A Haven for Erogenous Studies. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Navigation for @tyunningism
ιη ƒℓαмєѕ αη∂ αηgυιѕн — Hell's hottest where the lust of the mind ignites the psyche. His knees are torn. Battered and Bruised. Hands clasped until flesh felt tender as he begs for exoneration. but he's foolish ... for he couldn't extinguish the flames of desire that burn him down to his sinful carcass from within.
📞ʜᴇʟʟᴏ?…ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ є๓๓є! 🍊small overview of the writer on the other end ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 20, GMT timezone, she/her, tyunning and heejake truther, nsfw blog mdni !!, cn, discord- tyunningism, inbox is open!!, started writing . 08/06/25
𝚆: cursing-verbal aggression, threats of violence (against other men), revenge porn (nudes) threats.
𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚒'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: who would u dislike having as your ex more? i could probably handle all of their dumbasses except tyun's. i would drown in my tears if someone talked to me like that.
synopsis: When your scholarship at Decelis Academy was at risk, your already slipping grade only made things worse. Desperate to hold onto everything you've worked hard for, you're assigned to a tutor—Sim Jaeyun. However, in exchange for saving your scholarship, you have to be his fake girlfriend, to please his parents. You agreed and the longer you pretend, the harder it becomes to ignore what is real and what is fake.
series masterlist | part two
pairing: sim jaeyun x fem! reader.
content: classmates to lovers, fake dating, rich kids academy au, family issues, angst with comfort, explicit mature content, unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, cunninglingus, misconceptions, financial differences, rich people problems, happy ending. lmk if i miss anything
word count: 22.4k.
mini playlist: unravel me - sabrina claudio, snap out of it - arctic monkeys, pretty boy - the neighbourhood, fuck it i love you - lana da rey.
from author: first jake fic, kinda nervous... i have to split this into 2 parts because of stupid blr's character limit wtf.
This can't be happening.
Those four words kept repeating itself, over and over again as you stared at the letter held in your hands. You had came back from a long day of lectures scheduled back-to-back, thrilled at the prospect of returning to your dorm to wind down and enjoy the short weekend, only to find a letter with the Board's seal stamped on it.
Your roommate who's also your childhood friend—Ningning, popped her head out of the kitchen doorway, an eyebrow raised with curiosity written across her face.
"What's wrong? You looked like you've seen a ghost," she asked, stepping away from the stove, pausing her task of preparing dinner for the two of you as she approached you, shoulders comfortably bumping against one another.
You wordlessly handed the letter to her, not wanting to look at it a second longer. Ningning accepted it and if it was any other situation, you would've laughed at how her eyes widened as she read what was written on the letter.
"Dear (Full Name),
I hope this letter finds you well. It is with deep regret that we inform you of a recent decision made by the Decelis Academy Board. Due to certain sudden and unforeseen circumstances, the Scholarship Advancement Program will be discontinued, effective at the end of this academic term.
While we understand that the program had supported exceptional and bright students like yourself, the Board was determined that its continuation no longer aligns with the academy's evolving standards and social structure. Additionally, your scholarship benefits, including tuition coverage and accommodation privileges, will be revoked at the end of the term.
You are, of course, welcome to continue your studies at Decelis under a full-paying student status should you wish to do so. We seek your understanding and wish you success in your future endeavors.
Warm Regards,
Decelis Academy Board.
Ningning's hands trembled visibly as she finished reading, lips parted in disbelief and the color draining from her face at every word. "They can't do this. This is stupid and—"
You sighed, plopping down onto the couch as you leaned back, running a hand through your hair. "Ningning, I appreciate your words but face it. It's only a matter of time before something like this happens. I'm just unlucky enough to be caught in it."
Your friend's face fell at your response. She hurried over, sitting on your left side and clutched your hands with her own.
"Don't say that! Look, we can figure something out. Maybe we can talk to the board. Or I can ask my father. I'm sure he's willing to pay for your fees!"
Hearing that, your head snapped up at breakneck speed. "No, we've talked about this. I'm not letting your dad pay for my fees."
"But—"
"No means no. The last thing I want is to feel bad and spend the rest of my life paying him back. Do you know how expensive it is?" You cut her off.
Your friend puffed her cheeks. "It's not like those are big numbers to him. You know how rich he is."
Yeah, you do know how rich Ningning's family are.
Her father is a extremely wealthy businessman in the hotel and tourism industry. Her mother, on the other hand, is an infamous model who is constantly sought out by multiple brands and thanks to her, the brands often find themselves having a major increase of sales. Ningning, on the other hand, is expected to follow her father's footsteps once she had graduated.
But, she wanted something different.
Which was why she's here now—in Decelis Academy and a student majoring in Biochemistry.
If there's one thing you secretly envied her about, it's the fact that she has supporting and loving parents. Parents who wouldn't forced or give her unnecessary pressure to live up to their expectations. Parents who are willing to let their child shaped their own future and without locking them in a cage, slicing their wings off.
You sighed again but this time, your voice and eyes softened.
"It's fine, really. I appreciate your help but this is something I have to do myself. I'll find a way. I'm not leaving you here with all these useless and ugly guys roaming around the campus."
You joked, the weight on your shoulders lightening when she let out a breathless, airy laugh at your light-hearted joke.
"Alright girl, I believe you. Now let's put that aside and let's have dinner. But you're helping me with the cooking."
"When do I not?"
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The weekend passed in a blink of an eye and it felt like a slap to your face when you arrived at campus, your bag slung over your left shoulder, pretending like your life wasn't already flipped upside down.
You clutched onto the strap of your bag as the cheerful laughter echoed in your ears, oblivious to the dilemma you're facing. Despite what you had told Ningning, you were lost. You didn't know what to do now. Sure, you are working part-time but the measly pay was barely enough for you to scrape by.
You arrived at your first lecture for the day and took your seat in the middle, pulling out your laptop, notebook and stationery. Being a Computer Science major means you have to deal with one of your worst nightmares—numbers.
You didn't know why you picked this major.
Maybe it's because you were told that it will secure your future, giving you a job with a mouthwatering, too good to be true salary. Maybe it's because of the pressure you were getting. The pressure of constantly compared with your cousins, who are doing way better than you.
Sure, you're a student at the prestigious Decelis Academy but not for long. Not when you have four months left before the term ends and you will be officially kicked out. Just the thought of it made you sighed as you slumped forward, knocking your head against the table with your eyes closed.
"Uh, you alright?"
You raised your head and your body stiffened when you saw a familiar face looking right at you. A face that belonged to a popular clique known in Decelis Academy—Sim Jaeyun, or Jake. You have heard of him before, his name slipping from people's lips here and there. You knew he's from a wealthy family but comparing him with your friend, Jake was more well-off as compared to your friend.
As far as you were aware, his father is the owner of a multi-chain hospital that had became successful where he had even opened it in different countries, making his business surpassed what many thought it was impossible. His mother is an event manager who loved her job with her entire heart. It was said that she had the golden touch—always creating successful events that never failed to gather the public's interests.
Jake was dressed in luxurious clothes—every article of clothing costing way more than what your yearly salary from your part-time job could pay you. His bag slung carelessly over his right shoulder with his laptop sandwiched on his left side. And of course, his signature accessory—a pair of black-framed glasses rested perfectly on the bridge of his nose was enough to gather muffled whispers and giggles in the lecture room.
You blinked, straightening yourself when you realized you had been openly checking him out for the past five minutes or so and how he was waiting for your response.
"Oh, fine. Just not really looking forward to this module first thing in the morning," you replied, scratching the back of your neck.
The next thing you knew, Jake sat on your right as he placed his laptop down on the long table. You stared at him in disbelief and he noticed it, arching an eyebrow. If you were to look closer, you would be able to see something akin to amusement in his eyes.
"What?"
You shook your head. "N-Nothing, it's just that.. I didn't expect you to sit here when there are plenty of seats around," you replied.
Jake did a quick scan of his surroundings, humming and nodding his head. "Yea, but I think sitting here has the best view."
"H-Huh?" Your cheeks turned red and he chuckled, amused with your reaction.
"I meant the best view of the screen. Don't want you to think I'm hitting on you or something," he clarified and you weren't sure why, but his words made your heart sank.
Nonetheless, you flashed him in what you hoped was an reassuring smile. "Right."
At that moment, the lecturer had came in and everyone settled down, ready to pay attention to the module. You went silent, eyes focused ahead as he begin speaking, the slides coming to life while trying your best to ignore the boy seated beside you.
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The lecture ended with you not understanding anything that was taught for the past two hours. Although, this was a regular occurrence for you and honestly, you were quite amazed with how you haven't failed this module yet. You finished packing your things and was about to leave through the backdoor when the lecturer called out to you, stopping you in your tracks.
"(Name), could you come over for a second? And Jake, you too," he called out from where he stood, behind the desk situated in the middle front of the room.
The two of you were confused with the sudden call-outs but obliged, stopping before the table as you stood side by side. The lecturer turned to you first, letting out a long, exhausted sigh and you already knew where this was heading.
"(Name), I know you're a bright and talented student but I've been noticing that your grades are dropping. If this continue, you'll be at the risk of being failing and retaking the module, which I'm sure you don't want that to happen," he started and you nodded, averting your eyes to a random spot of the table, embarrassed to even utter a single word.
He then turned to Jake, who had been silent the entire time. "Jake, I need you to tutor (Name) for the next four months, before your finals start."
Your eyes widened, mouth dropping. "But, sir, I—"
Jake, on the other hand, was quick to agree, nodding along. "Alright, sir. I'll do my best to guide her."
You turned to him, shooting him an incredulous look before facing your lecturer again. "Wait, there's no need for this. I'm perfectly fi—"
"—fine on your own? Well, your grades say otherwise and if I were you, I'll take this chance to buck up and focus on it. Chances like this don't come that often, (Name)," he cut you off and you tightened your grip on the strap of your bag.
"..Yes, sir. I understand," you mumbled.
"Good. Then the both of you are dismissed."
You were the first to leave, your pace fast and quick but you didn't took more than five steps before Jake called out your name. You stopped for the second time, rolling your eyes before you fully turned to face him.
"What?" You snapped, the tone used making you sound meaner than you anticipated. You felt bad when you saw the way Jake flinched at your tone but he straightened himself, determination glowing in his eyes.
"Give me your number," he stated.
"For?"
He blinked. "For our tutoring sessions, what else? Or else how am I supposed to contact you?"
You sighed, stretching out your hand and Jake easily placed his phone on your palm, allowing you to type in your number before you handed it back to him.
"Just saying, I'm not free every Wednesdays and Fridays. Other than that, I'm free."
