summary: youâre in a fake relationship with Hyunjin, but no one else knows itâs all a show
a/n: hiya! How are yall doing? I kinda had this random idea sitting in my head and needed to get it out lol. Itâs just a little something in between before weâre getting to a probably long awaited project, some of yall asked for it..
The flashlights of the paparazzis cameras were almost making you blind. You should get used to it, you always were drawing in their attention the most when you were out with the others. Hyunjins hand on your lower back always felt extra heavy in moments like these.
âYou think now is the time?â, he whispered, hunched over so he could be close to your ear.
You nodded, management had told you to do it.
Deep breath.
A grin on your lips.
And you held your left hand up, big and shining ring glistening brightly in the sun. There was a roar in the audience, you saw Stays swooning in the corner of your eyes.
âWe got themâ, Hyunjin grinned.
To the outside, it just looked like he was holding you, whispering something sweet. Just like you wanted. He took your other hand in his, lacing your fingers and the camera lights flashed up again.
Chris was the last of the group, standing behind the two of you, hurrying you inside the building to get rid of all the people.
âAlright lovebirds, come onâ.
When the door closed behind you, you felt a lot more at ease. Paparazzi and fans somehow were not as easy to fool than the other band members. You didnât know why the management wouldnât let you tell them that the relationship Hyunjin and you had was fake - all of it - but they seemed to not notice it in the slightest anyway. This was going on for so long now, the two of you were in your fake relationship for years.
The others loved you dearly, welcomed you in their group as part of their little family and you really adored them as well.
It wasnât like Hyunjin and you hadnât feelings for each other. You cared about him and you knew that was mutual. But it was more like a very deep friendship, not love.
Still, you were both very good at faking it.
âLet me see, I havenât had a look at it yetâ, Felix said, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his face to see the ring properly.
It was a big stone in the middle, little diamonds circling it to make it look like a flower.
âDamn, Hyung itâs really prettyâ, he nodded in approval, âBet he got down to one knee and all, huh?â.
âOh, I can imagine Jinnie being so romantic, taking her out on a date-â, Changbin chimed in, earning an elbow to his side.
âDonât be so nosyâ, Hyunjin groaned, scrunching up his face when he saw your grin, âDonât tell them anything, my love, they donât deserve to hear itâ.
You shook your head while your grin spreaded, pulling your hand away to wrap it around Hyunjins arm.
âDonât be mad, baby, theyâre all just happy for usâ.
Your gaze fell on Jisung, who was the only one who didnât seem as content about your âengagementâ as the others. It wasnât obvious, he still was smiling, but the desperate way he looked at you said enough.
He was smitten, you knew Jisung liked you. And you liked him too, very much so. The situation was very complicated though.
You knew it was wrong to keep the fact that all of it was fake a secret, but you didnât have the courage to tell him after everything that already had happened - plus, you werenât allowed to.
Hyunjin knew of your so called affair, you told him everything. And well, he encouraged it. He was bold enough to make Jisung jealous from time to time, because it would make him even more needy for you.
It was normal for him to give you nicknames even when youâre alone or only you could hear it. You didnât mind, you gave him pet names in private too - made everything feel more casual in public.
âA mess, pleaseâ.
He chuckled, lips slowly grazing your jaw.
âLet me handle it, thank me laterâ, he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
Then, he let his hand sneak around you, splaying out on your stomach. You knew what he was going for and you decided to play along with it, covering his hand with yours.
âCanât wait to try for a baby nextâ, he said, a bit louder this time, shit eating from on his lips.
âYouâre planning to have one?â, Jeongin asked.
âWouldnât a baby Jinnie be cute?â, you joked, watching how Jisung crumbled in his spot, âGonna be the new maknae, itâs coming for your jobâ.
âGonna be the most dramatic baby everâ, Felix grinned, teasing his hyung with it.
You couldnât pry your eyes off Jisung anymore, his gaze flickered in between your stomach and your face, a pout formed on his mouth - probably without him even noticing.
âJi, can you drive me home? Youâre not doing practice today, right?â, you asked, very well aware of all of their schedules.
âUhmm, no, I mean- Yeah, if you want to. Just gotta head to the studio laterâ, he answered, standing up too fast to be nonchalant about your question.
Hyunjin grinned, but you were the only person who understood the reason.
âSee you in the eveningâ, he cooed while coming closer, leaning down to you, âMiss you alreadyâ.
His hand cupped your jaw gently as he captured your lips in a deep but quick kiss.
It was just right - intense enough for a young lovey dovey couple, quick enough for a goodbye kiss - and it made Jisung almost lose it.
You knew watching you two kiss made him wish he was the one doing it - that he would be the one kissing you as a good morning and good night, doing it whenever your ways parted.
âDonât be lateâ, you said with a smile, stretching your body up to give him another chaste kiss.
Jisung and you left through the back door, he had his hat pulled down deep into his face, you did the same with the hood of your sweater.
Your heart was fluttering when his fingers searched for yours in the intimacy of the shadows, but giving in and grabbing your whole hand right in front of the car.
He sighed, words resting heavily on his tongue, but he didnât dare to say something.
âWhatâs wrong, Ji?â, you asked, a slight smirk on your lips.
âI didnât know you wanted to marry him-â, he whispered, eyes lowered.
Jisung didnât dare to look at your pink hue of embarrassment spreading across his face.
âIt doesnât change anything between usâ, you said calmly, âI still want youâ.
That was the moment when he looked at you again, big round eyes lighting up at your words, he leaned against the car as if he lost the ability to stand on his own.
âYou do? But- I-â.
âOf course I doâ, your hand came up to caress his face.
He immediately melted into your touch, his other hand pulling you closer by your waist. Another sigh came out of his mouth.
âI want you too, but Hyunjin- this is wrong, youâre engaged and heâs my friendâ.
Jisung sometimes had these thoughts, some doubts. And honestly, you could understand him. You sometimes felt bad about the way you were treating him, but it got easier over time to ignore the voice of reason.
âWhat if I tell you that I want you to take me in that car? What if I tell you that you can fuck me better than he does?â, you leaned in, your lips grazing the outline of his jaw.
âHoly shit- donât-â, he had to clear his throat, âDonât say thatâ.
You pressed yourself against him, angling your leg to move it along his crotch.
âI can feel you getting hardâ, you chuckled.
âYouâre so unfairâ, he whined, hands scrambling to open the door beside him, âGet insideâ.
You both got into the backseat - luckily the parking lot behind the entertainment building was dark and only accessible for staff members. Plus, you couldnât peek into the cars windows from the outside. Jisung locked it with his key, trapping your form underneath his body.
He pulled his cap off, lowering himself on top of you gently.
âYou still like it when Iâm unfair, donât you?â, you grinned, holding his face in your hands.
âUnfortunately-â, he sighed, leaning in to kiss your jaw, âBegging me to fuck you in the car- as if I could deny thatâ.
His lips wandered down to your throat, leaving open mouthed kisses on his way down, temporarily sucking on the skin in the crook of your neck. He knew he wasnât allowed to leave marks, but he liked to tease you with it.
âI wasnât beggingâ, you gasped, arching into him when he bit you there for a second.
âDo you want me to make you beg?â, Jisung huffed, you felt his grin against your skin.
His hands came up to unbutton your blouse while you pushed his oversized shirt up to signal him to take it off.
âYou can give it a tryâ, you taunted him, âBefore Iâll make you do it insteadâ.
Jisung ended the banter by kissing you, claiming your mouth with an urgent desperation, relief washing over him as soon as he could have you like this - pinned underneath him with his lips on yours.
You hummed in satisfaction, your hands finding his hair and pulling on some strands. Your skirt was pushed up, his hurried hands grabbing your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips.
The friction of your heat against his bulge made him moan into your mouth, even if you still were wearing clothes.
You rolled your hips in tandem with him, both of you moved against each other. It was hot, you felt everything clinging to you so nastily - your clothes, your hair, the leather of the car seats. But still, you couldnât stop, you didnât want to push him away so you could breathe.
âJisung-â, you gasped, his mouth leaving yours to travel downwards again, in between your tits.
âYeah, fuck- I knowâ, he pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out and tasting you, still rocking into you.
The space was so cramped, but that only led to him pressing against you some more, kneeling on the seats for more leverage and because he couldnât properly stretch out his legs either way - one arm around your lower body holding you close.
Your nails dug into his shoulders, scraping up his skin and he hissed as the pain mixed with pure want and desire.
âWanna be inside you-â, he choked out a breathy moan, needing to be pulled away from your chest by his hair before he could bite marks into your skin, âHate to be the one begging, but please- I really need to-â.
A hand came up to his jaw, angling his head up, so you could nip at his skin there.
âThatâs no real beggingâ, you laughed hoarsely, âI guess Hyunjin wants me more than you doâ.
Your words made his hips snap forward, granting more friction against your aching clit before he retracted enough to let a hand fall between your legs.
Middle and ring finger stroked your folds, Jisung was moaning when he felt how soaked the fabric of your panties was.
âFuck- I bet he doesnâtâ, he closed his eyes as your hand wrapped around his throat, âI want you so bad- please, jagi. Let me have youâ.
His needy voice made your pussy throb, his little gasps probably could be enough to make you fall apart untouched.
âBegging for an engaged woman?â, you whispered, âHow filthy, Sungieâ.
His fingers pushed your panties aside, gathering your slick to insert both of them at the same time. Your body reacted heavily, you werenât able to stop the relentless grinding against his hand. His palm rubbed against your clit like this and you rewarded him with an open mouthed kiss.
âCall me filthy as much as you like- I want you- I want to fuck you raw, youâd let me do it, right?â, he grinned, such a dumb and silly look while his eyes were only half lidded, âI need to fuck you- pleaseâ.
Jisung curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot and making you moan. He tried to bribe you, dragging his fingers out with a nasty wet sound, pushing them back in so slowly.
âTell me again that you want meâ, he demanded, it sounded so desperate, so full of hope and although it was crushing your heart how devoted he looked at you while saying that, you wanted to hear it over and over again.
His fingers stayed inside, he scissored them - feeling you and stroking your most sensitive spot with careful precision.
âI want you, Sungieâ, you told him, delighted in the way his pupils dilated, âRaw. Right here, right nowâ.
Your voice was barely a whisper, driven by your lust and suffocated in groans.
âFuckâ.
Jisung pulled his fingers out immediately and first you whined at the loss of stimulation before the same sound escaped again, when you saw him sticking his digits into his mouth. He pushed them past his lips to suck them clean, eyes closing in bliss.
Hurried hands moved to open his pants and pull them down as much as needed to free his cock, coating it with his precum in a few hasty strokes.
He got close again, quickly lining himself up to your entrance before he pushed in. The first inch had him grunt in desperation, the second made him whine.
âMore, Sungie. Give me moreâ, you gasped.
He trembled heavily, twitching inside of you as if he was about to cum already.
âStop squeezing me-â, he breathed, pushing in steadily but torturously slowly until he bottomed out.
Both of you moaned, your hands clawed at him to urge him to finally move, but he took his sweet time with it. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath was hot against your skin there.
âI canât believe- fuck- you feel so so goodâ, he choked out, grinding into you without properly pulling out between thrusts.
You smoothed out the hair in his neck, stroking him there to soothe his restless shivering on top of you.
It took him a few minutes, he was so caught up in the intense feeling of your walls gripping him, that he had to snap back into reality.
âI bet- I bet Hyunjin-ah doesnât fuck you this goodâ, he said, the cocky grin on his lips was so unfamiliar, it was only for you to witness.
But his ego was incredibly pushed like this, with you writhing underneath him although you were someone elseâs - although you shouldnât moan his name out loud.
âI donât want you to try for a babyâ, he got up on his knees again as much as it was possible, his hand splaying out where Hyunjins had touched you just moments ago, âI bet I could get you pregnant like this-â.
He was drunk on you, there wasnât a single coherent thought in his head in that moment. Dark eyes were empty, but so full of you, just you and nothing else.
âIâm gonna fill you up- please let me, yeah? You can pretend itâs his, but-â, his hand pressed down on the bulge his cock left there and you arched your back off the leather seats.
You were lost for words, couldnât even answer his delusional statements, because the dopamine mixed in with adrenaline rushing through your body was making you dumb as well.
âPlease let me fill you up-â, his voice was so whiny, so desperate for you, âNo one has to know it is mine, we can keep it a secretâ.
You were so close already, but you didnât care. Usually, your sessions with Jisung were pretty quick, because they had to be. Just like now, you heard voices coming closer and you felt your blood boil and freeze at the same time.
âJisung-â, you hissed, but you couldnât keep quiet.
The thrill of people being outside, the possibility of getting caught seemed to spur him on and he picked up his pace.
âJisung, wait-â, you tried again, pulling him down to your chest again to stop him from moving.
âCanât- feels so-â, he slurred, mouth latching on your tit, hand pulling your bra down to have better access.
His lips found your right nipple, sucking it into his mouth and between his teeth.
âHahh- fuckâ, you moaned, tears forming in your eyes.
The fear of someone from the management finding you here was persistent, but Jisung was very eager to help you and find arousal in this kind of anxiety. The voices got quieter again, but none of you seemed to care now either way.
Jisungs tongue rolled against your nipple while fucking you into the seats with a sloppy pace, you were so wet it echoed in the car.
âGonna fill you up, gonna make sure it takes-â, he gasped, âFuck-â.
He pushed you over the edge, his words heightening the sensation of the cool in your stomach finally snapping as you clenched down on his length.
âJi- hahhâ, you whimpered, pulling on his hair to push his face closer to yours so you could kiss him.
He moaned into your mouth, opening his lips to let you taste him as you liked. He fucked you through your orgasm, hips snapping sharply into you until he finished deep inside you.
Jisungs breath was as heavy and quick as yours, pushing his cum in deeper.
âPlease-â, he whispered, âPlease, let me do that again. I- Iâll drive you home later, I need-â.
You grinned, pushing his hair out of his face. Hyunjins plan had worked, he was a mess.
warnings: super famous hyunjin, confident reader, suggestive
đ he's mine · MoKenStef
THE APARTMENT was quiet in a comfortable way, filled only by the low sound of the television and the clinking of the glass in your hand.
on your phone screen, another edit. and another, and another.
and another one.
Hwang Hyunjin in slow motion leaving a fashion show in Paris like it had been engineered in a lab specifically to destroy the female publicâs sanity.
black coat slipping off his shoulders, tired gaze, rings shining on his fingers while he fixed his hair.
in the comments, a collective apocalypse:
âHE KNOWS THE EFFECT HE HASâ
âthis man ruined my lifeâ
âI would let him step on meâ
you let out a small laugh through your nose, resting your chin on your hand, the worst part was that you understood them, you really did.
Hyunjin was handsome in an irritating way.
almost unfair.
the kind of man that seemed to always exist under cinematic lighting, even in shaky airport videos.
the annoying part was that he was a handsome man, and he knew it.
the pop-up notification appeared on the screen, making you leave TikTok and open WhatsApp:
babe đ§Ą
iâm here, princess!
you took another sip of wine while waiting, less than two minutes later, the door code was typed from outside, and then he walked in.
the suitcase bumped lightly against the wall as it was dropped near the entrance.
Hyunjin looked exhausted.loose black hoodie. mask pulled down to his chin. messy travel hair. heavy sleepy eyes.
and still⊠beautiful, absurdly beautiful.
his eyes found you in the kitchen almost instantly, as if automatically searching.
â you didnât even come to greet me? â â his voice came out low, hoarse from the trip.you slowly lifted your phone.
â i was busy watching this mess â
he narrowed his eyes immediately.
â oh no â you laughed.
â Hyunjin, this girl said you two are spiritually married â â you started reading the comments out loud, getting closer to him.
â good for her â
â this one called you daddy! â
Hyunjin let out a tired sigh, walking slowly toward you.
â babe â â he squeezed your waist.
â hm? â
â put that phone down â
his calm tone didnât fool anyone, you knew him too well.Hyunjin stopped in front of you, sliding his hands slowly over your waist while you were still holding your unlocked phone showing his edits.his fingers gently pressed the fabric of your shirt.
â i spent the whole day hearing people scream my name â â he murmured, leaning his face closer to yours. â â and then i get home and youâre ignoring me because of me. â
you bit back a smile, sooo dramatic.
â poor k-pop sex symbol, it must be so hard being pretty. â â you pouted dramatically. he finally let out a short nasal laugh.
â you think itâs funny until someone tries to steal your boyfriend. â â he started drawing small invisible circles on your waist
.â no oneâs gonna steal you. â â you didnât even really look at him, you knew exactly what you meant, you were sure.
â i know â â he answered softly.
since you started dating, even with his wish, you never wanted to appear publicly with him, because you didnât want to lose your peace.
even though close friends said it would work as âprotectionâ for your relationship, you didnât care.
the whole world could want him to the point of madness, but at the end of the night, it was you wearing his shirt with nothing but underwear underneath.
it was you holding a glass of wine while he buried his face in your neck, tired from the trip.
Hyunjin snatched the phone from your hand without warning.
â hey! â â you pouted, watching the smile grow on his face.
â enough of my edits for today. â
â jealous of your own fandom? â â you raised an eyebrow.
â i miss you. â the answer came out so simple it made your chest tighten a little, he dropped the phone on the sofa without even looking where it landed, going back to holding your waist right after.
â come here â â he murmured, pulling you toward the bedroom.
damn, maybe the girls in the comments were right about one thing: it was impossible to say ânoâ to him.
synopsis: bf!skz found out you write... about them... content: smau, cussing, suggestive, suicide jokes, grammar mistakes // typos, petnames (baby, pretty girl, love, doll, hot babe next door LOL) ss: 19
â룚ì: don't mind the times, can't make them work D: also in the bonus, there is one person less, and i am sorry about that, i won't pay </3
also fics i mentioned in the texts: this and that
Summary: Everything was going great with Han... Until management gets involved.
Warnings: a lotta angst but happy ending (for real this time)
Word count: 13.2k.
a/n: AYO THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE ON GAMEBOY WHAT THE HECK I LOVE YOU GUYS?? As I warned, this is heckin angsty but it's got a happy ending xo
[Part One]
âHan, stop!â you squealed as he dug his fingers into your sides under the duvet.
âNever!â he proclaimed, rolling on top of you to get a better angle. âNot until you say it!â
âOkay, okay! Youâre way better at producing than Changbin!â
You gasped for breath as his fingers stopped, a smile plastered to your face as you gazed up at him, his messy hair framing his face. You still had to pinch yourself sometimes to believe that this was real. That the past few months had really happened.
He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking, and you flushed as he trailed off, knowing what he wanted.
âYouâre way better at producing than Changbin⊠baby.â
Your flush deepened even further as his smirk softened and he leaned down to place a tender kiss on your lips, mumbling a soft âthought soâ.
You huffed out a breath as he let his body weight drop on you, wrapping his arms around your waist as your own came up to wrap around his shoulders, one sneaking up to play with the hair at the base of his neck. You loved starting your days like this, in the quiet of your room with Hanâs warmth warming you through, because you knew you wouldnât be able to get this close to him again until you could be sure that no one would see.
Even though youâd been dating for a few months, neither of you had brought up the possibility of becoming official publicly. You knew that Han had a tour coming up with the rest of Stray Kids, and he knew that you were busy focusing on building your own career as a solo artist. Heâd carried on helping you produce your songs, and both of you had written a song about your previous relationship with Wooyoung called Toxic Til The End. You both agreed that it was a song that didnât necessarily need to be shared; it was just a form of therapy for you to get your feelings out in a song.
Youâre brought out of your thoughts by Han shuffling around, burying his nose into your neck. You smiled softly and soothed your fingers up and down his spine, feeling him shiver slightly from your light touch. You knew you had to get up soon â management had called a last-minute meeting â but you wanted to soak up as much of the morning as you could.
You allowed yourself five more minutes before you tapped him lightly on the back, mumbling, âJisung, I have to get ready now. I need to meet with management in an hour.â
You felt as much as heard the groan against your neck. âNo,â he whined. ââm comfy here.â
You chuckled and kissed the side of his face. âI know, but I canât miss this meeting. I canât annoy management this early in my career.â
Han sighed and pushed up onto his elbows, showing you his pout. âLogic isnât fair this early in the morning.â
âMaybe not, but itâs the only way Iâll leave this bed.â
You flushed again as he smiled at you suggestively, leaning in to leave a lingering kiss on your mouth. You pulled away as he tried to deepen it and giggled as you heard him groan, again. You pushed back the covers, stretching, before you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Han was still lying in your bed, but you could feel his eyes on you.
You nearly trip over your own feet walking to the bathroom, still hazy from the peace and warmth of Jisungâs body tangled with yours moments before. The apartment is quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside and the rustle of sheets behind you as Han shifts in the bed.
You push your way into the bathroom, yawning as you flick the light on, but your eyes widen when you catch sight of your neck.
âOh my God.â
Dark marks bloom across your neck and collarbone, impossible to miss against your skin. One particularly obvious love bite sits right beneath your jaw, and you clap a hand over it in horror.
âNo, no, noââ
You spin around and rush back into the bedroom, one hand still pressed to your neck while you dig frantically through discarded clothes for a hoodie, a scarf, anything. From the bed, Han watches you with sleepy amusement, propped up on one elbow, hair messy and lips still swollen from his inability to stop kissing you.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, voice still rough from lack of sleep.
âYou attacked me,â you accuse, horrified. âI canât go outside looking like this!â
He blinks at you slowly before snorting out a laugh. âAttacked you?â
âYes, attacked me! People are going to ask questions!â
You finally find a jumper and clutch it to your chest like salvation. Hanâs smile softens as he watches your panic spiral.
âAnd what,â he says carefully, âwould be so bad about people asking questions?â
You freeze, and the room suddenly feels very still. Han sits up properly now, the blanket slipping down his waist to reveal his tattoos as he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking far more nervous than amused.
âI meanâŠâ He glances away for half a second before meeting your eyes again. âWeâve been hiding for so long.â His voice is quieter now. âIâm tired of pretending youâre not mine.â
Your heart stutters painfully in your chest. âJiâŠâ
âI want people to know,â he admits. âNot in some huge dramatic way. But⊠officially.â He smiles shyly. âIf you want that too.â
The panic draining through your system is replaced by something warm and dizzying. You stare at him for a moment, trying to process the fact that the thing youâd secretly wanted for months is sitting right in front of you.
âYou mean it?â you whisper.
âOf course I mean it.â
He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing across your knuckles. âI hate having to act normal around you in public,â he murmurs. âI hate not being able to hold your hand when I want to. And honestly? I kinda like everyone knowing Iâm the one who did that to your neck.â
You let out a startled laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. âYouâre unbelievable.â
âBut you like me.â
Unfortunately, he says it with that smug little grin that makes your stomach flip every time.
Your expression softens. âI do,â you admit quietly, head cocked to the side as you take everything in.
Hanâs face changes instantly at that â all fondness and relief and affection so overwhelming you can barely stand looking at him.
âSoâŠâ he says carefully, squeezing your hand, âshould we tell management?â
You bite your lip, unable to stop smiling now.
âI have my meeting this morning,â you say. âI can mention it then.â
His eyes light up so brightly that it steals the breath from your lungs. âSeriously?â
You nod once, and before you can say anything else, heâs pulling you back onto the bed with a laugh, wrapping both arms around you tightly as he buries his face back into your neck â thankfully, the unmarked side.
âYou have no idea how happy you just made me,â he mumbles against your skin.
You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair. For the first time ever, hiding doesnât feel necessary anymore.
The excitement you carried from your conversation with Han dies the second you walk out of the meeting room.
The words still echo in your head so loudly you can barely hear anything else.
âTo be desirable, you have to be available.â
You walk down the hallway numbly, fingers curled tightly around your phone. The fluorescent lights overhead feel too bright, and the building suddenly feels cold and unfamiliar, despite the fact that youâve spent years here.
Your contract clearly states that there will be no relationships for the next 3 years.
Three years.
You knew the clause existed when you signed. Everyone did. But back then, relationships felt hypothetical â something distant and avoidable. Not this. Not Han. Not someone who had somehow slipped into every quiet space in your life until loving him felt as natural as breathing.
Youâd tried to argue. Youâd pointed out that fans werenât stupid, that idols dated all the time, that your private life shouldnât matter more than your music, but management hadnât budged. Theyâd surprised you with a tour announcement that was apparently too important to jeopardise. The company was investing too much into your debut, and they were sending you as a support act for Stray Kidsâ world tour. They wanted attention on the music, on the performances, on the image they were selling.
Not on a relationship.
You stop outside the studio door and take a steadying breath before pushing it open. Music spills out instantly, along with laughter, and Han looks up immediately. The second he sees you, his entire face lights up.
âThere you are!â Han practically bounces out of his chair, abandoning the headphones around his neck. âDid they tell you?â
You try to smile.
âAbout the tour?â
âYes!â He grabs your hands immediately, excitement radiating off him. âWeâre together for the whole thing. A whole year.â His eyes shine. âCan you believe that?â
Despite everything, your chest aches fondly at how happy he looks.
âA whole year,â you echo softly.
Han notices it then â the strain in your voice, the way your smile doesnât quite reach your eyes.
His expression falters, releasing your hands in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist. âWhat happened?â
The room quiets around you. The others pick up on the mood quickly enough to awkwardly busy themselves elsewhere, giving you space without saying a word.
You swallow hard, staring over his shoulder. âThey said no.â
Han stills. âWhat?â
âThey donât want us going public.â Your voice comes out smaller than you intended, wobbly. âThey said itâll distract from the tour. From the music.â You laugh bitterly under your breath. âAnd apparently I need to seem âavailable.ââ
The excitement drains from his face so fast it hurts to watch. âThey canât seriouslyââ
âThey reminded me about the contract.â
Han goes silent at that, and his jaw tightens. For a moment, he looks genuinely angry, the kind of anger he rarely lets himself show. His fingers squeeze yours instinctively before he looks away, exhaling sharply through his nose.
âThree years,â he mutters.
You nod once.
The reality of it settles heavily between you. More sneaking around, careful touches when nobodyâs looking. Pretending. Again.
Your throat tightens as you force yourself to say the words you know he needs to hear. âItâs okay.â
Han immediately looks back at you. âItâs not okay.â
âBut it can be.â You step closer, further into his embrace, and you feel his arms tighten around you reflexively. âWe still get the tour. We still get each other.â
His expression crumples slightly at that.
âI wanted to hold your hand in public,â he admits quietly. âI wanted to stop pretending.â
The honesty in his voice nearly breaks you. You reach up and smooth his hair back gently, tucking it behind his ear. It was getting long now⊠I need to hide the scissors, you thought distractedly.
âWe will one day.â
Han leans into your touch instinctively, eyes closing for half a second.
âWhen?â he asks softly.
You donât have an answer, so instead, you wrap your own arms around him tightly, trying to pour all of your frustration and care into the hug. You feel him doing the same, and the studio around you fades away completely.
âA year together,â you murmur against his shoulder, trying desperately to sound hopeful. âThatâs still good, right?â
Han lets out a quiet laugh that sounds dangerously close to sad.
âYeah,â he whispers. âYeah. Itâs good.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you properly again, determination slowly replacing the disappointment in his eyes. âWeâll make it work.â
You nod immediately. âWe will.â
Because even if the world isnât allowed to know yet, the truth remains the same.
Heâs yours, and youâre his.
And you would wait however long you needed to.
Getting ready for the event should have been fun and, honestly, part of it is.
This is your first major industry event as a solo artist. Your stylists fuss around you excitedly, management keeps reminding you how important networking is, and every few minutes, someone says something about how proud they are of how far youâve come. But every time you look at the empty space beside you, your chest aches a little.
Because you should be arriving with Han.
Instead, youâre travelling separately, pretending thereâs nothing between you except professional respect for the producer who has been working with you for months. Your phone buzzes just as your car pulls up outside the venue.
Ji đżïž: where are you?
You: just got here, coming in now
Ji đżïž: iâll find you
Ji đżïž: donât look too pretty before i get there jagi
You canât help smiling at the screen.
Then the car door opens, and reality crashes back in.
The event hall is enormous. Lights flash constantly from every direction as reporters crowd the entrance, shouting names over one another. Idols stand clustered beneath company banners while managers hover nearby like anxious shadows. Everywhere you look, thereâs movement, designer clothes, cameras, and recognisable faces. Itâs overwhelming, and youâve never felt more out of place.
You bow politely through introductions you barely process before escaping deeper into the hall with a drink in hand, hoping to gather yourself and maybe spot Han. You linger near the edge of the room, trying not to look as lost as you feel while your eyes scan the crowd. No Han. No Stray Kids, either. You exhale slowly and take a sip of your drink as your eyes continue to wander, then you make eye contact with someone across the room and freeze, dread pooling in your stomach.
Oh no.
Wooyoung.
You havenât seen him since the breakup. Months of carefully avoiding interviews, schedules, mutual industry events â and now here he is, walking directly toward you with that familiar confident smile that used to charm you once upon a time.
Now it just irritates you.
âWell,â Wooyoung says smoothly as he stops beside you, âthereâs the superstar.â
You force a polite smile, conscious of the people around you. âHi.â
âYou look good.â
âThanks.â
The conversation should end there, but instead, he lingers - too close. Too familiar.
âHowâve you been?â he asks, voice softening slightly. âHavenât heard from you in a while.â
You almost laugh at the understatement. âIâve been busy.â
âI noticed.â His eyes flick over you knowingly. âSolo career suits you.â
Something about the way he says it makes you uncomfortable immediately. You shift slightly away from him and glance around the room again, looking for a way out of the conversation. You finally find Han across the hall, and your heart drops as you notice that his eyes are already locked onto you. Or, more specifically, onto Wooyoung standing far too close to you.
Even from this distance, you can see the fury written across his face.
Beside him, Lee Know has a hand wrapped firmly around his arm, clearly muttering something meant to stop him from storming across the room. Your heart lurches, and you subtly widen your eyes at Han, trying desperately to communicate: Donât. Not here. Not now. Not in front of cameras.
Hanâs jaw tightens visibly. You turn your back slightly toward him, hoping Wooyoung wonât notice the exchange. Unfortunately for you, heâd decided that now is the time to finally pay attention to everything again.
âYouâre nervous,â Wooyoung says quietly.
âIâm not.â
âMhm.â
You frown harder. âWhat do you want?â
His expression shifts then â less charming, more smug.
âI heard rumours,â he says casually. âAbout you and Han.â
Your blood runs cold. âTheyâre rumours.â
Wooyoung hums like he doesnât believe you for a second.
âFunny,â he says, stepping closer again. âYou never looked at me the way you look at him.â
Before you can answer, another voice cuts in sharply.
âMaybe because she actually likes me.â
Your stomach flips, and your eyes dart sideways. Han. Heâs standing beside you now, expression controlled but visibly strained underneath it. Up close, you can tell heâs trying very hard not to lose his temper.
Wooyoung straightens immediately, then smirks. âWell, if it isnât the problem.â
Han laughs once without humour. âPretty sure youâre the one bothering her.â
You step between them slightly before this becomes a headline. âCan we not do this here?â
Wooyoung ignores you completely.
âYou know,â he says to Han, âshe used to talk about me constantly.â
Hanâs expression darkens.
âAnd now she doesnât,â he replies flatly.
Wooyoung scoffs softly. âYou really think this is permanent? Idols break up all the time.â
Your patience snaps.
âWooyoung.â Both men look at you, and you carry on regardless, struggling to keep your composure. âI am never getting back together with you,â you say firmly. âEver.â
The arrogance on Wooyoungâs face falters slightly, but you continue before he can interrupt.
âIâm happy now. Happier than Iâve been in a long time.â Your voice softens instinctively as you glance toward Han. âAnd I love being with him.â
You smile softly at your boyfriend, and Han looks at you like youâve hung the stars in the sky. The anger melts from his face completely, replaced by something so unbearably soft your chest aches. Youâre snapped from your moment by an unknown voice.
âCan we get a picture?â
All three of you turn to see a reporter hurrying over excitedly.
âJust one photo! The fans would love it.â
Absolutely not. You open your mouth to refuse, but somehow you end up shuffled between Wooyoung and Han before you can escape. Cameras flash instantly. You try not to look horrified. Han remains perfectly composed beside you, though you can feel tension radiating off him. Wooyoung, annoyingly, smiles like this is entertaining.
The picture is taken quickly, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
âThank you!â the reporter chirps before disappearing again.
Wooyoung steps away first, but before leaving, he glances at you one last time.
âI donât give up easily,â he says lightly, before walking off into the crowd.
You stare after him in disbelief, and Han immediately turns toward you.
âAre you okay?â
The concern in his voice instantly softens your irritation.
âIâm fine,â you assure him quietly. âAre you?â
He exhales slowly. âAsk me again tomorrow.â
You laugh despite yourself. Han smiles faintly before glancing around the room cautiously. Cameras still flash everywhere.
âI should probably go before someone notices Iâve been standing here too long.â
Your heart sinks a little, but you nod. Before leaving, his fingers brush subtly against yours â hidden by the folds of your outfit where nobody can see. A secret touch, a reassurance, just for the two of you.
Then heâs gone.
But for the rest of the evening, you notice little things. Chan appears nearby whenever reporters crowd you too aggressively. Changbin casually intercepts people trying to pull you into uncomfortable conversations. Minho is watching the room like a security guard.
And Han is always somewhere in your line of sight, hovering close enough to protect you, even if nobody else notices why.
And honestly? You love him a little more for it.
Youâre getting really sick and tired of last-minute meetings, especially when the meeting feels less like damage control and more like punishment.
You sit silently at the long conference table while management talks at you rather than to you, every word tightening the knot in your stomach further.
âYou were too obvious.â
âHan almost caused a scene.â
âYou need to be more careful.â
You grip your hands together beneath the table hard enough for your nails to hurt. âI didnât do anything wrong.â
One of the executives sighs impatiently. âThe issue isnât whether you did something wrong. The issue is perception.â
Perception. Image. Marketability. Words that, at one point, felt incredibly important to you now leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
âThe media response to the event has been overwhelming,â another manager continues. âToo many people are speculating about you and Han.â
You almost laugh. âWell, maybe if you let us just confirm the relationshipââ
âNo.â
The answer comes immediately, their tone firm, final. Your jaw clenches as you try to resist the urge to argue with them.
âWe need attention redirected,â they continue. âAnd conveniently, the event already created another angle.â
Your stomach drops before they even say his name. âNo.â
âYou havenât heard the plan yet.â
âI donât need to.â
But they continue anyway. âWooyoung is willing to cooperate.â
Cooperate.
Like this is business. Like youâre his business.
âYouâll be seen together casually over the next few weeks,â management explains. âCoffee shops. Restaurants. Shared exits after schedules. Nothing confirmed, nothing denied.â
You stare at them in horror as you realise what theyâre implying.
âYou⊠want me to fake-date my ex-boyfriend?â
âNo,â one corrects smoothly. âWe want people talking about possibilities besides Han.â
You push your chair back slightly in disbelief, wanting to create space between their words and yourself. âThis is insane.â
âItâs strategic.â
âItâs cruel.â
The room goes quiet for a moment before the head executive says, âItâs necessary.â
You hate how powerless you feel.
âYou donât understand,â you say quietly. âHan already hates this.â
âThen heâll need to learn professionalism.â
The anger that flashes through you is immediate and sharp.
âHe is professional.â
âThen this shouldnât be a problem.â
You want to scream. Instead, you sit there in silence because you already know how this ends. You already know that the decision is made, and you have no choice but to accept for the sake of your contract and your career. For your future.
They all feel like they are balanced carefully above your head, like something fragile enough to shatter at the slightest mistake.
And for Han and your future together⊠youâd survive anything. Even this.
Later that night, your apartment feels unbearably quiet. Half-packed suitcases sit open across your bedroom floor while clothes spill from drawers and skincare products clutter every available surface.
The tour starts tomorrow, and normally, youâd be excited. Instead, dread curls heavily in your stomach. Behind you, Han lies across your bed, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, one leg dangling off the edge.
âYouâre overpacking,â he says lightly without looking up.
âI am not.â
âYou packed three hoodies yesterday.â
âTheyâre different hoodies.â
Han snorts softly, and the sound makes your chest ache because for a few minutes, everything feels normal. Safe. And youâre about to ruin it.
You stop folding your clothes, take a deep breath and call to him, âJisung.â
He glances up immediately. Something in your face makes him sit up slightly, eyebrows drawing together in concern. âWhatâs wrong?â
You suddenly canât look at him. Managementâs words replay in your head over and over until you feel sick.
âThey want me to do damage control.â
Han frowns. âWhat does that mean?â
Your throat tightens. âThey think people are talking too much about us after the event.â
His expression hardens instantly. âSo?â
You force yourself to continue. âThey want me to be seen with someone else.â
He stares at you as he tries to figure out what you mean. You can see the moment the penny drops and understanding dawns slowly across his face.
âNo.â
You nod once miserably, shoulders hunching in on yourself.
âNo,â he repeats, sharper now.
âThey think itâll distract people.â
âWith who?â
You hesitate too long, and Han knows immediately who youâve been set up with. You can see the anger on his face as he stares at you.
âYouâre joking.â
âI tried to argueââ
âWooyoung?â He actually laughs, but thereâs nothing amused about it. âThey want you photographed with your ex-boyfriend?â
âIt wonât be officialââ
âThatâs even worse.â
You watch hurt replace anger in real time, and you find yourself struggling to make eye contact. You hated hurting him, couldnât stand the guilt that was beginning to take over.
You panic as Jisung stands abruptly from the bed.
âSo what? Iâm just supposed to watch headlines about you and another guy for months?â
âItâs fake.â
âI know itâs fake!â he snaps.
The room falls silent instantly afterwards, and Han closes his eyes briefly, visibly trying to calm himself down. Youâve rarely seen him this upset. Even when you hurt him months ago, he hadnât looked this angry.
âI canât do this tonight,â he mutters finally.
Your chest tightens painfully as he grabs his hoodie from the chair. You try to stop him.
âJiââ
âI just need air.â
He heads for the front door before you can stop him, and fear surges through you immediately. You rush after him barefoot, catching his wrist just as he reaches for the handle.
âPlease donât leave angry.â
He stills, and you can see the conflict written all over his face.
âI hate this too,â you whisper desperately. âI hate every part of it.â
He finally turns toward you, and he looks so hurt. Your eyes are already burning, but the pain on his face brings very real tears to your eyes.
âYou think I want this?â Your voice cracks slightly. âYou think I want to stand beside him pretending everythingâs fine when all I want is to be with you?â
Hanâs expression softens instantly at that, and you grip his hand tighter, begging him with your eyes to change his mind, to stay.
âIâm trying,â you say quietly. âIâm trying to protect everything.â
His shoulders sag slightly, and he looks down at your joined hands. For a long moment, neither of you speaks, but then Han steps closer again, and you feel a rush of hope.
âI know,â he murmurs.
You exhale shakily. âIâm sorry.â
âDonât apologise for something theyâre forcing you into.â
âBut youâre hurt.â
âYeah.â He gives a small, humourless laugh. âI am.â
Honesty always sounds gentler coming from him; it was something youâd always loved about him. He lifts a hand to your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye carefully.
âIâll learn to deal with it,â he says quietly. âI have to, right?â
The words break your heart a little, but you have no choice but to nod weakly. He smiles softly, but itâs full of sadness. He leans down and kisses you softly, and your breath stutters. The kiss isnât desperate or heated. Itâs sad.
His forehead rests against yours afterwards. âIâll see you in the morning,â he whispers, forcing himself to step away before either of you can change your minds.
The door closes softly behind him, and suddenly the apartment feels enormous. Itâs too quiet, too empty without Jisungâs laughter filling the space. You slide slowly down against the wall until youâre sitting on the floor beside your front door, staring at the door he just walked through.
The tour hasnât even started yet, and youâre already terrified of what all this might do to the two of you.
The dorm is quiet when Han gets back.
Most of the lights are off except for the kitchen, where Minho sits eating ice cream straight from the tub while scrolling through his phone like itâs two in the afternoon instead of nearly midnight.
He glances up as Han walks in, then pauses when he sees the look on his face.
âYou look terrible.â
Han drops onto the chair opposite him with a groan, dragging both hands down his face. âThanks.â
âYouâre welcome.â
Normally, the bluntness would earn a laugh. Tonight, Han just sits there staring blankly at the table.
Minho watches him quietly for a moment before setting the ice cream down. âWhat happened?â
Han exhales sharply through his nose. âThey want her to do photo ops with Wooyoung.â
Minhoâs eyebrows lift slightly. âAh.â
âAh?â Han repeats incredulously. âThatâs your reaction?â
âIâm trying not to overreact before you finish explaining.â
Han slumps further into the chair before he tells him everything - the management meeting, the fake rumours, the âdamage control.â How upset you looked while explaining it.
And, eventually, the thing that was actually eating him alive underneath all the anger.
âWhat if this changes things?â Han asks quietly.
Minho stays silent as he looks at him. Han stares down at the table, jaw tight, avoiding his probing gaze as he continues.
âWhat if people start shipping them again? What if management pushes it further? What if she gets tired of hiding and decides this is too difficult?â
The words spill out faster now, all the insecurities heâd tried so hard to swallow clawing their way free.
âI know she says she loves being with me, but this industry ruins things. You know it does.â
Minho studies him carefully for a long moment before he sighs softly and leans back in his chair. âHan-ah.â
Han looks up tiredly as Minho continues. âYou know what this industry is like.â
âItâs not easy,â Minho says plainly. âItâs awful.â He takes another bite of ice cream. âBut sheâs no doubt miserable about it, too.â
Han goes quiet, and Minho waits a second before continuing, but more gently this time.
âEveryone can see how much she likes you.â
Hanâs eyes flicker slightly at that, hallway light catching the sheen in his eyes.
âShe looks at you like you hung the moon,â Minho says casually. âHonestly, itâs embarrassing sometimes.â
That finally earns the smallest snort of laughter from Han, and Minho points his spoon at him immediately, latching on to his better mood.
âIâm serious. She barely looked at Wooyoung last night unless she absolutely had to. But you?â He shakes his head. âYou walk into a room, and suddenly she forgets how to act normally.â
Warmth stirs painfully in Hanâs chest because underneath all his doubt, he knows itâs true. You do look at him differently⊠Like loving him is instinctive.
Minho softens slightly, seeing the tension ease from his face. âShe told you thereâs nothing to worry about, didnât she?â
Han nods slowly.
âThen believe her.â
Silence settles between them for a moment.
Han leans back in the chair and stares at the ceiling, rubbing his face. âI hate that she has to go through this.â
âI know.â
âI hate that I canât fix it.â
Minho hums quietly. âThat part never really changes.â
Han closes his eyes briefly, thinking about what was coming. Tomorrow the tour starts. It would be months of hiding, of rumours, of pretending. But underneath it all is still you. You were still the girl who chased him to the door because she couldnât stand the thought of him leaving upset. You were still the girl who said she was happy with him without hesitation.
You were still his.
Minho nudges the tub of ice cream toward him, holding his spoon out. âYouâll survive.â
Han looks at him flatly. âYour comforting skills are incredible, hyung.â
âI know.â
Despite himself, Han smiles faintly.
On the other side of town, you barely sleep. Every time your eyes close, your mind replays the look on Hanâs face when he left your apartment. He was hurt but trying not to show it, trying to be understanding anyway.
By four in the morning, you give up on sleep entirely.
Your phone sits beside you on the bed the entire night, painfully silent. You donât message him. Part of you wants to desperately â wants reassurance, wants him to tell you everythingâs okay, wants to hear him call you baby in that sleepy voice that always melts the tension right out of you. But fear wins. Because what if he doesnât answer? Or worse⊠ What if he does, and itâs different?
By the time youâre in the car heading toward the airport, your stomach is twisted into knots so tight you feel nauseous. Tour is supposed to be exciting. Instead, all you can think is heâs going to break up with me. You hate yourself a little for thinking it, but anxiety doesnât care about logic.
The airport is already chaotic when you arrive. Staff rush around organising luggage while security attempts to control the crowds gathered outside. Reporters swarm the main entrance, waiting for Stray Kids to arrive.
Your manager quickly ushers you toward the quieter back entrance.
âThe boys are handling press out front,â they explain. âYouâll board separately.â
You nod numbly. Honestly, youâre relieved. Youâre not sure you could survive pretending everythingâs normal in front of Han right now.
You turn the corner and stop dead in your tracks. Wooyoung is leaning casually against the wall, waiting for you. Your heart sinks as soon as you make eye contact.
âMorning,â he says easily, a grin on his face.
Right. The photo ops. Just what you need.
Your manager brightens immediately at the sight of him. You, on the other hand, want to disappear. Instead, you force a tight smile and stand beside Wooyoung while cameras magically appear from seemingly nowhere. Questions get thrown at both of you while flashes explode in your face. You barely hear any of it. You just smile politely, nod occasionally. Pretend. Wooyoung plays the role naturally, leaning slightly closer once or twice for the cameras. You feel worse than you did in the car.
By the time you finally reach security, your chest feels tight with anxiety. It just gets worse when you look up and see Jisung. Heâs standing further ahead with the rest of the members, cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, watching.
Your breath catches, and for one horrible second, you think he looks angry again. But when your eyes meet, he smiles. Itâs small but soft. Reassuring.
He turns away as if nothing happened, but relief hits you so suddenly that your knees nearly give out.
He doesnât hate you. Heâs still here.
You spend the next ten minutes trying to steady your breathing as you follow the staff through the private boarding area. Exhaustion finally crashes over you all at once now that the panic is easing. You just want your seat, your headphones, and to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
Youâre halfway down the corridor toward the plane when suddenly a hand grabs your wrist. You gasp in alarm as youâre quickly tugged sideways into the disabled bathroom nearby. The door clicks shut, and you spin around in panic before immediately sagging in relief.
âJisungââ
Before you can say anything else, he pulls you tightly into his arms.
âIâm sorry,â he says immediately into your hair. âIâm so sorry.â
Your entire body melts against him in relief. âYou scared me,â you whisper shakily. You both know youâre not just talking about now.
âI know.â His arms tighten around you. âI know, baby, Iâm sorry.â
The endearment nearly makes you cry from sheer relief. He pulls back just enough to look at you properly and immediately frowns.
âYou look exhausted.â
You laugh weakly. âCouldnât sleep.â
Guilt flashes across his face instantly. âBecause of me?â
You donât answer fast enough, and he closes his eyes briefly, as if the confirmation physically pains him.
âI never wanted to be the reason you lost sleep,â he says quietly.
Your chest aches. âYou werenât,â you lie softly.
Jisung gives you a look that says he knows better.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The airport noise outside feels distant compared to the tiny space youâre crammed into together.
He exhales slowly. âI was angry,â he admits. âNot at you. I swear.â His fingers tighten slightly against your waist. âI just hated seeing you dragged into all this because of me.â
âItâs not because of you.â
âIt feels like it.â
You shake your head immediately. âI understand why you were upset.â
Han looks uncertain, and you smile sadly.
âIf the situation were reversed and they wanted you photographed with an ex-girlfriend?â You huff softly. âIâd lose my mind.â
That finally pulls a small laugh from him. âReally?â
âAbsolutely.â
His forehead drops gently against yours.
âI trust you,â he murmurs. âI just⊠need time to stop wanting to fight everyone.â
You laugh quietly despite yourself. âI noticed.â
Han groans softly. âMinho told me I was being dramatic.â
âHe was right.â
âWow. Betrayed by my own girlfriend.â
Girlfriend. The word settles warmly between you.
Your eyes soften immediately.
âI missed you,â you whisper suddenly, feeling embarrassed that it hadnât even been 24 hours since you last saw him. You didnât know how to explain that you missed the possible future without Jisung that your brain had fooled you into believing wouldnât have been in your life.
Hanâs expression melts completely. The exhaustion leaves his face all at once, replaced by something unbearably tender.
âI missed you, too.â
Then he kisses you.
Quick at first.
Gentle.
Like reassurance more than anything else.
But when your fingers clutch the front of his hoodie desperately, he kisses you again properly, warm and lingering and full of everything neither of you can say publicly.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless.
âWe should go before people notice,â you whisper reluctantly.
Han sighs dramatically.
âYouâre always ruining my plans.â
âYou dragged me into an airport bathroom.â
âAnd it worked, didnât it?â
You laugh for real this time.
God, you missed him.
Han brushes one last thumb beneath your eye gently before opening the door carefully.
âCome on,â he murmurs softly. âLetâs go start our tour.â
Tour becomes the strangest contradiction of your life.
Youâve never been happier⊠And youâve never been more exhausted by pretending.
Still, the moment you step onto the stage for your first performance as a soloist, everything else disappears. The crowd is deafening. Lights blind you the second the music starts, adrenaline surging so hard through your veins you almost forget to breathe. Thousands of people sing your lyrics back at you, your name echoing through the arena in a way that makes your chest ache with emotion. Â For those few minutes, you arenât somebodyâs girlfriend. You arenât a scandal risk or a contract. Youâre just you. And when you finish the final song to roaring applause, you nearly cry backstage from the overwhelming relief and joy of it all.
The first person you look for is Jisung. He catches you before you even properly make it behind the curtain, grabbing your face with both hands.
âYou were incredible.â
His eyes are shining so brightly that you almost melt on the spot.
âI messed up the second verse.â
âYou absolutely did not.â
âI did!â
âNobody noticed because they were too busy falling in love with you.â
You snort out a laugh, cheeks burning, and he beams at you like he personally put the stars in the sky.
Later that night, after schedules finally finish and staff disappear to their own rooms, you unlock your hotel door expecting nothing more than a shower and sleep. Instead, your room is covered with candles. Thereâs soft music playing from a portable speaker set up in the corner, and rose petals are scattered across the white duvet.
You freeze in the doorway, confused, until you see him. Jisung stands near the table, looking suddenly nervous despite all the effort clearly put into this.
âSurprise?â
Your mouth falls open. âJiâŠâ
The look on your face makes him smile instantly.
A full dinner is laid out across the small hotel table â room service desserts, expensive wine neither of you particularly likes but thought looked romantic, and a tiny handwritten note propped beside your plate.
You stare at it all in disbelief and ask, âYou did all this?â
âWell, I couldnât exactly take you out publicly,â he says sheepishly. âSo I improvised.â
Your chest hurts from how much you love him. You cross the room quickly and throw your arms around his neck without another thought. Han laughs softly as he catches you, holding you close.
âWas it too much?â he asks into your hair.
âNo,â you whisper immediately. âItâs perfect.â
And honestly? It is, because even hidden away in a hotel room halfway through tour preparations, he still finds ways to love you loudly.
The next few weeks settle into something dangerously domestic.
You wake up tangled together almost every morning, warm hotel sheets twisted around your legs while sunlight creeps through the curtains. Han always tries to leave before the others wake up⊠Heâs terrible at it.
One morning, youâre still half asleep when you watch him stumble around the room trying to find his hoodie with his hair sticking up in every direction.
âYou look ridiculous,â you mumble into the pillow.
âI look stealthy.â
âYou walked into the wardrobe five seconds ago.â
Han glares at you weakly before leaning down to kiss your forehead anyway. âGo back to sleep.â
You giggle quietly as he sneaks out into the hallway, looking thoroughly dishevelled and deeply suspicious. Somehow, nobody catches him. Or maybe the others just choose not to say anything. Unfortunately, though, outside those hotel rooms, reality still waits.
The âsightingsâ with Wooyoung continue exactly as management planned.
The park is first.
You wear your hair down specifically to hide the wireless earphones tucked carefully beneath it, one AirPod playing music quietly so you donât actually have to talk to him. Paparazzi conveniently âspotâ the two of you walking side by side beneath the trees near the hotel.
From the pictures, it probably looks peaceful. Romantic, even. In reality, you spend most of it staring ahead, pretending not to notice the cameras, while Wooyoung occasionally attempts conversation, which you barely respond to.
The second sighting at the coffee shop is worse.
By then, articles are already circulating online. Could there be something between them? Fans are constantly speculating after recent appearances. You want to scream every time you see them.
âYou really hate this, huh?â Wooyoung asks eventually, stirring his drink lazily.
You donât even bother denying it.
âI told you already,â you say quietly. âIâm happily with someone.â
His expression dims slightly, though not enough. âStill him?â
You look up immediately. âYes,â you answer firmly. âStill him.â
And despite everything â the cameras outside, the rumours online, the constant pressure weighing on your shoulders â your heart feels lighter saying it because every night still ends the same way.
Back in secret hotel rooms, in Hanâs arms, with sleepy kisses in the dark and whispered words that nobody else gets to hear.
And for now, thatâs enough.
The sighting that ruins it all is the one you least expected.
You were a month into tour, and exhaustion started creeping into everything.
The performances were the easy part. You loved being on stage. You loved the crowds, the adrenaline, and the feeling of slowly becoming more confident every single night. Supporting Stray Kids has become strangely natural too â backstage chaos, rehearsals, shared meals at ridiculous hours of the night.
Itâs the pretending thatâs exhausting. All the hiding, the constant calculations, the carefully timed entrances and exits from hotel rooms. The way your hand instinctively reaches for Hanâs, only for you to stop yourself at the last second if someoneâs nearby. And most of all⊠Wooyoung.
The fake sightings just keep happening. Management becomes relentless once the initial rumours start gaining traction online. Every few days, thereâs another âaccidentalâ encounter planned at a restaurant or on a walk. Sometimes itâs a shared ride or a conveniently photographed conversation outside venues.
You cancel as many as you can. You genuinely do. You use rehearsals as excuses. Vocal strain. Fittings. Meetings. Jet lag. Anything you can think of. But sometimes management refuses to budge, and apparently tonight is one of those nights.
âIâm just saying,â Jisung says from where heâs pacing your hotel room, frustration bleeding into every word, âit feels like you could push back harder.â
You stare at him in disbelief. âI have been pushing back harder.â
âThen why does it keep happening?â
âBecause they donât care what I want!â
The room falls silent for half a second, and he stops pacing. You instantly regret snapping, but the exhaustion sitting heavy in your chest makes it hard to soften yourself quickly enough.
âI know,â he says, quieter now. âI know they donât.â
But he still looks upset. Still tense. Hurt.
Part of you understands. Every time another article comes out pairing your name with Wooyoungâs, you feel sick too. But another part of you is just tired - so unbelievably tired.
âIâm doing everything I can,â you say finally, rubbing at your face. âIâm trying to keep management happy enough not to ruin my career, Iâm trying to survive my first tour, and Iâm trying to keep our relationship together while nobodyâs allowed to know it exists.â
His expression shifts immediately, and guilt flickers across his face.
âThatâs not what I meantââ
âNo, but thatâs what it sounds like.â Your voice cracks slightly despite yourself. âLike Iâm failing some test because I canât magically make them stop.â
âYouâre not failing.â
âThen stop acting like Iâm choosing this!â
Jisung goes quiet, and the hurt on his face makes your anger falter instantly, but before either of you can fix it, thereâs a knock on the door. Â Both of you freeze, and your stomach sinks immediately. The staff member assigned to ensure you make it on time is right on time. Another knock follows when you donât answer, and a voice carries through the door.
âWe need to leave in five minutes,â a staff member calls through the door.
The atmosphere in the room changes instantly. Itâs back to reality, and back to pretending. Jisung looks devastated by it.
âSeriously?â he mutters bitterly.
You close your eyes briefly, feeling the faint pain of a headache building from your stress.
âI have to go.â
âI know, butââ He steps toward you immediately. âCan we not leave it like this?â
The frustration in his voice hurts more now because you know it isnât anger anymore. Itâs worry. You grab your bag silently, avoiding his eyes because if you look at him for too long, you might cry.
Thereâs another impatient knock, and you feel your patience fraying as the staff member speaks up again.
âMiss? The carâs waiting.â
Han runs a hand through his hair roughly. âJust tell them to wait two minutes.â
âThey wonât.â
âI donât care.â
âBut I do!â The words come out sharper than intended, patience finally wrung out. You inhale shakily before softening slightly. âI canât keep giving them reasons to watch me more closely.â
Han falls silent, and you finally force yourself to look at him properly. His eyes are full of concern now instead of frustration.
âBabyâŠâ
The worry in his voice nearly undoes you.
âIâll see you later,â you whisper quietly.
Jisung still looks unsettled. Like he hates the idea of you walking out that door while things feel unresolved between you.
âI donât want you leaving upset,â he admits softly.
Your chest aches painfully. âIâm not upset at you.â
Thatâs the truth. Youâre upset at the situation and at management. At the constant pressure squeezing tighter and tighter around both of you.
He steps closer like he wants to kiss you goodbye properly, but another sharp knock interrupts again. âWe really need to go now.â
You both flinch apart instinctively.
The momentâs gone.
You sling your bag over your shoulder and head toward the door reluctantly. Jisung catches your wrist just before you open it.
âIâll be waiting for you,â he says quietly.
Your eyes burn unexpectedly before you open the door. Staff immediately begin ushering you down the hallway before either of you can say anything else. You glance back once, and Hanâs still standing in the middle of your hotel room, watching you leave, looking like there are a hundred things he still wants to say.
