon’s when you both reach for the puck at the same time. it’s nothing. it’s normal. and yet it doesn’t feel neutral. the game ends with your team winning by two points and jay groans “unreal” while you say smoothly “you’re welcome” and sunghoon adds with a grin “told you.” jake claps once slowly and says lightly “impressive” and the tone is easy and the smile is perfect but niki notices the slight tension in his jaw.

“basketball next” niki announces quickly and the group shifts toward the next machine. you move with them and jake adjusts his position so that he ends up near you without quite stepping beside you. in a casual tone he says “nice reflexes” and you glance at him and answer “thank you” there is a pause that stretches just a second too long before you add “sunghoon’s not bad too” because it feels strange not to acknowledge your teammate. jake nods once and replies “he’s consistent” and the word carries an odd weight you can’t immediately name. you study him for half a second before asking quietly “you okay?” and he responds immediately “i’m fine” and this time you look away first. because whatever is happening behind his eyes tonight, he isn’t letting you near it. the group migrates toward the basketball machines in a loud, shifting cluster, and the arcade swallows you back into its bright chaos.

neon reflections skate across the floor, laughter bounces off the walls, and the air is warm with the smell of syrupy soda and that faint metallic bite of tokens and electronics. jay is already declaring, “losers buy drinks, and i’m not buying anything” while yunjin argues, “that rule is authoritarian!” and jungwon is busy counting out tokens like he’s distributing rations. niki squeezes past you with a grin that’s too knowing and says, “basketball is where egos go to die” and sunoo immediately gasps and replies, “my ego is immortal niki” and chaewon deadpans, “that’s a medical concern.” you find yourself smiling despite the tension stuck in your throat, and you focus on the game list taped to niki’s phone like it can keep you from thinking about the streetlight glow and the kiss you’re all pretending didn’t happen. jake stands a few feet away, shoulder angled casually toward the machine, but his attention keeps flicking in your direction in a way that’s brief enough to deny and frequent enough to feel. “okay“ heeseung announces, pointing at the row of machines. “we’re doing two rounds. highest score each team gets the points.” kazuha adjusts her sleeves with calm concentration and says, “i’ve seen people take this too seriously” and sakura laughs and replies, “we are people” and jay immediately says, “i’m not” which makes eunchae snort. you and sunghoon end up at the machine nearest the entrance while jake and eunchae take the one beside you, and the proximity is not close enough to be intimate but close enough that you can hear jake’s laugh when eunchae says something sharp and close enough that you can hear the rhythm of the balls hitting the rim and the low mechanical voice announcing time.

the arcade is loud but you’re hyperaware of him anyway, and you know you shouldn’t be noticing the way his sleeves are pushed up again or the way he rolls his shoulders before the timer starts like this is something that matters. you definitely shouldn’t be noticing the way his voice drops slightly when he teases eunchae. you tell yourself it’s just habit. the game starts and you shoot automatically, muscle memory taking over, but your focus is fractured because every time the ball leaves your hands you hear his machine next to yours, the sharp rhythm of his shots nearly synchronized with yours. you glance sideways once and catch him not looking at the hoop but at you, just for a second, before he looks away like he wasn’t. your stomach flips in a way that has nothing to do with competition. beside you sunghoon murmurs lightly “focus” and you answer “i am” though your voice sounds thinner than usual. the timer buzzes and the group cheers, someone groans dramatically about losing and jay shouts “losers buy drinks, remember” while arguing that sparkling water should not count as a loss expense. you barely register the score but jake does, and you can tell by the way his mouth curves faintly when he sees his number, not smug but quietly relieved. it’s subtle yet you see the way he straightens slightly like he’s reclaimed something small and necessary, and you don’t know why that bothers you. the group moves toward the drink counter in a loud chaotic cluster arguing about who owes what, and you drift with them until the crowd presses tighter than expected. sunghoon’s hand lands lightly at your waist to move you out of the way of someone rushing past, quick and casual and nothing more, but you feel jake go still before you even look at him. when you finally glance up he’s watching, not angry and not dramatic, just attentive, his jaw tightening slightly before he looks away and says something to jungwon that you don’t catch. niki catches it though, and you see him clock the moment and smirk faintly before nudging jake with his elbow while jake mutters something under his breath and shakes his head. you tell yourself it shouldn’t matter and yet it does.

at the counter plastic cups line up in a row beside a cluster of half-empty bottles someone definitely wasn’t supposed to bring, the sharp scent of alcohol mixing with sugar in the air. eunchae points at the bright blue soda just before someone tops it off with something clear and says “that one looks illegal” while squinting at it dramatically, then takes a bold sip anyway and immediately coughs and laughs at the burn. sunoo insists on something pink purely for aesthetic reasons and carefully pours a generous splash of vodka into it while declaring it “balanced” even though it very clearly isn’t, and after taking a long sip he winces, shrugs, and keeps drinking. sunghoon leans against the counter with a dark drink in hand, swirling it lazily before taking slow confident sips that are just frequent enough to matter. niki, who claimed he wasn’t going to drink much, is already halfway through his second cup and noticeably louder than usual as he argues about nothing in particular with exaggerated seriousness. even eunchae, after insisting she only wanted “a taste“ refills her cup with far less hesitation the second time.

you reach for a cup someone has mixed, something fizzy and deceptively sweet, at the same time jake does. his other hand already holds a drink and the ice clinks softly as he shifts it. your fingers brush, barely contact but it feels like electricity amplified by the faint warmth spreading through your system from the alcohol. you both freeze for half a second as the noise around you dulls and laughter grows brighter and more chaotic in the background, and the memory of streetlights and his hand at your jaw rushes back sharper than it has any right to. he pulls his hand back first though his movements are a fraction slower than usual and says lightly “you can take it“ his tone normal, too normal, but there’s the faintest flush high on his cheeks that wasn’t there earlier. you pick up the cup slowly and reply “thanks“ then take a sip to steady yourself. it tastes stronger than you expected but you swallow anyway. lowering your voice, though sunoo is attempting karaoke in the corner loudly enough that no one would hear you anyway, you ask “are we just going to keep pretending“ your words slightly softer around the edges from the alcohol. jake takes a sip of his drink before answering as if he needs the extra second and replies “pretending what“ with less sharpness than usual. “that it didn’t happen“ you clarify while tightening your fingers slightly around your cup. you’re warm now, not just from the room but from the steady buzz settling into your limbs. he exhales slowly, the sound heavier than before, and says “we talked about this“ his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. you shake your head, the movement looser than you intended, and answer “no, you shut it down“ your words not slurred but more honest than you might have been earlier.

across the room niki bursts into loud laughter at something that absolutely isn’t that funny and nearly spills his drink as sunghoon steadies him with an amused shake of his head, though sunghoon himself is smiling more than usual with alcohol softening the sharpness of his expression. jake’s jaw tightens as he says “we’re not doing this here“ though he doesn’t step away immediately and his fingers flex slightly around his cup. “why not?“ you press, taking another sip without thinking as the sweetness now masks the burn. he glances over your shoulder at the group where eunchae is dramatically explaining something with wild hand gestures, pink-cheeked and giggling, while sunoo clings to her arm and insists the floor is ‘tilting emotionally.‘

“because this isn’t the place“ jake replies, his voice quieter and less guarded than earlier. you let out a breath that feels warmer than it should and tell him “it’s never the place with you“ and even tipsy you see it land. his composure slips just slightly. the alcohol has softened his edges and he’s not as controlled as he thinks he is. instead of stepping closer he steps back but only half a step and says “i don’t want to make it bigger than it is“ though the words lack their usual certainty. you study him with your head tilted faintly, courage fueled by the steady buzz in your veins, and ask softly “or smaller.” for a moment he doesn’t answer. the neon light above flickers across his eyes and there’s a faint flush along his neck now that definitely isn’t just from the room. he lifts his drink, takes another swallow like he’s buying time, then lowers it and admits “i don’t know“ and this time the honesty isn’t pried out of him. it just slips free. there it is again, confusion rather than denial or rejection, and it would be easier if he said it meant nothing or easier if he said it meant everything but this middle ground feels unbearable. the group calls your name from across the arcade and jay waves while yelling about a two-player shooter game, and jake glances toward them before looking back at you and saying quietly “you’re overthinking it.” you hold his gaze and reply “obviously, i have to” because you don’t kiss people impulsively and you don’t lose focus like that and you leaned into it. he swallows before adding suddenly “i don’t regret it,” which makes your heart stutter, but then he finishes with “i just don’t know what it was” and you hate that it sounds honest. you nod slowly and say “okay” though it isn’t okay, and you walk back toward the group before the silence thickens.

the next game blurs into laughter and competition, niki teasing jake about something, sunghoon standing close again, eunchae dragging you into a racing seat while you feel jake’s attention like a current under your skin every time you laugh or someone stands too near or you don’t look at him. at one point you glance up and find him already looking at you, not competitive and not sharp, just searching, and you look away first because if you don’t you might do something reckless. later when the group is distracted arguing about who lost overall and who owes drinks next time you find yourself standing slightly apart near the edge of the arcade while jake stands across the room with neon lights cutting across his profile as he laughs at something heeseung says. he looks fine and composed like nothing has changed but you know better because you felt the hesitation in his hands and heard the crack in his voice when he said he didn’t regret it and saw the way he went still when sunghoon touched your waist. you’re tired of guessing and tired of replaying one kiss and one half conversation in your head like a case study. you want data and certainty and to know whether what you felt under the streetlights was real or just adrenaline and proximity and unresolved tension. you watch him laugh again and think with a slow steady clarity that scares you more than the kiss itself that you need to know.

the arcade is louder than it was an hour ago, or maybe you are simply more aware of it now. flashing neon lights bleed across the floor in restless colors while music pulses near the rhythm machines. jay is arguing about lap times like it is a moral issue, sunoo is dramatically losing to a claw machine and blaming capitalism, and eunchae is laughing too loudly at something heeseung just said. jake is standing near the racing games with one hand resting casually on the back of a seat while nodding at whatever jungwon is explaining. he looks normal. too normal. like nothing happened under the streetlights. like nothing happened at the drink counter. like you did not just spend the last hour trying not to think about his lips. you watch him as he laughs at something, the sound easy and controlled, and then his eyes flick up and land on you. there is no smile this time, only recognition and something unsettled beneath it. you do not think. you move. you cross the arcade floor without planning your steps, the noise fading in strange patches as you walk straight toward him. he notices immediately and his posture shifts slightly as he asks lightly but alertly “what?” you stop in front of him and say “come outside.” he frowns faintly and asks “what? why?” - “just come“ you tell him, not giving him space to argue before turning toward the exit and pushing the door open into the cool night air.

a thin curtain of rain greets you immediately, droplets catching in the streetlights as they fall. he follows. the door shuts behind you and the sudden quiet feels almost shocking after the chaos inside, softened further by the steady patter of rain against pavement and rooftops. the campus is dimly lit with streetlights stretching in soft gold lines across the wet pavement, reflections rippling in shallow puddles, and the faint breeze moves through the trees carrying the distant hum of traffic beyond the gates along with the clean scent of rain. water beads along your jacket and dampens his hair within seconds. he stops a few feet from you, rain slipping from his lashes, and asks again “what’s going on?” you turn to face him, rain cooling your skin, your heart racing harder now not from nerves but from certainty. you do not know what this means. you do not know what he means. you just know you are tired of not knowing. “i have to do something“ you tell him over the soft hiss of rainfall. he narrows his eyes slightly, rain tracing down the line of his jaw, and says “that sounds ominous.” -“it’s not” you reply, blinking water from your lashes. “then what is it?” he presses as thunder rumbles faintly in the distance. you take one step closer, shoes splashing lightly against the soaked pavement, and say “for research purposes.” he stares at you through the rain and says “what?” you do not explain. you reach for him, your fingers catching the front of his rain-damp jacket as you pull him down toward you before your brain can retreat, and you kiss him.

it is deliberate. raindrops cling between you, cool against warm skin. you do not melt into it and you do not hesitate. you kiss him like you are testing a theory, your mouth pressing firmly against his while your other hand steadies at his shoulder, damp fabric beneath your palm. you’re not trying to be romantic. you’re trying to be certain. for a heartbeat he freezes, rain sliding down both your faces. then his hands move. one settles at your waist automatically, warm and grounding even through the chill of soaked clothes, while the other hovers near your side before gripping slightly as if confirming you are real. you deepen the kiss just slightly, rain falling steadily around you, not because you cannot help it but because you need to know. when you pull back first your breathing is uneven and his hands linger a second longer before dropping, droplets falling from his fingertips. the space between you feels charged despite the cold rain soaking through.

he looks at you, water glistening on his skin, and laughs quietly “well, you’re tipsy.” you blink because you did not expect him to put it back on you. ”jake, you’re literally the one with a drinking problem.” rain runs down the side of your neck as you swallow. “hm, that was different…” you admit, your voice softer beneath the rainfall. his brow lifts faintly as he asks “different how?” a drop slides from his hair down his temple. you search your own reaction. it was not panic. it was not adrenaline. it was not accidental. it felt steady. “i think i liked it” you say, the words dissolving into the rain-cooled night air between you. his expression changes, not smug and not teasing, just softer, rain catching on his lashes, and he answers without hesitation “i liked it too.” there is no deflection this time and no attempt to minimize it, just truth carried through the steady patter around you. “you did?” you ask quietly, rain dripping from your chin. “yes.” he replies, and the way he says it makes your chest tighten in a way that is not confusion anymore.

he steps forward slowly, shoes splashing in a shallow puddle, lifting his hand in a way that gives you space to pull away if you want to. you do not. his thumb brushes lightly along your rain-cooled jaw and rests there the way it did the first night, but now there is no uncertainty in his touch, only warmth against the chill. “this isn’t research” he says softly, rain sliding between your faces, before leaning in to kiss you again. this time it is not measured or experimental. it is intentional. his mouth moves against yours slowly as rain falls steadily over you both, as if he is choosing every second of it. his other hand slides around your waist to pull you closer, damp fabric clinging between you, not urgently and not possessively, just enough that the distance disappears. you feel the difference immediately. rain soaks your hair and trickles down your spine but you barely notice. this is not testing. this is wanting. your hands move to his shoulders without thinking and grip lightly, water slick beneath your fingers, as the kiss deepens, warm and undeniable despite the cold rain surrounding you.

when he pulls back his forehead rests against yours, rain tapping softly against your skin, and you are both breathing harder, mingling with the rhythm of the storm. “so…” he murmurs, voice low beneath the rainfall. “so-” you echo, rainwater slipping between your joined brows. a faint smile curves at the corner of his mouth before he says “come back with me.” your heart skips as thunder rolls faintly overhead and you ask “to your dorm?” he nods slightly, droplets falling from his chin, and replies “niki and sunghoon aren’t leaving anytime soon. they’ll stay.” he does not push. he just waits. you don’t say yes immediately, but you don’t say no either. you just look at him. the neon glow from the arcade sign flickers faintly against his rain-damp face while the campus beyond feels softer and quieter beneath the steady downpour, warmer somehow now that the noise from inside is muffled by the rain. it feels like the world has narrowed to this small patch of wet pavement and falling water. after a moment you ask “you’re sure?” and he nods once, rain dripping from his hair, before answering “yeah.” there’s something steadier in him now, less defensive and less sharp than he was earlier. you swallow, tasting rain on your lips, and finally say “okay.”

the walk to his dorm is quiet. not awkward exactly, but charged. your hands brush once by accident and neither of you comment on it. the silence between you feels thick, full of things you don’t have names for yet. when you reach his building he opens the door and gestures for you to go inside. the hallway lights are dimmer than the arcade’s chaos and everything feels calmer, more private. you’re suddenly aware of how close you’re standing to him again as he stops just inside his room. and suddenly it’s quiet. no neon. no friends. no noise to hide behind. just him. just you. for a second neither of you move and the air feels thicker here, heavier without distraction. he looks at you carefully and says softly “you didn’t really answer me.” you tilt your head slightly and ask “about what” even though you already know. he steps a fraction closer and clarifies “whether this was still research.” instead of replying you step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. that is your answer. his eyes drop to your mouth for a split second and that is all it takes. you grab his shirt this time, not careful and not analytical, and pull him down toward you. the kiss isn’t measured anymore. it’s hungry. he responds instantly like he was waiting for permission to stop holding back, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him, not gentle and not rough, just decisive. your back hits the door softly but you don’t care. your fingers tangle into his hair and he exhales sharply against your mouth, the sound sending heat straight through you. this isn’t testing. this isn’t curiosity. this is wanting.

his mouth moves slower now, deeper and more deliberate, and one hand drifts up your side with fingertips pressing through fabric as if he is memorizing you. you tilt your head to give him better access without thinking and your pulse feels like it’s everywhere. he pulls back just enough to breathe and his lips brush yours when he says quietly “so this isn’t research?” you swallow and admit “no.” his thumb slides along your jaw and down the line of your throat, not pushing, just feeling, and the tension between you snaps fully. you kiss him again before he can think. your hands slide under the hem of his shirt and your fingertips brush warm skin, and he inhales sharply not from surprise but from the way your touch lingers. his grip on your waist tightens and there is nothing careful about it now. you don’t feel confused.

you feel heat pooling low in your stomach and spreading slowly and deliberately. he shifts and guides you backward without breaking the kiss until your legs hit the edge of his bed. he pauses there, not because he’s unsure but because he’s checking you. your eyes meet and you nod once. that’s all he needs. he kisses you again, slower and deeper, and this time there is no pretending that either of you don’t want this. when he finally pulls back you are both breathing harder and the room feels smaller and warmer. your hands are still in his shirt and his are still at your waist. neither of you step away. that’s when it hits you. not a romantic revelation and not a safety epiphany but something sharper. you want him. not as a rival. not as a variable. not as a distraction. you want him. and that realization is terrifying because wanting means losing control. he brushes his nose lightly against yours and asks again in a lower voice “you really sure?” your mouth having gone completely dry. so you gave a simple yet frantic nod. well, you tried to, because the second your head moved a mere inch, he dove in.

he was so eager that, at first, it was less of a kiss and more of him aggressively pushing his mouth onto yours. he quickly resolved this, parting his lips as to interlock with yours. already caging you against the wall, he grabbed both your wrists and held them beside your head. the action made you gasp, giving jake the opportunity to slip his tongue in. your tongue battled with his for a moment, but you put up a weak fight, as your mind was going completely blank, and let him take over. jake was moving his lips away from yours, in attempt to come up for air, when you lightly bit his bottom lip and pulled it. he moaned, seemingly forgetting the need to breathe as he went back to your lips, intensifying the kiss, and not daring to pull away again. you whimpered into the kiss, the sounds going straight to his cock. as your noises grew, jake’s erection continued to throb in an unbearable pain. he pressed his pelvis against yours, at first moving to slowly rub it up and down. the friction made you moan, weakening his self control even more. the light grinding began to grow more aggressive, more pathetic as he was now dry humping you in entirety. he moved his hands to your hips, keeping them in place as he began to absolutely rut into you. he needed you to feel him, needed you to know how unbearably hard you made him. jake moved his lips to placed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck, sensually moving his tongue over the skin as he lightly sucked. your mind was hazy, only being able to focus on the ache in your core, and the hard bulge which was repeatedly being rubbed against you. jake whined out of breath as he got off using you, burying his face in your neck. it sounded pornographic as he whimpered in rhythm with his grinding.

he was so shamelessly needy in trying to rut into you like a dog, and it made your panties dampen even more. slowly, you grabbed one of his hands and lead it to your abdomen, sliding your hands down under the waistband of the shorts until his hand was right over your clothed mound. jake moaned at the feeling of getting to touch you over your soaking underwear. “you’re so wet“ jake said more to himself than to you. “yeah, i was just in the rain“ you teased. you were about to say something else, when you gasped from the feeling of jake’s hand going underneath your panties, keeping his hand still over your folds. “smartass“ he snickered. he looked at you, his eyes softening as he asked, “is this okay?”-“yes, jake. i need you”. he groaned, restricting himself from taking you right there. he wanted to make this last for as long as possible. “tell me where” you didn’t say anything, just pushing your hand against his into your core, trying to get his hand impossibly closer. he wanted to tease you, but decided to give in, slowly sliding his finger into your entrance. he wanted to make you beg for it, but decided he’d have that kind of fun with you later. for a second neither of you register the sudden violent vibration against the desk. your breath is uneven and the air between you is still thick and charged, his body close enough that you can feel the heat of him through your clothes. the vibration stops and for half a heartbeat the world feels suspended again. then it starts ringing. sharp. insistent. impossible to ignore. jake freezes and you do too. the sound slices through everything that was building, everything that felt dangerously close to tipping past the point of return. across the room the screen of jake’s phone lights up.

niki.

jake exhales sharply through his nose and mutters “are you fucking kidding me” under his breath while his jaw tightens. the phone keeps ringing. you shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you are to the bed, to him, to what you were just doing. your pulse hasn’t slowed yet but your mind is catching up fast. reality rushes in all at once. the phone stops, then immediately starts again. jake pulls his hands back like he’s been burned and steps away from you, running a hand roughly through his hair, irritation already surfacing. “of course“ he says quietly, more to himself than to you. he grabs the phone on the third ring and answers without greeting, saying flatly “what.” on the other end niki’s voice is loud and suspicious even through the speaker as he asks “where are you?” jake closes his eyes for a second before replying “dorm.” niki repeats “dorm?” and adds “since when? we’re closing out. you still owe drinks.” jake glances at you while you fix your shirt and avoid his eyes. “since like five minutes ago“ he says tightly. there is a pause before niki hums slowly and says “you sound weird.” jake’s jaw flexes as he replies “i’m not.” niki presses “you sure? because jay says-” and jake cuts him off with “i’ll be there in a bit.” niki asks casually “alone?” and jake’s silence lasts half a second too long. you feel it. “i’ll be there.” he repeats, sharper now, before hanging up. the room falls quiet again but it is not the same quiet.

the heat is still there but now it is tangled with awareness and with the undeniable realization of what you were about to do. jake tosses the phone onto the desk a little harder than necessary and mutters “that was unnecessary.” you look at him and say “what’s up with you?” he answers immediately “nothing.” and when you raise an eyebrow he exhales and adds “he doesn’t need to know where i am every second.” silence stretches between you. your breathing has steadied but your thoughts have not. you start with “that was…” and then stop. jake looks at you and waits. you search for something safer to say and finish with “we were drunk.” the explanation hangs in the air like a lifeline. jake hesitates before saying “yeah. we were.” it is convenient. easy. a way to shrink what just happened into something temporary. you nod slowly and begin “it probably wouldn’t have-” but he cuts you off quietly with “yeah. probably not.” the words feel strange. too final. he steps back another inch and the space between you widens. you feel colder immediately. “i should go“ you say. he nods and replies “i’ll walk you.” you shake your head slightly and say “you don’t have to.” he answers simply “it’s fine.” the walk back is quieter than the one here. there is no teasing and no tension, just silence. your shoulder brushes his once and neither of you react. when you reach your dorm building you both stop automatically under the faint glow of the campus lights. “so“ you say. “so“ he echoes. neither of you mention the way his hands felt or the way you pulled him closer or the way neither of you hesitated. “goodnight“ you say. “goodnight“ he replies. you turn first and as you step inside you do not look back. jake stands there for a few seconds after the door closes, then drags a hand slowly down his face and mutters to himself “we were drunk.” but he remembers everything. every second. you both do. and that is the problem.

you don’t fall asleep so much as drift in and out of consciousness, and every time you close your eyes the same images replay in precise merciless detail. you see the arcade door shutting behind you, the campus lights looking softer than usual, and the way his hand slid to your waist without hesitation. sometime around three in the morning a single thought settles heavily in your chest: you weren’t that drunk. you turn onto your side and pull the blanket higher even though you’re not cold. you replay it again, slower this time, dissecting it the way you would a problem set. you kissed him first. not impulsively and not by accident. you grabbed his jacket and pulled him down. you said it was for research. you deepened it. you went back with him. you said yes. you remember the exact tone of your own voice when you said it. steady. certain. that certainty unsettles you the most. your phone lights up on the nightstand and the glow cuts through the dark. you roll over to check it, your pulse quickening in spite of yourself, only to see the group chat lighting up the screen. jay is complaining about sunoo stealing his hoodie. niki sends a blurry photo of jungwon asleep on the bus ride back. eunchae is spamming emojis. there is no private notification. you stare at the screen longer than necessary. he hasn’t texted. you don’t know if you feel relieved or disappointed. you flip the phone face down and tell yourself you don’t care. but fuck, you absolutely do.

morning feels too bright. you sit at your desk with your laptop open and a document you haven’t actually read in ten minutes, your eyes skimming the same paragraph while your mind loops something entirely different. you hear his voice in your head asking “you sure?” and you remember that you hadn’t hesitated. you lean back in your chair and press your fingers to your temples. that is the second realization. if you had felt unsure you would have stopped it. if you had regretted it you would have pulled away. you didn’t. a knock hits your door and doesn’t wait for permission before eunchae walks in like she owns the space. she takes one look at your face and narrows her eyes before saying “you look like you either committed a crime or didn’t sleep.” without looking at her you reply “both are dramatic assumptions.” she closes the door and crosses her arms. “you left early“ she says. you answer “so did jake“ and her eyebrows rise slowly. “oh“ she says, then repeats more softly as she steps closer “oh- why did you leave with jake?” -“we didn’t leave together“ you say, keeping your gaze on your laptop. she tilts her head and asks “did you go somewhere after?” silence answers for you. eunchae gasps loudly and exclaims “oh my god.” you wince and say quickly “it’s not a big deal.” she points at you and says “that is exactly what someone says before it’s absolutely a big deal.” you close your laptop and explain “we were drunk.” she studies you and asks carefully “were you though?” you hesitate half a second too long and her eyes widen. “you weren’t.” she says, sounding almost impressed. you look away and admit quietly “no.” she drops onto your bed dramatically and asks “did you hook up?” you answer “kinda, i mean we were about to but niki called him.” she presses a pillow over her face and muffles a scream while you fight a small reluctant smile. lowering the pillow she demands “did you like it.” you hesitate and try to analyze your reaction like it is a statistic. it wasn’t awkward and it wasn’t forced and it wasn’t fueled by blurred judgment. it felt deliberate. “yes“ you say finally. eunchae drops the pillow and repeats “you liked it.” you respond “i said yes.” she studies you and asks “do you regret it?”

that question makes you pause longer. you replay not the intensity but the quieter parts, the way he paused to look at you, the way he asked if you were sure, the way he didn’t push. you shake your head and answer “not really” that part is clear. you don’t regret it. you just don’t understand it. eunchae softens and asks “then what’s the problem.” you lean back in your chair and say slowly “the problem is that i don’t know what it means.” she shrugs lightly and says “maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.” you look at her sharply and say “that’s worse.” she blinks and asks “why?” you answer “because if it means nothing then it was just convenient.” you hate how that word feels in your mouth. “did it feel convenient?” eunchae asks. you think about the way your pulse spiked when he looked at you, the way your body reacted before your mind caught up, the way you didn’t want to stop. “no“ you admit. she leans forward and says “then it wasn’t.” you stare at your desk and add quietly “but he said we were drunk.” she points out “and you didn’t?” you press your lips together because you did. you let that explanation settle because it was easier than dissecting the alternative. you think about the way you stepped back first, the way you said you should go, the way you didn’t text. “i don’t know“ you admit, and that is the honest answer. you don’t know what he is thinking and that is what unsettles you.

the rest of the morning drifts by in a strange half focus. you answer messages and attend class and contribute to discussions. you don’t see him anywhere, not in the hallway and not across campus. the absence feels louder than his presence would have. you catch yourself glancing at your phone twice during lecture. there is nothing. no text. you don’t send one either. you tell yourself you are giving him space and being rational, but the truth is simpler. you don’t want to be the first one to act like it mattered. because what if he didn’t think it did. that thought lingers uncomfortably. you don’t regret it, but you don’t know if he does, and for the first time since the kiss that uncertainty bothers you more than the heat of it ever did.

jake didn’t sleep either. he lays on his back staring at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head like he could physically hold his thoughts in place. every time he closed his eyes he saw flashes of it, the wall, your hands gripping his shirt, his hands in your shorts, the way you said yes without blinking. he wasn’t that drunk, and that is the part that annoys him most. if he had been, this would be easier. across the room niki shifts in his bed and groans into his pillow before muttering thickly with sleep “you left early.” jake doesn’t answer. sunghoon rolls onto his side and squints at him before adding “you didn’t answer his calls either.” jake finally exhales and says “i was busy.” niki lifts his head slowly and repeats suspiciously “busy. at the dorm.” jake grabs his hoodie off the chair and answers “yeah.” niki immediately asks “with who” and jake shoots him a warning look as he says “don’t.” niki sits up fully with a grin spreading across his face and exclaims “oh my god.” sunghoon rubs his face, awake enough now to be entertained, and says matter-of-factly “you went back with her?” it’s not really question. jake pulls the hoodie over his head and replies “yeah.” niki leans forward eagerly and asks “and..?” jake shrugs and says “nothing.” niki stares at him like he just insulted his intelligence and repeats “nothing?” jake repeats firmly “nothing.” sunghoon studies him for a second before asking calmly “then why do you look like that.” jake frowns and asks “like what.” niki answers helpfully “like someone unplugged you mid-download.” jake throws a pillow at him and niki catches it, laughing as he asks “so what happened.” jake runs a hand through his hair and walks toward the sink, deliberately avoiding eye contact, and says “we talked.” niki gasps dramatically and repeats “you talked.” sunghoon adds dryly “shocking.” jake splashes water on his face and says “we were drunk.” there is a brief pause before niki replies slowly “you weren’t that drunk.” jake freezes for half a second before continuing to dry his face and mutters “you don’t know that.” niki immediately counters “i do. you were calculating claw machine angles. that’s not drunk behavior.” sunghoon snorts quietly at that. jake throws the towel back onto the counter and says “it doesn’t matter.” niki leans forward and asks directly “did you kiss her?” jake doesn’t answer and niki’s eyes widen as he says “you did.” sunghoon raises an eyebrow and asks “oh- even more than that” jake exhales sharply and says “why are you like this.” niki replies cheerfully “because you’re being vague.”

sunghoon tilts his head slightly and asks “did you want to leave?” jake’s jaw tightens and he says “we got interrupted.” niki blinks and asks “by who.” jake shoots him a look and niki’s mouth drops open as he says “me?” sunghoon stares at niki for a full second before saying flatly “number one cockblocker.” niki gasps in outrage and protests “i did not know” jake groans and rubs his forehead as he says “can we not.” niki points at him and says “i interrupted something.” jake snaps back “you didn’t interrupt anything.” niki immediately counters “then why are you annoyed at me?” jake opens his mouth and then closes it again. sunghoon watches him carefully and asks “did you want it to stop?” the room grows quieter. jake doesn’t look at either of them and instead stares at the floor before finally answering “obviously not.” niki leans back slowly and says “damn.” sunghoon’s expression shifts, no longer teasing but observant, as he responds “okay.” jake runs a hand through his hair again and says in frustration “it’s not a thing.” niki says evenly “you say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.” jake glares at him and says “she just left.” sunghoon’s eyes sharpen slightly as he asks “left how.” jake replies more flatly now “she said we were drunk. and then she left.” niki tilts his head and prompts “and..?” jake answers “and that’s it.” silence settles for a moment. sunghoon leans back against the wall and suggests lightly “maybe she just didn’t want it to be awkward.” jake shrugs and says “or maybe she regretted it.” the admission is quiet and not dramatic. niki’s grin fades slightly as he asks “did she look like she regretted it.” jake thinks about it. you didn’t look unsure and you didn’t look nervous, but you stepped back first and said you should go and you didn’t text. “i don’t know“ he admits. sunghoon studies him and says “you’re overthinking.” jake huffs and replies “you think so?” niki smirks and says “you are.” jake grabs his phone off the desk and sees no notifications from you. he doesn’t open your chat and he doesn’t type anything. he locks the screen and tosses it back down before saying again “it doesn’t matter.” niki exchanges a look with sunghoon and sunghoon says lightly “sure.” jake pushes past them toward the door and says “i’m going to class.” as he leaves, niki mutters just loud enough “aannddd he’s gone.” sunghoon replies calmly “finally.”