"Alright, I'll text you for our first session. See you," He concluded, flashing you a polite smile before turning to walk away, leaving you standing by the hallway.
You rolled your eyes, adjusting your bag and headed in the opposite direction, going to the cafeteria—where Ningning was already waiting for you. She waved her hand, easily catching your attention as you entered and made a beeline towards her.
"What happened? You looked stressed," she asked, concern as she slid your tray of food over, having bought your lunch on your behalf.
"My lecturer asked Jake to be my tutor," you replied, exasperation seeping into your voice.
Ningning gasped, checking left and right before leaning forward, voice lowering to a whisper. "Jake? As in that Jake? The one who's friends with Heeseung, Sunghoon and Jay? That Jake?"
You nodded, shoving a large mouthful of food into your mouth, only speaking after you had properly swallowed. "Yup, him. I'm guessing it's because he's the best student in the class."
Your friend whistled, impressed. "Best is an understatement. His name is always at the top of the board whenever results are out. You know those glasses he wear? It makes him look like a nerd," she paused for dramatic effect and you sent her a pointed look—to which she ignored.
"A very hot and fine nerd, if I do say so my—ow!" She continued with a proud look on her face, only for her to yelp in pain when you kicked her in the shins.
"Not helping!" You hissed under your breath.
Ningning waved off your words with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "You need to loosen up once in a while. The more stress you are, the higher the chance of you getting wrinkles at your early age."
"Sounds like a win to me."
"…There is truly something wrong with you."
"Love you too."
The rest of the day passed with you attending your lectures which lasted until three in the afternoon. When the final lecture was over, you stretched your arms above your head, groaning at the way your joints cracked with how stiff they were.
You packed your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder and was about to head back to your dorm when your phone went off, ringing and vibrating in your pants' pocket. You pulled out the device, accepted the call without checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Are you still on campus?" An unfamiliar male voice was heard on the other line.
"Who is this and how did you get my number?" You asked, hostility seeping into your voice.
You heard a sigh. "It's me, Jake. You know, your tutor?"
Your cheeks flushed red, embarrassed. "..Oh, sorry. But yea, I'm still here, why?"
"Can you come over to the library, if you're free? We can start today. I won't be free for the rest of the week."
"Yeah? Busy with what? Fooling around with girls and flaunting your wealth?"
Silence.
The words had slipped before you could stopped yourself. You stopped in the middle of the empty hallways, fingers unconsciously tightening around your phone at the prolonged silence. A wave of remorse hit you when Jake didn't say anything. At first, you thought he had hung up but when you check the screen, the call was still ongoing. That only made you felt even worse. You parted your lips, about to apologize when you heard shuffling on the other line.
"Right, I don't know where you get that idea from but doesn't matter. Just come to the library in the south building. I'm already here," Jake replied and hung up without waiting for your response.
You pulled your phone away, staring at the bank screen that shows your reflection with an incredulous and offended look on your face. You were taken aback at the audacity he had—calling and demanding you to find him, like you're some sort of pet.
Ever since you were granted a scholarship, you weren't blind to the constant whispers and demeaning giggling from students around you.
It's not your fault that you're born in a middle-class family, how you had to work hard to get to where you are today and how you managed to land a scholarship to the prestigious Decelis Academy, the very same academy that's known for having an acceptance rate less than five percent.
"Whatever, he's the same as everyone else here," you murmured under your breath, like you're convincing yourself than anyone else. You turned, heading in the opposite direction and made your way to the library, mentally preparing yourself for your first tutoring session with Jake.
Hopefully you can make it out alive without losing your mind or committing a crime…
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"What took you so long? I've been waiting for the past ten minutes," Jake asked, frowning with evident disapproval written all over his face when you entered his vision.
You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your annoyance and placed your bag down on the table while sitting opposite of him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I delaying one of your many dates with a girl?"
He owlishly blinked his eyes, confused. "Seriously, what's with you? You're acting like I've done something wrong to offend you."
Alright, he has a point or points actually. He's been nothing but polite and nice to you while you kept bristling, hissing and snarling at him, like a cat baring its teeth at its owner. If there's one thing about you, it's the fact you're a prideful person and you'd rather do anything than apologize or admit you're in the wrong.
That's one of your red flags but hey, who can blame you? You're human, after all and humans aren't perfect. You're just a student trying to live a low, peaceful life while ignoring the major issue that comes in the form of you on the verge of losing your scholarship. Even though you're very much in the wrong, you didn't apologize. Instead, you leaned back into your seat and crossed your arms, meeting his eyes with an unimpressed look.
"My problem with you people is how you think money is everything," you started, venom evident in your voice, "how you only care about yourself. You're nothing but a walking wallet."
You're well-aware this isn't the kind of place nor time for you to be picking a fight, especially with someone who's supposed to be your tutor in a library, out of all places. But you couldn't help it, not when your first instinct was to defend yourself, whether you're right or wrong. Jake remained silent with an unreadable expression on his face.
You considered yourself an expert in reading people's emotions through their body languages or expressions but when it comes to Jake? You got nothing. And you didn't like that at all. But that doesn't mean your opinion of him and nearly ninety-percent of the cohort will change.
Your tutor let out an exasperated sigh, shoulders sagging slightly from the action. "If you're done yapping away, let's get started."
"…What?"
"You'll work on some practice questions and from there, I'll get a better understanding of how to help you," he continued, ignoring your stunned and incredulous expression.
You scoffed. "Are you fucking with me or something?"
Jake paused. "What are you talking about? If I didn't know better, you're the one that's fucking with me, (Name)."
Shivers ran down your spine at the particular way your name rolled off his tongue. It's different from everyone else and you weren't sure what to feel about it. You pointedly ignored how your palms were growing sweaty and how your clothes was sticking onto your body from the thin layer of sweat. .
"I don't need your help," you snarled and if looks could kill, he would've died on the spot.
Instead of being annoyed or angered at your rudeness and brattiness, Jake was calm and composed, letting you make a fool of yourself. You were aware of how some students were glancing your way from the tables around you, no doubt eavesdropping on your conversation.
Your ears and face burned with embarrassment and not wanting to gather more unwanted attention, you have no choice but to do what he told. He slides a sheet of paper over towards you. One look at it made your mind blanked out. You couldn't understand most—all of it, not that you're planning to admit it out loud. Swallowing down your cry of help, you pulled out your stationery and began working on it.
Well, try to work on it would be a more specific description.
Thirty to forty-five minutes passed with you finishing the last question. Jake was working on his assignment, typing away on his laptop when he saw you were done. He finished typing before pushing it aside, giving you his fullest attention. He pushed his glasses further up his nose when it's sliding down. The small, subtle and mindless action somehow made your stomach tightened but you shoved it out immediately.
The sooner you were done with this, the faster you can leave.
You slid the paper back to Jake, chewing on your bottom lip while fiddling with your pen as you observed his reaction—how he furrowed his eyebrows with faint wrinkles seen on his forehead, how he pursed his lips in a thin line, like he's suppressing the words itching to leave his throat and how he absentmindedly spun his pen with his right index and middle fingers.
He huffed, amused. "Damn, I know you're bad at this but I didn't think it's this bad."
Your eyebrow twitched. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Simple," he leaned back into his seat, placing the paper down on the table, "it means you're gonna flunk this module. Whether you like it or not."
Surely it's not a crime for me to kill someone out of hatred, right?
He even had the audacity to chuckle, like your suffering is hilarious, even though it's far from that. There's nothing funny about this and you loathed being viewed as a laughing stock, especially when it's from people like him. You scowled, giving him the nastiest glare you can mustered while boring holes into his head.
"Isn't it your job to tutor and help me pass this module?" You asked through gritted teeth. God, you knew he's annoying but you didn't expect him to be this infuriating, to the point where he's getting under your skin.
"Woah. First of all, I'm not getting paid for this and I accepted this for free. Nothing more and nothing less. Secondly, this is a group work, where you and I need to work together so you can learn and if possible, pass the module."
"You—"
"Thirdly, if you keep acting like someone shoved a stick up your ass every time we see one another, you're just making a fool of yourself," he finished, cutting you off.
You were rendered speechless, unable to utter a single word to defend yourself as you uselessly gawked at him, like he had spoken in a different language. Jake faintly smirked, swiftly packing his things and stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Since you're out of words, let's stop here for today. I'll see you next week and hopefully you've learned to cool that temper of yours," he said, not waiting for your response before turning to walk away, leaving you sitting there, silently fuming in rage.
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"Welcome home, Young Master. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Mm."
Jake hummed, not bothering with a proper, verbal response. He walked past the head butler, making a beeline to the flight of curved stairs to his bedroom. However, he wasn't fast enough. He barely made it to the stairs when someone called out his name, forcing him to stop in his tracks. It took all of him to not make a face or sighed out loud. He mentally counted to three before turning around on the spot.
"Yes, Father?" He asked, faint sarcasm seeping into his voice.
"Your mother and I have something important to discuss with you over dinner. Come to the dining room when you've washed up," his father informed him, speaking to him like he's one of his staff, one of his employees rather than his biological son. His son that shares and carries the heavy surname of Sim.
In the medical world, everyone knows who the Sims are. How could they not, when their—his father's name was plastered on every possible surface. When his father was the one who built a hospital from scratch, with nothing but hopes and dreams. When the entire world was against him, only for him to end up successful, earning more than everyone else, to the point where he's listed in the Top Ten Richest Man list.
It goes without saying that the expectations on his one and only son was incredibly high and stressful. The moment Jake gained the ability to read and write, his parents wasted no time in sending him to tuition, forcing him to learn everything and anything at once. It's fortunate for them but unfortunate for him, that he was able to pick up things fast, quickly adapting to whatever was thrown his way.
His father constantly bragged about him, showing him off like a trophy to the world, proclaiming that he will be the one leading the family business in the future. Jake was forced to attend every formal event, walking around, forcing fake smiles that doesn't meet his eyes to people who he could care less about while listening to them bragging about things he doesn't want to know.
Jake didn't acknowledge his father, turning to resume ascending up the flight of stairs. He headed to his room—the closest door on his right, opening and closing it behind him. It's only when he's finally alone was he able to heave a sigh of relief. He placed his bag near his desk, heading to take a quick but refreshing shower.
When he was done, he threw on whatever comfortable clothes he have—clothes that costed more than what a regular student can afford before stepping out. He flinched, startled to see the head butler already waiting for him outside and rested a hand on his chest to calm his rapidly pounding heart.
"Oh Jesus, you scared me," he breathed out but the other paid his words and reaction no mind.
The older man bowed at waist level, a sharp ninety-degrees with one arm placed before him. "Please follow me, Young Master."