And somehow that image stays with you all the way to the car, waiting to take you to another fake date with someone you stopped loving a long time ago.
By the time you arrive at the restaurant, your head is pounding, and you barely remember the drive there. All you can think about is Jisung standing in the middle of your hotel room, looking worried, while you walk away from him.
You hate leaving things unresolved, especially with him.
The restaurant is loud and packed with people, with warm, low-hanging golden lights, overcrowded tables, and conversations blurring into an overwhelming din. Itâs easily the busiest place management has arranged for you and Wooyoung to be seen together so far, but it doesnât surprise you. More people means more cameras, which means more opportunities for rumours.
You spot Wooyoung already seated near the windows â strategically visible, naturally. He smiles when he sees you approaching, but it fades slightly once you sit down.
âYou look miserable.â
You give a dry scoff in response instead of answering.
Wooyoung studies you for a second. âYouâre quieter than usual tonight.â
You stare blankly at the menu despite already knowing you wonât be hungry enough to eat much. âMaybe because I donât want to be here.â
âThatâs never stopped you before.â
You look up sharply, and Wooyoung leans back in his chair slightly. âYou used to talk a lot, you know.â
You roll your eyes immediately. âAnd?â
âIâm serious.â
âWooyoung, please.â
He goes quiet for a moment before sighing softly. âYou look stressed lately.â
Something in you finally snaps. Youâre not sure why exactly. Maybe because youâre exhausted, or because you already miss Jisung. Maybe because youâre tired of everyone expecting things from you constantly.
You put the menu down harder than intended.
âBecause I am stressed,â you say sharply. âIâm exhausted all the time, I barely sleep, management controls every second of my life, my relationship has to stay hidden while they parade me around with my ex-boyfriend, and if I breathe wrong, thereâll probably be an article about it tomorrow.â
Wooyoung blinks in surprise, but you arenât finished yet.
âAnd Iâm trying so hard to keep everything together while everyone around me acts like Iâm some kind of product instead of a person.â
The words spill out faster now.
âIâm tired of cameras. Iâm tired of fake smiling. Iâm tired of pretending Iâm okay with any of this.â
A camera flashes outside the window suddenly, and Wooyoung reacts instantly, reaching across the table to grab your hand.
âThere,â he murmurs quietly. âThatâs why.â
Your stomach twists unpleasantly, but you immediately force a smile toward the window before smoothly pulling your hand back from his. The second the cameras lower, your expression drops flat again.
Wooyoung watches you carefully before he surprises you.
âIâm sorry.â
You blink at him. âFor what?â
âFor⊠everything, I guess.â He looks strangely sincere for once. âI wasnât good to you when we were together.â
You stare at him for a second before rolling your eyes again. âOkay.â
His mouth opens slightly. âThatâs it?â
âWhat do you want me to say?â
âI donât know. Maybe that you forgive me?â
You almost laugh. âWooyoung, I genuinely do not care anymore.â
And surprisingly, itâs true. Whatever heartbreak once existed there feels distant now. Faded. Unimportant compared to what you have with Jisung.
You just feel tired.
âI just want to finish this dinner,â you say quietly.
After that, the conversation dies almost completely. You eat mechanically while Wooyoung occasionally attempts small talk, which you barely engage with. Outside the windows, photographers continue lurking like vultures.
By the end of the meal, exhaustion weighs so heavily on you that you feel hollow. You just want Jisung. You want his arms around you, and you want to crawl into bed beside him and apologise properly and pretend none of this exists for a few hours. The thought alone keeps you moving as the dinner finally ends.
Outside the restaurant, cameras immediately begin flashing again.
You force yourself through one final polite goodbye. âGoodnight, Wooyoung.â
You turn to leave, but his hand suddenly catches your arm. Before you can react properly, Wooyoung pulls you toward him and kisses the corner of your mouth.
Flashes explode around you instantly, and your entire body freezes in shock. But not for long. You shove him away hard enough that he stumbles slightly.
âWhat the hell are you doing?!â
Wooyoung looks entirely too calm.
âRelax,â he says lightly, glancing toward the cameras. âIâm sticking to the plan.â
Your stomach turns violently. âThat was not the plan.â
He shrugs. âPeople will eat it up.â
You stare at him in complete disbelief. For one horrible second, all you can think about is Jisung seeing the pictures. Seeing that.
Your chest tightens painfully.
âYou donât get to touch me like that,â you snap quietly.
Something flickers across Wooyoungâs face then â annoyance, maybe guilt â but you donât stay long enough to figure it out. You turn immediately and walk away as fast as you can, ignoring the shouting reporters behind you.
Your skin feels wrong.
Your mouth feels wrong.
And all you want is to get back to Han before the internet does.
The entire drive back to the hotel feels like drowning in anxiety.
Your phone wonât stop vibrating from constant notifications, messages, articles, and tags. The second that photo hit the internet, it spread everywhere. Fans caught it from different angles. Paparazzi posted blurry close-ups within minutes. Headlines were already appearing before youâd even left the restaurant district.
IDOLS CONFIRM ROMANCE RUMOURS AFTER SHARING INTIMATE MOMENT.
You feel sick every time you glimpse the image under the headline. It looks real. The different camera angles create an illusion of attachment, of love. Your nausea increases as you scan the article and see your own worst nightmare brought to life â people believe thereâs something very real between you and Wooyoung.
By the time the car pulls up outside the hotel, panic has fully settled into your chest.
Han.
You need to explain to Han before he spirals, before he believes it.
You practically run through the lobby and into the elevator, heart hammering painfully the entire way up. Your hands shake so badly, fumbling for your room card, that you nearly drop it twice.
The door swings open, and your stomach drops when you notice that your room is empty. Han said heâd wait for you and promised that heâd be here.
âJisung?â
Nothing. The room is silent except for the hum of the air conditioning. Your panic surges harder as you realise you might not have got here in time, and youâre already rushing back into the hallway before the door fully closes behind you.
You pound on Hanâs hotel door desperately, dying to find him.
âJisung?â
Thereâs no answer, and you knock again harder.
âHan, pleaseââ
You place your ear to the door when you hear muffled voices, but you realise that itâs not coming from his room, but the room next door. Lee Knowâs room.
You hurry over immediately and knock hard enough that your knuckles hurt. The voices inside stop, and you call through the door.
âMinho,â you call shakily. âPleaseâ can I talk to Han?â
Thereâs a long pause, and youâre about to knock again when the door opens slightly. Minho stands there looking tired and hesitant. Your heart sinks further.
âPlease,â you whisper immediately. âI need to explain.â
Minho glances back over his shoulder, deciding on how to answer, when another figure appears behind him.
Han.
Your breath catches painfully at the lack of emotion on his face. You expected anger and sadness, but his eyes looked empty, his expression defeated.
âJisungââ
âI always worried youâd go back to him.â
The words hit you like a physical blow. âWhat? Noââ
âItâs not even just tonight.â His voice is quiet, exhausted. âI tried not to think about it every time management sent you out together.â
Youâre already shaking your head before he finishes his sentence. âHan, it wasnât my choiceââ
âI know.â
But he says it in a way that sounds like it doesnât matter anymore.
You stare at him desperately, begging him to believe you. âItâs not what it looked like.â
Han gives a tiny, sad smile that nearly breaks you in half.
âThatâs the problem,â he says softly. âIt looked exactly like what I was scared of.â
Your eyes fill instantly. âNo, listen to meâ he kissed me, I pushed him away immediatelyââ
âBut he still kissed you.â
The hurt in his voice cracks straight through your chest. He looks exhausted â not physically, but completely emotionally exhausted.
âI kept trying to ignore it,â he admits quietly. âThe photos. The articles. How natural you looked together.â
âNatural?â you repeat incredulously. âHan, I barely spoke to him!â
âBut nobody else knows that.â
You step closer desperately. âIt was staged.â
âI know it was staged,â he says again.
Somehow, hearing that hurts worse, because he does know. He knows you⊠And heâs still giving up.
Hanâs eyes finally meet yours fully, and your stomach twists violently at the emptiness there.
âI just thinkâŠâ He swallows hard. âMaybe this was always going to be too difficult.â
âNo.â The answer leaves you instantly. You know you must look terrified, and you can't help but plead with him. âNo, donât say that.â
Hanâs expression crumples slightly at the panic in your voice, but he keeps going anyway.
âWe canât even argue properly without being dragged apart for publicity schedules.â His laugh is hollow and quiet. âWe hide constantly. We barely get to be real together outside hotel rooms.â
âWe can fix it.â
âI donât think we can.â
Tears spill down your face immediately. âJisung, please.â
He looks at you for one long, awful second, and you can see it. You can see how much he loves you. You think it must be that which makes this unbearable.
âThank you,â he says quietly, voice cracking slightly, âfor the last few months.â
Your heart stops.
âNo.â
âBut I think itâs better if we stop now before this hurts worse.â
You actually stare at him in disbelief. You feel like your brain physically cannot process the words. You canât believe that this morning you were waking up, wrapped in his arms, and hours later he was breaking up with you.
Han takes one slow step backwards, then another.
âJisung, please ââ
He turns away and walks back into Minhoâs room. You immediately try to follow, panicked beyond reason now, but Minho steps into the doorway and blocks your path gently but firmly.
âMinho, move.â
âYou need to give him space.â
âNo, I need to talk to him!â
Your voice breaks completely.
Inside the room, you can hear movement, but Jisung doesnât come back, doesnât say another word. The silence is devastating.
âPlease,â you beg Minho desperately. âPlease let me in. I love him, Minho! I promise.â
Minhoâs face softens slightly as you gasp for breath, the pain in your chest unbearable.
âI know.â
âThen tell him!â
âHeâs hurt.â
âSo am I!â
âI know,â Minho says quietly. âBut right now he needs space to think.â
You shake your head immediately, tears falling harder now. âThereâs nothing to think about. Heâs what I want.â
The conviction in your voice makes Minhoâs expression flicker sadly. But he still doesnât move aside.
âYou both need time,â he says gently. âYouâre exhausted. Emotional. Everythingâs been building for weeks.â
You wipe angrily at your tears. âI donât want time. I want to fix this.â
Minho sighs softly.
âIâm tired,â he admits. âAnd right now my priority is looking after him.â
The words hurt more than they should because suddenly youâre outside the room. Alone.
Minhoâs hand tightens slightly on the door. âWeâll see you tomorrow for soundcheck.â
You stare at him helplessly as the door closes quietly in front of you.
That night, you donât sleep. Not even for a minute.
You lie in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, as the world outside slowly shifts from darkness to pale morning light. Every time you close your eyes, you see Han walking away from you again.
Thank you for the last few months.
The words replay so relentlessly in your head, you think you might actually lose your mind.
At some point, your phone buzzes repeatedly on the bedside table. First, itâs your tour staff, then itâs management. Eventually, you even get one message from Chan asking if youâre okay after missing breakfast. You donât answer anyone, you just silence your phone and roll over to stare at the wall.
By the time soundcheck rolls around, you still havenât moved from the bed. You physically canât make yourself. The idea of seeing Han and pretending to function normally feels impossible. So, you stay there curled beneath the duvet in yesterdayâs clothes while the hotel room remains dark around you.
Eventually, management starts panicking â there are more calls. More knocks. Messages begging for you to answer because you have the concert later. You finally drag yourself up barely an hour before it starts because you know you canât miss the performance entirely.
Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You look awful. Your eyes are swollen from spending all day and night crying, and your skin is pale. You look like somebody hollowed you out from the inside.
The arena backstage feels painfully familiar when you arrive. Usually, you love the energy before a show â the rush of staff running around, the sound checks, the excited nerves humming through everyone. Tonight it just feels cold.
You see Stray Kids almost immediately, and your chest caves in.
Han is standing with the others while a stylist fixes his in-ear monitors. For one horrible second, instinct makes your body lean towards him automatically. Towards your comfort and your home. Then you remember that you canât do that anymore.
Han looks up, and your eyes meet briefly. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he looks away first. The motion is small, but it devastates you anyway. There was no smile, no secret glance, no mouthed good luck like always. Nothing.
You have never felt lonelier in your life.
The rest of the members notice you, too, but the atmosphere is now painfully awkward. Changbin gives you a hesitant nod, and Felix looks openly concerned. Minhoâs expression softens slightly when he sees how exhausted you look, but he doesnât approach either. None of them know what to do, and you can't blame them because, honestly, neither do you.
You decide to keep your distance, burying your face in your phone and avoiding everyone, because you know this is hard for them, too. Theyâre his family before theyâre your friends.
Your performance that night is⊠fine. Technically. You hit the notes, and you remember the choreography. The crowd still cheers and sings along to your songs, but you feel disconnected from your own body the entire time, like youâre watching somebody else perform through thick glass.
And afterwards, backstage is worse. Because Han always found you afterwards, even if only briefly. Youâd gotten used to hearing his voice in your ear the second you stepped offstage.
You were amazing.
Iâm so proud of you.
Tonight thereâs nothing. Han walks past you once while talking quietly with Chan and doesnât even glance your way. You almost stop breathing.
Thatâs when it truly sinks in.
This is really happening. Youâve really broken up.
The next two weeks become survival rather than living.
You stop laughing, you stop eating properly. Sleep becomes something distant and unreliable. Some nights you cry silently into hotel pillows until sunrise. Other nights, you just lie awake, numb and empty, while tour buses and aeroplanes blur together endlessly.
You and Han become strangers in public spaces. Heâs professional and polite when needed. Distant like none of those nights tangled together in hotel sheets ever happened.
The members try in their own ways. Felix starts lingering nearby more often, and Chan checks in quietly a few times. Minho watches you with increasing concern every time you show up looking thinner and more exhausted than before.
But nobody mentions Han.
And Han never approaches you.
By the time the final Korea show approaches, youâre barely holding yourself together. Standing on stage feels harder every night. Breathing feels harder every night. Being near Han and not being able to talk to him, to touch him, feels like torture.
You make a decision, realising you canât possibly carry on this way and still keep your sanity. So, you request a meeting with management the day of the final concert.
âI canât continue the international leg of the tour.â
The room goes silent immediately. âWhat?â
You keep your expression blank because if you let yourself feel anything right now, youâll fall apart.
âIâm exhausted,â you say quietly. âIâm not coping well physically.â
âThatâs not an option.â
âIâm telling you now because I physically cannot do this for months more.â
They argue immediately. They mention contracts, schedules, money, and commitments. You sit through all of it feeling strangely detached. Eventually, you lower your gaze and say the one thing you know theyâll take seriously.
âIf I collapse publicly, thatâll be worse for everyone, wonât it?â
Management exchange tense looks, the tension palpable.
You continue softly. âI need to rest. I need to go home.â
In truth, you need to escape from the tour and the heartbreak. From seeing Han every day while pretending you arenât falling apart.
Eventually, begrudgingly, they agree to frame it as illness and exhaustion after the Korea leg finishes. They label it a temporary hiatus. A recovery period.
You nod numbly through the rest of the meeting, then leave before anyone can change their minds. You donât tell the boys, and you donât plan to, partly because you donât think theyâd care anymore. And partly because if Han asked you to stay without the relationship, you know you would.
You just might not survive it.
Later that day, backstage is loud. Staff rush past, carrying headsets and equipment, while stage managers shout out timings amid the arena's chaos. Usually, the noise helps settle your nerves before performances. Tonight, it barely registers.
Your final performance.
The thought feels strangely hollow, much unlike the heavy suitcases loaded into the taxi waiting to take you to the airport. Youâd decided it would be best to have a clean break. There was no point hanging around for anything anymore.
You sit silently in the makeup chair with your mic resting loosely in your hands, staring blankly at nothing while stylists do last-minute touch-ups around you. You donât even know if Han is avoiding looking at you anymore or if youâve simply stopped trying to catch his eye.
âHey.â
You blink slowly and look up. Chan stands nearby, expression careful.
âYou okay?â
The question almost makes you laugh, but you just nod weakly instead. Chan doesnât buy it for a second, and he glances around before pulling up a chair beside you quietly.
âI wanted to ask you something.â
Your stomach twists immediately. Chan rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, eyeing the floor.
âThe photos,â he says carefully. âWith Wooyoung.â
There it is. You lower your eyes to your microphone, thumb soothing the cool metal.
âIâm confused,â Chan admits softly. âBecause I remember how badly he treated you.â
Your throat tightens painfully. Chan had seen some of it firsthand when you and Wooyoung dated. Not all of it, but enough to understand what a horrible place you were in with him.
You swallow hard. âIt wasnât real.â
Chan goes very still. You still donât look at him as you continue quietly, voice numb from repeating this truth over and over in your own head.
âManagement wanted publicity away from Han. They arranged the sightings.â Your fingers tighten around the mic. âThe kiss wasnât planned. He just did it.â
You canât see his face, but you can hear his tone darken. âAnd Han knows that?â
âI tried telling him.â
The words come out hollow.
You turn slightly, and you can see Chan watching you carefully from the corner of your eye. Really watching. You know that he can see the exhaustion and the weight loss. The emptiness sitting behind your eyes.
Realisation slowly dawns across his face.
âOh,â he says softly.
You laugh once weakly. âYeah.â
A staff member suddenly calls your name from across backstage. âFive minutes!â
You slowly stand, smoothing your outfit. Chan rises too, but before he can speak again, you finally look at him and give him a small, tired smile.
âThank you,â you say quietly.
He frowns slightly. âFor what?â
âFor letting me join the Korean leg of the tour.â Your voice softens further. âYouâve all been really kind to me.â
Confusion flashes across Chanâs face immediately. âWhat do you mean Korean leg?â
You just smile again. Itâs small, sad. âThank you for everything, Chris.â
You walk away before he can stop you, and behind you, Chan stands frozen in place.
The crowd screams the second you step onto the stage. Thousands of lights shimmer across the arena like stars while music pounds through the speakers loud enough to shake the floor beneath your feet. Normally the sound energises you, but tonight you feel strangely detached from your own body.
You move through the choreography automatically, smiling when youâre supposed to smile, singing when youâre supposed to sing. A performance built from muscle memory. Then midway through the setâ
You see him.
Wooyoung.
Near the barricade.
Watching you.
And suddenly, all the hurt and exhaustion curdling inside you twists sharply into anger. Youâre not angry at Han or yourself. Youâre angry at him - at the person who kissed you without permission, knowing exactly what it would do.
Your heartbeat pounds loudly in your ears as you make a split-second decision. Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn sharply toward the live band stationed near the side of the stage.
âToxic Till The End,â you say suddenly into your mic. The band members blink in surprise, but you need to do this. You need to tell him, to tell the world.
âNow.â
Your manager looks horrified from the side stage, but you ignore them completely. The crowd erupts excitedly as the musicians scramble to adjust. You step toward the front of the stage slowly, breathing hard.
âThis songâŠâ Your voice echoes through the arena. âWasnât originally meant to be performed yet.â
The crowd quiets slightly, listening. You donât know if itâs the look on your face or the anger in your voice, but you carry on regardless, glancing once toward Wooyoung. You feel a thrill when his expression shifts uncertainly.
âItâs about a recent relationship,â you continue softly. âA toxic one.â
The arena falls completely silent now, and you can practically feel management panicking backstage. You donât care anymore.
âI wrote it with somebody who means the world to me,â you admit quietly. âAnd despite everything⊠Iâm thankful for every second I got to spend with them.â
Your chest aches violently from the truth behind your words, and you close your eyes briefly, composing yourself before continuing.
âTonight feels like the right time to finally share it.â
The music starts, and the first notes ring out low and haunting through the arena.
When you begin singing, every lyric is aimed directly at Wooyoung. Every word is about manipulation and heartbreak and exhaustion sharpened by months of buried anger. You hold eye contact with him relentlessly, and you watch the confidence slowly leave his face.
Good.
For the first time in weeks, you feel honest on stage again. Real.
The emotion cracks through your voice painfully during the second chorus, and youâre confused when the crowd starts screaming. Â You glance sideways and freeze, mic falling from your lips. Han is walking onto the stage, mic in hand. He approaches slowly, eyes locked entirely on you as he sings the words youâve lost.
The arena absolutely loses its mind.
You forget where you are, forget everything except him. For the first time in weeks, Han is looking at you, and you donât know what to do. He reaches you just before your next line and gently lifts your microphone back toward your mouth with one hand. The gesture is so soft it nearly breaks you.
âSing,â he murmurs quietly.
Your eyes immediately fill with tears, but you do. The tears finally fall when Han starts singing with you, standing close, focused just on you. Itâs not officially part of the performance, not rehearsed. Heâs just there beside you, voice blending perfectly with yours while the crowd screams around you. You stare at him in complete shock the entire time. Han doesnât look away once, not during the bridge or the final chorus. Not even when your voice shakes.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, the rest of the world disappears completely. You donât notice Wooyoung storming out of the arena, and you donât notice the managers panicking backstage. You barely even hear the crowd anymore.
Because Han is looking at you like heâs finally seeing you again. Not the version of you from that picture, not the version of you that broke his heart.
For the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe.
When the final note fades into deafening screams, you barely hear any of it. Your chest is heaving from the emotion of the performance, tears still clinging to your lashes as you stare at Han in complete disbelief.
Heâs here.
He came onto the stage for you.
For one suspended moment, neither of you moves. The crowd is losing their minds around you, thousands of phones raised into the air, capturing every second, but suddenly, none of it matters. Because Han is looking at you the same way he used to in hotel rooms at three in the morning.
Like youâre his everything.
And the second you realise that, the words come pouring out before you can stop them.
âI tried to tell you,â you say breathlessly.
Han blinks slightly, startled by the sudden rush of words.
âThe sightings werenât real, I swear to God they werenât real,â you continue desperately. âI hated every single one and I tried so hard to stop them but management kept pushing and I thought if I just got through tour it would calm down andââ
âHeyââ
âAnd the kiss wasnât planned,â you say quickly over him, tears slipping free now. âI pushed him away immediately, Ji, I would never- could never- do that to you.â
The arena has gone strangely quiet. Fans are desperately trying to hear you, and staff are panicking. You donât care anymore.
âI love you,â you whisper brokenly. âI have always loved you.â
âI couldnât stand you looking at me like that anymore,â you admit shakily. âLike I broke something between us.â
Han takes a small step closer instinctively, but his expression changes suddenly.
âWait.â
You sniff weakly. âWhat?â
His eyebrows pull together. âWhat did Chan mean when he said this was your last show?â
Your stomach drops instantly.
Oh.
Chan told him.
You look away immediately, and Hanâs voice softens. âWhat do you mean by the last show?â
Your eyes burn harder. âI canât do it anymore.â
The honesty spills out painfully now that itâs started.
âI canât stand being around you every day and pretending like Iâm okay.â Your voice shakes violently. âI canât keep hiding and watching everything fall apart and acting like Iâm fine with it.â
Han looks horrified. âYou were leaving?â
You nod weakly. âAfter tonight. My bags are already in the taxi.â
âWithout telling me?â
âI thought you hated me.â
The words hit him like a slap, and his face twists instantly. âI never hated you.â
âBut you left me.â
âI was hurt!â he says desperately. âI thought I lost you.â
âYou didnât.â Your voice cracks completely. âYou never did.â
You stare at each other as youâre encompassed by a raw, painful silence. The crowd barely exists anymore. You wipe at your tears roughly and force yourself to keep going before you lose the courage.
âIâll leave you alone after this,â you whisper shakily. âI know thatâs probably what you want now, and I shouldnât have even done thisââ
Han kisses you â hard, suddenly - one hand grabbing your waist while the other cups your face as he pulls you into him like he physically cannot get close enough fast enough.
The arena explodes. Screaming erupts so loudly you feel the stage vibrate beneath your feet, but you canât even process it.
Because Han is kissing you in front of everyone. In front of cameras, managers, and fans.
The entire world.
And he kisses you like heâs been dying to do it for weeks.
When he finally pulls back, youâre both breathless, and your eyes are impossibly wide.
âJisung!â you whisper in panic. âWhat are you doing?â
Immediately, your head snaps toward the backstage area, where managers look seconds away from cardiac arrest. âYouâre going to get in so much trouble.â
Han just looks at you for a second before smiling. Itâs soft and fond and completely unbothered.
âBaby,â he says gently, brushing his thumb beneath your tear-stained cheek, âIâm Han Jisung.â
You blink at him in confusion, and he grins slightly wider.
âWhat are they gonna do?â His eyes flick briefly toward the horrified staff backstage before returning to you. âFire me?â
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, half hysterical and half disbelieving. Han immediately melts at the sound, leaning down to rest his forehead against your own.
âThere she is,â he murmurs softly.
Your chest aches so violently with love for him that you think it might kill you.
The crowd is still screaming around you as Han continues to rest his forehead against yours, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, right there in the middle of the stage.
Thereâs no more hiding. No more pretending.
Just him.
There would be consequences after tonight â furious managers, broken contracts, headlines, backlash, endless meetings, perhaps even penalties neither of you could fully predict yet. By morning, the entire industry would know. The secret you had both protected so desperately was gone now, laid bare beneath arena lights and thousands of screaming voices.
But as Han held you in his arms in your hotel room later that night, thumb brushing reassuringly across your knuckles while the world erupted online, none of it felt frightening anymore.
For months, you had lived in fear of losing your career, opportunities, and reputation. Yet lying beside him now, finally loved out loud, you realised there was something far worse than consequences: living without him. And as Han looked at you with that same soft, unwavering love that had found you on building rooftops and airport bathrooms and across crowded arenas, you knew with absolute certainty that whatever came next, you would survive it together.
As long as you had him, you felt like you could face anything.
a/n: ARE WE HAPPY? WHAT DO WE THINK? AS GOOD AS PART ONE OR PURE SHIT? lmk in the comments xo
I appreciate any and all interactions with my work xo
in which⊠twice and stray kids take part in the JYP game caterers. chaos of course ensues due to the competitiveness of you both.
warnings: fluff, teasing from other members/producer, nothing else really
authors note: based on the new jyp x game caters collab! itâs free to watch on youtube!! gonna make this a series, and do a part for each episode!!
you had practically grown up with chan. being the maknae of twice, born 2000, you were similar in age to chan.
as twice debuted, your unnieâs practically adopting the younger boy, as he moved through his trainee days.
youâll always remember him as the shy young boy, who was waiting for his moment, while he watched his older sisters debut and break records.
but you never forgot him. if anything, when he debuted, the pair of you grew even closer.
it was always a taboo subject. one that you never really spoke about. the thought of dating each other. it had always been clear to everyone in the company about the feelings between the pair of you. but it was something youâd not dare to speak about.
but as you guys slowly grew older, the feeling stayed and also grew with you.
it had always been speculated by fans about the relationship between the two of you. you always showed up at stray kids events, you would speak about them if there was a chance to. the same going for chan. it was pretty obvious, but everyone seemed to like it.
but still to this day, youâd never put a label on what you were. youâd have moments. many moments where it crossed that line but you still were nervous for what that actually meant.
but here you were today. a jyp company game show, pretty much. and you were buzzing.
you, nayeon, jihyo and jeongyeon had been put forward for the event, knowing how competitive you all were.
you arrived at the filming location, collecting your little apron with âTWICEâ written across the front, pulling it over your outfit, which was matching with the girls.
as you walked out into the main area, you were met with all the other groups you see on a day to day basis in the company.
the producer explained things briefly to you all, as you stood and listened, waiting for the games to officially begin. which is when he directed all of the older groups and bands back inside to wait for their entrance, starting with the juniors first.
you and the girls sat on a row of chairs, watching the screen as each group moved out into the grass to one of their songs.
youâd been making eye contact with chan, from where you were sat the whole time. trying to steal a glance at the boy whenever you could, sometimes being caught by him, or worse his members; which was embarrassing for you as they loved teasing the pair of you.
they were called to leave the room, being the next group on the veterans line. the tv broadcasting as they came out, jeongin sat on changbin and chans shoulders as hyunjin walked in front of them.
you laughed, looking at the chaotic group formation, as they moved forward to âCEREMONYâ. eventually, the two dropped jeongin and continued making their way forward.
it sounded so cringe, but you were practically cheesing at chan. the way he moved about as he made his way to their line.
âwe get it, you love him,â nayeon teased, hitting your leg lightly.
âyah! can we not?â you laughed, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face.
the other girls joined in teasing you as you guys stood up, ready to move outside.
âletâs welcome twice!â the producer announce, as the younger groups cheered, âmusic please!â
you had chosen to walk out to âTWICE SONGâ in honour of your other girls who couldnât make it.
the four of you skipped out, jeongyeon holding the flag, as you all posed on the beat. a much more put together entrance than the other groups if you say so yourself. you continued to skip forward, lip syncing to the song with the girls.
chan watched as you moved forward, having fun with a wide smile of your face. he couldnât take his eyes off you. you were just you in this moment. fun and free, his favourite version of you. he watched as you guided nayeon the right way, as she began to stray.
you arrived infront of the boys, giving a grin to chan, who was now stood directly behind you.
âwait! DAY6 debuted before TWICE?â the producer asked in shock looking over at the four of you.
âby a month!â you, jihyo and nayeon immediately responded.
he laughed it off and continued introducing the remaining groups and jyp himself.
which then swiftly led you into the âwarm upâ as he called it. he called up the trainees who have gone âabove and beyondâ, in this context being called the scouts. jihyo being one of them, who you cheered for supportively.
âyoungK why do you think you were called up here?â
âweâre not doing the basic dance moves, are we?â he asked in response.
to which the producer immediately answered, with a yes. the crowd laughed, but mixed with a few gasps from the veteran groups who hadnât done the dance in years.
hyunjin turned to your group, âdid you do it like this?â he asked you all, moving his arms.
âwe did it like this,â you responded, showing him a similar move. the other members of his group now getting involved.
âitâs a little different,â chan said, âitâs changed over time,â he added.
âi just remember a move like this,â you then demonstrated it, chan smiling and laughing at your little movement.
âyeah, there was,â
the producer sat down and watched the groups discuss. when nayeon spoke up and pointed at chan. âheâs good at this!â
chan immediately shook his head no, and waved his hand back and fourth. âbangchan remembers everything!â changbin yelled from behind him.
which stirred everyoneâs voices, all coming together to agree. jihyo called him up, as chan reluctantly gave into his noona, moving forward.
chan stood on the stage, as the producer asked whether he was a cadet. after their conversation died down, changbin called out from the crowd. âyah! if chan is up there, y/n needs to be too! they do everything together!â
you laughed and shook your head, knowing you have no clue what the dance was at all.
your girls behind you immediately started cheering and pushing you up, and being their younger, you of course had to listen.
you moved up onto the stage, hands on your face, knowing you were about to embarrass yourself. you stood next to chan, grinning from ear to ear, as well as him. chan knew you had no clue what the dance was.
after all of the so called cadets were called up to the stage. the dance slowly began.
the whole time you looked to the side, eyeing the movements of chan, but clearly failing miserably, as you just laughed, continuing to mess the arms and legs up.
it was very clear you were copying chan, eyes not leaving him, but maybe that wasnât the only reason.
eventually, chan began leading the whole group. speaking out loud with counts, as the crowd began praising him for his memory.
the crowd applauded as it came to an end, the embarrassment of messing it up so bad still wearing you in, as you laughed behind your hands.
âbut seeing this now, i saw a few others breaking the tradition,â the producer spoke out, as jyp looked at all of his idols. âiâll call the ones who need retraining. dowoon, changbin, i.n and y/n! please come forward!â
chan looked between you and his members. but you just continued laughing knowing the producer wasnât wrong. you looked a mess doing the dance.
your girls also just laughed at the embarrassment on your face. jihyo stepping aside on the stage.
âsorry, but doesnât stray kids dance?â the producer asked. âthatâs not the stray kids, i know!â everyone laughed, the two boys laughing.
âthey should be able to handle double or even quadruple speed, right?â
your eyes widened in shock, knowing you definitely could not. everyone however cheered yes.
âplay it at double speed, please!â
the music turned on and you burst out laughing at the speed. changbin trying his best to find a suitable tempo.
you continued to do the dance moves, still eyeing chan who was marking it slightly in the corner for you, as he knew you were clueless.
as the song ended you were congratulated and clapped off stage, making better progress than the last run through.
ânext is song relay!â the game was announced, where each group would be called up to the stage randomly to perform one of their performances.
twice was eventually called up. âwhat is love?â being the song that played. you ran up to the stage with the others following behind you, moving into position.
as it moved around to the chorus, the crowd joined in, chanting along with the words.
the groups performance was clean. surprisingly no messing up from any of you, especially you, who tends to forget choreography. you bowed and moved off stage, as the audience cheered, chan chanting your name slightly.
after a few more rounds stray kids were called up with âMANIACâ. and it didnât take long for the group to slightly mess up, hyunjin walking around cluelessly, chan then messing up as he looked around at the others.
you grabbed onto nayeon as you pointed and laughed at the boys, who were clearly embarrassed.
chan moved off of the stage and made his way over, slightly pushing you sarcastically in response, but you just pushed him back, giving him a toothy grin as you laughed at him once more.
he rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face said more than anything.
â SUMMARY. In which Y/N didnât expect to hook-up with her bias, and Hyunjin didnât expect to fall in love with her.
â PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
â GENRE. idol!hyunjin x fem!reader
â WC. 6.7k+
â WARNINGS/OTHER. cursing ; angst ; hyunjinâs lowkey an idiot (& also a stalker) ; lots of mutual pinning ; mentions of sex
NOTE. yâall are either going to hate me or love me for this one. either way, looking forward to hearing your thoughts <33
á° SIX | SERIES M.LIST
KyĆka suigetsu (Japanese) â an idiom with the literal translation of âflower in the mirror and a moon in the water.â It references something which is visible and cannot be touched as well as the profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words
Florence feels much softer in the rain. Hyunjin notices that almost immediately during his first day in the city.
The crowd outside had diminished significantly once the first downpour hit, right as Hyunjin stepped foot into the third art museum of the day. Heâd like to say that the rain is the reason heâd been pushed into yet another gallery tucked along a narrow side street near the river, but thatâs far from the truth. Especially when he finds himself in a particular exhibit that centers around emotional realism and reinterpretations of Renaissance intimacy. Very pretentious, very dramaticâexactly the kind of thing Hyunjin likes.
Art just feels easier right nowâsafer. And the weather outside further proves that point.
He moves slowly through the rooms, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants while soft instrumental music plays overhead. There arenât many people here, surprisingly, despite a few tourists and a few groups of what appears to be university students sketching sculptures in their notebooks. Hyunjin figured that once the rain hit people would be pouring in here to escape it, but he was thankfully proven wrong. He prefers it this way.
He walks further down, his shoes lightly tapping against the floor, pausing at a massive oil painting. Itâs depicting a man kneeling waist-deep in dark water beneath a giant golden sky. His eyes study it for a moment before drifting down to read the plaque, mouthing out the words salvation through suffering to himself. His eyes flicker back up to the painting, head tilting slightly as he traces every single detail before deciding that it seems just a tad bit dramatic. In his professional opinion, (which should be taken with a grain of salt), people tend to romanticize suffering too much. If someone is drowning, maybe they should be helped instead of allowing it to happen and calling it beautiful.
But thatâs just his opinion.
He snaps a quick picture of it, sending it to the group chat before slowly walking into another room. More oil paintings line the walls in massive frames, all revolving around grief, isolation, longingâhuman suffering presented beautifully enough that has something pulling deep in his chest. He stays where he is for a second longer, studying each piece thoughtfully until his eyes drift down to focus on the reflection staring back at him through the glass protecting the painting. And although the reflection staring back at him appears familiar, thereâs something distant there.
Hyunjin barely recognizes himself at times. Heâs not the same guy he once was when they first debuted, full of passion and determination and life. As the years went on, the weight of everything got heavier on his shoulders, and he was stuck in a constant loop of exhaustion. Itâs not that he hates his jobâhe loves his fans, the members, and performing more than anything. But he just hates that he has to feel so miserable sometimes when heâs supposed to be doing something he loves.
Even now, thereâs some moments where he catches himself feeling strangely disconnected from the version of him everyone knows. Heâs heard it allâthe idol, the visual, the beautiful dramatic one. People think they know him because they constantly consume bits and pieces of him on a screen, but thatâs exactly thatâthey think.
He doesnât even remember the last time heâs went live. He used to be more active, going on random Instagram lives and sending numerous texts and pictures off Bubble. But lately, he hasnât had the energy too. It feels performative, in a way, but everything is performative in his world.
He just wishes he could stop being what people want him to be and not care what people say about it.
Most days, he feels like a collection of carefully selected fragments pretending to be an actual person. Therapy helps. Medicine helps. Having a good support system helps. But sometimes, itâs not enough, and he needs to do things for himself to help clear his head, like take a however month long hiatus and do a solo trip to Italy.
Maybe thatâs why he likes Italy so much. Maybe thatâs why he likes art galleries so much. Nobody here expects anything from him.
Hyunjin tears his gaze away from his reflection, stuffing his hands back into his pants pocket before heading towards the next room. This one focuses on fractured intimacy. Thereâs paintings of lovers facing opposite directions, hands nearly touching but never quite reaching, bodies close physically but emotionally miles apart. He feels it instantly because, unfortunately, he understood this kind of distance too well.
He moves on before the feeling settles too deeply.
Hyunjin drifts through the next room half-focused, his thoughts scattered all over the place. One second heâs thinking about sketching, another second heâs thinking about finding another small restaurant near the river tonight. Heâs thinking about anything, desperately trying to distract himself from the heavy feeling in his chest. Heâs thinking about anything, until he can no longer think at all.
His entire body comes to an abrupt stop, like something inside him physically locks. The room suddenly feels colder, the weight on his shoulders grows heavier, and he feels like he might pass out on this sleek marble flooring.
At the far end of the gallery stands a woman beneath soft overhead lighting. Sheâs wearing a yellow dress with a cream-colored raincoat, dark curls falling over one shoulder, hands gripping onto the strap of her purse as she studies a painting in front of her.
For one second, Hyunjinâs brain refuses to process what heâs seeing, not because he doesnât recognize her, but because he does instantly. In fact, every nerve ending in his entire body recognizes her before logic can even catch up with him.
No. Thereâs absolutely no way that she is standing a few steps away from him right now, at an art gallery in Italy. There is absolutely no way.
His brain scrambles for even more explanations, as he mentally talks himself out of a panic attack that may or may not be brewing. Lots of people have curly hair and a round face. Lots of people give off the exact same aura. He just drank too much wine at lunch, and thatâs why heâs currently hallucinating her standing in front of him. Yeah, that must be it.
Only it isnât. Because before he could even blink, she had shifted just slightly, now giving him a perfect view of her face, confirming what he already knew was true.
Y/N.
Somehow, she looks exactly the same, yet completely different all at the same time. Her hair is shorter than he remembers, darker than he remembers, falling down to her shoulders. Sheâs wearing minimal makeup, yet sheâs still naturally so pretty, staring at the painting in awe. Gold rings line her fingers, catching the light in the room. She looks more mature, more settled into herself, and Hyunjin is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that heâs currently ogling at a very much real Y/N in the middle of a very much real art gallery full of very much real people.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
His heartbeat slams violently against his ribcage, and he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesnât actually pass out. He closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head back and forth before opening them again, his eyes widening once he realizes that heâs not hallucinating and sheâs still painfully real, standing in front of him again after four fucking years.
And god, sheâs still beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on him before he can even emotionally defend himself.
He feels rooted to his spot, gawking, staring, still trying not to pass out. She doesnât move for a second, and Hyunjin thinks he has to be hallucinating her, only for her to shift a little closer towards where heâs standing, and then reality comes back.
A quiet shriek escapes his mouth as he instantly steps behind one of the marble columns near him, shielding his view from her. He stands there for a second, breathing heavy, his stomach flipping so hard that it actually makes him dizzy.
This is insane. Actually insane. Itâs been four yearsâfour years of zero contact, of living lives in two completely different worlds, and somehow, seeing her for less than twenty seconds already feels catastrophic to his nervous system.
He pushes his back against the column, shifting himself so heâs more hidden. He feels calmer now that he canât see her anymore, but that only lasts for five seconds before heâs peaking around the column again just to see that sheâs still there. Sheâs still there, still looking at paintings, still completely unaware sheâs currently ruining his emotional stability from thirty feet away.
Hyunjin knows he should leave. He should just turn around, pretend he didnât even see her, and leave. That would be the normal thing to do, the healthy thing to do. But instead, he stays frozen exactly where he is, watching her, noticing every single movement and detail about her, just like he did when he saw her for the first time four years ago.
He notices the way she shifts her weight while sheâs thinking. He notices the tiny line appearing between her brows while reading the plaque beside the painting. He notices the absentminded way she tucks her curls behind her ear. He notices everythingâand it feels so unfair.
How can four years disappear instantly like that? How can his body remember someone this much after so much time apart?
He remembers her so vividly that itâs actually insane. He remembers her voice, her scent, her smile. He remembers how calm he felt around her, how right it felt being near her. He remembers how she sounded calling out his name as he made her cum on his cock.
His chest aches suddenly. Heâs torn between a constant battle of leaving or following her until he may or may not develop the confidence to actually approach her. His mind screams at him to leave, the red flags going off in his head. But Hyunjin had never listened to himself in the first place, so why would he do that now?
He leans his head over to catch another glimpse of her, his eyes widening as he sees her walking into the next room. Panic shoots through him instantly, and before he could even blink, heâs already following her, hiding behind another large column.
He peaks over, noticing that she stops before another enormous painting. He doesnât even bother to look at which one, his interest in all the art surrounding him diminishing instantly. Heâs way too distracted by the fact that Y/N is real, standing ten feet away, breathing the same air as him for the first time in years.
His heart pounds harder the longer he keeps watching her. He should walk up to her and say something, and not keep hiding behind European architecture like a fucking stalker. He should, but he canât.
What if she feels nothing for him now? What if she doesnât want anything to do with him? What if she rejects him?
He canât do it. He just canât.
A large group of tourists suddenly moves in front of him, blocking his view from her completely. Hyunjin shifts immediately, trying to keep her in sight, feeling a surge of panic flow through his body as he searches the room. It feels like forever when everything finally clears, his shoulders relaxing instantly. Yet that didnât last long, as he desperately tried to find her, only to realize that sheâs gone.
âNo, no, no,â He mumbles to himself like an insane person, moving quickly into the adjoining room, his eyes scanning faces in panicked desperation, hoping one of them was hers.
He moves into another hallway. Nothing. He begins circling rooms twice. Nothing.
He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling his stomach drop. Somehow, losing sight of her after finding her again feels devastating already, and it makes him feel insane. Maybe if he would stop being a fucking coward all the time and actually went up to talk to her whenever he first saw her, he wouldnât be here searching the gallery pretending he isnât searching the gallery.
He had to have hallucinated her. There was no way that she disappeared that quickly, like she just disappeared into the walls like a fucking ghost. He definitely would have seen her from how quick he rushed into the nearby rooms looking like a mad-man. Heâs surprised they didnât kick him out.
Hyunjinâs face suddenly heats up in embarrassment. Why did he allow himself to act like that in public? At an art museum, of all places? Over a girl he fucked four years ago?
Except she wasnât just an insufficient fuck, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Sure, the sex was amazing, but that was also part of the problem. It was so amazing that itâs quite literally ruined everyone else for him, and part of him is bitter for that. Thereâs no denying how compatible they were sexually, but it was also emotionally. And thatâs whatâs been fucking with him the most.
Hyunjin runs his fingers through his hair again, taking a deep breath before pulling his phone out to text his driver heâs ready to leave. Normally, he would spend all day at an art museum, but right now he thinks he just needs to go back to his hotel and contemplate his entire life.
The rain falls steadily outside by the time he steps out of the museum. He didnât bring a coat today, didnât really think he would need one. But just like his emotions are all over the place, so is the weather here, apparently.
He spots his driver waiting for him, leaning against the car with an umbrella over his head. Hyunjin hurries over towards him, jogging through the rain, not even phased at how wet he seems to be getting. Honestly, itâs kind of nice, somewhat cooling his skin and helping his body calm down.
He gets into the back seat quietly. His clothes are sticking to his skin now, his hair falling in front of his forehead in damp waves. He combs it back once before slouching back in the seat, turning his head to watch the rain drops slowly falling down the window.
He tries not to think about her, he really tries. But his mind ends up going there anyway, replaying the scene over and over in his head like a broken record that just wonât stop playing.
She looked so beautiful. Her skin looked perfectly sun-kissed, eyes still so blue and hypnotizing, hair so pretty and soft. He couldnât see her body well from the raincoat she had on, but he just knew the pale yellow dress would be hugging her so perfectly and have him falling to his knees immediately.
Itâs wild how deeply she still affects him even after all this time apart. They spent one night together, yet it felt like he had known her his entire life. Maybe thatâs why it hurt so much when he had to let her go.
Hyunjin was always a private person, introverted at best. He always kept to himself, never opening up to anyone first unless he trusted them, which was why when he found himself opening up to Y/N, it terrified him.
It still terrifies him, because he knows if he could see her again, heâd fall in even deeper.
He tries to focus on the rain again. He distracts his mind by counting the raindrops on the window, making mental bets on which raindrop would fall firstâanything to prevent his mind from spiraling.
That doesnât last long, though. Because as soon as he steps into his hotel room and strips off his wet clothes, heâs already plopping down onto his bed with a dramatic groan before grabbing his phone.
Chan answers the call after two rings.
âWell, well. Florence finally bored you?â
âI think I hallucinated Y/N in an art gallery.â
The words came out so fast and so frantic that Hyunjin wonders for a second if Chan actually understood what he said in the first place. He bites his bottom lip softly, nervously tapping his fingers against his chest. The silence is so loud he pulls his phone away just to make sure he didnât accidentally hang up.
âWell, good evening to you, too.â
Hyunjin rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling, âIâm serious. Iâm starting to go insane because I keep thinking about it.â
âLike, you actually saw her?â
âI mean, I think so,â Hyunjin replies quickly, another groan falling from his lips as he pinches his temple with his fingers, âI donât know if I actually did or not. Thatâs whatâs frustrating me.â
Chan immediately starts laughing, and Hyunjin narrows his eyes even though he canât see him, âStop laughing at me! Iâm literally spiraling right now and youâre making fun of me!â
âIâm not making fun of you, Hyun,â Chan replies through another fit of laughter, much quieter this time, âIt just sounds a little crazy, is all. Like what do you mean you think you saw her? Walk me through it.â
Hyunjin drags a hand down his face. This is giving him a headache already. âI was looking at paintings.â
âMhm.â
âAnd then I saw this girl.â
âIncredible start.â
âShe turned around, and I swear to fuck it was her,â He breathes out, feeling his heart race a little just thinking about it again, âNow that I think about it more, Iâm certain it was her. And holy fuck, she was beautiful. I feel like Iâm losing my mind right now.â
Chan exhales slowly through the phone, and Hyunjin feels a little embarrassed at what he just said, but whatever. He canât take it back now. âThatâs⊠strange.â He replies after a few more seconds of Hyunjin mentally freaking out, only adding on to that feeling.
âStrange?â He laughs incredulously, âChan, I literally forgot how to breathe for a second. Iâm still trying to catch my breath.â
âOkay, so you saw Y/N,â Chan spoke, voice softer, âThen what? You went and talked to her?â
âWell⊠not exactly,â He replies, already dreading this conversation because he knows Chan wonât be able to live this part down, âI kind of hid behind the giant columns and watched her from afar. And then I kind of followed her around the gallery. Kind of.â
Chan bursts out into laughter again, the sound so loud that it had him wincing as he pulled the phone away from his ear. âHyunjin⊠you fucking idiot! Please tell me you did not just stalk this poor girl in a contemporary art gallery.â
âI panicked!â He defends himself, poorly, might he add, as the laughter on the other end only seems to be getting much worse, âIâm not good at this shit, okay?! She was looking at art so prettily! Thatâs intimidating!â
âThatâs the most pretentious thing youâve ever said.â
Hyunjin falls back onto the pillows behind his head with a loud groan, âI think something is deeply wrong with me.â
âYeah,â Chan agrees quickly through another chuckle, causing him to glare at the screen, because why is he agreeing with him? âWe established that years ago, unfortunately.â
Despite himself, Hyunjin laughs weakly, his eyes trailing over towards the rain-streaked windows. Part of him had always secretly wondered whether she carried their ending around the same way he did. Maybe she didnâtâmaybe she healed properly while he kept romanizing unfinished things.
I guess heâd never know that because he couldnât bring himself to go talk to her.
âShe looked really good,â He admits quietly, watching the rain patter softly against the window, âShe looked⊠so pretty. Just like I always remembered.â
Chan hums knowingly, âYouâre an idiot. And youâre screwed.â
âI know.â
He listens to the rain for another second before a thought suddenly comes to mind. He sits up immediately, âWait.â
Chan sounds suspicious already, âWhat?â
âYou still talk to Kat.â
Heâs quiet on the line, and Hyunjin hates how he can feel his heart beating even louder against his chest. âI do,â He drawls the word out, already seeming to know where this is going.
âAsk her if Y/Nâs in Italy.â
More silence. And thenâ
âOh my god.â
Heâs laughing again, and Hyunjin grunts into the phone in annoyance, running another hand through his hair, âChan, Iâm serious! Text her right now and ask her if sheâs in Italy.â
âHyun, you do realize how insane youâre acting right now, right?â Chan chuckles in disbelief, âYou havenât seen this girl in four years and now youâre spiraling in an Italian luxury hotel because you think you saw her admiring paintings. You sound lovesick.â
Hyunjin presses both hands over his eyes, âHyung, please. When do I ever ask you for favors?â
âAll the fucking time, actually.â
âPlease!â
Chan sighs dramatically over the line, âFine. This is humiliating for you, you know that?â
âI know.â
âYou couldâve just spoken to her and not stalked her like a fucking creep.â
âI know,â He swallows thickly, âYou donât understand.â
âNo, I understand perfectly, actually. Youâre terrified.â
That shuts Hyunjin up instantly. Because unfortunately, itâs true.
Heâs terrified of rejection. Heâs terrified of indifference. Heâs terrified of discovering heâs carried this thing around for years only to realize she let it go completely.
And where would that lead him?
Chan sighs again after a few moments, âIâm texting her right now, okay?â
Relief floods through him embarrassingly fast, âYouâre the best, Channie baby.â
âEw, donât call me that.â
Hyunjin laughs quietly, a giddy feeling rising in his body once he hears Chan typing on his phone over the line. Heâs 99.9% sure she was Y/N, but having a verbal confirmation from her best friend would just be the icing on top of the fucking cake. If he gets confirmation that sheâs actually in Italy, maybe he wonât feel so insane about it.
Another idea hits him all of a sudden, and heâs putting Chan on speaker before swiping out of the call, his fingers working fast to click on the Instagram app. Heâs clicking on the search bar before he can think any better of it, typing in a username that he remembers from years ago when he first found her account, only hoping she didnât change it.
His eyes light up instantly once he realizes she didnât. And then heâs clicking on her profile.
âWhat are you doing?â Chanâs voice startles him for a second.
âNothing.â He replies quickly, guiltily. His eyes widen once he sees her first post, and he wastes no time in clicking on the picture so he can see it better.
He heart falls into his ass once he sees it.
âOh shit,â He breaths out, gawking at her most recent photo from a day ago. Itâs a thread, a collection of ten pictures, the first picture being of her smiling in front of Brunelleschiâs Duomo.
âOh, shit,â He says again, because what else can he say?
âOh my god,â Chan says knowingly, âAre you stalking her right now? Seriously?â
âItâs public information,â He defends himself weakly, swiping through the rest of the post. Pasta, wine, a picture of a stray cat resting on a bench, another selfie. He stares at that one a little longer, unable to stop himself.
God, sheâs so fucking beautiful. His heart hurts.
âThatâs exactly what stalkers say.â Chanâs voice interrupts his thoughts, and he ignores him, quickly exiting out of that post to glance at the rest of her profile.
Coffee shops, books, Kat, (lots of Kat), the gym, weddings, yet thereâs no engagement posts or anything that hints that she has a significant other. He hates how relieved he is from that.
Something about seeing pieces of her life condensed quietly into photographs makes his chest ache. She kept existing this entire time, but somehow, he never let himself imagine it clearly.
Heâs clicking on one of her highlight reels she posted titled âItaly đźđčâ before he can stop himself. And his heart is falling into his ass once again.
The first one is of a window from a coffee shop while the rain pours outside. The second is of a piece of artwork from a different gallery he didnât recognize. And the third⊠the third is a mirror picture she took of herself, wearing the exact same outfit he just saw her in. Her coat wasnât on, showing off her curves so perfectly, the dress hugging her just right. It looked so pretty against her skin, her smile sending shivers down his entire body.
Holy fuck.
âHoly shit,â He covers his mouth with his hand, the raining pouring down harder now.
âWhat now?â
âSheâs here,â He strains out, his heartbeat climbing, âShe is literally here. In Florence.â
âYep, she is.â He replies, but before Hyunjin can ask what he means by that tone, his phone is binging with a text from Chan. Itâs a screenshot of a string of texts. He opens it quickly.
Chan: Random question
Chan: Is Y/N in Italy rn?
Kat: why
Chan: Hyunjin thinks he saw her and now heâs acting mentally unstable
Kat: OH MY GOD
Kat: WAIT, ACTUALLY????
Chan: Yep. He hid behind a column, apparently. Embarrassing đł
Hyunjin groans immediately, âSeriously?! Why would you tell her that?!â
âBecause it was funny.â
âIt was not! Youâre evil!â
âIâm correct.â
Another screenshot comes through, and Hyunjin mentally prepares himself before he opens it.
Kat: sheâs in florence, rn
Kat: sheâs been going to art galleries all week too, lol
Chan: That is horrifyingly romantic
Kat: donât encourage him
Hyunjinâs stomach flips again. He really could run into her again. The possibility alone sends nervous energy rushing through him immediately, but things are different now. Now, heâs older, more established, with more freedom to do what he pleases. For the first time in his career, choosing someone wouldnât automatically be impossible. And somehow, the universe drops Y/N directly into Florence while heâs finally at a point in his life where he maybe can choose her properly.
The timing feels cruel. Or maybe hopeful. He genuinely canât tell.
âYouâre being quiet.â
Hyunjin stares at her profile again, âIâm just⊠processing. I canât believe sheâs actually here.â
âYeah,â Chan hums in response, âKat said sheâs there for another week.â
Hyunjin blinks, âAnother week?â
He hears Chan curse silently over the line, and his eyes narrow, âIt seems you know entirely too much information.â
âI do not.â His response is quick.
âYou literally know her travel itinerary.â
âOkay, now thatâs a little dramatic. Letâs simmer down.â
Hyunjin lets out a quiet scoff, pointing at the phone accusingly, âYou and Kat are scheming, arenât you?â
âWe are absolutely not.â Again, another quick reply.
âI think youâre full of shit. Shitty shit shit.â
Chan sighs dramatically, and Hyunjin can just see his eyes rolling, âOoookay. Maybe Kat mentioned she was doing a solo trip to Italy months ago.â
âMonths ago,â He repeats the words, nodding his head slowly, âAnd then, somehow, I end up in Italy at the same exact time?â
âWell, when you put it that wayâŠâ
Hyunjin flops backward onto the bed, groaning dramatically, âI hate all of you. Especially you.â
âNo you donât.â
Unfortunately, thatâs true.
His phone pings again with yet another screenshot. He sighs, knowing heâs about to be embarrassed again, but opening it anyway.
Kat: wait, does he like her???
Chan: Catastrophically so
Kat: omg I KNEW IT
Chan: Heâs currently staring at her Instagram profile in silence like a widow in a period drama
Kat: donât let him scare her, omg
Chan: Too late, he already hid behind a column
âYou are unbelievable!â Hyunjin chokes out, completely mortified.
This is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet, underneath all the teasing and embarrassment and panic, hope starts blooming somewhere dangerous inside him. For the first time in years, Y/N doesnât feel unreachable anymore, and he wants nothing more than to finally grab ahold of her.
His thumb hovers over the message button on her profile. He hesitates for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. The rain falls even harder outside, and heâs distracted by the sound for a split second before his thumb inches closer.
âChan?â
âYeah?â His reply is instant. He hesitates again, but only for a second.
âIf I message her right now⊠is that insane?â
âMaybe,â He replies after a few seconds, and Hyunjin swallows thickly, âDo you want my actual opinion?â
Hyunjin doesnât answer. The silence is answer enough.
âYouâre in Italy to take a break from everything. Youâre there to do things you enjoy, escape reality for a bit, clear your head, rest. Youâre there to take care of yourself,â He speaks slowly, softly. The room grows very still around him, save for the relaxing sound of the rain thatâs doing very little in quieting down his head right now.
Hyunjin swallows thickly, his eyes focused on Y/Nâs smiling face illuminating quietly on his phone screen, his thumb still hovering.