for the next days you didn’t really plan on avoiding him, and that’s the problem. if it were intentional it would feel strategic, controlled, rational. instead it just happens. you take a slightly different path across campus in the morning without consciously deciding to. you slow down near the library steps longer than necessary. you pretend to check your phone when you normally wouldn’t. you tell yourself it’s coincidence. it isn’t. by the time you reach the lecture hall your pulse is higher than it should be for an eight a.m. class. he’s already there. of course he is. jake is sitting two rows down from his usual seat with his laptop open, posture relaxed in a way that looks effortless but isn’t. he’s talking to jay about something academic and nodding along with a neutral expression. he doesn’t look up when you enter. you don’t look at him either. you choose a seat on the opposite side of the room. it’s not dramatic and it’s not obvious. there are plenty of seats. no one would think twice about it. except you know. you always sit closer. the room fills slowly with low conversation and the shuffle of backpacks. eunchae slides into the seat beside you and immediately glances across the room before leaning toward you to whisper “he’s here.” you murmur back “i can see that.” she studies your face and asks quietly “are we pretending.” you answer simply “yes.” she nods once and says “cool.” you open your laptop and force your attention to the screen while the cursor blinks in the corner of a document you aren’t reading. you feel his gaze before you see it. it lands briefly, just long enough to confirm you’re here. you don’t look up. you know if you do it will turn into something. on the other side of the room jake closes his laptop halfway and leans back in his chair. he didn’t expect you to sit that far away. he tells himself it doesn’t matter. there are empty seats between you. it’s normal. it’s fine. he avoids looking at you for a full minute. then he does. you aren’t looking at him. you’re leaning slightly toward eunchae, saying something quiet with a thoughtful expression. you look normal. not flustered. not tense. just normal. his jaw tightens faintly. maybe you are fine.

the professor walks in and the room settles. the lecture begins. you take notes and when you ask a question midway through your voice is steady and analytical as always. the professor nods approvingly. jake listens. you don’t stumble and you don’t hesitate and you don’t even glance in his direction. later he answers a question, tone confident and sharp. you don’t look at him then either. now it feels intentional. halfway through class the professor announces a short paired discussion exercise and says “turn to someone near you.” you freeze. there are several people around you. none of them are him. jake glances sideways automatically. and you turn to eunchae without looking across the room. he then does the same. the discussion lasts maybe ten minutes but it feels longer. you can hear his voice from across the room, calm and controlled and articulate. it sounds exactly like it always has. that unsettles you. you thought something would feel different. but externally nothing has changed. internally your pulse spikes every time you hear him laugh at something someone says. you wonder if he’s thinking about it. you wonder if he’s relieved. you wonder if he regrets it. when the professor calls the room back to order you don’t look at him once. as soon as class ends you close your laptop quickly and slide it into your bag before the room fully dissolves into movement. eunchae stands slowly and watches you with thinly veiled curiosity before asking quietly, “you’re not even going to look.” you reply, “there’s nothing to look at.”

across the room jake packs his things more slowly than usual and watches you stand. you don’t glance over. you just walk toward the exit with eunchae beside you. he stays seated for a few extra seconds until sunghoon nudges his shoulder and says “you’re staring.” jake replies immediately “i’m not.” sunghoon answers calmly “you are.” jake grabs his bag and mutters “she seems fine.” jake walks out of the lecture hall a few steps behind you, not close enough to look intentional but close enough to notice. you’re laughing at something eunchae says and you look completely unbothered. his chest tightens faintly. he doesn’t know what he expected. maybe a glance. maybe a pause. maybe some sign. you don’t give him one. at the doors you push them open and step into the hallway without slowing. for half a second your shoulders almost brush. almost. you shift slightly to the right and he shifts slightly to the left. it’s subtle but deliberate. the distance between you feels louder than any argument would have. neither of you speak. neither of you stop. you walk in opposite directions.

the hallway spills out into the central quad and the quad is alive with noise. music thumps from somewhere near the fountain. student clubs line the grass with folding tables and banners. someone is handing out free iced coffee while someone else shouts about exchange programs. eunchae tugs at your sleeve and says “oh wait, this is today.” you glance around and ask “the campus fair?” she nods and replies “yeah. we forgot.” you scan the crowd and quickly spot the rest of the group gathered near one of the booths. jay is mid-argument about something academic. sunoo is holding two drinks he clearly did not pay for. kazuha and sakura are reading flyers like they are evaluating them professionally. heeseung stands near them and looks up with an easy smile when he sees you. “hey“ he says. you step into the the group “hi“ and the noise forces everyone to stand a little closer than usual because it is crowded and people brush past constantly. heeseung leans slightly toward you and asks “did you understand that last example in lecture?” you reply “yeah. it was just misapplied.” he nods and says “that’s what i thought.” someone squeezes past abruptly behind you and heeseung’s hand lands lightly at your waist to steady you so you do not stumble forward. it is automatic and his hand drops almost immediately. you barely register it because you are used to physical proximity in crowded spaces. across the quad jake does register it. he did not mean to look. he just heard your laugh and that is what pulled his attention. you look normal and relaxed and you are talking easily. then he sees heeseung’s hand at your waist. it is nothing. just a reflex. just balance. but jake’s shoulders go rigid for a second. he tells himself it is nothing because it is. heeseung is not leaning in and he is not flirting and he is not hovering. he is just there. you laugh at something jay says and heeseung leans closer to say something near your ear so you can hear him over the music. jake’s jaw tightens before he even realizes it has. “stop“ niki says quietly beside him. jake glances at him and asks “what.” niki tilts his head and says “you’re doing that thing.” jake replies “i’m not doing anything.” niki gives him a look and says “you are.”

jake looks back at the group just as someone bumps into you again from the side and heeseung’s hand briefly rests at your waist to guide you a step forward so you are not shoved into the table. and jake inhales slowly through his nose. sunghoon steps up on his other side and says quietly “okay, you’re overthinking.” jake replies “i’m not.” sunghoon answers calmly “you are.” jake runs a hand through his hair, eyes still fixed on the group, and mutters “he keeps touching her.” sunghoon looks over. heeseung’s hand has already dropped. “he’s steadying her“ sunghoon says evenly. “it’s crowded.” jake does not respond because he knows that. he knows it is crowded and harmless and that heeseung is not doing anything wrong. that does not stop the tight feeling in his chest. niki studies his expression and says “you didn’t care about physical stuff like that before.” jake exhales sharply and replies “i still don’t care.” sunghoon looks at him for a long second and says “you do.” jake’s jaw sets. across the quad you glance up instinctively and for a second your eyes meet his. he looks away first, not dramatically but slightly too fast. your stomach tightens and you turn back to the group, though your awareness has shifted. you feel him watching. the conversation moves on and someone suggests grabbing food from one of the trucks. the group begins breaking into smaller clusters. heeseung walks ahead with jay and jungwon while you hang back for a second. jake does not approach you and he does not insert himself. he simply stands where he is. that almost makes it worse. niki nudges him lightly and asks “you going to stand there all day.” jake shrugs and says “it’s fine.” sunghoon folds his arms and comments “you’re acting like she’s going to disappear.” jake answers more sharply than he means to “i’m not.” sunghoon studies him quietly and says “what’s up with you? you didn’t react like this before.” jake swallows. before what. before the kiss. before the dorm. before the interruption. before you stepped back. he looks at you again. you are smiling at something sunoo just said and you look completely unaware of the way he is dissecting every movement. he feels stupid because heeseung did not do anything and you did not do anything and this reaction feels disproportionate. niki leans closer and says quietly “you think she regretted it.” jake’s head snaps toward him and he says “i didn’t say that.” niki replies “but you do.” you really do look normal, maybe too normal. “i don’t know, she seems fine to me” he adds. sunghoon nods slightly and replies “maybe she is.” that lands wrong. jake exhales slowly while the fair continues around them with music swelling and people laughing and the group shifting further toward the food trucks. he does not move immediately. he stands there for a second longer than necessary, watching you and trying to convince himself he does not care.

niki watches him for another second before saying “okay, this is stupid” and then starts walking toward the group. sunghoon follows without comment. jake stands still for half a second longer before he follows too. he is not rushed and not tense. he is simply composed. by the time they reach the rest of you his expression is neutral again, polished. jay is mid-story about something absurd that happened in lab and gesturing wildly. sunoo is holding two drinks and insisting he did not steal them while kazuha quietly points out that he absolutely did. you glance up when jake steps into the circle. your eyes meet for a second. he does not smile. he just nods once in a casual controlled way. you nod back just as casually. he stands slightly to the side of the group, not next to you and not far either. heeseung says something to jungwon and laughs easily. it is normal. there is no visible tension. jake does not react. he listens and waits for an opening in the conversation. when one appears he takes it. “so“ he says lightly while looking at jay “did you even finish the data corrections or were you too busy flirting with the ta.” jay scoffs and says “i finished.” jake tilts his head slightly and replies “did you? because your logic in the second section didn’t track.” the shift is subtle but you feel it immediately. that tone. sharper. competitive. jay rolls his eyes and says “you’re impossible.” jake shrugs and replies “just saying.” then he looks at you briefly and adds “you caught that too, right.” there it is. not aggressive and not accusatory but pointed. you blink once before answering evenly “yes. it was a bit inconsistent.” jay throws his hands up and says “traitors.” the group laughs and jake’s mouth curves faintly. he is back on familiar ground now. competence. precision. control. you watch him carefully. he is acting normal but there is a tightness around his shoulders. he does not look at you longer than necessary and he does not brush your arm accidentally. he does not stand close. he keeps a slight distance like he is recalibrating. sunghoon notices. niki definitely notices.  the conversation drifts to the upcoming research panel and heeseung mentions it casually. “you should both sign up,“ he says while looking between you and jake. “you’d probably destroy it.” jake’s smile tightens slightly before he replies “we’ll see.” you glance at him but he does not meet your eyes. instead he says “it’s competitive.” you answer before you can stop yourself “you like competitive.” he looks at you then for a beat too long and says quietly “yeah. i do.” something in the way he says it makes your stomach tighten. the group starts moving toward the food trucks.

jake walks ahead this time, not next to you and not waiting. he falls into step with jay and jungwon instead, talking and analyzing and debating something minor like it matters. he looks fine. that is what it looks like. fine. you slow slightly without meaning to and eunchae notices immediately. she leans closer and says “he’s doing the thing.” you ask “what thing?” she answers “the ‘i don’t care’ thing.” you swallow. he really does look like he does not care. like last night did not shift anything. like you imagined the tension. across the quad jake keeps talking but his focus is not fully on the conversation. he is aware of where you are. he is aware that you are not beside him. he is aware that you did not try to close the distance. a thought settles more firmly in his mind: she did not actually want me. if you had, you would not be acting this normal. you would not be this unaffected. so he does what he always does when something feels unstable. he sharpens. he becomes precise. he picks apart jay’s argument and corrects jungwon’s phrasing and debates minor details with unnecessary intensity. control feels safer. control feels familiar. control does not leave. niki drifts up beside him and says quietly “you’re overcompensating.” jake exhales slowly and says “it’s not a thing.” niki studies him and asks “then why are you acting like it was.” jake does not answer because he does not have one. sunghoon watches him for another second before saying evenly “just don’t be weird.” jake replies automatically “i’m not being weird.” niki, sounding almost bored now, says again “you are.” jake doesn’t argue this time. he just looks away with his jaw set and starts walking toward the library. the rest of you drift in that direction too. someone mentions reviewing notes before the research panel deadline. someone else complains about being tired.

somehow everyone still ends up in the same study room an hour later. you take your usual seat near the center of the table. jake does not sit beside you. he chooses the chair directly across instead.  laptops open. papers spread. the low hum of academic focus settles in. jay is mid-rant about formatting guidelines. sunoo is pretending to understand citations. kazuha is quietly correcting something on jungwon’s screen. you start first. “if we adjust the threshold earlier in the model” you say while angling your laptop slightly so the others can see “the margin stabilizes without needing a secondary correction.” jay leans in and says “that’s cleaner.” kazuha nods once and adds “it reads stronger.” jake looks at the screen and does not speak for a second. then he says calmly and evenly “that doesn’t work.” you blink and reply “it does.” he tilts his head slightly and says “only if the secondary variable is already aligned.” you answer “it is.” he holds your gaze and says “you didn’t show that.” there is no teasing in his voice and no smirk and no warmth. just correction. you sit up straighter and say “it’s implied.” jake continues to hold your gaze and replies “implied isn’t enough.” the room shifts almost imperceptibly. jay glances between you. sunoo goes very quiet. you feel the difference. this is not your usual academic sparring. this does not feel playful. “i can clarify it” you say evenly. jake nods once and responds “yeah, you should.” it is not loud and not aggressive but it lands harder than it should. you add the clarification without looking at him. across the table he does not look away. niki leans back slowly and watches jake with narrowed eyes. sunghoon finally says in a casual but pointed tone “enough, jake.” jake shrugs and replies “it’s for the panel.” but niki answers “come on man, it was fine.” it was not about the panel. it was about control and precision and something that happened against a dorm wall that he cannot categorize. you close your laptop a little too sharply and say “i’ll adjust the whole section later.” kazuha adds gently “you don’t have to rewrite it.” you reply “i want to.” jake’s fingers pause over his keyboard for half a second. he did not mean to push it that far. he just wanted something he cannot quite define. the room settles into a strained quiet until jay eventually breaks it by asking sunoo about something irrelevant. conversation resumes but softer and thinner. you keep your eyes on your screen for the rest of the time you’re there.

the days after that study session pass quietly. not dramatically. just… thinner. you don’t see him much, or maybe you do, but only in passing-across lecture halls, at the edge of the quad, through the reflection of library windows. you don’t sit next to him anymore. he doesn’t sit next to you either. no one comments on it, but everyone notices. the group chat stays active with memes, complaints, and scheduling. he replies normally, and so do you. you don’t text him privately. he doesn’t text you either. and that silence sits heavier than it should. you tell yourself it’s fine. you tell yourself it’s easier this way. you tell yourself you don’t miss the way he used to argue with you like it was a sport. you absolutely do. today, though, you don’t have the option of avoidance. you have to meet him. the project deadline is close enough that pretending doesn’t work anymore. you stare at the calendar reminder for a second longer than necessary before grabbing your bag. you don’t want to go, not because you’re scared, but because you don’t know which version of him you’re getting- the competitive one, the sharp one, the quiet one, or the one who was ready to fuck you like it wasn’t theory anymore.

he’s already in the study room when you walk in. of course he is. laptop open, notes spread neatly, posture straight-controlled. he looks up when the door clicks shut, and your eyes meet for half a second before he nods and says, “hey.” you answer, “hi“ and take the seat across from him, not beside but across. the distance feels intentional even though neither of you comments on it. silence stretches while you open your laptop until he breaks it by saying evenly, “i reworked the introduction. it was too repetitive.” you nod and reply, “okay.” he turns his screen slightly so you can see, and you lean forward just enough to read it. it’s good-precise, structured, cold. “it’s cleaner“ you say, and he nods once and replies, “yeah.” that’s it. no teasing, no smug comment, no competitive spark-just agreement. you scroll through your section and say, “i clarified the model alignment.” he responds, “i saw.” you glance up and find he’s already looking at you, so you look back down as he adds, “good.” something about the word feels smaller than it should. you both work in silence for a few minutes, the clicking of keyboards louder than usual. at some point, you say, “we should probably tighten the transition here“ and he doesn’t argue but just nods and says, “yeah.” you blink, almost missing the way he used to challenge everything you said, almost missing the way you’d argue back without hesitation. now everything feels careful, measured, like you’re both avoiding stepping on something fragile.

he scrolls through your section again, slower this time, then says, “this part could be stronger.” it’s not sharp, but it’s still a correction. you straighten slightly and ask, “how?” he replies, “it reads safe. you’re usually more direct.” that lands. you look at him properly for the first time since you walked in and ask, “what does that mean?” he shrugs lightly and says, “it just feels… restrained.” you hold his gaze and reply quietly, “you’ve been restrained too.” the words sit between you, and he looks away first this time. “i’m just focused” he says. “so am i” you answer. silence settles again, thicker now. he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. you notice the tension there, and he notices you noticing, so you look down at your screen again. across the table, something shifts in him. you’re not fighting him. you’re not pushing back. you’re not smiling sarcastically. you’re just calm, detached. you’re fine. you’re fine. she‘s fine. you don’t care. you don’t want-no. he swallows and looks at his screen again before saying, “let’s just finish this section.” you nod, and you both work for another ten minutes without speaking. when you finally close your laptop, it’s almost abrupt. “i have to go“ you say. he looks up quickly and responds, “oh.” it’s small, but it’s there. “we’re almost done…” he adds. “i know“ you reply as you stand. you hesitate for half a second. he could say something. he doesn’t. “see you“ you say. “yeah“ he answers. you walk out, and the door clicks shut behind you. he stays seated, staring at the empty chair across from him. it wasn’t better. it wasn’t worse. it was just… distant. he leans back slowly. you’re fine. you’re fine without me. we‘re both fine. you don’t care. i don’t want- no. that’s not it. but he doesn’t know what it is. you don’t either.

the hallway outside the study room feels colder than it should. you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder and walk faster than necessary, like distance will make something settle. you replay the entire hour in your head: the way he didn’t argue, the way he did argue, the way he called you restrained, the way he wouldn’t look at you for too long. it wasn’t hostile. it wasn’t warm either. it was careful. and careful feels wrong. so wrong for some reason. you step outside into the evening air and spot sunoo sitting on the low stone wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone with dramatic concentration. he looks up when he hears your footsteps and says, “you look like you just finished a breakup.” you stop and reply, “that’s aggressive.” he shrugs and says, “but you do“ you hesitate before walking over and sitting beside him. “how was it?” he asks casually. “productive,..” you reply automatically. he gives you a look, and you correct yourself by saying, “awkward.”- “ah” he responds. you stare straight ahead at the quad, watching people cross between buildings in the soft evening light. “he’s being weird“ you say finally. sunoo tilts his head and asks, “weird how?”- “different“ you answer. “too controlled. or too distant. or both.” sunoo hums thoughtfully and says, “he’s been quiet.” you glance at him and ask, “with everyone?” - “not exactly“ he replies. “just… sharper. like he’s trying too hard not to be.” you frown slightly because that makes uncomfortable sense. “he keeps correcting me“ you admit. “that’s not new“ sunoo says. “no,“ you reply, shaking your head slightly. “it is. it’s not the same.” sunoo studies you more carefully now and asks, “did something happen?” you look away. you could lie. you don’t. “we kinda kissed“ you say quietly. sunoo’s entire posture straightens as he says, “you what.” - “it wasn’t planned“ you explain. “when?” he presses. “after the arcade.” his mouth opens slightly as he asks, “and?” - “and nothing“ you say too quickly. he narrows his eyes and says, “that’s not how that works.” - “we were really drunk“ you reply. “were you?” he asks. you pause. sunoo’s expression softens immediately as he says, “oh.” you exhale slowly and explain, “he said we were drunk. i agreed. and then he’s just… been like this.”- “like what?” sunoo asks. “like it didn’t matter“ you answer. sunoo considers that before saying, “he doesn’t look like it didn’t matter.” you blink and ask, “what does that mean?” - “he looks like he’s overthinking“ sunoo replies. “not indifferent.” you look down at your hands. “he feels distant“ you say quietly. sunoo nudges your shoulder lightly and says, “maybe he’s confused.”- “great, so am i” you admit. that hangs there. you replay the way jake looked at you tonight across the table, the way he paused when you stood up, the way he said, “oh.” it wasn’t nothing. but it wasn’t enough either. “i don’t know what he wants” you admit. sunoo smiles faintly and says, “that makes two of you.” you let out a small breath that almost feels like a laugh. the quad lights flicker on one by one as the sun lowers. you don’t feel angry. you feel unsettled. because something shifted.

the days after that study session don’t explode. they settle, which is somehow worse. you don’t fight. you don’t flirt. you don’t fix anything. you just exist in the same spaces slightly apart. in lectures, he sits two seats away now. not directly across. not beside. just… offset, like neither of you are claiming anything. you catch him looking at you once in the reflection of the classroom window. he looks away before you can be sure. you stop checking after that. it’s easier. you tell yourself that. this morning feels heavier than usual. the sky is dull and overcast, the air cool enough that you pull your sleeves over your hands as you walk toward the building. the reminder about today’s discussion still lingers in the back of your mind. the professor mentioned it last week: cold-calling, open floor analysis. jake thrives in those settings. he always has. you don’t know why that thought tightens something in your chest. when you step into the lecture hall, he’s already there. that focused, controlled stillness he wears like armor. he looks up when you enter, just briefly. his eyes pause on you half a second longer than neutral, then he looks back down. you sit three seats to the side this time. not too far. not close. just enough to keep things unspoken. the room fills gradually. sunoo slides into the seat behind you and whispers, “you look stressed.”- “i’m not“ you reply. he mutters, “you say that like you’re auditioning for something“ clearly mocking jake’s tone. you can’t really laugh at that. across the aisle, jake closes his laptop for a second and rolls his shoulders back, like he’s bracing for something. you notice the movement. you shouldn’t. but you do. he looks tired. not visibly. not dramatically. just… tight.

the professor walks in exactly on time, placing her bag on the desk with the kind of calm precision that signals today will not be passive. she scans the room and says, “i hope you reviewed the reading. we’re doing discussion differently today.” a ripple of quiet moves through the hall. she writes a question on the board. it’s layered, the kind of question that invites complexity but punishes overcomplication. you read it once. twice. your brain starts mapping an answer. before anyone else speaks, jake does. his voice is steady. confident. “it hinges on structural misalignment within the model’s assumptions“ he begins, leaning back slightly in his chair like this is familiar territory. you don’t look at him immediately. you focus on the board. but you hear the shift in his tone. measured. calculated. he’s in control. he continues, dissecting the framework piece by piece. it’s articulate. logical. thorough. maybe too thorough. the professor tilts her head slightly. you notice that too. he keeps going, layering complexity on top of complexity, pulling threads from earlier readings and weaving them into something ambitious. the room is quiet. listening. he finishes with, “so the instability isn’t accidental. it’s embedded.” silence lingers for a second. the professor nods slowly and says, “that’s an interesting angle, but that’s not what i asked.” the words land softly but clearly. you look up now. jake’s expression doesn’t change immediately. “i understood the question“ he replies calmly. his tone is still composed, but there’s something under it. thin. tight. the professor’s gaze sharpens just slightly as she says, “then answer it.” the room goes still. you feel your pulse pick up. he adjusts in his seat and says, “i did.”- “no,“ she replies evenly. “you reframed it.” that’s when you see it. the smallest crack. his jaw tightens. he inhales. across the aisle, sunoo goes very quiet. you look at jake fully now. not because you want to. because you feel it happening. he straightens slightly, leaning forward this time, and says, “the reframing is necessary. the premise is flawed without it.” the professor folds her arms lightly and replies, “you’re avoiding the constraint.” the air shifts. this isn’t playful debate. this is precision meeting resistance. jake doesn’t back down. “you can’t isolate the variable without addressing-”- “that’s not what i asked“ she repeats. silence. the kind that presses against your ears.

you watch him calculate. you see him choosing. he could pivot. he doesn’t. “then the question is incomplete“ he says. a few people glance at each other. it’s subtle. but it’s there. the professor’s expression doesn’t change, but her voice lowers slightly as she says, “or you are.” that lands. the room holds its breath. you feel something twist in your chest. he doesn’t look at you. he stares at the front of the room, posture rigid now. and for the first time in a long time, he looks… cornered. he opens his mouth to answer again. and you know, before he says anything, that this is where control starts slipping. the room is still. you can hear the faint hum of the projector above the board. you can feel everyone waiting. he leans forward slightly, his voice sharper now as he says, “the constraint ignores structural dependency. if you isolate it without reframing-”- “that wasn’t the task“ the professor interrupts. it’s not harsh. it’s worse than harsh. it’s calm. and final. a flicker passes over his face, too quick for most people to catch. you catch it. he shifts in his chair. you can see the choice happening, pivot or push. he pushes. “the dependency matters“ he insists. “you can’t evaluate the output without-” - “you’re overcomplicating it“ she says evenly. “just answer the question.” silence presses down again, heavier this time. you don’t look at him, but you feel him unraveling. he exhales through his nose, barely audible, his fingers tapping once against the edge of his desk. he answers again, shorter this time, more direct, but it’s off, just slightly, not disastrous but not right. the professor pauses, then says, “that’s incorrect.” the words settle into the room like dust. no one moves. you don’t either. your eyes stay on your notebook, but your focus is gone. you know that tone. you know what that means. it’s not humiliation. it’s precision correction. but for him, it’s exposure. he doesn’t respond immediately. he just sits there, still, then evenly says, “i don’t think it is.” it’s quiet, but defensive now. the professor tilts her head and replies, “it is, jake. it’s wrong.” there’s no anger in her voice, just certainty. a few people glance toward him. no one says anything. he doesn’t look at you, not once, and that makes something twist tighter in your chest because you know he feels it. he hates being wrong publicly. he hates losing footing. he hates slipping. you tell yourself to stay out of it. he doesn’t need you. he won’t want you. he’ll think you’re- no, you can‘t.

you hesitate.

your fingers press against the edge of your desk. the pause stretches too long. he inhales again, sharper this time. “i see what you’re saying“ he says finally, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t. “but that interpretation assumes-” - “it doesn’t,“ she replies calmly. “it assumes clarity.” the word clarity lingers. you look up now, really look at him. his jaw is set. his shoulders tight. he’s not going to pivot. he’s going to dig. and if he digs, this turns into something else. you shouldn’t step in. you know that. he’ll hate it. he’ll feel exposed.

you hesitate again.

one second. two. the silence becomes unbearable, and then you say, steady and careful, “i think what he’s pointing toward is the instability in the output curve.” your voice cuts through the room softly, not loud, not abrupt, just enough. you don’t look at him when you continue. “if you isolate the variable without reframing the dependency, the margin collapses. but if you assume the constraint holds, then the output stabilizes.” you keep your tone neutral, clinical. you don’t frame it as correction. you frame it as translation. the professor turns toward you and asks, “and does the constraint hold?”- “yes,“ you reply evenly. “because the instability he’s describing only appears under secondary alignment failure, which wasn’t part of the original condition.” silence again, but this time it’s different. the professor nods once and says, “exactly.” the word lands cleanly. the room exhales. you don’t. you keep your eyes on the front of the room. you don’t look at him. you don’t need to. you can feel it. across the aisle, he doesn’t move, not immediately. then you hear it, the faint scrape of his pen against the desk, controlled, measured.

the professor moves on. discussion resumes. other students speak. the tension diffuses, but not for you and not for him, because you know what just happened. you stepped in. you reframed. you fixed it. you gave him an out. and he didn’t look at you. he still doesn’t. he writes something down too hard. the pen scratches louder than it should. you focus on your notes, but you feel the air shift between you. you saw that. you hesitated. you stepped in anyway. he didn’t need any help. no. he swallows. he keeps his eyes on the board. i’m fine. you don’t care. you didn’t want to- no. that’s not it. the professor calls on someone else. the room moves forward. but something in him has already slipped. discussion moves forward. other students offer comments. the tension in the room thins slightly, though it never fully disappears. you keep your focus forward. you don’t look at him. you don’t need to. you can feel him recalibrating, writing too hard, too straight, too still. a few minutes later, the professor circles back. “as y/n pointed out“ she says, glancing in your direction, “the instability only manifests under secondary misalignment. that’s why isolating the variable works within the original constraint.” the word she hangs in the air longer than necessary. a couple students nod. jay murmurs something like, “that makes sense.” and that’s it. but for jake, it’s the second hit. you don’t move. you don’t react. but across the aisle, something in him shifts. he straightens slightly in his chair, too abruptly. the professor continues, “which is also why reframing the premise isn’t required in this case.” reframing. his word. his word used to dismiss the necessity of his answer. you feel it before you hear it, the change in his breathing. then his voice cuts in. “that depends on how rigidly you interpret the premise.” it’s controlled, but thinner now. the professor pauses. “it depends on the question“ she replies. “the question was incomplete“ he says. there it is. not loud. not explosive. just sharper than it needs to be. a few heads turn. the professor studies him for a second and says, “it wasn’t.” silence again. he doesn’t let it go. “you restricted it.“ he says. “and you expanded it,“ she counters calmly. “beyond the scope.” the room is still. you can feel sunoo behind you tense. you don’t turn around. you keep your eyes forward. jake exhales sharply through his nose and says, “that’s not the same thing.”- “it is“ she replies. “and if you can’t operate within constraint, you’ll keep missing the point.” that lands harder than the first correction. missing the point.

you see it happen in real time. his posture shifts. his fingers curl around his pen. he doesn’t look at you. not once. he looks at the board, then at the professor, then down at his notes. and then he closes his notebook too hard. the sound cuts through the room. no one speaks. he stands up. not dramatically. not with a slam. just sudden. “i need a minute“ he says. his tone is flat, controlled, but his jaw is tight. the professor doesn’t stop him. no one does. he grabs his bag, walks toward the door, and he doesn’t look at you. not when he passes your row. not when the door opens. not when it shuts behind him. the room exhales after he leaves. the professor waits a second, then says, “all right.” discussion resumes, but it’s softer, thinner. you stare at the empty space where he was sitting. your chest feels tight. not because he was wrong. not because you were right. because he looked like he was unraveling. and he wouldn’t let you see it. you don’t take notes for the rest of the class. you don’t hear the rest of what the professor says. you register words. you don’t process them. your pen moves once or twice across the page out of habit, but the lines are useless, half-formed sentences that don’t connect to anything. the seat he vacated feels louder than the discussion that resumes. he didn’t look at you. not once. you replay that detail over and over like it matters more than everything else. when class finally ends, chairs scrape against the floor in staggered rhythm. conversations spark up in low, cautious tones, like everyone is aware something just shifted but no one wants to be the first to name it. sunoo appears at your side almost immediately. he doesn’t say anything at first. he just stands there. you close your notebook slowly. “that was…” he starts.- “yeah“ you answer before he finishes. you both look toward the door. he’s not there. of course he’s not. jay approaches next, more careful than usual. “is he okay?” sunoo asks. you don’t know how to answer that. “he’ll cool off,“ jay says quickly, as if trying to reassure himself more than you. “he just hates being wrong.” you nod once. but it wasn’t just about being wrong.  sunghoon joins the small circle now, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. “he shouldn’t have pushed it“ he says. “yeah,“ you say quietly. “he shouldn’t have.” there’s no satisfaction in your voice. no triumph. the hallway outside fills quickly as everyone filters out. you take your time packing up, even though there’s no reason to. you could leave. you could pretend it wasn’t personal. you could let him sit in whatever that was. but the thought of him spiraling alone irritates you more than it should. “he’ll be outside“ sunghoon says, almost like he read your mind. you glance at him. sunghoon shrugs slightly and adds, “he doesn’t go far.” you hesitate. then you stand. you don’t announce that you’re going after him. you just do.

the hallway air feels cooler than the classroom did. students move around you in clusters, unaware of the tightness sitting in your chest. you scan the corridor. he isn’t there. you walk farther down, past the vending machines, past the stairwell, and then you see him at the end of the hallway near the windows, standing still, hands on his hips, looking out over the quad like the world personally offended him. you slow your steps. for a second, you consider turning around. you don’t. you walk up beside him, not too close, not far either. he doesn’t look at you. “i didn’t need help“ he says. you hadn’t spoken yet. “i didn’t say you did“ you reply evenly. he lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “you stepped in.” there’s no gratitude in it. just tension. “you were about to argue in circles“ you say calmly. “she wasn’t going to let you.” - “i had it“ he insists. “you didn’t.” the words come out sharper than you intended. he turns his head slightly now, not enough to fully face you but enough. “you think i can’t handle it?” he asks. “that’s not what i said.“- “it’s is.“- “i clarified,“ you reply. “that’s all.” his jaw tightens. “right.” the single word drips with something you don’t recognize. you exhale slowly. “why are you acting like i’m trying to put you down?” he finally looks at you fully now, and there’s something raw in his expression, not anger, not exactly, wounded pride. “you aren’t“ he says. “but jake, that’s not how you’re acting.” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “you made it worse.” you blink. “how?” - “you translated me“ he says. “like i couldn’t say it right.” the accusation stings more than it should. “i was trying to help.” - “i don’t need your help”- “i know.” silence stretches again.

students pass behind you, unaware of the charged air between you. he looks away first. “i’m not incompetent“ he says quietly. you stare at him. “i never said you were.”- “but you hesitated“ he says. that stops you. you hesitate again now. he continues, voice low. “you waited y/n.” because you did. you waited. because you knew he wouldn’t want you to step in. because you knew he’d take it personally. because you were trying to decide if helping him would hurt him more. “that doesn’t mean i think you’re incompetent“ you say. “it means you thought i couldn’t recover“ he counters. you swallow. “you were pushing,“ you say carefully. “and she wasn’t going to bend.” he laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “so you have to step in?” -“yes.” he nods once, slow. “i don’t want you to do that.” the words feel loaded. “do what?” you ask. “fix it.” - “i wasn’t fixing you“ you say. “i was just finishing your thought.” - “that’s worse.” you stare at him. “why?” you ask. “because it makes it look like i needed you to.” you don’t know how to respond to that because the truth is you don’t care how it looked. you cared that he was digging himself deeper. “i didn’t do it for them,“ you say quietly. “i did it because you were about to make it worse for yourself.” he looks at you again. something flickers in his expression, confusion, hurt, maybe even something softer. then it shutters closed. “i don’t need your saving“ he says. “i wasn’t saving you.” - “then why do you care?” he asks suddenly. the question lands harder than anything else. you inhale. “because i do.” the words leave your mouth before you filter them. the hallway noise fades for a second. he stares at you, not defensive now, not sharp, just still. “i don’t want you to care“ he says quietly. and that’s what cracks something inside you. “you don’t get to decide that“ you reply. his jaw tightens again. he steps back slightly, like the proximity is too much. “drop it“ he says. “i’m not trying to fight you.” you answer. - “i know.” - “then stop acting like i’m the problem.” he looks at you for a long second, then away. “i’m not“ he says. but he is. and you both know it. you don’t say anything else because you’re not going to beg him to tell you what’s wrong. you turn and start walking back down the hallway. he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t call your name. doesn’t move.