Jake obliged, not that he has a choice in the first place, walking a few steps behind the head butler, who promptly led him to the dining room. He knocked twice, informing his parents about his arrival and the doors opened from the inside. The last time he stepped foot into this very room was when he was eighteen—four years ago.
Four years ago when he made the decision to forgo following his father's footsteps and to take over the family's business. Four years ago when he boldly told them no, I refuse to continue being a pawn in your chess game. I want to create and write my own path. Needless to say, his parents didn't take it well and the entire Sims estate was filled with the loud, aggressive and furious yelling from all three family members.
And since that night, Jake refused to talk to his parents.
Until today, that is.
The son took his rightful seat, pointedly staring down at a random spot of the long, rectangle-shaped table that's covered with a wide variety of dishes. No one said a thing or began eating. The air was thick and filled with tension, the kind of of tension that symbolized the calm before the storm, before something big happens.
And Jake's instincts was never wrong.
"Jake, you will be flying to Australia at the end of the semester," his father announced, dropping the bombshell on him without warning, like it's something as minor as the weather itself when it's far from that. Not when it will be playing a huge, crucial role in his current life and future.
Silence.
"What."
Jake asked—said, disbelief seeping into his voice. "What the hell are you talking about, Father? What do you mean I'm flying back to Australia? I still have my final year left."
The older man sternly narrowed his eyes—a clear sign of his displeasure at his son's lack of respect. "Sim Jaeyun, the moment you refused to handle the family's business is the moment you have determined that you have no say in what happens. Your… major you're currently studying in. It brings you no future. "
He paused briefly before resuming.
"Not to mention, you're still single. Do you know how that looks to the public when you're a Sim?"
Jake's shoulders trembled, seething with rage. "With all due respect Father, my relationship status is none of your concern. In fact, I don't see the correlation of how it will affect the future and the business."
At this, his mother chimed in from her seat situated across of Jake's.
"Darling, we're doing this for your own good. You wouldn't have much time left to find someone to be your partner. If you want, I can set you up on some blind dates. I have a few friends whose daughters are just like you."
He sighed. "Mother, please. We've been through this already."
"Jaeyun-ah, why can't you understand that as your parents, we just want the best for you."
Baam!
Slamming his hands down on the table with enough force to shake the utensils and cutlery, Jake shoved his chair back. His action drew a loud, ear-piercing scratching sound as the four legs of the chair dragged against the smooth, polished and marbled floor. His eyes hardened, no other emotions found other than pure, raw and unfiltered anger, vividly burning in his diluted pupils.
Jake rarely gets angry for he's a patient person. But when he's around his parents, it's like they knew which and where to poke at, to make him lose his mind and blow a fuse too.
"Going with what you're saying, then why can't you understand that as your son, I don't want anything to do with the business nor am I interested in finding a partner."
His father too, rose from his seat and pointed at him, a thunderous and stormy expression settling on his face. "You will not speak to us in that tone. We are your parents and—"
He couldn't hold back the sarcastic snort he lets out, cutting his father off. "Oh, so now you're acknowledging yourselves as my parents? How ironic, considering how you've never acted like one to begin with."
"Sim Jaeyun!"
"Whatever, I'm done with this conversation. It's clear both of you aren't willing to listen," he retorted, throwing sharp glares to both his mother and father's faces before leaving the dining room in nothing but pure fury, ignoring the loud yelling of his father—demanding him to return.
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"Dude, what's wrong with you? You looked constipated. Didn't shit before leaving?"
Jake shot one of his friends—Lee Heeseung—the captain and the ace of the basketball team, a nasty and judgemental look. It's times like these when Heeseung doesn't act like the oldest in his friendgroup.
They were seated by one of the many tables and long wooden benches, waiting for the other two idiots to arrive. It's currently lunchtime and the campus was filled with students walking back and forth. Some were finding places to sit and eat while some were just standing around and chatting among themselves.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He bite back without hesitation.
Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Hyung, just shut up, please."
"What's going on here?"
They turned upon hearing a familiar, confused voice heading their way. The source belonged to none other than Park Jongseong—a guitarist who's apart of the music club in the day and a songwriter in the night, when the city is asleep was when he truly thrived, writing songs that comes from the bottom of his heart and soul, only for him to never let them see the light. He sat opposite of Heeseung after doing their customary handshake with another student quickly joining them, sitting opposite of Jake.
"How did your first tutoring session went?" Park Sunghoon—a figure skater who will be representing Seoul during the Olympics, asked, placing his takeaway box on the table.
His question gained his other two friends' attention, causing them to stop their conversation. "What? Since when you became a tutor?"
Jake rolled his eyes, sending the younger boy a pointed look but he simply flashed him an innocent smile. "Since yesterday. Apparently she's been failing and is on the verge of retaking it if she doesn't do well in the finals. Wait, how do you even know about this?"
He directed his question to Sunghoon with an raised eyebrow. The figure skater blinked, speaking once he swallowed his mouthful of food.
"Don't worry about it, I have my ways."
The other three shared a look among themselves and Jay spoke up. "That doesn't make it sound any better."
Sunghoon shrugged his shoulders, unbothered. "Like I said, don't worry about it. I just heard it from students and you know how everyone is once they find something new to gossip about."
Oh. Well, Jake couldn't really blamed them since he too, will act the same way. He lets out a defeated sigh as he slumped into his chair. "That was our first time meeting one another and she's acting like I've killed her family in front of her."
Jay whistled, resting his elbows on the table. "What did you do to piss her off?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Heeseung echoed.
Jake nodded. "Yup, nothing. All I did was to agree to the professor's request of tutoring her and she started spiraling, acting like a chihuahua, all barking and snarling at me."
Sunghoon hummed, deep in thought. "Did she tell you why?"
"She did. Mentioned something about having a problem with people like us, where we think money is everything and how we're a walking wallet," he rephrased your words, replaying the scene in his mind.
His three friends shared another look among themselves, as if they were able to communicate with one another via telepathy. Jake however, wasn't amused with their antics.
"Spit it out already," he demanded, delivering a rough, sharp kick to Jay's shins, because why not?
"Sounds like she has something against you," Heeseung replied on behalf of the other two Parks, who nodded in unison.
"Oh really? I didn't know that, thanks for pointing it out," Jake deadpanned.
"God forbid a guy from helping his friend."
"You're not even being helpful," he pointed out.
"I tried to be helpful. There's a difference."
"That doesn't even make any sense."
Jay pointedly cleared his throat, quickly stepping in before they end up arguing. "Alright, that's enough from you two. I'm guessing this isn't just about her, right?"
Jake blinked, trying to play dumb. "What do you mean?"
Sunghoon snorted, having finished his food. "Don't lie, Jaeyun. It's all over your face, so just spill it. Tell us what's been bothering you."
Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. "My parents are at it again."
"You mean pushing you to find a girlfriend?" Heeseung inquired.
He nodded glumly. "Yeah, what else? They said how it's time for me to find someone and guess what? That's not all."
"Don't tell me you got someone pregnant," Sunghoon joked, only to flinch when Jake kicked him under the table.
"No, you dumbass. They're planning to send me to Australia."
Silence.
"What!?"
"What the-! Why?"
"That's fucking insane, what about your education?"
Jake shrugged his shoulders, speaking once his friends calmed down. "I don't know, I guess I won't be graduating since I'm flying once the current term ends. I know they're doing this because I refuse to "
Jay's eyes widened in realization. "Once it ends? It ends in six months."
Heeseung stilled, reaching the same conclusion as the guitarist. "Wait, that means—"
"Yup, I'm leaving in six months. If everything goes their way, that is."
Everyone went silent for a while, letting the newly-gathered pieces of information sink into their minds. Just when they thought all hope was gone, Sunghoon spoke up, face lighting up with that look in his eyes. The kind of look that screams he has an idea and Jake is one-hundred percent sure he's not going to like it.
"How about you find a fake girlfriend?"
"…"
"…"
"Do you ever think twice before speaking or is that brain of yours filled with nothing but just pure protein and muscles?"
"Fuck you."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
The rest of the week passed in a blink of an eye with you floating through your classes and drowning in a never-ending pile of assignments—all of it fighting among themselves, demanding to be the first in line to have your attention. You stepped out of your lecture room, heaving a sigh of relief once you're free and ready to head back to your dorm when you saw a familiar face—Sim Jaeyun, waiting outside, his presence gaining the nearby students' attention.
You rolled your eyes at how some giggled, twirling their hair around their fingers while batting their eyelashes at him, no doubt trying to flirt with him. But, he paid them no mind, shuffling his feet on the spot and looking unusually… nervous.
Well, that's a first.
You blinked when you made eye contact with him. When he pushed himself off the wall, you took that as your cue to continue walking, not wanting to see his face or talked to him. You assumed he was waiting for someone else, only for it to brutally crushed when he called out your name. You quickened your pace, intending to lose him in the crowd but that only made him started chasing after you, resulting in a wild goose chase.
It was only when you made a sharp turn around a corner was when Jake managed to catch up to you. He shot out his hand to grab your wrist, halting you in your tracks. You turned, already scowling at him with your eyes narrowed.
"What do you want? Gonna make fun of me again?" You snapped, venom and pure hostility evident in your tone.
Jake furrowed his eyebrows. "No, I'm not here to make fun of you. I need your help."
You blinked once. And twice before barking out a loud laugh. "Oh? You need my help? Since when does the Sim Jaeyun needs help from a girl like me?"
He sighed at your aggression towards him. "Just hear me out? If you don't want to, then we can forget this conversation happened. Just give me five minutes, please."
You could detect something akin to desperation in his voice, catching you off-guard. After all, someone like Jake—who has everything and anything in the world handed to him on a silver plate, was crumbling around the edges. And you hated how he looked at you with wide, pleading eyes, making him resemblance a crestfallen puppy. If you looked closer, you would be able to see the dog ears on top of his head.
"…Fine, but it better be five minutes. Any longer than that and I'm leaving," you warned him.
His face lit up, looking at you like you've saved his entire bloodline or you're an angel sent from Heavens at your words. He wasted no time in dragging you along, ignoring the curious stares you were getting as everyone watched from where they stood. Honestly, you could understand them. After all, you weren't rich like them and yet, here you are—walking with Jake's hand wrapped around your wrist.
You pointedly ignored how warm his fingers felt as it's clasped around your wrist, easily touching and how your heart skipped a beat when your eyes lingered on the back of his head. If it wasn't for his annoying attitude, you wouldn't mind having a crush on him.
At least, that's what you told yourself—using his attitude as an excuse for you to dislike him.
Jake ended up bringing you out in the open, stopping by a vacant table was when he finally released his grip on your wrist, almost like he had forgotten he was the one who dragged you out here. You crossed your arms, tilted your head to the side and tapped your right shoe on the ground.