âBut, I think if you leave Italy without trying to talk to her, youâre going to regret it for the rest of your life. You wanted to choose her years ago,â Chan exhales softly through the speaker, his fingers twitching in front of him, âAnd now, nobodyâs stopping you except for yourself.â
The bathwater has gone lukewarm, but Y/N still doesnât move.
Florence at night still feels like itâs holding its breath outside her hotel window. The rain is still tapping lightly against the glass, pulling her more into a euphoric calm that sheâs been longing to experience for a while now. Itâs quieter than New York in a way that almost feels wrong, like the world forgot to keep moving.
Three days ago, she arrived in Italy alone. Normally traveling alone in a foreign country would terrify her, but Italy has always been on her bucket list and she was in desperate need of a long break. And by long break, she means an entire summer off she barely knew how to use in the first placeâan entire summer off from fluorescent ceilings, trauma alerts, and the constant low hum of the ER.
She had told herself this trip was about rest, but rest is a loose concept when your entire nervous system has been wired to anticipate chaos. Even now, immersed in bath water with a shit ton of lavender scented bubbles, her body still feels half-alert, like sheâs just waiting on someone to call another code. Yet, instead, the only thing calling her right now is her memory.
And Hyunjin. Of course.
Y/N lets out a sigh, leaning her head back against the porcelain behind her. She hadnât meant to think about him this much in Florence, but museums do that to her. Thereâs just too much beauty in one place, and it all leads back to him.
Earlier today, she stood in front of a Renaissance painting for an uncomfortably long time. Not because she was trying to understand the meaning behind the painting, but because it made her think of him. She could picture him standing there, his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, his head tilted to the side as he studied every single detail. She knew he loved art, and he loved to create his own. And every time he would post one of his works on social media, it had her heart warming instantly.
He was so talented, in every way, shape, and form.
At first, she used to look forward to his posts, even having her notifications on so it would alert her whenever he posted. Seems excessive and a little stalker ish, she knows, but she was holding on to every little thing about him, desperate to connect with him, in some way. Even if that was through his artwork he posted on social media for millions of people to see.
She admits she did that for a few months before convincing herself that it was unhealthy behavior. Constantly pinning after an idol who was completely unattainable was unhealthy behavior. And she had to stop it before she buried herself deep into a flunk sheâd never get out of.
She stopped listening to Stray Kids. She stopped outwardly supporting them. She stopped following them on all social media, and even canceled her Bubble subscription. It was all just a constant reminder of what she had with him, which was one, insignificant night where she came around his cock twice and then laid in bed with him afterwards like it meant everything.
And it did mean everything. It still means everything, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself otherwise. That was the problem with Hyunjin. He made everything feel like it mattered more than it shouldâeven silence, even absence.
Y/N shifts slightly in the bath, staring at the condensation slowly sliding down the glass. Itâs been four years since that night she spent with him, four years since Hyunjin became real and not a fantasy version of a man she projected meaning ontoâjust him.
She still remembers thinking this canât actually be happening. Even now, she canât believe it had actually happened. Because even then, she had been a fan, a Stayâthe kind that knew too many music video details and had once argued online about dance formations like it mattered personally.
Hyunjin had been her ult bias. The word feels childish now, but it was true then. She had known his face before she knew his voice, known his stage presence before she knew how softly he spoke when he wasnât performing. And then somehow, he had ended up in her world, in her bed, fucking her like he owned her just to tell her he couldnât choose her.
She didnât expect him to. But that doesnât mean she didnât want him to.
Y/N closes her eyes in the bath, sighing softly. It had messed with her for a while, but she eventually moved on, where she learned to separate emotion from action so effectively that sometimes she worries she might never fully turn it off.
It worked, mostly, but the human brain is not a system that respects change. Hyunjin didnât stay in the past like she expected him to. He stayed in the quiet moments between shifts, on nights when she got home too late and the apartment felt too big, on subway rides when she had nothing else to think about, and stupidly enough, when someone in passing mentioned k-pop.
Thatâs when it came back. And even now, lying in a bubble bath in Italy, she finds herself thinking about him again.
Her phone buzzing on the toilet seat beside her makes her jump, knocking her out of her thoughts. She wipes her hands off with the towel hanging up beside her before leaning over, seeing that Kat was currently calling her. She smiles, answering the call and putting it on speakerphone before slouching back into the bathtub.
âHey.â
âThere she is!â Katâs voice booms through the phone, always so bright and cheery, âMy Italian girl. Professional eater of pastries.â
âI had one pastry today,â She rolls her eyes, shifting a little in the bath, the water sloshing around her lightly.
âYeah, key word, today. Tomorrow youâll probably have about five more.â
âI think youâre just jealous that youâre not getting any.â
âVery true,â She sighs. Y/N laughs softly, sinking deeper into the bath, the back of her head getting wet. âHow are you doing, my girl?â
âHm, kind of tired right now,â She admits softly, running her hands against her thighs, moving the bubbles around, âI walked like 20k steps today. My feet hurt so fucking bad.â
âIâm so glad Iâm not there to massage them for you. Canât bribe me with Taco Bell tonight.â
âI could fuck up ten cheesy roll-ups right now.â
Kat laughs, and Y/N lets herself relax into the sound, twirling the bubbles around with her fingers. Itâs quiet for a second after that, but the silence is comfortable. Itâs always comfortable with her. Kat is one of the few people who still makes her feel like her life isnât split into before and after versionsâeven if sheâs always known too much, even if sheâs always been suspiciously good at reading between lines Y/N never explicitly drew.
âSooo,â She drawls out suddenly, her tone shifting just slightly. Y/Nâs body reacts before her brain does, and she narrows her eyes at the phone still sitting on the toilet seat. That tone is never good.
âNo.â Y/N says immediately.
âI didnât even say anything yet!â She quickly defends herself.
âYou didnât have to.â
Kat laughs in disbelief, âYou always do that thing where you act like you can predict my thoughts.â
âBecause I can.â
Kat sighs on the phone, and Y/N knows thatâs whatever is about to come out of her mouth isnât going to be good. âIâve been texting Chan today,â She finally admits, and Y/N stills slightly.
âOoookay,â She replies, a little confused as to why sheâs telling her that, âYou talk to him most days. Why are you telling me that?â
Itâs quiet again, uncomfortable, this time. Too uncomfortable. Sheâs about to ask the same question again when Katâs voice stops her.
âHe mentioned something interesting.â
She tenses up even more, goosebumps forming on the back of her neck despite the warm water surrounding her, âOkay. Thatâs super vague and I donât like it.â She hates it, actually.
âHeâs in Europe.â She blurts out suddenly.
âWho?â Y/N asks, still confused and slightly on edge, because why is she making this so dramatic? âChan? Why are you telling me this, Kat?â
âNo, not Chan. Hyunjin.â
She blinks, wondering where this conversation is headed, âOkay. Thatâs nice for him. Europeâs big, you know?â
âI know geography, thank you very much,â Kat scoffs in fake annoyance, âHeâs in Italy. Hyunjin is in Italy.â
Y/N sits up completely in the bath now, the bubbles falling down her chest. Her heart felt like it was about shoot right out of her chest. Hyunjin is in Italy? At the same time that she is?
Kat has known everything without technically knowing anything for four straight years, which is honestly terrifying. Y/N had never explicitly said that her and Hyunjin had hooked up, partly because of the NDA, but mostly because whatever existed between them had always felt strangely sacred, like exposing too much would ruin it completely. But Kat had figured it out anyway, probably because Y/N had cried over one man exactly once in her entire life.
And unfortunately, it was very obvious which man that was.
âAnd?â She squeaks out, trying to appear unaffected when sheâs anything but.
âAnd nothing,â Kat replies lightly, but thereâs something underneath it now, âItâs just⊠very interesting timing, is all.â
âThis is ridiculous,â Y/N laughs out lightly, shaking her head as she forced herself to relax back into the bath.
âSure.â
âIâm not going to run into him, if thatâs what youâre getting at.â
âSure.â
âKat.â She calls her name, an edge to her voice. Her phone suddenly goes off again, and she sighs, leaning over to glance at the screen, fully expecting Kat to be screenshotting her a thread of texts or an article about it or something.
Her entire body goes rigid once her eyes land on the notification displayed across her lock screen.
Instagram. DM request. From hynjinnnn.
For a second, Y/N genuinely thinks sheâs imagining it. That exhaustion just finally caught up to her in Italy and her brain decided to hallucinate the one person capable of psychologically ruining her from a whole other continent.
Katâs still talking through the speaker on her phone, but Y/N isnât comprehending anything sheâs saying, hurriedly clicking on the notification and going straight to his profile, just to confirm itâs actually him.
It is. Of course it is. And somehow, it makes this ten times worse.
Her thumb hovers over the request, then she presses accept before she can overthink it too much. The first message loads instantly.
hyunjin: Hi.
It was simple, too simple. Y/N blinks at the message, once, twice, and then thereâs more popping up almost immediately.
hyunjin: This is either a terrible idea or fate, and I genuinely canât tell
hyunjin: I think I saw you at the Uffizi earlier today. And if it was really you⊠I donât think I can pretend this never happened anymore
Summary: Hyunjin breaks up with you after the company thinks your relationship is affecting his work. What he didn't know was that you were also gearing up to tell him something very important. But then swoops in two angels in disguise, helping you through the tough time, before it all blows over.
Youâre breaking up with me?â The words left your lips before your brain could catch up.
Your heart thundered against your ribcage, like it was desperate to escape what was unfolding right then. And your boyfriend of three years, Hyunjin, looked as miserable as you felt.
Hyunjin stood in front of you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders sagging. He wouldnât look at you - that was even worse.
âYes,â he whispered, voice so low it barely registered. âI'm so sorry.â
You take a step closer, his words not making any sense.
âYou have to? What the hell does that mean, Hyunjin? Did IâŠdid I do something? Did I hurt you-?â
His head snaps up, his eyes wide and glossy, horrified at the mere suggestion.
âNo! Of course not! Youâve never - God, Y/N, no. Itâs -â His words faltered, and he looked away again, his hands shaking as they grip his hoodie strings. âItâsâŠthey think itâs affecting me. My work.â
âWho? The company?â
âThey saidâŠâ He swallowed hard, the words clearly tearing him apart as he forced them out. âThey said if I donât end this, theyâll fire you. Theyâll make sure you never work in this industry again. And theyâllâŠruin it all for you...â
You stared at him, utterly speechless. This wasnât happening. This couldnât be happening.
âSo what? Youâre just going to do what they want? Throw away three years like it means nothing?â
âItâs not like that,â he said, his voice thick with emotion. âIâm trying to protect you.â
âProtect me? By breaking me?â You laughed bitterly, even though it felt more like choking.
You knew he wanted to reach for you, to pull you close like he always did when you were upset, but he didnât move.
âBaby, I donât have a choice. If I donât do this-â
You didn't stay to hear the rest. You took a step back before saying, âYouâre a coward,â
Hyunjinâs head snapped up like you slapped him, but you pressed on.
âYouâre letting them control you. Letting them decide what our love is worth. Youâre not even fighting for me.â
Hyunjinâs face crumpled, and for a second, you thought he would reconsider. But he didn't. He just looked really sad. And lost.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered. âIâm so sorry.â
âGoodbye, Hyunjin.â
And then you ran. You didnât look back. You couldn't. Because if you did, youâd fall apart completely, and you just couldnât afford that. Not with the tiny life growing inside you.
The three months that followed were hard, no doubt. But relatively less harder than you thought, considering the fact that the boys were on tour. You didn't have to see him everyday as you taught your heart to âunloveâ him. If such a thing could be done.
You had decided to go ahead with your pregnancy - bad call probably, because you obviously couldn't tell anyone that your baby was Hyunjinâs. Of course. So you'd have to come up with a creative lie to cover the gap - a non-existent boyfriend or a husband?
It was exhausting.
---
You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at your ultrasound scan result. The sight of your little bean on the screen earlier had brought tears to your eyes - happy bittersweet ones. But mostly, youâd felt so terribly lonely.
Moments like that were meant to be shared, werenât they? Your heart ached so much. So damn much. You sighed as you gazed at the little form in the black and white image.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Setting the report on the counter, you get the door. What you didn't expect was Felixâs sweet smiling face. You hadn't seen him or any of the boys since the break up (they'd left for the tour), so seeing Felix, your close friend, made you freeze.
âLix,â you said, your voice more tired than youâd like.
He immediately pulled you into a warm hug, and you had to control that strong urge to just weep.
âHey,â he said, squeezing you tightly. âI missed you! How have you been?â
âI'm alright. You guys had a good tour I heard,â You managed, stepping aside to let him in.
âIt was good,â He said with a smile, and held up a bag. âI brought you a little something from Australia.â
âLix, you didnât have to -â
âOh, hush. I do it all the time.â he said. âYou look... tiredâŠyou okay?â
âIâm fine,â you lied, waving him off.
âYou want me to get his stuff? I have it packed and ready.â You said, wanting to get that out of the way as soon as possible.
âYeah,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. â Is that okay?â
Your stomach twisted unpleasantly, but you nodded and said, âYeah, of course. Let me grab it.â
He followed you into the house, and as you went into the bedroom to get Hyunjinâs things, Felix walked into the kitchen to put the things he got for you away.
When you returned with the bag, however, you saw Felix in the kitchen, uncharacteristically quiet. You walked in and completely froze in the doorway.
Felix stood by the counter, holding your ultrasound result, and his usually bright expression was completely blank, his eyes glued black and white image.
âLixâŠâ you said softly, panic rising in your chest.
âY/N,â he says, his voice eerily calm, âwhat is this?â
You didnât answer, your hands trembling as you clutched the bag of Hyunjinâs things. Tears pricked your eyes, and you knew there was no use pretending or coming up with a lie.
âPlease tell me this is not what I think it is.â he said, his voice wavering as he turned to face you with the paper in his hand.
Your silence spoke louder than words. Tears spilled over, and you quickly wiped at them, trying to keep it together. But it was of no use - Felix took one look at your face and let the paper fall onto the counter.
âOh my God.â His voice cracked as he crossed the room in two giant strides, pulling you into a tight hug.
His arms wrapped around you like a safety net, holding you together.
âY/N, please don't tell me Hyunjin knocked you up and then broke up with you. Tell me Iâm hallucinating. Please.â
You laughed weakly through your tears, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.
âHe didn't know, Lix. He didn't know-â You whispered and Felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your shoulders.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to form words but couldn't. Finally, he let out a strangled laugh.
âHe doesnât know?!â He shook his head, his freckles standing out against his flushed skin. âAre you kidding me, Y/N? Youâre telling me that man broke up with you because he wanted to protect you, and the entire time, youâve been carrying his baby?â
âI was going to tell him, Lix, I was. That's why I went to meet him, but didn't give me a chance to say anythingâŠhe justâŠhe just broke up with me!â you cried, wiping your face. âWhat was I supposed to do? Tell him and ruin everything?â
âYes!â Felix shouted, throwing his hands in the air. âYes, sweetheart, youâre supposed to tell him! He deserves to know. This is big, like life changing big!â
You shook your head, your voice trembling as you said, âLix, you donât understand. This is about his career, his dreams. Heâs worked so hard to get where he is, and I wonât be the reason he loses it all.â
Felix stared at you, his face a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak.
âY/N,â he said softly. âYou canât do this alone.â
âI have to,â you whispered, looking down at the floor. âI will.â
âYes, you do.â His voice was firm, his hands gently cupping your cheeks and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. âBut don't have to. Iâm here. Whatever you need, anything at all, youâve got me. Youâre not allowed to say no, okay?â
Your breath hitched, the warmth of his hands and the sincerity in his voice had you crumblung all over again. âLixâŠâ
âI mean it,â he said, his eyes shining with determination. âYouâre not doing this alone. I donât care what it takes. Weâre going to figure this out. Together.â
You nodded, sniffling as he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. âThank you.â
Felix didnât say anything to Hyunjin. True to his word, he kept his mouth shut, but the secret was eating him alive to say the least. The man had gone full protective mode - literally adopting you, and by extension, your unborn child, completely.
And his possessiveness manifested in the most Felix way possible: constant texting. Constant.
Also, he changed your contact name to George. Why? Because no ones gonna get suspicious about a George he's talking to 24*7, right?
---
7:32 am
Felix: Good morning, sunshine! Have you eaten yet? If not, DO IT NOW. Donât argue with me.
Felix: I will come over if you don't obey me, George!
You: Felix, itâs 7 in the morning. I just woke up. Also, who's George?
Felix: Youâre George. Thatâs your name now. Itâs safer this way.
Felix: And donât dodge the question: HAVE YOU EATEN???
You: I literally just rolled out of bed, Felix. Give me a second to breathe.
Felix: No time to breathe, go FEED THE BABY.
You: This baby isnât even hungry yet. Can you chill?
Felix: Fine. But just so you know, I won't hesitate from force-feeding you myself.
---
12:45 PM
Felix: Hey, did you go to your appointment today?
You: Yes, I went.
Felix: Pics or it didnât happen.
You: Iâm not sending you pictures of me at the doctorâs office, Lix
Felix: Why not? What if I need to fight the doctor? I need evidence.
You: Why would you need to fight my doctor?
Felix: I dunno, what if they're bad at their job? Iâm not taking chances, George.
You: Please stop calling me George.
Felix: It's your name.
---
7:48 PM
Felix: Are you home? Did you eat dinner? Did you lock your doors?
You: Oh my God, Felix, can you give me a second to exist without you breathing down my neck?
Felix: No. Iâm invested now.
You: Why are you like this?
Felix: Because my best friend knocked you up and then left you, and now I feel morally obligated to act like your baby daddy by proxy.
You: Please donât say that again. Ever.
Felix: Too late. Also, howâs George Jr.?
You: Felix, we are NOT naming this baby George Jr.
Felix: Why not? Itâs a great name.
You: Iâm blocking you.
Felix: No, youâre not.
---
Hyunjin on the other hand was completely unaware of everything that was happening around him. He was completely shut off, pouring his entire self into practice and his work outs.
He missed you. He missed you so damn much. He would randomly take a walk in the building, hoping he'd get a glimpse of you. But seriously, you were nowhere to be seen.
Hyunjin was on his way to the practice room after a particularly unsuccessful attempt to run into you, when he heard the voices. He wasnât trying to eavesdrop, but the venom in their tone caught his attention.
It took him a minute to figure out that they were actually talking about you, and he couldn't help but feel that rage bubbling up inside him.
âSheâs gained so much weight lately,â one of the girls snickered. âI mean, have you seen her?â
The other girl laughed, shaking her head. âI donât know what happened to her. She used to be so put together, but now? Sheâs just⊠bloated and tired all the time.â
Hyunjinâs jaw clenched so hard it felt like his teeth might crack. How dare they?! He felt the overwhelming urge to whirl around and to let his emotions loose, to say something.
But of course Hyunjin couldnât do that. Not really. He was an idol - a carefully constructed image, a brand - and he's already sacrificed way too much for the sake of it. He couldnât afford to screw it all up now.
So instead, he swallowed his rage, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and started walking again. And then, as if it was a cruel joke, he saw you.
You were walking down the hallway, dressed in a dark-colored sweater, your hair tied back, wisps escaping to frame your face. You looked tired, yes. But, as always, to him, you looked absolutely beautiful.
But Hyunjin couldn't help but see that something was different. His eyes lingered a little too long on the soft curve of your body. Your face seemed rounder, your stride slightly slower, more careful.
His heart ached as he watched you pause at the corner, adjusting your bag before disappearing around the corner. He missed you so much it physically hurt. Shaking his head, Hyunjin turned and walked away, trying so hard to hold it all together.
He couldnât keep doing this to himself. He had to move on.
If only he knew that a mini Hyunjin was quite literally baking inside you, tucked away and growing strong under that sweater. If only he knew.
3:40 pm
Felix: How's the nausea?
You: I can't understand why it's called morning sickness if it's gonna last all day and trying to murder me
Felix: Donât worry, George, Iâm gonna make you the perfect meal. Zero vomit potential.
You: Omg
---
Meanwhile in Felixâs kitchen:
Felix was in deep. The counter was a disaster of herbs and half-cut veggies, and a pan bubbled ominously on the stove. His laptop sat precariously on the edge of the counter, streaming a cooking tutorial that Felix was utterly failing to keep up with.
âChop the ginger finely,â the video said.
Felix frowned down at the mangled, uneven chunks of ginger on his cutting board.
âThis is fine, right?â he mumbled to himself, throwing them into a pan.
âNo, itâs not fine,â a voice said behind him, calm but dripping with judgment.
Felix jumped, yelping as he nearly knocked the pan off the stove. He whirled around to see Minho leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised.
âHyung!â Felix squeaked, his voice an octave too high. âWhat are you doing here?â
âWe're having dinner together. Forgot I see ?â Minho asked flatly, his sharp eyes sweeping over the culinary battlefield. He nodded at the laptop screen.
âWhatâs this? I thought we were ordering?â
Felix scrambled to close the YouTube video but fumbled, sending a spatula clattering to the floor.
âNo! I justâŠuhâŠthought this recipe looked⊠yummy?â
Minhoâs other eyebrow shot up as he read, âGinger and lemon soup for nausea relief? Thatâs not exactly your usual vibe, Lix.â
Felix froze, his brain scrambling for an excuse. âIâŠuhâŠâ
Minho tilted his head, his gaze locked on Felix. He gestured toward the mess. âWhoâs it for?â
âNo one!â Felix blurted out too quickly.
Minho smirked - like a cat cornering a mouse. He strolled into the kitchen, plucked up the laptop, and read the YouTube title aloud: âPregnancy-Friendly Meals, huh?â
Felix groaned internally. He was so dead. Minho set the laptop down and turned to Felix, his face unreadable.
âYouâre cooking for Y/N, arenât you?â
âHowâŠwhatâŠwhy would you -â Felix blinked at him, jaw dropping.
âI saw her going into a maternity hospital last week...and now this? Itâs really sweet of you,â Minho said, his tone soft and kind, as he started clearing the counter. âSheâs lucky to have a friend like you.â
Felix stared at him, absolutely flabbergasted. How did Minho know? He stayed silent, unsure if confirming or denying would make things worse.
âRelax, Iâm not going to say anything. ButâŠâ His sharp eyes flicked to the pan on the stove, then back to Felix, a smirk forming on his face. âYouâre doing a terrible job. Move.â
Before Felix could protest, Minho rolled up his sleeves and took over. Within minutes, the chaos Felix had created was transformed into a very professionally prepared meal.
Felix hovered awkwardly, torn between relief and panic. âYouâŠyou wonât tell anyone, right?â
Minho snorted. âOf course not. And if youâre serious about helping her, then I'll stand right by you.â
He packed up everything in containers and handed it to Felix with a raised eyebrow.
âNow go. She needs to eat.â
---
Felix was at yours in record time, and when he set the food down on the coffee table, you looked up from the couch, sighing softly.
âDid you burn the kitchen down?â
âNope,â Felix said quickly. âMinho saved me.â
Your head snapped up, eyes wide. âWhat? Minho? He knows?â
Felix flopped onto the couch beside you, looking absolutely defeated.
âYeah, apparently heâs known for a while. He saw you going into the maternity hospital one day.â
You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. âOh my God.â
âHe promised not to say anything!â Felix said defensively, holding his hands up. âAnd he even helped cook this. So, technically, you canât kill me.â
You glared at him but couldnât help the small smile tugging at your lips.
âThanks for being here, Lix.â
Felix grinned, nudging the plate toward you. âEat, George. Minho will haunt me if you donât.â
You rolled your eyes but dug in, and for the first time in days, the food didnât immediately send you running for the bathroom.
---
The next morning, you woke up to the doorbell, in the early hours. It was still dark outside, as you stumbled out of your bedroom, still half-asleep, and a scowl firmly planted on your face.
âTook you long enough,â Minho mumbled as he walked into your apartment, going straight for the kitchen.Â
You were trying to understand if you were hallucinating or if Minho was actually in your kitchen.Â
âMinho, what are you doing here?â You asked, trying to tame your hair.Â
âSit,â he commanded without looking up, focused on flipping something in the pan.
You frowned but obeyed, collapsing into a chair at the table. âItâs not even sunrise.â
âJust making sure you eat,â he said simply. âLix said you're struggling,â
âYou're here to cook for me?â
âYes?â
Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Felix stepped inside, carrying what looked like a bag of groceries. He stopped short, staring at Minho with the same confusion you felt.
âWhat is he doing here?â
âI could ask the same about you,â Minho shot back without missing a beat, sprinkling a pinch of salt over whatever masterpiece he was working on.
Felix stormed into the kitchen, setting his bag down with an unnecessary thud. âWhat are you doing, hyung? And what are you even making? George doesnât even like eggs that much!â
Minho scoffed. âItâs not for you, so why does it matter?â
âIt matters because Iâm supposed to be taking care of her!â Felix snapped, crossing his arms like an angry puppy.
âClearly, you werenât doing a great job,â Minho retorted. âI saw the mess you called cooking yesterday.â
âOh my god,â you muttered, burying your face in your hands. âNot this.â
---
Over the next few days, it became a full-on battle between Minho and Felix. It started with each trying to one-up the other in ways that were more amusing than helpful.
One morning, Felix insisted on making pancakes, painstakingly arranging blueberries into a smiley face on each one. âSee, George? Theyâre cute and delicious!â
Minho, unimpressed, countered by making a three-course breakfast complete with fresh juice and perfectly folded napkins. âPregnant women need nutrients, not art projects,â he said smugly.
Felix glared at him like he wanted to fight. âPregnant women also need to smile, and my pancakes are adorable.â
But for all their ridiculousness, their constant presence was a comfort. They kept you distracted from the gaping hole in your chest where Hyunjinâs absence had settled. But no amount of blueberry pancakes or perfectly cooked meals could fill that void.
Felix had barged into your apartment one evening with a box of cookies that he'd baked.
âGeorge! I baked you something!â
Minho, already in the kitchen chopping vegetables, glanced over his shoulder with a look that screamed, not this again.
âWhat are those?â Minho asked, gesturing to Felix's box with his knife.
âCookies,â Felix said proudly, setting them on the table in front of you. âPregnancy-safe, gluten-free, sugar-free, full of love.â
âFull of what?â Minho deadpanned, clearly unimpressed.
âLove!â Felix shot back, hands on his hips. âSomething you wouldnât understand, obviously.â
âLove isnât a substitute for nutrition, Yongbok. Try again.â Minho snorted.
âOh, here we go,â you muttered, already bracing for the impending argument as you sat at the table, nibbling cautiously on a cookie.
âYouâre just jealous because George Jr. is my baby,â Felix said, crossing his arms and glaring at Minho like heâd just won the argument of the century.
Minho paused mid-chop, turned slowly to face Felix.
âGeorge Jr.?â he asked flatly. âThatâs the best you could come up with?â
âWhatâs wrong with George Jr.?â Felix said defensively. âItâs a strong name! Unique even!â
Minho scoffed. âUnique isnât always a good thing, Felix. You might as well call the baby Lemon or Carrot.â
âWow, okay,â you muttered, burying your face in your hands.
âAnd besides,â Minho continued, turning back to the stove like the conversation was settled, âI do the majority of the cooking, Y/N is thriving on it, so I'm the rightful Appa.â
Felix gasped like Minho had just slapped him.
âExcuse me? Cooking doesnât make you the dad! Iâm the one who gives her all the cuddles and emotional support!â
âYouâre like a clingy golden retriever,â Minho shot back, not even turning around.
âSay that again, hyung, I dare -â
âEnough!â you shouted, cutting through their bickering. Both men froze, wide-eyed, and looked at you.
âI'm sure Hyunjin would probably like a say in this whole âwhoâs the dadâ debate.â you said, and the room fell silent.Â
And then Minho shrugged casually.
âI mean, sure, if weâre counting his five seconds of contribution to this whole thing.â
You and Felix both turned to stare at him, your mouths dropping open in identical expressions of disbelief. It took approximately two seconds before all three of you burst out laughing.
The laughter started light, then turned uncontrollable, your giggles mixing with Felixâs loud snorts and Minhoâs chuckles. You laughed so hard your sides started to hurt, but then, without warning, the giggles morphed into something else.
The tears hit you before you could stop them. One moment you were laughing, and the next, you were crying, the overwhelming mix of emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.
Felixâs smile faltered, and he rushed to your side, wrapping an arm around you.
âGeorge, hey, hey, itâs okay,â he said softly, his usual sunshine dimmed by concern.
Minho was there a moment later, kneeling in front of you and gently resting a hand on your knee.Â
âBreathe, jagi,â he said quietly. âYouâre okay. Weâre here.â
You sniffled, trying to compose yourself, but the weight of everything - the pregnancy, the secret, missing Hyunjin - was too much.
âI miss himâŠa lot,â you managed between sobs.
âI know, I knowâŠbut we're here for you, George. Youâre not alone in this, okay? Weâve got you.â Felix hugged you tighter, his voice steady but emotional.
Minho nodded as he said, âHeâs right. Youâre stuck with us now. You and George Jr.â
That earned a watery laugh from you, and you wiped at your eyes, looking between them.Â
âI donât deserve you two.â
âYes, you do,â Minho said firmly.
âAbsolutely,â Felix added. âAnd so does George Jr.â
---
Hyunjin was losing his mind.
It wasnât just the lingering ache of your absence or the fact that he hadnât heard your voice in what felt like forever. But it was also Felix, his best friend, his other half, his partner-in-crime. Felix was suddenly a closed book. The guy who usually shared everything, from dumb cat videos to the tiniest gossip about their members, had turned into a human vault. A sketchy human vault.
Felix was constantly disappearing. After practice, during breaks, even in the middle of game nights. When Hyunjin asked, Felix always had some vague excuse.Â
âOh, just running errands!â
âHelping out Minho-hyung with something.â
âHad to grab something for George!â
Who the hell was George?Â
Hyunjin squinted every time Felix made one of these excuses. Since when was his best friend suddenly so obsessed with running errands? And why was Minho always involved?
Hyunjin didnât like it.
At first, he chalked it up to paranoia. Maybe he was overthinking. Obviously, losing you had him extra possessive and clingy. Maybe Felix and Minho were justâŠhanging out more? It wasnât a crime. But then Hyunjin started noticing things.
Felix and Minho were inseparable. Theyâre always whispering about God-knows-what. Theyâd vanish together after schedules, not even bothering to invite Hyunjin to join.
So naturally, one evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, Hyunjin cornered Felix in the locker room.
âLix,â he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall like he was interrogating a criminal. âWhere have you been going all the time?â
And to his credit, Felix didnât even flinch.
âOh, nowhere. Just hanging out with Minho-hyung. You know how it is.â
âSince when do you and Minho-hyung have thisâŠwhatever-this-is?â Hyunjin narrowed his eyes.
Felix shrugged nonchalantly, pulling his hoodie over his head and saying, âWeâve just been vibing.â
âVibing?â Hyunjin echoed, incredulous. âYou disappear every day to vibe? And whatâs with all the whispering during practice?â
Felix zipped up his hoodie and slung his bag over his shoulder.
âYouâre being dramatic, Hyun. Itâs nothing.â
Hyunjin stared at him, trying to gauge if Felix was lying. But Felixâs face was completely blank, a perfect poker face.
âWhat about Y/N?â Hyunjin asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. âHave youâŠseen her?â
At that, Felix paused, just for a second, but it was enough for Hyunjin to notice.
âI'm sure sheâs good, Hyun. Busy probably.â he managed, giving him a smile.
Hyunjin frowned, but before he could press further, Felix clapped him on the shoulder.
âDonât overthink, mate. Get some rest, yeah?â
And just like that, Felix was gone, leaving Hyunjin standing in the empty locker room, more confused than ever.
---
The next day, Hyunjin had been lingering suspiciously around the studio after practice, pretending to stretch while trying (and failing) to overhear Felix and Minhoâs latest hushed conversation.
Chris, so so used to all the bullshit his boys pulled on the regular, had noticed this constant whispering between Felix and Minho, and also Hyunjinâs not-so-subtle attempts to loiter. He clapped his hands loudly.
âHyunjin, go home. Youâre exhausted, mate.â
Hyunjin, startled, stammered something about finishing up but Chris gave him a hard enough glare that had him reluctantly packing up and storming off (throwing one last suspicious glance at Felix, who pretended to be engrossed in tying his shoelaces.)
Once Hyunjin was out the door, Chris turned to Felix and Minho, his arms crossed and his leader gaze set to high alert.
âOkay,â he said, his voice stern, âwhatâs going on with you two? Youâve been sneaking around like teenagers, and I have a bad feeling about it. Spill.â
Felix and Minho exchanged a glance, before Minho shook his head.Â
âNothingâs going on, hyung,â Minho said coolly, leaning against the wall like he wasnât sweating internally.
Felix, on the other hand, immediately started babbling.Â
âOh, you know, just chilling and cooking and - did you know George is a big fan of pumpkin soup? Iâve been learning how to make it. Minho hyungâs been helpingâŠheâs such a perfectionist in the kitchen, but thatâs beside the point -â
But the moment âGeorgeâ left his mouth, Minho sighed.Â
âWho the hell is George?â Chris interrupted, his sharp eyes narrowing.
Felix blinked rapidly, his face heating up. He could do anything, literally anything in the world. But that anything didn't include lying to Chris.Â
âOh, uh, George is justâŠyou knowâŠa friend!âÂ
âA friend? Youâve been disappearing every day, and sneaking around because of a friend?â
Felix opened his mouth, probably to launch into another nonsensical explanation, but Minho cut him off.
âGeorge is Y/N,â he said flatly, like he was tired of the charade.
Chris froze.
âWhat do you mean George is Y/N?â he asked, his voice rising slightly. âWhat the hell is going on?â
Felix started flailing, his words tripping over each other.
âItâs not like we didnât want to tell you, hyung, but itâs complicated, and sheâs been going through a lot, and she needs all the help and support with George Jr. -â
âGeorge Jr.?!â Chris exclaimed, his voice now echoing off the walls.
Minho, as calm as ever, pointed at Felix. âYouâre making it worse.â
Chris threw his hands in the air as he said, âWhat is George Jr.?!â
âYou mean who is George Jr.? Itâs the baby. Sheâs pregnant.â Minho sighed, rubbing his temples.
The room went silent. Chris blinked several times, his expression cycling through shock, confusion, and then something that could only be described as 'Dad Rage'.
âSheâs pregnant?! SHEâS PREGNANT, AND YOU TWO KEPT THIS FROM ME?!â
Felix, now thoroughly panicking, looked at Minho like he was begging for help. Minho just shrugged.
Chris glared at both of them. âYouâre taking me to her. Right now.â
---
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You waddled over and opened it to find Chris standing there, his arms crossed and his eyes full of emotion.
Before you could say a word, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.
âY/N,â he said firmly, his voice laced with both worry and frustration. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
Behind him, Felix stood pouting like a scolded child and Minho looked like he regretted everything.
âChris,â you gasped, trying to pull back from his hug. âI canât breathe!â
He released you but kept his hands on your shoulders, scanning your face like a concerned dad. âYou shouldâve told me. Weâre family, Y/N. You thought of doing this alone? Does he know? Oh my god, he doesn't know, does he?!â
From behind him, Felix muttered, âSheâs not alone. Iâve been taking care of her.â
Chris whipped around to face him.
âOh, youâve been taking care of her, have you?!â
Felix folded his arms, his pout deepening.
âGeorge Jr. is mine. None of you fake dads are gonna ever-â
Minho, whoâd been quiet up until now, rolled his eyes and interrupted him.
âPlease. You think youâre the dad just because you baked her cookies? Please.â
Felix turned to him, affronted. âYouâve been helping me! And my baby!â
âOh, for the love of -â Chris groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, before glancing at you. âWe're gonna get through this.â
You smiled at them, nodding. But deep inside, guilt gnawed at you. Everyone except Hyunjin seemed to be catching up.Â
You'd started working from home more and more since you started your sixth month. You came over to the company only when you had something important to do.Â
This afternoon was supposed to be uneventful. You had planned to drop by the company, grab a few files, and leave quickly. But apparently, fate had other plans.
You were leaving one of the offices when you heard it.
âY/N?â
The voice was soft, almost hesitant. You froze in place, gripping the files tightly against your chest. Slowly, you turned to see Hyunjin standing a few feet away, his eyes wide as saucers, his gaze locked on you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze flickered down to your stomach - the not-so-subtle curve of your six-month baby bump that your sweater absolutely failed to conceal under closer scrutiny.
Hyunjinâs face drained of all color.
âWhatâŠY/NâŠare youâŠ?â he stammered, his voice breaking.
You panicked, taking a step back. âHyunjin, I -â
But he was already closing the distance between you, his voice rising into a frantic whisper.
âAre you pregnant?!â
You winced, glancing around nervously, but the hallway was thankfully empty. Still, Hyunjinâs voice, even when hushed, completely floored you.
âHyunjin, letâs not -â
âAre you pregnant?!â he repeated, his voice breaking. His hand gestured toward your stomach, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldnât bring yourself to lie.
So you nodded.
His reaction was immediate. Hyunjin stumbled backward, his eyes welling up with tears, his hands clutching his head as if trying to keep himself from falling apart.
âOh my God,â he whispered, his voice hoarse. âOh my God. Oh my God, itâs mine, isnât it?â
You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the sight of him falling apart. âHyunjin -â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â His voice was louder now, no longer a whisper. âThatâs my baby! Our baby! And you didnât tell me?â
âHyunjin, please,â you begged, trying to calm him, but he was a storm you couldnât contain.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he demanded again, tears streaming down his cheeks. âI wouldâve left everything for you! Donât you know that? I wouldâve -â
You shook your head fiercely, your own tears spilling over now.
âHyunjin, I couldn't -â
âI donât care!â he shouted, his voice cracking painfully. âNone of it means anything if I donât have you!â
Before either of you could say more, Chris appeared, obviously having heard the chaos from the other end of the hallway.
âWhatâs going on here?â he demanded, his eyes flickering between you and the sobbing mess that was Hyunjin.
âHyung,â Hyunjin sobbed, clutching Chrisâs arm as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. âSheâs pregnant. Sheâs pregnant, and she didnât tell me. Thatâs my baby.â His voice broke again, and he leaned heavily into Chris, tears falling freely.
Chrisâs expression softened instantly, and he glanced at you as you stood rooted to your spot, tears spilling down your cheeks.Â
âHyunjin, calm down. Letâs talk about this somewhere else, okay?â He tried to guide Hyunjin back toward the practice room, but Hyunjin was not taking orders from anyone at this point.
âNo,â he said, his voice trembling. âIâm not going anywhere until she tells me why she didnât tell me.â
You stepped closer, your heart breaking as you cupped his tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands. His skin was warm beneath your touch, his eyes red and raw as they searched yours for answers.
âBecause,â you whispered, your voice cracking, âI love you. I love you too much to let you give up your dreams for me.â
âI couldnât let you make that choice, Hyun. Not when I knew how much this means to you.â
Before he could respond, Felix and Minho arrived, their worried faces appearing at the end of the hallway. Felix took one look at the scene and immediately rushed to Hyunjinâs side, wrapping an arm around him.
âHyunjin,â Felix said softly, his own voice shaking. âCome on, breathe.â
Minho, meanwhile, approached you, his arm going around your shoulder, and then glancing at Hyunjin.
âYouâre not going to solve anything by falling apart here,â he said calmly. âPull yourself together.â
But Hyunjin was inconsolable, his sobs growing louder.
âI didnât know. I didnât know. Sheâs been going through this alone, and I didnât know. What kind of person does that make me?â
You stepped closer, your voice firm as you said, âHyunjin, stop. Youâre not a bad person. This isnât your fault. If anything, it's mine. For keeping this from you.â
âI want to be there. Oh my God, I love you! Donât shut me out again,â he whispered brokenly. âPlease.â
You nodded, squeezing his hand. âI wonât.â
As Chris and Felix finally led Hyunjin away, Minho stayed behind, pulling you into a hug.
âWell,â he said dryly, âthat couldâve gone worse.â
You let out a shaky laugh, wiping your tears. âCould it?â
Minho sshrugged
âAt least he knows now. Heâll come around. And when he doesâŠâ He smirked faintly. âYouâre going to have a hell of a time keeping him out of your hair.â
You sighed, your heart heavy but hopeful. âI wouldnât have it any other way.â
The company meeting was the stuff of legends. Chris had marched in like the leader of a revolution, Hyunjin trailing behind with fire in his eyes. By the end of it, the higher-ups had no choice but to relent. Hyunjin wasnât going anywhere. Neither were you. And most importantly, Hyunjin was going to make damn sure his family - you and George Jr. were going to be happy, and with him always.Â
Now that he was officially back, Hyunjin wasted no time slipping into full-time âhusbandâ mode. His mission? Make up for every second heâd missed. And maybe, just maybe, remind Minho and Felix that while they had been excellent stand-ins, it was time to hand over the reins to the rightful husband.
But, of course, Felix and Minho had no intention of stepping aside without a fight.
---
You and Hyunjin were finally having some well-deserved downtime - he had you nestled against his chest on the couch, his hand resting protectively on your bump. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt calm. Peaceful.
And then Felix appeared.
âMove,â Felix announced dramatically, striding into the room and pointing at Hyunjin like he was accusing him of a crime.
âWhat?â Hyunjin asked, frowning.
âI said move,â Felix repeated, already wedging himself between the two of you (particularly experienced with this as he'd done it a hundred times before).Â
You couldnât help but laugh as Felix threw an arm around you and placed his head on your shoulder.
âJust so you know, Mr. Biological Father,â Felix began, glaring pointedly at Hyunjin, âGeorge Jr. is mine. We share an emotional bond that transcends DNA, okay? And, George? She's mine too. You being back changes nothing.â
Hyunjinâs jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.Â
âWhat are you even talking about?! Why are you still calling her that?!â
Felix huffed dramatically, clutching you tighter.Â
âBecause sheâs my George! And I will not stand for you disrupting the sacred trust weâve built. Now go be useful and bring George her smoothie.â
Hyunjin looked at you, utterly baffled. âYouâre seriously letting him call you George?â
âItâs a thing now. Iâve stopped fighting it.â You shrugged, trying to stifle your giggles.
Felix gave Hyunjin a smug grin.
âSee? Sheâs accepted her destiny. Now go.â
Before Hyunjin could fire back, Minhoâs voice floated in from the kitchen.
âYongbok-ah, Iâm the one making the smoothie. I know how to serve the smoothie I made. Hyunjin, if youâre so desperate to help, why donât you go fold the laundry or something?â
Hyunjin groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
âWhy am I suddenly the errand boy in my own house?â
Minho appeared in the doorway, smoothie in hand, his expression deadpan.
âMaybe because weâve been doing all the heavy lifting for months while you were busy, I donât know, not knowing she was pregnant.â he said, and Hyunjin flinched, clutching his chest like Minho had shot him.
âOkay, low blow.â
âI call it the truth.â Minho smirked.Â
âMinho hyung and I have carried this team for far too long. Youâre going to have to earn your place here, buddy.â Felix said with a grin.Â
Hyunjin threw his hands up in exasperation and said, âSheâs literally my girlfriend! How do I have to earn anything?!â
âGeorge belongs to us, Hyunjin. Now go fold the laundry.â Felix said, waving Hyunjin away.
You burst out laughing, clutching your belly as Hyunjin huffed in annoyance before stomping off. He came back with a basket full of freshly washed and dried clothes, and started folding.
âIâll fold every piece of laundry in Korea if it means overthrowing these two clowns.â
âYou guys are all insane, you know that?â you said, shaking your head.Â
âWe prefer devoted.â Felix grinned.
âDedicated. Loyal.â Minho nodded.Â
âWhatever they are, Iâll beat them at it. Just watch.â Hyunjin rolled his eyes but threw you a wink.
warnings : this feels a little rushed sorry!! , mingi loves calling reader baby hehe , morning sex with no plot lmao , head (f receiving) , unprotected sex (donât) , kissing , fingering , slight choking (not rlly) , biiiig dıck mingiđ , cum eating , pls lmk if i missed anything!
You wake up to find your bedroom silent and pitch black, the only light being the soft glow of the moon shining through your blinds.
You thought your sleep schedule had been getting better, but youâd started waking up in the middle of the night again. Youâre not sure why.
Actually, you know the exact reason why. Itâs because your boyfriend, Song Mingi, is on tour again. Heâs thousands and thousands of miles away from you and the comfort of your apartment.
You rub your eyes and sit up in your bed, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You turn on the screen and see the time reads 3:47am. Below is a thread of notifications from Mingi.
Heâs probably telling you to get some sleep or to eat properly - not just instant noodles.
He knows you worry and he knows you get lonely without him. Thatâs one of the many things you love most about your boyfriend. He notices everything.
Mingi: sleep well beautiful
Mingi: iâll be home before you know it
Mingi: donât worry too much
You type out a quick reply before throwing your phone onto the mattress.
Eventually, after what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, you manage to fall asleep again.
ââââ
The next time youâre woken up, itâs by the sun illuminating your bedroom and⊠a wetness between your legs.
You find yourself trying to wriggle away from the sensitive pressure between your legs, but something is holding you down.
Or someone.
You blink open your sleepy eyes and look down to find your boyfriendâs head between your thighs. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down. That explains why you couldnât move.
You arch your back off the bed and reach down, letting your fingers card through his annoyingly perfect hair.
You see the moment he realises youâre awake when he lifts his head, revealing his shiny lips and chin. âGood morning, baby.â he smirks up at you.
You canât help but giggle as he dives back in, sucking your already-sensitive clit into his mouth. You whine in response, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips upwards.
He wastes no time pushing two fingers inside of you, pumping them slowly as he effortlessly reaches all the right spots.
âMingiâŠâ you moan his name, somehow already close to the edge.
He doesnât respond. He just quickens his movements. His tongue flicks over your clit faster and his fingers push further inside of you, curling at just the right angle. Your legs tremble as you warn him youâre about to come.
âM- ahh⊠Mingi, Iâm closeâŠâ you whimper seconds before your release coats his fingers.
He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze.
He releases your thighs and moves quickly, hovering over you. He buries his face in your neck and inhales deeply. âGood girl.â
âYou couldnât wait until later?â you chuckle (although you arenât complaining) and wrap your legs around his waist.
âAnd miss out on waking you up in the best way possible? Absolutely not.â he groans as he begins kissing and nipping at your neck. One of his hands grips your hip tightly and the other rests beside your head, careful not to put all of his weight on you.
He leaves a trail of kisses from just below your ear all the way down to your collarbone. You didnât even notice he had shifted his weight to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans just enough to free his hard length.
Saying Mingi is big is an understatement. Heâs huge. Not just length, but girth, too. Youâll never get over how good the stretch feels when he pushes inside of you.
âTell me you missed me, baby.â he whispers hoarsely against your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. But he doesnât wait for you to respond.
You open your mouth to speak but heâs already pushing inside of you. He groans against your neck and mutters something that sounds like a mix of your name and âfuckâ.
You cry out embarrassingly loud and your nails dig into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt (which he didnât bother to remove).
He groans again and removes his hand from your hip, bringing it up to wrap around your throat instead. He squeezes, but not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to show heâs in control. But damn you already knew that.
He bottoms out and heâs already panting into the crook of your neck. âFuck, baby⊠needed you so bad.â
Then heâs moving. Thrusting deep and agonisingly slow. One hundred percent on purpose.
âMingiâŠâ you breathe, although youâre not even sure why.
âUse your words, love. Tell me what you want.â he smirks before lifting his head to capture your lips in a slow but hungry kiss. His fingers tighten around your neck for a moment, urging you to speak.
âMoreâŠâ you manage to say.
âMore?â he chuckles low in his throat. âGreedy little thing.â
He listens, though. With practiced ease, he quickens his pace and shifts ever so slightly to angle himself deeper inside of you.
When your walls begin clenching around him, you know youâre not going to last much longer. Heâs kissing you when you squeeze his cock and he lets out this delicious, deep groan straight into your mouth. You swallow it, your tongue pushing into his mouth before mingling with his.
He lowers his head again and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are messy and ragged now as he gets closer to the edge.
He removes his hand from your throat and reaches between your bodies to rub fast, tight circles on your clit.
âAhh⊠Iâm close.â you manage to whisper.
âLet go, baby. Come for me.â he encourages, thrusting faster.
Your pussy clamp around him as you come which leaves him following seconds later. He basically collapses on top of you as his hot ropes of come fill you up. Heâs a panting, groaning, sweaty mess when he lifts his head from your neck for the final time.
Summary:after a major scandal destroys an idolâs reputation, sheâs forced into a fake relationship with Hyunjin from Stray Kids as a public image strategy. What starts as a controlled contract slowly turns into something far more complicated as boundaries blur, emotions get involved, and neither of them can tell whatâs real anymore
Notes:Hi guys, well⊠this fic isnât finished. I just started writing it without really thinking too much about it, and Iâll be honest, I donât really have ideas for the ending yet⊠but I think I might turn this into a series. Thatâs it, bye đ«¶
My main masterlist / skz Masterlist
The conference room on the top floor of JYP Entertainment felt freezing. Not because of the air conditioning, but because of the heavy tension hanging in the air like thick smoke. The long dark wood table reflected the bright white ceiling lights, and around it sat the people who would decide the next chapter of your career - and your life.
You sat on the left side, hands tightly clasped in your lap, nails digging slightly into your own skin. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it wanted to escape your chest. You were wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, hair tied in a low ponytail, no makeup. You didn't want to look "put together." Not today. After everything that happened, anything you did could be seen as "a diva trying to fix her image."
Across the table, Hwang Hyunjin was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, expression neutral. His black hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he wore an oversized light-colored shirt. He didn't look at you. Not once.
The JYP CEO, along with two marketing directors, your solo team representative, and Stray Kids' manager, silently flipped through documents.
"Let's get straight to the point," the CEO began, his voice firm and leaving no room for emotion. "(Your Name)'s situation is critical. The leaked audio, the private messages... her image has plummeted. Sponsors are reconsidering contracts, social media is divided, and the hate is affecting the sales of the latest single. We need a strong, immediate, and effective action."
One of the marketing directors cleared his throat and projected a graph on the screen filled with red numbers.
"The numbers don't lie. Minus 47% positive mentions in the last three weeks. The dominant narrative is that (Your Name) is arrogant, mistreats staff, and is ungrateful for her success. The public apology helped a little, but not enough. The public wants to see real change."
You swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on you. Your hands trembled slightly. You wanted to speak, to explain that you were exhausted that day, that the stylist had delayed everything, and that your tone was the result of months of accumulated pressure. But you knew any defense now would sound like an excuse. So you stayed quiet, biting the inside of your cheek.
The CEO continued:
"The solution we've found is a contractual relationship. Six months. Long enough to create a new narrative: an idol who made a mistake but is maturing, in a healthy relationship, and showing another side. And the ideal partner for this is Hyunjin."
Hyunjin, who had kept his gaze down until then, suddenly lifted his head. For the first time since entering the room, he showed a clear reaction.
"Me?" he asked, voice low but full of disbelief.
"Yes," the director confirmed. "You two are close in age, and your artistic concepts complement each other. The ship already exists lightly among some fans because of the dance comparisons. Also, Hyunjin's spotless image will help soften the perception of (Your Name). It's a win-win strategy."
Hyunjin let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Win-win?" he repeated. "Did you all watch the same audio as the rest of the country? The way she spoke to the stylist... that wasn't just a simple outburst. It sounded like pure arrogance. And the messages? Complaining about being tired of everything, as if the rest of us don't work just as hard. Now you want me to pretend to be her boyfriend?"
His words landed like stones in the silent room. You felt your chest tighten. You lowered your gaze to your hands, blinking quickly to hold back the burning in your eyes. You knew he thought that. Most people did. But hearing it directly hurt differently.
"Hyunjin," his manager interrupted cautiously, "we understand your hesitation. But this benefits Stray Kids too. The group is in an international expansion phase. An indirectly associated scandal could harm schedules. Six months. After that, you end it amicably and each goes your own way."
You finally found the courage to speak, your voice lower than you wanted:
"I... I don't want to force anyone. If Hyunjin isn't comfortable, we can think of another solution."
All eyes turned to you. Hyunjin looked at you for the first time. His gaze was cold, analyzing. As if trying to figure out if you were sincere or just acting for the room.
One director shook his head.
"There is no other viable short-term solution. You two will sign the contract today. Clear rules: shared housing in an apartment prepared by the company, controlled public appearances, posts on social media, joint lives, dates that will be 'leaked' strategically. No unnecessary physical contact when there are no cameras, but enough closeness to make it look real. At the end of six months, an amicable breakup with a joint statement."
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, visibly irritated. He leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"And if I refuse?"
The CEO smiled, but it wasn't kind.
"It's not a recommended option, Hyunjin. We all have common goals here. Protecting careers."
The silence that followed was suffocating. You felt the weight of every gaze. The shame burned in your chest. You remembered the leaked audio, the messages taken out of context, the lives you watched while crying as people called you every name possible. And now this. Being forced to fake a relationship with someone who clearly despised you.
Hyunjin glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He saw your tense shoulders, the way you bit your lower lip. For a second, he almost felt pity. Almost. But the sound of your voice in the audio - cold and demanding - came back to his mind.
The meeting continued with the details, but your mind drifted to that fateful day.
---
Flashback
The practice room was chaotic. Sweat dripped down your back as you tried to run the choreography for the hundredth time. The important festival performance was only days away, and everything was going wrong. The stylist had brought the wrong outfits - again. The wrong colors, wrong sizes, completely off concept. The schedule was delayed by nearly two hours.
Your patience, already worn thin from weeks of back-to-back schedules and almost no sleep, finally snapped.
You turned to her, voice sharp and exhausted.
"Oh my god, girl, don't you know how to do your fucking job? We're already behind!"
The stylist looked at you with wide eyes. You continued, unable to stop:
"I try so hard not to be rude to you, but every single day it feels like you work with zero effort! Stop looking at me with that face and just do your job properly. I'm the one who's going to get all the hate if this goes wrong on stage, not you!"
It wasn't screaming. It wasn't a full meltdown. But the cold, tired, cutting tone was enough. The entire team went silent. The stylist's face flushed with embarrassment and anger.
---
Back in the present, you snapped out of the memory when papers were placed in front of you.
The documents were thick - full of clauses, million-dollar fines for breaking the contract, detailed rules about what you could and couldn't do. You both signed in heavy silence. As the pen moved across the paper, you felt like you were signing away a part of yourself.
After the meeting, the managers explained the next steps: moving into the apartment that same week, first "official date" on the weekend, initial subtle posts. As everyone started leaving the room, Hyunjin stood up quickly but stopped beside your chair for a second.
"Just to be clear," he murmured low enough for only you to hear, "I saw the audio. I saw the messages. I don't think you're a good person. We'll do the job, but don't expect me to like you."
You lifted your gaze, meeting his. There was hurt there, yes. But also wounded pride and exhaustion.
"I didn't ask you to like me," you replied, voice shaky but firm. "Let's just... survive these six months."
Hyunjin held your gaze for one more moment, then left the room without another word.
You remained seated for a few more seconds, alone in the now-empty room. Your chest ached. Your hands were still trembling. Six months pretending to love someone who saw you as an arrogant diva. Six months living with him. Six months smiling for cameras while everything inside you was falling apart.
You took a deep breath, wiped away a single escaped tear, and stood up.
The contract had begun.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The apartment was beautiful. Too beautiful. Located in a high-security building in Gangnam, it had floor-to-ceiling windows, modern minimalist furniture, a huge living room, and a kitchen that looked like it had never been used. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small terrace with a view of the city lights. The company had prepared everything - even stocked the fridge with healthy meals and placed fresh flowers on the dining table like this was some romantic movie.
But the atmosphere inside felt like a frozen battlefield.
You arrived first with your two suitcases and a manager. The staff helped bring your things inside, then quickly left, saying "Good luck" with an awkward smile. You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling completely out of place.
Ten minutes later, the door opened again.
Hyunjin walked in dragging a large suitcase behind him, a black hoodie pulled over his head, earphones in. He didn't even glance at you. He simply scanned the apartment with a neutral expression, then headed straight toward the hallway.
You stayed quiet, not wanting to make things worse. The silence was already loud enough.
After a few minutes, he came back to the living room. You were still standing in the same spot, unsure what to do. He stopped a few meters away, hands in his pockets.
"So... this is it," he said flatly.
"Yeah," you replied softly. "This is it."
Another heavy pause. Neither of you knew how to act. You were two strangers who had been forced into the same cage for the next six months. The air felt thick, uncomfortable.
Hyunjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look... we should set some rules. So this doesn't become hell."
You nodded quickly, relieved he brought it up first.
"Okay. Rules sound good."
He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
"First, bedrooms. You take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right. We don't enter each other's rooms. Ever."
"Fine," you agreed immediately.
"Second, schedules. We both have crazy timetables. I'll send you my schedule every Sunday night so we can avoid... unnecessary overlapping in the common areas. If one of us is home, the other tries to stay in their room."
You bit your lip but nodded again.
"Third," he continued, voice cold but clear, "don't talk to me unless it's necessary. No small talk. No asking how my day was. We're not friends. This is work. Outside of cameras and public appearances, we're basically roommates who don't exist to each other."