a few days later the rehearsal room is mostly empty when you walk in. a standard seminar space with stackable chairs pushed against the walls and a long rectangular table cutting the center in half like a line neither of you are supposed to cross. the projector is already on, the first slide washed-out blue against the whiteboard. it’s early evening. the light outside the tall windows has turned that flat, colorless gray that makes everything look less defined. the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. the air smells faintly like dry erase marker and old ventilation. jake is already at the front. his laptop is open, sleeves pushed up, clicking through the slides slowly and deliberately, not reviewing, inspecting. a neat stack of printed notes sits beside him, edges aligned so precisely it looks intentional. he doesn’t look rushed. he looks braced. when the door shuts behind you, he glances up just once and gives a small nod without smiling before turning back to the screen, as if the slide matters more than the timing of you walking in. you take the seat across from him without thinking about it, not beside, across. you set your bag down and open your laptop. the room hums with the projector, the trackpad, your breathing. it should feel routine. it doesn’t. it feels like something is being held in place carefully and deliberately, and neither of you are testing how much pressure it can take. he clicks back to the first slide again, the one you have already run through twice. starting over will not fix what he is trying to fix. you begin anyway, delivering the same opening sentence in the same measured tone, the one you can summon even when your stomach feels too tight. three lines in, he shifts in his chair. you wait for the interruption. it does not come. that almost throws you more than if it had. you keep going through the dependency chain, the constraint behavior, the margin stabilization under the original premise. you gesture once to the graph without looking at him. you can feel his attention like weight, not casual, not analytical, heavy.

you finish the slide and click to the next one. he says nothing. you click again. still nothing. it is not that he agrees. it is that he is holding himself back. you can almost see it, the restraint, the effort not to correct you, not to adjust phrasing, not to sharpen something just to feel in control again. you reach the end of your section without being stopped. your hand lowers, the clicker still in it. you turn. jake is watching the screen, his jaw tight. not angry. contained. that is worse. you set the clicker down carefully. the sound is too loud in the quiet. “so, what now?” you ask in a neutral tone. he blinks once, like he forgot you were there and is recalibrating. “now we run it together“ jake replies. “okay“ you say. he stands. you meet him at the front, not close enough that your shoulders touch, but close enough that you hear the subtle change in his breathing when you step into his space. he has always been good at presenting. he speaks like nerves do not exist, like words are tools and he owns the entire workshop. today it sounds the same, until you listen for what is not there. half a beat too fast in the middle of a sentence. a breath pulled in sharper than necessary when he transitions to the section he was challenged on in class. a pause, small, almost invisible.no one else would catch it. you do. you watch his hands instead of the slide. his fingers flex once at his side, then still. he gets through the section that tripped him up earlier, his voice steady, his pacing controlled, his precision intact. but something underneath it is bracing. when he finishes, he glances at you, brief and almost involuntary, then looks away immediately, like eye contact would confirm something he is not ready to name. “your turn“ jake says, and you pick up from his slide, matching his tone automatically. for a moment, it almost feels normal. coordinated. familiar. then you reach the line he edited earlier. “when the constraint collapses-” you say, and the phrasing feels wrong in your mouth, not incorrect, just not yours. jake’s gaze lifts immediately, but you keep going. you can feel him listening, not for clarity, not for argument, but for deviation, for control. you finish the slide and let the silence sit until he nods once and says, “good.” it does not feel like approval. it feels like a checkbox.

you set the clicker down and ask, “are we done?” he glances at his notes and replies, “we should run it again.” you lift your shoulders slightly and ask, “why?” jake answers, “timing matters.” you reply, “we’re on time.” he says, “i want it clean.” you answer, “it was clean.” he meets your eyes and adds, “it can be cleaner.” you hold his gaze without raising your voice and ask, “why are you like this right now?” his jaw tightens slightly before he replies, “like what?” you gesture vaguely at the slides, the edits, the way he is hovering over every sentence, and say, “like you’re sanding everything down until it doesn’t sound like me”. he answers “it’s supposed to sound like the project”. you reply evenly, “it is the project and i’m part of it”. he says “i know“ too fast, and you study him before asking, “do you?” his eyes flick away and he reaches for his notebook instead, saying, “we need to tighten the conclusion.” you do not move. he flips a page like the paper can shield him and adds, “if we shorten the final section, we can emphasize the model alignment“ still refusing to look at you. you watch him retreat into structure in real time and say, “jake.” he stops flipping pages but keeps his eyes down and answers, “what?” you ask quietly, “are you okay?” the question lands heavy. he does not look up when he says, “yeah. i’m fine.” there it is. you do not argue. you just nod and say, “okay.” the word shifts something. he glances up then, quick and searching, like he expected resistance, but you give him none. you sit back down and open your laptop. the room feels too large. he keeps writing, too deliberately.

you scroll to the final slide and notice something has changed. you point at the screen and say, “this isn’t what i wrote.” he finally looks up and says, “it’s better.” you reply, “it’s just different.” he holds your gaze and says, “different isn’t always bad.” you let out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh and answer, “it’s not just different...” his expression hardens as he asks, “what do you want me to say?” the bluntness catches you and you respond, “what?” he gestures at the room and says, “you keep looking at me like i’m doing something. i’m rehearsing.” you stare at him and reply, “you’re not just rehearsing.” his eyes sharpen as he asks, “then what am i doing?” you hesitate because the real answer is not about slides and say, “you’re controlling.” his jaw flexes and he replies, “i’m preparing.” you say more softly, “no. you’re controlling.” silence settles between you. the projector hum feels louder. he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated not at you but at himself, and starts, “can we just-” before stopping. you do not help him. you do not fill the silence. you let the unfinished sentence sit between you. he swallows, and for a second his expression slips, not anger, not pride, something thinner, before he blinks it away and says steadily, “let’s run the conclusion.” you nod slowly and say, “okay.” you stand, pick up the clicker, and move back into the projector light. he joins you but not fully. he stays just outside the brightest edge, like he does not want to be entirely exposed. you start the conclusion, your voice steady. he does not interrupt. you reach the line you softened, the one about implications, about how the model behaves in real conditions, about what it suggests beyond the data, and you deliver it the way you wrote it. jake shifts, not an interruption, a recoil. you keep going.

when you finish, you turn to him and ask, “any issues?” he opens his mouth, then closes it. his eyes flick to your face, then away. “no. keep going“ jake says, too flat. you do not move. “you didn’t like that part“ you say quietly. his shoulders stiffen. “it’s fine“ he replies. “apparently it’s not“ you answer. his eyes lift sharply and he snaps, “stop psychoanalyzing me.” you freeze. “i’m not“ you say. “you are“ jake says, his jaw tightening. “you keep asking if i’m okay like i’m-” he cuts himself off. the room goes still. you keep your voice low and say, “i didn’t say anything.”- “you don’t have to“ he replies. silence stretches between you. you take a slow breath and say, “you’re acting different.” - “so are you“ jake says. that lands harder. “how?” you ask. he hesitates just enough. “you’re distant“ he says. you blink once, slow, and keep your face neutral, like that will stop your throat from tightening. “you’ve been distant“ you reply. “i’m here“ he says. “so am i“ you answer. he exhales through his nose, frustrated and cornered, and asks, “then why does it feel like you’re not?” the question is not sharp. it is tired. you look at him carefully and say, “maybe because you keep treating everything like it’s fragile.” his eyes narrow. “i’m not,“ he says. “i’m trying not to let it slip“ - “what?” you ask. he does not answer. instead he says, “we’re wasting time.” you nod once and say, “we are.” he glances at you, startled, like he expected resistance. you do not give it. you sit down and open your laptop.

he stays standing too long, like he is deciding whether to say something else. he does not. he sits back harder than necessary, posture rigid. outside, the campus darkens. streetlights flick on. the window reflects both of you in faint blue, two silhouettes separated by a table stacked with notes. you make a small edit to the conclusion. he watches your cursor move, then looks away quickly. silence again. he flips to the next slide. you have run it three times. he adjusts a bullet point, then another. you do not look at the screen. you look at him. he feels it. “timing was off“ jake says without turning. “it wasn’t“ you reply. “it was“ he says. “by how much?” you ask. “three seconds“ he answers. you blink and ask, “three seconds?”- “yes“ jake says. you stare at him. he is serious, the cursor hovering over the timeline like it personally offended him. “that’s what we’re doing. three seconds“ you say quietly. “it adds up“ he replies. “we won’t run long“ you say. “we might“ he counters. “that’s not the same thing“ you reply. “it matters“ he says. “it’s three seconds“ you answer. “it’s discipline“ jake says. that word lands wrong. your shoulders stiffen. “discipline?” you repeat. “yes“ he says. “since when is this about discipline?” you ask. “it always is“ he replies. “don’t bullshit me,“ you say evenly. “it’s about control.” his head snaps toward you. “it’s about structure y/n“ he says. “you’re hiding in it“ you answer. the air shifts. his jaw tightens. “i’m not hiding“ jake says. “you are“ you reply. “i’m making sure we don’t fail“ he says. “we won’t“ you answer. “you don’t know that“ he says. “i know you“ you say. the words leave before you can filter them. he goes still. “i know you,“ you repeat, softer now. “you don’t need to grind this down to prove you’re in control.” something cracks, not loud but visible. “i don’t get to lose control.“ jake says. the admission is quiet. too honest. you stare at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. he swallows. “nothing“ he says. that is a lie. you both know it. he looks away first. “run it again“ he says. you do not move. “no“ you reply. he blinks. “no?” he asks. “it’s good“ you say. “we don’t settle for good“ he replies. “maybe you don’t“ you answer. that lands. he studies you like he is trying to see what changed. “are you pulling back?” jake asks quietly. you hold his gaze before answering, “i’m adjusting.” - “to what?” he presses. you hesitate, then say, “to you.” that lands, and his expression shifts, subtle but real. “that’s not an answer” jake says. “it is,” you reply. “you’ve been on edge. i’m not going to keep pushing if you’re going to treat everything like a threat.” silence stretches, his jaw tightening before he says, “let’s just finish.” back to structure. back to safety. “you’re not tightening the timing,” you say. “you’re suffocating it.” he doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw flexing once before he says, “run it again.” now the presentation argument feels connected to the emotional one. you don’t move.

“jake,” you say.  “what?” he replies. “you’re obsessing,” you tell him. “i’m preparing.” he answers. “no. you’re obsessing.” you say quietly. his fingers tap once against the trackpad, controlled and sharp. “you’re rushing the emphasis“ he says. “i’m not“ you reply. “you are“ he insists. “i’ve presented before“ you say. “so have i“ jake answers. “and?” you press. “and we don’t hedge“ he says. “i’m not hedging“ you counter. “you are“ he replies. “by breathing?” you ask. “by softening the line“ he says. you stare at him. “you’re hearing what you want to hear“ you say. he closes the laptop halfway, then opens it again. “you didn’t emphasize the model alignment“ jake says. “you’re looking for problems“ you answer. “i’m fixing them“ he replies. “there weren’t any“ you say. “there were.“ he insists. silence presses in. you set the clicker down slowly and ask, “why are you acting like i did something wrong?” the question is calm. that makes it worse. he doesn’t look up. “i’m not“ he says. “you are“ you reply. “i’m correcting“ he says. “you’re dissecting.“ you counter. “that’s the point“ he replies. “no. that’s not the point“ you say, your voice dropping slightly. he leans back. “you’ve been different“ jake says. your grip tightens aroung the clicker until the plastic edge bites your finger. “what?“ you ask. “since heeseung’s party“ he says. you keep your face neutral. “in what way?” you ask. “you don’t argue anymore“ he replies. “i do“ you say. “barely. you just agree“ he says. “i’m choosing when to push“ you answer. “you never used to“ he replies. “you never used to nitpick three seconds“ you say. his jaw flexes. “you’ve been careful“ he says. “careful how?” you ask. “like you’re afraid to push“ he replies. “afraid of what?” you ask. “you tell me“ he says. the accusation under it is unmistakable now. “you’ve been sharp“ you say. “no, i’ve been focused“ he replies. “you’ve been distant“ you say. “you have“ he answers. “you pulled back first“ you say. “no“ he replies. “yes“ you insist. he exhales, frustrated. “you froze“ jake says. you go still. “i didn’t“ you reply. “you did“ he says. “i was thinking“ you answer. “it didn’t look like thinking“ he replies. that’s the first real hit. you hold his gaze. “you don’t get to rewrite it“ you say. he runs a hand through his hair, this time not controlled. “you hesitated“ he says. “and you don’t?” you ask. he goes quiet. “that’s not the point“ jake says. “it is if you’re bringing it up“ you reply. “i’m not bringing it up“ he says. “you just did“ you answer. the room feels smaller now. “you’ve been different since that night“ jake says again, lower. “you keep saying that“ you reply. “because it’s true“ he says. “how?” you ask. “you look at me like you’re calculating something“ he replies. “maybe i am“ you say. “why?” he asks.

you could say it. you don’t. instead you say, “because you fucking cried in my car.” there it is. he stills completely. “and then you acted like nothing happened“ you continue. his throat shifts. “i didn’t act like nothing happened“ he says. “you did“ you reply. “i just didn’t turn it into something“ he says. “it already was something“ you answer. “for you“ he says. “for both of us“ you reply. he looks away. “you’ve been careful with me. like i’m breakable“ jake says. you stare at him. “that’s not true“ you say. “yes, it is“ he replies. “you think i see you as fragile?” you ask. “yes,“ he answers. the answer is immediate. no defense. no delay. it hits. “you’re always stepping in“ he says. “because you were spiraling“ you reply. “i wasn’t“ he says. “you were“ you answer. he pushes his chair back slightly. “i had it“ jake says. “and you’ve been punishing me for it ever since“ you say. that lands. “i’m not punishing you“ he insists. silence again. heavy now. the fluorescent lights hum. outside, the sky is fully dark. “you don’t get to decide how i see you“ you say finally. he looks at you. “and you don’t get to decide i needed saving,“ jake replies. neither of you moves. “i don’t need you to manage me“ he says. it’s not loud. but it cracks. “i wasn’t managing you“ you reply. “it felt like you were“ he says. you step closer without thinking. “it felt like you were pretending nothing mattered“ you say. his breath catches. “it does matter“ he replies. “then stop acting like it doesn’t“ you say. the words hang there. he looks at you, really looks at you, and for a split second the control drops. not anger. not pride. fear. then it’s gone. “you’ve been weird“ jake says, and you immediately reply, “stop saying it like that.” he tilts his head slightly and asks, “like what?” you answer, “like everything changed because of me.” he says simply, “it did.” you go still. “what?” you ask. “you changed“ he says. “so did you“ you counter. “because you did first“ he insists. “jake“ you say, your voice sharpening. “you fucking cried in my car.” he flinches, small and real, and you continue, quieter now, “and then you kissed me, and then you acted like it was just-” - “just what?” he cuts in. “circumstantial“ you finish. “we were drunk“ jake says. “that’s not the point“ you reply. “then what is?” he asks. “you pulled away afterwards“ you say. “so did you“ he answers. “i didn’t“ you insist. “you froze“ he says. “i hesitated“ you correct. jake’s jaw tightens as he answers, “same fucking thing“. “no,“ you say, your voice tightening. “i hesitated because i was trying to figure out if you were going to regret it.” that lands. he goes completely still. “i never said i would“ jake says. “you didn’t have to“ you answer. silence stretches. “i don’t regret things,“ jake says quietly. you look at him. “and that’s not even what this is about“ he adds quickly, like he exposed too much. you say, “you’ve been acting like i embarrassed you.” - “you didn‘t,“ he replies. “you translated me“ he adds. “because you were digging yourself deeper“ you answer. “that wasn’t your job“ he says. “maybe i wanted it to be“ you reply. the words hang heavier than you meant them to. his eyes lift slowly. “you don’t have to fix me“ jake says. “i wasn’t fixing you“ you reply. “it felt like it“ he says. “it felt like you were self-destructing“ you answer. he inhales sharply at that. “i really don’t need you babysitting me“ jake says. “i’m not babysitting you. what’s up with you? why are you acting like this?“ you reply.

his jaw tightens. “i don’t like feeling like i needed you“ he says. there it is. no anger. just stripped. you don’t move. “i never thought you needed me“ you say quietly. “but you hesitated“ he says. “and you’ve been acting like that meant something“ you reply. “it did“ he says. he looks at you fully now. “it felt like you were deciding whether i was worth stepping in for“ he says. the room goes quiet. “what? that’s not what i was doing“ you say. “it looked like it“ he replies. you swallow. “you think i was evaluating you?” you ask. “yes“ he answers immediately. you shake your head once. “that’s insane“ you say. “it’s fucking obvious“ he replies. “to who?” you ask. “to me“ he says, and looks away the second he says it. you exhale slowly. “in class“ he says. “that’s what you’re talking about?“ you reply. he doesn’t answer. “i paused because i knew you’d hate it“ you say. his eyes snap up. “so you knew?“ he says. “yes“ you reply. “i knew you’d take it personally. i waited to see if you could turn it around.”- “and you decided i couldn’t“ he says. “no“ you answer, leaning forward slightly. “i decided you were going to keep arguing and make it worse.” - “that’s basically the same thing“ he says. “it’s not“ you reply. his gaze drops to your hands on the table. “you don’t get it“ jake says. “then explain it“ you answer. he hesitates. you don’t rescue him. he exhales, frustrated. “when you look at me like that-” he starts. “like what?” you ask. “like you’re measuring“ he says. the word lands heavy. “i wasn’t measuring you“ you reply. “you were,“ he insists. “you do it when you’re trying to figure out if something is worth the risk“ you go quiet, because that’s not entirely wrong. his voice drops. “you looked at me like i was a calculation“ jake says. the fluorescent lights hum. you stare at him. “i wasn’t calculating you“ you say. “be for real y/n.“ he replies. silence again. thinner now. “you think i don’t know when i’m spiraling?“ he says quietly. “i think you don’t always see it“ you answer. his jaw tightens. “i don’t need you watching for it“ he says. “i wasn’t watching“ you reply. “i was-” you stop. he catches the silence. “you were what?” jake asks.

you hold his gaze. “i was trying not to lose you in front of everyone“ you say. that one lands harder than anything else. he goes completely still. the control drops for half a second, then snaps back. “i wasn’t lost,“ he says. his voice sharpens. “stop deciding that for me“ - “stop pretending you weren’t“ you reply. silence. heavy. electric. then, quieter, “i don’t need you to translate me“ jake says. “i know“ you reply. “i don’t need you to save me“ he says. “i wasn’t saving you“ you answer. “i don’t need you choosing when i’m worth stepping in for“ he says. that one almost breaks something. you stare at him. “i never once thought you weren’t worth it“ you say. he looks at you, actually looks, and for a second the anger falls away. “i just didn’t want you deciding i couldn’t handle it“ he says. the admission is small. raw. sober. you step closer without meaning to. “i didn’t think you couldn’t handle it“ you say. “then why did you hesitate?” he asks. your voice drops. “because i didn’t know if you’d hate me for it“ you answer. it hangs between you. neither of you moves. the projector flickers faintly. his breathing shifts. you can see the spiral building under his composure now. and he hates that you can see it. his mouth tightens like he’s biting back something sharper. you lean forward slightly. “you want to know what i was thinking during that pause?” - “i already do“ jake mutters. “you don’t,” you say, not looking away. “i was thinking you’d rather argue yourself into a corner than let someone help you.” he flinches. small. real. “i was thinking you’d rather look stubborn than look vulnerable,“ you continue, quieter now. “and i was trying to decide if stepping in would make you hate me more than being corrected would.” silence. his fingers curl against the edge of the notebook. “don’t.“ jake says. “don’t what?” - “talk like you know me.” -“then stop making me fucking guess.” that lands. he looks away sharply. his thumb presses hard into the edge of the table. “it was humiliating.” jake says, almost under his breath. everything stills. not about you. not about the kiss. about class. about being wrong. about losing control. “i know“ you say. his jaw tightens. “you made it worse.” - “how?” you ask. “because you were right,” jake says, the bitterness in it clean. “and she said it like-” he begins, then cuts himself off. you wait. he doesn’t finish. instead he says, “it made me look like i couldn’t do it.” you answer, “you were already being corrected.” - “but i wasn’t done.” he replies. “you were digging” you say. his eyes lift, hard now, and he says, “you think you saved me.” - “i don’t think that.” you answer. “but you did” he insists. “i clarified” you reply. “you always clarify,” jake says, clipped. “you always have the right words. you always-” he stops. “always what, jake?” you ask, your voice comes out too calm. he rubs a hand over his mouth. “i don’t know, you just you don’t get it” jake says. “then explain it” you tell him. he exhales sharply. “when you stepped in,” jake says slowly, “everyone stopped looking at the model and started looking at you.” the words land heavier than you expected. “and i hated that i needed that.” you go still. “i didn’t think you needed it” you say quietly. he looks at you sharply. “you did. that’s  why you hesitated.” you frown slightly. “i hesitated because i knew you’d take it personally,” you say. “not because i thought you couldn’t handle it.” he doesn’t answer.

and that’s when it clicks. it wasn’t about whether he could handle it. it was about the fact that you saw the moment he couldn’t. you swallow. “i wasn’t deciding if you were capable,” you say carefully. “i was deciding if you’d rather fall on your own than let me stand next to you,” that hits. he looks away. “and you’ve been punishing me for that ever since.” you say. “i haven’t” jake insists. “you have” you answer. he stands suddenly, not violent, just too fast, and the chair scrapes loudly. “you looked at me like i was fragile.” jake says. “you looked at me differently.” you hold his gaze. “i did,” you admit. that surprises him. “because i saw you differently,” you continue. the room goes quiet. “not worse,” you add. “just… real.” he swallows. “you’ve been careful around me since that night in your car y/n.” he says again. “we both know that” he adds quietly. “because you started acting like i shouldn’t have seen that” you reply. “i didn’t say that” he answers. “you didn’t have to” you say. silence stretches thin. “i don’t even remember what i said” jake admits quietly. “i just remember feeling-” he stops. “like what?” you ask. “exposed.” he says, the word almost swallowed. you step closer before you can stop yourself. “jake, maybe you were,” you tell him. his breath shifts. “but you’re acting like that was a weakness.” you add. “i don’t get to be weak.” jake says. that line lands harder than anything else tonight. you stare at him. “you do with me” you say. he looks at you like he doesn’t know what to do with that. for a second, just one, the control drops. then it snaps back into place. he turns abruptly and walks to the front, clicks to the next slide, and says, “we need to run it clean.” back to structure. back to safety. you watch his back. it’s almost painful how fast he hides. “this is so ridiculous,” you say before you stand too. “fine”. you move beside him, not close enough to touch, and start the conclusion again. your voice is calm. measured. he interrupts once. “pause,” jake says. you stop. “say it again,” he adds. “why?” you ask. “the emphasis matters,” he replies. you repeat it. he nods. no comment. no warmth. just control. you finish the last slide. the clicker lowers. he flips his notes even though there is nothing left to flip. you wait. he almost speaks. his mouth parts, then closes. he looks back at the screen instead. you swallow. “we’re done for tonight.” you say. “yeah” jake replies. he doesn’t look at you. you pack your laptop. the zipper sounds too loud. you pause at the door. he almost says your name. he doesn’t. you leave. behind you, the projector hums for a few seconds longer before it shuts off, and the dark that replaces it feels heavier than the light ever did.

the classroom is already half full when you walk in, and the low murmur of voices and soft clacking of laptops make it look like any other day, which is the strangest part because the world looks normal even when you do not. you pause in the doorway long enough to take in the rows, the projector cart at the front, the professor’s bag slung over the chair near the desk, and then you move toward your usual area without letting yourself look for jake too obviously. he is already there, seated near the front with his laptop open and his notes laid out like he is about to sit an exam instead of do a preview presentation, posture straight, shoulders set, head angled down as he scrolls through the slide deck with careful, precise movements. the glow from the screen lights the underside of his jaw, his sleeve cuffs are pushed up, and his watch catches the overhead light when his wrist shifts. he looks composed, too composed, like if he holds still enough nothing can touch him. you pick a seat one chair away from him, not far enough to be obvious, not close enough to invite conversation, the space between you stupidly small and still deliberate. you set your bag down, unzip it quietly, slide your notebook onto the table, and hesitate on the zipper pull for half a second before forcing your fingers to move again because your body keeps trying to pause on moments that do not deserve attention. you open your laptop and the screen wakes with a soft chime that feels louder than it should.

jake does not look up, does not greet you, does not shift away either. his hand goes to his notes, and you watch without meaning to as he straightens the stack by tapping the bottom edge against the table once. twice. aligning the paper perfectly before tapping the corner and smoothing the top page like he is flattening invisible creases. you swallow and glance down at your own materials. you do not need to check yours. you know the slides, the points, the flow. last night proved you know the flow even under pressure, even with him pressing and pressing and pressing. your brain can still recite the conclusion in exact order without looking at a screen, but your body is still carrying that conversation like a bruise you keep touching accidentally. the professor walks in and sets a coffee on the desk, a few heads turn, the room shifts into quieter readiness, someone laughs in the back row and it fades quickly, chairs scrape, a phone vibrates then stops. jake clicks to the first slide, then back, then forward again. it is small, almost nothing, and you still notice it. he is checking the deck like it might change if he looks away. his jaw tightens subtly while he scrolls down the slide list on the left panel, pausing on the model alignment slide for a beat too long before the cursor moves away. he clicks to the conclusion slide, then back to the intro, then back to the middle as if tracing the path he is supposed to follow. you keep your eyes on your screen but remain aware of him in your peripheral vision like a heat source, present and constant. you adjust your chair slightly, the metal legs squeak, you wince internally and force your shoulders down. jake’s fingers stop for a moment and he turns his head just enough to glance at you, not inviting, not pushing away, neutral and almost blank like he is confirming you are there. you keep your face flat and your posture calm as if last night did not happen, as if the air between you is not still carrying unfinished words. he looks away first. you exhale slowly through your nose. your own hands begin aligning your notebook with the edge of the table, tapping your pen once before stopping when you realize you are mirroring him. you do not want to mirror him. you want to be normal. you scroll through the slide deck to give your fingers something to do. the text looks familiar, the graphs look familiar, the structure is solid. jake checks the slides again and you hear his trackpad click twice.

then you hear something else, quiet and under his breath, almost to himself, “if we frame it as variance, it’s cleaner.” jake murmurs without looking up. the words land like a small confession even though they are about nothing. you keep your eyes on your screen but your throat tightens because he is rehearsing beside you and it is proof he is nervous even if his face refuses to show it. he taps his notes again, straightening them like the paper might anchor him. you realize you have been bouncing your knee and force it still. stillness feels like control. you can do control. you can do contained. you glance up at the front of the room where the professor is setting up the schedule, students flipping through notes, someone whispering and laughing quietly. the normalcy makes your stomach roll faintly. jake reaches into his bag and pulls out a second set of printed pages, lays them on top of the first stack with deliberate care, lines them up again, edges perfectly aligned, turns the remote over in his hand, and sets it down exactly parallel to the laptop. he is organizing his environment like it can organize his head. you have seen him do that before during finals week. you have seen him do it when he is stressed. you did not realize how familiar the sight would feel. you close your laptop halfway and open it again, regretting the motion because it feels like you are copying him, then type an irrelevant placeholder line into the notes section just to give your fingers direction. jake glances at the clock, the second hand ticking, then back at the slides, lips pressing together then relaxing, fingers flexing once like he is shaking tension out of them. you wonder if he slept and hate that you wonder, hate that you care. he is not shaking, not visibly anxious, just too still, too precise, too prepared. it looks like discipline. it feels like fear.

the professor clears their throat and says, “alright, you’re preview presentations are coming up. we’ll do the preview run-throughs today. keep it tight, treat it as practice, and remember you’re here to improve, not to impress.” a few students nod, someone sighs quietly, a couple exchange looks. jake’s posture does not change but his fingers tighten on the remote. you inhale and count your breath. in. out. in. out. you glance sideways. his eyes are on the screen but his lashes lower for a second as if resetting himself before his gaze sharpens again. he leans closer and whispers the line again, quieter, “if we frame it as variance…” then stops mid-thought, jaw tightening as he swallows. you watch that swallow like it is louder than anything else in the room. your fingers curl lightly around your pen. you remember him in your car, voice cracking, words tumbling out, and now he is back to structure like it is the only thing keeping him upright. you shift slightly, shoulder almost brushing his, but you keep your distance. contained. not hostile. not warm. jake finally speaks to you, voice low and directed without looking over. “you have your part memorized, right?” jake asks quietly. you blink once and answer evenly, “yeah.” he nods once and replies, “good.” the word is flat, neutral. you almost respond but do not. the professor calls the first group, niki and sunghoon, to present and the room shifts again as students stand and gather materials. you feel jake’s knee bounce once under the table before he presses his foot flat again. the professor glances at the time and says casually, “you two will be after them.” jake’s chin dips in acknowledgment and you nod as well, the simple fact of being next making your shoulders settle lower and your stomach roll faintly as your fingers align your notebook perfectly with the table edge. jake checks the slides one more time, clicking through the intro, the framework, the model alignment slide, the conclusion, then stopping and staring at the screen for too long while the professor laughs at something up front and someone drops a pen that clatters and rolls. jake does not move. then very quietly, like the words are meant only for himself, he mutters, “don’t fuck it up.” it takes you half a beat to realize he is not talking to you. your breath catches and you cover it by clearing your throat and adjusting your laptop. you do not look at him. you do not speak.

the group before you finishes to polite, scattered applause, and the professor nods while offering a few notes about clarity and pacing that you barely hear because you are already aware of jake standing before the professor even calls your names, aware of the way he slides his laptop into position and gathers the remote in one smooth motion like muscle memory. “next,” the professor says, glancing down at the list before looking up, “jake and y/n” and jake is already moving. you follow a second later, your pulse steady but present, not frantic, not slow, just there, stepping up beside him not too close and not too far as the projector light washes the front of the room in pale blue, flattening everything into clean lines and shadowed edges that make him look sharper somehow, more defined. he does not look at you, he looks at the class, and he begins evenly, “good afternoon,” his voice calm, not too loud, not hesitant, just controlled. it is a good voice, measured and polished, the one he uses when he is certain, and something in your chest loosens slightly as he moves through the introduction without a hitch, the framing tight, his pacing deliberate but not rushed, glancing down at his notes once briefly before looking back up as if he only needed to confirm something minor. his hands are steady, the remote does not shake, and when he transitions to the problem statement he does it cleanly, saying, “what we noticed was that the inconsistency wasn’t random. it followed a pattern tied directly to the third sample set,” while gesturing lightly toward the slide. you see the professor nod once, subtle but approving, and jake does not overplay it or linger on it, he simply continues, the structure audible in his delivery, introduction, context, data framing, everything in the order you rehearsed. he does not check the slides twice now, he trusts them or at least looks like he does, and your fingers rest lightly around the clicker you will use when it is your section while you keep your face neutral and attentive, tracking him in ways no one else is. the cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his pauses, the slight shift of his shoulders with each new section. he moves into the methodology and explains with precision, “this approach allowed us to isolate variance without overcorrecting the baseline. instead of adjusting for outliers immediately, we mapped the deviation across three cycles to see if the instability sustained.” it is good, more than good, and he sounds prepared and composed, like someone who did not spend the night before arguing about humiliation and hesitation and whether he is allowed to be weak. the class listens with quiet engagement, a few people typing notes, one student looking up more intently when he mentions the third cycle, the professor scribbling something on the printed rubric. you become aware of your own body beside him, your weight evenly distributed, your hands still, your breathing unconsciously matching his rhythm. the professor nods again, someone in the second row tilts their head in interest, and the room relaxes into the rhythm of it. you are supposed to be tense, waiting for something to go wrong, but there is nothing wrong as he clicks forward, does not overexplain, does not repeat himself, does not spiral, exactly as composed as he wanted to be.