"Go on. I'm waiting," you said, opening the floor to him.
He bit down on his bottom lip, fiddling with the hem of his black leather jacket, the jacket that looks absolutely sinful on his shoulders and back. Your eyes flicked down to the rings he worn, decorating his hands in a mesmerizing shade of silver.
You were quick to roundhouse the… indecent thoughts out of your mind before you could let it sink in. After what felt like centuries, Jake plucked up his courage, inhaling and exhaling before locking eyes with you, determination written all over his face.
"I need you to date me."
Silence.
You made a sound that's similar to a dying animal, unable to believe what you were hearing. "W-What? You're joking, right? If this is a silly little prank you and your friends thought of, then it's not funny."
Instead of doing anything—laughing and mocking you or doing anything that someone like him would do, Jake did nothing. He merely stared at you, with a rare solemn look on his face, like he too doesn't liked how it had come to this. Your expression faltered once you realized he's not fooling around.
"…Oh, you're not kidding," you said, more to yourself rather than him.
Realization flickered across his face. "Wait, before you get any wrong ideas, let me rephrase my sentence: I need you to fake date me."
"Fake date?" You echoed.
He nodded. "Yeah, to get my parents off my back so I can live without them breathing down my neck."
You hummed and crossed your arms. "Right, so what's in it for me? Surely you can't be the only one who benefits from this."
"I'll continue to tutor you for the module," he answered and his lack of hesitation made you narrowed your eyes.
"Did you plan this? Because you sound awfully prepared for someone who's desperate to stoop this low," you asked.
Jake blinked, genuine confusion flickered in his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind, but why me? Why not pick a random girl who's part of your fanclub?"
He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed with his eyes averted to the side. "You're the first person I thought of and you're different from the rest. You don't act like them, all shy, self-centered and only want me for my money or popularity."
You slowly nodded your head. "Right… I honestly can't tell if you're still joking or not though. It's hard to believe this."
The boy shot you an exasperated look. "Alright, then what do you want in return? Apart from me tutoring you."
If it was anyone else, they would've jumped at the rare, golden opportunity of Jake offering something to you. But you weren't anyone else. You were… well, you. You preferred to get things done your way and achieve it through the efforts of your blood, sweat and tears. You didn't like asking for help either, being the type of person to bottle it down. Ningning have told your countless times that this coping mechanism isn't healthy but it takes a while to get rid of bad habits.
"There's nothing I want from you, don't worry. Just tutor me and I'm good with that," you answered, waving off the invisible golden ticket.
If you looked closer, you would be able to see the cogs turning above his head as he connects the dots. "You.. don't want anything? Are you sure? You do know this is a once in a lifetime offer, right?"
"Yes, I'm aware and one-hundred percent sure," you answered firmly.
"Alright, if you say so. But my offer still stands until we're done with this whole…thing," he gestured to the space around you.
"Woah slow down, you're acting like I've said yes to it," you stopped him and this time, he's the one who faltered at your words. Seeing his bemused expression—how his lips parted, how there's faint wrinkles on his forehead and how he looked conflicted.
You snorted, amused. "I'm kidding, I'll do this fake relationship or whatever. Are there any rules or things I should take note of?"
Jake raised his right hand with one finger up. "Yeah, there is. Firstly, we have to act like a couple on campus and outside of campus."
"Wait—"
"Secondly, PDA will be involved, like hand-holding and kisses will be limited to the cheeks only. We might need to use pet names to make it more convincing too."
"Now hold on—"
"Thirdly, we need to keep this up for six months."
Your eyes widened, nearly popping out of its sockets. "Six months!? I thought it will be a few weeks!"
"It doesn't make sense for a relationship to last that short. It's more believable if it's six months," he deadpanned, stating it like it's a fact and common sense.
"I don't appreciate you treating me like I'm an idiot."
"Oh really? Your results say otherwise," he retorted without missing a beat, reminding you again why you disliked him and find him annoying.
You threw him a sharp glare and made the wiser choice of walking away, not wanting to breathe in the same air as him for a second longer.
"I'll call you soon!" Jake shouted to you and you responded by flipping him off, practically stomping away.
The moment you returned to your dorm with a glum, gloomy expression on your face, Ningning looked up where she sat by the dining table, hair messy from her constantly running her hand through or tugging at with her laptop facing her. She stopped what she was doing, tossing it tot he side and rushed up to you, placing her hands on your shoulders.
"What's wrong? You looked like you got ran over," she asked, directing you to sit on the couch. You practically melted into it, going boneless while she sat beside you, her hands now above yours.
The scene looked straight out of a drama, with the female lead being comforted by her friend after finding out she was cheated on. If it wasn't for your current situation, you would've find your dilemma funny but you didn't have the heart to laugh at anything. You ran a hand through your hair, messing it up in the process and stared at the wall with a tired look on your face.
"…I'm dating Jake now," you said, getting straight to the point.
She gasped, jaw dropping and eyes widening, utterly dumbfounded, like you've told her you're pregnant instead. "You're what!? Since when? Wait, hold on. I'm confused! I remembered you telling me you hate his guts! How did one tutoring session led to you dating him?"
You freed your right hand, quickly stopping her before she could get carried away. Ningning took that as her cue to seal her lips shut.
"Before you get any wrong idea, we're fake dating—"
"Fake dating?"
You glared at her for interrupting you and she made a motion of zipping her mouth. "As I was saying, we're gonna fake date. He wants me to be his fake girlfriend to get his parents off his back and in return, he'll continue to tutor me until finals are over. It's a win-win situation."
"Win-win situation? You mean a ticket straight to hell. You're gonna get your feelings played," she said and you couldn't help but flinched, knowing she's right.
"What are you talking about? There's no feelings involved in the first place. It's a mutual and beneficial agreement," you scoffed.
Your friend shot you a pointed look, not believing you but didn't prod further and changed the conversation as she moved to a lighter topic. "Did he told you the reason why he chose you?"
"Yeah, said something about how I'm different than the other girls and things like that."
Ningning raised an eyebrow and playfully nudged you with her elbow. "Look at you go, having that main character energy," she paused when something hits her and she sat up, "wait, does that mean he's gonna be paying for everything?"
You groaned. "Ningning—"
"You can ask him to pay for your fees! That way you wouldn't be kicked out!" She exclaimed, shooting up from the couch, obviously thrilled with the idea.
You, on the other hand, have the opposite reaction, rubbing the space between your eyes. "I didn't tell him."
She paused, owlishly blinking her eyes. "What? Why not?"
You dropped your hand and threw her the most unimpressed stare you can mustered. "Because I know guys like him are gonna laugh at me. They act like they're better than me, just because they're rich! Besides, why should I tell him about my problem?"
At this, Ningning's features softened. You were able to see something akin to pity swirling in her eyes as she sat back down, her knees gently nudging against yours. You instinctively looked to the side, not wanting her pity. If there's another thing about you, it's the fact you disliked being seen as weak or vulnerable, especially when it's from people who had it better than you.
They've never understood what you had to go through nor have they been in your shoes before. And to make matters worse, the words they used to comfort you felt empty, like they said it just for saying it, making them and their words sound performative.
But Ningning is different.
She was there for you since the start, stood by your side through thick and thin. She never made fun of you despite your background and upbringing differences. And for that, you are eternally grateful to her. But that doesn't mean people like her exist everywhere. She sighed when you went silent while making yourself smaller on the couch.
Leaning over, she draped her arm around your shoulders to pull you close until your head's resting on her chest, able to hear her steady and consistent heartbeat—the sound of it enough to ease your troubled mine and soul.
"You know I'm always here for you, right? You're like a sister to me, (Name)," she murmured, resting her chin on your head.
You didn't verbally reply, choosing to hum in acknowledgment instead. "I know, Ningning, I know."
"Good. If you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me anytime and anywhere. It doesn't matter if you're in another country or you're on a boat. Just call me."
Your throat tightened and something warm pricked your eyes but you were quick to blink them away, not wanting her to see you like this, despite how she doesn't mind it one bit. You shuffled closer, not wanting to be separated from your friend. She didn't say anything. She never need to, simply pulling you closer so you could be more comfortable, letting you leaned on her until you were completely at peace.
"..Do you wanna eat fried chicken and talk about stupid things?" She asked softly twenty minutes later.
"Sure, if boys is included in said stupid things," you croaked out.
Ningning chuckled. "Oh, it is definitely included. Don't worry about that."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
The weekend was the calm before the storm. Two days wasn't enough for you to mentally recover and prepare yourself for what's to come. It was currently eight in the morning and your first class starts at nine, leaving you one hour to get ready and walked to campus. The dorm you stayed in wasn't far by any means but the distance still does require you to travel by foot, which takes roughly twenty to thirty minutes with various conditions taken into considerations.
You were in the middle of getting ready when your phone screen lit up from its spot on the vanity table. You accepted the call without checking the number, putting it on speaker mode and went back to packing your bag.
"Hello?"
"(Name)? I'm driving you to campus. Come out when you're done," Jake's voice echoed through the four walls of your room, making you froze on the spot, nearly dropping your notebook.
"Why? I can walk by myself," you replied, robotically sliding your notebook into your bag, only zipping it once you've checked you didn't forget anything.
"…Don't tell me you've forgotten what I told you."
Right. The fake relationship and how we need to make it look real.
"Fine, I'm coming out," you curtly replied, ending the call, not giving him even a second to formulate his response.
You were glad that Ningning had left before you, saving you from the second-hand embarrassment of her laughing at you or even worse, bombarding Jake with an endless round of questions that you'd rather avoid at all costs. You spotted a sleek, black Mercedes-AMG GT 63 parked outside, its glossy exterior reflecting your dorm building, expensive in a way that didn't need any announcing.
Of course it belongs to Jake. Of course he drives an expensive car like a Mercedes.
Even with the tinted windows, you were able to feel his heavy gaze on you, tracking you visually as you walked round the front until you got into the passenger seat, closing the door beside you. The strong smell of his cologne washed over you the moment the door was closed—clean, expensive and annoyingly familiar.
Everything inside the car screamed luxurious in the most effortless way possible. Black leather seats stitched with silver detailing, dim ambient lights glowing along the doors and a polished console that looked more high-tech than the academy's classrooms. Even the dashboard screens gleamed flawlessly beneath the natural sunlight.
It's warm, quiet and far too comfortable for you.
Jake glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, his lips tugging upward in a faint sly, knowing smile, like he knew what kind of thoughts are running through your mind.
"Seatbelt," he murmured, voice soft, gentle and too dangerous for your heart.