The words stung, but you didn't show it. You expected this.
"Understood," you said quietly. "I won't bother you."
Hyunjin stared at you for a moment, as if trying to read whether you were being sarcastic. When he saw you were serious, he just gave a small nod.
"Good."
And with that, he grabbed his suitcase and disappeared into the right bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
You let out a long breath you didn't know you were holding and dragged your own bags to the left bedroom. The room was nice - soft lighting, big bed, private bathroom - but it felt cold. You sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.
Six months.
This was going to be harder than you thought.
-----
The first night was painfully awkward.
You stayed in your room most of the time, only leaving once to get water from the kitchen. When you heard Hyunjin's door open, you quickly retreated back to yours like a scared mouse. He did the same. You could hear faint music coming from his room. You kept yours completely silent.
The next morning was even worse.
You woke up early and made yourself a simple breakfast - toast and coffee. While you were eating at the counter, Hyunjin walked out of his room, already dressed for practice. He stopped for half a second when he saw you, then walked straight to the fridge without a word. The silence was suffocating.
You finished eating quickly, washed your plate, and went back to your room. Before closing the door, you muttered a quiet "Have a good practice," but he didn't respond.
It felt like living with a ghost who hated you.
-----
Later that afternoon, while you were lying on your bed scrolling through your phone, your notifications started exploding.
You had followed Hyunjin on Instagram an hour earlier - as instructed by the company. It was supposed to be the first small "hint" for fans. What you didn't expect was for him to follow you back just ten minutes later.
The fandoms lost their minds instantly.
@stay4lifee:WAIT HYUNJIN FOLLOWED HER BACK??? He only follows the members!!!
@luminas_unite:Okay but why did she follow him first and he followed back so fast??? This is suspicious af
@skzupdat3s:New couple alert??? Or is this damage control after her scandal???
@hyyunjinnieverse:My boy would NEVER follow someone randomly... what is happening đ
The comments were a mix of confusion, excitement, and suspicion. Some STAYs were happy, others were skeptical because of your recent controversy. Your own fans were split between protective and hopeful.
You stared at the screen, heart racing. This was really happening. The fake narrative had officially begun.
A message from your manager popped up:
Manager:Good job. The company is happy with the first move. Keep it natural.
You tossed your phone aside and buried your face in the pillow.
In the other room, Hyunjin was also on his phone, frowning at the rising comments. He had followed you back because the company told him to, but seeing the reaction made his stomach twist. He threw his phone on the bed and muttered to himself:
"This is going to be a long six months..."
---
That evening, the company sent new instructions: you two needed to post something subtle on your stories soon. Nothing too obvious yet - maybe a photo of coffee cups or the city view from the same apartment.
You were the first to do it. You took a picture of the sunset from the living room window (making sure Hyunjin wasn't in frame) and posted it with a simple heart emoji.
Hyunjin saw the notification. He rolled his eyes but knew he had to play along. Twenty minutes later, he posted a similar shot from the terrace - same sunset, same angle.
The internet exploded again.
"THEY'RE IN THE SAME PLACE"
"This can't be a coincidence"
"Hyunjin never posts sunset pics... this is shady"
You were sitting on the couch when his bedroom door opened. Hyunjin walked out, saw you there, and stopped. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and headed back to his room.
Before he closed the door, he paused.
"You posted the sunset," he said without turning around.
"Yeah... they told me to."
He nodded once.
"Don't make it too obvious next time."
Then the door clicked shut again.
You hugged your knees to your chest, the heavy silence returning. Two strangers forced to share the same luxury prison. No talking unless necessary. No real contact.
And six months had only just begun.
Outside, the rumors were already spreading like wildfire.
And deep down, both of you knew this was only the beginning of something much more complicated.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The message from the company came at 2 PM sharp.
"First public date scheduled for tonight. 8:00 PM at La LumiĂšre. Private table near the window. Dress nicely but not too formal. Act natural. Photos will leak naturally - we have people on it. This is the first big step. Make it convincing."
You stared at the text for a long time, stomach twisting into knots. Just four days into this fake arrangement and they were already pushing you both into the spotlight. You knew it was coming, but the speed still made your head spin.
Hyunjin received the same instructions. When you passed each other in the hallway of the apartment earlier that afternoon, he didn't say a word about it. He simply glanced at you once, expression unreadable, and continued to his room. The silence between you two had become almost normal now - heavy, awkward, and filled with everything neither of you wanted to say.
You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready in your room. You chose a soft beige dress that fell elegantly just above the knees, paired with light makeup and loose waves in your hair. You wanted to look put-together, but not like you were trying too hard. The last thing you needed was more comments calling you calculated or fake.
At 7:40 PM, the company van arrived. Hyunjin was already waiting inside, dressed in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, silver earrings catching the light, and black trousers. He looked effortlessly handsome, as always. You slid into the seat across from him. He didn't greet you. He simply nodded once and looked out the window.
The ride to the restaurant was dead silent. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the occasional vibration of phones. You wanted to say something - anything - to ease the tension, but remembered his rule: Don't talk to me unless necessary.So you stayed quiet, staring at your hands.
When the van stopped in front of La LumiĂšre, a famous fine-dining restaurant known for its romantic ambiance and discreet VIP area, your heart started racing. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile and led you to a beautifully prepared table near the large window. Soft golden lighting, fresh white roses in a vase, and two glasses of wine already poured.
You sat down. Hyunjin pulled out your chair first - a gentlemanly move that felt completely mechanical. Once seated, the real discomfort began.
For nearly twenty minutes, the conversation was painfully stiff.
"How was your day?" you asked quietly, trying to fill the silence.
"Busy," he replied, eyes fixed on the menu. "Practice ran late."
You nodded. "Mine too. We had vocal lessons until six."
Silence again.
You tried once more. "This place is beautiful. The company really went all out."
Hyunjin hummed in response, not even looking up. "Yeah."
The awkwardness was suffocating. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on both of you. To any outsider, it would be obvious something was wrong. You two looked more like business partners forced to share a meal than a budding couple. Hyunjin's jaw was tight. You kept fidgeting with the edge of your napkin. The distance between you across the table felt like an ocean.
That's when you noticed it.
A man sitting two tables away kept glancing in your direction, phone held a little too casually. Outside the window, someone pretended to take photos of the street but clearly angled the camera toward you. The company had done their job - the eyes were already here.
Hyunjin noticed at the exact same moment. His eyes met yours, sharp and alert. A silent message passed between you: They're watching.
In an instant, the entire dynamic shifted.
Hyunjin's posture changed completely. The cold, distant man disappeared. He leaned forward, a soft, charming smile forming on his lips - the same one millions of fans adored. He reached across the table and gently took your hand, thumb stroking the back of it with surprising tenderness.
"You look really beautiful tonight," he said, voice warm and low, perfectly pitched for the setting. "That dress suits you."
Your cheeks flushed instantly. Even though you knew it was fake, the delivery was flawless. You smiled shyly, playing along.
"Thank you... You look handsome too. I like the shirt."
He chuckled softly, the sound rich and convincing. Then he stood up, walked around the table, and sat in the chair right beside you instead of across. The distance closed. His arm draped casually over the back of your chair, fingers lightly brushing your bare shoulder. The contact sent a small shiver down your spine.
"I've been thinking about you all day," he murmured, leaning closer. "With everything going on... I worry about you working too hard."
You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. They were incredibly close now. You could smell his cologne - woody and clean.
"I'm okay," you whispered back, voice softer. "Having you here makes it easier."
The words tasted strange, but you sold them well. Hyunjin's gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before he leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your cheek. His lips were warm. The touch lingered just long enough to look intimate, but not scandalous. You felt your heart skip.
He stayed close after that, whispering small compliments and laughing at things you said like they were the funniest jokes in the world. You shared a plate of pasta, feeding each other small bites for the cameras. His hand never left yours. Every movement was calculated but looked completely natural.
For the next hour, you two put on the performance of a lifetime.
By the time you left the restaurant, hand in hand, the plan had worked perfectly. Phones had been discreetly snapping photos the entire time. The "leak" was already spreading like wildfire across social media even before you reached the van.
---
Back at the apartment, the act dropped the second the door closed.
Hyunjin immediately released your hand like it burned him. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen without a word, grabbing a bottle of water. You stood in the entrance, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on your cheek and the warmth of his hand on your waist.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
You finally spoke, voice quiet.
"...Thank you for tonight. You were really convincing."
Hyunjin paused, back still turned to you. He took a long sip of water before answering.
"It's my job now, isn't it?" His tone was cold again, the warmth from the restaurant completely gone. "Don't get used to it."
You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "I won't."
He started walking toward his bedroom, but stopped in the hallway for a second.
"The photos will be everywhere by morning," he said without turning around. "Get ready for it."
Then his door clicked shut.
You stood there alone for a long time, fingers lightly touching the spot on your cheek where his lips had been. Your heart was still racing. The worst part wasn't the fake smiles or the forced touches.
It was how dangerously real some of those moments had felt.
And how terrified you were that, over the next six months, the line between acting and reality might start to blur.
Outside, the internet was already exploding with the new photos. The narrative was shifting.
But inside the apartment, the cold silence remained.
----------
The storm hit the very next morning.
Your phone started vibrating nonstop at 6:47 AM. Notifications flooded in - Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, news alerts, group chats with your team. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow for a few seconds before finally grabbing the device.
The photos were everywhere.
Blurred but intimate shots from the restaurant: Hyunjin kissing your cheek, his hand gently holding yours across the table, the two of you sitting side by side with soft smiles, sharing food, looking at each other like the rest of the world didn't exist. The headlines were dramatic but effective:
"HYUNJIN AND [YOUR NAME] SPOTTED ON INTIMATE DATE AMID RECENT SCANDAL"
"From Controversy to Romance? Stray Kids' Hyunjin Seen Getting Close with Solo Idol"
"New Power Couple? Fans React to Viral Photos"
You sat up in bed, scrolling through the comments with wide eyes. The reactions were mixed, but the shift was undeniable.
@st4y4ever:Wait... they look kinda cute together? Hyunjin looks happy
@luminas_shine:Finally some good news after all that hate. She deserves this
@kpoptea_daily:This is so obviously PR but I'm still eating it up
@hyunjinbiaseed:My boy would never date someone who mistreats staff... these photos feel staged
@yournameupdates: Her smile looks genuine. Maybe she's not as bad as the audio made her seem?
For the first time since the audio leak and the private messages went viral, the comments weren't purely hateful. Some were still suspicious, calling it a desperate marketing move by the company. Others were already shipping you two hard. The hate hadn't disappeared, but it was quieter. The narrative was slowly, carefully, beginning to change.
A message from your manager popped up:
Manager:Great job last night. The company is very satisfied with the early results. Trending topics are positive. Keep it up.
You locked your phone and sighed, running a hand through your messy hair. Part of you felt relieved. The other part felt sick. None of it was real.
You got out of bed and quietly made your way to the kitchen, hoping Hyunjin was still asleep. No such luck.
He was already there, leaning against the counter drinking coffee, phone in hand. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked up when you entered but didn't say anything.
You moved around him carefully, grabbing a glass for water.
"Did you see?" you asked softly.
"Yeah," he replied, voice flat. "It's working. For now."
You nodded, unsure what else to say. The silence stretched again, heavy and familiar. You wanted to talk about how strange it felt seeing those photos, how convincing he had been last night, how his kiss on your cheek kept replaying in your head. But you remembered his rules. Don't talk unless necessary.
So you stayed quiet.
Hyunjin finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.
"The company wants more appearances soon," he said without looking at you. "Lives. Maybe another date. Don't get too comfortable with any of this."
"I won't," you answered quickly.
He paused for a second, like he wanted to say more, but then simply walked back to his room and closed the door.
You stood alone in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter. The warmth from last night's fake affection was still lingering in your chest, and it scared you.
---
Throughout the day, the buzz only grew stronger.
Your Instagram followers increased by thousands. Fan edits of the two of you started appearing - slow-motion clips of the kiss on the cheek, side-by-side photos comparing your aesthetics. Some STAYs were still wary because of the scandal, but many were warming up. Your own fandom was split between protective anger at the company and hopeful excitement that you might be happy.
But inside the luxurious apartment, nothing had changed.
You spent most of the day in your room, working on new music and answering emails. Hyunjin stayed in his. You only saw him once in the afternoon when he came out to make a protein shake. He moved around the kitchen like you weren't even there.
At one point, you worked up the courage to speak.
"Hyunjin... do you want to rehearse what we might say if we have to do a live together soon?"
He looked at you with a cold expression.
"No need. I'll act when I have to. You do the same."
The words stung more than you expected. You nodded and retreated back to your room, closing the door softly.
Alone, you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind kept drifting back to the restaurant. The way he had leaned in so naturally. The warmth of his hand. The soft press of his lips on your cheek. The low tone of his voice when he called you beautiful.
They were all fake. You knew that. But your stupid heart didn't seem to get the message.
Stop it,you told yourself. This is exactly what you can't do.
---
Later that evening, the company sent new instructions: they wanted you two to do a casual Instagram story interaction within the next few days. Something simple - maybe commenting on each other's posts or posting a photo with a vague caption.
You were the one who posted first. A simple photo of a book and a cup of tea with the caption "Quiet nights healing âĄ". It was innocent enough.
Hyunjin liked it within minutes.
Then, surprisingly, he posted a story of his own - a photo of the city view from the terrace with the caption "Peaceful evenings." The angle was suspiciously similar to yours.
The fandoms noticed immediately.
"They're definitely in the same place again"
"This is too coordinated"
"Hyunjin never does soft captions like this..."
You smiled faintly at the reactions, but the smile faded when you heard Hyunjin's door open. He walked into the living room, saw you on the couch with your phone, and stopped.
"You posted," he said.
"Yeah. They told me to."
He nodded once. "Good."
For a moment, he looked like he might sit down or say something else. Instead, he grabbed a water bottle and headed back toward his room.
"Hyunjin?" you called out before you could stop yourself.
He paused.
"Do you... hate doing this that much?" you asked quietly.
He turned slightly, eyes cold but honest.
"I don't hate you," he said. "I just don't trust you. There's a difference."
Then he disappeared into his room again.
You pulled your knees up to your chest on the couch, heart aching with confusing emotions. The company was happy. The public was slowly shifting. But you?
You were the only one starting to get lost in a story that wasn't even real.
And the scariest part was that you had no idea how to stop it.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The company was pleased with the results so far.
The leaked date photos had done their job - the public conversation was slowly shifting from your scandal to the possibility of a new romance. Sponsors were reconsidering. Your streams were up. And the fans, although still divided, were buzzing with curiosity instead of pure hate.
So they decided to push the narrative further, but in a way that felt more "natural."
Hyunjin was instructed to do one of his casual solo lives from the apartment. Nothing too staged. Just him, the fans, and a normal evening. The perfect opportunity to show a soft, boyfriend-like side without forcing anything obvious.
You were in your room when he set up.
Hyunjin placed his phone on a small tripod in the living room, adjusted the lighting, and sat on the large sofa. He was wearing a loose gray hoodie and black shorts, hair slightly messy in that effortlessly attractive way. He started the live at 9:15 PM.
"Hey everyone," he greeted with his usual charming smile, waving at the camera. "It's been a while since I did a random live like this. How are you guys tonight?"
The comments flooded in immediately. Hearts, greetings, and questions poured across the screen. Hyunjin read some aloud, laughing softly at the funny ones, answering others with care. He talked about recent practices, a new painting he was working on, and how tired but happy he felt.
Everything was going smoothly.
Until it wasn't.
You had gotten thirsty after hours locked in your room working on lyrics. You didn't think he was doing a live - you assumed he was just on his phone. So you walked out of your bedroom in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, hair up in a messy bun, heading toward the kitchen.
For a brief second, you appeared in the background of the frame - just a quick blur of movement. You opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and closed it again.
Then you spoke, voice soft and low, not realizing the live was on.
"Hyunjin, did you eat dinner already? There's still some chicken in the fridge if you want..."
The words were quiet, but the microphone caught them.
The comments exploded instantly.
"WAIT WHO WAS THAT?!"
"DID SOMEONE JUST WALK BY???"
"WAS THAT HER VOICE?!?!"
"HYUNJIN IS NOT ALONE IN THE APARTMENT OMG"
Hyunjin froze for a split second. His eyes widened slightly before he quickly regained control, but the brief slip was enough. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Ah... ignore that," he said, trying to play it off. "Just the TV. You guys know I leave it on sometimes."
But it was too late. The fans had already seen. And worse - they had heard.
A few seconds later, when a comment asked "Who's there with you?", Hyunjin leaned forward slightly, still smiling, but his ears were turning red.
He answered without thinking, tone softer than usual:
"Don't worry about it, angel. Everything's fine."
The word slipped out so naturally - angel - in that gentle, low voice he rarely used with you in private. It wasn't loud enough for everyone to catch clearly, but sharp-eyed fans paused the live, zoomed in, and read his lips.
The chat went absolutely feral.
"HE SAID ANGEL I'M SCREAMING"
"SINCE WHEN DOES HYUNJIN CALL SOMEONE ANGEL???"
"THIS IS NOT PR ANYMORE, THIS IS REAL"
"He looked so soft oh my god"
Hyunjin realized his mistake almost immediately. He straightened up, cleared his throat, and tried to change the subject.
"Anyway, someone asked about the new comeback choreography..." he continued, forcing his usual bright tone. But the damage was done. His cheeks stayed slightly flushed for the rest of the live. He ended it ten minutes earlier than planned, saying he was tired.
The second the live ended, he dropped his head into his hands.
"Shit..."
---
You had gone back to your room right after grabbing water, completely unaware of what had just happened. You were sitting on your bed with headphones on when you heard a knock on your door.
Hyunjin stood there, looking frustrated.
"You walked by during the live," he said bluntly.
Your eyes widened. "What? I didn't know you were live! I'm sorry, I-"
"And you spoke," he added. "They heard your voice. And I..." He paused, jaw tight. "I slipped up."
You stared at him, heart beating faster.
"What did you say?"
He looked away, clearly annoyed with himself.
"Doesn't matter. It's already spreading."
The silence that followed was heavy. You wanted to apologize again, but something in his expression stopped you. He looked conflicted - angry at the situation, but maybe also at himself.
"I'll be more careful next time," you said quietly.
Hyunjin nodded once and turned to leave. Before he closed the door, he paused.
"...Don't overthink it. It was just acting."
But as he walked back to his room, you couldn't stop replaying his voice in your head. The soft tone. The word angel. The way his expression had changed for a split second.
You sat on your bed, hugging your knees.
For him, it was probably just a mistake. A slip caused by the pressure of the live.
For you... it was another crack in the wall you were desperately trying to keep up.
The company sent a message ten minutes later saying they were extremely happy with the "accidental" moment. The clips were going viral. The romance narrative was growing stronger by the hour.
You turned off your phone and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
This was all supposed to be fake.
ââââàšà§ââââ
One month.
Thirty days since the contract began. Thirty days of shared silences, forced smiles, and carefully staged moments. What started as damage control had become one of the biggest topics in the K-pop industry.
The public no longer talked about the leaked audio or your âarrogantâ messages. Instead, they talked about you and Hyunjin.
Matching rings â discreet silver bands with a small engraved line on the inside â were delivered to the apartment. âWear them naturally,â the message said. âLet the fans notice.â You slipped yours on every time you left the apartment. Hyunjin did the same, though he never commented on it.
The biggest step yet came on a quiet Thursday night.
A joint live.
For the first time, you would appear together officially on camera.
---
The setup was simple but intimate: the living room couch, soft lighting, a few snacks on the coffee table. You sat beside Hyunjin, closer than strangers but not quite as close as lovers. He wore a black hoodie. You chose a cream sweater. Both of you wore the matching rings.
Hyunjin started the live with his usual easy charm.
âHey STAYs⊠and everyone else watching,â he said, waving at the camera. âWe thought it was time to do a live together. A lot of things have been going around lately.â
You smiled shyly, waving as well. âHi everyone. Thank you for joining us.â
The comments exploded immediately.
âTHEYâRE TOGETHER!!â
âMATCHING RINGS IâM CRYINGâ
âFINALLY OMGâ
At first, the atmosphere was careful. Almost scripted. You answered questions about favorite foods, how you first met properly, and what it was like working in the industry. Hyunjin was polite, charming, and distant in the way only he could be.
But as the live continued, something shifted.
A comment asked: âHow do you take care of each other?â
Hyunjin glanced at you. For a second, his expression softened.
âShe works really hard,â he said, voice gentler than usual. âSometimes I have to remind her to eat.â He reached over and lightly adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen over your face â a small, natural gesture that made the chat lose its mind.
You felt your cheeks heat up. You laughed softly and replied, âHe pretends he doesnât care, but he always leaves water and snacks for me when I have late schedules.â
Your hand brushed against his on the couch. Neither of you pulled away.
The tension in the apartment â the cold distance you had both maintained for a month â seemed to melt under the lights of the camera. Small touches lingered. Eye contact lasted longer than necessary. When you laughed at something he said, Hyunjin watched you with an expression that didnât feel completely fake.
One fan commented: âHyunjin looks at her so softlyâŠâ
He read it aloud and, instead of denying it, just smiled and said, âShe makes it easy.â
Your heart stumbled.
For you, the live was becoming dangerous.
Every soft look, every casual touch, every time his voice dropped when he spoke directly to you â it all felt too real. You kept remembering the restaurant date. The accidental âangelâ during his solo live. The way he had started leaving small notes or snacks for you even when the cameras werenât watching.
You were falling. Slowly. Quietly. And you hated yourself for it.
---
For Hyunjin, things were more complicated than he wanted to admit.
Over the past month, he had watched you more than he should. He saw how you thanked every staff member sincerely when no cameras were around. How you cried silently in your room after particularly harsh hate comments. How you pushed yourself harder than anyone else, even when exhausted.
He still didnât fully trust you. The leaked audio still played in his head sometimes.
But the version of you he had built in his mind â the arrogant, cold diva â was cracking.
During the live, when a fan asked about your first impression of each other, Hyunjin hesitated for half a second too long.
âShe surprised me,â he answered honestly. âIn a good way.â
You looked at him, surprised. He met your eyes and, for a moment, the scripted answers disappeared. The look he gave you was real.
The live ended after ninety minutes with both of you waving goodbye, shoulders touching.
The second the camera turned off, Hyunjin leaned back on the couch and let out a long breath. You stayed seated, heart still racing.
âThat went well,â you said quietly.
âYeah.â He didnât look at you.
The silence returned, but it felt different now. Heavier. Full of things unsaid.
Hyunjin stood up first.
âIâm going to my room,â he said. But before he left, he paused. âYou did good tonight.â
It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given you.
You stayed on the couch long after he disappeared, staring at the black screen of the phone. The fans were already making clips â zooming in on every touch, every glance, every soft smile.
The world was believing the lie more and more.
And you?
You were starting to wish it wasnât a lie at all.
ââââàšà§ââââ
Two weeks after the joint live, the apartment no longer felt like a battlefield.
It still wasnât warm. But the ice had started to crack.
Hyunjinâs changes were subtle â so subtle that at first you thought you were imagining them. He was still reserved, still kept his distance, but the sharp coldness from the beginning had softened into something quieter. Something more confusing.
It started with small things.
One night, you came back from a long rehearsal completely exhausted. You barely had the energy to take off your shoes before collapsing on the couch. Twenty minutes later, a plate of food appeared on the coffee table in front of you â warm rice, grilled chicken, and vegetables. No note. No explanation. When you looked toward his room, the door was already closed.
Another time, you were struggling to reach something on a high shelf in the kitchen. Hyunjin walked by, silently grabbed it for you, and handed it over without a word. His fingers brushed yours for a second longer than necessary.
He answered your questions more gently. When you asked about his schedule, instead of a short âBusy,â he would say, âItâs been heavy, but Iâm managing. How about you?â
Nothing dramatic. Nothing that couldnât be explained as âgood acting for the cameras.â
But it was enough to keep you awake at night.
The company, thrilled with the growing buzz, decided to take the next big step.
A major awards show â one of the biggest of the season. You and Hyunjin were both attending, and this would be your first official public appearance as a couple. Red carpet, interviews, sitting together, photos. Everything under the spotlight.
The night of the event, the tension in the apartment was thick.
You wore a stunning black gown with delicate silver details that matched the ring on your finger. Hyunjin looked breathtaking in a tailored black suit, hair styled back, silver earrings shining. When you stepped out of your room, he paused for a moment, eyes scanning you from head to toe.
âYou look⊠nice,â he said quietly.
Just ânice.â But the way he said it felt heavier.
The ride to the venue was quiet, but when you arrived and stepped onto the red carpet, the act began.
Hyunjin placed his hand on your lower back as you walked. The touch was firm, warm, and steady. Cameras flashed endlessly. Journalists shouted questions.
âHyunjin! Are you two really dating?â
He smiled â that dazzling, charming smile â and pulled you closer to his side.
âWeâre taking things one day at a time,â he answered smoothly. Then he looked at you, eyes softer than they should have been. âBut Iâm lucky to have her by my side.â
Your heart skipped.
During the interviews, he never let go of your hand. When a reporter asked about your recent scandal, Hyunjin stepped in naturally.
âSheâs one of the hardest working people I know,â he said, voice sincere. âThe way she pushes herself⊠it inspires me every day.â
The compliments didnât sound like lines. They sounded real.
You squeezed his hand, playing your part, but inside you were spiraling. Every touch, every look, every soft word was making the line between fake and real blur dangerously.
---
Hyunjinâs POV
He didnât know when it started.
Maybe it was during the late nights when he heard you crying quietly in your room after reading hate comments. Or when he saw you thanking the tired staff members with genuine warmth after long schedules. Or how you never complained, even when you were clearly exhausted.
The image he had built of you â arrogant, cold, someone who mistreated others â no longer fit perfectly.
He still didnât trust you completely. The leaked audio still echoed in his mind sometimes. But now, when he looked at you, he saw someone carrying too much pressure, trying her best, and slowly breaking under it.
Tonight, on the red carpet, he told himself it was all acting. The hand on your back. The soft looks. The compliments. It was all for the cameras.
But when he said you inspired him, part of him meant it.
And that terrified him.
So he hid it. Behind the role. Behind the âcontract.â Behind the excuse that this was all just work.
Back at the apartment after the awards, the masks came off.
You kicked off your heels with a sigh of relief. Hyunjin loosened his tie, watching you from across the room.
âYou did well tonight,â he said.
There it was again â that softer tone.
You turned to him, unable to hold it in anymore.
âHyunjin⊠why are you being like this?â
He frowned. âLike what?â
âLikeâŠâ You gestured vaguely. âThis. The touches. The compliments. The way you look at me sometimes. Is it all still acting? Because it doesnât feel like it anymore.â
He stayed quiet for a long moment, jaw tight.
âIt has to be acting,â he finally answered, voice low. âThatâs what we agreed on.â
You nodded, but your chest ached.
âRight. Of course.â
You turned to go to your room, but his voice stopped you.
ââŠYou looked beautiful tonight.â
You froze in the hallway.
This time, he didnât add âfor the cameras.â He didnât justify it. He just said it.
And when you looked back, Hyunjin was already walking to his own room, shoulders tense, like he had said too much.
You closed your door and leaned against it, heart racing.
The public believed the love story more than ever.
But inside these walls, the lines had stopped being clear a long time ago.
And for the first time, it wasnât just you who was getting lost.
Hyunjin was starting to lose his way too.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The message arrived at 7:12 AM like a bomb.
It was a private group chat used only by high-level staff. Someone â no one knew who yet â had leaked internal documents. Screenshots of the original contract. Emails discussing ânarrative control.â Payment details. Timelines. Everything.
Within minutes, the documents were everywhere.
âCONTRACT LOVE EXPOSED: [Your Name] and Hyunjinâs Relationship is FAKEâ
The internet exploded.
Clips from your dates, lives, and red carpet appearances were replayed with new eyes. Fans who had defended the relationship felt betrayed. Others who had been suspicious from the beginning celebrated. Hashtags like #FakeCouple and #ContractLove trended worldwide.
The company reacted fast. By 9 AM, an official statement was released:
âWe deny the rumors. Hyunjin and [Your Name] are in a genuine relationship. The leaked documents are fabricated and taken out of context. Legal action will be taken against those responsible.â
But the damage was done. The doubt had already spread like wildfire.
---
Inside the apartment, the atmosphere was suffocating.
You and Hyunjin sat on opposite ends of the couch, phones in hand, watching the chaos unfold in real time. Neither of you had spoken for almost twenty minutes.
Hyunjin was the first to break the silence, voice low and tense.
âTheyâre saying thereâs no real proof weâve ever been intimate. No real kisses. No proper couple moments outside the staged ones.â He laughed bitterly. âTheyâre not wrong.â
You swallowed hard, eyes still glued to the screen.
âWhat do we do now?â
âThe company wants us to post something together today. Something that looks more⊠real.â He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. âTheyâre desperate.â
You nodded slowly. The pressure felt heavier than ever. The line you had both been walking was now razor-thin, and the leak had made everything ten times more unstable.
Throughout the day, the distance between you two became strange â closer in some ways, but more fragile in others.
Hyunjin started hovering more. He sat closer on the couch while you planned what to post. When you got anxious reading the hateful comments, he silently pushed a glass of water toward you without comment. Small things. Almost protective.
But the tension was also worse.
Every look lasted too long. Every accidental touch felt electric. The air between you crackled with everything unsaid â the fake kisses, the real feelings, the fear that this could all collapse at any moment.
In the evening, you finally posted together.
A simple photo: his hand holding yours, rings visible, with the caption âThrough everything, we choose each other đâ. It was carefully crafted, but after the leak, it felt hollow even to you.
Hyunjin posted the same photo on his account with the caption âAlways.â
The comments were chaotic. Some believed it. Many didnât.
That night, neither of you went to your rooms early.
You stayed in the living room, lights dim. Hyunjin sat on the floor leaning against the couch. You were curled up on the sofa. The silence wasnât cold anymore â it was heavy with confusion.
âCan I ask you something?â you said quietly.
He looked up.
âDo you regret agreeing to this?â
Hyunjin stared at the floor for a long time before answering.
âAt the beginning⊠yes. Now?â He shrugged. âI donât know anymore.â
You turned to face him fully.
âSometimes I forget itâs fake,â you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. âWhen you touch my hand or look at me during lives⊠it doesnât feel fake.â
He didnât answer right away. His jaw tightened, and for a moment you thought he would shut down like before. Instead, he spoke softly.
âI know.â
The admission hung in the air between you.
Hyunjin stood up slowly and moved to sit on the other end of the couch. Closer than usual, but still careful. He looked at you â really looked â and for the first time, the walls seemed thinner.
âThe company wants us to do more,â he said. âBigger gestures. Maybe even⊠a kiss for the cameras soon.â
Your heart raced.
âAnd what do you want?â you asked.
He didnât answer with words. Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand, thumb tracing the matching ring on your finger. The touch was warm. Real.
âI donât know anymore,â he whispered.
The leak had broken something open.
The public was doubting the relationship.
But inside these walls, the real problem was the opposite:
You were both starting to doubt that it was fake at all.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The company never stopped pulling the strings.
Even after the leak, they adapted quickly. New âaccidentalâ moments were strategically planted: a blurry photo of Hyunjin leaving the same building as you, a story where your voices overlapped in the background, a paparazzi shot of you two getting coffee early in the morning. Everything looked spontaneous. Everything kept the fire alive.
The public was hooked. Some believed it was real. Others called it damage control. But the interest never died down.
To push the narrative even further, the company planned something softer.
A private â but not really private â date by the Han River.
---
It was a cool evening. The company had arranged a semi-secluded spot with beautiful city lights reflecting on the water. A picnic blanket, some snacks, and âdiscreetâ security nearby. They wanted natural photos. Romantic ones. The kind fans would screenshot and analyze for days.
You arrived first, wearing a simple oversized sweater, jeans, and a coat. Hyunjin showed up ten minutes later in a black coat and scarf, looking effortlessly handsome as always.
At first, the awkwardness lingered. You sat on the blanket, the Han River flowing quietly beside you, the Seoul skyline glowing in the distance.
But something was different tonight.
Maybe it was the lack of immediate cameras in your faces. Maybe it was the gentle breeze and the sound of water. Or maybe it was the fact that both of you were slowly getting tired of pretending.
The conversation started slow, but it flowed.
âYouâve been sleeping better?â Hyunjin asked, voice softer than usual.
You looked at him, surprised by the question.
âA little. The new song is almost ready, so Iâve been less stressed.â
He nodded, picking at a piece of fruit. âI saw you practicing yesterday. Youâre really good. The emotion you put in⊠itâs rare.â
The compliment felt genuine. You smiled shyly.
âThank you. Iâve seen some of your new choreography too. You always make it look easy.â
He chuckled, a real one this time. âItâs not. But I like when it looks that way.â
As the minutes passed, the tension between you two began to melt. You talked about small things â favorite late-night snacks, embarrassing moments on stage, dreams you had before debut. Hyunjin listened more than he spoke, but when he did, his voice was calm and attentive.
At one point, he leaned back on his hands, looking at the river.
âThis doesnât feel so bad,â he murmured.
You turned to him. âWhat doesnât?â
âBeing here. With you.â
Your heart skipped. The city lights reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, the contract, the company, the rumors â everything faded.
You moved a little closer. He didnât pull away.
The air grew thicker. Warmer. His gaze dropped to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Hyunjin lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek.
Neither of you spoke.
Then, gently, he leaned in.
The kiss was soft. Calm. Unexpectedly real.
His lips moved against yours with no rush, no performance. One of his hands cupped your face while the other rested on your waist, pulling you closer. You kissed him back, fingers gripping the front of his coat. It wasnât passionate or dramatic. It was quiet. Honest. The kind of kiss that happened when two people stopped thinking about who was watching.
When you pulled apart, foreheads still touching, Hyunjinâs eyes were darker than before.
ââŠThat wasnât for the cameras,â he whispered.
You smiled faintly, breathless.
âI know.â
You stayed like that for a while â sitting close, shoulders touching, watching the river flow. His arm eventually wrapped around you. You leaned into him. For the first time in months, the silence between you felt comfortable.
But nothing in this relationship stayed private for long.
The next morning, photos from the river date were already circulating. Someone had taken them from a distance. The company denied leaking them, but everyone knew how these things worked.
The kiss wasnât fully visible in the photos.
But the closeness was.
And the public went wild once again.
---
Back in the apartment the following day, the atmosphere had changed.
Hyunjin was quieter, more thoughtful. You caught him staring at you more than once. When you made coffee in the morning, he accepted the cup with a small âthank youâ and a lingering look.
Neither of you talked about the kiss.
But you both felt it.
The line between acting and reality wasnât just blurred anymore.
It was disappearing.
And neither of you knew what would happen when it finally vanished completely.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The apartment was silent when you returned from the Han River.
You closed the door behind you quietly, heart still racing from the kiss. Your lips tingled. Your skin remembered exactly where Hyunjinâs hands had been â one on your waist, the other gently cupping your face. The way he had pulled you closer. The softness of his mouth. The quiet sound he made when you kissed him back.
You leaned against the door for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing.
It was just for the moment, you told yourself. It didnât mean anything.
But you knew you were lying.
You went straight to your room, closing the door and leaning against it. The memory wouldnât leave you alone. The way the city lights had reflected in his eyes right before he leaned in. The warmth of his breath. The way his thumb had brushed your cheek so tenderly.
You changed into an oversized t-shirt and crawled into bed, but sleep refused to come.
Your mind kept replaying the kiss on loop.
The way he had whispered âThat wasnât for the cameras.â
The way your body had reacted â melting into him, wanting more.
Your hand slowly slid down your stomach, slipping under the hem of your shirt. You bit your lip, hesitant for a second, but the ache between your legs was becoming impossible to ignore.
You closed your eyes and let the memory take over.
You imagined Hyunjinâs hands again â this time sliding under your sweater, warm palms against your bare skin. You remembered how strong he felt when he pulled you closer by the river. Your fingers dipped lower, brushing over your panties. You were already wet.
A soft sigh escaped your lips as you pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing slow circles.
In your mind, it was Hyunjin touching you.
You pictured him pushing you gently against the railing by the river, kissing you deeper, hungrier. His tongue sliding against yours. His hand slipping under your clothes, fingers teasing you exactly where you needed it.
You moaned quietly, legs spreading a little wider under the sheets.
âHyunjinâŠâ you whispered to yourself, voice barely audible.
Your fingers moved faster, pressing harder. You imagined him whispering your name against your neck, voice low and rough the way it got when he was emotional. You imagined him kissing down your throat, sucking gently on your skin while his fingers pushed inside you.
The pleasure built quickly. Your free hand gripped the sheets as your hips started rolling against your hand. You were soaked now, the sound of your fingers moving wet and obscene in the quiet room.
You thought about the way he looked at you after the kiss â dark eyes, slightly parted lips, like he wanted to say something but couldnât. You imagined him pinning you against the wall in this very apartment, kissing you like he meant it, grinding against you, telling you he couldnât pretend anymore.
âFuckâŠâ you gasped, back arching off the bed.
Your fingers moved faster, chasing the high. The memory of his soft âThat wasnât for the camerasâ pushed you over the edge.
You came hard, thighs trembling, biting down on your lip to stay quiet as waves of pleasure crashed through you. His name slipped from your mouth again in a broken whisper.
When it was over, you lay there breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling.
Reality came back slowly.
You had just touched yourself thinking about Hwang Hyunjin â the same man who had once called you arrogant. The same man who was only supposed to be pretending.
And the worst part?
You wanted the real thing.
---
In the room across the hall, Hyunjin couldnât sleep either.
He lay on his back, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The kiss by the river kept replaying in his mind too.
He remembered how soft your lips were. How perfectly you had fit against him. How you had kissed him back without hesitation.
He turned on his side, frustrated.
It was just acting,he told himself.
But even he didnât believe it anymore.
He had been avoiding direct contact with you since you got back. He stayed in his room more. Spoke less. But his mind wouldnât stop. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you looking up at him by the river, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and honest.
He groaned quietly and ran a hand down his face.
This was getting dangerous.
The contract was supposed to be simple. Six months. Fake it until the end. But the lines had blurred so much he couldnât even see them anymore.
He wondered if you were thinking about the kiss too.
He had no idea you were touching yourself in the other room, moaning his name under your breath.
The emotional connection between you two was growing stronger every day, even as the physical distance remained. Small gestures. Long looks. Shared silences that felt heavier with meaning.
Neither of you was ready to admit it.
But the kiss by the river had changed something irreversible.
And now, lying awake in separate rooms, both of you were feeling the weight of it.
The contract was still there.
But the feelings?
They were becoming very, very real.
ââââàšà§ââââ
Hwang Hyunjin couldnât stop thinking about the kiss.
It had been three days since that night by the Han River, and the memory refused to fade. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again: the soft glow of the city lights on your face, the way you looked up at him right before he leaned in, the quiet sound you made when his lips touched yours.
He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, back against the bed, sketchbook open on his lap but untouched. The pencil in his hand had been still for almost twenty minutes.
It was just acting, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time.We were supposed to make it believable. Thatâs all.
But the more he tried to convince himself, the more the lie fell apart.
He remembered how you hadnât pulled away. How you had kissed him back. How, for a few seconds, the entire world had disappeared and it was just the two of you by the river â no cameras, no contract, no expectations.
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
He had created a very clear image of you in his head from the beginning. The arrogant idol who spoke coldly to staff. The one who complained in private messages. The âproblematicâ girl the company forced him to date for image repair.
That image was crumbling.
Lately, he noticed things he didnât want to notice.
The way you thanked every staff member sincerely, even when exhausted. How you practiced until your body couldnât take it anymore. The quiet way you handled hate comments without complaining to anyone. The small smiles you gave when you thought no one was looking.
He stood up and paced around his room.
This is dangerous.
The contract was clear. Six months. Fake it. End it cleanly. Falling for you â or even starting to care â was the fastest way to complicate everything. For his career. For the group. For you.
Still, he found himself doing things he couldnât explain.
That morning, when he heard you coughing in your room, he left a warm bottle of honey tea in front of your door without a word. Yesterday, when you came home late from practice, he had ordered your favorite late-night soup and left it in the fridge with a note that simply said âeat.â
He told himself it was just maintaining the act.
But deep down, he knew it wasnât.
---
Later that evening, you crossed paths in the kitchen.
You were making ramyeon, hair up in a messy bun, wearing one of your big t-shirts. Hyunjin walked in to grab water and stopped for a second when he saw you.
The memory of the kiss hit him again.
You looked up and gave him a small, tired smile.
âHey.â
âHey,â he replied, voice quieter than usual.
The air felt thick. You both moved carefully around each other, hyper-aware of the space between your bodies. When your arm brushed his while reaching for something, he froze for half a second.
You noticed.
âHyunjin⊠is everything okay?â you asked softly.
He looked at you. Really looked. His eyes traced your face â the slight shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep, the way you bit your lip when nervous.
âYeah,â he lied. âJust tired.â
He wanted to say more. He wanted to ask if you had been thinking about the kiss too. He wanted to tell you that he couldnât stop remembering how soft you felt against him.
Instead, he grabbed his water and left the kitchen without another word.
---
Alone in his room again, Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands.
He was scared.
Not of the scandal. Not of the company. Not even of the fans.
He was scared because for the first time in a long time, he was feeling something real â and it was for the person he had sworn to keep at a distance.
He remembered how you looked at him by the river. How your fingers had gripped his coat. How you hadnât hesitated.
âFuck,â he whispered to the empty room.
He stood up and went to the window, looking out at the city lights. The same lights that had witnessed your kiss.
He knew he should pull back. Create more distance. Protect both of you from whatever this was becoming.
But another part of him â a bigger part than he wanted to admit â wanted to get closer.
He thought about the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. The way you worked so hard even when the world was against you. The quiet strength you carried every single day.
The old image he had of you was gone.
And in its place was something much more dangerous:
You.
Just you.
Hyunjin leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes.
He didnât know what he was going to do.
But he knew one thing for certain:
The contract was no longer the hardest thing he had to deal with.
You were.
And he was starting to fall.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The days after the kiss by the Han River felt like walking on thin ice.
Everything looked the same on the outside â the shared apartment, the matching rings, the occasional âcoupleâ posts required by the company. But inside, the air had changed. It was heavier. More fragile. Like one wrong word could make everything crack.
Hyunjin started pulling away.
It wasnât sudden or dramatic. It was slow, calculated, almost invisible. He went back to being polite but distant. Short answers. Avoiding eye contact for too long. Spending more time in his room with the door closed. When you were in the same space, he moved around you like you were made of glass â careful, but never close.
You felt every inch of the growing distance.
The warmth that had started to appear after the river kiss was disappearing. The small gestures â leaving snacks, asking if you had eaten, the lingering looks â became rare. He was trying to regain control, and you could see the struggle in his eyes every time he looked at you for a second too long before turning away.
Hyunjin played his part well. He held your hand across the table. He smiled when the waiter came by. He even tucked a strand of hair behind your ear like he had done by the river.
But the moment the staff left, he let go of your hand like it burned him.
The silence on the way back to the apartment was painful.
You finally spoke when you were inside, voice quiet.
âHyunjin⊠did I do something wrong?â
He stopped in the hallway, back still turned to you.
âNo,â he answered after a pause. âYou didnât.â
âThen why does it feel like youâre running away?â
He didnât answer. He just went into his room and closed the door softly.
You stood there for a long time, chest aching. The kiss that had felt so real now felt like a dream you were being punished for believing in.
---
Hyunjin was fighting a war inside his own head.
Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the way you had kissed him back. The way your fingers had gripped his coat. The way you had looked at him afterward â soft, surprised, and honest.
He hated how much he wanted to do it again.
So he distanced himself. He told himself it was the smart thing to do. The safe thing. Getting emotionally involved would only destroy both of you when the contract ended. The company would never allow it. The fans might turn against you. His members could get dragged into the mess.
But the more he pulled away, the more he noticed you.
The way you tried to act normal even when hurt. The quiet way you moved around the apartment so you wouldnât bother him. The tired smiles you gave during forced public appearances.
He was confused. Angry at himself. Scared.
Because no matter how hard he tried to put you back in the old box â the âarrogant idolâ box â you no longer fit.
---
The company, completely unaware of the internal chaos, kept pushing.
They scheduled more appearances: a shopping âdateâ where you were photographed leaving a store together, a joint Instagram live where you answered fan questions while sitting close on the couch, and even a planned âsurpriseâ visit to one of his rehearsals.
During the live, Hyunjin was perfect on camera â smiling, playful, calling you âangelâ again for the fans. But the second the camera turned off, he stood up and went to the kitchen without a word.
You stayed on the couch, staring at your hands.
Later that night, you found a small note on the kitchen counter.
âThereâs soup in the fridge. Heat it up before eating.â
No signature. No explanation.
Just another silent gesture that made your heart hurt even more.
You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask if the kiss had meant anything. You wanted to know if he was feeling even half of what you were feeling.
But you stayed quiet.
Because you were terrified of the answer.
---
The emotional distance between you two grew every day.
Hyunjin became more calculated in public â the perfect fake boyfriend. But in private, he was a ghost. Present, but unreachable.
You started questioning everything.
Was the kiss real?
Was any of the softness from the past weeks real?
Or had you just been a better actress than you thought?
One night, after another forced public appearance, you sat on the living room floor with your back against the couch, exhausted. Hyunjin came out of his room to get water and stopped when he saw you.
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. His eyes softened. He took a small step forward.
But then he stopped himself.
He grabbed the water and went back to his room without a word.
You hugged your knees to your chest and whispered to the empty room:
âI donât know how to do this anymore.â
The contract still had months to go.
But the feelings?
They were no longer under control.
And both of you were slowly drowning in the space between what was fake⊠and what was becoming terrifyingly real.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The silence had become unbearable.
For days, Hyunjin had been pulling away â short answers, closed doors, avoiding your eyes like you were something dangerous. Every small progress you thought you had made after the kiss by the Han River seemed to have vanished. The warmth was gone. The distance was back, colder than before.
You couldnât take it anymore.
It was past midnight when you finally knocked on his bedroom door. Your hands were shaking. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.
Hyunjin opened the door. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair messy like he hadnât slept either. When he saw it was you, his expression tightened.
âWhat?â he asked, voice low.
You stepped inside without waiting for permission, closing the door behind you. The room smelled like his cologne and fresh paint.
âWhy are you doing this?â you started, trying to keep your voice steady. âWhy did you suddenly go back to being cold after the river? After everything?â
Hyunjin crossed his arms, leaning against his desk.
âIâm not being cold. Iâm being realistic.â
âRealistic?â Your voice rose. âYou kissed me like that and now you act like I donât exist? Like nothing happened?â
He looked away, jaw clenched.
âIt was a mistake.â
The words hit you like a slap.
âA mistake?â you repeated, voice cracking. âYou said it wasnât for the cameras. You saidââ
âI know what I said!â he snapped, finally raising his voice. âFuck, do you think this is easy for me? We have a contract, (your name). Six months. Fake. That was the deal. Iâm trying to not make this any more complicated than it already is.â
You felt tears burning in your eyes.
âSo youâre just going to pretend it didnât mean anything? That pulling me closer, kissing me like that⊠it was all acting?â
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
âI donât know what it was, okay?!â he raised his voice. âIâm confused as fuck! One minute Iâm telling myself this is all fake, the next I canât stop thinking about you. About the way you kissed me back. About how you looked at me. This wasnât supposed to happen!â
You took a step closer, tears now falling freely down your cheeks.
âIâm falling for you, Hyunjin,â you confessed, voice breaking. âI tried not to. I swear I did. But every time you touch me, every time you look at me like you care⊠I canât pretend anymore. And now youâre running away like a coward.â
Hyunjinâs eyes widened. For a second, he looked completely lost.
âDonât say that,â he whispered, almost pleading. Then his tone hardened again. âYou think Iâm not scared? Iâm fucking terrified! If we let this become real, what happens when the contract ends? What happens when the company finds out? What happens when the fans turn on us â on you â again?â
âI donât care!â you shouted, crying harder. âAt least be honest with me! Stop treating me like Iâm nothing after making me feel like I was something!â
Hyunjin stepped forward, eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper.
âYou think I donât feel anything?â he yelled back. âEvery time I see you, I want to kiss you again. Every time you smile at me, I forget why Iâm supposed to stay away. Youâre driving me insane, (your name)! I hate this. I hate how much I want you. I hate that I canât stop thinking about you even when Iâm trying to push you away!â
The room fell silent except for your quiet sobs.
You wiped your tears angrily, voice trembling.
âThen stop pushing me away⊠or just tell me you donât want me. Say it clearly.â
Hyunjin stared at you, breathing heavily. His eyes were red, conflicted, full of emotions he didnât know how to name.
âI canât say that,â he admitted, voice rough. âBecause it would be a lie.â
You stood there crying, chest heaving. He looked like he wanted to reach out and wipe your tears, but he held himself back, fists clenched at his sides.
Nothing was solved.
The silence between you had finally broken, but what replaced it was raw, messy, and terrifying.
Hyunjin looked away, voice barely above a whisper.
âI donât know what to do anymore.â
You wiped your face one last time and headed toward the door.
âNeither do I,â you said softly. âBut I canât keep pretending like this doesnât hurt.â
You left his room without closing the door.
Hyunjin stood there for a long time after you were gone, staring at the empty space where you had been.
For the first time since the contract began, both of you were completely lost.
And the feelings you could no longer ignore were becoming stronger than any contract ever could be.
Pairing: Vampire!Chan x Human Fem!Reader, Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
Summary: Chris loved one woman his entire existence. Cursed with immortality, he looks for a will to go on. After 400 years, heâs finally found a reason: the love of his life was reborn, but sheâs soon to be married.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI with adult content. Character deaths, blood feeding, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, dubious consent(sex in a dream), nipple play, use of pet names, and a god damn insane amount of acknowledgment to Chrisâ stupid plush lips because I have no self control.
Word Count: 18,900 and some change
Authorâs Note: This is a commission for the lovely @brittahontas! Thank you for giving me a beautiful prompt. Iâve been in love with Dracula for so long, and we needed a fic where he gets the girl. I am forever grateful for your support. It helps more than you know. If you guys are curious how to get a commission of your own, check out this post. Otherwise, please enjoy!
+++++++++
A sheet of grey clouds engulfs the sky in London. No sun peeks through, and the expectation of rain is a certainty. Chris doesnât worry as his carriage continues down the cobblestone path. From behind him, a clock bell rings out, marking the hour of noon as the carriage crosses the river. He hates being out during the day, but certain affairs needed to be settled. The sooner, the better.Â
Chris looks down at the envelope in his hand. He is on his way to meet with Hyunjin Hwang. A newer solicitor at Harrison & Associates. The man is young but promising, willing to do the legwork in securing a property, or so the owner promises. Chris has only one concern; he asked for secrecy. Less interaction is better. The company would reap substantial rewards if Hyunjin bought the properties swiftly and privately.
Hyunjinâs penmanship is eloquent. Itâs refreshing to see it in the letter sent in response to the property inquiry. Even on the appointment card there is delicate lettering. Any time Chris rejoins society after several decades of slumbering, he worries about the changes. Society forces him to adapt and discover what advancements have occurred. At least humans are consistent with being stupid creatures, still preoccupied with fighting for imaginary power as if it matters.Â
The surrounding city changed quite a bit since his last visit. To be expected after two hundred years. Growth appears to be exponential. There are new buildings, though the main roads remain the same, just not as wide. His carriage stops in front of what used to be a building owned by a shoemaker; it now is his destination for his meeting today.Â
Chris steps out with grace, not bothering to take in the bustling city life around him. Instead, he focuses on the large glass window that reveals the young man he suspects to be Hyunjin in the otherwise empty office. Heâs a handsome man with his brown eyes and plush lips. Women must adore him. Especially now, with a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose while heâs tying up long raven locks away from his face.Â
The door chimes above Chris as he steps into the business. Immediately the human looks up from his stack of papers, forcing a smile onto his face. His voice is soft and polite as he stands. âAh, you must be Lord Bahng. Itâs a pleasure to meet you finally. I apologize for making you come all this way.â
âThatâs quite alright,â he answered, removing his gloves before tucking them into his jacket. âHow is Mr. Anderson?â
âUnwell. Doctors are confident, though.â Hyunjin shifts the weight on his feet. There is a spike in his heart rate, even though he masks his unease well. âUm, how are the accommodations? I know itâs not the best for a prince, but are you adjusting well?â
Chris doesnât miss the redirection from Hyunjin. Anderson is nearing death. Will this young solicitor be inheriting the company then? That is a lot of pressure for someone without years in the industry; perhaps thatâs why he was so eager to follow the absurd demands.
âThe staff is exceptional.â
âGood. Very good. UhâŠâ Hyunjinâs words trail off as he sorts through the folders on his desk until he finds the one he needs. âYour shipments arrived. Unfortunately, the ship never made it to the pier. The storm crashed the Demeter onto the coast several miles north. I can assure you that only one crate sustained damage. I believe it was dirt; they salvaged what they could.â
Chris briefly sucks on one of his fangs, a habit of his when annoyed. Itâs perfectly fine. Was it taken to the abbey?â
âYes, sir. Right in the heart of London.â Hyunjin takes out a map from the stack of files and lays it out on the surface of his desk. âAfter today, I will have the deeds for the last two properties, and we can begin transport if you require it.â
âHow far are the last two properties from here?â
âSix miles.â Hyunjin answers before pointing at two different locations. Chris leans forward to examine the distance. âI have to say, this is a great way to have connections across the country.â
Hyunjin isnât wrong. This is what Chris needs. He can cover more ground this way and expand outwards. His previous purchases were in France to help establish roots, but here he can expand his footing west. Heâs unsure what his next move will be. Maybe he will mingle with the nightlife.Â
The young man speaks up again. âForgive me for being curious, but what brings you here? Has the city summoned you?â
âA change of scenery, I guess you could say.â
âHow is Romania?â Hyunjin asks, eyes full of genuine curiosity. âIâve never been out of the country.â
âThe winters can be very unforgiving,â Chris answers honestly. His mind flickers over a dark memory in particular, but he shakes it off to keep his composure. âSummer makes up for it.â
More business talk occurs. There is paperwork to be addressed. Hyunjin signs over deeds to the four properties he had already bought. Keys are to be given with proper labeling. Hyunjin humbly accepts the large amount of money from Chris. The professionalism and trust in this small company appeared to be the right call. Â
As Hyunjin moves around the cramped office, Chris reaches for a sketchpad on the corner of the desk heâd been eyeing for the last half an hour. There is an illustration of a skyline of buildings in brown ink. Itâs then that Chris realizes itâs not ink that was the medium used; rather, it was coffee. The paper still has a lingering scent from the brewed beans. Chris admires the talent before speaking about it. âDid you paint this yourself?â
âYes, sir.â Hyunjin slinks back into his chair, almost embarrassed that he left the artwork on display. âItâs just a silly hobby of mine.â
âYouâre quite talented. Your art belongs on walls.â
Thereâs a bitterness in Hyunjinâs tone as he replies. âUnfortunately, my art doesnât generate enough income to cover my expenses.â
Chris gives a knowing nod. Heâs met plenty of starving artists throughout the years. Hyunjin doesnât stop him from flipping through the pages of artwork; instead, he continues to fill out more paperwork. There is a range of pieces. Flowers at every stage of life, distinct memories of the places Hyunjin traveled to, and then there are a few faceless couples in various embraces. The man is clearly a romantic.Â
Chris nearly drops the pad when flipping over the next page. Disbelief floods his system. It can not be. There is no way that what he sees is real. It must be a trick. He blinks a few times to assure himself that what is on this page isnât a delusion of a grieving man.Â
There, taking up a full page, is a sketch of you.Â
He runs his fingers over the illustration, tracing the hair that frames your face. The eye shape is the same. Your lips are just as full as he remembers. The sketch includes the brow bone, cheekbones, and even the scar on your chin. Itâs in fact you, his bride. This manâs sketchpad captured his eternal love.Â
Your remains are dust in a grave back in Romania. He left you in the gardens you adored so much. This is not an imagined piece, Chris tells himself. Most of Hyunjinâs drawings donât have distinct features. This is a vivid sketch he drew of you. That means after four hundred years, you have returned to this plane of existence.Â
Itâs confirmed then. You have returned. Now the vampire understands why he is here. You were calling out to him, asking him to find you. That is why he is in London now. It all makes sense. He just has to find you.Â
âLook at me,â Chris commands suddenly. Hyunjin glances up from where he is signing his name to make eye contact. There is a pull on the vampireâs powers as he speaks. âI am taking this piece. You will not miss it. Do you understand?â
The human nods in response. âOf course. Iâd be delighted if you did.â
Chris gently tears the drawing out of the notepad before folding it in half to fit inside his coat pocket. His tone stays calm and collected despite the way there is a fire under his skin lighting up all his nerves. He needs to be alone with this discovery. âThank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hwang. I must take my leave now. You will contact me when you have the other deeds for me.â
âYes, sir.â Hyunjin nods once more, still completely compliant. âIâll send word right away.â
The sun remains tucked behind the buildings of London by the time Chris steps back out into the city. He couldnât care about the list of properties now in his name. Nor the ring of keys jingling in his pants pocket. He should care; each is an anchor for him to travel through. When he needs to slumber or recover his power, he will have locations spread across the country. Â
This also means the vampires he creates will have someone safe to go to. Unlike him, his creations cannot face the sun. The newborns are too young, unable to have the strength to embrace daylight without perishing. If he had one newborn at each of the six properties, it wouldnât take long to find you and where you reside. He even has a starting point in knowing where Hyunjin works.Â
How fortunate he is to be given this fate.Â
Hyunjinâs portrait of you is heavy in his coat pocket. Ever so carefully he pulls the thin paper out to examine again now that he is alone. His eyes are not tricking him. It really is you on this paper, pretty charcoal smile and all.Â
A rush of emotions hit Chris hard enough to almost buckle his knees. He remembers the day he lost you vividly. A nightmare he never escapes. He never should have left you in the castle. How foolish he was not to expect some sort of retaliation from the enemy. Even with his most trusted knights in charge of your evacuation, it wasnât enough to keep you safe.Â
The war seems so childish now. He was summoned to fight the opposers. Ottoman envoys threatened his reign again, trying to remove him from power. He wouldnât give in easily. Not after the death of his father and brother. He avenged their deaths and would continue to squash the enemy like bugs. He was such a loyal servant to God until then.Â
All he asked was for your safety.