jake clicks to the next slide mid-sentence, not by much, just a fraction too early, the graph flashing up before his words fully land. he does not stop. “-which is why we prioritized consistency,” jake finishes smoothly, but you hear the half-beat misalignment between thought and movement as he shifts his weight slightly and tightens his fingers around the remote. you notice the way his shoulders lift a little higher than before as he keeps going. “this model holds under external fluctuation,” he says, the sentence solid and confident, but he says holds twice, the second time softer, like he is correcting himself without wanting anyone to notice. no one does. a student in the second row keeps typing. the professor watches with the same neutral attentiveness as before. jake inhales too quickly and moves into the comparison section, skipping the bridge line you both practiced until it felt automatic. he just jumps. “and when we tested alternative structures,” he says, voice a shade faster now, “the deviation flattened in ways that looked stable but weren’t.” it is not how you phrased it together. it is not wrong. it is just rushed. his jaw tightens, the muscle flexing once near his ear before settling, and he gestures at the slide, the motion sharper than before, less fluid, his hand cutting through the air instead of guiding it. he is still making sense, still articulate, but the rhythm is off. you feel it like a skipped stair. he swallows and keeps talking. “what this shows is that structural discipline matters,” he says, and the word discipline lands heavier than it needs to, like he is gripping it, holding onto it. he presses the remote again too early. the slide shifts before he finishes the sentence, a flicker of light crossing his face as the projector changes, and he pauses for half a second, not enough for anyone else to register, but to you it stretches. you feel your body react before your brain does, your fingers tightening around the clicker, your weight shifting forward as if you are already leaning into something. jake starts again. “what this demonstrates is-” he says, then stops. the silence is microscopic, but it is there. his eyes flick briefly toward the left side of the screen, to the slide list, checking where he is, and then almost involuntarily his gaze shifts sideways to you. it is not a request. it is not a plea. it is a reflex, and it disappears just as quickly. he looks forward again. “this demonstrates that the framework absorbs variance instead of amplifying it,” he repeats, faster now. he did not need to repeat the beginning. he is buying time. his breathing has changed, the inhale slightly higher in his chest, the exhale a little too controlled. the class does not move. the professor does not react. no one is uncomfortable. but you are, because you can see the exact moment where control turns into strain. he is speaking too fast now, not dramatically, just enough that the pauses between sentences are shrinking. he is compressing, stacking, not letting the air settle. he gestures again, and this time his fingers flex mid-motion like he almost lost grip of the rhythm. your pulse ticks up. you know this pattern. he does not spiral outward. he spirals inward. he tightens until something gives. he clicks again and the slide changes. he is ahead of himself now, not lost, not confused, just running slightly faster than the structure he built.

you feel the decision forming in your chest. you could wait. you could let him correct it himself. you could give him space. but the space is shrinking. “and this consistency-” jake says, then stops again, his jaw tightening when the word does not land cleanly. it is small. it is nothing to everyone else. but you see it, the almost, the place where he might overcorrect and start explaining too much, the place where he might try to prove something instead of just say it. his thumb presses harder into the remote, and you realize you are already moving, not visibly, not dramatically, but internally stepping forward before your body does. jake’s voice tightens just slightly on the word “consistency,” and you feel it before you understand it. it isn’t wrong. it isn’t bad. it’s just off. the rhythm he had at the beginning, the calm, measured flow, has narrowed into something sharper, more compressed. he is speaking like he is outrunning something invisible. you don’t let yourself think about last night. you don’t let yourself think about hesitation. you don’t let yourself calculate whether he will take this personally. you just move. “building on what jake just explained,” you say smoothly, your tone steady and even, not louder than his, not softer, and you don’t look at him, you look at the professor, gesturing lightly toward the slide as if this was always your cue. your heart is beating faster than it should, but your voice doesn’t betray it. “the reason we prioritized consistency is because the model doesn’t collapse when pressure increases,” you continue, keeping your phrasing aligned with his rather than replacing it. “it adjusts without losing its shape.” you keep it simple, not dense, not layered, not corrective. you aren’t fixing him. you’re finishing the line. you feel the room settle, not because anything dramatic happened but because the rhythm evens out again. the professor nods once. a classmate types something. someone shifts in their chair. no one reacts. you don’t glance at jake to check if he’s okay. you don’t soften your tone. you don’t give him an out. you finish the thought and then, without pausing long enough to own the space, you turn slightly toward him and say, “and that’s where the comparison becomes important.” you give it back not physically or ceremonially but by stepping half a pace back and letting the air return to him.

jake registers it immediately. he knows you just stepped in. he knows you didn’t have to. he knows you didn’t make it obvious. for half a second his mind blanks, not because he forgot what to say but because something in his chest shifts in a way he didn’t expect. she didn’t hesitate. that is the first thing that lands. she didn’t wait to see if i would recover. she didn’t measure whether i was worth stepping in for. she just did it. his throat feels tight, but not from panic this time. from something else. he nods once, subtle and almost imperceptible, and picks up the thread. “right,” he says, his voice steady again, the word coming easier than he expects. “exactly.” he continues without overexplaining, without stacking, without forcing, and his breathing evens out. the strangest part is that it’s easier now. he doesn’t feel exposed. he doesn’t feel corrected. he feels backed. the thought unsettles him, but he keeps talking. you focus on the screen so you don’t focus on him. you can feel the shift even without looking. your pulse is still a little high, but your hands are steady. you don’t feel embarrassed. you don’t feel triumphant. you don’t feel like you won anything. you just feel aligned. you didn’t hesitate, and that matters more than you expected. jake moves into the next slide, this time clicking at the right moment. his tone regains its earlier control, but it’s softer at the edges now, not weaker, just less rigid. he finishes the comparison section cleanly, with no repeats and no compression. he feels the difference too. he doesn’t know why it feels different. he expected stepping in to feel like exposure, like proof that he couldn’t hold it together. instead it felt seamless, like you trusted him to keep going. his chest tightens again, but not from anxiety, from recognition. you didn’t look at him when you did it. you didn’t make eye contact to check if he was falling apart. you didn’t lower your voice like he was fragile. you didn’t translate him. you continued him. that is the part that sticks. he keeps speaking, but part of his brain replays the moment in real time. she didn’t hesitate. you let him carry the next section. you don’t hover. you don’t prepare a second intervention. you stand beside him like a partner, not a guardrail. when your section comes, you step forward naturally, not rushed and not apologetic. you deliver your part with the same steady tone. you don’t overperform. you don’t compete. you just speak. when you finish, you don’t look at him for approval. you just wait. jake watches you as you talk. he doesn’t mean to. he tells himself he is listening for timing, for structure, for transitions. but he is watching the way you stand, the way your shoulders are relaxed, the way your voice doesn’t waver. she didn’t hesitate. the thought keeps looping. it collides with the memory of him saying, “you hesitated” with him accusing, with him insisting you weighed him, and now you didn’t.

the presentation winds down. you finish the conclusion together, alternating lines the way you practiced. the last slide fades in at exactly the right moment. there is no awkward silence and no stumble, just a clean end. “thank you,” jake says, and this time his voice is fully even. the professor nods and says, “good structure. tighten the comparative phrasing slightly, but overall, strong.” strong. jake nods once in acknowledgment. you both step back to your seats. your legs feel slightly lighter than before. you don’t look at him immediately. you sit, open your laptop, and pretend to review the professor’s notes while your heartbeat catches up. you didn’t save him. you didn’t correct him. you didn’t fix him. you just stood beside him, and somehow that feels bigger. jake sits down next to you with one seat between you again. he keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him, but his thoughts are louder now. she didn’t hesitate. she didn’t look embarrassed. she didn’t translate me. she stayed with it. he swallows. he doesn’t look at you. he doesn’t know what to do with the shift in his chest. it isn’t relief exactly. it isn’t gratitude. it isn’t pride. it’s something more unsettling, because if you didn’t hesitate, if you didn’t weigh him, then maybe he was wrong, and that thought lands heavier than the stumble ever did.

class resumes like nothing happened. the next group stands, the projector shifts decks, someone clears their throat, chairs scrape, and the room resets into ordinary noise so quickly it almost feels absurd how fast the moment dissolves into routine. you sit one seat away from jake again, and the space between you feels smaller now, not because it changed but because something did. you type a single line into your notes so you do not just sit there replaying the last ten minutes, your fingers moving automatically while your brain stays half at the front of the room, half at that half-second where he almost lost it. you didn’t hesitate. the thought settles somewhere under your ribs, quiet but firm. beside you, jake closes his laptop more slowly than usual, not dramatically, just deliberate, aligning his printed notes again and tapping the edges together until they are perfectly straight. he does not look at you, but he is aware of you, too aware. she didn’t make it obvious. that is the part that keeps replaying in his head. she didn’t look at me first. she didn’t lower her voice. she didn’t step in like i was fragile. she just continued. the professor dismisses class, and the room fills with the sound of bags zipping, chairs dragging back, conversations picking up immediately like they were waiting for permission. you slide your laptop into your bag and stand. jake stands at the same time. for a second you are too close, your arms nearly brushing as you both adjust your bags, and you step slightly to the side, creating space without making it look intentional. you start walking toward the door and he falls into step beside you. neither of you rush and neither of you slow down. the hallway is louder than the classroom was, voices echoing, lockers closing, footsteps layering over each other, and you focus on the floor tiles ahead of you, counting the pattern without meaning to.

jake breaks the silence first. “that worked” jake says, his tone neutral and controlled, not proud and not dismissive, just factual. you nod once and answer, “yeah” keeping your voice steady, not sharp and not soft, as you both keep walking. there is a pause while a few students pass you laughing about something unrelated, the world moving as if nothing shifted. jake adjusts the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and glances at you briefly before looking away again. “you didn’t have to.” jake says, without elaborating, without saying thank you, without saying he needed that, just leaving the sentence there. you keep your eyes ahead as you respond, “i know” and the words land between you. you didn’t have to, but you did. jake swallows. she just  knew. that part unsettles him more than anything. she knew she didn’t have to and she did it anyway, not to win, not to prove something, not to translate me, just to keep it steady. you reach the steps outside the building, the afternoon light softer now, the sky edged with early evening gray as students scatter across the quad. you stop at the top of the stairs and say, “so, i’ll look over the comparative phrasing tonight,” adjusting your bag strap. he nods once and replies, “i will too.” it is not competitive. it is not defensive. it just is. there is nothing else to add, no apology, no rehashing last night, just the air between you changed in a way neither of you are naming. you start down the steps and jake turns in the opposite direction at the bottom. for half a second he almost looks back. he doesn’t. you walk toward your dorm with your hands tucked into your sleeves, your thoughts quieter than they have been in days. he walks toward his with his jaw set, his mind replaying one thing over and over. she didn’t hesitate.

the dorm room is loud in the way it always is at night, not chaotic and not quiet, just layered. sunghoon is half-lying across his bed with one arm behind his head and his phone balanced on his chest, scrolling with the distracted focus of someone pretending to relax. niki is sitting cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table with a controller in his hand, swearing softly at the screen every few seconds. the overhead light is off and only the desk lamp and the tv glow fill the room in uneven patches of yellow and blue. jake closes the door behind him a little harder than he means to. neither of them look up immediately. “how’d it go?” niki asks after a second without taking his eyes off the game. “you were there.” jake answers, dropping his bag beside his desk chair and keeping his tone even, flat, controlled. “still, how did you feel?“ niki shrugs. “fine.” jake’s tone is steady. sunghoon shifts slightly and glances over at him. “preview done?” sunghoon asks. “yeah” jake replies without elaborating as he pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets it on the desk without opening it. he does not need to check the slides again. he knows them. he knows every line. he just stands there for a moment longer than necessary. niki snorts at something on the screen and says, “she jumped in” jake’s shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly as he replies automatically, still facing his desk, “she didn’t jump in.” niki pauses the game and looks over. “she did,” niki says casually. “mid-comparison.” jake exhales through his nose. “it was a transition.” sunghoon lifts an eyebrow slightly. “you lost the bridge.” jake turns around at that and leans back against the edge of his desk. “i didn’t lose it,” he says, a little sharper than he intends. “i skipped it.” - “same difference” niki shrugs. “it’s not.” jake answers too fast. niki studies him for a second and sets the controller down on the table. “relax,” niki says. “it wasn’t a big deal.” jake does not answer because that is the problem. it was not a big deal. no one noticed. the professor did not blink. the class did not react. he didn’t even think niki would notice. and yet... sunghoon shifts upright now, more attentive. “you didn’t look pissed, you looked relieved,” sunghoon says calmly. jake’s jaw tightens. “i wasn’t.”- “you were” niki replies lightly, not mocking, just stating. jake pushes off the desk and moves toward the small kitchenette area, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge even though he is not thirsty. “you’re reading into it” he says as he unscrews the cap. “no,” sunghoon says evenly. “we’re not.” jake takes a sip he does not need and can feel the shape of that half-second in his chest even now, the slide flipping too early, the breath catching, the split-second where he thought not now. he swallows and screws the cap back on. “it was fine” he says. niki leans back on his hands. “we’re not saying it wasn’t.” jake’s fingers tighten slightly around the bottle. “she didn’t make it obvious,” sunghoon adds. that lands. jake’s gaze flicks up for a second. no one in the room is smiling. no one is teasing. they are just observing. “she doesn’t usually hold back” niki says. jake lets out a quiet scoff. “she just- she didn’t hold back.”- “she did,” sunghoon replies, voice steady. “you know she did.” there is a pause. jake feels irritation flare up, quick and sharp. “you’re making it sound like i needed saving.” no one answers immediately and that silence is worse. niki shrugs slightly. “you didn’t look mad,” he says. “that’s all we’re saying.” jake feels his stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment. he runs a hand through his hair and pushes it back harder than necessary. “because i wasn’t.” - “exactly.” sunghoon says. jake’s eyes narrow slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”- “it means,” sunghoon replies calmly, “you don’t usually let stuff slide.” jake’s mind jumps automatically to defense. “it wasn’t worth fighting.”-  “or,” niki says, “you didn’t want to.” jake feels something shift under that and does not respond immediately.

he crosses the room and sits down on the edge of his bed instead, elbows resting on his knees while the tv light flickers across his hands. “i’m not competing with her right now” he says finally, the words feeling strange in his mouth. niki raises an eyebrow. “that’s new.” jake’s jaw tightens again. “we’re working together.” - “you’ve been working together all semester,” sunghoon says. that is not the same jake wants to say. before it was tension. before it was edge. before it was something sharp that kept him alert. but now he does not finish the thought. niki picks the controller back up but does not unpause the game. “you’re not mad she helped…” he says again, quieter this time. jake’s head lifts. “that‘s not-” he stops because he is not and that realization annoys him more than if he were. he looks down at his hands as the memory flashes in his mind without permission, the way her voice cut in steady and smooth, ‘building on what jake just explained…’ not correcting, continuing. he felt the panic ease immediately. he did not have to recover alone. he shakes the thought away. “it doesn’t matter” he says. sunghoon watches him carefully. “if it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be thinking about it.” jake looks up sharply. “i’m not.” - “alright” niki says lightly, and there is something knowing in it. the room feels smaller suddenly, the air heavier. jake pushes himself upright. “i’m going out” he says. niki glances at the clock. “now?” - “yeah.” sunghoon does not argue. he just nods once. “don’t overthink it” sunghoon says casually. jake huffs a quiet breath that is not quite a laugh. “i’m not.” but the moment he steps into the hallway and the dorm room door clicks shut behind him, the noise drops away and the quiet is louder than it should be.

he walks without a destination at first, down the stairs and out the front door. the night air is cooler than he expected and it hits his face and sharpens everything. he shoves his hands into his pockets. she didn’t make it obvious. she didn’t hesitate. he exhales slowly. she likes control. that’s all. that’s why she did it. not because she- but she did not look at me when she did it. she did not frame it like a correction. she did not make it about her. she just stood beside me. he feels the edge of something uncomfortable press against his ribs and he quickens his pace. this does not mean anything. it was a presentation. it was timing. it was discipline. that word echoes in his head. discipline. structure. control. he walks faster. the campus is mostly quiet now, streetlights humming faintly overhead, the pavement damp from earlier rain and reflecting the yellow glow in broken lines. his sneakers hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, each step measured and deliberate. walking usually helps. it gives his thoughts structure, direction, momentum. tonight they refuse to line up. she didn’t make it obvious. the sentence keeps circling. he exhales through his nose and adjusts his pace, faster now, like speed might outrun it. it was a presentation. people interrupt. transitions get skipped. it happens. he has done worse before and recovered cleaner. this was not even a mistake. it was a minor slip. the professor did not react. the class did not react. it was fine. he repeats it internally, controlled, like he is rewriting a narrative. it was fine. but his chest tightens anyway because he remembers the half-second, the slide shifting too early, the silence microscopic but there, the split-second thought that hit before he could stop it. not now. he had felt it, the edge of exposure, the possibility of looking sloppy, of looking unprepared, of looking second. his jaw tightens at the memory. and then your voice, steady. ‘building on what jake just explained…’ he slows slightly without realizing it. she did not rush. she did not sound sharp. she did not emphasize the correction. she did not even look at me. she just continued. he replays the moment again. the panic had eased instantly, not vanished but softened. he had not had to fight the room back. he had not had to reclaim control aggressively. she had adjusted the rhythm and given it back to me. his steps falter slightly before he corrects them. that does not mean anything. it was teamwork. we are partners. of course she stepped in. he clenches his jaw. she always steps in. she is competitive. she likes control. that is all. but something about that explanation feels thinner now because you did not look competitive. you did not look satisfied. you did not look like you had scored a point. she just looked steady. he hates that word. steady implies intention.

he reaches the edge of the quad and slows, hands deep in his jacket pockets now, the pavement damp from earlier rain and reflecting the yellow streetlight in broken streaks. he tells himself this is distraction. he has been off since the ranking dropped, since the stupid decimal shift. that is what this is. pressure. nothing else. but the ranking does not explain the relief. that is the problem. he had felt it, clear and undeniable. relief. not embarrassment. not anger. relief. his breathing shifts again. he stops walking for a second, staring out across the empty lawn. relief means he did not want to fight it alone. relief means- he cuts the thought off. no. it just means she timed it well. it means she is good at reading the room. it means she is strategic. he nods once to himself like that settles it. then why did it feel different? the question lands without permission and he does not like it because it did not feel like strategy. it felt- he swallows and does not finish the word. he pushes off again, walking faster. he is overthinking. niki got into his head. that is all. ‘you looked relieved.’ he huffs under his breath. he was not relieved. he was just- he does not have a clean word for it. the memory shifts slightly in his mind, your hand moving toward the clicker, your tone steady, the way you did not frame it as correction, the way you did not soften it either. she treated it like it was normal, like i was still in control. he slows again because that is the part that does not fit. you did not translate him. you did not fix him. you did not protect him loudly. she adjusted beside me. he exhales slowly, his breath visible in the cool air. that should not matter. but it does, and he does not know why. he stands there for a second too long, staring at nothing. something shifted, and he does not like that he cannot name it. he pushes himself back into motion again, jaw tight. it does not mean anything. it was just a presentation. but the thought follows him anyway, stubborn and quiet. it felt better standing beside her. it follows him like it has weight, like it is something physical he cannot shake off, and he hates that immediately.

jake keeps walking anyway because walking is what he does when something does not fit, because movement makes things make sense, because movement turns chaos into sequence. but the thought does not fall into sequence and does not belong to any category he trusts. it was one preview. a half-second slip. he recovered. it was fine. so why is it still in his chest? he exhales through his nose, jaw tightening, and forces his pace faster across the damp pavement while the streetlights above hum faintly, their glow breaking into reflected fragments on the wet ground. a couple of students cross the quad in the distance laughing about something that has nothing to do with him, and he does not listen because he does not need to, their voices fading behind him like static. he tries to dismiss it again. jake digs his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and keeps walking as if the pressure of fabric against his knuckles will anchor him. he can still feel the plastic remote in his palm even though it is not there anymore. he can still feel the moment the slide flipped too early, the flicker of light across his face, the micro-pause that only he and you would have noticed, and only you did notice. that is part of it. it hits him again, sharp and inconvenient: she noticed. he does not like that his brain uses you like that, like it is automatic now, like your existence is a reference point in his head, and he pushes it away. of course she noticed, she always notices, she always tracks, she always pays attention to details other people miss, and that is what makes her good, what makes her annoying, what makes her dangerous.

his pace slows without him meaning it to and he corrects it immediately, walking faster again, because he hates losing control of his own body and hates the way his thoughts are dragging him sideways. it was not the normal satisfaction of a clean recovery. it was not even about being right. it had been something else, and he hates that he cannot name it. he reaches the edge of the quad and slows near the steps, staring out across the open grass, the campus at night looking almost staged like it was designed to feel calm, path lamps glowing at regular intervals, trees swaying lightly in the wind, air smelling faintly like rain and cold stone. he stands still for a second too long. something shifted, and he does not like that he cannot name it. he pushes himself back into motion again, jaw tight. it does not mean anything. it was just a presentation. but the thought follows him anyway, stubborn and quiet. it felt better standing beside her. his mind flicks to the ranking board without his permission. midterm day. the decimal. down by one. yours up. he remembers the heat in his neck - and the way you weren’t smiling. you weren’t celebrating. you were watching him. jake remembers walking up like it did not matter. he told himself it didn’t matter. one decimal. a stupid fucking decimal. yours up. his down. and you weren’t smiling. you were watching him. you were not celebrating his slip. you were just looking at him differently. not smug, not victorious. softer. but he hated it. hated it because it felt like pity. hated it because pity is for people who lose. hated it because he could not afford to be someone who loses. he had played it off, joked, smiled, acted like the decimal did not matter, but he had felt it like a bruise. and then later, when the campu had emptied, when the noise had faded, when it was just him and you and the air between you still carrying that weird tension, he had done something he still could not explain. he had not meant to- except he had. and that contradiction is the part that makes his stomach tighten now. he had leaned in. he had closed the space. he remembers the moment with brutal clarity, not because it was romantic but because it was the first time in a long time he did something without running it through strategy first. he leaned in. he could have stopped. he didn’t. no hesitation. no strategy. it didn’t feel like rivalry. it felt inevitable. the word lands in his head again and he hates it. inevitable implies a pattern. inevitable implies it started earlier. inevitable implies he did not choose it, except he did.

he stands still again near a lamppost staring down at the wet ground, his reflection broken in the puddles into pieces distorted by light, and he flexes his fingers inside his pockets like he is trying to wake them up. he is not supposed to feel inevitable about anything except success. he moves again, taking the long path around the quad as if distance will untangle his thoughts. arcade night flashes next, not the games or the laughter or the noise but the walk back, the way the air cooled after the arcade heat, the way the night felt quieter than it should have been with so many people around, the way you kept glancing at him like you were checking something you did not want to admit you were checking. then the door closing. the shift. the quiet that fell like a heavy blanket. he remembers the dorm hallway light harsh and yellow, the way his pulse was too fast, the way his head felt slightly fogged, the way he kept telling himself it was just alcohol, just tension, just the night, and then the feeling that followed, not drunk chaos, not blurred impulse, deliberate. that word again. deliberate is worse than inevitable because deliberate implies choice. he remembers how close it got and does not let his mind linger on physical details. your breath changing, his hand not pulling away, you not pulling away, the moment where everything could have stopped and did not. not because you could not, but because neither of you wanted to. he swallows, throat tight, and turns his head sharply like he can shake the memory out physically, walking faster now, the rhythm of his steps turning almost aggressive. he does not like that those memories do not feel messy. he does not like that they feel chosen. chosen means he let you in. chosen means he lost control. chosen means he wanted something that was not strategic. he hates that the thought makes him feel exposed even though no one is here. the campus path curves toward the library, the building dark except for a few lit windows on the lower floor, probably students studying late, silhouettes moving inside, and he feels a familiar tightening in his chest. an old pressure that has always driven him. be exceptional. don’t be second. don’t let anyone see you struggle. and that pressure is comforting because it is predictable. but now another thread is weaving into it, something he did not ask for. you. he thinks about your face during the preview presentation, the way you did not look at him before you spoke, the way you did not soften your voice, the way you did not announce that you were helping, and the way you did not even make it about him. you just continued.

he cannot stop replaying the way the relief hit his body before his brain could argue it away. he can still feel it, the tension in his shoulders loosening, the breath coming easier, the rhythm returning. and relief is a word he hates because relief implies need, need implies weakness, weakness implies second place. he stops again near the steps of the library and stares at the railing like it has answers, hearing his own breathing, the faint buzz of the streetlights, a distant door opening somewhere and then closing. proximity. that is all. you are working together, of course it feels different. it is stress, midterms, rankings, the project, it is tension, rivalry turning sideways. it is habit. i’m is used to her being there. used to pushing against her. but the explanations do not stick and slide off the truth like water off glass, because if it were just rivalry, relief would not feel like safety. because if it were just tension, it would not feel steady. because if it were just ego, he would not care that you stepped in without making him look weak. the problem is not that you helped. the problem is that he wanted you to. that thought lands and it does not land softly, it lands like a weight. he does not move, not even a step, not even a shift of his shoulders. his hands stay in his pockets, his jaw locks, his breathing slows, not because he is calming down but because his body has gone into a weird still mode where it is bracing for impact. he waits for a counterargument, waits for the defensive voice that always shows up with a clean answer. and nothing comes, because his brain is running images without permission now. not explicit and not romantic. just devastatingly simple. you not smiling when he dropped that decimal. you watching him instead of celebrating. you stepping in during the preview. you walking away after he snapped. not because you did not care, but because he made it impossible to stay close without getting cut. he has been telling himself you pulled back because you regretted something. telling himself you froze because you did not want it, telling himself your distance was rejection. but what if it was self-protection? what if she withdrew because i hurt her? what if she did not hesitate today because she never hesitated about me in the first place? his chest tightens again, not with panic exactly but with fear. because if that is true then he has been wrong.  and if you weren’t his enemy, then who was he fighting? he stands there still as the thoughts stack up like blocks he cannot rearrange. i don’t want to beat her. the sentence forms slowly in his head and it feels like it breaks something just by existing. i don’t want to beat you. i wants you beside me. that is worse- because wanting someone beside him implies partnership, partnership implies trust, trust implies vulnerability, vulnerability implies losing control. he swallows again but his throat stays tight. i don’t want to lose her. the thought comes next, sudden and blunt. like it was not filtered through his ego at all. he goes even stiller as if that is possible, his brain stalling. why? the word is almost angry. it can’t be-

shit.

he exhales slowly, breath fogging in the cold air, and stares out across the empty quad again, path lights humming, grass dark, the campus a still image. for the first time since freshman year he is not thinking about rankings, not thinking about decimals, not thinking about being first. he is thinking about you walking away. and that possibility, quiet and simple and not dramatic, feels worse than losing. he does not move. he does not reach for his phone. he does not text. he does not call. he does not fix it. he just stands there in the middle of the night with the streetlights humming overhead and the awareness sitting in his chest like something irreversible.

the campus looks ordinary in the morning light, students moving between buildings in loose clusters with coffee cups and backpacks and low conversation, everything predictable, structured, familiar. you spot him at the long wooden table outside the economics building before he sees you, already there with his laptop open, notes spread beside it, a pen balanced neatly across the margin of a printed draft. you slow down slightly without meaning to and approach. he glances up when your bag touches the bench. “morning” he says, without a smirk, without a dry remark about punctuality. “morning” you reply, and your eyes drift to the screen automatically. slide 14. you pause. “that’s different” you say. he nods once. “yeah” he answers, offering no explanation, and when you wait he turns the laptop slightly toward you. “i adjusted the transition after the model comparison.” he says, just that, no performance, no claim of credit, no subtle implication that he caught something you didn’t. you blink. “you adjusted it?” you ask. “it was clunky,” he says simply. “the shift into limitations felt abrupt.” you stare at the new wording. he split the bridge into two steps, tightened the language, removed one of your longer sentences. it reads better. you hate that it reads better. “you didn’t have to” you tell him. he shrugs lightly. “it flows cleaner this way” he replies, no edge, no satisfaction. you sit down slowly, aware of the strange absence in the air, like a missing note in a chord you’ve gotten used to hearing, and you open your laptop. “run it from the top?” you ask. he nods. you begin with your section, moving through the regression framing controlled and precise, leaving space deliberately in your explanation, a minor phrasing vulnerability, a statistic that could be challenged if someone wanted to. he usually would. you reach the end of the segment. silence. you glance up. he’s listening, chin resting lightly against his knuckles, eyes steady, not calculating, not waiting to interject. “that’s it?” you ask before you can stop yourself. he tilts his head slightly. “yeah?” he says. “you’re not going to push back?” you press. a small pause. “if i disagree, i will” he answers, no sarcasm in it. you feel your shoulders tense. “that’s not what i meant” you say. he studies you for half a second longer than necessary. “i know,” he replies, then gestures toward the next slide. “continue.” you do, but your rhythm is off, prepared for interruption, for debate, for the sharp back-and-forth that’s become instinct. without it your words feel slightly unanchored. you finish again. he nods once. “good” he says. you stare at him. “that’s all?” you ask. “do you want me to argue?” he asks, no challenge in his tone, just a question. you hesitate. “no” you answer. he accepts that immediately and leans forward to adjust the font size on one of your bullet points. “it’ll read better from the back” he says, his hand hovering over your section not possessive, not dismissive, just precise. you watch him make the change. he doesn’t narrate it, doesn’t draw attention, doesn’t look at you afterward for approval. he just continues. “you want to run the q&a simulation?” he asks. “yes” you reply. you switch roles. he presents now, structured, controlled, smooth. when he reaches the variance explanation you instinctively lean forward, ready to cut in, ready to refine his wording before it slips. it doesn’t. he tightens the phrasing himself. you blink. he finishes the segment. “thoughts?” he asks. you open your mouth automatically, almost say something sharp out of habit, but instead you say, “it’s clear.” he nods once, polite grin, no subtle victory, no teasing comment about how generous that was of you, and he just clicks to the next slide. the air feels strangely neutral, not hostile, not warm, just even. you didn’t realize how much the friction structured things until it disappeared.

you try again. “in the second example,” you say carefully, “you’re assuming the panel will accept the sampling frame without challenge.” he considers that. “they won’t,” he replies. “but i’m not going to escalate it unless they do first.” you blink. “you’re not?” you ask. “no,” he answers and folds his hands loosely in front of him. “it’s cleaner if we don’t force the tension” he says, and the sentence sits between you. cleaner. you don’t know why that word unsettles you. you’ve always associated him with controlled chaos, sharp improvisation, strategic provocation. now he sounds deliberate, measured. something shifts under your ribs, not panic, not irritation, just displacement. the rivalry had a rhythm. push. counter. refine. correct. you knew your place in that rhythm. if he steps out of it, you’re not sure where you stand. “run it again.” you say a little too quickly. he nods. this time you listen more than you speak, tracking his phrasing, his tone, the way he transitions between sections. there’s no defensiveness in his voice, no subtle competitiveness woven into his inflection. he doesn’t perform the debate. he performs the work. you notice the small things: he references your model without framing it as separate from his, he says “our projection” instead of “your estimate,” he adjusts one of his own sentences mid-delivery when it sounds too sharp. you didn’t even ask him to. he just does. and when he finishes, he closes the laptop halfway. “that was solid” he says. you stare at him. “you’re so calm” you observe. a beat passes. “why wouldn’t i be?” he replies. he’s right, why wouldn’t he– it’s not like he had the biggest breakdown since ever last night.

students pass behind you, someone laughs too loudly, a door slams somewhere in the building, the world continuing. you look at him again, trying to locate the edge you’re used to. it’s not gone. it’s just quieter. you fold your arms lightly. “why are you not trying to win this rehearsal?” you ask. he meets your eyes evenly. “i’m just trying to get it right.” he answers immediately, uncomplicated. you don’t know what to do with that. you look away first. he doesn’t. you feel it, the absence of competition as pressure, not dramatic, not loud, just different. you close your laptop slowly. “same time tomorrow?” you ask. “yeah, sure” he replies. he gathers his notes, stacks them neatly, and slides them back into his bag without flourish, without careless stuffing. you’re still holding your laptop half-open when footsteps cut across the concrete behind you, too fast and too coordinated to be random, and you already know it’s going to be someone you can’t ignore. jay’s voice hits first, bright and shameless. “oh my god,” jay says as he, jungwon and kazuha slow down beside the table, “look at you two. studying in daylight. i feel like i’m interrupting a very serious documentary.” you blink once and set your laptop lid down a little harder than necessary because you were about to leave and now you’re not. and you hate that the timing makes you look like you were lingering. jake doesn’t seem bothered, which is worse. he just shifts his bag strap onto his shoulder and looks up at jay with the expression he uses when someone is talking too much and he’s deciding whether it’s worth responding. “we’re done” jake says evenly, and there’s no bite in it. jay grins like that’s an invitation. “yeah, sure” jay replies, dragging the word out as he drops into the seat opposite you anyway. jungwon doesn’t sit, but he leans against the edge of the table with his hands in his pockets, scanning the open screen like he’s clocking the slide deck without meaning to, while kazuha sets her bag down on the bench with a quiet thud, polite but unapologetic, as if this table has always been communal property. you shift your weight slightly, adjusting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, and you can feel how your body is already preparing for the old rhythm. someone jokes. jake deflects. you sharpen. he counters.