You didn't speak, not trusting your own voice as you pulled the seatbelt over with borderline quivering hands. You nearly heaved a sigh of relief when you managed to buckle it and readjusted your bag that's placed on your lap. Jake made a satisfied sound, like he's pleased at your obedience or something else. For the sake of your sanity and how it's still early, you chose to believe it's the latter.
He pulled away from the roadside, now driving down the street with the engine reduced to a soft, consistent purring sound. At first, none of you spoke a word—with Jake's eyes focused on the road and you looking out of the window, watching as everything moved pass you in a blur. However, the silence didn't last long, much to your disappointment.
"I was thinking—"
"What a shocker" you muttered under your breath but he brushed your words aside.
"—I can tutor you today and tomorrow after class. What time does your last class ends?" He continued, unfazed.
"Three in the afternoon."
He nodded but you didn't see it. "Perfect, I'll meet you by the main entrance once you're done."
Hearing this, you turned your head to him. "We're not gonna study in the library?"
He shifted, resting one hand on top of the steering wheel while the other rested on his lap. You dryly swallowed until you felt the stinging pain from it. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his side profile—his tense but relaxed jawline, his fingers lazily tapping against the steering wheel in rhythm to whatever music playing in his mind.
You hated how calm and effortlessly attractive he looked. It's no wonder how he's able to capture the girls' hearts and attentions without lifting a finger. The sunlight kissed his skin every few seconds, illuminating his features—the curve and plumpness of his lips and the strands of his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. Heck, even the way he drove was irritatingly smooth, one hand on the steering wheel like he had done this a thousand times before.
Your stare lingered longer than it should have until you weren't being subtle at all and until your mind blanked out.
"Did you hear what I said or were you too busy staring at me to hear anything?" He suddenly asked, amusement lacing his voice.
Your eyes widened instantly, heat crawling up the back of your neck with you feeling unusually warm, even though the air-conditioner was blowing at you directly.
"I-I wasn't staring!" You protested, rushing to add another sentence, "Who would want to stare at you in the first place."
He lets out a low, quiet laugh that's both sinful and even more dangerous for your poor heart. "Right, if that's what you believed. As I was saying, we're gonna to to a cafe and study there. I find it more easier to study when there's drinks and food around."
You snorted before you could stopped yourself. "You sure you're not saying that because you'll be hungry?"
He pointed at you with his hand that's resting on his lap, eyes never leaving the road, even for a split second. "You're acting like you won't be hungry when classes is over."
"I won't be. I know myself best," you retorted.
Jake chuckled and didn't prod further, dropping it, much to your relief. Soon, you arrived at campus and after he parked his car in the parking lot, you got out. Everyone's eyes was immediately on you. Some were dumbfounded. Some stopped in their tracks, watching you like you're a new face when that's far from the truth.
No, what's new is the fact you've stepped out of Jake's car.
You pointedly ignored the hushed whispers and murmurs from students around you. From how they were pointing at you. You sworn you saw some even pulled their phones out to record and to add fuel to the burning flames, Jake took that as his chance to quickly stood by your side and then—
He grabbed your hand.
Not wrist. Not shoulder and not anywhere else. It was your hand.
Your head snapped to him at breakneck speed that it's a miracle you didn't snap your neck. You stared at him in disbelief, unable to hide your composure with nothing but utter shock written all over your face.
Your heart stopped beating when he intertwined your fingers together—the motion smooth and fluid, like he had practiced this before. Jake raised an questioning eyebrow when he noticed your prolonged staring and stupefied expression.
"What's wrong? Can't a guy hold his girlfriend's hand in public?" He asked, ensuring that his words was clearly heard by the students around him.
A series of gasps echoed throughout the crowd.
"Did you hear that? He called her his girlfriend!"
"What? Are you sure? Does that mean they're dating?"
"No way, since when did it happen?"
"Somehow, they look good together…"
Heat crept up the back of your neck with your ears and cheeks dusted in the lightest shade of red. You attempted to free your hand from his but he merely locked his fingers with yours. Goosebumps broke out of your body at the lightest, fleeting sensation of him running his calloused index finger along your knuckles. You were able to feel the cool, smooth metal surface of his ring touching your hand too.
Jake scooted closer until your shoulders were brushing, angling his head slightly to whisper into your right ear. At this point, you were well-aware that everyone is looking at you.
"Just smile and everything will be alright, baby," he murmured in a soft, gentle tone. The kind of tone used for actual lovers and couples.
Whatever you have with him is fake. At least, that's what you're telling yourself for now.
But god, maybe it's the tone he used. Maybe it's how he confidently handled the situation, giving the public what they truly want to see. Maybe it's something else—something you refused to acknowledge. Whatever it was, your heart fluttered, much to your horror. You didn't dare to look at him, not wanting to show how affected you were by his words.
To distract your mind, you shifted the strap of your bag as you dragged him away from the scene, making a beeline to the North building where your first class is. The voices from other students trailed after you like a whisper. Every step you took only garnered more and more attention and at this point, you're certain you and Jake's relationship have became a hot topic.
When you arrived at the lecture room, you were about to enter when Jake lightly tugged you back. You stopped and shot him a confused look, only to see he was already staring at you with an intense, unreadable look on his face. You moved away from the door, not wanting to block anyone's way before turning back to him.
"What's wro—!"
You didn't get to finish your sentence, not when he stepped closer, closing the distance with one step. Your voice died in your throat when he reached out, using both hands to cup your head. Your breath audibly stuttered, mind reeling at the feeling of his long, slender and oh so sinful fingers clasped around your chin. You couldn't moved, dumbly standing there as you let him tilt your head back slightly.
Invisible alarm bells went off in your mind when you saw him getting closer and closer. You instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, mentally bracing yourself for what's to come. Out of the list of things you expect him to do, what you didn't expect was to feel something soft and warm to touch your forehead.
Your eyes flew opened but Jake had already moved back. Your hands twitched and you fought against the sudden urge to pull him back in, ignoring how your heart ached at the sudden unnecessary distance between you. You opened and closed your mouth, resembling a gaping fish out of the sea.
"Y-You can't just—!" You spluttered, making a fool of yourself.
Jake looked downright amused than anything else. "Sorry, I can't help it when you're this cute," he apologized but his light-hearted and carefree tone said otherwise.
You scowled, throwing him a glare and entered the lecture room, not wanting to face him any longer. You were able to feel the weight of his gaze boring holes into the back of your head as you managed to find a seat for yourself. After sitting down, you glanced towards the opened door without warning and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed to see he had left, only for you to shake your head to get rid of it.
Stupid. This isn't a real relationship. Don't fall for snobby guys like him.
Despite the words you told yourself, a small, traitorous part of you however, knew you had dug a grave and how you have committed a sin. The sin of slowly but gradually, falling for Sim Jaeyun.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
Unlike before, when students paid you no mind or made fun of you behind your back, things were different now. You were surprised when a group of girls—who takes the same few modules with you, approached you out of nowhere.
Gone was their usual disdain and mocking expressions, only for it to be replaced with warmth and friendliness. You didn't say a thing, eyeing them warily while remaining on high alert for what they intend to say.
"Hey, we just wanna apologize for making fun of you in the past. We didn't mean any harm and it's just a joke," one of the girls spoke up, on behalf of her friends and they nodded in unison.
You blinked, not really knowing what to say as you slipped your bag onto your left shoulder while standing from your seat. "Oh… right, that's fine. I didn't take it to heart anyway."
The girls seemed relieved at your words, nodding once more before stepping out of the room while chatting among themselves. You lingered behind, feeling a storm of emotions residing deep in your stomach as it coiled around you like a snake. Your grip tightened on the strap of your bag, with the girl's sentence and pathetic apology echoing in your mind.
"Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore," you mumbled to yourself, leaving the room as you pulled your phone out, ready to text Jake that you were on your way to meet him.
It's easy to spot him in the parking lot—him casually leaning against the driver's door of his car. But he wasn't alone. You stopped a few feet away, hesitant as you're unsure if you're granted permission to march up to him, like how a girlfriend will do when she reunite with her boyfriend.
From where you stood, you're able to see his side profile—how he cocked his head to the side when the boy on his right—who you recognized as Lee Heeseung, said something to him that made him threw his head back to let out a loud and carefree laugh, revealing the expanse of his neck and collarbones. The sight made your throat dry up, for certain reasons you knew but didn't want to put a name on it.
"Hey, isn't that your girlfriend right there? She's been staring at you," one of Jake's friends asked while pointing at you, not caring about being subtle or whatever.
Your face flushed, shoulders tensing at the words 'your girlfriend'. Before you could say anything, Jake rolled his eyes at his friend's words, squeezing his way through them to get to you, stopping before you. Something tugged at your heart at how his hair moved when a gentle gust of wind blew past, sending it flying in all directions.
Honestly, he looks more like a puppy than a human.
"You ready to go?"
He asked, eyes trained on your face and even though there are other students around, even though how some were clearly trying to get his attention, he didn't spare them a second glance. You swallowed, shuffling your feet on the spot, feeling unusually timid and small while being on the receiving end of his firm, unwavering gaze.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked.
"Like what?"
Like I'm your actual girlfriend. Aren't we supposed to be acting?
"Nothing, never mind. What about your friends? They've been watching us," you jutted your head towards the three boys who were heading your way.
"So, mind introducing us to your girlfriend?" Heeseung asked, his voice light and teasing with his doe-like eyes darting between you and Jake's faces.
Jake sighed, moving to stand beside you with one arm casually draped around your shoulders. "Right guys, this is my girlfriend, (Name). Babe, this are my friends—Heeseung, Jay and Sunghoon, unfortunately."
You snorted at the last word while ignoring the offended looks his friends threw his way. "It's nice meeting all of you. Now if you excuse us, we have some studying to do."
You grabbed his wrist and pulled him to where his car was. His friends made loud, enthusiastic cheering sounds behind you, acting very much like young, immature boys rather than young adults that are in their early twenties, much to Jake's embarrassment.
"Good luck studying or whatever!" Heeseung called out and just to poke his buttons, Jay added another sentence that made you two froze, looking like two deer caught in headlight.
"Yeah, remember to use protection!"
What the fuck.
For a few seconds, none of you moved an inch—Jake's hands awkwardly hanging in mir-air with you looking terribly caught off-guard. He ended up being the first to regain his composure, awkwardly clearing his throat and quickly pulled out of his lot, pretending he didn't hear what his friends said, even though it was loud and crystal clear to everyone near them. It was only when you were fully out of campus was when you couldn't hold back your laughter.
"Oh my god, your friends are really embarrassing," you wheezed through your laughter, clutching the sides of your stomach with your shoulders shaking vigorously.