If he were going to fight in Godâs name and taint his soul with their deaths, then at least his mighty self could protect you.
Then God abandoned him.Â
No, after years of devotion, God betrayed him.
Chris hauled himself onto the first horse he could reach when hearing word about your evacuation. The beast tried its best to sprint despite the heavy war armor not only on its body but on him as well. No whines or protests came out when he commanded the animal to cut through the woods to intercept your route. He could come from a different angle and take the enemy by surprise if the soldiers followed you. All he had to do was make it to you. Then he could defend you.
The scenery was a blur; sunlight flickered through the leaves like a strobing light. Hooves of the horse barely connected with the ground before pushing off to drive further forward. Chris was certain he could make it. He had to; there was no other option.Â
By the time he made it to the forest edge, he saw your horse go down. The mighty beast you raised yourself was caught in a bear trap in the snow. Poor thing landed in a heap, depositing you in the snow. Its cry was a warning to the three soldiers not too far behind you. Instead of risking their beasts, they were on their feet, swords out and stabbing the snow to disarm the hidden bear traps.
This strip of land was meant for a battle the last time the army rose up. Chris never ordered the traps to be removed. He wanted it to be a safety measure if the opposing side decided to try to sneak around the castle again now that the river had frozen over.Â
Currently, it is a death trap for everyone in the field.Â
âChristopher!â You screamed out, your voice distraught and breathless not only from exhaustion but also from fear.Â
âStay by Berry!â he bellowed out in response. âI will come to you!â
Chris commanded his horse forward. A scapegoat, one to no doubt share the same fate as your horse. An unfortunate causality if it came to it. He didnât care; all that mattered was getting to you. The soldiers moved quicker in response, knowing their chance to assassinate you was slipping out of their fingers.Â
By some miracle the horse under him made it nearly to you. Chris let gravity take him to the ground when he was sent flying from the saddle. The armor on his body would protect him; he had no fear of the traps. He simply rolled until he found his footing. He drew his sword next and charged forward.Â
Steel collided with steel as Chris reached one soldier. Despite how tired he was, the new wave of adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him moving. He had years of combat under his belt. Hell, this was the second war he fought in. Many of the soldiers lack the training to tackle the challenge he is. Enemies spoke of him as a dragon, powerful in his destruction and swift too.
It was not his life on the line; it was yours. Chris pushed through the fatigue to kill the first soldier. He barely had time to breathe before another was on him. His heartbeat pounded in his ribcage and in his ears. It was deafening to the point that he couldnât even hear his own screams.Â
Though he still wasnât fast enough. He wasnât strong enough. By the time he killed the second soldier, the final one was making his way to you. Chris couldnât cross the snow any faster. You didnât even scream. You fought with all of your being, the same when you practiced with Chris for months. Your only line of defense was the blade in your hand, but it wasnât sufficient.Â
Time froze when Chris saw the blade drive into your stomach. The world narrowed to a single point of your frame folding toward the snow, your breath catching in shock. He reached you just as the soldier raised his weapon again. Chris didnât think; he moved. He swung his sword with all of his might, driving his own sword across the manâs neck and taking his head clean off. He didnât care for the spasming body, too busy kicking it aside to catch as you knelt. Blood was seeping out of your wound, turning your beautiful gown a dark shade of red.Â
âNo!â The word tore out of him, raw and shaking. One hand pulled you close; the other pressed against your wound. Chris knew it was fruitless; the snow was staining red under you. Even if he could get you back to the castle, it would be too late. He continued to plead. âStay with me. Please.â
âMy king...â Your voice came out weak. You struggled to keep your eyes open. âI will find you again.â
Chris pressed his forehead against yours. âDo speak such words to me. You will survive. You must! I canât live without you.â
Through his teary eyes, he could see the faintest of your smiles. âPromise me⊠you will wait for my return.â
He opened his mouth to argue, to beg, or to deny the truth, yet your body relaxed in his arms before he could say anything. Your eyes slipped shut, and you were gone. Snuffed out like a candle. The warmth was already beginning to fade.Â
âPlease,â he whispered. âPlease, not you. Not you.â
Chris couldnât move. God wouldnât do this to his most loyal servant. Still, he prayed to the Almighty One. One hour turned into several until his soldiers discovered him frozen in place. It would take three of his strongest to separate him from your body. And even then, he reached for you as if he still believed he could bring you back.Â
That was the day he renounced God. He had dedicated years to this being; he killed thousands in his name, and he swore unwavering loyalty. No more; no longer would he do what God asked. God took the only thing he prayed to be safe during the war. The only thing in this world he cared about.Â
If God didnât listen to him, why would he continue to serve?Â
Rage fueled Chris. There was no exhaustion, no hunger, no thirst. The celebration of the victory didnât reach his ears. He stormed through his recovering city on foot, still wearing his battle armor stained with blood. He marched right up the churchâs steps, through the doors, until he found the one person who could answer his burning questions. The priest claimed to be a messenger for God, and then Chris would test that.Â
âMy wife is dead.â Chris huffed out, still fighting to be civil. âIs he not listening to our prayers today?â
âMy king.â A hand found his shoulder, trying to be reassuring. âGod has his reasons. Itâs not our place to question his plan.âÂ
The calm, collected tone in response may as well be hot tar thrown onto Chrisâ body. He reached for the holy man, grabbing fistfuls of his pristine white robes and hoisting him up onto his tiptoes. He could feel the panicked breath against his face. The words leaving him were venom. âBring her back to me.â
âI cannot, my king!â The same face of fear as the soldiers he killed earlier that day looked back at him. Even this man pleads the same. âHe will take good care of her.âÂ
âBut what about me?â Chris spat out. âHave I not done everything heâs asked?â
More babbling came out, filled with excuses. Chris couldnât accept this as his fate. He wouldnât. His self-control snapped like a fragile twig. Using all of his anger for strength, he shoved the holy man backwards, where the mess of limbs collided with the table of lit candles. Terrified screams broke out as the fabric caught fire.Â
Panicked gasps filled the room from the other priests and the soldiers that followed Chris here. He moves without deliberation, reaching for his sword to unsheathe. Chris drives the blade down through the manâs sternum, trapping the body in place as it continues to burn. This man wonât escape this fate, just like you were forced to endure yours.Â
Itâs then when he stares up at the statue of Christ on the wall. Despite the growing flames, Chris couldnât feel the heat. Not even against the steel of his armor. He kept eye contact with the brown eyes, speaking bitterly. âAre you listening now? I am no longer your servant. Until you return my wife, my soul no longer belongs to you. I will wait until you make this right.âÂ
Chris changed that day. Not just from the grief. No matter how he tried, he couldnât die. God turned his back on him, refusing to let him have that peace to be with you. Even falling from the castle tower, his limbs would take their time knitting themselves back together. He didnât age and didnât need food or water.Â
He simply existed.Â
Though as the years crept on, his human form shifted into a monster. Chris developed a craving for blood. His teeth grew into sharp fangs to ease the process, and he learned he would gain sustenance from the sinful act. Perhaps it was Lucifer himself answering his pleas. The only other person who understood Godâs betrayal.
Fine, he would become a monster. As long as it kept him on this earth. Now here he stands, in London, the very city where you have returned to this mortal realm.Â
A womanâs bright laughter rings out ahead of Chris, drawing his attention. His hand tightens around the folded sketch of your face, and he slips it back into his coat before anyone can glimpse it. He forces himself to focus on the approaching pair.
The first woman is blonde, draped in an elegant red dress that speaks of wealth and a certain carefree confidence. Sheâs amused by something her companion has said; her smile is wide and unrestrained. Chris barely registers her because moving beside her, moving with a grace he remembers too well, is you?Â
Fate is either playing a cruel game, or his deemed punishment is over.Â
You are breathtaking in an emerald gown, walking straight toward him, unaware, unguarded. He has imagined this moment for lifetimes, rehearsing it in dreams and nightmares alike, yet now that you are here, he is utterly unprepared.
He purposely moves too close, deliberately in your path, and you collide with him. You gasp softly, immediately turning toward him with an apology spilling out of you. âOh, Iâm sorry. Please forgive me.â
The sound of your voice nearly turns his limbs into warm wax.Â
âNo, this is my fault, actually.â Chris manages to answer through disbelief at hearing your voice after all this time. He canât think clearly. âItâs⊠lovely to see you again.â
Your brow furrows in confusion. âHave we met before?â
âIn a dream, perhaps. I have a strange feeling weâve known each other for a long time.â
You donât look amused by his charm. If anything, you are wary. Sarcasm is heavy in your tone. âWell, arenât you romantic?â
Inwardly, Chris curses himself. This is not off to a good start. There was no time to prepare. He straightens, trying to gather the remnants of his dignity. After a second, he bowed his head slightly. âPardon me, I seem to have lost my mind and my manners. My name is Christopher Bahng, second prince of Wallachia.â
Chris reaches for your gloved hand; you donât stop him, allowing him to bring your hand up for him to kiss. There for a second, he sees recognition on your face. What did you see? A kiss from a previous encounter? Could it be a memory from when he first met you on the day he requested your hand in marriage? It was all arranged without your consent, yet you were still so excited to meet him.Â
âWell,â you say, gently withdrawing your hand, âitâs a pleasure to meet you.â
Before you can step away, the blonde woman halts you with a hand on your arm. âA prince, you say? And where is Wallachia?â
âRomainia.â
âMy goodness, you are so far away from home.â She answers with a bright smile. âYouâre not lost, are you?â
âNo, not at all. Iâm purchasing a few properties here in London.â
Her eyes lit up. Chris is used to this response when women fall under his charm. âThen you should join us for dinner.â
âI wouldnât want to impose.â
âNo, it's a casual event. Besides, how can you learn more about London if you donât experience it?â The woman looks over to you, giving you a playful nudge. Itâs enough to knock the uneasy expression off your face. You offer her a weak smile, and the woman turns back to him, pleased to have your agreement. âAnd itâs not every day you get to dine with a real prince.â
This is almost too easy, Chris thinks to himself. Still, he plays his role perfectly with his reply. âI would be honored to join such fine company, then, Miss?â
âLucy Westenra,â the blonde replies, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She introduces you as well, giving a modern name Chris knows he will have to force himself to remember instead of the one he whispered to you centuries ago. She gestures toward a restaurant at the corner. âWeâre dining at seven. Just tell the staff youâre with the Holmwood party.â
âI will be there.â Chris offers a charming smile before turning his attention to you. His voice softens. âI look forward to dining with you and Miss Westenra tonight.â
With that, the two of you leave him on the sidewalk. You turn to give him one last look. He would give anything to know what is coursing through that mind of yours. How much do you remember, if at all? He knows he saw recognition on your face. That was real. He reassures himself that he will learn more tonight. You have returned to him, and now he can work on bringing you back into his arms.
Chris arrives at the restaurant a quarter past seven. The goal was not to appear too eager on his arrival. He wanted the party to be seated before he joined the small group to dine. A shy hostess led him through the warm, lamplit dining room to the table where he found four humans sitting.Â
Lucy brightened the moment she saw him. âLord Bahng! You found us.â
He bows slightly. âMiss Westenra, how could I refuse such a charming invitation?â
Next to Lucy, at the head of the table, appears to be Mr. Holmwood. Chris learns a second later through a handshake that his name is Arthur and is Lucyâs current partner. The human has a relaxed heart rate and a brawny arm. He appears unbothered by Lucyâs sudden new guest. Perhaps he is used to her bringing in new people.Â
Chris turns his attention to you. Gone is the emerald dress, now replaced with a dark blue evening gown. You sit straight and proper with Hyunjin beside you. Chris expected some confusion from you both, but Hyunjin appears to be losing color in his face. Heâs not one for mixing business and pleasure, especially when such a hefty bonus is on the line.Â
From where Chris stands, he offers a nod to the young solicitor. âItâs good to see you again so soon, Mr. Hwang.â
Hyunjin blinks, startled by being spoken to. He half-rises from his chair before sinking back down. âLord Bahng, itâs an honor to see you again. What a small world London appears to be.â
âIndeed.â Chris answers, finally taking the empty seat beside Lucy and, more importantly, directly across from you. âWho would have thought I would meet some of your friends today as well?â
Lucy wasted no time conversing. âI was just telling Arthur and Hyunjin how we ran into you today. Then I hear you are working with Hyunjin. I must say, you found the perfect man for the job.â
âHeâs taking care of my affairs wonderfully.â
The words appear to be enough for Hyunjin to relax. Conversations go on as food is ordered. Chris tries to keep his attention on who is speaking to not draw focus on how long he stares at you. He is still in denial that you are here in front of him again. It wasnât a dream or a vision. You are human, smiling and giggling with your friends.Â
Though hearing about your engagement to Hyunjin troubles him. You are not meant for this boring, average human. One who is out of his depth with the business that is falling into his lap. You donât belong in this cramped, dreadfully noisy city. You belong back home, with him, out tending your gardens. He knows you have always been happiest surrounded by nature.Â
Chris is in a tough situation. He could uproot you from this life by force. It would be painful for you, but the isolation would drive you to him. On the other hand, he could compel you into submission.Â
Neither of those options would sit well with him. Though he considers a third path. You fell in love with him once; surely he could do it again. The more he ponders the idea, the more he fancies it. Yes, this sounds the most rewarding for both of you.Â
While Chris was deep in his thoughts, the surrounding conversation shifted to a darker subject. The humans he used for sustenance are being found. Each of the victims was drained of their blood, and the only wounds appear to be two marks on their necks. At first, the group suspects an animal, though that theory is shot down rather quickly with the eccentric history of London.Â
Arthur shakes his head as he speaks. âThe papers are calling it the work of a madman. A serial killer stalking the streets.â
âHow tragic,â Chris says, folding his hands in his lap. His expression is unreadable. âLondon is a great city. However, even the greatest of cities have their darker corners.â
Lucy shivers at the comment. âItâs frightening to think someone could be out there choosing people at random.â
âMonsters often walk unnoticed,â Chris adds softly. âIt is their nature.â
Hyunjin frowns at that, but before he could speak, Arthur clears his throat. He takes Lucyâs hand with a smile. âWell, enough grim topics. We were here to speak about good news.â
Lucyâs cheeks flushed pink as her excitement grew. She canât stop the words spilling out of her. âWeâre engaged!â
An excited noise leaves you, followed by you clapping your hands in delight. The announcement brings you genuine joy. Your smile is wide and just as sunny as Chris remembers. The light it brings even causes Hyunjin to gaze at you with adoration.Â
A wave of bitterness taints the vampireâs mood. He doesnât let it show when he speaks. âMy sincerest congratulations. A union of hearts is a rare and precious thing.â
âWeâre having a celebration in Whitby this weekend with Arthurâs family,â Lucy said. âYou must come.â
If you are here for such an intimate announcement, then you are a close friend to Lucy. Plus, it appears she drags you along regardless of your wishes. If thatâs true, you will be at Whitby to celebrate with her. Then the party would give him another opportunity to see you.Â
Chris gave a low, thoughtful hum. âAs fate would have it, I shall be in Whitby around that time. It would be discourteous to decline such hospitality.â
Lucyâs happiness turns to a deep scowl before she smacks Arthur on the arm. âHow dare you slander me like this?â
âIs it slander if itâs true?â You pipe up with a giggle.
From there, the conversation flows naturally. Chris speaks with practiced charm, weaving stories of Transylvanian landscapes, ancient customs, and curious superstitions. Lucy hung on every word like a curious child desperate for adventure. You and Hyunjin listened with polite fascination. Even Arthur, who appeared skeptical of anything foreign or unusual, seemed drawn in.
Though the longer the meal goes on, Chris realizes your struggle with the celebratory wine. Your face contorts in disgust with every small sip. The vampire fights to keep his chuckle to himself. Even in your new life, you donât enjoy Pinot Noir.Â
The next chance Chris gets, he stops the waiter to order a bottle for the table. Once itâs delivered, he makes you an offer. âWould you like to try this one?â
You freeze momentarily, surprised at Chris speaking directly to you. âUh, this is fine. Iâm just not accustomed to red wine.â
âTry this one then.â He insists, pushing a glass of the straw-colored wine towards you. âIt will pair better with your dish.â
âWhat is it?âÂ
âIt roughly translates to âroyal maidenâ in English,â Chris answers you. âThe grapes in this wine grow in Transylvania and Moldavia in particular. It wonât be as harsh.â
A blush creeps onto your face as the group focuses attention on you. You take a cautious sip, and your surprise is hard to hide. Chris was right; you enjoy it. He moves to pour himself a glass to hide the smugness trying to escape him. Itâs not much interaction with you, yet itâs enough to have him on cloud nine.Â
When the bill arrived later, Chris intercepted it with a graceful flick of his hand. âPlease allow me. It is a joy to share a meal with new friends.â
Arthur protests, though weakly, too lost in the bottom of his wine glass. Hyunjin didnât protest at all. Perhaps still too busy trying to understand how this mysterious man he was working with slipped so seamlessly into his circle. However, Lucy squeezes Chrisâ arm with affection. âYou are too kind to some strangers who bullied you to join us. Iâm glad my intuition was right about you.â
Chris offers a courteous smile. âThe pleasure, Miss Westenra, is entirely mine.â
The alcohol in her system eats up his response. Poor Arthur might have to carry her out. Though she seems coherent enough with her next words. âIâll cover your travel costs to and from Whitby. No arguments, Lord Bahng. Iâll have Hyunjin arrange it with you the next time you meet.â
Today is a success the more Chris thinks about it. He arrived in London, completely lost, unsure why he was called here again, only to find out you have returned to Earth. Four hundred years he waited, and by chance he inserted himself into your little bubble of life.
Fate continues to work out in Chrisâ favor. A letter arrived early in the morning from Lucy. An offer to join her today at a gathering to celebrate the engagement before the trip to Whitby. Nothing too extravagant. Just lunch at her home. Chris couldnât stop himself from attending. Not now that heâs found a foot in the door with you. He needed to see you again, needed to be near you again. The few days apart ate away at him. He canât think about anything else.Â
The first memory that sprang to mind was from a few weeks after your wedding. A huge snowstorm ravaged the castle before winter began. The storm was especially bad; it left powder almost waist-high even in the courtyard. All he wanted was to spend the morning in bed or in front of the enormous fireplace. No responsibilities, just time with his wife. Though he woke to a bed that lacked your warmth. Â
He pulled on his layers, and with a bit of a search, he found you arguing with a steward over the hounds. Chris couldnât fight his smile as you debated with your full chest. Something along the lines of letting the hounds have a bit of fun. The steward looked towards his king for support but found none. Of course he would side with you; these hounds were your pride and joy. You trained each of them from the age of a pup to hunt and fight. Now all you wanted was for them to play and live life to the fullest. Overall, you wanted the animals to experience happiness.Â
Perhaps thatâs why Chris loves you so much. These dogs were larger than wolves; heâd seen one take down a war horse on your command. You had no fear, only confidence in their earned loyalty. You would lay your life down for these beasts. So with word from your king and a triumphant smile plastered on your face, you lead the hounds out.Â
Your giggles filled the otherwise quiet castle. Then a wall of fur, followed by excited yips, barreled past Chris, nearly trampling him. A fate worth a death if it meant he could see the happiness on your face for a lifetime. You were as graceful as a newborn lamb trying to traverse the piles of snow. It didnât matter that you were a queen in this moment. Chris continued to watch from a window, and in that moment he realized you were the secret to completing his life.Â
Now as he steps out into the Westenra Gardens, he is drawn to your giggles once more. Clouds drifted slowly across the afternoon sun, softening the glow above him. The daylight was already weakening him, yet he wasnât worried. Here, all he needed to do was pretend to be an elite socialite. Not much of a role to play when he was an expert at it. His charm came effortlessly, especially among the women.Â
Chris sipped wine, working his way through the people until he managed to worm his way next to you. Today you are donned in a pretty yellow outfit. One of your fingers brushes along a row of roses. âAre you married, Christopher?â
He answers without hesitation. âWidowed.â
âOh, Iâm sorry. Forgive me.â
âNo. Donât apologize.â He kept his voice even; however, the question tugged at old wounds. The sun, the memories, and your gentle curiosity were testing his composure.
âWas it an ailment?â you asked softly.
âA casualty of war,â he said. âThe enemy wished to hurt me because their loss was certain.â
âWas she lovely?â
âShe was the most beautiful creature.â His gaze drifted to the horizon, though he saw only the past. âI saw heaven with her. I keep a lock of her hair sealed in here.â He touched the inner pocket of his coat. âItâs always with me.â
Chris notices the admiration in your eyes. All you want is a lover who is devoted. Itâs what all romantics want. Though the wine in his glass now tastes like pure vinegar. He cannot allow you to look at him in this way. The fight against his self-restraint is taking all of his energy. He shifts the subject abruptly. âI hear you are going to marry Hyunjin. Tell me about him.â
You sighed. âI worry he loves too much.â
âThereâs no such thing.â
You shift the weight on your feet, still playing with the roses. âYou think so? He works so hard. He overextends himself. I worry heâll go mad from the stress.â
âHeâs dedicated,â Chris replies. âHe wants to give you a fulfilling life.â
âWe have a fulfilling life. I want to see him more.â
That comment causes an ache in Chris. You are a human dealing with such a simple emotion. Longing, but to a smaller degree than the vampire in front of you. The very emotion he had felt for centuries. Something he could never allow himself to feel again now that heâs found you. He hates it. You shouldnât have these emotions. Yes, itâs part of being human; however, your past life suffered. He doesnât want you to endure any pain in this life. Itâs selfish, he knows. There is so much more to life that you should be enjoying and experiencing instead of this negativity.Â
Now Chris is upset itâs taken this long to find you. He reassures himself, âThis is all temporary.â He will take you and give you the gift of immortality. Then you can be together. He will take you anywhere you want to go. It doesnât have to be home necessarily. Itâs just going to be as far away from Hyunjin as it can be.Â
âIâm sorry,â you murmured. âYou donât need to hear silly troubles.â
âI donât mind,â he said, and he meant it more than he wished he did. âIâm enjoying your company. Hopefully, you donât mind me taking the liberty of seeking you out. This country is lonely when you donât know it.â
âItâs lonely when you know it.â
Chris hates that answer. Hyunjin might be trying his best to provide a good life for you, but heâs not successful. The sadness in your voice stings worse than a blade carving out his side. His fingers drum against the fragile glass in his hands as his anger bubbles inside of him.Â
The clouds thickened overhead, dimming the sun further. Chris felt the shift immediately. His strength was returning in a slow, dangerous trickle. He straightened unconsciously. He needed to be careful. Restraint and control, he mentally repeats. As much as he wants to act, there are too many witnesses here.Â
âOh, blast.â A surprised gasp from you draws the vampireâs attention. When you reached out to steady a rose, a thorn pricked your finger. From where he stands, he can see a bead of blood forming right on the tip of your finger.
Chris reacts before thinking, moving faster than a man should, far too eager, and producing a handkerchief. He caught your hand, covering the wound before more blood could seep out. However, even just a drop carried the smell to his nose. The scent was a strike to the chest. That one little droplet was luring the beast inside him in.
His grip tightened. He needed to control himself. You were the last person he wanted to harm. Perhaps it was the sunâs doing; it was draining him quicker than he was used to. His nostrils flared despite his will. The hunger surged. An instinctive piece of him, still humiliating, though. He forced his jaw to lock, though his fingers betrayed him again, tightening around your delicate hand.
âChristopher,â you winced. âYouâre hurting me.â
Your voice was a lighthouse in a storm, cutting through the haze. Shame flooded him, dousing him in freezing-cold water to shake him from the stupor he was in.Â
âIâm stopping the blood,â he said too sharply. He hated the edge in his tone. Gentle; be gentle, he reminded himself. He tried to loosen his grip, truly. The instinct to hold you, to keep the blood near, fought him like an ingrained reflex.
She must not fear you. Not her. Never.
You tugged your hand back. âItâs only a scratch. Really.â
Chris released you instantly, stepping back as though distance alone could cage the hunger. He swallowed hard, forcing breath into lungs that did not need it, forcing the monster inside him to heel. He is stronger than this, and he is better than this.Â
âIâm sorry,â you mumbled.
No, he should be apologizing. He needs to beg for forgiveness for that lapse. Anything; he could say anything to help defuse the situation.Â
He doesnât get the chance. Before he could vocalize any type of excuse, Hyunjinâs voice came from across the yard. You turn toward him, relief and affection brightening your face. Chris remains glued to his spot, watching you go to him, seeking that solace away from him.
The glass of wine in his hand shatters a second later, causing the pieces of glass and drink to spill into the roses at his feet. His other hand still held onto the handkerchief, your blood staining the white cloth and still calling out to the monster side of him.Â
Chris needs to leave. He needs to leave now. The chains holding his restraints are starting to break from the pressure. It takes all of his might to weave through the crowds to make it back to his carriage. He needs a moment alone. Just one moment.Â
The handkerchief may as well be a brick in his hand. He can still smell your blood thanks to his heightened senses. Itâs intoxicating and mouthwatering. An opium haze couldnât make him this delirious.Â
The vampireâs strength causes the carriageâs door hinges to screech. The force of the slam damaged a pane in the glass window. A small price to pay, he thinks to himself. He nearly dives into the darkness of the carriage to be free of the sun and finally has that moment of privacy.
His eyes stay trained on the opening, weary of the humans on the property, while he caves to temptation. He brings the bloody fabric to his mouth and sucks to pick up the remnants that he can. Your blood is honey on his tongue. A sweetness that rips an involuntary moan out of him and drives his eyes to roll back.Â
Shame burns under his skin as he sucks on the fabric, chasing more of the taste of you. He needs more. Fresh on his tongue so he can taste it correctly. It wouldnât take much; he would never drain you like the humans he uses for sustenance. Just enough to tame the beast in him.Â
Damn his attraction to you. Even the monster wants you.Â
Is it even the blood he wants?
No, Chris knows the answer to that. Images of your naked body flood him. He groans at how quickly his cock fills out in his pants. There hasnât been anyone over the years. No one to touch or love. He couldnât bring himself to if it wasnât you.Â
He works with minimal struggle to free his cock. His hand strokes himself to alleviate the ache. The handkerchief is still in his mouth as he holds onto the remaining taste of you. What a pathetic sight he would be; he wonders if you would scold him. He misses the days he desired you so desperately and you would play with him like a toy. He would obey every command you demanded if it meant he could have you.Â
Movement from the second floor of the house catches his eye. There, sneaking out onto the balcony, are you and Hyunjin? That damn yellow dress is flattering on you. The swell of your breasts only tempts Chris more. He wants nothing more than to rip it off of you and see you in all your beauty.
Hyunjin appears to think the same. The human kisses you messily, as if he were being rushed. The wine in Chrisâ stomach sours at the sight of how enthusiastic you are. Though his hand still moves along his cock. From where he sits, he can see one of Hyunjinâs hands sneaking under your dress between your thighs. Your head falls back against the wall as pleasure takes its course. He shouldnât be watching, and he definitely shouldnât be getting off to the view. Yet he physically canât stop himself. This is a battle he will lose as you come around someone elseâs fingers.Â
This will be his one moment of weakness. No one will know about it. Then he will sit and plan his next move. He can not continue this idle waiting around. Thankfully, the blood you gave him will help. It may have been a few drops, but itâs enough. He can now sense you and track you as you move throughout the country, and most importantly, his powers will affect you. Possibly, if heâs lucky, he can awaken your memories, and that will help him win you over.
As night crept through London, Chris rose with an ache in his chest. His dreams were playing with him. No, his subconscious was teasing him. It must be from the small amount of your blood he consumed. The entire time, his memories of you danced through his vision. From cute, harmless, loving moments to even heated nights in the bedroom. It was a hurricane of emotions he was struggling to navigate.Â
Now he is on the streets, trying to find a meal to regain his strength. The time spent in the sun to see you made him exceptionally weak. Once he feeds tonight, he can check in on you. He doesnât need creatures to find you. He can do it himself and then satisfy the craving of seeing you.Â
Normally, Chris is mindful when he feeds. Humans are easy to hypnotize; itâs childâs play as he lures his victim down an alleyway. A palm of his is spread widely over the humanâs mouth to keep quiet while fangs sink into their neck.Â
Tonight is different.Â
Tonight he pretends itâs Hyunjin heâs feeding from.Â
This human fights back. Blunt teeth dig into the meat of his hand in protest. Itâs not enough to break the skin or even deter him. Hands flail, nails scrape along the fabric of his jacket, and the body squirms. The human is no match for Chris. A rush of power courses through his body as he bites harder into the thin skin of the neck, straight into the artery. The pressure splatters warm blood against his face and clothes.Â
The monster inside him could almost purr like a satisfied cat.Â
A voice comes from the end of the alleyway. âHey! Let go of them!â
Chris pulls back, allowing the neck wound to spurt warm blood onto the vampire and his clothes. The human who interfered now panics, eyes wide as it takes in the view and gasping like a fish out of water. The second they bolt, Chris is on them. He moves faster and wraps himself like a snake securing its prey. Not even a scream escapes before his fangs sink into any inch of exposed skin. More delicious blood floods his mouth as he drags the human deeper into the alleyway.Â
Three humans end up dying tonight. Chris is careful with the third. He needs an exchange of clothes if he wishes to walk among the people without suspicion. However, the surplus of blood coursing through his system is a lot to process. His body fights to adjust, and he knows what he needs to do.Â
You are a needle in a haystack that is London.Â
He needs to focus and find you.Â
His love, his beautiful princess, and his wife. He canât go home until he finds where you live. Deep down, the pull is there. He can feel it tonight. Itâs the same call that brought him to London. The invisible thread that connects you is finally visible.Â
A spin on his heel, and then the vampire runs.Â
Itâs not a long journey. He was right about your residence being close to Hyunjinâs work. Chris knows itâs a risk to come here. Dawn arrives early, increasing the likelihood of being spotted, but he canât resist your allure.Â
The intent was to go to slumber after he fed.
Now here he stands outside your residence, staring at the open window on the second floor as if it taunts him. The half-drawn curtains are shifting like waves as the light breeze hits. Even from here, he can smell the familiar perfume you wore earlier today. Itâs comforting and making it harder for him to fight his will.
He will slip in just to make sure you are sleeping well, and then he will leave. That way he appeases his desires while managing his ongoing battle of restraint.Â
Except for the moon shining through the window, the bedroom is completely dark. Chris stands to the side, hidden by the curtains, to assess the bedroom. The air was thick with the hush of sleep, broken only by the rhythmic breathing from Hyunjin. He lies sprawled beside you, oblivious to the threat of the vampireâs presence.Â
This was perfect. Chris moves like a ghost, silently coming closer without a creak or groan from the floorboards below his feet. His predatory, razor-sharp eyes instantly focused on the bed where you were lying. Your cheeks are slightly flushed, and your chest rises and falls in erratic waves.
Chrisâ lips curl up into a knowing smirk as he approaches your side of the bed. Even from here, he could sense the heat radiating from you, the subtle scent of your arousal mingling with the florals of your sheets. Leaning closer, he inhales deeply, his gaze tracing the way your body betrays your secret fantasies. Hyunjin still snores softly, unmoving, lost to his exhaustion.
The vampire sinks to his knees and positions himself near your face. His icy fingers hovered inches from your warm skin. Your eyes move behind your lids, your lips parting in another hushed gasp from the dream. His voice comes out a gentle whisper that he lets seep into your subconscious. âMy beautiful bride, what are you dreaming about so passionately? And why is it not me?â
His fingers curl around the edge of the blanket and ever so softly pull the bedding down to your knees, revealing the cotton nightgown you wear. The fabric has gone sheer over the years, showing off the way your body shivers with the cold air against your flushed skin. Your thighs press tightly together, almost in an attempt to alleviate an ache between them. His eyes continue to scan back up, watching the way your nipples harden to little buds, almost begging for his mouth.
âTell me, what pleasures consume you?â
You stir slightly, brows furrowing as if his words tugged at the edges of your sleep. Mercifully, you didnât wake. Chrisâ eyes gleam with dark intent. Just the details. He needs to know the details, and then he will leave. Right through the window he came in, and then he could sneak back underground, where he could plan his next move.
He extended his will, tapping into his powers, weaving himself into the very fabric of your dream. The barriers of your subconscious didnât fight, letting him slip past like a fog slowly moving in around you. There, right in front of him, was the same bedroom. This time, lit by several candles. You lie where you are now, only with parted thighs and the same nightgown bunched at your hips.
A scowl finds its way onto the vampireâs face. Itâs Hyunjin who is here as well in this dream. He rests between your legs, hands roaming over your soft thighs. There is a smile plastered on his face before shifting lower to press a kiss to your pussy. His tongue slips out a second later, lapping greedily at your slick folds. Your body arches, fingers tangling in his long black locks to keep him in place. He groans against your pussy, bringing his lips up to your clit to suck, earning him moans that only echo in your mind.Â
Back in the waking world, your legs shifted again, this time more desperately. A soft whimper escaped your lips. A sharp pain jabs Chris in the stomach; he couldnât watch this scene any longer. He couldnât let you succumb to this sirenâs call. Hyunjin was nothing and certainly not your lover. He would have to remind you of how things were. The pleasure he brought you outmatched any man.
In your dream, the scene shifts. Hyunjinâs form blurs at the edges as Chris lets his influence take hold. You feel an icy hand turn your face to the left. Itâs not Hyunjin in your line of sight; this time itâs Chris. His gaze is hypnotic, beckoning your attention. You canât pull away or resist; only watch as he leans closer to connect his lips with yours. Itâs a demanding kiss; his tongue slips past your lips to invade your mouth. Itâs so possessive, forcing you to taste the lingering iron on his tongue from his victims tonight. This isnât right, yet you still melt into the kiss despite the confusion running through your thoughts.Â
âYou should be dreaming of me,â Chris commands in your mind. âI am the only one who can fulfill your deepest cravings.â
The bedroom shifts around you, changing to an entirely different place. Chris reshapes the dream into the room he used to share with you back home. The sheets are different, as is the plushness of the mattress, and even the candlelight changes to the gigantic fireplace in the room. Hyunjin has faded completely now, replaced by Chrisâ figure. Broad shoulders and a pale, sculpted chest loom over you. Chris takes his time, plush lips placing soft kisses along one of your collarbones inwards to your sternum. He doesnât stop, continuing between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach.
Your back arches off the bed when his hands connect to your hips. His palms arenât as soft as Hyunjinâs. Years of fighting wars have made the skin tougher; itâs not as delicate and holds more scars. The rings on his fingers feel cool against your flushed skin as he trails them down to your thighs to part your legs. Your breathing hitches in the dream as your hips lift instinctively to invite him. He settles between your thighs, not wasting time. His mouth is inches from your pussy. He maintains his eye contact as his tongue runs along the wet slit, savoring the taste for himself.
âYou taste the same.â He says with a throaty moan. âDo you remember how Iâd spend hours here? Right between these thighs. Youâd scream so loud. Iâd walk past the maids, and every one of them clenched their thighs tight, silently begging to be you.â
You silently shook your head, perhaps to say no or to ask him to stop. However, no words came out of your mouth. Not when you are too distracted by the way he licks across your hole, savoring the wetness that leaks out of you. His muscular arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you from moving away. He wants you closer so he can slip his tongue inside you, his nose brushing against your clit.
Faintly, a memory flickers. Itâs quick, splicing between your dream and itself. Itâs you, with Chris in the same position, but this time your hands are tangled in the mess of brown curls on top of his head, holding him in place as you grind yourself against him. You are in complete control, using him selfishly for your pleasure. You taunt him, demanding he make you come, and he simply moans against you, loving the way he is your servant. The prince himself, the soon-to-be king of this castle you are in. He is reduced to nothing more than a royalâs whore, and he would be pleased to die here.Â
In the real world, your body mirrored the fantasy. Your thighs clenched tight as wetness soaked through the nightgown and down to the sheets. Chris remained kneeling by your side, his physical form watching with satisfaction as your chest heaved. Your face twisted in the building ecstasy. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. He whispers, his voice laced with dark amusement. âYou might not remember my touch, beloved. But your body doesnât lie. It knows and craves it even now.â
As your dream peaked, waves of pleasure crashed through you in the vision of his unrelenting mouth. Chris withdrew his influence just enough to let you teeter on the edge. He wanted the echo of his presence to linger in your veins long after the night faded. His teeth ache as he fights the urge to ravish you, have you fully, and come on his cock. It would be effortless; he could take you now, right next to Hyunjin. He wouldnât stop until all your tension melted away, and you felt spineless.
Though he shall wait. Heâs influenced enough tonight. This should tip the odds in his favor. You remembered him. Somewhere deep in that brain lies all of your past life. He just needs to find the right keys to free the memories. His plan is working. Tomorrow he will see you again, and he will awaken you. His one and only love, his stunning bride, will soon be back in his arms.
There is a flourishing market in Whitby. The town is not as bustling as London, though Chris enjoys the lack of chaos. He finds himself people-watching and relishing being in the same space. Even the monster in him is quiet for the time being.Â
Though when Chris turns the corner, a hint of familiar florals catches his attention. There, at the cafe across the street, sits a face heâs excited to see. He was right about Lucy dragging you to Whitby as well. However, from where he stands, he only notices one cup of tea at the table where you sit. You are alone.Â
Chris crosses the empty street, a smirk on his face. âI wasnât expecting a familiar face until tonight.â
You look up from your book, and your face flushes at the sight of him in front of you. Are flashbacks of your dream playing in your mind right now? Are you recalling how vivid it was? How good it felt to have your husband rather than that excuse of a man between your legs. You must be judging by the way you shift to press your thighs together. Chris fights to keep his composure. He has to refrain from speaking about it.Â
He comments on your lack of greeting. âHave I done something to upset you?â
âNo,â you say, shaking your head while closing your book. âIâm sorry. Itâs just warm, and I was lost in my book.â
âItâs quite alright; we all love an adventure.â Chris motions to the empty seat across from you. âMay I join you?â
You nod, using the moment to take a sip of your drink to help calm yourself. Chris can hear the way your heart skips a beat. Your gaze never meets his. Itâs not fear per se; maybe itâs confusion. There is an unease to your behavior, a subtle way you are shrinking to appear smaller. Perhaps the dreams plus your last interaction are causing this.Â
Chris speaks to make amends if that is the case. âIâm glad I found you. I wanted to apologize for how I acted in the garden with you. You see, I donât react well to blood, so I panic even if I donât need to.â
âOh,â you say with slight confusion before remembering. âItâs no big deal. I had already forgotten about it. Lucy is the same way, so I understand.â
Then it is the dreams that are causing this battle for you? Is that pure little soul of yours challenged with feeling something for a different man? Chris hopes this is the case. The bond of affection is stronger between two lovers, and that beautiful dream showed off how your body knew him. No, your body longed to be touched so intimately by him after all these years. Now itâs just your mind trying to catch up.Â
âChristopher, may I ask you an absurd question?â
Itâs so curious how the people around him call him with proper titles, but you donât. Maybe old habits endure a lifetime. Chris offers a small smile. âGo ahead.â
âDo you ever think you are in the wrong lifetime?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âMy whole life has been filled with flashes. Images of a different time. The pull is overwhelming.â
You feel the bond. Itâs confirmed and not one-sided. Chris is on the right path, then. He just needs to give you enough to awaken more of your memories. Thatâs all it would take to bring you back into his arms. He doesnât have to use force. He can achieve your love how he wants to.Â
Chris reaches over to place a hand over yours; itâs gentle and cautious to leave enough room for you to pull away. He is being bold here. Especially if Lucy or Hyunjin is nearby and could ruin this moment. You are in such a fragile state of confusion; he needs to try to guide you in the right direction. He speaks calmly. âPerhaps itâs a past life trying to communicate with you. I think you should embrace the visions. Let them tell you the story theyâre desperately trying to show you.â
For the first time in this meeting, you make direct eye contact. Chris watches the way your pupils are searching his. Are you searching for lies? Trust? You sit up straighter, still not moving your hand away. âWhy did you seek me out? Be honest.â
Chris can never lie to you. He does what you ask. âYou look so much like my wife. Itâs hard not to be around you. Though Iâm trying to be respectful.â
âIâm not your wife.â You mumble.Â
âAre you convincing me or yourself?â
Silence falls between you guys. The tension is thick, similar to the fog that moves in when a storm comes in. You are fighting the connection, the pull drawing you to him. It could be because of Hyunjin. Chris doesnât doubt you have true feelings for this man. He is just not who you are intended to be with. It will take time to break you of his charm. Though the vampire is confident in his progress.Â
Your hand pulls away at the sound of an familiar voice joining the table. âLord Bahng! You made it to Whitby!â
âOf course, Miss Westenra.â Chris answers, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. âI couldnât waste your generosity.â
âSo you will show up tonight then?â
âI will be in attendance.â Chris rises from his seat to offer it to the human. âThough please sit. I need to take my leave.â
âIâll grab another chair. You should stay.â
âWith sadness, I regretfully decline.â Chris slightly bows. âI was on my way to an appointment with a merchant, and I was simply saying a greeting in passing. I will see both of you beautiful ladies tonight.â
Lucy takes the offered seat, a playful scowl on her face. âYou are off the hook for now. Though tonight you will keep us company.â
âDonât worry, Miss Westenra, you can show off this prince all you wish tonight.â
Chris doesnât miss the way you roll your eyes. Still, you stare at your best friend with fondness as she expresses her giddiness. When the time comes to it, separating you will be a challenge. A thought he will sit on as he takes his leave. He hasnât thought about bringing two women back to the castle. She is your favorite companion; maybe he should.Â
So many thoughts run through the vampireâs mind.Â
Itâs just a matter of what will he do?
As more guests arrived tonight, you finally escaped the confines of being chained next to Lucy. The woman of the hour was accepting words about her engagement, and it was the perfect opportunity to speak to you alone. Chris found you in the study across the house. It was quiet over here; the music from the party was faint, almost outshined by the cackling of the wood in the fireplace. Your glass of champagne was empty, resting on a table while you stood by a window, observing the grounds.
âHow exhausting it must be to be the best friend.â Chris said, his voice low, almost amused.
âLucy has the energy of ten racehorses,â you reply, still focused on the view. âIâm surprised you showed up. You hardly seem the sort for engagement parties.â
âNo,â he agreed. âHowever, I find myself drawn to a certain company.â
You turn then, and there is a dusting of warmth along your cheeks. The alcohol Lucy forced on you appears to be working through your system. Though he wouldnât lie, Chris hoped his words were the real reason you were flushed.Â
You didnât comment on his attempt to flirt. Instead, you redirect. âForgive me for asking, but Iâm curious. What did you buy at the market today?â
A faint smile appeared, more fond than his typical friendly mask he wore in front of the humans. âA memory. Or rather, a piece of one.â
He crossed the room with unhurried ease, pulling out a small case from his jacket and placing it upon the table next to your glass. âThere was a song,â he continued, almost absently as he opened it. âMy wife was fond of it. It played often in the halls of our home.â Carefully and respectfully, he ran his fingers over the old phonograph cylinder. âI came across it again today. I could not leave it behind.â
âA song?â you asked, quieter but still curious.
âWould you like to hear it?â
You hesitated only a moment. âYes.â
Chris moved over to the phonograph in the room and carefully inserted the cylinder. The horn crackled faintly as he set it in motion. A melody came out that was hauntingly beautiful. The vampire pivoted to observe your reaction.Â
âI know this.â You murmur to yourself. Your eyebrows drew together as you pondered. âI shouldnât, but I do.â
âClose your eyes,â he whispered. Chris continued to watch you, taking in every flash of recognition. âDo not think. Truly listen.â
There was hesitancy from you. You didnât trust him. Still, you obeyed. For the first time since he met you in London, he felt a surge of optimism. Would this music be the missing piece? Could this moment be the key that finally unlocks your memories?Â
The vampire tapped into his powers. He wanted to see what images appeared behind your eyelids. Perhaps he could even supply the memories if it were needed.Â
You were no longer in the sitting room. Images blurred until the castle manifested in your memory. There were stones beneath your feet, cool and worn smooth by the centuries. The air was richer with a hint of roses that you had picked in the morning. Then there was laughter. It was your laughter, echoing around the castle as you danced to the music. Chris could see you spinning.Â
Dancing.
He was there, watching from the corner as if you were the only other person in this world. One of his fondest memories. That was the moment when he realized you were his happiness. His entire world was unconsciously swaying to the rhythm, allowing her skirts to glide across the floor. The look of genuine joy on your face made his heart flutter. The next chance that opened, Chris stepped forward to draw you close to him, allowing himself to forget all of his troubles.Â
The setting shifted. Now a bright sunny day is over your garden. You sat in the middle, fingers weaving flowers into a crown. His voice was quieter there and indulgent as he allowed you to place it upon his head. You looked so satisfied that a king would humor you.
Again, the scene changed. This time snow is falling beyond the tall windows. You sat watching the hounds be released in the courtyard. The dogs were bounding through the fresh powder as they played. You laughed again, amused at their innocence. When you turned your head, Chris was beside you; your breath caught in that moment, right before a kiss.
Your eyes flew open, pulling Chris out of your mental vision. He didnât even realize he crossed the room to you. There was barely any space between you two now. You let out a small gasp in surprise.
âWhat did you see?â he asked, his voice an urgent whisper. âDid you see the gardens you used to run through?â His gaze searched yours. He needed to hear it from your lips. Just some kind of confirmation that you remember. âHow about the rooftop where you would name the stars for me? Or are the hounds playing in the snow because you know how much they love it?â
âI didnât see anything,â you said quickly, stepping back. The spike in your heart rate betrayed you. âIt was just music.â
âLook me in the eye if youâre going to lie.â
You held his gaze. There was a war battling inside you. Lying was never a strong suit for you. This was evident not only in your previous life but also in the current one. Chris received the confirmation he wanted when you finally admitted it. âThe garden. I saw the garden.â
A small, triumphant smile threatened to curl his lips up. âWhat else?â
âI made you a flower crown.â You said, stepping closer to him. âYou pretended to hate it.â
âI did not pretend,â he whispered. âI despised it. You were always putting flowers in my hair.â
âYou wore it anyway.â
âFor you, my beloved wife.âÂ
Silence filled the room, and even though he didnât require air to breathe, the tension was suffocating. There were eggshells under the vampireâs feet. You were in such a fragile state. The scales were tipping in his favor. You just needed gentle guidance from him. âWhat else did you see?â
Your breath trembled when you spoke. âYou kissed me.â
âThink harder on that memory,â Chris suggests. âDid I kiss you?â
âNo, I kissed you.â
He waited, curious to see your next move. You stepped forward again; the space between you was gone. Your racing heart was beating against his chest cavity. This was of your own free will. He didnât compel you. Your hand raised, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness he remembered. He leaned into it before he could stop himself.
Centuries.Â
Four centuries he waited for this. It wasnât a trick. It wasnât God finding another way to hurt him. You were here, alive and well, touching him as if no time had passed. His one true love finally came back to him. He endured so much suffering. All he had to do was make you his again. Surely it would happen; you have now seen the truth.Â
What he didnât expect after your hand pulled away was the kiss. You slotted your lips against his with no hesitation. This was a kiss of confidence, not some new discovery. He let you take control as he always did, your tongue slipping past his lips to explore and mingle until you needed air.
He only gave you a breath before he was on you. This time, his kiss was aggressive; he could no longer hold himself back. His hands came to your face, steadying you before prodding your lips with his tongue. Similar to him, you gave him permission immediately.
A rush of emotions hit him. There would be no way to express everything he went through. He didnât have the words, but he hoped this kiss explained it. His grief, the pain, and his love over the centuries were bundled up to form hope. Now he was exposed like a wound to you, the only person in the world whom he could be vulnerable to.
Then something inside you snapped.
Chris could feel the confusion twisting his face as the sound of your panicked breaths filled the room. You continued to step back, putting more space between you as if it could undo what just occurred. âNo,â you said, more to yourself than to him. âNo, this isnât right.â
His gaze darkened, upset at such an accusation. Through all that concentration on his restraint, he doesnât hold back his words. âI have done nothing that was not already within you.â
âThat isnât true.â
âIsnât it?â he pressed, taking one step forward. âYou felt it and you remembered. You kissed me.â
âI made a mistake,â you said sharply, though your voice wavered. âAnd it wonât happen again.â
Silence settled again as the music from the phonograph died out. Chrisâ jaw tightened as frustration blossomed inside the vampire. He never wanted to force you. This damn human was blocking your love. He had waited centuries. He had endured loss, loneliness, and the hollow ache of immortality. And now, as you finally stood before him again, you were slipping through his fingers.
âYou are running from the truth,â he mumbled.
âAnd you are trying to rewrite mine!â You shout back, your voice cracking while tears fall from your eyes. You moved past him, stumbling toward the doorway as if you couldnât get away fast enough. âStay away from me, Christopher. Do you hear me? Stay away.â
He didnât move. For a brief second he saw remorse on your face. Could you see how cruel your words were? The burning of his longing was now sharper, right through his undead heart. Instead of comforting him, you fled before he could say another word. Chris wasnât sure how much longer this cat-and-mouse chase could go on. Four hundred years weighed heavily on his shoulders. And now, with the sensation of your kiss lingering on his lips, he is being driven to his limit.
Chris remained on the balcony long after you left, trying to settle the war of emotions inside him. He couldnât return to the party in this state. He would kill everyone in the room. So he waits, as he always has, letting the storm inside him settle. The music from the party still seemed to cling to his ears despite the distance. Partygoers are rowdier now itâs longer into the night. Alcohol continues to be served, filling their bellies with a warmth that soothed all their worries.Â
âLord Bahng,â Hyunjin said, steady but tight. âWe need to speak.â
There is a brief pause between them. Then Chris turns slowly, his expression far too composed. Not a hint of anger on his face. âMr. Hwang,â he replies smoothly. âI wondered how long it would take.â
The vampireâs eyes flicker something dangerous at the mere mention of you. Hyunjin is walking on paper-thin ice, poised to break under even the slightest pressure. The world will engulf him entirely. He doesnât even know the wolfâs den heâs walked into. This pathetic little bunny, plopping himself in the beastâs mouth.
âYou lingered too close,â Hyunjin continued, bottom lip trembling. Heâs not one for confrontation. This poor lover is trying to find his backbone. Both of his hands were trembling from the nerves coursing through him. His voice fares no better despite his struggle to appear collected. âThe way you spoke to her⊠she didnât like it. Iâm asking you, respectfully, please stay away from her.â
Tick, tick, tick. The heart rate spiked faster again as the silence stretched between them. Chris can see it beat under his clothes, through his skin. Blood pumping faster and faster, even the best orchestra would struggle to perform with such a beat. Itâs deafening on this balcony, completely blocking out the party down the hall. The solution to all his problems is calling out to him; the vampire just needs to make a move.
Chris tilts his head slightly, studying Hyunjin. Not as a man studies another in the stakes of a fight, but as a predator measures its prey. He repeats Hyunjinâs words in a question. âStay away?âÂ
Hyunjin held his ground. âYes.â
A faint smile curved Chrisâ lips, though it did not reach his eyes. His reply comes out softer, a murmur. âHow curious? That you would presume to place yourself between us.â
âThere is no us,â Hyunjin shot back. âShe is not yours.â
There it is, the impressive sound of the ice shattering beneath Hyunjinâs feet. Completely unaware of the danger heâs in. He canât go back to shore, and no one can help him; he can only try not to drown. Can this human swim? He canât fight a wolf. Not this pathetic excuse of a man.Â
The air shifts around them; the clear night sky is no more as clouds move in. Chris canât stop his powers. His rage is finding an outlet the safest way it can. Itâs chaos behind him; he can feel the static from the lightning ready to strike Hyunjin down. Thunder crashes loudly, a strength that shakes the buildingâs foundation. Chris moves then, not quickly, still maintaining a deliberate grace that makes Hyunjinâs pulse spike again despite himself.
âYou speak as though you understand her,â Chris says, his voice low and controlled. A hint of a tremble at the edges. âAs though you have earned the right.â
âI care about her,â Hyunjin said. âAnd I wonât let anyoneâŠâ
âI appreciate you looking out for her,â Chris interrupts, the words suddenly sharp, his restraint cracking, âkeeping her safe until I found her.â
Confusion finds its way on Hyunjinâs face. He has no time to react more than that, though. Chris was in front of Hyunjin in an instant. The human flinched at such a movement. It was so swift, far too quick for a man. He blinked and felt a strike on his chest, driving him back against the wall. The remaining breath left Hyunjin in a rush as stiff fingers closed around his collar.
âDo you think this gesture is a showing of kindness to me?â Chris hisses, his composure gone now, his emotions raw and furious rising in its place. âTo keep her from me? To stand where I have endured four hundred years of longing to be again. Where I have waited...?â
Hyunjin struggled, clawing at Chrisâ wrist. He couldnât free himself. It was impossible. He would need the strength of a hundred men to pry this iron grip apart. Air was struggling to find his lungs. He choked out his words. âSheâs not something you can claim!â
Chrisâ eyes burned with a wildfire consuming a forest. There was hurt, rage, and something animalistic twisting together. His voice was breaking, shifting to something feral and desperate. A rabid dog ready to kill. âYou have touched her life so easily. While IâŠ?â
His words came to a halt. There was a snap in Chris. Hyunjin witnessed it occurred. It wasnât in a metaphorical sense, but here in real life, in front of him. A thread that had been pulled too tight and was finally breaking. The grip shifted. His face dipped closer, and in the crack of vivid lightning, Hyunjin saw that this person in front of him was no man. He was a creature. Fully elongated fangs peeking past his lips. For a brief, terrible second, Hyunjin saw the rage change to hunger.
âWhile I have been denied.â Chris finished, barely above a whisper.
The bite was sudden. A sharp, violent, searing pain in Hyunjinâs throat. He had no air left to cry out for help. His body tensed, hands clawing at the creatureâs shoulders. The strength holding him there was unyielding. He would die here; he was sure of it. There would be no way to stop the inevitable or to prevent Chris from finding you. Tears burned his lash line as his mind lingered on the cruel image of you dead at his feet, blood staining your clothes and your neck shredded by this monster.Â
This endless, dreadful moment continued on. The sound of the vampire swallowing his life force was all that remained of the world around them. Hyunjin could feel death coming for him. It was ice cold, starting at his extremities and drifting its way up to where his blood was exiting him.Â
Then, just as abruptly as he attacked, Chris pulls away. Hyunjin collapses forward, falling to his knees, his breath ragged. One hand clamps onto his neck as if it could stop the remaining blood from leaving him. He doesnât have much blood left.
Chris stepped away, chest rising and falling. Not from effort, but from something far more erratic. Hyunjin recognized remorse briefly flashing across his face. After that, it vanished. As he spoke, the fangs affected his voice. âAfter tonight, she is no longer yours. You may believe you are protecting her, but tonight you will be reborn.â His gaze dropped briefly to the mark on Hyunjinâs throat. âI will remake you like God does with his creations. She wonât have you once she sees what I will make you do.â
Hyunjin didnât answer. He couldnât. One slow blink, then another. His vision blurred as his mind swam around, lost in the depths of worry. There was no fight when Chris approached him again. No resistance when his mouth was pried open. There was a metallic taste on his tongue flowing down his throat. Hyunjin couldnât stop it, couldnât prevent whatever this vampire was planning. All he could do was accept as he mentally prayed for his God to protect you from this evil.