the conversation snaps into place like a familiar mechanism. jay’s eyes flick from you to jake and back with exaggerated curiosity. “so,” jay says, tapping the table once, “are you guys in a truce era or are we still doing the whole academic enemies thing because i miss the tension. it was entertaining.” heat rises faintly up your neck at the word tension, not because it’s new but because it’s not accurate anymore, not in the way people mean when they say it. you keep your face neutral and say, “we’re just working” because that’s safe and factual and boring enough to end the subject. jake doesn’t contradict you, which is the first sign something is off in a way you don’t have language for. he just reaches down and nudges his bag with his foot, pushing it closer to the bench like he’s anchoring it. jungwon tilts his head and asks, “preview went fine?” and you open your mouth to answer out of habit, but jake answers first, calm and concise. “it was fine” jake says, and it’s not dismissive. it’s not cocky. it’s just a statement. jay makes a face like he’s offended by how uninteresting that is. “jake saying ‘fine’ is terrifying,” jay says, pointing at him like he’s presenting evidence, “because that means he’s either lying or about to win something.” you expect jake to smirk or toss something sharp back, because that’s what he usually does when jay turns him into a caricature, but jake only lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. “we’re not winning,” jake says. “we’re presenting.” the words are mild, but they land with an odd firmness, and you watch jay blink like he’s recalibrating.

kazuha slides into the seat beside jay, crossing one leg over the other, and looks at you with a small smile. “you look tired,” kazuha observes lightly, like it’s casual and not a diagnosis. you hate that she’s right, and you hate that your first instinct is to deny it, so instead you adjust your grip on your bag strap and say, “i’m fine” because that’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain anything. jay makes a sympathetic noise that’s mostly fake. “we’re all fine,” jay says dramatically, “we’re just slowly dying inside as midterms approach again.” you feel jake’s gaze flick toward jay for half a second at the mention of midterms, then away, so fast you almost miss it, and you don’t know why that tiny movement sticks in your mind. jay’s eyes drop to jake’s bag, then to the corner of the printed draft peeking out of it, then back to jake’s face with obvious delight. “wait,” jay says, leaning forward, “hold on. jake has paper.” he says it like he’s caught a rare animal in the wild. “jake has printed paper.” jungwon lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, and kazuha’s eyebrows lift. jay turns his head toward you like you’re supposed to confirm it. “he doesn’t even look like he studies,” jay declares, voice loud enough that a couple of passing students glance over, “he just shows up and wins. it’s sick.” you glance at jake automatically, expecting him to laugh it off, to smooth it over, to keep the persona intact. jake doesn’t laugh. jake doesn’t even smile. he just says, “i do jay.” three words. flat. final. it’s not defensive the way it would be if he said it too quickly. it’s not performative either. he says it like it’s a fact that doesn’t require debate, like he’s done pretending the myth is convenient.

the silence that follows is small but real. jay’s grin falters just enough to show surprise, and jungwon’s gaze sharpens with quiet interest like he’s watching a crack form in glass. your fingers tighten around your bag strap, then loosen when you realize you’re gripping it too hard. jay recovers first, because jay always does, and he laughs. “okay, damn,” jay says, “sorry, didn’t know i was touching a nerve.” jake’s eyes stay on jay, steady and unamused, but not hostile. “you weren’t” jake replies, and something about the calmness of it makes the air feel different. you swallow, your throat suddenly dry, and you can’t decide if the discomfort is because jake just corrected the narrative out loud or because a part of you feels exposed, like your old assumptions are standing in the sunlight. more footsteps approach, familiar and quick, and you don’t have to turn to know who it is because niki’s voice carries like he was built for interruptions. “why do you look like someone just insulted your entire bloodline?” niki asks as he drifts toward the table, and sunghoon follows half a step behind him, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable in the way that means he’s clocking everything. niki’s eyes flick over the group, then land on jake, and his mouth twists into a grin. “what’s up man-” niki says, dragging the word out. jay points at jake like he’s proud. “i said he doesn’t look like he studies,” jay admits, “because it’s true.” niki’s grin widens, but there’s something sharper under it than joke, like he’s enjoying the chance to poke at the myth because he knows exactly how false it is. “you should see him during midterms,” niki says, tone teasing but edged, as he drops into the chair closest to jake like he owns the place, “man goes ghost.” he says it like it’s funny, like it’s casual, like it’s not also a confession that jake’s calm is curated. jay laughs too loudly. “ghost?” jay repeats. “jake?” niki nods like he’s confirming a fact everyone should already know. “yeah,” niki says, glancing at you briefly and then back to jake, “like you’ll text him and he’ll reply three business days later with one word, and then you’ll realize he’s been in the library basement pretending he doesn’t need oxygen.” sunghoon makes a quiet sound that could be agreement or warning, then adds, “he forgets food exists,” in that same calm voice he uses when he’s stating something obvious, and you feel your chest tighten again because they’re saying it like a joke, but jake isn’t smiling, and neither are you. jake exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the table for half a second like he’s counting his reactions. he doesn’t deny it. he doesn’t deflect it. he doesn’t snap at niki to shut up. he just says, “you’re exaggerating” and it’s the closest thing to a protest he offers. niki’s eyes brighten like he’s been given permission to push. “am i?” niki asks innocently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sunghoon’s gaze flicks to jake in a silent check-in. jake’s jaw tightens once, barely, then relaxes.

“we’re leaving” jake says again, not to the group but to the situation, and it’s not angry. it’s controlled. it’s him trying to reclaim the exit he was going to have before jay arrived. you shift again, adjusting your stance like you’re preparing to follow him, and you realize with a jolt that you’ve been aligning yourself with him instinctively, physically, without deciding to. your stomach twists at the realization, and you force your expression back into neutral. jay is still grinning, oblivious to the subtle tension because he’s not the one living inside it. “wait,” jay says, “so you’re telling me jake is actually human?” niki laughs. “barely,” niki answers, and sunghoon’s mouth twitches like he almost smiles. kazuha looks at jake with softer curiosity now, like she’s seeing him from a new angle. “you really study?” kazuha asks, and it’s not mocking, it’s just genuinely surprised. jake meets her gaze briefly. “yes,” jake says, and then, because he doesn’t seem to know what to do with that kind of attention, he adds, “i just don’t like to talk about it.” the sentence is plain, but it lands harder than anything else he’s said today, and you feel it hit somewhere low in your chest like a weight shifting. you remember the times he disappeared during midterms. the gaps where he wasn’t at group meetups. the way he always showed up afterward looking normal again, like he’d simply been out having fun. you remember how easy it was to assume the reason for his absence was comfort. privilege. safety. a faint sting settles behind your ribs. jay misses the complexity and barrels forward. “okay,” jay says, “but like you still make it look easy.” niki’s grin fades slightly, not fully, but enough that you notice the shift. “looking easy doesn’t mean it is” niki says, still casual, still teasing, but the edge is sharper now, like he’s warning jay without turning it into a confrontation. sunghoon doesn’t say anything, but his gaze holds steady on jay for a second too long, and jay finally lifts his hands like he’s backing off. “alright, alright,” jay says, laughing, “i get it, you guys are sensitive about your golden boy.” jake’s eyes flick up at that, quick and cold, and for a second you see the edge you were trying to locate earlier, the one you know. it’s there. it’s just been kept on a leash today. he doesn’t snap, though.

he just slings his bag higher on his shoulder and says, “okay, we’re done.” like he’s closing the conversation with the same precision he stacks paper. you should feel relief, but you don’t. your mind keeps snagging on the same points. jake is not effortless. jake is not careless. jake is not coasting. jake is private. privacy doesn’t fit neatly into your rivalry logic. you can compete with arrogance. you can compete with talent. you can compete with ego. but you can’t compete with someone you don’t fully understand. and the thought unsettles you more than it should. niki stands and stretches, bumping jake’s shoulder lightly with his own as niki passes. “don’t forget to eat” niki says, half-joking, and jake’s mouth tightens like he’s refusing to react to the softness hidden inside the tease. “i will.” jake replies, and you don’t know if he means it, but you do know he didn’t roll his eyes. he didn’t joke. he didn’t brush it off. he just accepted it. jungwon checks his phone and says, “we’re grabbing coffee,” and kazuha nods, already pulling her bag strap up. jay points at you. “you coming?” he asks. you open your mouth to say you have class because you always have an excuse ready, because leaving is easier than sitting in discomfort, but you hesitate, and the hesitation is physical before it’s mental. your fingers shift on your bag strap. your weight rocks back on your heels. “i have class” you say finally, because it’s true and because you need the escape. jay groans dramatically and waves you off. “of course you do” he says, already turning away as the group begins to drift. kazuha gives you a small smile and jungwon nods once, and then they’re walking off, their conversation fading into normal campus noise like nothing happened. but something did.

the table feels emptier even though you and jake are still standing there. you look down at the closed lid of your laptop like it can give you structure, like it can give you the familiar certainty you like living inside. jake doesn’t move right away. he adjusts the strap on his bag again, fingers tightening once on the fabric, then releasing. you watch the motion and realize you’re tracking him the way you track data points, like you’re trying to find a pattern that explains him cleanly. you hate that your first instinct is to soften toward him. not in a romantic way. not in a sweet way. in a pity-adjacent way you don’t trust, because pity is a trap. pity changes the power dynamic. pity makes you careless. pity makes you misread people. and yet the idea of him going ghost during midterms, of him disappearing not because he doesn’t care but because he cares too much, presses uncomfortably against your old assumptions, and a quiet heat rises behind your eyes like irritation that has nowhere to go. you clear your throat, not because you need to but because you need sound. jake glances at you. “what?” he asks, neutral. you almost say, “nothing.” you almost say, you could’ve told people. you almost say, i didn’t know. instead you say the safest thing you can find. “are you really going to eat?” a beat passes. then jake’s mouth twitches, almost a smile, but it doesn’t fully form. “yes,” jake replies, his tone still calm but much softer at the edges. “i’m not trying to die before presentation day.” you huff a quiet breath that could count as a laugh if you let it. “good,” you say. jake studies you for half a second, like he’s trying to read why you said it that way, and you feel that familiar pressure building in your chest. the pressure of being seen not as a competitor but as a person who cares enough to ask. he looks away first, as if he doesn’t want to sit in that recognition. “same time tomorrow?” jake says, not a question. “yeah” you answer. he starts to walk, then slows, matching your pace without commenting on it, and you hate how natural it feels for your steps to align. you walk toward the building together, not touching, not close enough for anyone to comment, but close enough that you can feel the heat of him when the wind shifts. jake stops at the entrance of your lecture hall and nods once. “see you” he says. “yeah” you reply. you turn toward the door, and you feel his gaze on your back for a second longer than necessary, not intense, not possessive, just present. you don’t look back. you tell yourself you don’t need to. but your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag anyway as you walk inside. you thought he was effortless. now you’re not sure what he is. but you know this in a way you don’t like admitting. it’s harder to compete with someone you can’t reduce. it’s harder to feel victorious when you start noticing what it costs them.

the week before midterms always does something to campus, like the air gets thinner and everyone pretends they’re fine while quietly unraveling. you tell yourself you’re not going to a party. you tell yourself you have too much to do, too much to lose, too many reasons to stay in your dorm with a highlighter and a spreadsheet. you tell yourself you don’t need loud music and sweaty rooms and cheap alcohol to cope with pressure. you tell yourself all of that right up until eunchae is standing in your doorway with her arms crossed and a look that says she’s not leaving until you move. “you’re coming,” eunchae says, and she says it like it’s a fact, not a suggestion, while chaewon leans against the wall behind her with that calm, unimpressed expression she gets when she’s already planned your entire evening for you. sakura is sitting on the edge of your bed scrolling through her phone like she owns your room, and yunjin is already halfway into a jacket, grinning like she’s about to have the fun of her semester. kazuha, quietly lethal as always, offers you a hair tie like she’s bribing you into compliance. “you’ve been staring at the same page for an hour” chaewon points out, and her tone is too gentle to argue with. “that’s called focus” you reply automatically, but eunchae cuts in immediately, rolling her eyes. “that’s called spiraling” eunchae says, and she doesn’t even sound mean, just certain, like she’s observed you long enough to know the difference. you open your mouth to protest again, but yunjin steps closer and bumps your shoulder with hers, warm and insistent. “it’s one night,” yunjin says, and her grin turns softer for half a second. “you’re not gonna lose your scholarship because you danced for forty-five minutes.” sakura looks up and adds, “also, we’re not letting you sit here and stress-cry alone” and the fact that she says it so casually makes your stomach tighten. like you’ve been caught doing something you didn’t want anyone to name. you hate that it lands, and you hate that they’re right, and you hate that your chest loosens a fraction anyway like your body’s already giving in before your pride does, so you stand up with a sharp exhale and grab your jacket, muttering, “if i fail my midterm because of you, i’m haunting all of you.” eunchae beams like she’s won something. “deal.” eunchae says, already turning toward the hallway, and kazuha slips her arm through yours in a quiet, grounding way that makes you feel less like you’re being dragged and more like you’re being escorted.

the party is on campus, in one of those apartments that somehow always ends up being the center of whatever social event happens before everyone collapses into exam mode. you can hear it before you even reach the door, bass vibrating through the walls like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you. the hallway smells like perfume, cheap cologne and something sugary. someone you don’t recognize stumbles past laughing too loudly, nearly knocking into you until sakura shifts smoothly and blocks you with her shoulder like she’s been doing this her whole life. “breathe, it’ll be fun.” kazuha murmurs near your ear, and you do, because her voice is calm enough to make your nervous system listen even when your brain doesn’t want to. eunchae knocks once and then doesn’t wait, pushing the door open with the confidence of someone who has never questioned whether she belongs somewhere. warm air rushes out immediately, heavy with sweat, alcohol and heat from too many bodies in one space, and the sound hits you like a wall: music, laughter, someone yelling over the song, glass clinking somewhere in the kitchen. chaewon steps in first like she’s unbothered, sakura follows with a smile that’s too practiced, yunjin looks delighted, and you hover half a step behind them for a second longer than you should, because you already want to leave and you haven’t even fully entered. eunchae turns back and catches your wrist lightly, tugging you in with a grin. “welcome back to being a person” eunchae says, and it makes your face heat because you don’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed, so you do neither and let her pull you inside.

you clock the room fast because that’s what you do when you’re uncomfortable: you inventory. a cluster of people near the couch, someone perched on the armrest with a red cup, a couple making out in the corner like they forgot walls exist, a line forming toward the kitchen where the drinks are. you recognize heeseung immediately because he’s tall and loud and somehow always looks like he’s having the best time even when he’s doing nothing. he’s leaning near the counter with a grin while sunoo stands beside him, laughing with his whole face like the world isn’t currently built to stress him out. jungwon is there too, shoulders relaxed, eyes sharp like he’s watching everything at once, and jay is mid-story, hands moving dramatically as he talks, the kind of person who can turn midterm dread into a joke if he tries hard enough. then you see niki, and he’s already got that gleam in his eye that means he’s about to cause problems purely for entertainment, and he’s standing in a loose circle near the kitchen island like he’s holding court. and then jake is there. you spot him before you can pretend you didn’t. he’s leaning against the edge of the counter like he belongs there. one hand holding a shot glass, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messier than usual like he didn’t bother making it perfect. the light in the kitchen makes everything look warmer than it should, and it catches the line of his jaw when he tilts his head back to laugh at something heeseung says. he looks easy. he always looks easy. that’s what makes him infuriating, and it’s what makes a part of you go tight with something you refuse to name. heeseung nudges him with his elbow and says something you can’t hear over the music, and jake’s mouth curves into that lazy, controlled grin that used to feel like a weapon when it was aimed at you in class. niki lifts his shot glass like he’s toasting the concept of poor choices, and jake mirrors him without hesitation, like the motion is automatic. heeseung claps his hands once and calls out, “okay, okay, pre-midterm therapy shots” and his voice cuts through the noise just enough to carry. jake tips his head slightly and says something back with a calm confidence you can’t hear, and the fact that you can’t hear it makes you want to move closer. listen. and also makes you want to turn around and leave immediately.

eunchae notices your stillness because eunchae notices everything, and she leans in close enough that her hair brushes your cheek. “don’t,” eunchae says softly, and she doesn’t even have to specify what she means, because you know. don’t glare. don’t overthink. don’t turn this into a war in your head. you swallow and force your shoulders to relax. you let kazuha tug you toward the living room like it’s no big deal, like your pulse didn’t just spike. sakura says something cheerful to someone passing by, chaewon accepts a drink with a polite nod, yunjin laughs at a joke that barely registers in your ears. and you try to make yourself match their energy because you don’t want to be the person who ruins the night with your tension. but your eyes flick back to the kitchen anyway, because you’re not made of stone, and because jake is still there, tipping a shot back with heeseung and niki like he’s immune to consequences. like midterms aren’t going to chew everyone up next week. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up-just briefly-and for a second you think he’s looking at you. your stomach tightens. then he turns to heeseung again like nothing happened. like he didn’t just shift your entire nervous system with one glance you’re not even sure was real. and you hate that you’re standing here calculating him while pretending you came to relax.

you take a drink from the cup kazuha presses into your hand, the plastic warm from someone else’s grip, and you tell yourself this is fine. it’s just a party. it’s just noise. it’s just one night before midterms start to swallow the campus whole. and yet, when another round of cheers erupts from the kitchen and you hear heeseung shout, “again!” you find your gaze drifting back like it has its own gravity, because jake is laughing at him again, head tipped slightly, eyes bright, and niki is already pouring another set of shots like he’s committing to the bit. the music is louder in the kitchen. of course it is. it always is, because that’s where the shots are, where the counters are sticky and the floor vibrates slightly from too many people shifting their weight at once. eunchae is the one who pulls you closer without asking, because she lives for this exact chaos, and chaewon follows with the calm composure of someone who can drink and still remember formulas the next morning. sakura slips into the circle smoothly, smiling at heeseung like she’s amused before he even says anything, and yunjin is already hyping someone up about midterm “survival shots,” while kazuha stays half a step beside you, steady and quiet. you don’t intend to end up next to jake. you just do. heeseung is laughing mid-sentence, one hand thrown over niki’s shoulder, the other pointing dramatically at jake like he’s narrating some grand victory, and jake is leaning back against the counter with a shot glass in his hand. he looks easy. he always looks easy. it makes your jaw tighten before you can stop it.

niki finishes pouring and slides a glass toward jake. “pre-midterm cleanse” niki declares with a grin that’s already too sharp to be innocent. heeseung claps jake on the back. “jaeyun,” heeseung says loudly, proud and teasing at the same time, “i heard you killed that preview, dude. professor kim mentioned it in office hours. said it was ‘impressive.’” jaeyun. the word lands wrong. not for the room. the room just laughs. someone whistles. sunoo leans in with an exaggerated “of course he did” and jake goes still, small and brief, half a second you wouldn’t see if you weren’t watching him. his fingers tighten around the shot glass. his jaw locks. then he says, flat and immediate, “don’t.” heeseung blinks. “what?” he asks, and jake doesn’t smile as he tells him, “you know i hate that.” heeseung laughs like it’s a joke. “hate what? it’s your name,” he says, and jake’s eyes flick up for just a second, not defensive, not embarrassed, just sharp. “not here.” jake says. the music swells again and someone shouts from the living room, and the moment almost gets swallowed whole. heeseung lifts both hands in surrender. “alright, alright. jake” he corrects lightly, still grinning, but you’re still watching, because that wasn’t embarrassment, and it wasn’t annoyance. jake lifts the shot glass and tips it back without breaking eye contact with the counter before setting it down harder than necessary, the sound clicking sharp against the granite. niki notices, of course he does, and he mutters under his breath, “damn, touchy” not loud enough to escalate it. because jaeyun doesn’t belong here. jaeyun belongs to professors mentioning him in office hours. to expectations. to quiet admiration. to something polished and impressive and untouchable. jake belongs in kitchens that smell like tequila and lime, and the fact that he separates the two so instinctively makes something shift in you. heeseung pours another round. “okay, redemption shot for over-praising!” heeseung laughs, and jake doesn’t protest as he reaches for the glass again. you step closer without meaning to and tell him, “maybe slow down” leaning in just enough so the music doesn’t swallow your voice. jake glances at you and asks, “why?” and there’s something steady about him, not sloppy, not even that tipsy yet, just a little looser than usual. you fold your arms lightly and say, “we have rehearsal tomorrow” and jake tilts his head slightly as he answers, “and?” you reply evenly, “and i’m not covering for you if you show up hungover.” the words are simple, but the air changes as niki goes quiet and jake doesn’t look away. “i didn’t ask you to.” jake says, calm and controlled, but with an edge under it, and you answer, “you don’t have to.” that lands harder because you both know what it means. you stepped in before. you adjusted. you smoothed it out. you made it seamless. jake sets the second shot down untouched this time and says, “you don’t get to manage me.” not raising his voice, not sneering, just stating it like a boundary. your jaw tightens as you reply, “i’m not managing you. i’m being realistic” and jake asks, “about what?” with something sharper in it now. you say, “about the fact that this project doesn’t just affect you” while the music pulses through the cabinets and someone shouts your name from the doorway and you don’t look.

jake studies you like you’re an equation he’s not sure he wants to solve and says, “of course i’ll show up” and you reply before you can stop yourself, “that’s not what i’m worried about” making his eyes narrow slightly as he asks, “then what are you worried about?” you don’t say what you’re actually thinking. you say, “that you think this doesn’t matter,” and jake lets out a quiet, humorless breath as he says, “it matters.” you tell him, “then act like it.” and that’s when it snaps, not loud, not explosive, just clean, as jake says low, “i don’t need you to supervise me.”. you shoot back, “and i don’t need you to pretend you’re invincible,” there’s a flicker in his expression at that, not anger, something else, as he asks, “you think this is pretending?” you don’t hesitate when you tell him, “you always try to make it look easy” and the words hang between you.

the room stays loud around you. people laughing, someone bumping into heeseung and apologizing, yunjin dragging sakura toward the living room, chaewon saying something dry to jungwon that makes him grin, but the space between you goes quiet. jake holds your gaze and then says, very quietly, almost too quiet for the room he’s standing in, “jaeyun doesn’t get to screw up.” it isn’t dramatic. he doesn’t look at anyone else. he doesn’t elaborate. he says it like it’s obvious, like it’s fact, and you don’t respond because suddenly you understand. not fully, not perfectly, but enough.

jaeyun is the version people brag about in office hours. jaeyun is the one professors mention by name. jaeyun is the golden one. jaeyun doesn’t drink too much. doesn’t hesitate in presentations. doesn’t need help. doesn’t misstep. jake does. and jake hates when the two get confused.

he picks up the untouched shot and slides it back toward niki instead. “not that one,” jake says flatly, and niki raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, just sliding the extra shot back toward the bottle with a little clink like he’s filing it away for later. you should step away and you should let the moment dissolve, but jake is standing there, jaw tight, gaze fixed somewhere between the counter and the floor like he’s forcing his thoughts into a straight line, and you can’t not say it when you tell him, “don’t do this” your voice low enough that it shouldn’t carry even though the way his attention snaps up makes it feel louder anyway. his eyes flick to yours as he asks, “do what?” you fold your arms lightly because if you don’t put your hands somewhere you’ll fidget and if you fidget you’ll look like you care too much, replying evenly, “drink like you don’t have consequences. rehersal is tomorrow.” his mouth twitches like he’s about to make a joke, but he doesn’t, instead exhaling slowly through his nose and saying, “i’m not getting wasted” and you point out, “you’re doing shots” only for him to answer, “so is everyone else” and when you tell him, “that’s not an argument” his gaze sharpens as he says, “it’s not supposed to be.” irritation flares, quick and familiar, and it would be so easy to slip into the old rhythm, but you’re not trying to win right now and you’re trying to keep tomorrow from collapsing, so you say, “jake. we have rehearsal. we have the dataset response. we have q&a framing. if you show up hungover, i’m not doing this alone.” and something flashes in his expression fast enough that anyone else would miss it, not anger but offense at the idea underneath it, as his shoulders square like he’s bracing and he says, controlled, “you’re not doing it alone y/n.” while you lift your chin and tell him, “then act like it.” his eyes narrow and for a second it’s like the room blurs and it’s just you and him and the edge between you that always seems to sharpen when you least expect it as he replies, “i am acting like it.” and you say, “you were literally about to take another shot” and he looks at the counter and back at you and says, “because we’re at a party,” and when you press, “and?”, he answers, calm but strained anyway, “and i can handle it.” and you say before you can stop yourself, “i don’t care about that.” he pauses, a small, dangerous pause, and then asks too evenly, “what is it about then?” you don’t answer immediately because the truth sitting behind your teeth is messy. because you saw him flinch when heeseung said jaeyun. you saw him go still like someone had grabbed him by the throat with expectations. you don’t know what to do with the fact that it made you want to step closer instead of away, so you pick the cleanest version and say, “it’s about tomorrow. i’m not risking this because you want to ‘let loose’ tonight,” and he gives a short laugh that doesn’t match his eyes as he says, “you think this is me letting loose?” and you blink and ask, “what else would it be?”.

his jaw flexes and he looks like he’s about to say something and stops himself, the silence filling up with all the things you both keep circling without naming. he asks, louder than you expect and definitely louder than the music, “you think i don’t care about tomorrow?” as it cuts through the room like someone yanked a cord and the kitchen doesn’t go silent but it shifts, people pausing mid-laugh, mid-sip, mid-sentence, heeseung’s grin faltering, jay’s eyebrows lifting, jungwon straightening slightly, and even sunoo’s smile dropping into something curious while your stomach drops. not because of the words but because of the volume. but because jake doesn’t do loud unless he’s cornered. heeseung leans across the island sensing tension like a shark sensing blood and grinning like he lives for drama that isn’t his. “yo, are you guys arguing about regression models right now?” and jay laughs and says, “please tell me you are” while jungwon’s gaze flicks between you and jake, calm but alert. niki stays beside jake watching him with that sharp, almost-too-aware expression he gets when he knows exactly where the line is and is waiting to see who crosses it. you keep your expression steady even though your pulse jumps as you reply, “that’s not what i said.” and he steps half a pace closer, not aggressively but enough that you feel it, saying sharper than the first, “stop supervising me.” and that’s the one that gets everyone’s attention because now it isn’t just a disagreement. it’s personal. heeseung’s eyes widening slightly like he’s just realized he walked into something real, jay’s mouth opening like he’s about to make a joke and then shutting, jungwon’s gaze staying fixed on jake, measuring. niki moves, not dramatically and not like he’s body-blocking, just a casual step closer to jake’s side with his shoulder brushing jake’s like he’s inserting himself into the orbit before the gravity gets too strong. niki says lightly with a warning under it like a leash tightening, “okay. don’t be weird,” while jake doesn’t look at niki and keeps his eyes on you as he continues, still loud enough to carry and still controlled enough to not sound drunk, “you’ve been acting like i’m irresponsible. like i’m going to blow this up.” you inhale slowly to ground yourself and repeat, “you’re doing shots” because it’s the only factual thing you can cling to without falling into whatever this is becoming, and he shoots back, “and you’re acting like i’m not going to show up.”

you say, already regretting the wording because fix is the wrong word and fix is the trigger word and fix makes it sound like you think he’s broken, “i’m acting like i don’t want to have to fix it” and jake’s eyes flash as he says, “there it is. that.” and when you ask, “what?” he says, “that tone. like you’re already planning to cover for me” while niki taps jake’s shoulder once as a quiet signal and murmurs, “bro” trying to pull him back without making it obvious, but jake doesn’t move. heat rises behind your ribs as you say, steady, “because i have. i have covered for you. you don’t get to act like that’s not true”. niki steps between you, “okay, okay, time-out. this is a kitchen. not a therapy circle,” and jay snorts, relieved at the escape route, adding, “yeah, take your academic trauma somewhere else.”

the tension doesn’t dissolve, it just gets pushed aside like furniture, and niki uses the moment, leaning in closer to jake’s ear with concern masked as annoyance as he says, “you’re getting heated. chill.” while jake replies automatically, “i’m fine” even though the words don’t match the stiffness in his shoulders, and niki mutters, “you’re not,” before straightening and raising his voice just enough to sound casual as he says, “come on. breathe. you’re gonna start arguing about dataset framing in the tequila zone” drawing a couple laughs as jake exhales through his nose and, like his body finally remembers the room is full of eyes, lets niki steer him backward, not because he’s weak but because he’s choosing control. before jake turns away fully, he looks at you again. the music is loud enough to blur edges, the kitchen lights too bright, and when someone bumps into the counter behind you tequila sloshes dangerously close to the rim of a plastic cup, the party keeps moving like nothing just cracked open in the middle of it. you’re still standing exactly where the argument stalled, and he studies you for a second. not long enough for anyone else to clock it but long enough for you to feel it land. his jaw tight, not angry, not defensive, just braced, and you don’t even know what you would’ve said if niki hadn’t stepped in. you don’t know what you were about to accuse him of. jake’s mouth moves before he can stop it as he says, “you really think i don’t care?” not shouted but loud enough to cut through a dip in the music. niki’s hand tightens on jake’s shoulder as he says under his breath, “don’t.” while jake doesn’t look at him and keeps his eyes on you. and then, softer, so soft it barely survives the bass vibrating through the cabinets, jake adds, “you think i’d care this much if it wasn’t you?”

 it isn’t performative or dramatic, sounding almost irritated, almost exasperated, like he’s frustrated you don’t already know. no one reacts because no one heard, and the world doesn’t pause. but you do, because the sentence doesn’t feel like a joke or ego or rivalry. it feels like something that slipped past his filter. jake’s expression shifts a fraction, not regret, not exactly, more like awareness, like he realizes the line crossed some invisible boundary he’s been pretending isn’t there. niki doesn’t push it, only leaning in again as he says low, “okay. that’s enough.” you stare at jake trying to translate it into something safe, because it could mean he cares about the project because you care and it could mean he cares about being seen by you. it could mean-

but before you can answer or even breathe properly, sunoo shouts from the living room, “jake! come drink like a normal person!” and niki tightens his grip on jake’s shoulder as he says louder with his grin back in place like armor, “yeah. come on, romeo. stop fighting in the kitchen” and jake turns toward the noise and then back to you one last time, not regretful and not taking it back, just aware, before letting niki pull him away into the living room where bodies and music and laughter swallow him like nothing happened. but something did. you’re left standing in the kitchen with your drink untouched in your hand, the plastic cup warm against your fingers, the bass vibrating through your bones, and the sentence replaying in your head like a glitch you can’t close out of. across the room jake is on the couch with niki leaning in close to his ear and saying something that makes jake run a hand through his hair like he’s trying to reset, and he looks up and your eyes meet for a second, and you don’t know what to do with the fact that he doesn’t look away first, so you look down at your cup and back up. but he’s still there, still watching, not competitive and not amused and not careless, just steady. like that sentence didn’t belong to the party noise. like it belongs to something else. something you’re not ready to name. and you hate it because you can’t tell whether it was nothing or whether it was the first real thing he’s said to you all semester.

the rehearsal room is too bright, not warm-bright, not late-afternoon gold, just fluorescent and unforgiving, the kind of light that makes everything look sharper than it feels, and you get there early, telling yourself it’s because you want one uninterrupted run-through before the final presentation, because timing matters, because transitions matter, because if you shave three seconds off slide seven the conclusion lands cleaner. it totally has nothing to do with not wanting to walk in at the same time. the room is empty when you unlock it, the projector humming faintly as it warms up, and you set your bag down, plug in your laptop, pull up the deck, click through slide one. slide two. slide three. your reflection flickering briefly across the white screen before the first title loads, and you stare at it longer than necessary because the party sentence replays anyway.

you think i’d care this much if it wasn’t you?

it’s not even the full sentence every time. sometimes it’s just care this much- then again if it wasn’t you- you swallow as the door opens. not turning immediately because you hear him first. the soft click of the handle, the measured steps across the floor. no rush, no hesitation. he drops his bag in the chair near the back wall and says, “morning,” in a tone that is completely normal. you click to slide four and reply, “morning,” just as normal, and that’s the problem. he moves to stand beside you instead of across from you, close enough that you can feel the residual cold from outside clinging to his jacket but not close enough to touch. without looking at him you ask, “do you want to start from the methodology or the intro?” and he answers easily, “intro. timing felt slightly off last time” slight, not wrong, not flawed, just slight. you nod once and begin, moving through the introduction smoothly, pacing measured, voice even. he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t adjust your wording, doesn’t correct emphasis. and when you finish the opening section and glance at him out of habit he nods once and says, “good” that’s it. no “tighten the transition“, no “slow down on that statistic“, no raised eyebrow, no subtle challenge, just good. you move into the framework section and he takes over on cue. clean, no stumble, no hesitation, no improvisation. efficient. too efficient. you wait for him to cut you off when you overlap slightly on slide six, but he doesn’t. when you reach the conclusion the room feels wrong, you click to black and silence fills the space where debate should have been.

he checks his watch and says, “three minutes under” and you answer, “that’s fine” and he nods and says, “that’s good” and you hate how agreeable that sounds. you cross your arms without meaning to and say, “you didn’t interrupt once.” he looks at you with mild curiosity and replies, “you didn’t need interrupting” and you answer, “that’s not the point” he tilts his head slightly and asks, “what is the point then?” you open your mouth. then close it. you look back at the blank screen instead of at him as the fluorescent lights hum. and after a moment he says, “you adjusted slide eight. the transition is cleaner,” and you respond, “i know.” - “i noticed” he adds, and when you look at him and say, “okay” it’s just another calm acknowledgment. no spark, no competition, no ego. smooth. too smooth. and that unsettles you more than last night did. you pick up the remote just to have something in your hand and say, “this feels weird.” and he replies, “i think the presentation looks fine” and you say, “i know.” he studies you a second longer than necessary and asks, “you want to focus on delivery?” and you answer, “that’s not what it is” he asks again, neutral, controlled, open, “what is it y/n?” and the sentence from last night presses against the back of your throat. because he said it like it meant something and now he’s standing here like it didn’t. you turn fully toward him and ask, “what did you mean?” no build-up, no softening, just direct. jake doesn’t pretend not to understand, doesn’t ask you to clarify, doesn’t deflect to slides. just meets your eyes and says, “you know” and you hold his gaze as you tell him, “don’t do that.” and when he asks, “do what?” you gesture vaguely between you and say, “that. answering without answering. avoiding.” his expression stays steady as he says, “i’m not avoiding it” and you reply, “it feels like you’re acting” after a pause he says evenly, “i’m not.” and the phrasing lands heavier than it should because he’s right. he’s not acting different. he’s acting normal. and that’s what’s wrong. you almost pivot, almost reach for the laptop, almost say this is stupid, almost redirect to slide transitions. old instinct telling you to hide in structure, hide in competence, hide in measurable things. but you don’t. you stay where you are as the silence stretches and the projector fan hums quietly behind you. jake waits. not impatient, not pushing, just there. and that’s worse, because now you have to decide whether you’re going to say it or pretend you didn’t hear it at all. and you don’t pretend, not this time.