He sighed but the sound itself was full of fondness. "Tell me about it. I'm sorry about them though. They're nice, I swear."
"I'm sure they are, thanks to their little fan clubs they have going on," you answered.
"Oh? So who do you think looks the best?" He inquired, glancing at you here and there with the road gradually stretching wider until you're now on the highway.
You watched as the speedometer rises until he's now driving nearly at a hundred kilometers per hour before replying. "Why? So you can get an ego boost?"
"Oh, come on! I'm just really curious to know what you think!" He protested, sounding mildly offended at your words.
You snickered, leaning back in your seat with your arms loosely crossed, fingers tapping against your skin. "Hm… I think Sunghoon looks the best among the four of you."
"What!? Betrayed by my own girlfriend!" He squawked, shooting you an incredulous look and if it wasn't for the fact you're on the highway, you're certain he would've slammed his foot down on the brakes.
You didn't reply immediately, not when your heart does the funny thing again—skipping a beat at his words 'my own girlfriend'. You can only prayed the chuckle you let out sounds convincing enough and he won't questioned it.
"Right well, I consider myself as a woman with standards and taste."
"Are you implying that I'm not able to meet them?" He huffed, akin to a child sulking with his lips curling down.
You blinked, unable to believe what you were seeing. "A..Are you actually sulking?"
"Of course I am! This is damaging my self-confidence. And besides, if I hear it from anyone else, I would've been upset too," he retorted, getting off the highway as he took an exit on his left.
Something in you tightened and ached at his words, at the thought of finding someone else in the future but as always, you quickly pushed it aside.
"Right. But for what it's worth, I think you're a decent guy, Jake. Whoever gets to have you as her future boyfriend is a lucky girl."
The car came to a stop at a red light and he took that to turn towards you, surprised by your sudden honesty. "Oh, thanks. You're not so bad yourself either, as long as you're not in a foul mood. You should laugh and smile more. It makes you look cuter."
Beep!
Both of you flinched when the car behind you beeped at you. Jake was quick to change gear and continued driving, unaware of how red your face had turned, how your heart pounded against your chest rapidly and most importantly, how a series of tingles went down your body.
Another fifteen minutes passed and you arrived at your destination. At first glance, it's a simple and aesthetic-looking cafe. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, it's like you've stepped into a whole different world the moment you entered—with Jake holding the door open for you. The strong aroma of freshly-brewed coffee beans washed over your senses, along with the faint mixture of scents—handmade pasta along with dough being baked in the oven.
The interior of the cafe seemed to have a theme to it—the colors being a mixture of brown and beige. Nothing too outstanding and nothing too dull either. There were some hang and framed pictures placed on the walls in strategist positions. Customers scattered across the cafe. Some sat alone—clearly students, judging from how their tables was covered in papers and either their laptops or iPads. Some were either with their friends or partners.
You followed Jake, feeling out of place due to how expensive everything looks around you. You even clutched onto your bag with a vice-like grip, not wanting to knock any of the decorations down. He led you to an vacant table located at the back, in a rather secluded corner and you sat down, picking up the menu to look at it.
"Holy shit, these are so expensive," you gasped, jaw dropping with how ridiculously over-priced the food and drinks are.
Jake, on the other hand, didn't bat an eye to it. "Really? Just get whatever you want. It's on me."
"Oh, but—"
"No buts. This is the least I can do," he cut you off with a pointed look, leaving you no choice but with a resigned sigh.
You ended up telling him your order and he's quick to head to the register to order. From where you sat, you were able to see the starstruck look the staff had when she saw Jake, clumsily recording his order in the system, bowing with a evident blush on her cheeks once he paid. He returned to the table, raising an eyebrow at you when you shot him a teasing look.
"What?"
"Oh nothing. Just think that you're such a charmer," you pointed out.
He puffed his cheeks, looking rather proud. "Aw, thanks."
"I was being sarcastic, you dumbass."
"Oh."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
"So, how is it going?"
"What do you mean?" You asked, words slightly muffled with how you're practically shoving food down your throat, acting like a famished woman who haven't eaten for three weeks straight.
Ningning rolled her eyes, leaning back into her chair with her drumming her left fingers on the table's surface. It's a Saturday, finally and as per weekly tradition, it's only right for you and your best friend to unwind and relax by eating unhealthy but sinful food while talking about everything and anything. However, it seemed like she's showing more interest in a topic that revolves around a certain boy.
"Don't play dumb. I'm talking about your relationship with Jake. Any cute moments yet?" She placed her fork down, pressing her fingers against both sides of her faces and cutely batted her eyelashes at you, making you gagged at her antics, "Has he called you baby? Angel maybe? Has he kissed you yet?"
"…He has already done all of that," you murmured under your breath but the words were audible enough for her to hear.
She let out a scandalous gasp, acting like you've done something as nasty as having your virginity taken. "Really!? How does it feel? Did you have the butterflies? Did your heart skip a beat? Did you have sweaty hands?"
"Alright, slow down there, missy. First of all, I didn't have any of that. Secondly, what are you even saying? It sounds like English but doesn't at the same time," you stopped her before she gets carried away.
Ningning puffed her cheeks, body going limp as she raised her right leg to place it on her chair and draped her right wrist on her knee. "Boo, party pooper. What do you think though?"
"Think about what?"
She groaned. "Ugh, I'm talking about being the Sim Jaeyun's girlfriend experience! Do you know how many girls will kill to be in your spot? Not to mention, your face is all over the news too and—"
"Wait. What do you mean all over the news?" You interrupted.
Unfazed with your sudden reaction, she swiped her phone off the table, unlocked it and searched for something. When she found it, she turned it around to show you the screen. You leaned forward slightly and what you saw made your heart dropped.
SIM JAEYUN OF THE SIM FAMILY SPOTTED WITH A MYSTERIOUS GIRLFRIEND?
Beneath the bold, striking headline was an image of you and Jake, standing by his car. Your face was painfully clear in the picture, caught mid-laughing while he looked at you with such a fond, loving expression that only sold the meaning better to the world. The meaning that he's in a happy relationship with you.
Bile rose in your throat but you swallowed it down, reaching out to scroll down, curiosity getting the better of you. And you wished you didn't do that.
The article rambled on about Jake being the heir to the Sim Family's medical empire, briefly mentioning his parents' high-ranking statues in their respective industries before diving straight into speculations about you. The more you read, the more your stomach churned with something unfamiliar.
It's clear whoever wrote the article have zero idea and respect about you. They mentioned you're someone who's nothing but a gold-digger, dating Jake purely for his money and family background. It disgusts you—the fact that you're being reduced to nothing more than a simple girl who wants nothing more than money and the fact that you're being lumped in the same group as the other girls in the academy.
Your blood boiled, nails digging into your palm with your teeth grinding down. To make matters worse, the comment section wasn't helping at all.
Pause. Isn't that (Name) from Decelis?
I'm surprised a nobody like her is able to charm her way into Jake's heart.
Nah, this gotta be a joke. Didn't know April's Fool is here LOL.
Your heart pounded so loud that it drowned out your surroundings. You stared at it, like the comments section and article will vanish if you stared hard enough. And then—
Your phone rang.
Both of you flinched, two pairs of eyes darting towards the screen. Your breath caught when you saw Jake's name flashing across it.
"Speak of the devil," your best friend murmured but you paid her no mind, passing her phone back to her and picked yours up, ignoring how your hand was shaking as you accepted the call, placing it against your left ear.
"Hello?"
There was a brief pause on the other line before Jake sighed. "We need to talk."
Ten minutes later, he knocked on your door. You opened it to him dressed casually—a long gray hoodie with the hood up, a pair of black sweatpants with the strings untied. Judging from his attire, he must've drove straight to your dorm after he hung up. Or maybe, he was already in his car. You moved aside, letting him in and closed the door behind you. Ningning chose to head to her room to give you two privacy so you can talked in the living room.
"Do you want anything to drink?" You offered but he shook his head.
"It's fine, it'll be quick," he answered, politely waving off your offer.
You nodded, gesturing for him to sit on the couch and he obliged, with you sitting on the other end, leaving some distance between the two of you. The moment Jake sat down, he pushed the hood off his head, revealing his smooth, fluffy black hair. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he ran a hand through it, seemingly frustrated and hesitant, like he's hiding something.
But you didn't push him, giving him the time and room to speak whenever he's ready. It turns out you didn't have to wait long, for he inhaled and exhaled.
"Everyone saw the news, including my parents and they want to meet you," he said, hands fiddling with the ends of the strings of his sweatpants.
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you gotta say?" He repeated.
You squirmed about on the couch. "Well, yeah? What else do you want me to say? I'm guessing meeting your fake boyfriend's parents is part of the agreement, right? Besides, it's just a simple family gathering. How hard can it be?"
Jake grimaced, now fiddling with the ring snugly wrapped around his right index finger. "Well, my parents aren't really the… best parents in the world. They aren't like those loving and warm parents out there."
You waved off his words. "I'll be fine, trust me. Besides, you're not the only one who has that too."
He nodded. "Right, so we'll be meeting them tomorrow evening and—"
"What? Tomorrow!?" You exclaimed and he flinched, startled by your sudden outburst.
"Oh Jesus, don't shout! You're gonna give me a heart attack! What happened to you saying you'll be fine?"
"That was before I find out it's happening tomorrow! Wait, don't you rich people have a dress code!? Are we going to a Michelin-Star restaurant? I swear my table manners are fine but I don't know if it's up to your standards and—"
Jake shifted closer, placing both hands on your shoulders. The mere contact from his calloused fingers was enough to silence you mid-rambling. "Slow down, (Name). You'll be fine, just trust me. And you won't be alone in this. I'll be with you the entire time."
You paused, locking eyes with him. With the close proximity, you're able to see his long eyelashes and the deadly, sharp and slight curve of his nose. None of you dared to look away, seemingly getting lost in the moment. You sworn you saw how his eyes flicked down to your parted lips before back up. It's fast and fleeting but you saw it.
Thud!
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
Something heavy was dropped on the floor followed by Ningning cursing at the top of her lungs, causing the two of you to flinch, moving away from one another. Jake sank his teeth onto his bottom lip and rose to his full height.
"I, uh, should get going. We'll go shopping tomorrow morning for your outfit. I'll text you when I reach," he said, voice steady.
You nodded, the motion itself stiff and robotic. "R-Right. Urm, how does ten in the morning sounds?"
"Yeah, sounds good to me."
You see him out, bidding him farewell and good night before closing the door. Your shoulders sagged with relief as you leaned against it, gently knocking your head against the cool surface while staring at the ceiling, trying to regain your bearings. You rested a hand over your chest—right where your heart was, able to feel it beating rapidly against your ribcage.