Every vampire Chris makes is tied to him. A dog on a leash. An ant in a colony. One that he can control and use as a tool for his agenda. Hyunjin is no exception; he is a pawn that will be the force that drives you into Chrisâ arms. The newbornâs disappearance from the engagement party in fact benefited Chris. A few of the men invited left with Arthur to head down the road to the pub. There was some debate regarding the menâs celebration of the engagement and a womanâs right to gossip. In the sunroom, which was still warm from the setting sun, the women got together. However, Lucy still hasnât returned with the fresh bottle of champagne she promised.Â
Chris is perched on the stableâs roof, watching you pass each large window, searching the floors of the house. His eyes flicker up to the bedroom, where Hyunjin and Lucy are. This is a disaster unraveling, and yet Chris canât find the strength to stop the damage from happening.
âLucy?â Your voice rings out from the top of the third floor. âMy gods, have you drunk so much that you have fallen asleep? You have guests here!â
Chris could see your entire demeanor shift as you passed each window as you got closer. You paused at the cracked bedroom door. Your nose scrunched up at the strong copper smell that had a hint of decay beneath it. Your breathing changed as fear crept in. You called for her once more, softer this time. âLucy?â
The door opened wider. There was no stopping anything now. Right there, in the middle of the room, Lucy lay sprawled across the bed she shared with Arthur. Her pale throat exposed, her golden hair fanning out like silk over the bedding. Her arm hung limp over the side, fingers grazing the floor. She was still as a statue, eyes wide open. Then you could see someone bent over her.Â
âHyunjin?â His name spilled out of your lips before you could stop it.Â
Hyunjin smiled, a wide expression of happiness showing off his long, sharp fangs caught in the candlelight. âDarling, Iâm so happy youâre here.â
âWhatâŠ?â Your hand flew to your mouth. âWhat have you done?â
Hyunjin blinked, as if the question confused him. He glanced down at Lucy, as though noticing her for the first time. He muttered. âOh, her.â
The newborn didnât elaborate. Instead, he climbed off the bed, trying to close the distance between you. Your eyes widened seeing more of Lucyâs blood coating the front of his pretty lilac shirt you buttoned for him a handful of hours ago.Â
âDonât,â you said, your voice shaking. âDonât come any closer.â
âI would never harm you,â he said quickly, desperately. âNever you. You must believe that. Everything Iâve done⊠itâs been for you.â
âThis is madness.â
âNo, darling, this is a gift. He gave me a gift!â Hyunjin insisted, taking another step forward. âI will share it with you. Weâll all be together. You will never leave me. Weâll never be parted again.â
âWho did this to you?â
âLord Bahng. Oh darling, itâs such a wonderful feeling.â Hyunjin let his eyes flutter shut before smiling wide. âI can hear so much. The way your heart is strong, calling out to me.â
âHave you been killing those poor people in the streets?â You ask, stumbling back. Your back hits the doorjamb, though the pain doesnât register through the shock. âThen coming and lying next to me as if you were not a damn murderer?â
Hyunjinâs mouth parts to answer, though no words come out. Chris tightens his fist, causing the newbornâs throat to stop producing any noise. Hyunjin is a perfect puppet following commands. The lack of an answer drives your fear higher, and this is what he wants. Be afraid of Hyunjin. Run, run as far away from this creature as you can. Then come seek out the one you want answers from.Â
Chris takes his leave only when he sees you bolt through the house for help. Hyunjin doesnât move, still rooted in place with Lucy. What happens to the solicitor now doesnât matter. Not when the purpose of his existence is fulfilled.Â
How peculiar, though, that you donât run straight to staff in the house. Hell, you donât even run down the street to Arthur. No, Chris can hear your desperate sprinting behind him, heading straight for him. The corners of his lips threaten to curl up as satisfaction courses through him.Â
Soon.
A part of Chris weighs heavily on the consequences of his actions. You drew a line in the sand, and he crossed it to release true horror. Now, looking back, he should have taken you. If not, when you left the restaurant, then the night when he stood in your apartment. He had the perfect opportunity. It would have been easy to grab you, compel you to behave, and then steal you away. He could be halfway across the Black Sea by now.Â
Though he is a selfish creature. Not everyone has the chance to have their soulmate fall for them a second time. His plan was working. Just another little push and you would have been his. If only he could have handled the anger Hyunjin prodded out of him. Â
Hyunjinâs transformation was surprising the city. Every news source was covering it, and the police had already tied him to the nine other deaths throughout the city. It was almost too easy for Chris to get away with his actions. He would be able to take you away quietly without a spotlight on him.
He didnât even need to find you.
You came to him.
Chris doesnât move from where he sits, eyes trained on the door. Not even a second later, the hinges in the old oak door creak when it opens, and you slip through the opening. Your heartbeat pounds from an elevated heart rate. Chris assumes, with the way you struggle to calm your breathing, you ran all the way here. In the middle of the night, no less.
âWhy did I know you were here?â You say, stopping just shy of the desk. âIâve never even visited this far south before.âÂ
âBecause your soul is bound to mine.â
âI donât believe you.â
The vampire sits up straighter, a hint of annoyance in his voice. âWhy are you still fighting the impossible? You felt our connection when you kissed me.â
âNo, IâŠâ
âYou did!â Chris presses on, rising from his seat. âSo willingly to kiss me too. And not out of fear.â
âThatâs not true!â
His head tilts to the side, gaze holding yours. âThen why does it linger? Why do you dream of it? If not because you were made for me?â
Your lack of a response betrays you. Despite Lucyâs death being fresh in your mind, you still focus on the flashbacks. Chris tapped in but refused to influence. He wanted you to experience everything, from the fragments of your time together to the feelings that blossomed in your past life. Your dreams this last week did more work than Chris could have wished for. Now even though you are awake now, the strange, aching familiarity is back, and you canât explain it away.Â
âIt is waking,â Chris says more to himself than you. âPiece by piece. Just as I knew it would.â
âWhat is?â
âWho you were,â he said simply, now sauntering around the side of the desk to close the distance between you. âBefore this small, borrowed life. Before time buried you away from me.â
âNo!â You shook your head, backing away. Again, it was a cat-and-mouse game; you wanted to keep him an armâs length away. âNo, you donât get to twist this into some fantasy to excuse what youâve done.â
âExcuse?â he repeated, somewhat amused. âI have no need to excuse myself.â
Your anger flared again at the smirk that appeared on his face. âThen answer me this question: if you love me, if any of these feelings are real, then why would you hurt me like this?â
Those words made him pause. Not out of guilt. He does not feel guilt for his actions. Not for you or the casualty of Lucy. Certainly not for what he did to Hyunjin. He took the moment to consider how he wanted to respond. There is a piece of this puzzle that he hid from you. When he mentally agreed to not hurt you, the plan was to protect you the best he could. However, he broke that promise last night. Yes, because he lost control and will make up for it over as many lifetimes as he needs to. Though, how far would he go with this hurt he brings you? Should he reveal everything he learned during his time in London? He could either protect your image of Hyunjin or he could shatter it.Â
âHurt you,â he whispered. âOr reveal the truth?â
Chris walked back to the desk. He reached for a leather-bound sketchbook he found the night he entered your apartment. He had no plan on snooping through Hyunjinâs belongings. Though seeing how much effort Hyunjin went to hide it only made him curious. He was unaware of how damning it would be. Now Chris extends his hand out to you, offering you to take it.
Cautiously, you walk up, expecting some sort of trap. Chris motions for you to continue, a scowl etched on his face. He can no longer look you in the eye. The plan was to keep the sketchbook as evidence to incriminate Hyunjin. There was no reason for you to ever see it.Â
Your hand reaches for the lacing of the sketchbook, slowly unknotting the loose leather straps. Every so carefully, you peel back the cover, revealing Hyunjinâs name and date inscribed in his handwriting. Then there are the pages of art that follow.
Chris bites his tongue when he hears your breath catch. Soft sobbing follows with each page turn. He was surprised when he scanned through. Every single page held different pieces of Lucy. It started out so harmlessly, so innocently. A few of the sketches were of her face, showcasing different expressions. Then Hyunjinâs restraint slipped, leading to riskier posed drawings with less clothing. The final few pages of the drawings were of her body, completely bare, in the middle of numerous sexual acts.
These were fantasies of a man in love, and not with you.
The vampire finally turns his gaze to you when you reach the end. A folded piece of paper rests on the final drawing. With shaky fingers, you examine the letter. There, in Lucyâs handwriting, was something never spoken to you. Lucy was refusing Hyunjinâs advances, stating she was in love with Arthur and how dare he risk losing you. You were a prize to be earned, and heâs lucky she didnât reveal the truth.Â
âI never wanted to hurt you. Iâm sorry you had to find out this way.â Chris says, taking slow steps toward you. âYou were never his. Not in the way you imagined.â
âA second choice,â you say softly, yet there is bitterness in your words. âNo doubt so he could stay close to her.â
Tears continue to run down your cheeks. Your fingers tremble while folding the letter back up and closing the sketchbook. The news is a lot to take in, Chris knows, but now itâs all in the open. Perhaps this letter seals the deal for you. Hyunjin is now a monster that matches the one inside of him.Â
âHyunjin,â Chris spoke up, almost idly, as though discussing something trivial. âHe was always weaker than you believed. I gave him the fate he deserved.â
âAnd Lucy?â
Chris watches your jaw tighten. Anger radiates off you with the heat of the sun.Â
Lucy was nothing more than a casualty. A consequence of Hyunjin's. Lucy was mortal, and mortals can break. Did he expect Hyunjin to drain her dry? Yes, though he doesnât have to reveal that to you.Â
âYou have lost everything tonight,â Chris says while reaching for the sketchbook. He tosses it to the side so he can grasp your trembling hands. The touch is gentle, but his words are not. âThe man you trusted has become something else. Your friend stands at the edge of death, and yet, instead of getting her help, you came to me.â
âFor answers.â
âFor me,â Chris corrects. Your teary eyes meet his, and the fight you mustered up is a crumbling sandcastle. He runs his thumbs over your knuckles as a form of comfort. It used to work when you were nervous. Hopefully, it helps you now. If not, then maybe his offer will. âMy beautiful bride, Iâm sorry it took me so long to find you. If you would allow me, I can show you the memories plaguing you are real.â
âChristopherâŠâ
His chest aches at how fragile your voice sounds. He needs to do something to help you. âLet me awaken you. Itâll take the pain away.â
Gears are shifting in your head. What other choice do you have? Your best friend is dead, and the man you loved is a monster who killed her. Now this magnetic force bringing you to Chris is too powerful to fight anymore. Cave, and accept peace.Â
This will be your decision.Â
Fresh tears well up along your lash line. âDo you promise to make all the pain go away?â
âI have never lied to you. Not in your last life nor this one.â
Chris pulls on your hands to draw you closer. You donât resist, not even when he encourages you to place your hands on his clothed chest. One hand finds your chin, tilting your head to the side. There is such beauty in your submission. Itâs a blind trust being given to him. Itâs almost reminiscent of a personâs faith. You are putty in his hold. Now he gets to play God and create you in his image. You will be reborn with the same gift of immortality. Chris had hundreds of dreams about turning you, and now the grand moment is upon him.Â
Using his other hand, he brushes your hair away to expose the expanse of your neck. Your pulse pounds under the skin, calling out to him. The vampire leans down to where the pulse strikes strongest. There is a faint hint of floral perfume still lingering on your skin. It almost reminds him of summers back home. Soon, Chris thinks to himself. He can bring you home once he turns you.Â
Heâs gentle when piercing the skin; heâs not here to feed or to kill. He needs to drain enough to allow his blood to take over your bloodstream and begin your transformation. Though every one of your soft whimpers right in his ear causes his dick to twitch in interest. Now isnât the time to get riled up, but he wonât forget how beautiful of a sound it is.Â
Chris retracts his fangs when he feels you grow limp in his hold. Your heartbeat has slowed as you dance on a fragile edge of consciousness. While adjusting his hold on you, he brings a wrist to his mouth. He bites deep into his flesh to create a wound that wonât heal right away. When heâs satisfied, he brings the welling-up blood to your lips. âDrink, beloved. Your pain is almost over.â
There is no resistance. He lets the blood spill past your lips and into your system. Gradually your strength returns with greed. The vampireâs blood is addictive as it works through your body. The clingy hands gripping his shirt move to his wrist to keep him against your lips. Your blunt human teeth dig into his wounds, trying to urge more blood out. Chris canât help his satisfied smile. Heâs proud of your eagerness, and he will give you as much as your heart desires.Â
With you being sired to him, he can alter your human memories. He will remove the pain of Lucy. He will change your harsh reality of Hyunjinâs fate. A peace offering for what you endured tonight because he couldnât control his anger. You will leave this country thinking the two are alive and well. The truth will never reach you. By the time you are fully transformed, the only two thoughts will be your hunger for fresh blood and your maker.Â
How things should be.
For the first time in centuries, the castle is a home again. The grand chamber is growing warmer with the wood that burns in the fireplace. Chris takes his time lighting the candles throughout the room. Shadows dance across the stone walls as the flames flicker. You sway in the middle of the room, your eyes shut, lost in the haze of the playing music.Â
Your voice comes from the middle of the room; a hint of annoyance is present. âCan I finally have my king?â
Chris keeps his back to you, shaking the match in his hand to extinguish the flame. âForgive me for wanting you to be comfortable. I thought you loved romance.â
âAnd Iâm waiting to experience that so-called love.â
âOh beloved, Iâm about to worship you.â He answers, spinning on his heel to face you. He canât stop the smirk from forming on his lips as the frustration grows within you. To you, he wasnât going fast enough. He could have used his powers and lit the candles in one flick. Perhaps thatâs where he is selfish. After all this time, he wants to take this moment to appreciate you being back with him.
With the match discarded, Chris saunters over to you. There is no heartbeat pounding in your chest, yet the way your body tenses speaks volumes. The anticipation is consuming you. He has barely touched on the journey home. Only safe, comforting touches of reassurance. It was a challenge for him, though he didnât want to overwhelm you. You were already processing plenty of information when he awakened your memories by gifting you immortality. You might as well have a new body with your heightened senses. It seemed unjust to not give you an adjustment period.
Chris reaches for the laces on the front of your gown. His fingers delicately worked to pull each free one by one. The only noise in the room was the fabric rustling as he guided your dress off your shoulders. You shivered, either from the cool air in the room or in excitement; Chris isnât sure. He murmurs to himself when letting the dress pool at your feet. âMy bride, more beautiful than ever.â
The thin slip you wore underneath is sheer, leaving little to the imagination as his gaze roams your body. You were created precisely as you were in your previous existence. The freckles on your shoulders, the curve of your breasts, the dip in your waist, and the soft mound between your thighs were all the same. He stepped closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a feather-light kiss before trailing down to capture your mouth. You melted into him, savoring the full, velvety press of those lips you adored, the kiss deepening as his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours.
With a gentle push, he guided you backward toward the massive four-poster bed. The satin midnight-black linens were the perfect backdrop for your body. His hands found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly over your head, exposing your naked form to the air of the castle. Your nipples hardened instantly from the lingering chill and his gaze, making them peak into tight buds. Chris couldnât fight his desire any longer. He nearly tore the fabric of his shirt when he shed it off, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. His trousers followed; his cock, already thickening, stood proud against his thigh.
Finally, free from all clothing, he lowered you onto the bed. The mattress yielded softly beneath you as you lay back. Your eyes never left his, watching how he knelt between your legs, his hands sliding up the sides of your body to cup your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples, teasing the buds until your back arched and a gasp escaped your lips. The touch was surely fire and silk, with your vampire senses turning each flick and pinch into waves of pleasure that bordered on overwhelming.
Chris may as well be having you for the first time again. Four hundred years ago you rested in this bed a virgin for him to adore, and he gets to do it again. How can he not milk this opportunity? Itâs been years since heâs had you beneath him. His cock throbs painfully between his legs, but he still fights self-restraint. There is a correct way to go about this all, and you will experience it.Â
Leaning down, Chris takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, just to test your sensitivity. Your fingers thread into his dark curls, pulling him closer as he lavishes attention on your breasts. He alternates between sucking, licking, and nipping with just enough pressure to make you moan. Then he switches to the other, giving it the same devoted treatment, his plush lips sealing around the supple flesh until your body is trembling.
 His eyes met yours again as he trails kisses down your soft stomach. Your thighs part wider around him, allowing his broad frame to settle between them. You bit your bottom lip as he lowered his head. If he were cruel, he would force you to speak about all that you wanted. Drive that tension to a new height. Instead, he stayed merciful this time, allowing his lips to brush against an inner thigh. He trails kisses down the skin towards the slick folds of your pussy. You were already dripping for him. He could smell your arousal the second you rose for the night. You had wanted him then and there when the coffin opened, and Chris almost caved. He knew it was better to take you here after you were fed and settled in this bed.Â
You cried out when his tongue dragged between your folds to tease your clit. That remaining self-restraint shattered with the taste of you. These pent-up emotions inside him were a different hunger than what he was used to. He eagerly teased your clit to see if you still liked what you did in your past life. Your hips bucked when his lips sealed to suck on your clit. Every jolt of pleasure appeared to be a powerful ocean wave crashing against the rocks in the way you squirmed. Those new senses amplified every lap and suck from him, intensifying the pressure in your core. It wouldnât take much from him to send you over the edge.Â
He needed to; he was craving it.Â
The only sound he wanted to hear was your screams of pleasure bouncing off the walls. He maintained his gaze, his dark eyes burning with his devotion as he worked one finger inside you. Then eventually he progressed to two, curling to stroke that spot he knew so well from before.
âOh, Christopher,â you whispered, your voice breaking as climax neared. He hummed against you, and the vibration pushed you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, juices flooding his mouth as you came, shuddering beneath him.
Chris rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was now fully erect, and the tip was glistening. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock along your soaked slit. He waited until your eyes locked once more. Only then did he push slowly, inch by inch, until you were filled completely.Â
âYou were made only for me, beloved,â Chris groans out. âCan you feel how perfect we are?â
âYes,â you gasped at the stretch, the walls of your pussy clinging to him, not wanting him to move. He couldnât fight the confidence coursing through him at your words about feeling every ridge and vein lining him. âI feel all of you⊠so deeply.â
Deliciously delirious is what he used to think when you were under him, lost in the throes of pleasure. He could drive any thoughts from your mind. All that existed to you was him. Tonight would be no exception.Â
Chris began to thrust, gentle at first, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. Both of your hands reached for his face, bringing him closer to you. He followed, adjusting his stance, resting his arms by your head. Whatever you craved, he would give it to you. If you donât want softness and gentleness right now, then fine. He would unleash his true hunger.Â
You are his princess, his wife, and his eternal love.Â
The only one on this earth who gets to rule him completely. He is nothing more than a servant to this body of yours. Nothing brings him more satisfaction than knowing you are indulging your pleasure how you want.
Your lips connected once more to his plush lips. There was so much aggression in your kiss. He could barely keep up as his tongue mingled with yours. His pace quickened, the thrusts growing firmer, hitting deep inside you with each stroke. Your hands traveled, finding any expanse of skin to drag your sharp nails into, some sort of grounding, too overwhelmed by how your body accepted every plunge of his cock. It didnât take much for this exquisite torture to build your pleasure once more.Â
You broke the kiss to speak against his lips. âI love you, Christopher.â
âForever, beloved?â He groaned out, his control fraying. There was raw love in your eyes as he fucked you. Words remained trapped in your throat as your entire body tensed. You could only nod as one of his powerful thrusts triggered another orgasm. Chris felt his limbs tremble with the way your pussy tried to milk a release from his cock. Only you could make this powerful creature weak.Â
âYes, my king.â You gasped out as the high fizzled out. Chris could see the way the newly formed fangs elongate. Your body couldnât control all the pleasure inside you. âMy love for you will never die.â
Chris curses to himself, forcing himself to continue. Just as his affliction to blood kept him sustained, he must have more of you now. Even though you were real, under him and enjoying him, he couldnât stop himself. You two would spend lifetimes together, but in this moment he craved making up for the time apart.Â
What a beautiful goddess you are, he thinks to himself. God couldnât take you from him now. Not with the gift of immortality he gave you. He still wouldnât forgive God. No, you are the one mortal sin he will never repent for.
summary: you meet this gorgeous angel boy named hyunjin in the dead of winter. cute right? turns out heâs a serial killer whoâs been quietly removing anyone who so much as glances at your ass. and you⊠forgive him? wholesome! dumb hoe.
warnings: non idol au, graphic violence, blood, gore, homicidal behavior/psychopathy, attempted murder, toxic relationship, possessiveness, brutal codependency, major character death, both of u lowk die, suicide, obsessive love, masochist hyunjin, sexual content(unprotected p in v donât try at home, blood, sum freaky shi)
word count: 14k
youâre walking in the city. snow is falling. the sidewalk is a skating rink. no doubt that youâre gonna fall.
but when you do, youâre⊠caught??
âwhoa, hey, iâve got you.â
he catches you mid fall. totally romantic. omfg hello.
you blink up at him. snow in your eyelashes. breath knocked out of you.
heâs pretty. beautiful. itâs unfair, youâre jealous. soft face, pretty eyes, hair dark but there are little snowflakes in it. what the fuck.
okay, rewind. actually just to about a minute back, but still. you were standing there in the snow, blinking, cheeks pink, eyelashes already wet with snow. you looked⊠stupid cute. like aggressively cute. like a kicked puppy.
hyunjin noticed you immediately.
he was leaning against a pillar, hands in his coat pockets, watching the snow, the street empty out. he likes empty places. fewer witnesses. fewer people.
then there were you. small. shivering. doing that thing where you hug your coat tighter even though itâs clearly not enough. adorable. devastatingly. you muttered âshitâ under your breath, and he almost laughed.
almost.
thatâs when you slipped.
and now weâre here. he catches you around the waist, steady, like surprisingly steady. heâs done this exact motion a thousand times. just⊠not usually to save someone.
âyou okay?â he says, soft. calm. angel voice. he could sing you a lullaby like⊠right now. but instead, he helps you stand back up, stabilizing you.
you nod too fast. adorable. your nose is red. your eyes are wide. he could kill for eyes like that. he has killed for less.
âyeah. yeah. iâm just⊠wow. ice. fuck.â
he smiles. itâs gentle. beautiful.
âyeah.â he says. âitâs bad tonight.â his hands leave your arms immediately, which is polite and also a little disappointing.
you look around, then back at him. âwhen will this stop?â
ânot till morning.â
you sigh. a little dramatic. very cute. hyunjin notices how your breath fogs, how your hands tremble. he hates the cold. not because itâs uncomfortable, but because cold makes bodies stiff. harder to move. harder to⊠work with.
he clears his throat. âthereâs a cafe a block away. still open. if you donât want to freeze to death.â
you blink at him. âoh. shit. yeah. thatâd beâthank you. i mean. yeah.â
âiâm hyunjin.â he says, a little quick in the realization that he shouldâve told you sooner.
ây/n.â y/nđ„°đ„°đ„°đđđđ
you smile at him. aww.
you walk together through the snow. he keeps to your left, taller than you. you feel.. so lucky. you chatter nervously. about the weather. about how your hands are numb and you canât feel your toes and this is how people die, right? like this? slipping and freezing and being found later by a guy with a shovel?
the cafe is warm and dim and smells so good. you look relieved the second you step inside. you shake snow out of your hair like a dog. hyunjin watches. fascinated.
you order hot chocolate. extra whipped cream. marshmallows. cutie. he orders black coffee. he doesnât need it. he just likes holding something hot.
you sit across from each other. knees almost touching. you bounce yours when youâre nervous. itâs unbearable. he wants to tell you to stop because itâs distracting. he doesnât.
he listens more than he talks. he always does. listening is how he learns people. how he learns their habits. their rhythms. their weak spots.
thatâs how he kills too.
he plans. he watches. he waits.
heâs patient.
with you, he doesnât feel patient at all.
you blow on your hot chocolate and get whipped cream on your nose. he laughs before he can stop himself.
you look embarrassed. âwhat?â
ânothing.â he says quickly. âyou justâsorry. youâre just⊠cute.â
you blush a lil. itâs brutal. âoh. um. thanks?â
he nods, suddenly very interested in his coffee.
what is this⊠pushing feeling inside of his chest? is he sick? fuck, he canât get sick now. he has a body to bury tomorrow.
you talk about how you love snowstorms. how they make everything feel quieter. how unique they are to you.
âyeah.â he says slowly. âi like that too.â
he doesnât really, we just made that clear, but after all there are a few positive things about it. like how snow covers footprints. how it slows people down. how it hides things.
the storm is still going on outside. you yawn, tiny. he offers his coat when you shiver again.
you hesitate. âare you sure?â
âyeah.â he says. âiâm fine.â
you put it on. it swallows you. you look ridiculous. perfect.
a police car goes past the cafe window slow. lights on.
you frown, just a little, eyebrows knitting together. âoh.â you murmur. âthatâs⊠not great.â
hyunjin turns his head, sees the car. the officers inside. the way one of them is already on the radio.
five hours ago, he pressed a manâs face into the snow until the kicking stopped. gentle about it, even. the snow did most of the work. it always does.
he hums now. angelic. âyeah.â
you watch the car disappear into the white outside. âwhatever happened, i feel sorry. for⊠whoever, i guess.â
âme too.â hyunjin says.
you sip your hot chocolate, then grimace. âshit. i should be home by now.â
hyunjin perks up internally. home. information. he files it away.
you continue, oblivious. âmy washing machine is definitely done by now. i left it running. if i forget my clothes in there overnight theyâre gonna smell horrible.â
you live alone. good to know.
âthat sucks.â he says gently.
you sigh. big sigh for such a small person. âyeah. i hate being out late like this.â
he hesitates. then, carefully, âif i had my car, iâd drive you.â
you look at him, surprised. suspicious, but not unkind. cute little head tilt. lethal.
âorâŠâ he adds quickly, smoothly. âi could call a friend. heâs nearby. he could drop you off.â (heâs talking about chan. does this have any meaning to the story? no, absolutely not. zero. iâm just saying :P)
you pause. think. he watches your face work through it. you shake your head. âthatâs really nice of you. i appreciate it. but i donât accept rides like that from strangers.â
smart girl.
he smiles, beautiful. âyeah. thatâs fair.â
you relax a little. âthanks for understanding.â
god. youâre cute when youâre relieved. like a weight visibly lifts off your shoulders. he wants to put it back just to take it off again.
instead, he reaches for his phone. pauses. then slides it across the table. itâs his instagram profile.
âhere.â he says. âif you want. just⊠so i know you got home okay.â
you blink. look at the phone. then at him. you hesitate again.
âyeah.â you say. âokay.â you type your name in, nails clicking on his expensive phone. god, thatâs hot.
âplease text me when you get home.â he says, too quickly. then corrects, softer âif you want.â
you smile. small. adorable. he could just eat you up. âi will.â
outside, the snow keeps falling. somewhere a body is being zipped into black plastic. hyunjin feels oddly⊠distant from that version of himself.
he watches you finish your drink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like a child. whipped cream smudge again. unreal.
interest, he tells himself. this is interest. he feels interest in art. in killing. in his friends telling stories. this is the same category. obviously.
you stand, tug his coat tighter.
âthank you.â you say. âyouâre an angel. seriously.â
âanytime.â
you wave. clumsy. cute. then youâre gone, swallowed by white.
hyunjin sits there long after. phone warm in his hand.
interest.
yeah.
sure.
cutie.
you make it home with your fingers numb and your face aching from the cold. you kick the door shut, kick your boots off, and immediately go to your washing machine. when done with that, you shrug out of the coat.
hyunjinâs coat.
smells good.
you pull out your phone.
you: hey. iâm home. didnât freeze to death
you: the washing machine smells but itâs okay
the typing bubble appears immediately. he was waiting.
hyunjin: good
hyunjin: i mean good that youâre home
hyunjin: not the washing machine part
you grin at your phone. like a loser. adorable.
you: thanks again
you: seriously
you: for the coat and the company
you: youâre sweet
hyunjin is smiling at his phone. if you could see him right now, youâd think he looks beautiful. typing with gentle hands that have done terrible things.
before he could text, you text again. fuck. he shouldâve been quicker.
you: i should probably give your coat back to you
hyunjin looks at the wall of his apartment. at the faint reddish stain still there from earlier.
hyunjin: you donât have to rush
hyunjin: but i wouldnât say no
you hesitate. chew your lip. adorable habit. you do it when youâre thinking. hyunjin will learn every one of your habits. he always does.
you: maybe we could meet? soon-ish?
hyunjin: sounds good
you meet two days later. coffee again. daylight. people everywhere. you walk in wearing a scarf thatâs too big for you, tripping slightly on the threshold. pfft.
hyunjin stands when he sees you. people glance at him, thatâs how beautiful he is.
you blush when he smiles at you. you hand him the coat. âhere. sorry it took a bit.â
he takes it. âno worries.â
your fingers brush. electric. stupid. he has killed men without his pulse changing. now it spikes because you touched him accidentally.
you get coffee. you talk. you laugh. you ramble. you apologize for rambling. youâre adorable. he watches the way your mouth moves. the way you tilt your head. the way you listen.
that night, he kills again. slits someoneâs femoral artery in an alley and waits for the blood to slow before leaving.
he kills clean when he can. quiet. he talks to them sometimes. apologizes. thanks them for cooperating. presses their eyes shut afterward. always gentle at the end.
you donât see any of that.
you go on more dates. too many. too fast. walks. food. movies. sitting on your couch with your knees touching. you curl in on yourself when you laugh. you tuck your feet under you. you make small, pleased sounds when youâre comfortable.
he learns all those habits of yours.
heâs creepy. letâs not pretend he isnât.
you donât notice how his gaze lingers a beat too long on the way your lips wrap around the straw. how he catalogs it. remembers it. the exact pressure. the little hum you make when the flavor hits right. heâs building a library of you in his head. every blink. every nervous laugh. everything.
last tuesday some asshole on the sidewalk catcalled you while you were walking home. you laughed it off, rolled your eyes, kept scrolling your phone. didnât think twice. but hyunjin was there. two blocks back. hood up. the guy never made it to the next corner. they found him slumped against a dumpster with a knife still in his throat. clean. precise. no witnesses. hyunjin washed his hands in a public fountain three streets over, then texted you goodnight with a little moon emoji. you replied with a heart. he smiled at his screen for eighteen minutes straight.
he knows your shampoo brand now. not because you told him. he went into your bathroom just to take a picture of everything in there. from your hairbrush to pads, heâs got everything on picture. he bought three bottles of the shampoo. keeps one in his shower so he can pretend the steam is you. jerks off with his eyes closed imagining things with you. cums so hard he has to brace against the wall.
yesterday he âaccidentallyâ bumped into your coworker at the grocery store. the one who always lingers too long at your desk. asked innocent questions. got a name. an address. a routine. that night the guy had a car accident. brakes sliced clean through. he died. hyunjin watched from across the street, heart calm. he means well. you deserve better friends. better everything.
he asks about your day like he doesnât already know every detail.
you tell him anyway. sweet. completely fucking oblivious.
he listens.
later heâll go home and add todayâs notes to the locked folder on his phone. photos he took from across the street last week. a voice memo of you humming while you walked. the receipt from the latte he bought you today. heâll stare at it all until his eyes burn.
because youâre perfect.
and heâs going to make sure nothing ever fucks that up.
not even you.
fucked up, right?
he stands outside your apartment one night, hidden by darkness and snowfall, just there. he canât really see into your apartment from that spot, he just likes being near.
you text him ten minutes later.
you: what are you doing
he freezes. heart slams. instincts flare. he scans windows. doors. shadows.
hyunjin: uh
hyunjin: nothing
hyunjin: why
you: idk
you: felt like texting you
he sighs.
yeah. he gets weird like this sometimes. i mean those short words he answered with. sometimes he doesnât answer for hours. sometimes when he does answer, itâs short.
âkâ âyeahâ âlaterâ or he answers perfectly normal.
and then you see him in person and heâs flawless. beautiful. calm. gentle. smiling. it fucks with you.
so this time, you say something. youâre at his place. itâs clean. obsessively so. everything has a place.
you sit on the couch, knees tucked up, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. cute. nervous. honest. âcan i ask you something?â
he looks at you immediately. full attention. predatory. âof course.â
you swallow. âokay. well. sometimes you just⊠disappear. you donât answer for hours. days, sometimes. and when you do, itâs short. i know you donât owe me constant attention, i justâi donât know. it makes me feel weird. and i donât know if i did something or if youâre mad or if youâre just⊠i mean, iâm not accusing you. i just want to understand. i care about you, and when you disappear, it messes with my head.â
he doesnât answer right away.
inside his skull, his fucked up little psycho skull, alarms go off. everything collapses.
disappear. you noticed. you noticed the gaps. the missing hours. the blood time. the him time. the part of him he carefully keeps sealed off, hidden behind that beautiful face you like to touch.
âiâm not mad.â he says. âi just⊠get busy.â
you nod. you donât fully buy it, but you donât push. because youâre kind. because youâre trying. âokay. thanks for telling me.â you stand. âiâm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. then we can keep talking, yeah?â
he nods. âyeah.â
this is his first crush. he doesnât know thatâs what it is. he doesnât have language for it. he just knows that when youâre upset, his brain screams fix it fix it fix it and when he imagines you leaving, something⊠explodes in his head.
the bathroom door clicks shut.
the second youâre gone, he loses his fucking mind. his breathing goes shallow. his hands shake. he paces once. twice. thoughts stacking on top of each other, loud. too loud for his liking. you noticed. you might leave. you might be slipping away already. you might see him.
no. no. no.
bathroom. locked door. distance. time for you to think. time for you to decide heâs wrong. weird. off. a creep.
no.
he doesnât even realize itâs a crush. if he did, maybe heâd recognize the signs. the obsession. the jealousy. the way youâve become a constant in his head. but heâs never had this. never wanted someone like this. never been scared like this.
you turn the sink off.
the sound jolts him.
his eyes flick to the hallway closet. without hesitation, he goes and opens it.
and grabs the shotgun that he keeps in there.
âfuck.â he whispers. âfuck fuck fuck.â
heâs not angry at you.
heâs terrified of losing you.
the bathroom door opens.
you step out, hands damp, swinging them lightly in the air to dry them off. you look relaxed. hopeful. cute as fuck. like youâre about to continue a healthy conversation with the man you like.
your smile is already forming.
then you look up.
the barrel aimed straight at you.
and hyunjin, standing there, beautiful and shaking and completely fucking gone.
you freeze.
gun. real. pointed at you.
âokay.â you say.
your voice comes out steady. which is insane. good job, y/n. very adult of you.
hyunjin flinches like you shouted.
âdonâtââ he starts, then stops. jaw clenches. eyes blown wide. beautiful.
you raise your hands slowly. palms out. fingers still damp. you swing them once, awkwardly, because you donât know what to do with them.
âhey.â you say. âhi. itâs me. itâs just me.â
heâs breathing too fast. you can hear it.
âwhy is there a gun, hyunjin?â you ask gently.
he swallows. hard.
âi justâneeded it.â he says.
âfor what?â
he opens his mouth. closes it. shakes his head. âyou were going to leave.â
âi was going to pee.â
âafter!â he snaps. then immediately softens, panicked. ânotâi meanâeventually. you noticed things. you said things.â
you nod slowly. therapist mode. who the fuck let you have therapist mode. âokay but i didnât say i was leaving.â
his grip tightens. you hear the faint click of something adjusting. your stomach drops.
âyou felt weird.â he says. âyou said i disappear. that means you were thinking about it.â
âthinking about what?â
âabout me not being enough.â he spits. âabout me being wrong.â
you inhale carefully. âhyunjin. i was thinking about communication.â
âi canât communicate. i donât know what to do.â he blurts. âyou werenât supposed toâthis wasnâtââ
âhyunjin.â you say, firmer now. âput the gun down.â
âi canât.â
âyou know damn well you can.â
âwhyâwhy are you talking like that?â god, heâs pathetic.
âbecause i donât want to die.â you snap. your voice raises just a bit.
his grip tightens. breath stutters. eyes wild. âdonât yell. donât fucking yell at me.â
âthen stop pointing a gun at me!â you shout.
there it is. raised voice. boundary. consequence.
his brain fucking shatters.
âi didnât mean to!â he yells back. âi justâi just needed you to understand!â
âunderstand what?!â
âthat i disappear because iâm busy! that iâm not ignoring you, iâm cleaning up! that sometimes i come see you with blood still under my nails and i have to scrub until my hands hurt because i canât let you see itââ
âwhat?â
he stops.
realizes.
oh.
oh fuck.
ââŠhyunjin.â you say slowly. âdid you just say blood?â
âi kill people.â he says flatly.
silence.
ââŠsorry.â he adds automatically.
you stare at him. âyouââ
âkill.â he repeats. louder. âpeople. men. usually. sometimes women. not kids.â
ââŠyou kill people.â you repeat.
âyes.â
âlike. murder.â
âyes.â
âwith the gun.â
âsometimes.â
you sigh, putting your hands behind your head in stress.
âdonât move.â he says, horrified.
âi wasnât.â you squeak, putting your hands back in front of you. âi swear. i was just breathing.â
âokay. okay. good. keep doing that.â
this is the worst yoga class youâve ever been to.
âand then⊠you come on dates with me?â
âi shower.â
thatâs when you laugh. you canât help it. it bursts out of you, loud and hysterical and completely inappropriate. âoh my god. oh my gooood. i knew something was off. i thought you were like. emotionally unavailable. or secretly married. not a fucking murderer.â
he looks offended. âiâm very emotionally available.â
âyou pointed a gun at me!â
âbecause i panicked!â
âyou panicked with a shotgun!â
âdonât!â he shouts. full panic now. raw. ugly. violent. âdonât raise your voice at me, i canâtâi canât think when you do thatâfuckââ
he backs up, then forward, then slams his shoulder into the wall. a picture frame crashes. glass everywhere.
âi didnât mean to hurt you.â he says wildly. âi never meant to hurt you. everyone else, fuck, they deserved it, they were loud and cruel and they didnâtââ
âstop.â you say. âstop talking.â
âi canât.â he sobs. âyouâre the only good thing and now youâre scared and i ruined it.â he did. he really did.
you two stare at each other.
âthis is not how i wanted to tell you.â he whispers, beautiful tears running down his cheeks.
you drag a hand down your face. your hands are still slightly damp. you notice this stupid detail and almost cry.
âŠwhy the fuck are you worried about him? heâs shaking. ugly, uncontrolled, teeth clenching shaking. the gun wavers in his hands. and something in you decides he looks more like a terrified child than a brutal serial killer. what the fuck is wrong with you.
âhyunjin.â you say softly.
he flinches again, itâs almost like your voice physically touches him.
âcan i come closer?â
why would you ask that. why.
he stares at you. pupils blown. breathing ragged.
ââŠslowly.â he whispers.
you take one step. the barrel follows you. then lowers. just slightly. another step.
he doesnât understand whatâs happening to him. he feels love for you, he just doesnât know that. his brain doesnât have a category for that. so it defaults to threat. even when youâre not one.
you reach him.
youâre close enough now to see the way his eyelashes stick together with tears. itâs heartbreakingly beautiful. i was going to say itâs a shame heâs a killer, but thinking about it⊠it might make him even more beautiful.
âitâs okay. iâm right here. can i?â you ask quietly, gesturing to his face.
he hesitates. then nods. the shotgun slips from his hands and clatters to the floor.
you donât look at it. you donât break eye contact. you step into him and cup his face.
he goes still.
your thumbs brush under his eyes. wipe tears away.
âyouâre not okay.â you say gently.
he nods. his face crumples, the actual mouth frown and everything when we cry.
âiâm not excusing what you said.â you continue. mature queen behavior. âbut i can see youâre not trying to hurt me right now. youâre just⊠fucking overwhelmed.â
his breathing slows. just a little.
you can sense how confused he is. pairing that with being a killer, your brain comes to the equation of him not being good with feelings. having none at all, even. so you say âiâm not going to leave because you have feelings. itâs simple. youâre scared.â
thatâs it. thatâs the trigger.
scared.
his entire body goes rigid.
in his mind, scared equals weak. weak equals prey. prey gets hunted.
youâre labeling him prey.
youâre mocking him.
you must be.
you have to be.
because the alternative, that you genuinely care, that youâre holding the face of a murderer and trying to soothe him, that makes no sense. that doesnât compute. thatâs not how the world works.
he jerks back. âdonât mock me.â
âiâm notââ
âdonât!â
okay. cool. awesome. you thought you were getting somewhere.
your instincts kick in.
the gun is three feet to your left.
he runs a hand through his hair again. pacing. back turned for half a second.
thatâs all you need. you move. you scoop the shotgun up before your brain can even argue with you.
itâs heavier than you expected.
when he turns back around, youâre already holding it. pointed directly at his beautiful, shocked face.
silence. absolute silence.
his eyes widen.
ââŠoh.â he says faintly.
âcalm the fuck down.â you say. your voice doesnât shake. not even a little.
he stares at you.
this is new.
no one has ever done this.
no one has ever turned the equation around.
heâs used to fear. to begging. to chaos. he is not used to you. small. cute. hands still slightly damp from the bathroom. aiming a shotgun at him like you were born for this shit.
âyou are not the only one who can escalate.â you continue. âand i swear to god, hyunjin, if you take one step toward me without thinking, i will pull this trigger and we will both have a really fucking bad night.â
he swallows.
youâre the fucking boss, y/n.
âokay. youâre going to use your big boy words, hyunjin.â
he blinks.
âclear your fucking head.â you continue. âman up. look at me. and tell me what you feel. now.â
âiââ he starts. nothing comes out.
you wait.
his mouth opens again. closes. his hands clench and unclench. hyunjin doesnât feel feelings the way people are supposed to. he categorizes. he measures. he controls. emotions arenât emotions to him, theyâre something he sees on other people. youâre demanding something he doesnât have. and pressure, especially emotional pressure, hits the same place in his head as danger.
âi donât know. i donât know what i feel, i donâtâwhy are you asking me thatââ
âbecause i need to know what the fuck is happening.â you say. firm. shaking. brave as fuck.
âi canât.â he yells. âi canât do this, youâre asking the wrong thing, youâreâ i donât feel. i donât know what youâre asking me for.â
demand + confusion = meltdown.
âdonât corner me.â he whines.
âiâm not cornering you.â
âyou are. youâre making meâthink.â
he grabs some stupid decorative thing off the shelf. ceramic. expensive looking. fragile. he hurls it at the wall. it explodes. ceramic shards everywhere. dust. noise.
he takes a step toward you. bad move.
your finger jerks. you donât even mean to pull the trigger. you just want him to stop moving.
BANG.
the sound is huge. violent.
the recoil nearly knocks you on your ass.
the bullet slams into the wall behind him.
everything goes dead quiet.
you stare at the smoking hole in the wall.
he stares at you.
you stare at him.
ââŠholy shit.â you whisper. âi donât know how to shoot.â
he exhales, shaky. almost hysterical. âi can see that. do you want me to teach you?â
âyeah, sure. why not.â
he steps closer. âokay.â he says casually. âfirst, safety. finger off the trigger unless youâre ready to fire.â
you do that. immediately.
âgood.â he murmurs. ânow, your stance.â he moves behind you. you can feel him. warmth. breath. his hands hover, then gently guide your arms. ârelax your shoulders.â he says. âyouâre tense.â
no shit.
âthis part here.â he continues calmly, pointing. âthatâs theââ
you freeze.
you realize whatâs happening.
you turn, knee right into his crotch.
he lets out the most undignified sound youâve ever heard. cursing so filthy it turns you on. before he can recover, you swing the gun back and crack it against his head.
he goes down.
you step back, gun raised, breathing hard.
he groans on the floor, curled slightly, stunned and wheezing, but not out. never out. you underestimated how fast he recovers. that oneâs on you.
his fingers close around something sharp. ceramic. a jagged shard from the thing he smashed earlier.
you see it a half second too late.
the glass slices into the side of your lower leg.
âFUCK.â you scream, dropping hard to the floor.
your gun clatters away. useless now. fantastic. great job.
blood starts welling instantly. gushing. it hurts so much.
âshit. sorry.â hyunjin breathes.
âoh now youâre sorry?â
âi didnâtââ
âyou CUT ME. with GLASS. what the fuck is wrong with you?
he scrambles backward on his hands, eyes big. âyou hit me in the head with a gun!â
âAFTER YOU POINTED ONE AT ME.â
âYOU SHOT AT ME.â
âI MISSED, BITCH.â
you both freeze for half a second.
then you both move at once.
you crawl. he crawls. you kick out with your good leg. he dodges. you grab at his sleeve and miss. he grabs your ankle and you shriek.
âdonât TOUCH me.â you yell.
âstop MOVING.â
you try to scoot away. he grabs your shirt. you both roll.
somehow you end up face to face, breath ragged, both of you shaking and furious.
you shove him.
âget OFF me.â you yell.
he⊠actually does. crawls back a little, then looks at you with those angelic eyes.
âwhy?â you say finally, quieter. âwhy do you do this?â
âdo what?â
âkill. what do you think, what? dipshit.â
he rubs his face with both hands. smears a little blood from his temple. doesnât seem to notice. ââŠi donât know how to stop.â
âwhat do you mean?â
he stares at the floor for a long time.
âwhen you asked me what i feel, my brain went blank. people say things like âi careâ or âi miss youâ and itâs like theyâre speaking another language. i mimic it. i copy what works. but inside? itâs mostly empty. with you, it wasnât empty. it was confusing. i didnât know what to do with it. i think thatâs why i got scared.â
you sit there. bleeding. shaking. listening. ââŠi wanted more. not like, marriage or whatever, just. more honesty. more you. i thought we were building toward something.â
âi liked you.â he says. âi still do. i think. as much as i can like anything.â
thereâs a long silence. broken only by both of you breathing and the faint drip of blood onto hardwood.
âwellâŠâ you say. âthis is not how i imagined you opening up.â
ââŠyou shot at me.â he replies.
âand you look like a woman.â
he stares. horrified. âwhat does that even mean.â
âi donât know.â you say. âiâm stressed.â
âthatâs incredibly offensive.â
âyou tried to kill me.â
ââŠfair.â
you both sit there.
youâre bleeding. heâs bruised. thereâs broken glass and ceramic everywhere. the gun is just⊠there.
you look at him.
he looks at you.
ââŠso why donât we do it?â
ââŠdo what?â he asks carefully.
you gesture between the two of you. the room. the mess. the whole fucked up situation. âthis. us. whatever the fuck this is.â
he watches you. his psycho brain all over the place.
âhyunjin.â you say. âiâm fine with you killing people.â
âyouâreâwhat?â
âi mean, not like. yay murder. but i already clocked that youâre fucked up. that wasnât the dealbreaker. i freaked out because you pointed a gun at me, not because you kill. i donât want to be scared of the person iâm with.â
his mouth opens. closes. his eyes are glassy. ââŠi thought you were disgusted.â he admits quietly. âi thought you were going to leave because i was⊠wrong. i freaked out because i thought you werenât fine with me.â
you scoot closer. slow. you watch him tense, then force himself not to pull away. heâs trying. badly, but trying.
your leg throbs.
âcan you help me with this?â you ask, nodding at the cut.
he snaps into focus instantly. purpose. something he understands. âyeah. yeah. okay.â
soon, the cut is clean. the process was⊠brutally intimate, to be honest. i donât have to write it because both of you were quiet, but⊠damn.
he wraps the bandage. secure. gentle. the gauze is hello kitty print because thatâs all he had in the bathroom. you donât ask why a serial killer owns hello kitty gauze.
âthere.â he says softly. âitâll heal.â
you look at him.
he looks at you.
you lean in. ugh, youâre not wise, y/n. but you kiss him anyway.
the kiss is awkward at first. hesitant. mouths barely touching. then he exhales. and it deepens. careful. hungry.
ânext time we talk before the guns come out.â you murmur into his mouth.
he lets out a shaky laugh. âdeal.â
kissing keeps on going. his mouth feels so good. he smells good. heâs so⊠unique.
âi wasnât gonna actually shoot you.â he mumbles into your neck now. âjust⊠scare you a little.â
âyouâre so fucked up.â you whisper back, but youâre already kissing the corner of his mouth.
âmhm.â he agrees. kisses you harder. thereâs blood transferring from your leg to his body.
he slowly leans you back so youâre on your back in the blood puddle. itâs warm. gross. kinda nice? you donât have time to decide because heâs tugging your pants down your legs. underwear? who the fuck knows. probably already somewhere near his dignity when you kneed him in the balls. speaking ofâŠ
you palm him through his jeans and he hisses, whole body jerking.
âpoor baby. still hurt?â you ask, way too sweet.
âlike a motherfucker.â he grits out. but heâs already rocking into your hand, so clearly pain has not killed the vibe.
âshould i kiss it better?â
âlater.â
you start to pull his shirt over his head. it gets stuck on his ears for a second. he looks like a kitten. you cackle. he growls, finally frees himself, then dives back in to suck a bruise into the side of your throat.
you fumble with his belt. itâs one of those stupid skinny ones with the tiny buckle. fashion asshole. your fingers are slippery with blood. it takes forever.
âhaving performance issues?â he teases.
âshut up, killer.â
he finally gets it undone himself, one smooth yank, and shoves his jeans down just enough. then comes his underwear. heâs hard, leaking already, and you think jesus christ heâs been hard since he got hit in the head with the gun.
he holds your ass up, then heâs slowly, inch by inch, inside you and itâs⊠fuck. itâs a lot. heâs careful at first, mindful of the cut on your leg, the blood, the smoking hole in the wall ten feet away. but you hook your legs around him and say âharder, assholeâ and whatever leash he had snaps.
he hooks your good leg over his hip. the wounded one goes on his shoulder, and he slams home in one brutal thrust.
you both yell, you because it stings because no prep no lube no protection no morality, him because apparently getting kneed in the balls earlier has after effects.
the floor is slick. every thrust makes this obscene wet slap, blood, arousal, sweat, whatever else is leaking out of both of you. your leg is still bloody. itâs dripping down your ass crack now. great.
when he shifts your legs higher, folding you basically in half, your bandaged calf ends up near his face. he pauses mid thrust, eyes flicking to the hello kitty gauze. then he leans down and presses the softest kiss right over where he cut you.
aw. you clench around him so hard he sees the light.
blood smears on his chest because it runs down your thigh, which touches him. his hands leave red prints on your hips. youâre both laughing between moans.
another thrust. your back slides through the blood puddle. itâs starting to cool. sticky. you donât care.
when he starts to shake you remember. âpull out. when youâre close. pull out.â
he laughs, breathless. âafter that kick? iâll be lucky if i can feel my dick at all. but yeah. promise.â
he manages it though. heroic, really. pulls out at the last second with this strangled noise, hand flying down to fist himself twice before he cums messily across your stomach. ropes of it hit high enough that one almost lands on your tit. artistic.
heâs panting. collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush your bad leg. kisses your jaw, your collarbone, the underside of your chin, not caring that he got some of his own jizz on himself. then, because heâs nothing if not committed to the bit, he slides down your body, hands gentle on your thighs, and buries his face between your legs.
âwhatâre youââ
âgentleman.â he mumbles against your cunt. âfinish the job.â
bitch u just tried to shoot me.
the tongue game is brutal tho. flat and broad and then pointed and flicking and jesus christ. he eats you like heâs starving. uses every trick heâs apparently been cataloging since the first time he smelled your shampoo. those kitten licks with actual force put into them??? out of this world.
thatâs why youâre loud. embarrassingly loud. thighs squeezing his head, hands in his hair, pulling hard enough that he groans into you, hips grinding up. the bandage on your leg rubs against his back and it stings and itâs perfect.
the bullet hole in the wall watches as you cum. loud. embarrassing. back arching off the floor. he doesnât stop until youâre whimpering, oversensitive, shoving weakly at his head.
he finally pulls back, chin shiny, looking so fucking proud of himself you wanna kiss him again. so you do. taste yourself on his tongue. taste blood. you donât know whoâs so you just deal with it.
âbe my girlfriend.â he says. bold as fuck.
you blink up at him. brain still rebooting from the orgasm. âwhat?â
âgirlfriend.â he repeats it slower, like maybe you got concussed in the fight on the floor.
you stare at him. he stares back. unblinking. earnest. fucking insane.
âyeah.â you say finally. âokay. sure. why the fuck not.â
he surges up to kiss you, deep, stupidly sweet for a serial killer, and youâre laughing into it.
he finally pulls away to kneel up to pull his pants back up. the second his ass is in the air you sit up fast and smack it. hard.
he smiles. sighs. finishes pulling his pants back up, not bothering with the belt now, then he tackles you back down to the floor.
youâre rolling now, laughing, cursing, blood everywhere. he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down to squeeze your ass. you bite his shoulder. he groans.
he starts kissing down your body again. youâre still giggling, half drunk on hormones and blood loss probably.
âwait wait wait.â you gasp, pushing at his shoulders. âstop. iâm gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow.â
he stops. pulls back. props his chin on your hip and looks up at you. âbut only because you asked nicely.â then his gaze drifts lower. between your legs. he smirks, slow and filthy. âyou shaved.â an observation. proud as hell. no, itâs not creepy, heâs just letting you know that he knows that if someone shaves, then they most likely expect something to happen. he has gotten enough pussy to have a good experience with that.
you shrug. âyeah. thought maybe iâd hit tonight. figured iâd be prepared.â
âand you did hit.â
âdamn right i did.â you reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, tug him back up so youâre face to face again.
he kisses you again. softer this time. little fast kisses at the end of the big kiss.
âgonna take such good care of you.â he murmurs against your lips. âno more guns. unless you want âem.â
âweâll see.â
he shifts down carefully, picks up your discarded panties from where they ended up halfway across the room. black lace. cute little bow. he slides them back up your legs slow, gentle.
then he notices you wince when you try to bend your knee.
âcutâs hurting?â he asks, instantly serious.
âyeah.â you admit. âstings like a bitch now that the adrenalineâs gone.â
he nods once. âokay. letâs go check it.â
you end up on the edge of the bathroom counter. in your shirt, panties, socks, watching hyunjin peel the hello kitty gauze off. it looks horrible but at least not actively bleeding anymore.
he hisses through his teeth. âfuck. i really got you good.â
âdonât say that.â you say immediately.
he huffs. âwell, iâm not gonna lie to you.â not anymore.
he reaches for the cabinet. antiseptic.
no. absolutely fucking not.
âno.â you say, scooting back instinctively.
he pauses. looks up at you. blinks. ââŠyes.â
you plant your hands on the counter. âiâm serious. iâll pass out. or scream. or throw up. or all three.â
âyouâre not getting an infection.â he replies calmly, unscrewing the cap.
you try to slide away.
he firmly grabs your thigh. âdonât.â
you whine. actually whine. humiliating. âplease donât.â
he exhales slowly. âi know it hurts. i know. but i need to clean it.â
âneed is a strong word.â
âbeloved.â he says softly, and fuck you for how that nickname works on you. âlook at me.â
you do. bad idea. his face is open. beautiful. he means this. it fucks with your head.
âokay.â he says quietly. âhold onto me.â he steps closer, pressing you against his chest. one arm around your back âiâm going to do it now.â he warns.
âwaitââ
he pours.
you scream. thereâs no dignity left in you. you clutch him, face buried against his shoulder. he doesnât stop though.
âI know.â he murmurs, voice calm, not caring about that you probably just shattered his eardrums. âi know. youâre doing so good. just a little longer.â
youâre crying now. shaking. fingers digging into him. it hurts so bad your vision goes spotty.
and he feels⊠good. he feels powerful. needed. trusted. youâre clinging to him, sobbing into his shoulder, letting him hurt you even though he already hurt you once. his heart is pounding. his breath uneven. this, this is a sensation he doesnât have a word for. it lights something up in his brain that has always been dark.
he finishes. finally. quickly bandages it again, hands gentle now. âokay.â he whispers. âitâs done.â
you donât let go. your forehead is pressed to his collarbone. youâre still sniffing.
âyouâre okay.â he says softly, holding you. âiâve got you.â
âyouâre kind of an asshole.â
âyeah. i know.â
god, he never wants this to stop.
and it doesnât stop. youâre his girlfriend now, remember?
your leg heals slow after this. not infected, thanks hyunjin, but tender.
stairs? his arm is already there.
curbs? hand hovering at your waist, ready to catch you if you lean into him.
uneven pavement? âarm.â he murmurs.
and you take his arm. every time.
then thereâs the feelings problem (or lack thereof) you notice that he still doesnât feel like you do. youâll say âi missed youâ and heâll pause just a second too long before answering. not because he doesnât care, because heâs translating. what does that mean? what is the appropriate response? what does missing feel like in the body?
sometimes he mirrors you. sometimes he gets it wrong.
you learn not to take that personally.
though there are nights you cry quietly in the bathroom because you want him to ache for you the way you ache for him. because you want to be wanted without having to explain the instructions first.
but then he knocks on the door, opening it a bit, checking in.