“you don’t get to say something like that and then act normal.” you tell him, the words steadier than you feel. jake doesn’t look surprised when he replies, “i told you i’m not acting.” you shake your head and insist, “jake, you said it like it meant something”, and he holds your gaze as he says, “it did.” you hesitate, then push forward. “then why are we standing here like we didn’t just-” you stop yourself before finishing and amend, “why are we standing here like this is just rehearsal?” jake answers evenly, “because we have a presentation in a week.” - “that’s not what i mean” you reply. and when he says, “i know” without softening, it only sharpens your frustration. “you said it,” you continue. “you wouldn‘t care if it wasn’t me.” - “yes” jake says. you take a step closer and tell him, “then don’t stand there like you didn’t.” jake responds, “i’m not saying i didn’t” and you counter immediately, “you are acting like it didn’t shift anything.” he studies you, then says, “i’m just not turning it into something chaotic.” - “it already is chaotic” you argue. jake corrects you quietly. “it’s chaotic for you.” you look away, jaw tight, and say, “you act like none of this costs you anything.” he stills and asks, “costs me what?” - “energy. focus. whatever it is,” you answer, gesturing between you. “you act like you can compartmentalize it and move on.” and after a brief pause, jake says, “when you look at me like i’m effortless, it makes me feel invisible.” you frown and respond, “that’s not what i’m doing.”- “i didn’t say it was intentional” he replies. “invisible how?” you ask. jake inhales and answers, “like i don’t have to try.”-“that’s not fair” you say. “why?” he asks. “because i never said you don’t try.” jake answers quietly, “you don’t have to.” you open your mouth, then shift your wording. “you make it look easy.”- “that doesn’t mean it is” he says. “i know that” you insist. jake meets your eyes and asks, “do you?” you hold his gaze for a second too long, because you don’t. not really. you know he studies. you know he prepares. you know he isn’t coasting on instinct. but you’ve always framed his control as natural, like composure is something he was born with instead of something he built. you think about the way he never looks rushed, the way he never looks unsure, the way you’ve used that steadiness against him in arguments like it proved he was less affected.

you swallow. “i-” you start, but the word stalls before it can turn into defense. he watches you closely, not accusing, not smug. just waiting. and for the first time it occurs to you that maybe you’ve mistaken his restraint for indifference, and the realization doesn’t settle gently- it shifts something, sharp and destabilizing, and you inhale slowly as it rearranges the ground under your feet. “and the kiss?” you ask, not softening it or circling it, and the words hang between you like something thrown too hard to retrieve. jake doesn’t blink or laugh or reach for a safer angle. he just says, “not strategy.” clean and final. you stare at him. “not-” you begin, then stop, because your mind is still trying to file it under something controlled, something tactical, and you swallow before asking nothing at all. jake adds evenly, “i don’t kiss people i’m competing with.” as if that should settle it. your chest tightens. you demand, sharper than intended, “what are you even saying?” he holds your gaze and replies, “you think i’d complicate this if you didn’t matter?” the calm certainty of it lands harder than raised volume ever could, and you struggle to categorize his expression-no smirk, no defensiveness, nothing easy to dismiss. he watches you think and says, with the faintest edge, “you’re thinking too hard.“- “i’m not,” you answer automatically and force yourself back to something concrete. “you said it didn’t mean anything.” he corrects you without flinching. “i said we were drunk.”- “i wish i knew what you were thinking.” you reply, quieter now. jake nods once. “i know.” you press further. “and the night at your dorm. the-” your voice falters, but he doesn’t make you finish. “that wasn’t nothing either,” jake says simply. your pulse jumps. he continues, measured, “i didn’t want to reduce it to…that.”- “to what?” you ask. “to a mistake.” he answers. you swallow and say, “but you acted like you did. after.” his jaw tightens slightly as he admits, “because it was easier.”- “for who?” you challenge. “for both of us.” jake replies immediately. the truth of it stings, and you try to steady yourself. “so what,” you say, “you’re saying it wasn’t to throw me off?” his eyes narrow, in quiet offense. “you think i’d need that?” you freeze, realizing the implication. jake holds your gaze and says, level and deliberate, “i don’t do things like that to win. not with you.” heat rises behind your eyes, but you keep your voice even. “then what was it?” he doesn’t look away. “it was me not stopping,” jake says. your breath catches. after a beat, he adds, quieter, “and it was me letting you see that.” the room feels too bright as you try to process it.

you just stand there, stunned, as he meets your gaze steadily, like he’s been waiting for you to understand. and something in you finally stops fighting for an explanation that keeps you safe. he watches you and repeats, softer but no less certain, “you think i’d complicate this if you didn’t matter to me?” because the truth is too clear to ignore. he didn’t lose control. he chose exposure. he chose- oh.

OH.

of course. of course that’s what it was. of course that’s why the silence after the phone rang felt like grief. of course that’s why the “we were drunk” excuse tasted wrong in your mouth even as you used it. of course that’s why the smoothness today feels worse than any argument. because he wasn’t treating it like nothing. he was treating it like something he didn’t know how to hold. and he still came back, he still showed up, he still stood beside you.

your throat goes dry. you almost laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it’s absurd how long you’ve both been circling the same obvious truth like it was dangerous. you almost say something sharp, almost turn it into a joke, almost protect yourself with cleverness. you don’t. you just stand there, stunned, your heart beating too hard in a room that is too bright, looking at him like he’s a new variable you didn’t account for, and he looks back like he’s been accounting for you the entire time. jake steps closer, not quickly, not like he’s trying to corner you, just one measured step that makes the air shift, and your body reacts before your pride does. you step back automatically, heel catching the leg of a chair as you steady yourself with one hand on the table, fingers splayed against the cold surface, that sharp flare of panic igniting under your ribs. not because you don’t want him but because you do. because wanting him has already proven it can turn your brain into static. because you remember the dorm hallway and the dim lights and the way you let yourself slip before pretending you hadn’t.

jake stops immediately he doesn’t follow, doesn’t close the space you created, just pauses like he’s reading the step back instead of taking it personally. that restraint hits harder than anything else. “y/n,” jake says, low. a careful test to see if you’re still here. you swallow. “i don’t want it to be like that again” you say before you can polish it. his brow lifts. “like what?” jake asks. “you know,” you reply, hating the wavering edge in your voice. “complicated. messy. the next day. the pretending.” jake holds your gaze, steady. “it won’t be.” jake says. you let out a short breath. “you can’t promise that.” - “i can” jake answers, certainty flipping your stomach. you search his face for the catch and find none. “how?” you ask. his jaw tightens slightly. “i’m not confused” jake says, and the sentence lands like a firm hand at the back of your neck. “you’re saying you were confused before?” you press. “no,” jake replies, shaking his head once. “i’m saying i’m not going to act like i am.” your throat tightens. “i kissed you because i wanted to.” jake says, simple and clear, and the words hit your chest like weight. he watches your face. “that day,” jake continues, “after the midterms. when i apologized. i wasn’t trying to fix anything. i wasn’t trying to make you forgive me. i wanted to kiss you.”- “jake-” you start, but he keeps going. “you asked me if it was still research in my dorm,” jake says. “and i told you it wasn’t,” you whisper, “i meant what i said. and i didn’t just mean it then.” silence swells. “i kissed you because i wanted to.” jake repeats quietly. “and i’m not going to pretend it was an accident. not the café. not the dorm.” you reply as your fingers curl against the table. “and the arcade?” jake asks, careful. heat creeps up your neck. “i wasn’t drunk,” you admit. “not enough to not know what i was doing.” jake waits. “and what were you doing?” jake asks softly. you force yourself not to retreat. “i kissed you because i needed to know” you say. “know what?” jake presses. “if it was real,” you answer, the word too big and too honest. “or if it was just me being stupid.” - “you’re not stupid-” jake says immediately. “that’s not the point,” you reply, breathless. he steps closer again, slower this time, giving you the chance to move. you don’t. “the café kiss wasn’t an accident,” you say. “i told myself it was.” jake’s jaw tightens. “and the arcade was me trying to see if it felt the same.” his eyes flicker. “and?” jake asks, lower. “it did.” you answer. the room feels suspended. “i wasn’t sure what it was… feelings, you know?” you admit, sharp and terrifying in their simplicity. “i’ve had them. i just didn’t want them.” jake’s expression shifts, something loosening. “yeah,” jake says quietly.

he steps close enough now that you feel his warmth, not touching, just there. “i’m sure,” jake says. “about you. about this. and i’m not going to make you guess. not anymore.” you stare at him, stunned by the simplicity, your fear not gone but reshaped into something smaller, something survivable. because he’s cutting off the pretending and the uncertainty right here. with certainty, with choice, with you standing in a room that’s too bright and finally not pretending you don’t want what’s in front of you. he’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him. not touching, just there. “you don’t have to overthink this,” jake says quietly, not teasing, not challenging, just steady. you swallow and answer, “that’s a big ask” and a faint, almost private smile touches the corner of his mouth before jake replies, “i know”. the silence stretches between you but it isn’t sharp anymore, it isn’t defensive. it’s something thicker, waiting. his hand lifts slightly-not reaching yet, just hovering like he’s giving you one last exit he won’t take and never has. your heart pounding hard enough you’re sure he can hear it. “for once,” you say, breath uneven but voice sure, “i don’t want to fight this anymore.” and his eyes soften. not weak, not gentle, just certain. jake answers, “then don’t.” without closing the distance, without forcing it, simply waiting, and this time you don’t step back.

the air feels heavier now. thicker in your lungs. you can feel his warmth without touching him, like your body already knows what it wants before your brain catches up. jake’s eyes drop to your mouth again. slower this time. deliberate. your breath shifts first. then his follows. you step into him. his hand comes up carefully. his fingers brush along your jaw, then slide to the back of your neck. his touch is controlled, grounded. like he’s steadying both of you. you don’t give him time to reconsider. you kiss him. it starts soft- it doesn’t stay that way. his lips move against yours with quiet certainty that makes your knees feel weaker than they should. he exhales into your mouth, warm and unguarded. your hands slide up his chest automatically. your fingers curl into his shirt like you need something solid. he pulls you closer firmly. your bodies line up. there’s no space left between you. you feel his breathing against your own. you feel the tension in his shoulders where he’s trying to stay composed and failing. the kiss deepens. your mouth parts and he follows. slower now. more deliberate. his hand tightens at your waist. his other hand slides into your hair. his fingers thread gently but possessively at the base of your skull. it isn’t frantic like the dorm. it isn’t restrained either. it’s hungry in a quieter way. your pulse spikes when his tongue brushes yours, enough to make your breath hitch. he makes a low sound in his throat. it goes straight through you. you tilt your head and press closer. the control slips a little. the kiss turns deeper. warmer. slower and more consuming at once.

his hands slide from your waist to your hips. he holds you there like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. you break for air. he doesn’t move far. his forehead rests against yours. his breathing is uneven. his lips hover close. he kisses you again. not your mouth this time. the corner of it. slow. then along your jaw. your pulse jumps when his mouth trails lower. he presses kisses beneath your ear. then down your neck. “jake-” you breathe. there’s no real protest in it, just surprise. his lips curve faintly against your skin. “you remember,” jake murmurs near your collarbone, kisses inbetween his voice, low and rough, “how that night ended?” your fingers tighten in his hair. “i remember a phone call-” you manage. he huffs softly against your neck. “i remember you pulling me down like you’d already decided,” jake says quietly and kisses your neck again “i remember you telling me it wasn’t research,” heat floods your chest. he presses another slow kiss to your skin. “and i remember not finishing it.” the words land low and clear. his hand slides slightly higher at your waist and he reminds you how close you are. “so,” jake says, lifting his head enough to look up at you, eyes darker but steady, “should we finish what we started in my dorm?” your face burns. you push lightly at his chest, while grinning at him. “jake.” you warn, but you’re smiling. he raises a brow. “what?” jake asks. “you’re unbelievable.”- “you were pretty committed,” jake replies smoothly. “against the wall. on the-” you press your palm to his mouth before he can finish. “presentation first.” he kisses your palm lightly before lowering your hand. his grin widens. “you’re ruthless.”- “focused.” you correct softly. you glare at him, but it’s playful. he leans in once more and brushes his lips against yours. shorter this time. lighter. a promise instead of a culmination. “fine,” jake says, stepping back half a pace. “slides.” you inhale slowly and steady your breathing as he moves beside you again. close. not touching. your shoulders brush. neither of you pulls away. you click to the next slide. he leans closer to look at the screen. his voice is lower now and a bit awkward. “slide seven transition still needs tightening,” jake says. you glance at him sideways. “prove it.” he smirks. the room feels different now. not too bright. not too quiet, just charged.

presentation day arrives a week later with sunlight too bright to ignore. the campus feels sharper this morning. colder almost. the air is crisp in a way that makes everything feel like it matters more. you’re already in the rehearsal room when jake walks in. not because you’re anxious. just because you like the quiet before everything starts. the projector hums softly. slides are open. your laptop glows against the dimmer walls. you hear him before you see him. measured steps. no rush. the door closes behind him. you don’t turn immediately. “you’re early” jake says. you click to the title slide without looking up. “so are you.” a beat passes. then warmth at your side. his hand slides lightly to your waist. he leans in and presses a slow kiss to your temple like it’s something he’s been doing for months instead of six days. your pulse still jumps. “morning,” jake murmurs against your hair. you try not to smile. “morning.” he lingers half a second longer than necessary before stepping back. there’s no awkward checking of boundaries. it’s just easy. you glance at him. he’s wearing a button-down you haven’t seen before. sleeves rolled once at the forearm. hair slightly messy in a way that looks accidental but isn’t. “you changed the shirt” you say. jake glances down. “it’s presentation day.” - “you had a perfectly good one yesterday.” he raises a brow. “this one’s better.”- “for who?” you ask. “for me” jake replies. you narrow your eyes. he steps closer without asking. his fingers brush the edge of your collar. he adjusts it carefully. “you’re crooked,” jake says. “i am not.” you roll your eyes but let him fix it. he then teps back and scans you like he’s reviewing a final draft. “better.” jake says. “you’re insufferable.”- “you’re welcome.”

the door opens again. niki walks in mid-yawn and stops. he looks at you. then at jake. then back at you. “…wow.” niki says slowly. you stiffen slightly. jake doesn’t. “what?” jake asks mildly. niki gestures between you. “you two are-“- “rehearsing,” you interrupt. niki squints. sunghoon appears behind him, already dressed like he’s heading into a boardroom. he clocks it immediately. “finally.” sunghoon says under his breath. your cheeks warm. jake doesn’t deny it. he just picks up the remote. “run-through?” he asks you calmly. like nothing has shifted. like everything has. you nod. sunghoon watches for another second and then smirks. “don’t let it make you sloppy” sunghoon says. “it won’t,” jake replies. “it makes us efficient,” he adds. niki makes a face. “gross.” but you both ignore him as the room settles. slides advance. you begin. your voice is steady. jake transitions seamlessly. it feels familiar but different. there’s no edge now. no attempt to outpace each other. when you pause, he fills the space smoothly. when he emphasizes a point, you support it instead of challenging it. it feels less like a duel. more like rhythm. after a few minutes jake cuts in gently. “slide eight transition.” you glance at him. he smirks slightly. you narrow your eyes. “still think it’s weak?”- “hardly” jake says. you step closer so your shoulder brushes his. “how hard?” you whisper. niki groans. “please do not flirt over regression analysis.” jake leans in and lowers his voice so only you hear it. “not now,” you glance at him. “focus.” he smiles faintly. “i am.” you try not to think about last night. the way his voice sounded when he said your name. the way he held you like he had nowhere else to be than on top of him. you swallow. jake notices immediately. “you’re pacing” jake says quietly. “i’m not,” you cross your arms. “i’m preparing.” -“are you nervous?” -“i’m not.” he steps closer again.“you don’t need to be,” jake says. you look at him. he doesn’t look nervous. of course he doesn’t. “are you?” you ask. he shrugs lightly. “not really.”- “that’s suspicious.” a corner of his mouth lifts. he leans closer. “last night helped” jake murmurs near your ear. heat shoots up your neck. you elbow him lightly. “jake.”- “what?” he asks innocently. “we are about to present.”- “i’m aware.” you try to glare but fail. he straightens.

down the hall the auditorium door opens. your names are called. it’s time. jake looks at you. not competitive. not challenging. just steady. “you ready?” jake asks. you inhale. the nerves are still there. but they’re different now. “yeah,” you say. he holds your gaze for half a second longer and nods once. “let’s go.” he doesn’t grab your hand. not yet. but as you walk toward the stage together, your shoulders brush.

the lights on stage are warmer than the rehearsal room but just as exposing. you step forward when your name is called. the clicker feels steady in your hand. you don’t look at jake when you begin because you know he’s exactly where he needs to be. “good morning,” you say, your voice carrying clearly across the auditorium, and the introduction unfolds smoothly as you outline the core question, the scope, and the limitations of the institutional dataset without rushing, your pacing deliberate and controlled. when you reach the final line of your opening, you glance at him briefly and jake steps in seamlessly. he doesn’t shift the tone. he builds on it. his explanation of the methodology is concise and precise as he walks the audience through the regression model without overcomplicating it. he gestures toward the slide and highlights only what matters. the transition between you feels natural, not stiff with rehearsal. you step slightly aside to give him space. when he finishes, you move back in without hesitation and guide the audience into the comparative analysis. on slide seven your mind blanks for half a second. the statistic you intend to cite slips just out of reach. jake fills the space smoothly. “as reflected in the secondary regression output,” jake says, supplying the number without breaking rhythm. you nod once. “exactly,” you continue, reclaiming the flow as if the pause never happened, and the presentation keeps moving. you reach the section where the supplementary dataset appears on screen and a subtle shift ripples through the room because it isn’t part of the original brief. you explain the expansion clearly. “while the university-provided dataset offered strong internal validity, it lacked longitudinal depth beyond the institutional sample,” you say. jake continues without missing a beat. “we integrated an external dataset to test whether the observed pattern held under broader conditions,” jake explains. you advance the slide and the comparative visualization appears. “it strengthened the predictive consistency.” you conclude. the presentation moves toward the final section and you and jake stand closer now, not alternating distance but occupying the space together. the conclusion lands cleanly. you summarize the implications and jake reinforces them. the final sentence is delivered in alignment, not overlapping and not forced. you both stop speaking at the same time. applause follows, stronger than you expected.

the q&a begins. a judge leans forward. “you chose to incorporate an external dataset that was not included in the original materials. why take that risk?” the judge asks. you answer first. “we wanted to test whether the trend we identified was institution-specific or structurally consistent,” you say. jake adds, “relying solely on the provided data would have limited the robustness of the conclusion.” you continue, “the supplementary dataset allowed us to evaluate predictive stability across a broader sample.” the judge nods slowly. “and you’re confident in the reliability of the external source?” she asks. “yes,” jake replies calmly. “it’s peer-validated and publicly archived. we verified the methodology before integration.” the judge leans back. “ambitious,” she says. “but well defended.” when the final question ends, the moderator thanks you and you thank the panel. as you walk off stage, the noise of the auditorium softens behind you. your hand brushes jake’s at your side and this time neither of you pulls away immediately. “you recovered slide seven,” you say quietly. “you set it up,” jake replies. you glance at him and he looks back. the competition isn’t gone. it just feels different now. and for the first time all semester, you know exactly why.

the hallway outside the auditorium feels strangely quiet once the doors close behind you, the applause fading and voices blurring into background static so that for a second it’s just the two of you under harsh overhead lights with adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. your hands warm and your pulse unsettled as jake exhales slowly and rolls his shoulders like he’s releasing something he’s been holding for weeks. “you were annoyingly good,” you say before you can stop yourself, and jake glances at you with calm amusement before replying, “you weren’t bad” which makes you narrow your eyes and repeat, “not bad?” and he tilts his head slightly and corrects, “impressive. if we’re being honest” and you fight a smile and fail because the energy between you feels lighter now, not tense or sharp, just charged differently.

from inside the auditorium you hear sunghoon begin his introduction and you turn toward the sound automatically and say, “they’re starting” and jake follows your gaze and answers, “yeah” and you lean back against the wall for a moment, letting the adrenaline settle enough to think clearly before adding casually, “they still have to present…” and jake looks at you and asks, “and?” but you don’t answer right away, instead pushing off the wall and stepping closer, not rushed or dramatic, just enough to shift the air as you continue lightly, “and that means we’re technically free for the next hour” and his expression changes almost imperceptibly. his eyes sharpening as he says quietly, “oh-” while you pretend to consider something important and then tell him, “you did well. better than i expected” and he raises a brow and replies, “that’s concerning” and you continue evenly, “you should be rewarded,”. and when he asks, “for the presentation?” you correct him, “for being composed. it’s rare.” and he steps closer so you can feel his heat again. his gaze locked on your eyes and asks, “and what exactly does that reward look like?”. you glance toward the auditorium doors before answering, “your dorm’s close” and the silence that follows is charged rather than awkward as jake’s jaw tightens slightly and he mutters, “you’re for real?” and you reply, “it would be efficient” he lets out a short laugh and says, “you realize i’m going to remember this” and you answer, “i hope so ” and for a second neither of you moves until his hand finds your waist and pulls you half a step closer, natural and unhurried, and you don’t resist as he looks down at you and says softly, “you were so nervous,” and you answer, “i wasn’t.” and he insists, “you were,” and you don’t argue as his thumb brushes lightly against your side and he adds, “you didn’t need to be.” and you admit, “you filled my gap” and he smirks faintly and says, “i always will.” which makes your stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with adrenaline. applause breaks out again from inside and you tilt your head and say, “they’re going to be good,” and jake replies, “probably” and you add, “but not better,” and he studies you and observes, “you’re still competitive?” and you respond, “i’m still winning.” and he leans closer and asks quietly, “are you?” and you meet his gaze and answer, “yes.” after a long second he slides his hand more firmly around your waist and pulls you fully in before pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek, affectionate and certain, and you let your hand settle against his chest as he steps back and his hand lingers a moment longer before you say lightly, “walk faster,”. he raises a brow, “is that an order?” and you answer evenly, “it’s a suggestion”. he steps in just enough to shift your breathing before murmuring, “careful. you’re being very brave for someone who’s about to be alone with me.” and you tilt your head slightly and reply, “then don’t let me win.” which makes his grin slow and deliberate as he says, “you know i don’t lose,” then adds smoothly, “after you.” you turn toward the exit with sunlight spilling through the windows as you pick up your pace, hearing his footsteps behind you, unhurried and certain. you reach the doors first because you like the head start, but he reaches you a second later. he always closes the gap.

DON‘T FORGET TO INTERACT AND LMK IF YOU LIKED IT THX- taglist — let me know if you’d like to be removed or added for future fics ♡ @yazziiyy @jaehyunluvsnct127 @mid0risims @moonxjake @mortallynumberonecoffee @heavejae @marigold55 @meowieshibal @heartsski @psjelee @evxnsbae @jjongsies @hii01mii @nshmriki @en-chantedtomeetyou @inspiredchaos @aheewonenthusiast @heesuengswife @allinitformofusand @yourgirlyoi @moonlitmyg @marghe-22 @aeryyr @pinkmaciej @slut4riki @vampjaeyun2 @tmtxtf-library @yoiiaoki

[minhosimthings]

Chocolate Sauce

Synopsis: In which you lick Jake's abs and leave a very angry Jake with hickeys on his stomach

Pairings: Bf!idol!Jake × fem!idol!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering, reader licks Jake's abs, oral (f and m), overstimulation, rough sex, mean dom Jake, sub reader, swearing, mention of food, choking, angry sex (meow)

A/N: GUESS WHO DROOLED WHILE WATCHING JAKE DO THE GUILTY CHALLENGE. THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. So blame Jake not me because bitch had to do that shit on my period. I wanna touch those abs so bad it's actually so bad I hate myself. Anyways, enjoy this shitpost y'all peace.

Sim Jaeyun never failed to amaze you. Even as your boyfriend of three years, about whom you knew probably everything about, he always was succesful in pissing you off, or worse, riling you up. And sometimes when both of the phenomenons happened at the same time, it was a time of bliss for Jake.

"What the fuck Jayeun?" You threw your head back to look at your boyfriend, on whose thigh you were currently sleeping. He looked handsome as ever, hair all messy and fluffy, with the usual grin imprinted on his face. "What happened baby?" He pouted as you got up from his thigh and sat in front of him. "Please tell me I did not just see you acting like a whore on stage right now on my for you page." Jake turned his head sideways, an adorable thing he did when he was confused, and peeked into your phone. A devilish smirk formed on his face as he saw what was causing your current state of distress. "Oh that?" He mused, leaning back against the bedframe, "Yeah I did the Guilty challenge. Pretty good right? You know, Riki was saying my dancing impro-" "I don't give a fuck about the dancing Sim Jayeun." You cut him off, eyes faltering at the way he was looking at you, "I'm talking about the way you literally just showed your abs to every fucking person in that room."

To say that you were jealous was an understatement. Of course Jake had officially taken a pledge that he would never show his abs to anyone except you. And you remembered that the pledge also included not showing it to engenes.

"Aww." Jake cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into your chest, "Is my girl jealous?" Resisting the urge to kiss his strawberry lips, you decided to pick up your phone and scroll through your reels, completely ignoring your boyfriend.

"Come on baby-" Jake smirked, leaning closer to your face, "-you know you can't resist me for more than five minutes." His last words were finished in almost a rough whisper, which knocked you off your wind. "I'll forgive you if you do one thing for me." You finally responded, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. "Order away, princess." Jake cocked his head to the left, smirk ever omnipresent on his stupidly handsome face.

"Let me lick your abs."

You didn't know whether it was out of pure shock, or pure embarrassment that Jake choked on air, but he did and accidentally smacked you in the head. "Jake!" You rubbed the back of your head with your hand. "You wanna do what now?" He spoke in a unusually grave voice, looking at you with bedroom eyes.

"Sim Jayeun I think I said it clear enough." You scoffed, "I want to lick your abs. If you don't wanna do it, that's fine I guess." You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back against the bedframe, getting back to your phone. "Alright then." Jake got up swiftly from the bed, and moved out of the room, walking a pace faster than usual. You tried not to think much about it, as you scrolled through the reels again, your fingers distracting you from wherever Jake was, until you heard the sound of your fridge bang close.

"Jake what are you doing?" You quizzed as Jake walked in, a bottle held tightly in his hands. He plummeted down next to you on the bed, and leaned in, giving you a tiny peck on the cheek. "Here." He nudged the bottle into your hand, forcing you to drop your phone into your lap, which he immediately took and hid in the bedside drawer. "Jaeyun!" You reached for your phone, trying to climb over him, "Give me my phone back." "Not until you read the label of that bottle baby."

You rolled your eyes and took the bottle in your eyes, peering to read the lable written in big glittery letters. "Chocolate Sauce?" You sniggered, "What the fuck do you want me to do with it?"

"Well I figured-" Jake popped open the cap of the bottle, "-since it's not pancake season and you don't use it for anything, why don't you lick it off of my abs?"

Your eyes widened at Jake, as he leaned back further, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. For perhaps the first time in the entire evening, you noticed how truly scrumptious Jake looked in messy hair. "Jak-" "oh come on princess." Jake leaned closer to your ear, "I know you want to do it so bad like the slut you are."

His rough voice made your legs shiver. Jake had unbuttoned his shirt already, giving you a full display of his carved chest and abs. You held out a hand to stroke it, but Jake was quick to grab it with his. "Not until you lick them baby." He let go of your hand, "Are you scared princess?"

You meekly shook your head, and removed your shirt faster than Jake could blink an eyes. He slid a hand behind to your back, fingers searching to unclasp your bra. "Or should we leave it on?" Jake removed his hand from scratching your upper back, "I wanna see those nice tits bounce around in that cute little fabric which isn't hiding shit by the way." He leaned over to kiss your cheek again, "You could have asked for something new you know. Would have loved to buy you something in pink."

You took the open Hershey's bottle in your hand, and took a deep breath before turning it upside down and letting the gooey liquid come out, drizzling over Jake's abs. Jake let out a wince as it touched his skin, probably from the cold temp of the sauce. Anything for his princess though, he thought, enduring the cold grip.

"It doesn't hurt does it?" You spoke, uncertainty grazing your tone, "Maybe I should get-" "shh princess." Jake cooed at you, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb, "Just lick them nothing hurts." His strict tone made you falter again, as you licked your lips, leaning over his body as he settled himself in the bed.

You moved towards his abs, taking in how beautiful they looked under the brown sauce. Lowering your tongue to them, you glanced up at Jake. His eyes were closed, and his eyelids were barely moving. As dead as a fish, you thought.

"Ooh princess-" Jake let out a moan, as your tongue touched his abs. You didn't know if it was the fact that the it was probably expired, or the fact that you were licking it off of Jake's belly, but man did the sauce taste good. You really didn't have a taste for sweet things, preferring your coffee bitter and your waffles without honey. But oh god, did sugar taste good when you were licking it off of Jake's belly, your tongue dying to have a taste of his cock.

"Mm-babe-ah fuck." Jake moaned, his voice grasping for more as he traced your hair with his fingers, unconsciously gripping them harder. Your tongue moved swiftly across the board of Jake's tummy, your fingers digging into the sides of his abdomen, desperately searching for more. You could feel the bulge in Jake's pants, rubbing against your belly as you leaned further in, mouth almost begging to have a taste of your favourite poison A thin line of sweat decorated your brow, as you closed your eyes, sinking into Jake's muttered words. "Mine. All mine." He mumbled in between sweet moans. Drunk on the feathery touch of your tongue on his skin, as it moved slowly, licking up all the sticky sweet substance, he didn't even notice that he was pressing your head further and further down. "J-Jake." "Shut up and go suck my cock right now." He commanded, making you whimper as you wiped off the chocolate from your mouth. You had never seen Jake like this before, eyes akin to a wolf filled with desperate hunger.

You quickly unbuttoned Jake's pants, hands fumbling as you did, while he looked on at your figure, all trembling. He loved seeing you like this, like a lamb going off to the slaughter house. It heightened his ego greatly, seeing his princess be so obedient towards him.

You pull his jeans down and mouth at his clothed dick. You began to suck the tip and run your tongue over the slit. You loved the taste of him in your mouth. He was heavy and warm. "Fuck your mouth feels so good." Jake moaned out, his hand resting on the top of your head. You take more into your mouth and you deep throat him. He touched the back of your throat before you looked at him to start fucking your face. He pulls out before slamming back in. He does this a few times as you sputter around him. You weren't expecting him to be so hard to take as he fucked your throat. He moved against your mouth as you sucked him for everything he had. You wanted him to cum in your mouth. He pressed deeper in your throat as you gripped his thighs in hopes of him letting up.