Fuck, I really don't like this feeling at all. Sim Jaeyun, you are truly a dangerous person to be with.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
The next day came sooner than your liking, giving you roughly ten to eleven hours to mentally prepare yourself. You got ready in the nick of time, sneaking out of the dorm after seeing Jake's message while Ningning was still blissfully asleep, all cooped up in her comfortable bed. You got into the passenger seat, closing the door beside you and he pulled away from the roadside, driving off to wherever your destination is.
"Where are we going?" You inquired.
"To get you a outfit for tonight's dinner," he curtly replied, eyes focused on the road ahead of him.
You blinked. "What's wrong with my own clothes?"
"Nothing's wrong, it's just…" His voice trailed off before he continued, "take this as an apology gift for dragging you into my personal problem."
You raised an eyebrow. "Since when the Sim Jaeyun do apology gifts?" You teased him, voice light-hearted and mischievous.
The boy groaned and sent you a glare that contrasts the playful glint in his eyes. "Haha, very funny. Just so you know, you're the only person I've done this to."
"Right, and I'm the president of Seoul," he deadpanned.
"…You're really not funny."
"Whatever floats your boat."
Ten to fifteen minutes later, you arrived at your destination—a mall. It's not the malls you've been to. This was different. Heck, the moment you stepped in, it doesn't even feel like a mall. Your jaw dropped, nearly hitting the marbled, polished floor as you take in your surroundings with wide eyes and obvious awe written all over your face.
Jake, on the other hand, entered like he owns the place. He didn't pause to look around, already walking towards one of the shops that's situated directly in front of him, leaving you to stumble after him, not wanting to be left behind. The staff's postures straightened at the sight of him, bowing at a sharp ninety-degrees with hands positioned before them.
"Good morning, Jake-ssi. Is there anything we can help you with?" One of them asked, her voice professional and polite.
He gestured to you, moving to sit on one of the many couches. "Help her find a dress for tonight's dinner. I don't care about the price, just put it on my card."
You hated how those words along with how casual he was made your heart fluttered. The staff didn't react, merely nodding before leading you further into the shop. They brought you to a few display racks that has a wide variety of dresses hanging on it. It's colorful—pastel, dull, muted and other colors were seen.
"Do you have any color preferences?" She asked.
You distractedly shook your head, unable to look away from the unlimited options you can choose from. "Uh, not really. As long as it fits the dress code for a formal dinner."
The staff nodded, already getting to work—swiftly snatching dresses off the racks with impressive speed. In a blink of an eye, she thrusted three dresses into your arms before directing you to one of the changing rooms. Thankfully, she didn't enter with you or you would've been utterly embarrassed, not wanting to be seen as a naive clueless girl who doesn't know how to change.
You changed into the first dress you grabbed, checking yourself in the body-length mirror in the changing room. The dress was a champagne-colored satin that awkwardly clung around your waist while the neckline dipped far lower than you were comfortable with. Sure, it's pretty but it doesn't feel like you.
Despite that, you stepped out of the changing room hesitantly, smoothing down the fabric as your eyes found Jake, who had moved to sit on a velvet couch nearer to the changing room. He was on his phone, seemingly scrolling through social media before he raised his head, sensing your presence. All it took was one sweep of you from head to toe before he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.
"No."
You blinked. "No?"
"You look like you're attending a red carpet event after-party. My mother will love it, which is exactly why I hate it," he vaguely gestured at the dress.
You shot him a flat look, spinning to disappear into the changing room. This time, the second dress was softer—a dark navy dress with lace sleeves and a fitted silhouette. It's so fitted that it's hard to breathe properly. It's on the safer route too—more conservative but again, it's not you. When you stepped out, Jake actually took a few moments to examine you before he frowned.
You sighed and crossed your arms. "What now?"
"It's too… formal. You look like you're about to attend a corporate charity gala."
"That's kinda specific."
"It is, from personal experience."
You resist the urge to flip him off or throw a shoe at his face. For the third time, you went back to the changing room and slipped on the final dress, while sending thoughts and prayers to the heavens, praying the sooner you're done with this, the sooner you can go home.
The moment you worn it, you knew this is the one. The fabric was a deep black, elegant and simple in the best way possible. It hugged you perfectly without being excessive, the silky material falling effortlessly to your legs with subtle details along the neckline and back, making it looked expensive without trying too hard.
You stared at your reflection, mesmerized before stepping out. This time, Jake wasn't looking at his phone anymore, patiently waiting for you with the device set aside.
He froze. For the first time for the past thirty minutes or so, he have nothing to say—no teasing remarks or sarcastic comments. His gaze lingered on you silently, eyes trailing down—from the dress to the way the fabric rested against your figure before returning to your face. Your breath hitched under the sheer intensity of his gaze, goosebumps forming and your body feeling unusually warm.
He didn't move an muscle, like he's permanently glued to the couch. You can tell he's trying to keep himself together, trying not to lose his mind but the faint look of disbelief lingering across his features gave him away.
You shifted awkwardly on the spot. "So… what do you think?"
He didn't answer immediately, which only made it worse. Then, he let out a quiet, soft exhale before the corners of his lips curled up slightly.
"…I like it," he said, voice noticeably lower than before.
Your heart—the one and true traitor of the century—betrayed you once again with an embarrassing skip. Jake's eyes flickered over you one more time, like he's trying to capture your current state and keep it in his mind before he added softly, almost to himself, even though he's not the only one in the room.
"A lot."
True to his words, the purchase was placed on his card and he paid without batting an eye at the ridiculous figure. You sworn you've never seen that many zeroes in your entire life. The staff thank you as they showed you out of the shop, with you holding the shopping bag as Jake walked beside you. You were about to say something when your stomach chose that moment to humiliate you, by grumbling out loud.
He stopped and shot you an amused look. "Sounds like someone's hungry."
Your face and cheeks flushed red. "It's not my fault I didn't eat breakfast before leaving."
He snorted, turning to lead you somewhere and you followed, easily matching his pace. By now, there were more people roaming about in the mall as compared to before. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested meeting at ten. So don't blame me."
"Oh how mature of you, putting the blame on a woman."
Woah, Imma stop you right there, missy. You're making me sound like I hate women. I'm all in for women's rights," he pointed at you, like you've said something scandalous.
You snickered and the next thing you knew, you found yourself seated in an expensive restaurant with a menu that could cost you an organ to afford one dish. Jake placed your order on your behalf and when the waitress finally left you alone, you turned to him, arms resting on the table surface.
"So, is there anything I should take note of when I'm meeting your parents tonight?" You inquired.
Jake pursed his lips, busy in unfolding the napkin to place it on his lap. "Not really. Just be yourself and if something happens, leave it to me."
"Sure, but what if they ask how do we meet? What do we tell them?" You prod further.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Simple, just say you need my help to tutor you for one of the modules and from there, we kept talking, found out we have lots of common interests and ended up dating. It's easy and foolproof. No one will doubt that."
You nodded in silent approval. "Yeah, that sounds good to me too. Do I need to say or do anything to impress your father? Since he's part of the Richest Man list."
Something cold and sharp flickered across his face at the mention of his father. It was quick and anyone would have missed it. But you didn't and it was gone when he blinked, that brief moment shoved aside.
"No need, he doesn't care about anything unless it benefits him," he replied.
You frowned, finding his response vague and strange, like he's hiding something. Before you could ask another question, the same waitress from before stopped by your table, placing your food down before walking away again. The question was washed down the drain the moment your eyes landed on your dish, mouth nearly watering at the amazing presentation.
You wasted no time in digging in, feeling a bunch of flavors exploding in your mouth with every bite you took. You couldn't hold back the gleeful noises you let out, acting like a little girl. Jake, on the other hand, haven't touched his food and was simply staring at you. He chuckled at your reaction, picking his own set of cutlery up.
"That good huh," he commented.
You eagerly nodded your head. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to afford this. It must be nice being rich. You can solve all of your problems with money."
You meant it as a light jab and a joke. Nothing more and nothing less. However, Jake didn't feel the same way as you. Instead of his usual responses—a teasing remark or a sarcastic retort, he was silent. He didn't say a thing but there were a few things you saw. How his jaw muscles twitched, how he tongued the inner-side of his cheek and how he tightened his grip on his fork and knife.
The silence stretched for the next few seconds, until it's borderline suffocating. You didn't dare to say anything else, not wanting to be the cause of him losing his temper. From where you sat, you can tell he's seething with rage and how he's obviously doing his best to not snap in public, not in front of everyone.
All it takes is for someone to snap a picture or record a short clip, upload it onto the Internet and all hell will break loose. This silent treatment—it's ironic enough for you to nearly snort out loud but you held it back, went on even when you returned to the car and even until he dropped you off at your dorm. You were ready to alight when Jake finally spoke up, one hand loosely grabbing the steering wheel while the other rested on the console.
"I'll pick you up at seven tonight," he said and you felt a pang of disappointment but was quick to shrug it aside.
"Great, see you later," you answered and he wordlessly nodded, turning to face the front again. Your hand was already on the door handle, ready to open it when you stopped to look over your shoulder.
"Jake, I just want to say, even if tonight goes horribly, I don't think you have to try so hard to impress them," you said quietly.
He stilled at your words. You took that as your chance to continue. "You're already enough as you are."
For a few moments, the only sound inside the car was the faint hum of the engine. Jake didn't move, didn't joke or smirk. He simply stared ahead before finally looking at you and the look of his face shocked you. There's no teasing laced in his expression. Instead, it's just something unreadable—quiet and almost vulnerable, like he had torn down all of his walls to reveal his true, raw self to you.
"You really love saying things like that so casually, huh," he murmured.
You frowned. "What?"
He lets out a small breath of laughter, the sound more nervous than amused. He shook his head lightly and glanced away, eyes averted to the side to stare out of the window.
"Nothing, forget it," he softly said, "Just… thanks. That's all."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
You felt more and more nervous once every hour passed and when it was six-thirty in the evening, you were already a walking bundle of nerves. You were almost done getting ready—taking a shower, using the best-smelling shampoo you have, ensuring that every part and everything about you looked up to what you supposed, a rich family's expectations is, when Ningning burst into your room without warning.
"Damn, where you going dressed like that?" She asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you finished applying your make-up.
You sighed, closing the cushion puff with a soft 'click' sound. "Jake's bringing me to meet his parents. They saw the news and they want to meet me."
Your friend made a face at that. "Eugh, that sounds complicated and boring. But alas, this is the fate of rich people like them."
You absentmindedly hummed, checking yourself in the mirror before rising. You have changed into the dress Jake bought for you before doing your make-up. Speaking of the dress…
Ningning whistled, pushing herself off the doorframe and entered your room. "Wait, I've never seen this dress before. When did you get this?"