âare you sad?â he asks.
you nod.
he sits on the floor with you.
he may not feel automatically, but when he chooses to care, he wants to. he finds that right. itâs sincere when he cares, and he cares about you. and suddenly you donât mind what you just cried about.
he just⊠observes you. when you text him âmiss uâ he replies with a photo he took of you sleeping last week (you donât ask when or how he got in)
but what makes this work, is that he never lies to you again. not about disappearing. not about why heâs off. not about the fact that he is what he is.
in return, you donât try to fix him. you donât say âtherapy would helpâ or âhave you tried journalingâ because that would get you murdered in spirit if not in body.
instead, you set rules. no disappearing without warning. if heâs thinking bout weird shit, if heâs upset, he says so. if you say stop, he stops. if youâre scared, it matters.
he writes them down. not metaphorically. literally. in a small, neat notebook. his handwriting is brutally attractive.
he respects your boundaries. he tells you when heâs going to disappear. when he comes back, he showers first. always. long and thorough. sometimes he stands in the doorway afterward, towel around his waist, hair damp, looking⊠wrong. too quiet.
those are the nights you donât ask questions. you just open your arms. he steps into them every time.
you learn the signs of when heâs dangerous to the world and when heâs dangerous to himself. theyâre different. to the world, calm. focused. distant. to himself, restless. tense. touch starved.
you handle the second one.
the first one⊠you live with.
sometimes he watches you sleep and thinks about how fragile you are. how easily he could ruin this.
and sometimes you watch him wash dishes, sleeves rolled up, humming softly, and think about how strange it is to love someone who contains that much violence and that much care in the same body.
his art is where you really see it. he draws obsessively. sketches. charcoal. ink. sometimes paint. the same hands that do terrible things are capable of absurd tenderness on paper.
his work is intense. not violent, exactly, just exposed.
something is deep in him. itâs just buried under this constant⊠static in his heart. his art is where they leak out.
there are setbacks. days he goes cold. distant. locked inside himself. you learn the signs, shorter sentences. less eye contact. restlessness in his hands.
you call it out gently now. âyouâre disappearing.â you say.
âi am.â
that honesty is new. hard, but a win. you learn quick that pushing him to âtalk about itâ makes him shut down harder. so you donât. you just crawl into his lap and kiss his neck until he comes back to you.
sometimes he leaves. but now he tells you where heâs going. when heâll be back. sometimes he doesnât come home clean, and you donât ask questions you donât want answers to.
thatâs a choice you make.
and slowly, so slowly you almost miss it, he starts to feel more. not all at once. but he gets jealous one day and doesnât understand why. gets anxious when youâre quiet. feels something sharp and unpleasant when youâre hurt and realizes, with genuine shock, oh. thatâs mine.
thatâs attachment.
thatâs feeling.
heâs affectionate in bursts. sudden. intense. will pin you against the fridge at 3am and make out like the worldâs ending then walk away to make tea like nothing happened.
sex is easy, because you two kind of started with that. sex does make dealing with this easier tho.
he still starts gentle because your legâs fucked up for weeks. but when youâre finally cleared for âfull activityâ (his words, doctor just said âtake it easyâ), thatâs when the freak shit ramps up.
itâs always his pain he craves. needs. he begs you to hurt him during sex. not playfully. seriously. gross serious.
first time it happens youâre riding him slow on the couch. your legâs still tender so youâre careful.
he grabs your hand, guides it to his throat. âharder.â he whispers.
you squeeze. his eyes roll back. cock twitches inside you.
âmore.â
wtf sure. you press until his face goes red, veins popping, beautiful even like that.
he cums so hard he blacks out for a second. wakes up gasping, smiling ear to ear.
you experiment. because why the fuck not. bite his throat, not just the side of his neck but throat. he cums untouched the first time you do it. just shudders and spills between you with this little whimper that shouldnât be as pretty as it is. after that itâs game on.
he begs for your teeth on his nipples. your hand around his throat. slaps to his face that leave pink handprints on that porcelain skin. he likes the sting. the humiliation of it.
you call him pathetic once mid thrust and he cums so hard his vision blacks out for a second. you have to hold him through the aftershocks while he shakes and murmurs thank you thank you thank you against your collarbone.
he never asks you to take pain. not once. if you even flinch wrong he freezes. switches to soft kisses and slow rolls of his hips, apologizing with his dick. the gunâs unloaded and locked away. he learned. or maybe he just decided your skin is too perfect to mark again unless you ask. (you havenât. yet.)
but for him? anything goes.
knife stuff. not on you. on him. he drags the blade across his own chest while youâre bouncing on his dick. shallow cuts. he smears it on your tits. licks it off. âlook what you make me do.â he murmurs.
you tie his wrists once with one of your scarves. pink. cute. he could rip it in half if he wanted. he doesnât. just lies there spread out and gorgeous, cock leaking against his stomach, pupils blown, begging you to hurt him more. you scratch down his chest. red lines come out. he watches them form with this shining look. then begs for your mouth on them. you oblige. he sobs when your tongue drags over them. cums again just from that.
aftercare is where the âno feelingsâ thing gets⊠hard to believe. he turns into this clingy, quiet thing. curls into you. lets you clean the bite marks with gentle dabs of antiseptic. kisses your palms after you wash your hands.
sometimes he just wants to be used. lies there passive and pretty while you ride him until heâs crying from overstimulation. sometimes he pins you down and fucks you lovingly.
one night after heâs come across your tits again (his favorite canvas apparently) and licked you clean like a gentleman(freak), he looks up at you with those big soft eyes and says, quiet: âi think this is what happy feels like.â
âyeah?â you card fingers through his sweaty hair. âcongrats on discovering an emotion, babe.â
he smiles. small. beautiful.
and heâs there for you. in life. once you went to a job interview, which you were excited about. like stupid excited. when you got home, you were pacing around the apartment, talking with your hands, doing that little bounce.
you were good. you knew you were good.
and then the email comes.
you didnât get the job.
hyunjin notices it on your face immediately. âyou didnât get it.â he says.
you shake your head. âno.â
he comes closer, slow, unsure because he doesnât know how to comfort someone.
âi thought i did really well.â you say. quieter now. âi thought i was⊠good.â
âyou are good.â he says.
you scoff weakly. âyouâre biased.â
he frowns. âiâm very objective. you prepared. you practiced. you were excited. those are not things people do when theyâre bad at something.â
you look at him. surprised.
he shrugs. âi read. a lot.â
you hug him.
then your roommate is moving. sudden. no real explanation. just lots of âitâs complicatedâ and âi need a changeâ and âitâs not about you, i swear.â
youâre panicking. you tell hyunjin that night. sitting on his couch, knees drawn up, fingers twisting together.
âso i guess i need to find a new place.â you say.
he looks at you like the answer is obvious.
âyou could stay here.â he says.
you laugh. âthatâs⊠not how that works.â
âwhy not?â
because itâs intense. because heâs complicated. because moving in with a man who once pointed a gun at you feels weird.
you donât say any of that. âitâs a lot.â you say instead. âand i donât want to rush.â
he nods. accepts it. but you see the way something tightens in his jaw. disappointment, maybe. or fear.
but you end up moving in anyway. you stay over sometimes as usual, one night turns into two. two turns into a week. your bag stays by the door. then your toothbrush appears in the cup next to his.
hyunjin wants it. really, really wants it.
âyou donât have to go back tonight.â
âyour stuff would fit better here.â
âitâs better when youâre around.â
which, honestly, is terrifying coming from a man like him, but also⊠kind of devastatingly sweet.
when you finally say, âi think iâm just gonna bring the rest of my things over.â he goes very still.
ââŠokay.â he says. too calm. suspiciously calm.
then, ten minutes later, you catch him reorganizing an entire bookshelf to âmake space for you.â which is his version of screaming with joy.
living with him is an experience. first of all, he is a neat freak. not in a cute, wipe the counter way. in a labels inside drawers, everything aligned way. his place has always looked like nobody actually lives there.
and then you arrive. your sweaters end up draped over chairs. your mugs migrate to random surfaces. you leave books face down, half read. your shoes do not line up perfectly and it makes his eye twitch.
but he never asks you to stop. instead, he adjusts.
you find him folding your clothes once and freeze. âyou donât have to do that.â
he looks up, confused. âi want to.â
he likes it. he likes your presence disrupting the system. likes seeing evidence that someone else exists here. likes your hair ties on the sink, your handwriting on sticky notes, your laugh echoing down the hallway while youâre talking to your friends on the phone.
sleeping next to him is another thing entirely. he doesnât move much. stays perfectly still unless you move first. then he adjusts around you.
sometimes you wake up and find him awake, staring at the ceiling.
âcanât sleep?â you ask.
âjust thinking.â he says.
about what, he doesnât say. but you know.
he starts feeling things out of order. irritation when youâre sad. relief when youâre safe. something unpleasant when you talk about leaving the city for a week to go somewhere with your friends.
one night, he admits it. âwhen i imagine you not here, it feels⊠wrong.â
you smile softly. âthatâs missing someone.â
he frowns. âi donât like it.â
âno one does.â
thatâs comforting. youâre good at comforting.
one day itâs raining. hyunjinâs in the alley behind that bar you like. hood up. knife already warm from his pocket.
the target is some drunk prick who bumped into you last friday. shoulder checked you hard enough your drink spilled. you laughed it off. hyunjin didnât laugh, but that has no effect on you because you didnât know he was there. watching out for you. and he memorized the guyâs face. jacket. laugh. the way he leered when you bent to pick up your phone.
now the guyâs pissing against the brick wall.
hyunjin thinks of you the whole time. how youâd look right now, probably curled on his couch in his oversized sweater that you like so much, scrolling tiktok. wonders if youâre hungry. pasta tonight? that creamy one you like. or maybe takeout. chinese. extra egg rolls because you steal his.
his knife slides in under the guyâs ribs. the guy shouts, hands flapping useless. hyunjin twists once. pulls. blood mixes with rainwater.
guy slumps. dies around for a bit. hyunjin wipes the blade on his coat sleeve. steps back. no rush. calm, like always.
except tonight thereâs a flicker. tiny. annoying. he pictures your face when he gets home. youâll smell the rain on him. ask if heâs okay. touch his cheek while checking for fever. youâll never know this blood is for you.
and when your therapist cancels an appointment later, then another, then disappears entirely, you text hyunjin immediately.
you: hey
you: can u come home
he responds instantly.
hyunjin: always
you tell him how these things lately have been fucking you up. and about the therapist. he listens. eyes on you the whole time.
âyou can talk to me.â he says when you trail off. âanytime.â
you hesitate. âi donât want to⊠replace my therapist with you.â
he considers that. nods. âgood. i shouldnât be a replacement.â
you look at him. the angel face. the careful posture. the depth you keep discovering in the least obvious places.
âyou help.â you admit.
he exhales. relieved. âi want to.â
a month later, hyunjin goes after a construction worker who catcalled you outside a cafe. loud. ânice tits, sweetheart.â you flipped him off and kept walking.
now itâs 1am in an empty parking garage. the guyâs fumbling with his truck keys. hyunjin comes up behind him quiet. plastic zip tie around the throat before the man even turns. pulls tight.
the man gurgles. claws at the tie. hyunjin thinks about that morning. you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his t shirt. hair a mess. making pancakes badly. you burned the first batch and blamed the pan. he ate them anyway. kissed the flour off your cheek while you complained about the smoke alarm. he remembers how you tasted like the pancakes. how you climbed into his lap at the table.
the guy stops moving. body slumps between two cars. hyunjin steps over it. thinks maybe heâll make pancakes tomorrow. better ones.
next kill. apartment building. targetâs the delivery guy who lingered too long at your door back when you two werenât dating yet. knocked twice. smiled too wide when you answered in shorts. hyunjin was in the stairwell. heard it all.
now the guyâs in the basement laundry room. folding clothes. alone.
hyunjin steps in. door clicks shut.
this one he strangles. hands around the throat. personal. the guy thrashes. face purple.
hyunjinâs beautiful face is blank except for the eyes, soft, almost sad.
he thinks about your leg scar. the one he gave you. how itâs fading to pink now. how you trace it sometimes when youâre distracted. he wants to kiss it again. lick the raised line until you squirm.
the guy stops moving. hyunjin lets go. body slumps into the laundry basket. ridiculous.
next is some ex of yours from years ago. hyunjin found him on facebook. messaged you last month trying to âcatch up.â you showed hyunjin and didnât text back.
now the guyâs jogging at dusk. trail through the woods. hyunjin waits there. tackles him from the side. pins him face down in the dirt. knee on the spine. hand over the mouth. knife slides in between the little bones of the spine. paralyzing.
then he works. slow cuts. just enough pain to make the man understand that heâs going to die.
hyunjinâs mind drifts again. to last night. you asleep on his chest. breathing soft against his collarbone. felt so good.
maybe this is what people mean when they say love.
hyunjin finishes the guy. one last cut. throat. quick. merciful. almost.
he sits back on his heels. blood on his jeans. looks at the sky through the branches. itâs purple. sunset. youâd like the color.
he wipes his hands on leaves. stands. walks back to the car.
on the drive home he thinks about that the kills used to be empty. satisfying. now they feel⊠secondary. the real thing is waiting at home in his clothes. looking up when he walks in and smiling like he didnât just end four lives this month.
he parks. sits in the dark for a minute. hands still tacky with drying blood.
he thinks maybe heâs in love.
he gets out. locks the car. heads upstairs.
youâre on the couch when he opens the door. hair up. legs tucked under you. bowl of blueberries in your lap.
âyouâre late.â you say. grinning. âi saved you some.â
he looks at you. and for the first time in his life something inside him doesnât feel hollow.
it feels full.
he crosses the room. kisses you slow. tastes the blueberry on you.
âsorry.â he murmurs against your mouth. âgot held up.â
you laugh. pull him down beside you.
âsâokay. youâre here now.â
yeah.
he is.
you feed him a blueberry.
this is better than any kill.
this is everything.
even when you leave a mess at home. because you do that.
and as i said, hyunjin needs the cleanness.
you leave one (1) coffee mug on the counter? his eye twitches so hard you think heâs having a stroke. you drop a single crumb from your toast? he freezes mid sentence, stares at it before getting the vacuum. you kick off your shoes anywhere next to the door? he just⊠exhales. long. slow. then he picks them up, places them down neatly, and mutters âthere we goâ
you start doing it on purpose because the way he freaks out internally is hilarious. pathetic. hot, kinda, knowing that your ragebait was successful.
so you âaccidentallyâ spill a single drop of orange juice on the pristine white countertop. he sees it. inhales sharp through his nose. doesnât say shit. just grabs the microfiber cloth (he has seven) and wipes it in perfect circles until the spot is gone and the counter is shinier than before.
you watch him do it with this tiny smirk.
he notices. his ears go pink.
âyouâre doing this on purpose.â he says. no anger at you. just⊠despair at the universe.
âmaybe.â you say. lick the rest of the juice off your finger slow. his pupils dilate. pathetic.
another time, you eat chips in bed. just one bag. leave three crumbs on the sheet. he comes in to change for work, sees them, and his whole body locks up. cleans it. you lie there watching, legs spread just enough to be distracting, eating another chip loud.
he finishes remaking the bed. smooths it obsessively. then stands there breathing hard.
you crawl over, pat the spot next to you. âcome here, neat freak.â
he does. because heâs pathetic for you.
you push him down. straddle his hips. grind just enough to feel how hard he is already.
âyou hate mess so much.â you murmur. âbut look at me. iâm a mess. crumbs on my tits. juice stain on my shirt.â
he whimpers. âstop.â
âno.â you lean down. kiss him messy. get chip dust on his perfect lips. he licks it off.
sometimes it ends in sex like this, you torturing him lovingly.
you make him watch while you âaccidentallyâ knock over his perfectly aligned stack of books on the nightstand. pages splay. bookmark falls out. he makes this noise, half sob, half moan. you pin his wrists above his head. âlook at the mess.â you say. âlook what i did.â
he stares at it. chest heaving. cock throbbing against your thigh. âfix it.â he begs. âplease.â
âafter.â
you ride him slow while the books stay fucked up. every thrust makes his eyes flick to the disaster. he whines. actually whines. âitâs wrong. itâs all wrong.â
âyeah.â you breathe. âand youâre hard as fuck because of it.â
he cums embarrassingly fast. shaking. you donât let him up. keep him there. pinned. messy. until heâs soft and oversensitive and still staring at the chaos.
only then do you let him go. he scrambles. pulls his underwear up. fixes the books in thirty seconds flat.
you watch from the bed, laughing. he crawls back. kisses your faded scar from calf to ankle. (thatâs about how big it is)
sometimes the rage ends in him on his knees. you make him clean you up. tongue only. after heâs already came on your stomach. he licks every drop. precise. thorough. while you card fingers through his hair and say âgood boy. make it spotless.â
he does. then he bandages any tiny mark he left on himself during (because he always hurts himself a little, nails in his palms, teeth in his lip, whatnot)
then he vacuums. because crumbs.
you lie there post orgasm, watching your tall, beautiful, neat freak boyfriend vacuum around you. you grin. throw a pillow at him. it lands crooked.
his eye twitches again.
you laugh so hard you almost cry.
he sighs. picks it up. fluffs it. places it at 45 degrees. perfect.
or another time heâs on his knees scrubbing a nonexistent spot on the floor (you may have flicked a pea there earlier just to watch him get like this) and youâre horny and evil.
you slide up behind him. reach around. palm his dick through his sweats. he freezes. sponge still in hand. dripping.
âwhat are youââ
you squeeze. slow. âkeep cleaning.â
he tries. god he tries. scrubs in furious little circles while you stroke him. heâs rock hard in seconds. whimpering. âthe floor⊠itâs still⊠fuckââ
you yank his sweats down just enough. wrap your hand around him. jerk slow and mean.
he drops the sponge. catches himself on his palms. head hanging. breathing ragged.
âdonât stop.â you whisper. âyouâre so close to getting that spot.â
he groans. pathetic. beautiful. tries to grab the sponge again. hand shaking. you rake your nails down his lower back. just lightly, the way we humans like it so much. that tickling one. he bucks. almost collapses forward. catches the edge of the coffee table. knuckles white.
âfuckâpleaseââ
you speed up. twist at the head. heâs leaking all over your fingers. trying to thrust into your hand while simultaneously reaching for the fucking sponge like his life depends on it.
âthe table.â he gasps. âthereâs⊠a smudgeââ
you laugh. cruel. hot. âthen clean it, baby.â
he grabs the cloth that he bought along with the sponge. swipes at the invisible smudge one handed while you jerk him faster. his hips jerk erratic. heâs moaning, soft, pretty. âgonnaâshitâgonnaââ
you dig your nails into his ass. pull him back against you. ânot yet. finish the table first.â
he sobs. actual tears. swipes the cloth again. misses completely. cums anyway. hard. ropes of it hitting the floor he just fucking scrubbed.
he collapses onto his elbows. shaking.
you lean over him. kiss the back of his neck. pat his ass. âlook at that. you made a mess again.â
god, he loves this.
later heâll clean the cum off the floor with the same focus he uses on everything else. youâll watch from the couch. eating something. throwing little crumbs from it on purpose.
heâll glare at you. never at you really, just at the mess.
but you like him this way, after all.
and when youâre standing in the quiet apartment, alone for once, and you see it. your mess. the mug you forgot. the sweater slung wrong. the drawer that never quite shuts.
and for the first time, instead of thinking heâll fix it, you think, maybe i can.
it wonât be perfect. it wonât be his perfect. but itâll be an attempt. and god, attempts matter to him.
so you pick things up. align them the way you think he would. you hesitate before putting something down, adjust it, adjust it again. you laugh under your breath because wow, is this what itâs like inside his head? exhausting. genuinely exhausting.
youâre mid clean when you open a drawer you donât usually touch. itâs one of his drawers. inside are neatly stacked papers.
you lift the top stack to slide something underneath, and you see⊠a photo of your therapist?
you freeze.
her face. printed. on a paper of files. session notes. intake forms. dates. nothing extra.
the address is neatly highlighted.
your stomach drops.
you donât flip through more. you donât dig. you donât confirm the worst thing your instincts are telling you.
because you already know him.
and you already know what this probably means.
your hands are shaking when you put the papers back exactly as you found them. exactly. same alignment. same stack. same order.
you close the drawer.
and you act normal.
he comes home later. he kisses you hello. he notices the place almost immediately.
âyou cleaned.â he says. thereâs something in his tone. surprise. appreciation. something close to pride, maybe.
âi tried.â you say lightly. âdonât look too hard.â
he does look. of course he does. but he doesnât correct it. doesnât move anything back.
âitâs good.â he says. âthank you.â
he suggests a shower. you go with him. the water is warm. his touch is gentle. would be the dream boyfriend if he wasnât a⊠killer. yeah. but you got over that by now. this is actually pretty fucked up from you too, but if you want him like this, then you want him like this. thatâs it.
in bed, he pulls you close. presses his face into your hair.
âyou did good today.â he murmurs.
you almost laugh. you almost cry. you lie awake for a while after he falls asleep, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing.
your mind keeps circling back to that paper. that highlighted address. your therapist who vanished without explanation.
the next day, you go to the address highlighted in that paper.
a man answers the door. you ask about your therapist.
âsheâs dead.â he says. heâs repeated it too many times. âwho are you?â
your stomach drops through the floor.
you stammer. apologize. say you were her client. you trail off, because what the fuck do you say after that.
he sighs. rubs his face. opens the door wider anyway. âcome in.â he says.
you sit at their table. her table. he pours coffee he clearly hasnât tasted in weeks.
âit was violent.â he says. âpolice say it was⊠targeted.â
targeted.
you leave twenty minutes later. thank him. apologize again. your hands are numb.
outside, you stand on the sidewalk and stare at nothing.
okay.
so.
sheâs dead.
time to move on.
you call your friend. the one who moved away.
she answers on the second ring, breathless. âhey, are you okay?â
âi need to ask you something.â you say. âand i need you to not lie to me. please.â
pause.
âdid someone tell you to leave me.â you ask. âand not tell me why.â
silence.
then a sharp inhale.
ââŠyes.â
your heart sinks, but thereâs also this horrible clarity. the world snapping into focus.
âwhat happened?â you ask gently.
she tells you everything. about a random number. a calm voice. the details they knew. her parentsâ address. her sisterâs school. how they told her exactly what to do and exactly what not to say.
when she finishes, her voice is shaking. âiâm so sorry. i was scared.â
âi know.â you say immediately. âitâs okay. i get you.â
she sobs. you let her. tell her itâs okay. tell her she did the right thing. because she did. because anyone would have.
after you hang up, you sit in your car and just⊠think.
you donât have proof of that. but you have pattern recognition.
you go home instead.
heâs there. folding laundry. your laundry.
âhey.â he says, smiling when he sees you. âi was thinking we couldââ
you look at him. the angel face. the hands. the man who hates crumbs but fucked you in a puddle of blood.
you smile back.
âsounds good.â you say.
everything hyunjin did, he did because he needs you dependent on him. he wants a world where choosing him isnât even a question because there are no competing variables left.
he doesnât want you torn between him and a job, him and a therapist, him and a roommate, him and a future that might not include him.
he wants him to be the constant.
the safest option.
the only option.
thatâs love, to hyunjin.
or at least the closest approximation his brain can produce.
yes, he killed your therapist. and yes, he threatened your friend. and dare i say cherry on top, he absolutely blackmailed the company that you wanted the job at so much. a job would mean coworkers. ambition. confidence. financial independence. a life that didnât revolve around coming home to him. so he made a few calls. dug up some dirt. applied pressure. the rejection email wasnât random. it was meant to be. and he felt relief when it came.
because hyunjin is a fucking genius.
so people just⊠drift away from you. opportunities evaporate. paths close.
and hyunjin is there every time, arms open.
of course you lean on him.
that was the point.
he doesnât believe heâs doing anything wrong. thatâs important. in his mind, heâs protecting you from stress, instability, disappointment, abandonment. heâs reducing harm. optimizing outcomes. making sure you donât have to choose between him and anything else, because choices hurt you.
heâs seen you hurt.
thatâs intolerable to him.
itâs intimate. every decision is for you. your habits. your fears. your soft spots.
and he removes anything that might compete with his role in your life.
once, back when you didnât suspect that he did this yet, you were sad. just sad. nothing new had gone wrong. that was almost worse. just⊠job rejection, your friend gone, your therapist mysteriously unavailable, the quiet sense that the world was shrinking around you and you couldnât tell why.
so when he came home, you hugged him. buried your face in his chest. and then you sobbed. ugly, shaking, hiccuping sobs. really letting it all out.
âiâm sorry.â you choked. âi donât know whatâs wrong with me. everything just keeps going wrong and i thought i was doing everything right andâŠâ you started crying completely.
you were so fucking adorable it hurt him.
hyunjin didnât say much. words arenât his strength in moments like this. instead he pulled you closer, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other at your lower back. he rocked you slowly while you clung to him, fingers digging into him.
âitâs okay.â he murmured. âiâve got you.â
he kept swaying. side to side. back and forth.
your sobs slowly turned into shaky breaths. your body loosened against his. you went pliant, trusting, exhausted.
hyunjin felt something click into place.
this was better than anything heâd ever known.
better than the clarity of killing. better than violence. better than the cold, perfect focus he used to chase like a drug.
holding you while you fell apart in his arms made him feel. the world finally made sense.
you needed him.
you needed him so much.
he rocked you and felt powerful. felt essential. irreplaceable.
he realized, very clearly, that he had never actually enjoyed life before.
not food. not sex. not art. not even killing, not really. those were just mechanisms. stimuli. ways to feel something.
this was different.
he pressed his cheek to your hair and breathed you in, eyes half lidded, mind already working, already adjusting the world around one terrifying conclusion, that this feeling, he couldnât give it up. and if the world kept hurting you, if people kept disappointing you, if anything tried to pull you away from him, he would remove it.
because you crying in his arms wasnât just something he tolerated.
it was something he loved.
and hyunjin is a sick fuck like that.
now itâs a stupidly nice day. sun is coming in through the kitchen window, warm on the counter. weekend.
hyunjin is cleaning the shotgun. standing between your legs because thatâs just where he ended up, his hips between yours. heâs focused, head slightly bowed, sleeves rolled, looking adorable tbh.
youâre sitting there swinging one foot lazily, hands on his shoulders. youâve held him like this a thousand times.
and god, you just canât keep your fucking mouth shut.
âhey.â you say.
he hums.
you swallow. âi talked to her.â
âwho?â
you tilt your head, studying his face. âmy friend. the one who moved.â
âokay.â
you feel your heartbeat in your throat now. âshe told me why she left.â
his jaw tightens. once. there we go. a reaction.
you lean forward slightly. âshe said someone threatened her. told her to move. told her not to tell me.â
silence. the gun is reassembled piece by piece. click. click.
you inhale. look straight into his eyes when he finally lifts his head.
âwas it you?â
the air changes.
hyunjin swallows.
you feel it through your hands, through the way his shoulders rise and fall.
ââŠyes.â he says.
ââŠwhy?â
his hands come to your hips. âshe was an exit.â he says calmly.
âa what?â
âan option.â he clarifies. âif things went wrong. if you got scared. you could go to her.â
âthatâs my friend, hyunjin. what are you even talking about?â
he looks genuinely confused by your anger. not offended. just⊠trying to understand. âyou were hurting.â he says. âshe couldnât help you the way i could.â
âso you threatened her? do you hear yourself?â
âyes.â
you shove lightly at his shoulder. he doesnât move. doesnât let go of your hips either.
âyou donât get to decide whoâs in my life.â you say. louder now. âyou donât get to scare people because youâre⊠because youâre scared.â
âi wasnât scared.â he says. then pauses. corrects himself. ââŠi was.â itâs brutal development, the fact that now he can admit heâs scared.
âfucking hell.â
âi donât want to lose you.â he says. âand people kept putting themselves between us.â
âshe wasnât between us.â you say, bringing your hands up now to gently hold his neck. not choke, just your palms on either side of his neck. âshe was beside me.â
he shakes his head. âthatâs still too close.â
you stare at him. âi choose you. or i donât. you donât rig the game.â
his breathing is heavier now. psycho brain firing, you can tell. logic tangling with attachment.
âi wasnât trying to control you.â he says, sounding defensive. his little brain doesnât know how to deal with this.
his hands stay on your hips. yours stay on his neck. itâs intimate, close enough to feel every shift, every breath. just as intimate as it was fucking in a puddle of blood.
âi need you to tell me.â you say, softer now. âare you going to keep doing this?â
he hesitates.
thatâs the real answer.
ââŠi donât want to.â he says carefully. âbut my instincts are⊠aggressive.â
lies. he wants to.
âno shit.â you mutter.
âyouâre being dramatic.â he says lightly.
you stare at him. âoh my god.â
âiâm serious.â he continues, tone almost amused. âno one got hurt in that situation.â
âyou threatened her family.â
âand sheâs alive.â he says, shrugging a shoulder. âsee?â
you shove his chest harder this time. he stumbles back half a step but doesnât let go of your hips until the last second.
âyou keep saying youâre protecting me, but youâre just deciding things for me. youâre deciding who stays, who leaves, who dies. like my fucking therapist, hyunjin.â
the words hang there.
heavy.
he freezes.
and thatâs it.
thatâs your answer.
you slide off the counter slowly, feet hitting the floor. âthat was you.â
âokay.â he says lightly, too lightly. âletâs not jump to conclusions.â
âdonât.â
âiâm serious.â he continues, calm, almost playful. âyouâre upset. youâre connecting dots emotionally.â
âyou froze.â you shoot back. âyou fucking froze. thatâs for a reason, baby. i know you.â
he smiles thinly. âpeople freeze for lots of reasons.â
âoh my god.â you mutter. âyouâre unbearable.â
he steps closer, hands open. âlisten. even if, hypothetically, i was involved, it wouldnât be as simple as youâre imagining.â
âno, donât⊠tell me like that.â
âiâm telling you why it made sense.â
âit didnât make sense. it made you feel safer.â
âyes.â
you shake your head, backing away. âno. i canât, i need space. iâm leaving.â
you turn toward the hallway.
you barely take two steps.
click.
your blood goes cold.
you stop.
slowly, you turn around.
heâs standing where you left him, shotgun raised, barrel pointed right at your chest.
his face is calm. too calm. voice level. âyouâre not going.â
ââŠput that down.â you whisper, heart picking up.
âno.â he replies gently. âyouâre emotional. youâll say things you donât mean.â
âyouâre pointing a gun at me.â you say. âagain.â
he sighs, almost fondly. âand youâre still standing there. see? you trust me.â
âthatâs not trust.â you say. âthatâs shock.â
he tilts his head. âsame outcome.â
you feel sick. furious. terrified.
âhey.â he says. âbreathe.â
you are not breathing. your hands are shaking. everything feels loud and wrong and holy shit heâs pointing a gun at me.
âput it the fuck down, hyunjin.â
âyouâre safe.â he says gently, smiling a little, beautiful. âi would never hurt you.â
âyou already did. you killed my therapist. you threatened my friend. youâre holding a gun to me.â
âiâm talking.â he says mildly. âlisten.â
âweâre done.â you say. âiâm breaking up with you. this is over. youâre fucking insane.â
that⊠that snaps something. inside him. you see it in the way his eyes go distant for half a second.
âno.â he says.
he takes a step closer.
the barrel lifts.
presses under your chin.
you freeze. your breath stutters.
he tilts the gun just enough to make you look at him.
âwe were going to be married.â he says softly. âyou know that, right?â
âget that away from me.â
âyou and me. iâd cry at the altar. not even try to hide it. people would think itâs sweet.â
you stare at him. say nothing.
âthen the house.â he continues. ânot too big. three bedrooms. one for us. two for the kids weâd make right away because youâd want to start early. youâd be showing by christmas. iâd build the crib myself. sand every edge so itâs safe. paint it whatever color you pick. blue or pink or yellow. doesnât matter. iâd do it perfect.â
you shake your head, tears running. âstop.â
âyouâd be a good mother. i know you would. iâd keep them safe. iâd keep all of you safe.â he says. his face is getting more red, beautiful lips plumping up. heâs crying too. âyouâd read to them every night. iâd listen from the doorway. pretend iâm not obsessed with how good you are at it. weâd fight about stupid shit. dishes. laundry. youâd leave crumbs again and iâd lose my mind.â
his grip on the gun is shaking.
âyouâd hate how neat iâd be.â he adds, lips shaking as he cries. âtheyâd be messy. youâd defend them. iâd pretend to be annoyed.â
youâre sobbing now. silent, panicked.
âyouâd plant flowers. mess up the rows on purpose just to watch me fix them. weâd fuck in every room. slow in the kitchen at dawn. hard against the hallway wall after a fight. gentle in the bedroom with the lights off so i could feel every inch of you without seeing how perfect you are. iâd go down on you every morning. youâd ride me on the couch while the kids napped. weâd be quiet. careful. laughing into each otherâs mouths.â
this isnât a fantasy. itâs a plan.
âsummers at the lake. you in that red bikini. me pretending not to stare. winters with hot chocolate and your cold feet on my legs. anniversaries where i take you back to that coffee shop. same table. same hot chocolate. iâd get down on one knee again just to hear you say yes twice.â
heâs shaking now. whole body. barrel presses harder into your skin.
âyouâd grow old first. women do. iâd hate it. but weâd grow old together. youâd get gray streaks and still look like the most beautiful thing iâve ever seen. iâd still trace your scar from that first night. kiss it every anniversary. weâd die close. maybe in the same week. iâd go first. so i wouldnât have to live without you.â
silence. his sobs hitching.
you look up at him. âdonât cry, hyunjin. this is your fault. you did this.â
âthatâs not why iâm crying.â
he closes his eyes. tight. he canât bear to see what comes next.
his finger tightens on the trigger.
the shot is deafening.
your body slumps. blood sprays. hot. everywhere.
he flinches. but the neat freak doesnât reach for a cloth. he just drops the gun. lets it clatter. kneels. gathers whatâs left of you into his arms.
he curls around you on the floor. wrapped tight. face tucked into the ruined curve of your neck. under what used to be your jaw. blood soaks his shirt. his hair. the rug he spent three hours shampooing last week. he doesnât care. for once the mess doesnât register. the only thing that matters is you. still warm. still smelling like you.
he cries into whatâs left of you. deep, ugly sobs that shake his whole body. he never had feelings before, and now heâs crying, blood soaking through his shirt, into his skin, sticking his hair to his forehead in sticky strands. heâs already swimming in it. doesnât matter. the neat freak is gone. thereâs no cloth, no bleach, no circles to make it right. just red. everywhere. pooling under you both. he doesnât care.
he loved you so much.
his face stays buried. breathing you in one last time even though all he gets is iron and gunpowder and the faint ghost of your shampoo, still the same one he used to buy for himself.
he loved you so much.
after a while, minutes, hours, who fucking knows, he lifts his head. slow. eyes swollen. lashes clumped with tears and blood. he looks around. the apartment he kept so perfect. now a slaughterhouse. the rug ruined. walls spattered. the coffee table knocked sideways. your blood on the couch you used to curl up on together.
he loved you so much.
his gaze lands on the shotgun. still warm. lying a foot away like itâs waiting. innocent almost.
he loved you so much.
he sits up. careful. gentle. god, he canât scare you now. he slides one arm under your shoulders. the other under your knees. lifts whatâs left of you into his lap. cradles you against his chest. your head, more like whatâs left of it, lolls against his shoulder. he doesnât fix it. just holds. rocks a little. the way he used to when you fell asleep on him during movies.
he loved you so much.
he reaches. fingers brush the the shotgun. he pulls it closer. slow. no rush. no panic.
he loved you so much.
he hugs your ruined body tighter to himself. one arm wrapped around your waist. the other maneuvering the barrel. he presses it under his own chin. the same spot he held it to yours. mirrors it.
his thumb finds the trigger. steady. no shake now.
he loved you so much.
then the second shot cracks the quiet. into flesh and love that never got to be anything else. his body jerks once. slumps back with yours. arms still locked around you. shotgun clatters sideways. blood mixes. his with yours. indistinguishable now.
the apartment goes still. blood keeps spreading. on every inch he once kept so clean.
two bodies tangled on the floor. his arms still around you. yours limp at your sides.
holding each other even after everything.
he loved you so much.
and this is the end of the two of you.
together.
close.
bloody.
dead.
the apartment stays quiet after that, except for the drip of blood from surfaces it splattered onto.
â đđđđźđđ„đ„đČ đŠđ bang chan
( ëź€ìŠ ) â Ïhen chan gets invited to GQ for an interview, he gets to answer online questions from stay â âincognitoâ. he canât help that most of the questions he answers, somehow, gets you involved.
àŠ smau fluff fem reader public relationship idol chan real tweets from real fans chan pov
Summary: You surprise your boyfriend on tour, but when the time comes for you to leave, he doesn't want to let you go.
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 5.2K
Trigger warning: Brief mention of anxiety, stress, insecurities and an accidental physical assault.
Anxiety resources
Chanâs life was good, but you were the one who made it great. Not just great, you made it the best thing heâd ever experienced. In life, people come and go. Some people leave memories, some leave experiences, but some people? Some people, you fall in love with them and drown. Head soaked beneath the covert of another, their touch, their gaze, their safety, and their life.Â
Some people are met to connect and fizzle out, while others infuse together and collide, like fireworks on the fourth of July; something indescribable happens, chemistry works in magnetizing ways, and the unthinkable happens.  Â
You were Chanâs firework stash and no matter what shape and color formed, no matter how bright you were while bursting through the darkened sky, he couldnât tear his gaze away. Some people are here for the beauty and some take up the entire view. The two of you could argue back and forth about which was which and who was what, but this afternoon, Chan didnât want to lose his view.Â
It was only one day between a triple set of concerts. One day to relax and explore the city. One day to rest up and sleep in. No soundcheck, no pressure to squirm into stage costumes, and no piling on the energy to keep the long concert going. Tomorrow, heâd give a hundred and ten percent when he walked upon that stage. A body soaked with sweat, a human becoming an artist, an ordinary man turning into an idol.Â
And then there was you.Â
You showed up with zero warning. He missed you more than he thought he would. Heâd never admit to spraying your body spray into the bottom of his suitcase, just so every time he opened it, it smelled like home. He wouldnât talk about the plushie he brought, the one he sprayed with the same scented mist, so he could curl his arms around it at night. Itâd never take your place, but it smelled like you. Nose buried in the crook of its neck, he lulled himself to sleep alone.Â
The hotel bed felt too big, too empty, and too cold. Queen-sized beds are better for sharing. No matter how many degrees he cranked up the thermostat, the call of winter came from within his own body. It was a chill he couldnât shake, no matter what he did. It lived within his chest when you were gone. Only a phone call away and he still couldnât fill the empty pocket of space within his heart.Â
At least, he couldnât until last night. Last night, he went out with the guys to find a burger joint. Grease shined their lips and the burst of a sun-ripened tomato sat on his tongue. No matter how many salty fries heâd consumed after that burger, the tomato took over his taste buds. Tomato juice squirted from the bite he took and a quick squirt of seeds flew towards Jisung, who flinched at the sudden attack.Â
âDude, are you trying to take my eyes out?âÂ
All eight of them laughed. Jeongin reenacted the squirt of tomato, crashing his fingers into Changbinâs arm. Changbinâs laughter caused Minho to shake his head. The others mocked Jisung. Hyunjin made a similar noise to mock Jisungâs surprise. Felix snorted as Seungmin chucked a fry at Jisung, just to watch him flinch again for his own amusement.Â
Chanâs chest hurt from laughing so hard. Everyone tried to regroup, not wanting to be too rowdy and upset other customers. It was hard to remain calm with the dramatic look on Jisungâs face. Eyes wide, mouth open in shock, and a hand clutched against his chest, he swore he thought the light was coming for him.Â
Chan uttered an apology, promising it wouldnât happen again. He successfully ate his burger. He was right, it didnât happen again, but an arrow shot through his chest. Sharp and isolated, he sat there with the guys with a smile pulled onto his face, but he wanted to recreate what happened for you. You were the one he wanted to tell with the theatrics. He wanted to make you laugh and he wanted to be the one that sparked the light behind those eyes.Â
Fortunately, his wish was granted when he came back to his hotel after dinner. Face flushed, sitting on the front of his bed, you sat with a shy smile, waiting for him to notice you. He froze with a hand still on the door and another near the light switch.Â
âBabe?âÂ
âHi, Chan.âÂ
âIs it really you?âÂ
âLive and in the flesh, yeah. I hope youâre okay with me appearing like this. The guys kept saying you missed me. I talked to my manager and got two days off. Surprise! Are you surprised? I hope I didnât ruin anythingâŠâÂ
When he didnât respond right away, your heart fell. Brief thoughts of doubt clouded your head. Maybe this was wrong and the guys misread the situation. Chanâs loneliness had been mistaken for something else, but then he sprinted forward.Â
You gasped and curled your arms up to your body. Limbs tackling yours against the bed, Chan squirmed until he was on top of your torso. âYou have no idea how much I missed you. Oh my god, I canât believe youâre here.âÂ
He fell into your chest, like a lost child finally being found. The weight of everything melted away. Everything melted away and life was good. The world re-orientated itself upright on its axis. His fingers curled against your hips, gripping onto you so tight, he grew afraid youâd melt and this was all a dream.Â
âDid you miss me that much?âÂ
âYou have no idea. Every time Iâm away from you, itâs a punishment. Iâm so happy youâre here.âÂ
Lips brushed against the side of your neck. Jet lagâs exhaustion weighing over your head no longer mattered. Your brain buzzed and the only thing that mattered was the two of you alone in this hotel room. Bodies taking up space and pressed against one another.Â
You no longer felt the desire to complain about the rude flight attendant or the screaming baby who ruined your flight by spiking a headache. You forgot about the toothbrush you didnât pack, so youâd have to find one between today and tomorrow. You didnât admit you left behind your body wash, so you could purposefully use Chanâs because you missed him.Â
Some people claim a relationship is love because they think it sounds right, but with your relationship with Chan, it didnât just sound right, it felt right. How was it possible for two people to align and feel this way about each other? Did the universe trap you together on purpose or before you were born? Did fate have a script written out where it lasted forever?Â
Words werenât enough. His nose bumped against your pulse point, causing your heart to jump. Hands found his head, threading through the soft strands of his hair, and then there were lips. Lips and warmth and the rush of love. Deliriously drunk on something so sickly sweet, neither of you wanted it to end. Lips against lips, bodies pressed together, every nerve jutted to life. Goosebumps trailed arms, fingers traced invisible lines, and desire stretched into a wildfire.Â
The smiling didnât stop. Even when Chanâs lips found you, you couldnât focus on his lips. He was met with more teeth than lips. Head tipping back, he wanted to find the cause of the issue, but there wasnât one. All the people youâd ever loved before and then there was him. Night and day, black and rainbow, the BC and AC; before Chan and after Chan.Â
After Chan caused your days to blossom and bloom. Even with the problems erupting, even when everything fell apart, it all came together in the end. You knew it because Chan was there and with him, you could conquer anything you set your mind to.Â
âI love your smile.âÂ
He reached out and brushed hair away from your eyes. Before his arm could return to his body, you reached up and curled your fingers around his wrist. Everything felt right. His stomach twisted with need, but he forced himself to pause and focus on this moment.Â
The only thing that ever made him high was you. No amount of alcohol, no intake of illicit substance could recreate this drunken haze clouding his head. You were his and he was yours. Locked in a room, tucked in a fantasy, everything unwound like it was supposed to.Â
âI like your face.âÂ
With those words, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his, certain you could kiss him properly this time.Â
~ ~ ~Â
And when the world woke up the next morning, it felt like a dream. Rolled over and facing you, your cheek smushed into a pillow, every muscle relaxed with your chest steadily rising up and down. Movement came from a room behind, probably Changbin and Jeongin screwing around, the two of them were already up for the day. Knowing them, theyâd head down to the hotelâs attached gym.Â
Chan planned to go with them, but that was before you showed up. You with that voice and the tenderness that he couldnât bear to rip himself apart from. Is loving another selfish or the most selfless thing a person can do for themselves? The thought ran around his brain and dropped a cold marble of consideration between his finger tips. No matter which answer he ended up with, it didnât matter.Â
You took the time out of your day and your life to show up to be with him. He didnât ask you to take days off work. He didnât ask you to buy a plane ticket or a concert ticket, but you did it anyway. Money down the drain, but you didnât see it as a regret. If paying money was the price you had to pay to spend an extra day with the love of your life, so be it.Â
Trapped in a dream, you were unaware of the longing gaze on Chanâs face. He didnât want a photo of this. He wanted the memory imprinted on his brain, so he could go back and revisit it at any time. He wanted to expand this memory, climb inside, and shut the door behind him, so he could access it whenever he desired.Â
Your snores with the added mixture of the traffic below. In the city, heavy traffic backed up already. People honked horns and cars steadily rumbled along the paved roads. Everyone was in a rush and, for once in his busy life, it wasnât him. There were a few hours before soundcheck. Hours until he had to break this illusion and part ways.
It didnât matter what management said. He didnât know if you purchased soundcheck tickets, but it didnât matter. Youâd be down below, so you could watch him perform. With or without the fans' knowledge, youâd be there, so he could keep an eye on you. Watching you would only give him more energy.Â
No matter how badly he wished he could pull you on stage and serenade you with some cheesy love song, pulling out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, he knew it wouldnât happen. Management would never allow it, but it didnât stop him from imagining it. The smile on your face, the flushed cheeks, and the way youâd cover your face from embarrassment. He lived for the thrill of embarrassing you.Â
Minutes ticked by, but he didnât get up. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on you. He wondered if youâd find it weird or maybe youâd find yourself embarrassed by his close observation, but he didnât view it that way. What a privilege to be able to lay next to the person he loved. Time suspended and came to a slow crawl.Â
Cars rushed by on the busy streets below, but heâd take this moment for as long as the world allowed him to have it.Â
~ ~ ~Â
You were so insistent to be the one to lay down. In the back of the venue, you laid down on the leather loveseat, pushed off to the side of the beige wall. Fluorescent lights rounded three square mirrors for makeup artists to apply makeup correctly. Other members lingered around the area, waiting to get their makeup done. Your platform shoes dangling over the edge of the arm, Chan cautiously sat on your stomach.Â
âAre you sure Iâm not hurting you?â He asked for the third time.Â
âIf you were, I wouldnât be allowing you to sit here,â you reassured him. âI want you here, so kindly shut up and keep sitting. Youâre helping warm my organs, itâs cold in here.âÂ
He chuckled at your predicament and leaned back. His weight pressed against your stomach, but truly, you didnât mind it. Something about the pressure felt nice. Your head fell back against the arm of the fabric. The two of you werenât alone, but it felt like itâŠÂ
Until Hyunjin had to go and open his mouth.Â
âHave you two considered sitting five feet apart and not on top of one another? I feel like youâre mocking me for being single.â A cup of ramen in one hand, chopsticks holding up strands of soaked noodles in the other, he stared with a frown. âItâs ruining my meal.âÂ
âAnd youâre ruining my moment with my man,â you shot back playfully. âWhereâs your man?âÂ
Hyunjin paused and glanced over his shoulder. The plastic chair beneath him creaked with his adjusted weight. Changbin hung out beside Felix, talking to the makeup artist doing Felixâs makeup.Â
Hyunjin frowned and spun back to face you. âHe abandoned me.âÂ
âYou should win him back.âÂ
âYou think I could compete with Felix? Heâs got so many ambassador brands, heâs loaded. He could buy Changbinâs love and Iâd still be here, lost to the wind.âÂ
Chan snorted at his words and shook his head. A black t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans sat on his hips. The soundcheck was only about an hour away. Until then, you hung back in the dressing room with Chan. Eventually, youâd have to go out and find your spot for soundcheck. You dreaded having to leave him alone. Once soundcheck ended, itâd be a while before the official concert started.Â
Hyunjin paused mid-slurp and frowned. âDo you guys ever think about how confusing Felixâs taxes must be? My taxes are confusing because I have a few brand deals, but he has so many and he lives here in South Korea, but he came from Australia and do you thinkâŠâ He trailed off.Â
His head suddenly snapped up and his eyes found Chan. âWait, youâre Australian! How confusing are your taxes?â
Chan threw his head back and groaned. âOh, please. I hate even thinking about it. I hire some guy to help me with it every year. Itâs confusing, but he always helps me figure it out.âÂ
âYou donât want to go to jail for tax fraud?â You joked. âI can see it now.â Your hands reached up and circled above your head. âBang Chan of Stray Kids arrested for tax evasion and fraud.âÂ
He leaned forward, pushing more weight on your body as he moved closer to your face. âYou think youâre funny, donât you?âÂ
âYep. A real hoot.âÂ
âGross,â Hyunjin mumbled beneath his breath. âI wish Iâd go to jail for tax evasion. At least, I wouldnât have to sit here and watch the two of you flirt.âÂ
Chan jerked up instantly. âWhatâd you say?â He shifted upright, standing up, and moving towards Hyunjin.Â
Hyunjin shrieked and cowered back in his chair. âIâm sorry! Iâm sorry! I didnât mean it! I was joking!âÂ
Felix caught a glimpse of the action happening in the makeup mirror. He grinned at Chanâs threat and egged him on. âYeah, get him! Sic him!âÂ
Changbinâs conversation with the makeup artist froze. He whirled around, trying to figure out what was happening. âHey! Are you threatening my wife? Back up, bucko!âÂ
Before anyone threw punches, the dressing room door swung open. Minho appeared with a foam cup of sliced fruit. He paused when he heard the bickering. Behind him, Jeongin leaned forward with two of his own fruit cups.Â
âWhatâs going on?â Jeongin asked.Â
Minho shrugged, tugged one of the fruit cups from Jeonginâs hand, and lightly shook it. âChannie-hyung, we found you a snack.âÂ
The bickering halted, even you looked up from your lounge spot. Minho shook the cup again and walked forward, holding it out for Chan. âItâs sliced pineapple. We know how much you like pineapple.âÂ
His attention fell from Hyunjin and went to the cup. Sure enough, yellow tidbits piled high on top of one another. The sight of them alone caused his stomach to growl. He reached out and gently took them. âThank you.â He carried them back to you.Â
Hyunjin huffed and shoved himself upright in his chair. âHow rude.âÂ
Changbin brushed off Hyunjinâs shoulders. He made sure he was okay, before returning to the now empty makeup chair. Jeongin took a seat on the other side of the room with his own fruit cup. He stuck the plastic fork inside and pulled out a blueberry.Â
Chan laid back against you and stabbed one of the pieces of pineapple. Before he consumed a bite, he brought it up to your face. âOpen up.âÂ
âYou donât have to feed me. Iâve already eaten. Youâre the one thatâll be burning tons of calories out there.âÂ
He refused to hear it. Not taking no for an answer, you obliged and opened your mouth. The cold tropical fruit brushed against your tongue. You chewed through the sweet taste and swallowed. Chan held another to your mouth and you took it from the fork again.Â
Thatâs how the rest of the time went. He took a few bites and shared another with you. If you tried to object, he shook his head. While conversations flowed between you, Seungmin and Jisung appeared back from the bathroom. Jisung asked Chan for a bite, but he refused.Â
Youâd never admit it out loud, but you found Chanâs commitment to only sharing certain food with you absolutely adorable and it caused your heart (and maybe your ego) to swell with pride.Â
~ ~ ~Â
The shrill screams from those around you deafened you, but you didnât care. Wearing an ear-to-ear grin, you waved the Stray Kidsâ lightstick frantically. It flashed a bright burst of colors, linking up with the others flooding the arena, and colors pulsed. Neon colors flew one right after the next. They bobbed between songs and swayed for others.Â
When Chan sent a kiss blown in your direction, you couldnât stop blushing. It was impossible to see with the lights dimmed down, but he knew. His laughter and pointing and giggling said everything. You shook your head, drunk on the feelings engulfing you.Â
It wasnât a surprise when the fan next to you let out a high-pitched scream. âCHAN! I LOVE YOU!â Her lightstick jerked up and waved frantically back and forth.Â
When Chan waved in your direction again, she literally swooned. Her body dipped to the side in a slight sway. âOh my god, heâs the love of my life. He doesnât know it, but heâs the love of my life.â Her fingers curled around the lace frills of her shirt.Â
If only you knew heâs mine.Â
You kept your words to yourself, but you knew you were his. On that same edge of the stage, he kept his gaze upon you. He didnât want to leave. It was Minho that dragged him away, reminding him he had to interact with other parts of the stage or people would figure out something was up.Â
It was hard to hide anything with hundreds of people filming the guys from a variety of angles while they all enjoyed the official concert.Â
~ ~ ~
Soundcheck occurred and passed relatively quickly. You enjoyed it, but not as much as you wanted to. Since you couldnât speak to Chan, every time you had something you wanted to say, you tugged out your phone and texted it to him. He didnât know until he pulled out his phone to reveal more than fifty text messages from you.Â
Each one made his heart swell a little more. Pride plucked his heart. He turned himself around in the dressing room after he changed out of his concert outfit. Hiding in the corner, he ignored his members as he scrolled. He smiled so much, his face hurt and his dimples ached. It was always worth it for you.Â
Why are you doing this to me? Itâs like the stylist wants me to suffer. Are you aware you keep flashing your abs each time you raise your arms? Do you want me to die?Â
OMG! ARE YOU OKAY?!?! I canât believe they didnât push the cords further away from the stage. What do they control anyway? The lights? We should sue for physical damages.Â
Pheeeeeew. Itâs getting so hot, but I canât tell if itâs the venue or if itâs just you đ (seriously youâre killing me)Â
His giggles were unstoppable. It wasnât until Jeongin peeked over his shoulder that he whirled around and jerked his phone away. âHuh? I wasnât doing anything bad.âÂ
âYouâre over here giggling at the wall.âÂ
âSome of us are reading the text messages from our significant others. You wanna see? Look! They even complimented you!âÂ
He scrolled back up, showing Jeongin the text you sent about his shoes. When Jeongin saw it, his face brightened immediately. âSee! I told you someone would appreciate my shoes. Tell them I appreciate it and tell them I got them fromââÂ
âNuh-uh. If I tell them where you got them, theyâll want a pair. Itâs bad enough knowing you wear those moon boot looking things. I canât have my partner wearing them, too.âÂ
Jeongin shook his head and pulled out his own phone. âJust for that, Iâm texting them right now.âÂ
âInnie, donât you dare!âÂ
Chan trusted you so much, he didnât doubt your loyalty. Not anymore. It took some time for him to slowly accept you having all the numbers of his group members. It hadnât been your choice. It started with Jeongin sneaking into Chanâs phone while he was asleep.Â
Chan had been restless and anxious during the last comeback. Way more anxious than usual, it worried everyone. Jeongin texted you on a whim, wondering if youâd noticed. Everyone tried to ease his inner turmoil, but Chanâs brain did what it did best. He overworked himself and he ran around in circles internally until he was on the verge of breaking down from the pressure.Â
You knew something had changed. He was different. Date nights were cancelled back-to-back. The third time it happened, no plans were made for another date night. You knew he was busy. Not wanting to add onto his stress, you took a few steps back, knowing if youâd be too overbearing, heâd feel suffocated and retreat entirely.Â
You were placed into a group chat with his group members. One-by-one, their numbers filled your phone. Concerns, notices of him missing meals, the constant pressure to rework songs, rewrite lyrics, and produce more. His own brain became a black hole.Â
You were the one to catch him. You called it an emergency and said you needed to talk. To your surprise, shortly after you texted, he showed up at your place within twenty minutes. Eyes wide and hands open to receive and support you in whatever way he could, he was confused when he appeared to a bag of takeout.Â
Your words hurt. It stung to come face-to-face with reality. To know heâd been hurting you, but it hurt a little more when you showed him the messages on your phone. Every text message between you and his group members. Even from Changbin and Minho, who believed that if Chan needed assistance, heâd always come find them.Â
The wave of anger turned into the fear of failure. Head in his hands, the walls of the box heâd caged himself in crumbled. The fear of never being good enough, the desire to please, the constant need to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, everything tumbled out and seeped through his fingers into unsteady piles of sand. He choked out the words. The lump in his throat tried to silence him, but he was stronger than his inner demons; he always had been and he always would be.Â
Whether he had to be reminded or the self-confidence within him grew and he kept that belief close to his heart, it depended on the day and his mood. No matter which it was, youâd always do your best to stitch it into his heart. Even if he rebuked your words and jerked out the stitches, youâd stitch praise back into him again and again and again, until those stitches dissolved and his brain accepted it.Â
There never was any other option. Even if he doubted himself, you never did. Doubt is ingrained in everyone and we are no different from one another. Doubt is inevitable, itâs the faith in yourself and the faith from those around you who take you far.Â
~ ~ ~Â
âDonât leave. It feels like you just got here. Please donât leave me.âÂ
Chanâs words came out half-mumbled. Lips pressed against your neck, they barely made sense, but you understood them perfectly. Arms wrapped around your waist, heâd been begging since the two of you came back to the hotel room after the concert.Â
Both of you had showered and the plan was simple, youâd stay until Chan fell asleep. Once you were certain he was off to dreamland, youâd take your suitcase and disappear into the night. Your red-eye flight took off in a few hours and you had to be there on time for boarding. Your boss gave you two days, not forever. By the time you flew back to South Korea, the sun would rise and youâd try to get some sleep before the next day.Â
âYou know I have to go.â
Your fingers slipped through his hair. The products the hair stylist used washed out of the damp strands. His dark curls came back in small tufts. The frown never left his face. He squeezed you tighter and let out the faintest huff. He pouted and you knew he wanted pity, but you chuckled.Â
âNot funny,â he grumbled.Â
âIâll see you again in a few days. This leg of the tour will be over and youâll come back home for a bit.âÂ
âYeah,â he scoffed, âjust to do more scheduled things. I donât want to do my job, I want to see and hold you.â He squeezed you tighter. âWhat if I never let you go?âÂ
âCareful. Youâre on dangerous territory. Youâre squeezing me so hard, itâs getting hard to breathe.âÂ
âGreat, so letâs call your boss tomorrow and tell her you canât come because your sexy boyfriend gave you a heart attack.âÂ
âWooow,â sarcasm filled your voice. âI bet sheâll love that. Canât wait to explain that one when I get back.âÂ
He sighed, knowing you were right. âI know youâve gotta go, I just miss you. You havenât left and I miss you already.âÂ
You glanced up and tipped your head. His lips pressed into an exaggerated pout. An undertone of citrus hit your nose. You sucked in a deep breath and leaned closer. âIâd stay here with you if I could.âÂ
âYou can quit your job and travel with me full-time.âÂ
âYour company wouldnât allow that.âÂ
âI could always use an assistant.âÂ
âGood try.âÂ
âIt sounded good.âÂ
You untangled your arms and pulled away. âCome on.â You walked over to the hotel room bed and gently patted the top covers. âLetâs go. If you donât get enough rest, youâre going to be sore tomorrow. Youâve spent the past three hours dancing and jumping around, like a wild kangaroo.âÂ
His bare feet kicked the worn carpet. Another huff and arms over his chest, he dragged himself to the right side of the bed. He lowered himself beneath the covers you pulled back. âRight now, Iâm merely a kangaroo with a bruised heart.âÂ
âOh, you poor thing.âÂ
âI could really use someone to stay and cuddle, but since you think you have to leave so soonâŠâ He trailed off and propped himself up on his elbow. âI will settle for a kiss.âÂ
You carefully leaned forward and shifted closer. âBecause I love you.â Your lips found the apple of his left cheek and then the right. A centered forehead kiss, the tip of his nose, and then his lips.Â
When you pulled away, he gripped the front of your shirt and kept you there. Eager lips didnât leave yours. Yesterday replayed in your head. The fireworks exploded, blush developed upon your cheeks, and then came the smile heâd do anything to see. Laughter bubbled within your chest and then he cupped the side of your face.Â
The moment his thumb brushed across the top of your cheek, you yelped and jerked back. A sharp hiss, a hand curling against your throbbing face, and an ache radiated through the orbital bone. You gritted your teeth, trying to be stronger than the pain coursing through you.Â
âWhat was that?â Chan questioned. He sat upright and held an outstretched arm to you, wanting to steady you. âWhat happened?âÂ
âItâs nothing.â You mumbled the words and gently rubbed the top of your cheek. The moment you did, you wince again.Â
âBabe?âÂ
âJust the fangirl next to me. It was an accident, thatâs all. She didnât mean to. She was so excited during the concert. Halfway through it, she got too excited and her lightstick collided with my eye socket.âÂ
His face fell. Gentle fingers curled around your chin and his eyes scanned the injured side of your face. âWhy didnât you tell me? I could have helped you.âÂ
âDo what? It was a piece of plastic to the eye socket. Really, Iâm fine.âÂ
âDonât bullshit me. No wonder this eye is puffy and red. I thought you rubbed it too hard or it was irritated from makeup. You should have told me right away.âÂ
âYouâd panic.âÂ
âYouâre right and thatâs exactly why youâre not getting on that flight tonight.âÂ
âBut IââÂ
He shook his head. âYou took care of me when I needed it the most, yeah? So let me take care of you now. Letâs find some ice and see how it is in the morning. Iâll have a member of management take us to urgent care if itâs worse in the morning. Iâll call your boss and personally explain what happened.âÂ
âYou donât have to do that,â you whispered.Â
âBut I love you, so I want to.â His fingers reached out and gently curled into your hands. âLet me love you the way you love me.â Thumbs trailed your knuckles, tracing the ridges of your bones.Â
âIs it selfish to ask if we can pick up where we left off?âÂ
His smirk caught you off guard. You yelped as he leaned forward and scooped his arms beneath your body. âDonât you worry, I know exactly where we were.âÂ
You might not have been back in your country and back at your place, but you were certainly right at home.Â
summary: loving Felix was easy. It was everything else that wasnât. The waiting. The canceled plans. The way âtomorrowâ always seemed more important than today. You tried to be patient. You tried to understand. But at some point, loving him started to feel like loving someone who wasnât really there.
a/n: this was lowkey inspired by Olivia Rodrigo's new album title. Can't wait for the album, imma be sooo inspireeed.