"Fucking hell, you are such a slut." Jake chuckles as he pulls out, to see your mouth coated in his cum. "Just for you." You pant, wiping your mouth with the towel Jake handed you. "Hmm" Jake groaned, moving slightly to make space for you to rest in his arms. "...'m love you princess." He mumbled as you drifted off into sleep.

"L/N Y/N you are in big trouble." Jake's puppy eyes appeared on the screen of your phone, as you picked up the call. "You know usually people greet their partners with a 'hey babe' or a 'i love you till death'." You giggled, moving on with your laundry. Thank god it was the holidays and your members weren't there to annoy you about Jake, you thought as you slammed the washing machine door close and returned to your boyfriend's angry face. "Y/N I swear to God-" Jake sighed, plopping into a chair, "Do you know how much my stylist scolded me today? And do you wanna know the reason why?" Although you already knew what was going to come out of Jake's mouth, you decided to play innocent, wanting to make him more angry. You did always love when he was angry.

"Why baby?" You pouted, widening your eyes and setting your phone down on the table, at a mischievous angle. "You know why princess." Jake's angry tone came through again, "For all the marks you left on my stomach yesterday? They wanted to put me in a crop top today like all the members but instead, because of you, I had to stay in a fucking jacket." "Hmm" you shrugged your shoulders, "sad." You spoke, before cutting the call abruptly. You giggled in response to nobody's joke as you hopped off of the kitchen counter and opened up the fridge to find something to eat, waiting eagerly for Jake to get back home.

Anger was an emotion which was a rarity for Jake. Even when he did get angry, it would usually be playful anger, with Niki or Jay. But somehow you managed to piss him off to his guts, and as he rode in the car, with Sunghoon side eyeing his furrowed face, he thought of all the ways he could punish you as soon as he got home and layed his hands on your body.

"Ah fuck it." You curse as you burn your toast, having left it on the stove for too long. You had wasted a lot of time admiring yourself in front of the mirror, tracing your eyes over the pretty bra you wore, one of Jake's favourites. And now, as you silently waited for your boyfriend to come home, fumbling with the straps of your bra, you wondered what he was going to do to you.

The keyhole clicked twice at the sound of a key being pushed in. You barely had time to get any words out of your mouth as Jake can stomping in, a dark expression clouding his face. There was little time to brace yourself for Jake's next move. You're pressed against the wall before you can protest, although you wouldn’t dare object to this.

“You love when I make you feel good, don’t you baby? Who’s my good girl?” And that’s what did it for you, your eyes rolled back and you tightened around his fingers, but Jake wasn’t taking just that response this evening. He put his fingers in your mouth, and he asked again with raised eyebrows, “What was that? Who’s my good girl?” His fingers lingered down to your throat, applying just enough pressure so that you could still talk. “Yours, only yours” you replied. He nibbled your ear, smirk still prevalent on his face. He whispered in your ear once more,

Jake grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wedging your hips with his own, keeping you steady. A new hardness presses against your core as he juts his hips into you, pure instinct taking over his movements. His cock twitches in his jeans - he needs to watch his cock sink into you, to watch your face contort in bliss when he bottoms out in your pussy. The friction on your swelling clit was rough and warm, with Jake's cock perfectly nestled atop your drenched slit. Each rough push shot pleasure through your core, but it wasn’t enough for your aching cunt.

He moves the two of you to the couch and putting you on your hands and knees before pulling your pants down. He played with your thong before pulling them off too. His tongue goes straight into your little hole which causes you to scream. He tongue fucks you for a little bit before moving up to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth which has you pushing back on his mouth. Jake continues until you are almost there but he stops.

"No-Jake." You whine, jutting out your bottom lip. "You don't get to fucking cum until I say so, got it?" Jake growls, making you whimper and sink into the couch.

He presses his cock to your hole and presses inside. The stretch felt like it would never end. As he pressed in, you felt full already and he was not even half way in. You moan as Jake whispers about you being his whore and that he isn't going to let you go. He keeps fucking up into you with fever and the only thing you could do was to take it. You had no choice with how good he was fucking you.

"Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, totally entranced by the way your pussy warped with his size, swallowing his cock into your soft walls. He bucked his hips on instinct and struck you deeper. You cried softly against your hand, trying to quiet yourself when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix.

With another set of thrusts you became undone around him, clenching down onto Jake's cock, letting out a high-pitched moan as your orgasm flowed through you. Jake hissed through his teeth at the warm, fluttering sensation, satisfied at your soft moans falling out of your slacked mouth.

"Attagirl, just keep goin'," Jake said sweetly, pulling and pushing your hips in the same rhythm as before. The overstimulation took you over and left you whimpering, sending soft pleas of slow down, it's too much, to your boyfriend.

Your sweet pussy clenched around him and he rubbed your clit as he bounced you up and down on his dick. You got closer and closer before you climaxed. It felt as if you were drowning. You could only scream as Sam doubled his efforts and you orgasmed again. "Jake please-I"

"One more princess, just one more," he says before thrusting harder. He thrusts one last time before spilling into you. His orgasm triggered yours and you squirted a lot onto his lap. He looked down and smiled at his achievement.

"You look so fucking hot right now," He said as he kissed your neck again. "Jake, I don't think I can go another round." "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you can." He said before circling your clit.

You arch your back as his fingers slip inside of you, along side his dick. He pulled out but left his fingers in. He played with the cum inside as he fucked you with his fingers. He wanted you to cum one last time. It didn't take long before you did and almost fainted in his arms.

Jake swooped you up carefully in his arms, and carried you to the bedroom, where he cleaned you up with a towel, before settling in beside you. You crawled upto him, wrapping your arms around his waist, stroking his abs, as you listened to his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry about the hickeys." You mumbled into his chest, too ashamed to show your face. Jake smiled warmly and stroked your hair, a complete contrast to what he was minutes ago. "it's alright." He kissed the top of your forehead, "Let's not pretend like I never gave you hickeys right before your Inkigayo stages." You chuckled weakly to his words, and buried yourself under the blankets, with the taste of chocolate forever lingering in your mouth.

[rikihuras]

𝕹𝖔, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖎𝖓’𝖙 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖓𝖔 𝕸𝖗𝖘

⠀ ⎯ ♥︎̼̻ ⠀ ⠀ ͟❀ᮬׁ࣮✧ ⠀ ꫶ ㅤ𖥟

[minhosimthings]

Jay: How was the honeymoon?

Heeseung: Jake got drunk and tried to destroy our marriage certificate.

Heeseung: He said "good luck trying to return me without the receipt".

Heeseung: I love him.

[minhosimthings]

Blue Days Yellow Nights

Synopsis: Y/N of the Black family of the wizarding world had finally gotten into Hogwarts, the magical school of witchcraft and wizardry, only to find out she had been sorted in a house which the entire world would not accept. And along the path, she meets a cute boy, with a secret behind his collar. And let's just say the secret can be kept, between two people.

Pairings: Hufflepuff!Jake × Ravenclaw!Fem!reader, includes rest of Enha, Wonyoung and Gaeul from Ive, Yunjin from Lessrafim, Sana from Twice, Joshua from Seventeen.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of angst, descriptions of pain, mention of scars, mention of food and alcohol, they're idiots in love your honour, swearing

A/N: YAAS MY BABY IS FINALLY OUT OF THE OVEN LOOK AT HER. SHE'S SO AMAZING. real tho I worked hard on this shit cause it's been in my brain ever since I started writing on Tumblr. As an intense potterhead and engene, combining these two things was heaven to me. And yes all magical facts in this are fact checked by me through the Harry Potter Website. She's my favourite child. I don't care if she doesn't get notes she is MY FAVOURITE CHILD. As always feel free to give feedback!

Song rec!

"Gryffindor!" Oh great, you thought as Danielle, the friend you had made on the train ride to the magnificent castle of magic, ran over to the table of the brave, where the lion roared and the swords never rested. Of course, she had to be in Gryffindor. A house which your family had resented for centuries. The most noble house of Black, that was where you were from.

Your cousin Sirius waved to you from the Gryffindor table. 'Traitor' you thought as he applauded along with everyone else when Danielle sat down at the table. To be a member of the most noble house of Black was to be a member of the most prestigious house of Slytherin. Bellatrix, Narcissa, Andromeda, Regulus, they all waited at the Slytherin table, wearing robes of expensive green and drinking from golden goblets. Waiting for you. For you, the youngest member of The Blacks to get sorted. You crossed your fingers as yet another black haired boy got sorted into Ravenclaw. "Sim, Jake", Professor McGonagall called out. A fit young boy with messy dark brown hair, came out excitedly from the group of scared first years. He was so.... happy? His face was much more uplifting than those surrounding you. While all the other first years looked like they were about to pee their pants, the boy, Jake, looked so happy and excited, like a golden retriever. You resisted the urge to smile, when he jammed the Sorting Hat onto his head, and it slightly fell down, hiding his eyes. He broke you out of your slight hypnotic state of staring the all the people in the Slytherin table, trying to find out your cousins. "Hufflepuff!" The Sorting Hat shouted out, to which Jake slightly jumped up and ran over to the applauding Hufflepuff table, where he was met with smiles and handshakes and a greeting from the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost. You were so distracted by his happy eyes and his overall positive energy that- "Miss Black, would you consider stepping onto the platform please?" Minerva McGonagall's voice was stern. Oh damn. First moment of school and you already embarrassed yourself. Just like your mother said you would.

You quickly apologised to Professor McGonagall who curtly nodded, and stepped onto the platform, sitting on the stool and gently placing the Hat onto your head, strands of hair coming onto your face. "Oh you're a puzzle aren't you?" The Sorting Hat whispered into your ear. A voice only you could hear. How interesting. "You know deep down who you are don't you?" The Sorting Hat asked you. "Well yes. And no. I don't know Mr hat." You thought, hoping that the Sorting Hat would hear you. You heard a chuckling sound in your ears, a comforting sound, you thought. "I know who everyone really is my dear Black." And with that the Sorting Hat screamed out, "Ravenclaw!". Silence. Eerie silence was what filled the Great Hall. No one clapped like they had done for the other children. You sheepishly took off the Hat and placed it back on the stool, and took off to the Ravenclaw table, where curious eyes awaited you. Awkward, you thought. First day of school and I'm a disappointment. Different thoughts filled your head as you were on the way to the Ravenclaw table. All the thoughts, however broke, when you heard clapping coming from the Hufflepuff table. The Hufflepuffs? Clapping for you? The next child didn't get sorted yet. They were clapping for you. All headed by a fluffy brown haired boy, who was clapping the hardest. He gave you a wide smile as you glanced at him and sat down quickly next to the dark haired boy who had gotten sorted earlier. The clapping subsided after a while as the last two people got sorted into Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively.

"Well students old and new!" Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the school had risen from his golden chair at the staff table. "Dig in!". All the students cheered loudly and clapped as food appeared out of thin air and settled comfortably on the golden plates. Oh god the food. It looked delicious. Only problem is that you weren't hungry. Your appetite escaped as soon as you heard the word 'Ravenclaw' coming out of the rip in the Sorting Hat. You stared endlessly at the roast chicken and bread, and instead sipped on your pumpkin juice.

"You gonna eat or not?" The dark haired boy next to you asked you. He had a sharp jaw line and cat like eyes, and a butterfly shaped birthmark on his neck. You were slightly startled by his voice, which snapped you out of your stupor. "Um no thank you I'm full." "Yeah? You're rumbling tummy says otherwise." And that seemed to be the perfect time for your tummy to let out a sound again. The boy chuckled softly and put roast chicken on your plate. You mumbled a thank you to him and started eating, regaining your appetite again, as you threw small glances now and then at the boy.

"Are you going to keep looking at me like that or are you going to introduce yourself?" The boy's husky voice rang in your ear like a sudden siren. "What?" You asked him, scolding yourself for being rude. You lifted your arm slightly to adjust your slipping robes, accidentally knocking over the boy's goblet of pumpkin juice "Oh I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. Let me clea-" The boy waved his hand at your rambling and put a finger to his lip to shush you, subtly pointing out how the people were staring at both of you. "It's alright. The juice didn't get on these robes so we're good." You smiled warmly at him. This was the first time you had had normal human interaction ever since the train ride, where every person would look at you, as if you were a snake, ready to pounce on them and inject your venom in them. Extending a hand forward to the boy, you introduced yourself. "I'm Y/N. Y/N Black." Firm grip, you thought, as the boy took your hand and shook it. "I'm Jay. Jay Park. It's very nice to mee you Y/N. Would you like to be friends as payment for knocking over my pumpkin juice?" You giggled slightly, amused at Jay's kind manners with you. It surprised you that someone would still want to be the friend of a person who came from one of the most notorious wizarding families of the world. "I would love to be your friend. I also noticed something-" you leaned a bit towards his ear. "Are we both the only Ravenclaw first years?" Jay chuckled a bit at your question and took a bite of his toffee pudding. "It seems so." He replied after a long while of chewing his bite of pudding. "It's weird but not impossible. My great uncle was the only Slytherin in his year too you know." Slytherin? "Wait wait are you the Jay Park of the most famous wizarding family in the world?" He looked at you with an amused expression and smiled. "Well aren't you a member of the famous Black family too? And yes I am." He sighed heavily before continuing. "I am a part of the family whose history is filled with bloodshed and Gryffindors." He glanced over at the Gryffindor table with distaste. "I wonder what my family will think when I tell them I'm a part of the smart house." "Same here. I'm pretty sure I'll be disowned." Both of you laughed at that as your heart lifted gently. Jay was nice to you. And he related to you a lot, what with both of you coming from families who deemed themselves 'pure'. "Should we make a pact? If both of us do get disowned?" You asked Jay, who turned to you with curious cat eyes. Then he picked up a spoon full of pudding and motioned for you to do the same thing, which you did. "Alright , if both of us do get disowned, we are going to steal some money from our home, run away and live somewhere in the countryside, where we'll have umm.... three cats! And a dog. And a dragon." Saying that, you ate your spoon full of pudding, Jay following suit. "Maybe not the dragon and the cat part. I'm allergic to cats."

"Oh are you the only two Ravenclaw first years who got sorted?". Jay and you had gone up to the Ravenclaw prefects when they had shouted out for first years to follow them. The rest of the students, majority of them I'm Gryffindor had already gone up to their towers, while you two were still stuck with the prefects, Sana and Joshua. They were sweet and kind and made you think of springtime for some reason. Jay and you shipped them whenever they turned away. "Alright come on you two." Joshua clapped his hands together. "Sana just went to inquire Professor Flitwick, our Head of House, and it seems, in this rare case, both of you are going to have to be roommates. Usually the girls and the boys are split up, but your dorm room is big enough for the both of you. Is that alright with you?" You both nodded at Joshua's words, which he spoke so gently, that it kind of surprised you. "Alright then follow me!"

Woah. That was both of your reactions when Joshua and Sana had led you up to the Ravenclaw Tower. It was so... ethereal. Gorgeous, stunning, eye catching, every synonym for the word 'beautiful' came to your mind when you saw the interior of the Ravenclaw Tower. It had large windows, perfect for your stargazing, you thought. The moon was out tonight, and through the slightly blue stained windows, it looked like Heaven's sleeping figure. The common room was decorated with stars that actually shone and a big bookshelf, full of volumes, that you would only dream of seeing. There was a door ajar to your left, which you assumed was a painting room, what with the smell of paint and the ruffling of paper coming in from the room. "Do you like it? It's going to be your home now." Sana asked you. "It's- it's gorgeous." You stuttered out to her. She was so pretty, like an incarnation of an angel, with wide eyes and the prettiest red hair you've ever seen. "Alright just going to set some ground rules. You guys can sit down first." Jay and you plopped onto two warm armchairs, made out of oak. They had the words 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure' carved all over them. Carved. Just like how your face will be on the Black tree. "Alright first of all-" Joshua started. "You guys already know most of the basic rules because I assume you were listening when Professor Dumbledore was speaking." You heard Sana mumble something along the lines of 'dude you weren't even paying attention'. "So you know how each dorm has passwords? Well to enter our dorm, we need to answer a riddle, which will be given by the eagle outside. You don't always have to necessarily give the right answer. You just need to use your wit. And if the Eagle thinks you are worthy, you're in!" Jay and you both looked at each other, comprehensive looks decorating your faces. A riddle? You were the worst at riddles. Oh well. Anything to have this beautiful dorm all to yourself. "Second of all-" Sana started "You can bring people from other houses in here. Only if they can answer an additional riddle at the door. Although I highly doubt you two are going to do anything like that, so ignore I even said that." Joshua laughed at that as you and Jay just stared, awkwardly. "Anyway." Joshua said, once he stopped laughing. "The last rule is that you must never abandon each other all right? You two are the only Ravenclaws in your year so you must stick to each other like glue. Yes you should make friends from other houses but you should always have each other's backs got it? Now off to bed chop chop!"

"Soo should we glue ourselves together now? I know a spell or two." Jay suggested as both of you plopped onto your respective beds in your dorm room. The room was just as pretty as the common room, with two oak beds, and a large window, looking out into the Giant Squid's home. You could slightly see the Squid now, tossing about in the water. You made a mental note to give it a piece of toast the next day. "Dude how are going to make friends from other houses? Just walk up to them and say hi and that we would like to be their friends?" You asked Jay, who was wiping his glasses. He shrugged his shoulders and put his glasses on the beside table, before pouring himself a glass of water from the silver goblet. "I guess" he finally responded after downing his water. "I mean let's just stay together until we get more comfortable here. And we can make friends with some of the older Ravenclaws too can't we?" You simply hummed in response to that question. You had seen some of the older Ravenclaws at the table tonight. Some of them stared at you and some of them simply ignored you.

‌"Jay can I tell you something?" Jay looked at you abruptly and nodded slowly. You let out a big sigh as you prepared to tell a boy you met today, your greatest secret. "Alright don't laugh and promise me you'll never tell anyone else." Jay held out his pinky to you and intertwined it with yours, making a pinky promise. "I am an unregistered Animagus." Blink blink. Jay's eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to register what you just said. "Y/N, please tell me you are not kidding right now." Wait what? Most people would usually laugh at you if you told them you could turn into an animal at will. But Jay's face was contorted with seriousness and a bit of excitement. "Y-yeah I'm not joking. I am an Animagus. I can turn into a lynx cat. Wanna see?" "Oh my god Y/N!" Jay jumped from his bed to yours, startling you. Why was he so excited? "Alright you're not gonna believe this. I thought I was the only one! Did your parents turn you into one when you were eight?" "Yeah they did. How in the hell do you know that?" As if to respond to your question, Jay stood up and shook his head. His hair faded and his nose slowly enlarged to form a beak. An eagle! He was an eagle! With mighty wings and the most sleek brown wings and strong, sharp talons. "Now your turn" Jay said, turning back into his normal form. Turning into an Animagus wasn't as painful as the rest of the wizarding community made it out to be. People always assumed that an animagus' skin would tear apart every time they would turn, but that wasn't true. It was more gentle, and calmer. "Woah Y/N. I've never seen a lynx cat before." You lay on the bed in your cat form in front of an amazed Jay who gently scratched your head, providing you with the ultimate pleasure. You were quick to turn back and explain your entire story to Jay, which was eerily similar to his. Both of you had been turned by your familes at the age of eight, against your will. Both of you hated your families so much, always so thirsty for blood purity, like vampires. "So secret kept?" You held out a pinky to him, which he intertwined with his. "Secret kept."

‌"Oh well night then Jay. See you tomorrow." "Night Y/N." As both of you drifted off to excited sleep, your heart lifted from where it had been earlier. Seeing all these people who were nice to you, like Jay, Joshua and Sana and that peculiar Hufflepuff boy, it made you think more about whether or not you were actually hated by the world. Maybe you were hated, by most of the world, but then again you've got to make up your own world now. And the first people in it was going to be all the friends you were determined to make tomorrow.

"Oh my god we have potions first!" You squealed in excitement at the breakfast table. Bacon, eggs and toast layed the Ravenclaw table and as you and Jay peacefully at your toast with jam, you looked over your timetable. "You that excited for potions? Best subject?" Jay asked you curious, with a mouth full of orange juice. You nodded fervently as you picked up some more scrambled eggs to lay on your plate. "My cousin Andromeda used to teach me when I was nine. And plus I like to believe I'm a natural chemist." You flopped your hair over your shoulder as Jay rolled his eyes. "Well I think we'll be doing the more easy ones first." Jay got out his potions book. "So I'm sorry your highness but you won't be able to use your amazing potion expertise." You slapped his arm playfully, before a bell rang and most of the older students started getting up. "Oh there you are you two." Sana called out to you and Jay. "You need to go to the dungeons alright? For Professor Snape's lesson. It's just round the corner. You want me to take you guys?" You felt a bit embarrassed, having to get lead by a prefect to your first class. So you politely declined Sana's offer, to which she smiled and gave you the directions instead.

"God this castle is so beautiful." You commented as Jay and you walked down to the dungeons. The brick walls, painted with red and paintings hanging everywhere on rusty nails. There was a painting of some shamans who screamed at you while a kind lady picking peaches asked you if you wanted some.

"You're late." Snape commented as you and Jay turned up at the doors of the dungeons. "We apologise sir. We lost our way in." You started, but Professor Snape simply waves his hand and directed both of you to come in and sit on the benches. Hufflepuff. You were having a class with Hufflepuff. And that boy was there. He was in his robes, with messier hair than it was the night of the Sorting. You tried not to catch his eyes but apparently the universe is always against you, and as you caught his eye and he gave you a smile, you felt your cheeks burn red. "Dude quit blushing so much." Jay scolded you as both of you got out your ingredients.

"A perfect potion? That's surprising." Snape complemented you as you and Jay gave him your completed potion tubes. "Well I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Miss Black. You are, after all the cousin of my most favourite student, Andromeda. Very well. Five points to Ravenclaw." You would have taken the points very well, if not for the fact that Snape had added in the point that you were a part of the Black family.

"Y/N you alright? You seem a bit peaky and pale and you haven't said a word for like five minutes." Jay slightly nudged your arm. "I'm fine Jay." "It's about your family isn't it?" How did Jay always read your mind so perfectly?

Before you could respond to Jay's question, you felt something hit yoir head sharply. You cried out and fell on your knees. Whatever hit you head was sharp and hard and it probably did more damage than you or the attacker anticipated. "Aww look at the little Black sheep. Get It? Black sheep!" You heard some girls and boys laughing behind you. They were of Gryffindor house and they were in your year. They were coming back- you assumed, from Herbology, as they were covered in dirt and they still had dragon hide gloves on. "Hey are you insane!" Jay shouted at them and helped you get up, your head still dizzy. "Oh what? Can't take a joke Park?" The tallest of the boys said. He was the one who threw something at you and he laughed the loudest. "Hey!" A voice shouted behind you. "Pick in someone your own size!" That boy. That Hufflepuff boy. He charged at the Gryffindor and pinned him against the wall, the latter's head banging against the fading cement. Your head was still spinning so much, and as you leaned against Jay's frame, you could hear the voice of someone older, possibly Joshua and someone else. "Jay- I don't really fee-" Black.

"Oh good you're awake." You were laying in a very big hall, laden with beds everywhere. A hospital wing, you assumed. You also made the assumption that you probably passed out. "Y/N are you alright?" Sana was pressing a cold compress to your head. "What happened Sana?" Sana gave you a pitiful smile, before giving you a glass of pumpkin juice and explaining. "You passed out Y/N. That gryffindor boy is in detention right now, don't worry. Turns out he hit you with a pot. Which is honestly mental. I would have bewitched him right then and there, but unfortunately I am a prefect-" she frowned a bit at that "But that boy got to him before Joshua could. That Hufflepuff boy." That Hufflepuff boy. You sat up so fast that Sana flinched. "The what? Is he here?" You whipped your head around the room, trying to spot a batch of messy brown hair. Sana put an arm around your shoulder and said "Babe, no he's not here. He also got detention unfortunately, even though he did the right thing. Listen hon, I gotta go. It's kind of late and it's a full moon night, Josh and I have our monthly date tonight And I don't wanna be late. Jay got some of your clothes for you." She motioned toward the bedside table where an extra pair of robes lay. "So you can change here and come down in the morning alright? Jay told me he'll bring your bag down to the Hall at breakfast tomorrow. So rest up well hm?" You thanked Sana for her help, and as she left the room and the school matron extinguished the candles in her office, leaving for bed, you couldn't help but not ignore the feeling in your stomach. Some feeling. Do eleven year olds usually feel this? Whatever this was? It wasn't nausea, no you didn't get nauseous that easily. Was it chickenpox? Nope definetly not that. Your period? Yeah no it had just ended. Was it the feeling of finally being defended by someone that you felt like falling in love with a person you don't even know just because you've known loneliness for so long that you pounce on the tiniest bit of attention?....... Yeah it was probably that.

The moon was full tonight. It looked like a cheese wheel, with a rabbit shape carved on it. Faint white light seeped in from the windows, illuminating the dark room, and allowing you to look at all the beds, empty and quiet. Of course. It was the first day of school. No one would get injured on the first day of school. Well, almost no one. "Hello?" You called out in the room, your voice echoing as the vibrations hit every magical brick which was used to build this magnificent chamber. Great. No one is there. Not even the matron. This was perfect, you thought as you slowly removed your sheets and got out of the bed barefoot, careful not to make a sound. This wasn't a crime was it? Only the moon was watching tonight, and you were sure that she wouldn't tattle on you. And I'm very sure she didn't, as she watched you hair start to smoothen and your skin turn blackish-grey, whiskers clinging to the sides of your nose. The Moon silently applauded as she watched you transform into a lynx cat, all smooth and gracious with your careful padded steps. You stretched your body out, groaning internally at how stiff it was, and turned your eyes towards the entrace to the hospital wing. The door was open. Oh could this night get any more luckier? It was dark, midnight, and a lynx cat would roam around this magical school, without the knowledge of anyone. Magical isn't it?

Strutting out the front door, you carefully checked your surroundings, making sure not even an ant was present. No one could ruin your plan of walking through the palace right now. You were amazed at the size of the castle. It was bigger than the universe, you thought as you climbed yet another moving staircase, easily jumping from one to the other with your cat skills. It was good that your animagus was a cat, you thought, as you jumped onto the seventh floor. You could climb into whatever you wanted and easily jump from one structure to the other, making it easy for you to move efficiently and fastly.

Awoo! Wait what was that? You turned your head so fast, that your whiskers made a whoosh sound. You heard something. You heard a howl. A Wolf's howl.

A Wolf's howl? Could it be another Animagus in school? Perhaps and older one? Or maybe it was? No it couldn't be. They would never allow a werewolf into this school. Shaking your head, you continued to walk along the stone path, and leapt onto a pillar, prepared to leap off to the sixth floor, when..... Awoo! The sudden sound made you lose your balance and as you made your way back to the rock hard tiles on the seventh floor, curiosity got the better of you. You made your way to the source of the sound, your excellent ears gently guiding you.

A statue. There was a statue with the inscribed words Barnabas the Barmy. There wasn't a door or anything. But the sound was coming from here. You were certain of it. Your cat ears never failed you once and you trusted them enough to turn back into a human and press your ears to the wall, to make sure what you were hearing wasn't a dream. Nope wasn't a dream,you thought as you kept hearing the sound. You were about to go back to the hospital wing, creeped out the sound , when a sudden memory popped into your mind. The Statue of Barnabas the Barmy on the Seventh floor. Yes Narcissa told you about something on the seventh floor. What was it? You snapped your fingers a few times to try to jog your memory back to when you were ten. The room. The Room of Something.

You remembered what it did. It would only show itself to someone in times of great need. Narcissa had once opened it when she needed to hide from some Malfoy boy. You asked yourself again and again whether or not you should try opening it. What would you think? Would you be able to open it merely by thinking, 'Hey I need this place to open up because I need to know where the source of the sound is coming from'? That would work but it was a risk. What if there was some evil contained inside the room and opening it would make you Pandora from the myth of Pandora's box?

You turned back into a cat, ignoring your heart's protests of having an adventure and trying to open the the mysterious room. There was a werewolf or something there, but you weren't going to risk being stuck inside of a wall for all eternity. Maybe later, but not today, you thought as you strode back to the hospital wing, tail held high in the air and whiskers proudly displayed.

"You did WHAT?" Jay whisper-shouted to you the next day at breakfast. You had told him what you had done the night before, to which he almost spat out his pumpkin juice and out his hands on his hips, like a scolding mother. "Y/N. Please give me a warning before you tell me shit like that. Im gonna go into cardiac arrest if you do shit like that." "Oh please Jay stop being such a mom." You rolled your eyes at him and went on with eating your bacon and eggs, while Jay looked like he was going to explode at any moment. "Still-" he began, picking up his goblet once more. "You shouldn't do that. If you wanna do it, tell me, I'll accompany you alright?" You smiled at Jay's worried face and nodded, assuring him that you would always tell him.

"I wonder where that boy would be. You know the Hufflepuff one?" Both of you were walking to Charms class, after your lunch, and the topic of the Hufflepuff boy came up. Jay was fiddling with the straps of his bag, while you daintily strolled across the corridor, looking at the paintings. "I heard his name is Jake." Jay finally got the straps to be proper. "Sim Jake. Apparently he's already popular. The charms professor adores his quick answers in class. We'll see though. Today we're going to be doing the practical work." You hummed and nodded again, too distracted by a beautiful painting of a wolf and a woman hanging on the wall. The woman had the wolf in her lap, as she slowly stroked it, putting it to sleep. She smiled at you warmly, and you smiled back, admiring her stunning features.

"Im going to pair you all up together for this charm now." The tiny professor, Professor Flitwick, stood across a pile of books to make himself visible. He was apparently the Head of your House, as told to you by Jay. You immediately shifted towards Jay, in order to give Professor Flitwick the hint that you wanted to be paired up with your only friend. Professor Flitwick looked through his list of names, and began pairing people up together. You had a joint class with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff today, since you and Jay both were the only ones in Ravenclaw. Unfortunately he insisted on inter house pairing, so your hopes of getting paired up with Jay went down the drain.

"Miss Black?" He called your name. "Ahh one of my Ravenclaw students! Very well very well." He let iut a tiny cough. "Well I believe you can get paired up with Mr Sim over here! Get your wand and books now. Good girl." Mr what now? You looked over your shoulder to see that Hufflepuff boy, smiling at you and motioning to the empty seat beside him. Your heart internally did backflips and as you went over to his desk, fumbling with your wand, you couldn't help but notice how much this boy smiled. His perfect teeth, displayed in a wide smile with crinkly eyes were all so adorable, as if he was a puppy.

"Hi! Im Jake. Sim Jake." He greeted you excitedly, extending his hand forward. "I'm Y/N. Y/N Black." The grip of his hand was soft, gentle, as if he was gripping something made out of crystals. "Shall we get started then?" He asked you, eyes widened, smile still not leaving his face. You nodded at him, as he prepared his wand to carry out the spell of levitation. With a clear of his throat, he lifted his wand upto a level above his feather, and chanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!", combined with a swish and a flick of his wand. The feather lifted off of the table in an instant fluttering above your feather, as the students in class watched on, mesmerised. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands together excitedly and strode over to your desk. "Excellent Mr Sim. Excellent! Ten points to Hufflepuff!" He turned to you, by the time Jake got his feather down and with a tap on your desk, he said, "Well your turn now Miss Black. Don't you disappoint me!" You took a deep breath and a gulp. Charms were always your worst thing when you used your cousin Andromeda's wand. You glanced over at Jake, who was still looking at, along with all the other students in class. Jake's eyes have you an encouraging look, as if to say 'You can do it!'. You took another breath, raised you wand about the white swan feather, focused your entire existence on it and with a swish and a flick, you chanted the words in your mind. The feather slowly rose above the table, and made its way all around the classroom, eerily floating like a woman in white. Every pair of eyes in the class were on the feather, well almost every pair. Jake was still looking at you, mesmerised by the way you managed to make a silent spell.

"My my." Professor Flitwick said, eyes widened, glasses slipping off of his nose bridge. "You have managed to do a silent spell young lady. We don't teach these until Year Six! Well well, it's good that you are in my House. I simply must tell Minerva this. Yes I wil..." He kept mumbling to himself after class was dismissed and as you made your way out of class, Jay ran to you at full speed, his glasses foggy and his palms all sweaty. "I swear to God if you pull out one more magic trick, I will throw myself to the Giant Squid." "We're in a school for magic Jay." You shot at him. "And I seriously don't know how I did that!" "Some children are born with the ability to perform silent spells." A familiar voice rang behind you. Jake had followed you and Jay out of the classroom, clutching his bag tightly. "I beg your pardon?" Jay asked him, tone cold. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to impude on your conversation. I just wanted to say that maybe Y/N could have been born with this ability to perform silent spells because my older sister also had this thing to perform spells without speaking." The way he talked was so pretty. His voice was melodic, like a Siren's and it enchanted you.