ââ .âŠ
His hands were warm against your skin, moving up and down, pressing into you. Your feet had been aching all day, but the pressure of his hands against your skin was making you bite your lip to keep yourself from making any sounds.
âFeels good?â he asks. From his tone alone, you knew he was smirking. Â
You nodded, without opening your eyes.Â
You had arrived an hour ago at your boyfriendâs apartment, complaining about work and how you had not sat in the past twelve hours, since your shift started.Â
You were studying to be a doctor. You used to think school was hard. Then the hospital started swallowing you whole. The worst part of all, you werenât getting paid for it yet. They were mandated hours you had to complete before you could actually call yourself a doctor.Â
Felix moved up your leg, your whole body reacted before your mind could catch up, and you had to bite your hand to avoid making any weird noises.
âLix, Lix,â you hurried to grab his hand to stop him. âI think thatâs all I can take today.â
âFeels better, though?â he asks. You hum, nodding and then smile.Â
âCanât wait to spend tomorrow together,â you mumble.Â
Felix smiles, but it twitches at the corner, like heâs trying not to give himself away, so you stare at him, your gaze dropping before you could stop it.
âLix,â you say, and he realizes immediately what you are going to say, following your gaze. He chuckles quietly and opens up your legs so he can lie down between them, placing his head in your chest.Â
âIgnore it. The sounds you were making kind of had an effect on me,â he says, and you laugh. You use all the strength you have and turn him around so you can be on top of him.Â
âLet me take care of you, too,â you mumble, and his eyes go wide for a second, putting his hands on your waist so you wonât put your whole weight on his hard member.Â
âBaby, Seungmin is here,â he warns. You smile sweetly while leaning down enough for your nose to touch his.Â
âHeâs asleep. He said he was too tired to even be third-wheeling today,â you repeat the exact words Seungmin had said after ten minutes of conversing with the two of you. âBesides, heâs probably already used to it.âÂ
âYou say that, but last time he caught us kissing, your ears turned as red as your sweatpants,â he said.Â
You smiled. âThatâs because your hand was on my boob.âÂ
He smiles too, and before he can say anything, you kiss him. Slow.Â
Not rushedâlike youâre giving him time to pull away if he wants to. Like youâre still asking.
Your lips barely brush his at first, soft enough that it almost doesnât count. A test â to see if he actually cares about Seungmin being not too far away.Â
He doesnât move.
For a second, you donât eitherâjust hover there, breath caught somewhere between you, close enough to feel the warmth of him, the quiet hitch in his inhale.
And then he exhales against your mouth, and thatâs all it takes.
You kiss him again, properly this timeâstill slow, but deeper. Intentional.
Your hand comes up without thinking, fingers curling lightly at the back of his neck, not pulling, just holding him there. Grounding yourself more than anything.
He respondsâfinallyâlike something in him gives in all at once. His hand softens on your waist, tentative at first, like heâs not sure if he should let go, and you let your weight press against his member. A soft moan escaped from his lips, and getting lost in yours.Â
The kiss lingers. Not desperate, not messyâjust full.Â
You move your hips slightly, and his grip gets strong again, stopping you.Â
âBaby,â he breathes hard. And you can almost see the thread his self-control is hanging from.
âHeâs asleep, baby,â you mumble, and attempt to move your hips again. He doesnât stop you this time, but closes his eyes tightly, moaning so softly you barely hear him. Your lips find his again, his mouth opening to give you access without you having to ask.Â
You continue moving your hips over his erection, the friction between your bodies making your thoughts blur with every movement.Â
Your lips travel lower, sucking slightly on his neck, being careful not to leave any marks.Â
You knew that with the type of job he had, you couldnât mark him the way you wanted to â the way he sometimes begged you to. So you didnât suck, just featherlight kisses that didnât show at all how bad you wanted him at that moment.Â
âBaby, please,â he groaned, his hips bucking up, seeking more friction.Â
You chuckled because usually, he is the one making you beg. âPlease, what?âÂ
âLet me fuck you,â he says, his hands grabbing your hips tighter, somehow pulling you closer to him.Â
You both moaned, and before either of you can move again, you hear the doorknob twisting, and you move as fast as you can off Felix. Felix gets up quickly and walks behind the couch on the other side, hiding his erection.Â
You cross your legs and hope that there aren't any wet spots on your sweatpants. You grab the bottle of water from the table and drink some of it, hoping your breathing will return to normal.Â
A second later, Kim Seungmin walks into the living room. Phone in hand, headphones in, and he sits beside you.Â
âYou guys wanna watch a movie? I canât sleep,â he says, grabbing the remote and taking the water bottle out of your hands to drink out of it.Â
âWh- what movie?â you ask, avoiding Felixâs gaze, knowing that the moment you looked at him, youâd start cracking up.Â
Seungmin hums, thinking.Â
âYou guys can watch it, Iâll go take a shower,â Felix says, and you have to bite your lip to not laugh.Â
Before Felix can leave the room, Seungmin says, âOh, Felix,â he calls him, and Felix and you both freeze. âYou should check the group chat; the manager has been trying to contact you.âÂ
Felix turns his face to look at his phone on the table. You laugh and take it on your hands before showing it to him.Â
He smiles at you, âIâll check it after I take a shower,â he mumbles, as if heâs afraid Seungmin will figure out why he canât just walk to you and grab his phone.Â
Felix disappears down the hall and Seungmin starts talking about the new kdrama in netflix. But your attention is on Felixâs screen.Â
Felix, Iâll pick you up tomorrow at 7.Â
Sorry, I know you wanted the day off, but things came up, and they want you tomorrow.Â
You mentioned you'd be gaming all day, so I can give you Friday off instead.Â
Your stomach sinks before your brain even finishes reading. You take a big sigh, and Seungmin looks at you, and he doesnât have to ask to know whatâs happening.Â
Because itâs the same story happening all over again.Â
And the voices get loud, because itâs always âtomorrowâ. It is always ânext timeâ, and it is always you pretending not to mind.
: ÌÌâ
Half an hour later, you are in Felixâs room. You are on your phone, checking your calendar, wishing you hadnât spent the whole week saving tomorrow like it was something precious, and wishing it was easier to just call your boss and tell them you couldnât work that day.Â
The last time you tried calling in sick, they made you come in anyway and handed you medicine before sending you to your shift.
It had been humiliating, especially because the nurse that had helped could clearly tell you werenât sick at all.Â
You hear the door open, and you donât move. Your back is facing Felix while you stare at your calendar. His phone is somewhere in the bed behind you, and you feel him reach to it.Â
After a minute, he sighs, and you know he read the message. Â
You turn off your screen and close your eyes, bringing the blanket closer to you.Â
âY/nâŠâ he whispers.Â
âI know, itâs alright,â you hurry to say. Mostly because you were still trying to convince yourself it was true.
You hadnât seen Felix for the past three weeks, and he had promised you two were going to spend the whole day together to make up for it. It was a pattern at this point, and you had no idea why it still hurt like this, even if it wasnât his fault, even if he had no power over it.Â
âIâm sorry,â he mumbles.Â
You donât say anything for a little, because somehow, him apologizing for it makes you annoyed âbecause he shouldnât. It wasnât his fault at the end of the day.Â
You gather whatever is left in you and turn around, opening your arms to him.Â
âItâs late. They are picking you up early tomorrow, you have to sleep,â you say, and smile. He doesnât smile back, because he is still feeling bad about it but he falls in your arms, his arms wrapping around your waist.Â
You close your eyes and try not to let the thoughts get into your head. And then he kisses your temple, and things feel alright.Â
When you wake up the next morning, Felix is gone.Â
: ÌÌâ
There are multiple moments that made you doubt your relationship with Felix.Â
It didnât happen often, but when it happened, it became a thought so big you could barely contain it, and Felix was never there to help you with it either.Â
You loved Felix, more than you had ever loved a boyfriend before. You met him a year ago, during one of his back pain check ups.Â
Felix was one of the nicest people youâve ever encountered in the hospital. It was unusual. You knew you had seen him before but you saw multiple people all day long so you never imagined he was the guy on the big poster on the bus stop⊠and everywhere around Seoul.Â
You guys started dating not long after. You have been together for nine months now and you had fallen head over heels for him. He was gentle in all the places your life had made rough. Not many flaws to count and you were sure he was your person.Â
But dating Felix came with conditions. You had to love him quietly, and sometimesâmost of the timeâfrom a distance. His love for you must not exist in front of anyone except you and the few people that are allowed to know.Â
You werenât used to it â to love someone with so many conditions.Â
You sighed, gathering all of your stuff after a twelve hour shift. Your coworkers existing around you, while they gathered their stuff too.Â
âDo you guys have anything to do after this?â one of your coworkers asked.Â
âI swear if you suggest going out to drink â,â someone else says. You chuckle, tired, taking your phone on your hand and checking your notifications; 2 messages from mom, 5 from your best friend, 0 from Felix.Â
âYouâd say yes,â they say.Â
âNot today, I feel like I have been beated up for twelve hours straight.â
âY/n,â you hear your other coworker. You look up from your screen. âDo you have any plans today?âÂ
You think about it for a moment. Short answer was no, long answer was that you didnât have energy to continue existing. Your plan was to go home, maybe try calling Felix and then going to sleep. So yes, maybe you did have plans.Â
âYes,â you say, putting your phone on your pocket.
âYou didnât know? Y/n has a boyfriend,â your other coworker says and you blush immediately. You hadnât say anything to them, she caught a glimpse of your wallpaper, which was a picture of Felixâs back, while he was holding your hand. But you couldnât see his face.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âYes, itâs the mysterious man of her wallpaper.âÂ
âWhy mysterious? Do you not want us to meet him? Are we not that close after working together three days a week for twelve hours for the past year or so?â she asks, and sheâs making all of these exaggerated expressions that make you laugh.Â
âIs he like an idol?â your other coworker says and you freeze for a moment, but then he continuous, âOr a mafia member? Or a CEO?â he says, and you laugh again. You donât know what to say, but thankfully, your other coworker says;Â
âY/n has always been secretive about her life. Leave her alone, guys,â and then they move on and start talking about something else.Â
You hate it because your coworker is wrong. You are not secretive about anything else in your life, and you wish you could love Felix as loudly as your heart wanted to.Â
: ÌÌâ
Next time the voices get loud, you were supposed to go out with Felix and a couple of your very close friends. The only one that had met Felix so far was Lia, your best friend, but your other friend was close enough to trust them about the big secret.Â
You were excited since the two most important parts of your life were finally meeting, but as you were finishing up your make up, you received a phone call from Felix.Â
You pick it up, excitedly, thinking he is probably outside already, but then he says, âBaby, Iâm sorryâŠâ and you feel your heart drops. Your excitement folds in on itselfnbefore he even finishes the sentence, because you already know whatâs coming. He gives you the same excuse as always; his job needs him. Chan got sick and canât record a line they are supposed to have ready by tomorrow. You say itâs okay, that you understand. And then he promises heâll make it up to you soon and that he loves you.Â
You think about cancelling plans with your friends, but itâs been a while since you last saw them, so you put your jacket and shoes on and head to the restaurant.Â
Lia is the first one to see you, she stands up, her face stays soft but her eyes give her away and you can see the moment she realizes Felix is not going to come.Â
âHey,â you say, before sitting on the other side of Lia. Your three friends are with their boyfriends, and you bow to each of them before taking a seat.Â
âDid you come alone? I thought you were coming with your boyfriend,â Haewon, your other friend asks.Â
âSomething came up,â you say, taking Liaâs glass to drink out of it.Â
âOh, no. I really wanted to meet him,â she pouts. âYou talk about him all the time, I bet he is wonderful.âÂ
âIâm sure you already know him,â Lia says.Â
Haewonâs eyebrows shoot up and she tiltes her head, waiting for her to continue. âStray Kidâs Felix,â Lia mumbles so low, as if someone passing by will caught up with their conversation.Â
Haewon laughs for a second, until she realizes Lia isnât joking because you are not laughing.Â
âThe blonde guy thatâs everywhere around the city?â she leans in, and you finally chuckle.Â
: ÌÌâ
The dinner passes by quickly. You had already met their boyfriendâs so it wasnât too awkward.Â
When itâs time to go home, Lia and her boyfriend go home first. Lia has a presentation tomorrow that she needs to study for. And Haewon and her boyfriend offer you a ride home, which you accept, because it is eleven at night, and you are tired.Â
âStray Kidsâ Felix,â Haewon mumbles from the front seat.Â
You donât answer because Felix isnât Stray Kidâs Felix to you. Heâs just Felix.Â
âCanât believe that out of the eight member in stray kids, you bagged the busiest one,â she says. âNo wonder he couldnât come today. He is basically in every corner in Seoul. He is booked and busy,â she says. And you love Haewon so much but you wish she would just be quiet.Â
So you look out the window, without saying anything.Â
âAre you okay?â She asks.Â
âYeah. Why?â You sigh.Â
She takes a moment, before saying; âyou look pretty sad for a girl so in love.âÂ
: ÌÌâ
Felix has to leave in two weeks. He has a tour. Thirty-four dates overseas, which means six months away, until he gets a break and comes back before he continues.Â
âThe doubt gets louder. Not all at once, but enough that you stop being able to pretend it is just a bad mood.â
Felix doesnât seem to notice â the way you stop texting back immediately, no matter how busy you are. Or the way you arenât asking anymore when can he come over, or when can you go over to his place. He doesnât seem to notice the way you start dimming.
The next time you two hang out, itâs Felix who insists on seeing you, exactly one week before he needs to leave.Â
He arrives late at night, all sweaty, and with his training clothes. He kisses you the moment you open the door for him and he holds you close by your waist.Â
âI missed you,â he says. You are so tired, you were fighting yourself to stay awake, waiting for him. So you just smile.Â
âAre you hungry?â You ask.Â
Something flickers across his face then, quick and scared, like he finally sees the distance sitting between you.
Felix shakes his head. âNo, just wanna be with you,â he says. And his hand doesnât let go of yours.Â
You smile, but still walk to your kitchen,and press one minute on the microwave, where Felixâs food is already waiting.
âIâm really not hungry. Can we go to bed?â you hear him mumble, and his voice comes out so small, like he already knowâs what you are about to say.Â
âI need to talk to you, Felix,âyou say, and you feel him tense before you even finish the sentence.
You had practiced this speech so many times, but now the words are just⊠gone.
âCan we do it tomorrow? Iâm really tired,â he says, as if itâs the first excuse he can grab onto.
âYou wonât have time tomorrow,â you say, your voice small again. You know how it sounds. You know itâll hurt him. Itâs still true.Â
He looks at you, like heâs waiting for it.Â
âI want to break up,â you say.Â
And the microwave starts beeping â the food you spent an hour and a half cooking was ready.Â
He doesnât seem surprised when you say it. âYou donât mean that,â he says, too quickly.Â
âFelix, Iâââ you are cut off by the knot in your throat. âIâve been thinking about it for a while, and I think itâs for the best,â you force yourself not to tear up, even when his touch feels like itâs burning now. âYouâd stop feeling so bad every time you need to cancel and I⊠Iâd stop having a ghost boyfriend,â you swallow.Â
Felixâs face changes.Â
Like something clicks too late.Â
Felix looks down at the floor, and it takes him a minute before he lets your hand go. âIâm sorry,â he says, and then he starts crying before he can stop himself.Â
Your body moves before your mind can stop it.Â
You pull him in.Â
And he lets you.Â
âIâm sorry,â he repeats, softer this time.Â
You donât know how long you stay like that.
At some point, his crying quiets down into uneven breaths, his face still buried in your shoulder like if he moves, itâll become real.
You almost take it back.
The words sit right there, at the back of your throat.
Stay.Weâll figure it out.I donât mean it.
But you donât say them.
Because youâve already stayed.
For months.
Eventually, he pulls away first.
Not fullyâjust enough to look at you.
His eyes are red, lashes clumped together, like he hasnât quite processed it yet.
Like heâs still hoping youâll fix it.
You donât.
âOkay,â he says.
And itâs so quiet it almost doesnât sound real.
He doesnât fight you.
Thatâs what hurts the most.
He just nods, once.
And then he lets go of you completely.
The apartment feels bigger after that.
Too big.
Too quiet.
Felix grabs his things slowly, like heâs buying timeâbut for what, you donât know.
He lingers by the door for a second.
âI love you,â he says then, like it slipped out before he could stop it.
And that almost breaks you.
Because you love him too.
That was never the problem.
âI know,â you whisper.
Your voice doesnât sound like yours.
He waits.
Like maybe youâll say it back.
You donât.
And you think thatâs when it really sinks in for him.
What are these dating rumors about Han on koreaboo.com? Genuinely i can only picture him ever talking about Lino when he talks about dating because that is in fact the only person he ever refers to lmao đ
Warnings: threesome, voyeurism oral sex, mxm and fxm, no protection
Summary: Chan has always been steady, but lately heâs been acting strangeâwatching a little too closely when Hanâs around. When the truth comes out, you realize your boyfriend doesnât just want you⊠he wants to watch you with him
Word Count: ~7.5k
You hadnât expected much when you first met Chan. It was through mutual friends, the kind of introduction you forget about five minutes later. Except you didnât. He was warm in a way that stuck with you, a smile that seemed too genuine for someone youâd just met. He asked questions and actually listened to your answers. You caught yourself thinking about him later, replaying little pieces of conversation like they were more important than they were.
The friendship turned into something more before either of you really said the words. You just⊠gravitated to each other. Long nights spent talking until your voices went hoarse, walking home in the cold and him pretending not to shiver so youâd keep his jacket. When he kissed you for the first time, it wasnât some movie-perfect build up. It was quiet, simple. He leaned in, you met him halfway, and it felt like youâd already been kissing him forever.
Being with Chan never felt forced. He wasnât over the top, but he was steady. He remembered the things you said in passing, the little details most people forget. He texted you reminders to eat when you got busy. He noticed when you were quiet and never pressed too hard, just sat next to you until you talked. Falling for him wasnât dramatic. It was like exhaling after holding your breath.
Dating Chan meant being folded into his group of friends sooner or later. They were loud, close in a way that felt almost like family. The first time you hung out with all of them you were nervous, but they didnât give you a chance to linger on it. Jokes flew across the room, someone shoving takeout menus into your hands, another offering you the last slice of pizza like it was a test you passed by taking it.
Seungmin was the one who made you laugh first. He cracked a joke at Chanâs expense that had the whole room groaning, and the way he grinned at you, waiting for your reaction, made you laugh harder than you meant to. He seemed pleased with himself, and you didnât mind. He was quick like that, sharp but light hearted. The kind of person who filled in silences without making it feel heavy.
It wasnât just one of them, though. The whole group had a rhythm, a constant back and forth you found yourself pulled into. It was easy to see why Chan loved them, and why they leaned on him so much. He was their centre of gravity.
It became a regular thingâpeople dropping by your apartment, sometimes just one or two, sometimes the whole crowd. The air filled with laughter, arguments over video game scores, debates over who got to pick the next movie.
You didnât always join in. Sometimes you sat back on the couch, legs tucked under you, watching Chan light up in ways he didnât always when it was just the two of you. Around his friends, his shoulders were looser, his smile easier. You liked that version of him.
More often than not, Han ended up on the couch next to you. He never asked, he just flopped down like he belonged there. Half the time he was too busy trash talking someone across the room to notice how close heâd landed. He was comfortable like that, like being part of the furniture.
âDonât let him fool you,â Chan would call from the floor when Han was being particularly ridiculous. âHeâs not that funny.â
Youâd roll your eyes, laugh anyway, and Han would wink like heâd won something. It was harmless, easy, nothing worth thinking about.
When everyone left, the apartment always felt twice as quiet. You and Chan would move around each other automaticallyâclearing glasses, folding blankets, putting things back where they belonged. At some point heâd pull you toward him, tucking you into his chest, pressing his lips to your hair.
âThanks for putting up with the chaos,â heâd murmur.
Youâd smile against him. âI like it.â
And you did. You liked the noise, the mess, the way it showed you parts of him you might not have seen otherwise. The way he teased back, the way he softened when one of them was down, the way they all trusted him to keep them steady.
Still, the best part was always when the door finally clicked shut and it was just the two of you again. His arms, his warmth, the quiet certainty that you belonged right where you were.
At that point, everything felt simple. You and Chan, steady and solid. His friends weaving in and out of your lives, adding laughter and noise. Nights that ended with your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear.
If there was more to notice, more to question, you hadnât seen it yet.
For you, it was enough.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
At first, you didnât think much of it. Chan had always been the type to keep his door open, to tell friends to come over whenever. But in the weeks that followed, you started noticing that one face appeared more than the others.
Han.
It wasnât every night, but it was often enough that you started expecting the knock, the sound of his voice in the hallway, and the way he always made himself at home on your couch.
Chan never seemed surprised to see him. In fact, he always looked a little too pleased.
âHanâs coming over,â heâd mention offhand, like it wasnât already obvious. Or, âI told Han to swing by.â
You didnât mind. Han was easy to be around. He filled in the silences with jokes, dragged Chan out of his broody moods, and kept the atmosphere light. If anything, his presence made evenings more fun. But what you didnât notice yetâwhat you couldnât knowâwas that for Chan, this was exactly the point.
One Friday evening, the three of you ended up watching some random action movie none of you were paying attention to. You were curled against Chan, his arm warm around your shoulders, while Han sprawled on the other end of the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
Halfway through, Han leaned across to pass you the bowl. Your fingers brushed his when you took it, and you laughed when he immediately accused you of ârigging itâ by fishing out the biggest pieces.
Chan chuckled too, but when you tilted your head up to look at him, he wasnât laughing at the joke. His eyes were on your hand where it had brushed Hanâs. For a split second his expression shiftedâsharp, almost hungryâbefore he caught himself and smiled at you like nothing was wrong.
âDonât let her get away with it,â he teased Han, pressing a kiss against your hair. âSheâll steal all the good ones.â
The air felt normal enough, so you let it go. What you didnât notice was the way Chan shifted slightly under the blanket, pressing his thighs together, hiding the way his body had reacted.
It kept happening in little ways.
Game nights where you and Han ended up shoulder to shoulder, leaning forward, laughing when you bumped into each other in your rush to win. Your thigh brushing his when he dropped onto the couch too close, too casually. Even simple moments in the kitchen, reaching for the same glass at the same time, your hands knocking together as you both laughed.
You thought it was harmless. You didnât see anything in it.
But Chan was always there. Sometimes with his arm clamped firmly around your waist, sometimes pulling you down into his lap halfway through the evening, sometimes kissing your shoulder like he couldnât resist. He wasnât subtle about claiming you, but it didnât feel like jealousy. It felt like⊠intensity.
And every time, you noticed the heat in his gaze when he watched you and Han laugh together, the way his chest rose a little faster when you leaned close to Han without realizing.
Once, you caught him glance across you at Han. Not a warning look. Not protective. Something else entirelyâsomething you didnât recognize yet. And Han, to your surprise, didnât flinch. He only arched an eyebrow back at Chan, the corner of his mouth twitching like theyâd shared some unspoken joke.
You shook your head and focused back on the game, missing the way Chan shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust the hardness pressing against his jeans.
One afternoon you came home to find Han already there, sitting cross-legged on the floor while Chan leaned back on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees. They were laughing about something youâd missed, voices bright, comfortable.
âFinally,â Han said when he saw you, dramatic relief in his voice. âSave me from this guy lecturing me about compression settings.â
Chan glanced up, smile softening immediately when he saw you. âHey, baby.â He reached for your hand as you passed, tugging you down onto the couch.
As you settled against him, you felt the hard line pressing into your hip. You frowned slightly, shifting, but Chan only kissed your temple like nothing was unusual.
Han noticed. You didnât.
Another night, another movie. This time Han came back from the kitchen and dropped down beside you instead of his usual corner. The couch wasnât small, but it wasnât big either, and the shift meant his thigh brushed yours.
It shouldâve been nothing. Just closeness. You didnât move away, and neither did he.
But Chan noticed. He always noticed.
His arm around you tightened, pulling you closer against his chest. His breath hitched, just enough for you to feel it, before he pressed a long kiss into your hair. His other hand stroked absent patterns against your side, soothing, steadyâbut the bulge pressing against your lower back betrayed him.
When you glanced up questioningly, his eyes were already on you. He smiled, kissed you again, and whispered, âLove you.â
It felt like reassurance. You didnât realize it was excitement.
The more it happened, the clingier Chan became. He pulled you into his lap more often, kissed you longer in front of Han, touched you like he was proving something.
You teased him about it once, nudging his shoulder. âYouâre extra cuddly lately.â
He grinned, leaning in to kiss you. âWhat? Canât a guy want to hold his girlfriend?â
You laughed, shaking your head, and settled against him. You didnât see the way his eyes darted past you to Han, who smirked knowingly before focusing back on the TV.
Later that night, as you stretched out to grab the remote, your shirt riding up slightly, Chan let out a low sound behind you. You turned, surprised, catching him shifting again, eyes fixed on where Hanâs gaze had accidentally lingered on your waist.
He caught your stare, winked quickly, then pulled you down into a kiss before you could ask questions.
For you, these weeks felt balanced. Comfortable.
You had Chan steady, affectionate, always reminding you with every touch that you were his. You had Hanâloud, funny, an easy friend who made evenings brighter.
If Chanâs clinginess felt more urgent than before, you chalked it up to him being affectionate. If you sometimes caught something unreadable in his eyes when you and Han laughed together, you brushed it off.
You didnât know yet what he wanted. What he was craving.
All you knew was that life felt full. Warm.
And if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, if Chanâs desire was twisting into something stranger, something he hadnât told you yetâyou were still blissfully unaware.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
You werenât the type to overthink things. At least, not usually. But lately⊠something about Chanâs behavior had been sticking in your mind.
It wasnât just that Han was around more. It wasnât just that Chan seemed clingier, touchier. It was the way his eyes lingered when you and Han laughed at the same joke, the way he shifted against you when Hanâs leg brushed yours, the way his smile sometimes looked sharper than soft.
You didnât want to believe it was weird. Maybe it wasnât. Maybe you were imagining things. But then there were momentsâtiny flashesâthat unsettled you.
Like the night you leaned across Han to grab the remote, brushing his arm in the process. When you turned back, Chan was watching, pupils blown, his jaw tight. He didnât look angry. He looked⊠aroused.
And then, just as quickly, he winked at Han.
Han hadnât reacted much, just raised his brows like he wasnât surprised. Youâd swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to the TV, but your thoughts had been loud all night.
You didnât say anything to Chan. Not yet. But the questions were stacking up.
He could tell you were starting to notice.
The way your eyes sometimes lingered on him after those little moments, the frown tugging at your lips like you were trying to puzzle him out. He didnât mind. In fact, part of him wanted you to see.
But not too soon. Not before he set it up right.
That night, after youâd gone to bed, he lingered in the kitchen with Han. The place was quiet except for the hum of the fridge, shadows stretching across the counter.
Han leaned back against it, arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. âYouâre not exactly subtle, you know.â
Chan huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. âYeah? And youâre not exactly complaining.â
Han tilted his head, studying him. âI figured something was going on. Youâve been watching her likeââ he cut himself off, grinning, ââwell, letâs just say itâs not hard to guess.â
Chanâs mouth curled. He hesitated for a beat, then asked, âWhat do you think of her?â
Han blinked, caught off guard by the directness. âY/N?â
âYeah.â Chanâs voice was steady, low. âBe honest.â
Han shrugged, pretending to think, though his expression gave him away. âSheâs great. Funny. Sweet. Easy to be around. Honestly⊠sheâs hot, man. Iâd have to be blind not to notice.â
Chanâs chest tightened, not with jealousy but with something hotter, darker. Exactly what he wanted to hear.
He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping. âI want you to. Notice her.â
Hanâs brows lifted. âYou meanââ
âI want her with you,â Chan said, the words spilling out easier than he expected. âI want to watch. I want to see her with you. I want her to want it.â
Han stared for a beat, then let out a low whistle. âDamn. Thatâs⊠not what I expected you to say tonight.â
Chan smirked faintly, though his pulse was hammering. âYouâve picked up on it already, right? The way Iâve been⊠letting things happen. The touches. The closeness. Sheâs noticing, even if she doesnât realize it yet. Sheâll get curious. Thatâs how Iâll bring it up.â
Han rubbed the back of his neck, still watching him. âAnd youâre sure she wonât just freak out?â
âI know her,â Chan said firmly. âShe trusts me. And Iâll make sure she knows sheâs safe. It wonât happen unless she agrees. But she will. I can see it in her eyes already.â
Han let out a breath, then chuckled. âYouâre crazy, you know that?â
âMaybe,â Chan admitted, lips curving. âSo? Are you in?â
Han was quiet for a long moment, then finally nodded. âYeah. Iâm in.â
The relief that washed over Chan was electric. He clapped Han on the shoulder, grinning in a way he hadnât in weeks. âGood. Then we wait. Sheâll come around. Iâll make sure of it.â
Han shook his head, still laughing softly. âYouâre seriously something else, man.â
Maybe. But Chanâs mind was already racing aheadâto the look on your face when you realized what he wanted, to the moment you gave in, to the sight of you with Han while he finally got what heâd been craving.
For now, though, heâd play the game. Keep touching you, keep letting those little moments happen, keep letting you notice just enough to wonder.
It was only a matter of time.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
The night started like all the others. A knock on the door, Hanâs familiar voice calling out before he even stepped inside.
You moved quickly to greet him, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him in a friendly hug. It wasnât unusualâyou hugged all of Chanâs friendsâbut Han always hugged you back a little tighter, his laugh warm in your ear.
When you pulled away and turned back toward the living room, your steps faltered.
Chan was standing there, trying to play it casual, but there was no hiding it. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, and the bulge pressing against his jeans was impossible to miss.
Heat shot through you, equal parts shock and confusion.
Han followed your gaze, and when he saw it too, his lips curled into the faintest smirk. Not mocking, not surprisedâjust amused, like heâd expected this all along. His eyes flicked between you and Chan knowingly before he strolled past, heading straight for the couch like nothing had happened.
Your pulse was racing, but you forced yourself to move, pretending you hadnât noticed even though the image burned behind your eyelids.
The night passed in a blur.
The three of you sat through a movie you couldnât remember, your body tense against Chanâs as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple like everything was normal. Han cracked jokes from the other side of the couch, his laughter filling the room. Every now and then, when you dared to glance up, you caught him looking at you with that same faint smirk.
By the time Han left, you were wound so tight you felt like you might snap.
âSee you, Y/N,â Han said at the door, his tone light, easy. But there was something in his eyes when he looked at youâsomething that told you he knew exactly what youâd seen, exactly what you were thinking.
You mumbled a quick goodbye, closing the door behind him.
And then it was just you and Chan.
You turned to face him, heart thudding. âChan.â
He smiled softly, already stepping toward you, hands reaching for your waist. âHey.â
You stopped him with a hand on his chest. âDonât. I⊠I saw.â
He froze. For a second, the air between you was too heavy, too silent. Then, instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed you.
His mouth was soft but urgent, his hands pulling you close like he could melt the moment away. Normally, you wouldâve kissed him back, let yourself sink into him. But not this time.
You pulled away, breathless. âNo. Donât try to distract me.â
His jaw clenched, eyes flickering with something you couldnât read. He held your gaze for a long moment, then sighed, his forehead pressing briefly against yours.
âYou saw?â
You swallowed hard. âYou were hard. From⊠me and Han.â
He didnât deny it. Instead, his lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. âYeah.â
Your stomach flipped. âWhy? Why would youââ
âI like it,â he interrupted quietly, his voice steady, deliberate. âI like seeing you with him. I like watching you get close. It turns me on more than anything.â
You stared at him, words caught in your throat.
He reached up, cupping your cheek. âI want it, Y/N. I want you with him. I want to watch you. To see you with him right in front of me.â
Your pulse pounded in your ears. âYou mean⊠you want me to sleep with him. While you watch.â
âYes.â His eyes burned into yours, no hesitation, no shame. âThatâs exactly what I want.â
You pulled back slightly, shaking your head as if it might clear the fog in your brain. âChan, thatâs⊠I donât understand. Why would you want that? Youâre my boyfriend. Why would you want me with someone else?â
He stepped closer again, his voice low, almost desperate. âBecause itâs you. Because I trust him, and I trust you, and the thought of seeing you like thatâseeing you taken apart right in front of meâit drives me crazy. Not because I donât want you. Because I want you so much it overflows.â
Your mouth was dry, your chest tight. âThatâs insane.â
âMaybe,â he admitted with a soft laugh, though his eyes never wavered. âBut itâs what I want.â
You hugged your arms around yourself, trying to steady your breathing. âAnd Han? Does he know?â
For a split second, Chanâs smile gave him away.
âOh my god.â Your heart leapt into your throat. âHe does know. He knew tonight, didnât he? Thatâs why heââ
âHe knows,â Chan confirmed simply. âAnd heâs fine with it. More than fine.â
You pressed a hand to your forehead, dizzy with the thought. âYou planned this.â
âI didnât force anything,â Chan said quickly, his hands brushing your arms, trying to soothe you. âBut yeah, I told him. I wanted to make sure heâd be okay with it if⊠if it ever happened. I wouldnât push you into it, Y/N. Not ever. But if you wanted it tooâŠâ His voice dropped. âItâd be everything Iâve ever wanted.â
You stared at him, struggling to process.
Part of you wanted to be angry, to tell him how crazy this was, how insane it sounded for your boyfriend to want you with someone else. But another partâthe part you didnât want to admit to yourselfâfelt heat pooling low in your stomach, your body responding before your mind could.
The image flashed unbidden in your head: Hanâs hands on you, Chan watching from across the room, his eyes dark and hungry.
You squeezed your thighs together, cursing yourself silently.
âY/N,â Chan murmured, tilting your chin up. âTalk to me. What are you thinking?â
You forced a shaky laugh. âIâm thinking my boyfriendâs a freak.â
His grin widened, unbothered. âMaybe.â He kissed your forehead, gentle. âBut Iâm your freak.â
You rolled your eyes, brushing him off. âI canâtâChan, I canât think about this right now.â
âOkay,â he said simply, kissing your temple again before letting you go. âThatâs okay. You donât have to.â
Later that night, you lay in bed beside him, your body tense under the covers. His breathing evened out quickly, but yours stayed shallow, your mind running circles around itself.
You shouldâve been disgusted. You shouldâve been unsettled. And maybe you were, a little. But the truthâthe secret truth you refused to say out loudâwas that the thought had your body betraying you.
Every time you closed your eyes, the image replayed: Hanâs smirk, Chanâs dark gaze, the way his cock strained against his jeans when he saw you close to another man.
You shifted under the sheets, thighs pressing together, a pulse of heat between your legs. You hated yourself for it, hated the way your body ached, hated that you were wet from the very thought of what Chan had confessed.
You turned your face into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut.
It didnât matter. You wouldnât tell him. Youâd sleep it off. Youâd brush it away in the morning.
But deep down, you knew you wouldnât forget.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
Youâd been restless for days. No matter how many times you told yourself to drop it, Chan confession stayed lodged in your mind, replaying like a song you couldnât escape. I want to watch you with him.
It made no senseâyour boyfriend wanting to see you with his best friendâbut the more you turned it over, the more your body betrayed you. A single intrusive image of Hapâs lips against yours, his hands gripping your hips while Chan sat in the corner, eyes glued to the scene⊠it was enough to make you wet even when you tried to shake it away.
Tonight, you couldnât deny it anymore.
Chan was sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, when you walked into the living room. He glanced up at you with that lazy, teasing smile that always made your chest flutter.
âHey, baby,â he drawled. âYou look serious.â
You stood there, heart pounding, your mouth suddenly dry. âI⊠Iâve been thinking.â
His eyebrow arched. âYeah?â
You swallowed hard, then finally let it spill: âIâll do it. With Han. If you really want me to⊠Iâll let you watch.â
For a beat, the room froze. Chanâs phone slipped from his fingers and hit the cushion with a soft thud. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and then his lips parted into the kind of grin that was half relief, half feral hunger.
âFuck, baby,â he rasped, pushing up from the couch in one fluid motion. His hands were on your waist before you could blink, dragging you against him. He kissed you hard, messy, like he was already thanking you for a gift heâd been dying for.
âYou mean it?â he asked, breathless.
âYes.â
Chan groaned into your neck, grinding his already hard cock against your hip. âYou donât know how long Iâve been waiting to hear that.â
Before you could reply, he pulled back, excitement buzzing in his veins. âGo grab some food. Anything. Just give me, like⊠twenty minutes.â
Confused but too flustered to question, you slipped on your shoes and left.
The moment the door shut, Chan was on his phone, calling Han. His voice was low and urgent. âItâs happening. She said yes.â
There was a pause on the other end, then Hanâs laugh, light but nervous. âYouâre serious?â
âDead serious. Get over here now.â
Han hesitated. âYouâre really sure you want this?â
Chanâs lips curled. âMore than anything. Iâll sit back. Iâll watch. Just⊠do it with her. Make her feel good. Let me see it.â
Another pause, then Han exhaled hard. âAlright. Iâll be there.â
By the time you returned, food bag dangling from your hand, Chan was already waiting by the door. His eyes were wild, cheeks flushed, his whole body humming with energy.
âUpstairs,â he said, taking the bag from you and setting it aside. His hand pressed to the small of your back as he guided you up the steps, heart hammering against your spine.
The bedroom door was open. And there, perched on the edge of the bed, was Han.
He looked up at you, nervous but smiling, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. The sight of him waiting made your stomach flip violently.
Chan leaned down, lips brushing your ear. âRemember, baby. Youâre mine. But tonight, Iâm gonna let you give yourself to him.â
Your throat went dry, your legs trembling. Han stood slowly, his eyes flicking from you to Chan and back. âYouâre sure?â he asked softly.
You nodded. âI⊠yeah. Iâm sure.â
Chan stepped away, moving toward the chair in the corner. He sat, legs spread, already hard under his sweats, one hand resting on his thigh as he watched the two of you. His breathing was rough, his eyes hooded, fixed entirely on you.
The room felt like it was shrinking. Han stepped closer, his hand lifting to brush your cheek. âIf you want me to stopâŠâ
âIâll tell you,â you whispered.
He leaned in. The kiss was hesitant at first, lips soft, testing, but the heat between you ignited quickly. Within seconds it grew hungrier, tongues sliding, teeth grazing, your hands gripping the front of his shirt.
Chan groaned from the chair, the sound low and raw. You felt the heat spike between your thighs instantly, knowing he was watching every flick of Hanâs tongue against yours.
Hanâs hands slipped to your waist, tugging you flush against him. You felt the hardness pressing against his jeans, your stomach clenching with want. He deepened the kiss, his teeth catching your lower lip, sucking it before letting it go.
You gasped softly, chest heaving. Han's eyes burned into yours. âFuck⊠you taste good.â
From the corner, Chan exhaled sharply, his palm dragging over the bulge in his sweats. âThatâs it, baby. Let him kiss you.â
Han tugged gently at your shirt, his fingers brushing your stomach as he pulled it up and over your head. Your bra barely contained you, nipples already pebbling. His thumbs grazed over the peaks, and you moaned into his mouth.
Chan shifted in the chair, groaning under his breath, his hand squeezing himself through the fabric.
Hanâs lips travelled down your neck, sucking lightly, leaving marks along your collarbone. His hands slid behind your back, unclasping your bra in one swift movement. He dropped it to the floor, then pulled one nipple into his mouth, tongue circling, teeth scraping lightly.
You cried out, clutching his hair, your hips pressing against his thigh for friction.
Chanâs chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes locked on Hanâs mouth tugging at your breast. His knuckles whitened as he stroked himself, barely restraining the urge to jump in.
Hanâs mouth trailed lower, over your stomach, down to the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flicked up at you. âCan I?â
âYes,â you breathed.
He unbuttoned them, tugging them down along with your panties. You stood bare before him, heat rushing to your cheeks, your body trembling with both nerves and lust.
Chan let out a strangled groan, his hand moving faster, eyes burning into the sight of you naked before Han.
Han guided you gently onto the mattress, parting your thighs as he settled between them. He kissed your inner thighs slowly, teasingly, each press of his lips closer to your aching center.
âGod, youâre beautiful,â he murmured.
Then his tongue pressed against your clit, a slow, deliberate lick that made your whole body jolt.
You gasped, hips lifting, fingers digging into the sheets. âOh, fuckââ
Chanâs groan from the corner was loud now, ragged. He had his cock fully in his hand, stroking in long, rough pulls as he watched Hanâs mouth disappear between your legs.
Han licked again, circling, flicking, then sucking your clit between his lips. His fingers slid inside you, curling upward until you cried out. He moved in tandem, tongue and fingers working together, drawing wet sounds from your body that made Chan bite back curses.
Your thighs clenched around Hanâs head, your body rocking against his mouth. âOh my god, Hapââ
Chan's voice cut in, low and wrecked. âThatâs it, baby. Ride his face. Show me how good he makes you feel.â
You couldnât stop. The tension built fast, sharp, unbearable. Hanâs tongue flicked harder, his fingers pounding inside you, and your orgasm ripped through you with a scream. Your back arched, hips jerking as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.
Han pulled back slowly, his lips glistening, your slick smeared across his mouth and chin. He licked his lips shamelessly, eyes burning into yours. âYou taste⊠fucking amazing.â
You collapsed against the bed, trembling, trying to catch your breath. Hap crawled up, kissing you messily, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
Chan moaned loudly, almost violently, his fist pumping faster. His face was twisted with arousal, his chest slick with sweat. He hadnât touched either of you, but he looked like he was already close just from watching.
You pulled Han closer, your heart racing, your whole body still humming with the aftermath.
From the corner, Chan's dark voice sliced through the haze: âYouâre mine. Both of you. But tonight⊠fuck, tonight youâre perfect.â
And for the first time, you realized this was only the beginning.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
The room still smelled like sex. Your thighs trembled where Han had left them spread, your skin tingling where his mouth had just ruined you. You were still gasping when you heard the scrape of a chair.
Chan.
He stood, towering, his cock thick and flushed, hanging heavy in his hand. His knuckles were white from the way heâd been stroking himself, but his eyes â dark, blown wide with lust â were fixed on you.
âFuck,â he rasped, voice breaking. âI canât just sit there anymore.â
Han glanced up, chest heaving, lips shiny with your slick. He didnât move, but the way his tongue darted to taste you again told you he didnât regret a thing.
Chan crossed the room in a few strides. He didnât climb on the bed â not yet. Instead, he cupped your face with one trembling hand and leaned down, kissing you like a man starved. You whimpered into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he licked inside desperately.
âYou let him eat you out,â Chan murmured against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. âYou let me watch. God, baby, youâre perfect.â
Your hand found his cock, hot and throbbing in your grip. He groaned loudly, hips jerking into your palm. âOpen your mouth,â he ordered, voice hoarse.
You obeyed.
Chan guided the head of his cock to your lips, smearing precum across them. He pushed in slow, groaning as the wet heat of your mouth closed around him.
âThatâs it, baby,â he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. âFuck, look at you⊠with him still between your legs.â
Because Han hadnât moved. In fact, Hanâs hand slid higher again, fingers pressing back into your soaked cunt, curling until your thighs clenched. The angle had you choking around Chanâs cock as another moan tore from your throat.
âHoly fuck,â Chan growled, hips rolling shallowly into your mouth. âSheâs moaning on my cock while you finger her.â
Han smirked faintly, glancing up at him. âFeels good, doesnât it?â
Chanâs jaw flexed. He thrust a little deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and you gagged softly, eyes watering. He yanked back just enough to let you breathe, then slid in again.
You were drowning in sensation â Hanâs fingers pistoning into you, Chan fucking your mouth, the two of them circling you like predators who finally decided to share.
It happened almost by accident. Chan pulled back to let you gasp for air, his hand still tangled in your hair. Han shifted up your body, kissing your jaw, and for a moment Chan and Hanâs faces were only inches apart.
Their eyes locked.
You saw the tension snap in real time. Chan tilted his head first, crashing their mouths together. It was fierce, sloppy, desperate â a clash of tongues and teeth above you. Han groaned into it, his hand never leaving your cunt, still thrusting into you even as Chan devoured his mouth.
The sight alone made your hips buck. Two men kissing over you, sharing the taste of you on Hanâs tongue, Chan moaning like heâd lost control.
âFuck,â Chan panted as they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together. âYou taste like her.â
âYeah,â Han muttered, licking his lips. âI could get addicted.â
Chan slid onto the bed finally, pressing his knees into the mattress beside your head. His cock slapped against your lips again, wet and flushed. âOpen up, baby. Donât make me beg.â
You parted your mouth, and he slid back in, fucking deeper this time, his groans vibrating through his chest. Hanâs fingers pumped harder inside you, his thumb circling your clit mercilessly.
The mix was devastating. Your body writhed, your throat stretched around Chanâs cock, Han dragging moans from your soaked cunt.
âSheâs shaking,â Han muttered, his other hand gripping your thigh tight.
âMake her come again,â Chan growled. âDo it while Iâm down her throat.â
Hanâs smirk widened. He twisted his fingers just right, pressing that spot that made your vision go white, and you convulsed violently, climax tearing through you again.
You screamed around Chanâs cock, gagging as you did, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. He groaned loudly, pulling out just enough to let spit and slick drip down your chin.
âBeautiful,â he breathed, rubbing his cock across your swollen lips. âMessy little slut.â
Chan leaned down suddenly, grabbing Hanâs jaw and kissing him again, even filthier this time. You watched through hazy eyes as they swapped your spit between them, Chan moaning into Hanâs mouth while his cock rested heavy against your cheek.
Han broke the kiss to murmur against his lips, âLet me fuck her.â
Chanâs pupils blew even wider. He nodded, jaw tight. âDo it. But Iâm not letting go of her mouth.â
Han stripped his jeans off in seconds, cock hard and dripping. He positioned himself between your thighs, lining up.
âReady?â he asked you softly.
You nodded frantically, already desperate.
The first push was slow, stretching you inch by inch. You cried out against Chanâs cock as Han filled you, your body arching off the mattress.
Chan groaned above you. âHoly fuck, Han. Look at her take you.â
Han buried himself to the hilt, his head falling forward, his breath harsh. âSheâs so tightâfuck.â
Chan shoved back into your mouth, moaning raggedly as the rhythm built: Han fucking into you, Chan using your throat, the two of them occasionally kissing above you while they ruined you together.
Hanâs thrusts grew deeper, harder, his hips slamming into you with a steady rhythm that had your whole body rocking up the bed. Every snap of his hips shoved a needy moan up your throat â only to be swallowed by Chanâs cock as it slid deep into your mouth.
You were overwhelmed, tears streaking down your face, drool dripping past your lips, your body strung so tight you felt like youâd shatter.
Chanâs voice cracked above you, raw with arousal. âYou feel that, baby? Youâre getting split open on his cock while you choke on mine. Youâre fucking perfect.â
Han groaned low in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut as he bottomed out again. âSheâs so wetâfuck, sheâs clenching so hard already.â
Chan tightened his grip in your hair and angled your head back, fucking your throat with longer, sharper strokes. His moans grew guttural, mixing with Hanâs grunts and the wet slap of skin on skin.
You gagged, choked, came up gasping for air â only for Chan to shove back inside. He pulled out just far enough to let strings of spit stretch from your lips to his cock, groaning at the sight.
âMessy girl,â he rasped. âGod, Han, look at her. Look at what weâre doing to her.â
Han slowed for a moment, leaning down to catch your lips. He kissed you hot and desperate, tasting Chanâs cock still lingering on your tongue. The angle made him grind deeper into you, and you moaned into his mouth, your cunt clenching violently around him.
Bang let out a dark laugh. âSharing my girl, huh?â
Without warning, he leaned down and kissed Han again. This time, it wasnât hesitant. Their tongues tangled, sloppy and wet above you, groaning into each otherâs mouths as Han kept thrusting inside you.
You clenched at the sight, your body pulsing. Watching them lose themselves in each other while using you as the anchor was too much.
Han broke the kiss just long enough to pant against Chanâs lips, âYou want to taste yourself?â
Chan growled low and crashed their mouths together again, sucking your taste straight from Hanâs tongue while his cock twitched in your mouth.
Han pulled back only to lift one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle. The new thrusts had him hitting deeper, grinding against that perfect spot until you were screaming around Chanâs cock.
Your body jerked, your nails clawing at the sheets, your throat stuffed full while your pussy clenched hard around Hanâs length.
âSheâs close,â Han grunted, his pace ruthless now.
âGood,â Chan moaned, thrusting harder into your mouth. âMake her cum on your cock. I want to feel her throat tighten while she does.â
The demand was too much. Hanâs thumb found your clit, circling fast, and the orgasm ripped through you like lightning. Your vision went white, your body convulsing, muffled screams strangled by Chanâs cock.
Chan hissed through his teeth, pulling out just long enough to watch you writhe and squirt down Hanâs thighs, your juices slicking his cock as he pounded through your climax.
âHoly fuck,â Chan groaned, palming himself desperately. âSheâs soaking you.â
Chan climbed onto the bed fully now, kneeling beside you. His cock, slick with your spit, brushed Hanâs hip as he leaned down.
âYou want more?â he asked, voice dark. âOr do you want to see how she looks with both of us inside her?â
Hanâs eyes widened, his hips stuttering, but the way his cock twitched inside you gave away the answer. âFuckâyeah. Yeah, I want that.â
Your body trembled at the thought, overstimulated and still desperate. You nodded frantically. âYesâplease.â
Chan smirked wickedly. âGood girl.â
He kissed Han again â slower this time, tongue dragging, filthy and hot. Then he pulled back, guiding Han to still inside you. Chan sat you up and moved behind you, he positioned himself lower, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance alongside Hanâs.
You gasped, the stretch unreal as he slowly pushed in beside his friend, the two of them groaning loudly as they filled you together.
âHoly shit,â Han muttered, his jaw tight. âSheâs so fucking tightââ
Chan snarled against his throat. âAnd sheâs mine.â
The rhythm was chaotic at first â both of them shifting, finding the pace, your cunt stretched and stuffed full, every nerve ending alight. Soon it synced: Hanâs thrusts deep and heavy, Chan grinding into you alongside him, their hips slamming together as they fucked you full.
You screamed, nails clawing at their shoulders, your body overwhelmed by the stretch and the heat.
âTake it, baby,â Chan growled in your ear, his breath ragged. âTake both of us.â
Hanâs hand found your clit again, circling mercilessly. Your whole body spasmed, tears streaming down your face as another orgasm tore through you, soaking the sheets.
âFuck!â Han shouted, hips jerking as you clamped down around him.
Chan groaned gutturally, his head thrown back. âSheâs milking us both.â
Chan pulled out suddenly, stroking himself furiously. âOn her face,â he barked, glancing at Han. âLetâs ruin her.â
Han groaned and pulled out too, stroking his slick cock as he hovered above you. Both of them stroked in tandem, eyes locked on your tear-streaked, wrecked face.
You opened your mouth willingly, tongue out, moaning for them.
Chan cursed loudly, his cock jerking as he spilled across your lips and cheeks, hot spurts painting your face. Han followed seconds later, groaning your name as his cum streaked across your tongue and chin, mixing with Chanâs.
They collapsed around you, panting, their bodies slick with sweat.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sounds were gasps for breath, the distant hum of the city outside the window.
Then Chan reached for you, gentle now, wiping your face with a discarded shirt. He kissed your temple softly, his voice raw but tender. âYou okay, baby?â
You nodded weakly, your body limp but warm in his arms.
Han brushed your hair back from your damp face, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. âYouâre incredible,â he murmured.
Chan met his eyes over your body. Something unspoken passed between them â not regret, not shame. Just raw satisfaction.
He kissed you again, slow and deep, tasting Han still lingering on your tongue. âWeâll take care of you,â he promised. âAlways.â
And wrapped between both their bodies, utterly spent and blissful, you believed him.