"Oh well maybe I am born with it then. Weird." You laughed it off with an awkward sentence, while Jay wanted to vomit right there and then. "Anyways-" Jake began again, scratching the back of his head. "Um I wanted to ask, if it's not too awkward, whether you'd like to hang out with me? Not in the creepy way! Just in like a platonic friend way." Oh god he was so adorable. You wanted to squish me and protect him from the entire world right there and then. And he wanted to be your friend? Lord, you wanted to ask the Heavens to kill you right there and then, because you were currently exploding out of happiness.

"Jay would you stop staring at Gaeul and move the fuck on with your essay on the stupid sleeping potion?" Jake, Jay, you and your Hufflepuff friends Sunoo, Yunjin and Wonyoung, were currently sitting out in the lawn and completing your homework. It was the Easter holidays and none of you had gone home, since you all were basically the 'We have horrible parents' group, barring Jake, Sunoo and Yunjin. But they still stayed because without both of them all of you would probably be dead in a ditch by now. Jay and you were trying to complete his potions work together, because teamwork makes the dreamwork, but for the past fifteen minutes, Jay had been doing nothing but stare at Gaeul from Gryffindor.

"Dude just ask her out for God's sake. She'll like you back." Jake optimistically said to Jay, who only slouched and deflated on the grass, throwing grass on Jake, which unfortunately landed on Wonyoung. "Jay I swear to God I'll kill you. You ruined my favourite jeans!" Wonyoung rubbed off the grass from her jeans. "And also Jake's right. You've basically been in love with her since first year when you got paired up with her for Charms. And for Pete's sake we're fifth years now! So be a man, get your ass up and ask her out on the next Hogsmeade trip. It does come on Valentine's day."

You were excited for the next Hogsmeade trip, since you heard that some large sugar quills were going to be on sale. You had planned to go with Jay, but looking at your friend look at a girl with the ultimate heart eyes, you decided to let him take his shot. "How do I ask her out though? Just say 'hey Gaeul I'm in love with you please marry me'?" Yunjin slapped Jay's head with her charms book and sighed, mumbling something along the lines of 'boys'.

"Dude just ask her if she would be interested in going with you to Hogsmeade and definetly leave out the marriage part." Sunoo said to the deflated boy on the grass. "You gonna ask Sunghoon out Won?" You asked Wonyoung, who smiled and nodded frantically. "I really do hope he says yes. I mean he's in Slytherin so I don't know how he'll react to a Hufflepuff girl asking him out." "Oh he likes you too." Sunoo, who was casually eating some pudding, said to Wonyoung, who looked like her entire life had made sense at this moment. "I still don't get how you got the title of this school's Gossip Queen. Like how did YOU get it?" Yunjin asked Sunoo, who went on with eating his pudding. He merelu shrugged his shoulders while you smiled, knowing how he charmed everyone to tell him shit. "Oh by the way Y/N-" Sunoo started. "we're doing werewolves in Care of Magical Creatures. Interested?"

Ever since you've told your only friends about that one night that you explored the entire school as a cat and heard a wolf howling, they're entire life had been dedicated to finding out what that noise was. You had told them all of them, barring Jake. You knew it wasn't good to hide something like this from him but you just didn't want to tell him because the voice in your head told you tlnot to. And you always listened to that voice. Your other friends had kept this secret for you, pretending that you had had an interest in werewolves since you were little. You and Jay trusted them enough to tell them who you actually were and they were understanding, especially Wonyoung, whose sister had been turned into an Animagus by force too. She had lived with Yunjin ever since her parents abandoned her for not being in Slytherin and you really wondered how such a sweet girl like her could have ever been born into such a family. Jay still lived with his own family, who surprisingly didn't disown him but they talked to him less and less now. You, on the other hand, were taken in by your maternal uncle and aunt, both of whom had been Gryffindors. They had protected you ever since you were eleven and you loved them more than your own parents.

"What were they teaching about werewolves Sun?" Sunoo gave you that fennec fox smile and crinkled his eyes. "Nothing much, just how to kill them, how to recognise them, what their characteristics are. Apparently you can kill them if you-" "May we change the topic please?" Jake's cold voice ran like ice through your veins. You knew werewolves were always a touchy subject for him. His uncle had been a werewolf, who had almost killed him when he was eight or so. Ever since you had told him about the werewolf incident, he had asked you whether you could not mention it again, the mere word 'werewolf' making his heart run faster. You obliged because you didn't want to make your best friend (read: crush) of five years uncomfortable.

"You know what?" Jay had gotten up from his sleeping position on the grass. "Im gonna ask Gaeul out right now!" "Oh for fucks sake finally." Yunjin sighed and lay her head on Sunoo's shoulder. School was good. School was better now that you had friends. But that thought of the werewolf still never left your mind, especially when you would sneak out every night as a cat, without Jay to look for the howls again. It was half moon night tonight, a point where a werewolf wouldn't be too strong neither too weak. Perfect time for a lynx cat to hunt wasn't it?

Midnight came earlier that night than anticipated and as you silently checked whether Jay's snores were real or not, you felt a bolt of electricity hit you. You were admittedly scared, since this night you were going to try something you had never done before. Being a child who could do silent spells, you were a favourite among most of the teachers who would do anything for you, which included providing you with information. Professor Flitwick had become a victim of your innocent eyes, when you asked him how to open The Room Of Requirement from where you had first heard the howls. After much trepidation, he had finally given you the answer and ever since that day you had been trying to figure out a wormhole to open the room while someone was already occupying it. And after months of your dying brain trying to stay alive, you finally found the loophole.

The walk to the room was eerie. You noticed every touch of wood on your paw and every time your whiskers moved due to the wind. You had never felt so much fear in your life before. What if you actually found the werewolf? What would you do? Just run and hope that the werewolf never finds you? Hope was all that was left in this mundane life, you thought. It was time to spice it up a bit.

You finally arrived in front of the statue of Barnabus the Barmy. You could hear the faint howls cut through the silence of the beautiful night. The wall ahead was plain, an ordinary wall which any person would just pass by not evening noticing how it helped to hold up the foundations of the castle. You prepared yourself and rid your mind of every other thought and focused on your command. Just a little bit more. Just a minute more. You didn't pay heed to the whistling of the wind telling you to not go in or the warning hooting of owls. All you needed now was to get inside that room, to solve a mystery you had been wanting to solve for five years.

Cracks slowly started to appear in the walls. The wall turned brown and a doorknob formed at its right side. It was a handsome door, dark brown and made of oak. You slowly opened your eyes, and your heart almost leapt out of your chest. The door had appeared. You had done it! You had achieved what wizards had tried to achieve for centuries. You had opened the Room of Requirement while someone was in there. The howls got closer and louder now. They sounded more like choked sobs rather than howls. They sounded like a human. Had the werewolf not turned yet? Had it reached that stage where it was half human- half wolf?

You nervously trodded inside the room, taking it it's dark interior, painted in blues and yellows, decorated with a painting of the solar system. It was so beautiful, yet so marred with the choked sobs coming from a corner. A boy? A fluffy brown haired boy sat in the corner, head in his knees, sobbing his eyes out. It was a pathetic sight, his clothes were torn and his hair all messed up. Without thinking, you walked up to him, still in your cat form, meowing and purring softly. You had found that your cat noises always calmed Yunjin and Sunoo down whenever they were about to have a panic attack, so you assumed it would do the same for this boy. The boy looked up to see who was meowing so loudly and your entire world froze.

Jake. It was Jake. Sitting in front you, red eyed, tear stained face, and lips slightly parted. His hair was messier than ever and his pale blue sweater was slipping off of his shoulder. He looked thinner that he did in the morning and his breathing was low. His skin was slightly covered with fur. He held out a shaky hand to you.

"Hey there-" he said in the weakest and softest voice ever. "How did you get in here?" He let out a chuckle as you hesitantly went up to his hand, licking it. You were right. His smile truly never left his face. "You must be one of those magical creatures they told me roam the school aren't you? Or are you just a cat? You're really pretty you know?" You meowed in response to him, slowly going up his lap and sitting there, tail moving around every now and then. You could feel Jake's breathing slow down a bit, and his body stopped shaking. He felt warm, like an autumn breeze whooshing away the fallen leaves. "Well I don't have anyone to talk to right now so I think I'll talk to you. Wanna be my friend? Im Jake. Im-Im a werewolf if you don't mind." How did he manage to stay so happy? Two seconds ago he was bawling his eyes out and shaking like crazy, but suddenly when you came up to him, his face became more illuminated than Apollo. You meowed again in response to him, being the only thing you could do. "Hmm what should I name you? Jay? Nah you don't look like a Jay. You're definetly a female. You know I have a dog named Layla. Maybe I should name you something like that. Should I name you Y/N? She's one of my closest friends and you weirdly look like her." You meowed a bit louder at this, slightly startled at the sound of your name leaving his lips. Did he perhaps know who you were? He couldn't have but suspicions could be true. "I don't think it'll be right to name you after anyone I know. I'll name you something else. Maybe it a trick of the light but you really do look like Y/N. How about.......... Blackberry? It's the colour of your skin and I really like blackberries." Blackberry. It was such an endearing name and unfortunately you were also allergic to blackberries. But you knew Jake loved them, courtesy to that one time Jay argued with him about what the best pie was. You snuggled onto his chest, allowing him to give you head scratches. His hands were so soft, so comforting and it reminded you of fourth year, when you were stressed out of your mind for your exams, and Jake calmed you down so easily. You had finished your History Of Magic exam, and upon finding out that you had written one tiny answer wrong, you ran off to your secret spot, the abode of The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw Ghost, and cried your heart out. You didn't know how Jake found you so easily but he did and he held your hands and stroked your hair until you stopped crying. The Grey Lady had been watching from behind a pillar, smiling at how adorable both of you were. Now, as you sat on Jake's lap, you knew how he had found you. Werewolves had very strong senses of scent. They could memorise the scent of anyone who used to be with them all the time and they could find said person even if they were a thousand kilometres/miles away. He was also a Hufflepuff wasn't he? And Hufflepuffs were particularly good finders.

You felt Jake suddenly flinch and let out a cry. You leapt off of his lap and faced him, to see that he was shivering again. The fur on his arms was growing and his nose was turning black. You could hear his bones cracking inside of his body. You could feel his pain, as his face contorted to form a face of torture, pain and sadness. Tears were escaping his face fast as he continued to cry out of agony. He was transforming. According to the clock on the wall, it was two pm. In half moon nights, werewolves usually transformed after midnight. And unfortunately for Jake, he was transforming now.

"Go away BlackBerry! Run- ahh- away now! AHHH!" He let out a torturous scream and you bolted for the door, not looking back as you ran all the way, without stopping to the Ravenclaw dormitory, only pausing to take a breather at the Eagle doorknock. "What can be touched but not be seen?" The Eagle's deep voice commanded you to answer the riddle. You clutched onto your chest and knelt down, trying to breathe and get over the image of Jake transforming fully. "I-I don't know." You breathed out, your mind not working from the pace at which you ran across the entire castle. "A heart. The answer is a heart." You felt a chill go through your body, and as you turned back, to see where the voice came from, you understood why. A ghost was currently floating behind you. She was pretty, with long locks of straight black hair, flowy robes, a silver dagger at her hip, and her expression forlorn and longing. The Grey Lady, Ghost of Ravenclaw House. "Helena Ravenclaw?" You whispered to her. She smiled sadly at you, a beautiful smile, you thought. "So you know my name? Interesting creature you are. The answer is a heart by the way." She paused and smiled again, as you picked yourself off of the floor. "A heart can be touched by fear, sadness and love. And you've got to choose which one you let touch yours, little girl." Saying that, she vanished in thin air, leaving you all alone again, in the cold, dark silence, the only source of light being the half moon shining outside of the window.

"Y/N I swear to God one of these days you're going to stab me in the heart." Jay dramatically said as both of you sat near the lake, throwing bread every now and then to the Giant Squid, who accepted it gratefully. It was chilly today, and as Easter holidays finally ended, all of you got busy again. You two were hanging out alone today, courtesy to your Hufflepuff friends having classes at the moment. Jay had finally gotten the courage to ask Gaeul out and she magically said yes. Jay had been celebrating this 'Glorious moment' (his words not mine) when you thought it would be the perfect time to tell him that you had sneaked out last night. You left the part out about Jake being a werewolf, about him being the creature you had been searching for for five years of your life. You didn't want Jay to freak out and go into a state of anxiety where he did nothing but stare forward so you left it out.

"It's not that big of a deal. Plus I didn't even get to open that stupid door anyways." You lied to Jay, who was laying on the grass, with his eyes shut, courtesy to the sunlight shining on his face. "Do we have any joint periods with the Gryffindors today?" Jay asked you, as you checked your timetable. "No we don't Jay." You responded, with a fake stern tone. "If you wanna talk to Gaeul again, just write her a fucking letter or man up and sneak inside her dorm." Jay looked scandalised at your words and was about to fire back, when- "Hey guys." A honey voice rang behind you. It was Jake, Sunoo and Yunjin, accompanied by your Slytherin friend Riki who was a year younger than you guys, but he was cute enough that he hung out with you. He was also an honorary member of the 'We have horrible parents' club. "How's your auntie Riki?" You asked as you ruffled Riki's blonde hair, to which he slapped your hands away and put his head on your shoulder. "Why don't you ask how I am instead? I am dying right now because of all the Transfiguration homework I've just been given. " He grumbled as Sunoo rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'getting into fifth year first'. "Wonyoung asked Sunghoon out by the way." Riki informed you guys, to which you and Sunoo gasped. "What did he say?" Sunoo asked, excitedly, bouncing up and down. "Steal some food from the kitchens with me first and maybe then I'll tell you." Riki shot a mischievous grin at Sunoo, who pulled out his wand, threatening to hex Riki. You, Jay and Yunjin laughed out loud seeing Sunoo chase Riki around the grass, wand in hand, hex ready.

You glanced at Jake, who was silently sitting in the corner, by the tree staring straight at the lake, face emotionless. He had dark circles under his eyes and his body looked frail, just like how it looked the night before. His eyes were closing every few seconds, but snapping open again, as if he was forcing himself to stay awake. Poor thing, you thought. He went through so much last night and he didn't even get to sleep much. You felt terrible even though you had done nothing. You felt hatred towards the entire world, towards the Heavens, for dimming such a sunshine like him, in the worst way possible. It broke you, when you thought about how many days he must have endured all of this alone, still managing to put on a smile at the end of the day.

"Hey Jake?" You gently asked him, scooting towards him and putting your hand on his arm. He flinched slightly at the sudden touch, but he relaxed once more as he put on that smile again. Now that you saw it, the smile was so heartbreaking. It hid his pain, as if his mind and heart were telling him 'don't show your tears!'. His eyes were so pretty, you thought, so brown like chocolate pudding. "What's up Y/Nnie?" He asked you, tone cheerful and laced with sweet honey. "oh nothing." You shook your head. "Just wanted to see if you're alright. How was your Herbology class?" Jake sighed and ran his fingers through his fluffy hair. He looked out at the lake once more, where the Giant Squid was sleeping peacefully. "I don't know why I keep failing at the subject. I lost two points for Hufflepuff because I put the wrong thing in the wrong pod. How am I supposed to know how much fertilizer a plant who bites off your arm requires? Maybe the fertilizer is Jay's simping for Gaeul for all I know." You burst out laughing at his statement, as he chuckled softly. Both of you were terrible at Herbology, which was weird since everyone in your friend group were basically masters at digging soil and taking out antidotes from certain plants. But hey atleast both of you were top of the class in Charms.

That night, you decided to go out once more. Jay said he would stay up all night to watch you, but you knew his ass would fall dead asleep the moment his neck hit the pillow. And you were right, as you crept out of your bed, in your cat form, Jay was snoring loudly, in the most coffin like sleeping position ever.

You once again strolled across to the Room of Requirement, thinking the same thing that you had thought yesterday. You didn't hear the sobs coming today. The room was the same, decorated with the solar system but weirdly enough there was a tiny cat bed and cat toys sitting next to a brown haired boy, who was sitting against the wall on the floor. "Hey there blackberry." Jake spoke softly to you, once again holding out his hand. "I-I thought you'd like this." He motioned towards the cat bed and the toys. They were purple in colour, your favourite shade, of plums. You jumped onto the cat bed and snuggled against the soft fabric, all whilst keeping your eyes fixed on Jake. He looked so fragile, like freshly shaped coloured glass. "Why do you keep looking at me blackberry?" He asked you, smiling at your wide eyes. Idiot, you thought to yourself. How could you be such an idiot? You had to behave like a cat, not a human. You meowed gently at him, as he stroked your fur, with a soft hand.

"You know we should get to know each other." Jake chuckled. "I mean you can't talk, so is it alright if I talk to you? Maybe tell you about me a little? And you can talk too if you want! How's that sound?" You meowed loudly at him, and swished your tail around. God he was so adorable. You had reached a bit early today, so he wasn't anywhere close to turning.

"My name's Jake. Well Sim Jake to be exact. What's yours? Hmm?" He held out an ear to you, pretending to be listening as if you were human. You let out another loud meow. "Blackberry is it? Well what a fine name! Pleasure to meet you." He shook your paw, playfully as you played along. "Well I guess I should tell you why I'm here and why I'm like this." He motioned to his arm, which was slightly beginning to fur up. "Well when I was eight, I got bit by my Uncle Rudy, who's also a werewolf. It was an accident but-" he sighed heavily, as you stared at the tears welling up in his eyes. "My momma died trying to protect me from he. He died two days later when my brother killed him. But I wasn't so lucky. So I ended up transforming into a monster every night the moon is in the sky." Hearing Jake call himself a monster broke your heart so much. Eight years was too young a child to have that horrible of a fate.

"Anyways-" Jake continued, trying to keep his tone calm. "Professor Dumbledore allowed me to attend Hogwarts because apparently there's another werewolf here too. An older one." You smiled to yourself at that. Remus Lupin, your cousin Sirius' best friend. "I still haven't met the other wolf though. I-I come here every moon filled night to transform. It's called The Room Of Requirement. Rumor has it that Helga Hufflepuff herself built this room. And it only opens in times of need. So today I asked the room for this bed and the toys-" he extended a hand towards you, stroking you. "So that you could be comfortable just incase you came I didn't expect you to come again though." The way he talked to you, the way he smiled at you, the way he treated an animal who he met just last night, it was so innocent. You felt that thing in your stomach again, that hatred, that burning feeling for the world. How dare they tell you that a person like Jake be a monster? How dare they tell you that werewolves were even monsters?

"Well enough about me-" Jake scratched your head again. "Tell me about you? What's your favourite colour?" You purred lowly at him, snuggling tighter against the bed. "Oh it's plum? What an interesting choice! Mine's blue. It's the colour of Y/N's house." The colour of Y/N's house? If he knew that the cat whose head he was currently scratching was Y/N herself, he would probably never talk to you again. "Y/N's such a nice girl you know?" He began, leaning back further against the wall. "She's one of my best friends. She's in Ravenclaw and she's really good at charms, just like me. You know she can do silent spells! She's so pretty too. If I had the courage to ask her I would- AHH.

Jake suddenly clutched onto his chest, and let out a painful cry, as black fur began rapidly enveloping his arms. He let go of his chest after a few minutes of what you felt like was pure agony. His face contorted into a grotesque one, eyes crinkled, but not like the way it did when he smiled at you and mouth stuck in the same open position.

"Im sorry Blackberry." He said, once he let go of his chest and began panting after some time. "I-Im not turning yet am I?" You were so bewildered at him. How could he be smiling at you after all of that? After all that agony, how could the smile still not leave his face?

"I was rambling about Y/N wasn't I?" He chuckled slightly. "Do cats also fall in love blackberry?" He asked you, to which you remained silent, choosing to stare ahead at him. "I mean do you ever see another cat and be like 'oh I love that cat'? Does that ever happen? Well it happens to humans, and it happens a lot. I really like Y/N, not just as a friend. Like I want to be with her like Jay wants to be with Gaeul. She's so beautiful inside and out and sometimes she doesn't realise that. I really do want to be with her blackberry, but I don't know how."

That night when you ran back to your dorm, you were distracted. Distracted by the words you had heard come out of Jake's mouth. 'I really like Y/N, not just as friends'. Did he really just confess to a cat about you? Did he really just confess to you about you? It was a weird thing, love. We all know it happens and yet we are so afraid to go after it. Where had God gone wrong with humans, that they would have to reject an essential part of life? An essential thing which our souls needed so desperately? Why were we so quick to turn it away?

You didn't even notice where you were going until you looked up and realised that you had reached the dorm already. Transforming back into your human self, you can in front of the Eagle doorknock, waiting for him to give you your riddle, to get in and wrap yourself in your comfy blankets.

"You're a peculiar child you are." You felt a shiver down your spine as the atmosphere turned cold again. You turned around to see her again. Helena Ravenclaw sitting on the floor. More like floating on the floor, with her ghostly gown spread out evenly. The dark stain on her stomach seemed to shine in the moonlight coming through the windows. "Miss Ravenclaw, what are you doing here so late?" You asked her, trying to ignore the pace of your heart. She merely smiled at you and looked out the window. "The ghosts in Hogwarts can travel anywhere, little girl. I was merely bored so I came to see if you were here again." She paused. "You're an Animagus aren't you? A cat, I presume?" The question as to how on earth she knew that was ignored by your mind. You were currently sinking into her beautiful voice. It was so intoxicating, so beautiful. You could see the melodies of her voice bounce around you.

"You get easily distracted. Did you know that?" She spoke again, breaking you out of your hypnosis. "Oh I-I'm sory Miss Ravenclaw. I didn't mean to-" "Call me Helena. I despise my last name." She responded to your stuttering apologies. "You go to visit that boy don't you? The Hufflepuff werewolf?" She asked you once more, curiously spreading over her face. "Y-yes I do." You answered, sitting down on the floor next to her. It was probably two am in the morning by now, but all that mattered was your conversation with her right now. "You must be wondering-" she cut in. "How I, the ghost of Ravenclaw House can know about a Hufflepuff boy?" She smiled again, and adjusted her skirt, slowly rising from the floor. "Well mysteries should always remain mysteries shouldn't they? I'll leave that up to you to figure out." With that she sped across the corridor and disappeared, once more leaving you cold and dark.

The next few days went in a blur. It was the same routine at night. Turn into a cat at night, open the Room Of Requirement, snuggle into the cat bed as Jake talked to you, and talk to the Grey Lady further into the night. You would think your sleep schedule was fucked up by now, but you were an insomniac from the beginning of time so it alright.

One thing that had changed was that now, you didn't run away when Jake started to turn. You stayed with him, hiding in the corners when he was turning, and once he turned into his wolf form, with black fur and yellow eyes, you would go up to him and pure softly to which he would respond by touching noses with you. He talked about a lot of things to you, his blackberry. He talked about the solar system, and how, one day he would like to invent something that would help him reach Saturn. 'To get a pretty ring for Y/N because she deserves the universe', he would explain, making your heart flutter and burst into a million pieces. He talked about badgers, lions, eagles and snakes and how he thought the Sorting System was a cruel way of separating mere children. He talked about the pretty autumn wind, the crowd which would nest outside his bedroom window, how his brother once turned him into an actual puppy. But most of all, he would talk about you. It melted your heart so much hearing, 'Y/N's favourite pie is pecan' and 'Y/N doesn't like when her bread is not toasted and she hates too much sugar in cakes but she adores those tiny flowers that they make with icing.'

The fact that he actually remembered all that shit about you, all of those things that you brought up which were highly insignificant, it was wonderful. And the Grey Lady noticed. She noticed how you eventually became more talkative. How you would talk to her about riddles and how the houses were misunderstood and how werewolves were such innocent creatures. You rambled to her most about Jake. About how he liked blackberries so much, about how he loved knitting yarn and how he would knit a sweater for his dog Layla every Christmas he was away from her. The Grey Lady laughed internally, at how stupid the youth was. To not realise that love was around the corner.

"I am actually dying right now Y/N I beg you kill me." Jay flopped down on the grass again as all of you sat down for your weekly shit talk session. Moon nights were over now, and you were a bit saddened, that you couldn't spend more time with Jake, although you mentally scolded yourself afterwards, for not realising that now, Jake would finally be out of his pain. You still talked to the Grey Lady, who came to the Eagle doorknock everyday and sat down, each time bringing you a new story of what she did along with Peeves the Poltergeist. She seemed happier now too for some reason unknown.

"Jay it was one date. It's fine. Gaeul still likes you." Wonyoung insisted bracingly to Jay, who was near the verge of tears. "Jay man it's fin-" "NO ITS NOT!" Jay loudly interrupted Jake, who jumped back a bit. "I spilt my butterbeer on her." Jay wept. "What kind of an idiot does that? I'm hopeless." You fought back the urge to laugh as you patted Jay's arm.

"Oh my god stop being so dramatic." Sunoo sighed, as he braided Wonyoung's hair. "She's planning to ask you out again, you idiot." Jay sat up straight at this, whipping his head to Sunoo so fast, you were surprised he didn't get whiplash.

Jake and you chuckled slightly as Jay rounded on Sunoo, interrogating him. "Did you sleep well last night Jake? The dark circles are gone." Yunjin asked Jake, who nodded fervently, setting his Herbology book down. "I think the herbal tea Y/N gave me last week is really helping." He explained, running his hands through his hair, as he usually did. "Thanks for that by the way Y/N. How did you know I've been wanting it for a long time?" Truth be told, he had told you, or technically blackberry about the tea leaves which he had been wanting to buy for a long time. You remembered that your aunt used to grow those leaves, so the next day you immediately wrote to her asking her for some tea bags, saying that it was for a friend.

"A magician never reveals her secret." You jived, making Jake and Yunjin laugh while Wonyoung and Sunoo rolled their eyes (Jay's still crying let him be in his delusions he's Ken). "What about you?" Jake quizzed you. "You've been sleeping well too? Even your dark circles are gone." The bags under your eyes had indeed disappeared after you stopped your daily cat nights. "Yeah. The moon's gone away so I guess I don't need to-" you stopped mid sentence, realising that your dumb brain was just about to give away your secret to the person you secretly visited every night. "You don't need to what?" Wonyoung asked, raising her left brow slightly, as all the attention shifted to you. "Oh um" you stuttered, before spotting someone who could take away the attention from you. "Jay, look! Gaeul's coming this way." You pointed her out to Jay, who immediately began to fix his hair and wipe away the tears on his face. All the attention successfully turned to Jay, who was approached by Gaeul, who asked him for another date on the next Hogsmeade trip. After she left, leaving Jay to be a squashed tomato laying on the grass, everyone took turns to tease him about it. All except for Jake, who you did not even notice was staring at you, not only with bewilderment but also with adored eyes

"Y/N can I talk to you later?" Jake had stopped you in the corridor, while you were walking back from Quidditch practice with Jay. You were a chaser on the team, and Jay usually came with you as moral support even though today he just came for Gaeul. "Yeah sure Jake. When is later specifically?" You joked, to which Jake responded with his signature smile. "Maybe after you change into your something more clean?" He pointed out your mud covered Quidditch robes. "I'll wait for you outside the dorm don't worry."

On the way to your dorm, Jay hadn't stopped giggling like an idiot over your interaction with Jake. He kept making our theories as to why he wanted to talk to you, like a fourteen year old girl which made you laugh a little, seeing your usually serious friend jest around.

"No don't wear that old piece of shit! You wanna look like a sad pathetic octopus who no one would want to date?" Jay was currently raiding your clothes, looking for something which gives, in his words, 'casual date aesthetic'. "I love octopuses for your information." You grumbled. "How much longer Jay?" Jay clicked his tongue like a mom, and pulled out a blue and yellow sweater. The one which Jake had knitted you for Christmas in your third year. It was a special sweater and you often wore it, courtesy to the yarn being cosy and warm.

Fifteen minutes later after you wore the sweater and the trousers which Jay had carefully picked out for you, you went out the common room's door, carrying the good luck given to you by Jay, Joshua and Sana. Jake, as he promised was standing there, hair cleaner than usual and in a dark blue sweater. "Where are we going Jake?" You inquired, curious about why he suddenly asked you. "You'll see." he said with a smirk on his face. You quietly tiptoed and climbed upto the fifth floor. A familiar route to you. It was close to the one you always took to reach him on his moon drunk nights. Actually, it was the exact one you took to reach him. Why was he taking you to The Room Of Requirement? Did he perhaps find out who his beloved blackberry actually was?

"Alright now." Jake stopped in front of the wall, where you knew was the magical room. It was probably nine thirty by now, and all the students would be in bed. "I need you to do something Y/N. Just shut off your brain and don't think if anything. Can you do that for me?" You nodded to his gentle question. You knew what he was doing. Whenever there are two people who required the Room of Requirement, only one of them would be able to open it by thinking about what they needed. You thus obliged to his request and shut your mind off, bringing yourself to think of a white screen with nothing on it.

The wall suddenly contorted to form the same door that it usually formed. The same oak doors, with carvings on them. Jake opened the door without saying a word to you. Your brain was getting fuzzy now. Did he actually find out? And if he did, would he still be your friend? A part of your soul? Your Aman Cara?

"I thought you'd like it." You stepped inside of the room, to find a it roofless, revealing all the pretty stars that shined for love and for rejoicement. The room was no longer blue and yellow like it usually was. It was purple now, and there were pillows everyway, along with some roses, arranged all pretty in a bouquet. "D-do you like it? I know it's weird to ask you out like this in such a creepy way but I can't do it in any other way." Jake nervously said, not noticing your awe struck eyes as you gazed at the stars above. "It-its beautiful." You breathed out, causing Jake to sigh with relief. "Y/N-" he suddenly called out to you. "I-Ive been wanting to tell you for a long time. But I really like you and I want to be more than friends with you. And I understand if you don't feel the same way but I reall-"

The rest of his words got drowned out by you pouncing on him and connecting your lips to his. His lips tasted sweet and smooth, like the leftover cake batter which you would lick and like an old book which you would get out of a bookstore after searching for it for a long time. The kiss tasted like cotton candy, melting in your mouth as soon as it touched your tongue. The dance that your lips performed against each other was amazing, like a female ballerina trusting her male partner to lift her up In the air to create a music drunk dance, which would enchant the audience.

Jake pulled away from the kiss first, a dopey smile on his face, his eyes not leaving yours. "I've been wanting to do that for some time." He finally said, after a few minutes of just smiling at you. "Me too." You confessed, hugging his closer and caressing his hair. "So what do we do now blackberry?"

Your world suddenly stopped hearing the last word coming out of his mouth. He knew? How do he know? "Did the cat really look that much like me?" Jake smiled again and kissed your forehead gently. "I've always told everyone that I never liked tea." He chuckled softly. "So if you really were my friend you'd remember that won't you? But if you were a certain cat, you would know my favourite tea leaves." You mentally slapped yourself for being so stupid and giving away your secret so easily. "Also the Grey Lady told me." "Sim Jake I will hex you, you asshole!" He chuckled slightly as you quizzed him about how he knew the Grey Lady. "She used to talk to me when I used to be alone. Apparently ghosts can enter this amazing room and she would often talk to me about her life. But when she saw a cute little cat coming here every night, she figured out who you were. And let's just say ghosts aren't really good at keeping secrets." Both of you giggled as you stood in the room, gently swaying and holding each other, never to let go ever again. No matter how sad the days would be, how blue they would be, you knew that from now on, your nights would be filled with bright yellow sunshine, and perhaps a bit of moonlight too.

Epilouge

"FINALLY THEY'VE GOTTEN TOGETHER IM DYING HAPPY NOW." Jay screamed at the top of his lungs, as Gaeul sat beside him, covering her ears. There you were again, sitting in your normal place near the lake, feeding the Giant Squid, when you thought this would be the perfect time to tell your friends that Jake was now your boyfriend. Their response was good, well maybe barring Jay crying his eyes out and hugging you, telling you that he was proud, while you looked at Gaeul, wondering how she ever managed to put up with him. You did tell them that Jake was a werewolf, to which they responded quite well, saying that they simply did not care. (Jake shed some tears at that)

Jake and you cherished the moonlit nights now that Jake didn't have to spend them alone. It was peculiar to the beings within the magical paintings in the castle, as to how two creatures, so different in their worlds could ever kiss under the moonlight every day and drink the stars up, intoxicating themselves on each other.

And the Grey Lady smiled again knowing that she had a story to tell every child who would stay up late at the Ravenclaw dorm, lost in their thoughts. The story of the cat and the werewolf, who fell in love, under a drunken moon.

[minhosimthings]

I cannot stress this enough but the HANDS. THE VEINS. Someone help my hand kink is getting out of hand (pun intended)