You coughed, patting down the fabric of the dress. "Jake bought it for me. He took me out this morning to buy an outfit for the dinner tonight."
Silent.
Your friend was rendered speechless, gaping at you, like you've spoken in a different language. She then grabbed your shoulders with both hands, nails faintly digging into your skin.
"(Name), do you know what that means?" She asked, voice creepily low.
"Uh, you're kinda scaring me here."
She ignored your words, a maniac-like glint twinkled in her eyes. "You do know Jake doesn't do this for anyone, right?"
You glanced at the digital clock resting on your study table and it's six-forty five, fifteen more minutes before he reaches. "What are you trying to say, Ningning? Seriously, I don't have time for this. I still need to wear my heels."
She let out a loud and heavy sigh, like she's talking to a toddler who's still too young to comprehend how the world works. "I'm saying, Miss (Full Name), Jake likes you."
You stilled, staring at her blankly. For a second, your mind short-circulated.
Jake likes you.
Those three words kept echoing in your mind, over and over on a broken, endless and repetitive cycle. It sends an unfamiliar warmth blooming straight in your chest, making you feel all giddy and if you were anyone else, they would've been giggling, twirling and kicking their feet.
But you, on the other hand, felt like a pail of freezing, cold water was dumped on you without warning. Despite that, the way your heart reacted differently said otherwise.
You forced out a laugh that shook at the end and it sounded way less convincing than you intended. "No, he doesn't. He's only doing this to appease to his parents and it just so happens that I'm meeting his parents. It's part of the act."
Ningning gave you a pitiful and judgmental look. "Right. Because billionaires regularly buy custom dresses, personally pick girls up and stare at them like they're their entire world."
You scowled, ignoring the sudden heat rushing up your face. "He doesn't like me. You're being dramatic and delusional."
"I'm being observant. Anyone with eyes and nose can see and smell the tension. You need to get laid too."
"Ningning!"
Beep beep!
Before she could continue her interrogation, the loud beeping sound interrupted your conversation. Never in your life have you felt so relieved for him to be your knight in shining armor.
"He's here," you blurted out, swiftly making your escape before she could say another word.
"Come back here, young lady! We're not done yet!" She yelled after you but it was too late.
You fled out of the dorm building after clumsily slipping on your heels. Every step you took echoed against the rough pavement before you slowed down when your eyes landed on him. Unlike the usual, Jake was standing outside of his car, casually leaning against it. And somehow, he looks even better than he did.
A tailored black suit fits him perfectly, further accentuating his broad shoulders while the crisp white dress shirt underneath greatly contrast the dark fabric. His tie that was loosened slightly—like he wanted to look formal without appearing too stiff, and the soft evening lights only made him looked unfairly more handsome.
Your eyes drifted down, breath stuttering when you saw he's holding a bouquet of flowers. White roses neatly wrapped in black paper rested on his hands. You caught the way his posture straightened slightly when he saw your figure as he pushed himself off the car.
For a brief moment, none of you spoke. You were too distracted by the amount of effort he clearly put in for tonight. Jake, on the other hand, was staring at you like he forgot how to breathe again. He didn't move, staring at you with wide eyes, awestruck as you continued walking until you stood before him.
"You.. wow, you look… gorgeous," he breathed out, tongue darting out to wet his lips, like he has forgotten how to speak.
You smiled shyly, raising a hand to tuck some stray strands of hair behind your left ear but Jake was faster. Your breath hitched when he took one large stride towards you, shifting the bouquet of flowers to his left hand and he tucked it behind your ear. His fingers grazed against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
And then, the dorm building's doors burst open behind you, startling the living lights out of you and Jake. Ningning stepped out, took one look at the close proximity of you and Jake, another look at the bouquet of flowers he held and gasped so loud it's a miracle she didn't choke on air.
"Oh my god, and you call this fake dating!?" She exclaimed dramatically while pointing at you.
Jake immediately coughed into his fist while suppressing the urge to laugh or chuckle. You, on the other hand, whirled around on the spot and shot her your best glare. But the effect wasn't futile with how your cheeks were flushed in a light shade of reddish-pink.
"Ningning!" You shouted, face turning as red as a tomato.
Your friend merely cackled, ready to leave when she stopped, remembering something. She fully turned on the spot and pointed at Jake from where she stood. The boy was confused, looking left and right before pointing at himself, with a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression on his face.
"You better bring her home in one piece, Sim Jaeyun, or I won't forgive you," she warned him.
Jake involuntarily shivered and nodded. "You can count on me. I'll stick to her side the entire time."
She nodded, pleased with his response, bid you farewell and returned to the dorm building, leaving the two of you standing outside, minds reeling from what just happened. You looked at one another before bursting out into a fit of laughter.
"Your friend's really scary," he commented, moving to open the passenger door for you.
"Scary? She cries whenever we watched movies. I don't think she's scary," you retorted, sliding in and placed your small purse on your lap.
Jake chuckled before handing the bouquet to you. "This is for you."
"Oh, thank you," you thanked him as you accepted the flowers, bringing it to your nose to smell the fresh fragrance of the flowers.
Jake closed the passenger door on your behalf, walked round the car and got into the driver's seat. Both of you buckled your seatbelts and he switched the radio on, some pop music playing in the background and off you go. The ride was filled with non-stop chattering and laughter from you and Jake. Never in your life would you find yourself in your current position—sitting in Jake's car, talking and treating him like he's a long-term friend.
With how you were enjoying yourself, the ride felt short. The once familiar streets and glowing storefronts had long disappeared, now replaced with quieter roads lined with towering trees, expensive architecture and estated hidden behind massive gates. Even though you're in the car, you knew the air is different—cleaner, calmer and richer.
You sat up straighter as the car turned onto a private road.
"Jake, where the hell does your parents live?" You asked, staring out of the window.
He merely smiled. "You'll see."
That answer did absolutely nothing to ease your nerves. A few minutes later, the car slowed in front of a pair of enormous black iron gates. It was guarded by a security post that's stationed at the entrance. The guards immediately recognized Jake's car and opened the gates without hesitation, granting him entrance.
Your eyes widened at the sight before you.
The driveway alone was longer than the entire road leading to your dorm building. Soft, golden lights illuminated the path ahead while fountains decorated the center of the estate grounds with water glimmering beneath the evening sky. The deeper you drove in, the more unreal everything became. Perfectly manicured gardens stretched endlessly across the private land, expensive luxury cars parked near another section of the estate. And the mansion itself—
You nearly forgot how to breathe and blink.
The house looked less like a home and more like something straight out of a billionaire magazine spread. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows glowed warmly from inside while elegant stone architecture towered over the grounds. Balconies wrapped around the upper floors and somewhere off to the side, you sworn you spotted what looked like a guest house.
The entire estate was secluded enough that you couldn't even see any other properties nearby. It's private and untouchable, the kind of place built for families powerful enough to avoid the outside world completely.
And more importantly, a place that isn't suitable for you. You felt like you're standing out like a sore thumb, already feeling nervous. The feeling only intensified once Jake parked the car near the entrance, who noticed the slight uncomfortable expression on your face.
"You alright?" He asked, unbuckling his seatbelt but made no move to alight.
"I'm fine, just trying to wrap my head around the fact that your house is bigger than the academy. This isn't something I see quite often."
He laughed, amused. "Take it in, princess. 'Cause we won't be here long."
The moment you stepped inside the estate, your nervousness only grew stronger. The interior was just as overwhelming as the exterior—towering ceilings, marbled and polished floors, crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. A man wearing a butler suit standing in the middle of the room greeted you and Jake with a respectful bow as you stopped before him.
"Welcome, Young Master. It's good to see you again," he greeted, "your parents and guests are waiting for you in the South building."
Your head snapped to him at lightning speed, eyes widening in disbelief. You saw how he frowned, confused with what he was told.
"South building? I was told this will be a simple family dinner," he said and you remained silent.
The butler too, was confused with the boy's words, his composure slipping for a brief moment. "No, Young Master. Your parents have held a celebration for you and your girlfriend. I was informed that you will be aware of this."
Jake went silent, but the way he clenched his jaw said otherwise, giving you a sneak peak of his true, unspoken feelings—anger, frustration and betrayal. "…I see, then in that case, we'll head there now. Thank you for letting us know."
"Of course, Young Master. Please, follow me," the man said, bowing with one hand stretched out before him as he took the lead, bringing you to the South building of the estate.
Jake extended his left arm and you hooked your right hand through the gap, resting your fingers on his upper shoulder. While walking, you shifted closer so you can whisper to him without anyone else overhearing your hushed conversation.
"Young Master?" You echoed, disbelief seeping into your voice, "What else are you hiding from me? You're the next President of Seoul?"
"Maybe."
You shot him an unamused look and jabbed your elbow into his side, snickering at how he visibly flinched and jumped on the spot. The man eventually brought you over to your destination—the South building, as promised. A pair of closed, wooden doors greeted you. Even when you're standing outside, you were able to hear muffled laughter, chattering and music from the other end. You swallowed, raising your free hand to pat down your hair and smoothed your dress.
"Ready to experience a rich man's world?" He murmured, leaning in to whisper into your ear, his hot breath grazing against your skin, leaving a light and fleeting sensation behind.
"Born ready. The sooner we get this done and over with, the sooner we can leave," you replied, staring ahead.
"Atta girl."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
The room fell silent once the doors was opened from inside. Everyone's eyes landed on you and Jake, observing from where they stood as you entered. The scene was straight out of a Kdrama—with the main leads stepping into the room. You're fully aware of how some recognized you—which confused you and how some whispered and murmured among themselves.
You're also aware of how some were shamelessly judging you with their chins tilted toward the ceiling, no doubt trying to flex their superiority towards you. Jake led you over to where a man and woman are standing together. One look at their features was enough to tell you they are his parents.
The man—his father, has the same eye shape as Jake, wearing a tailored-made suit that hugged him well. Just his presence alone felt intimidating, truly fitting for someone who started the business of a hospital chain.
The woman—his mother, on the other hand, worn a midnight blue silk dress. It glimmered at every move she made, enough to capture people's attention without commanding for it. Her posture is excellent and model-worthy, like she couldn't bear to let herself relax even in the comfort of her own home. She's the first to acknowledge your presence, scanning you from head to toe with a sharp, assessing gaze. It took all of you to not squirmed about on the spot.
"So, this must be the girl from the article," his father remarked, holding a glass of white champagne in his left hand.
You took that as your cue to bow slightly with one hand on your chest. "Good evening, Sir. I'm (Name), it's a pleasure meeting you."
He nodded, taking a sip of his champagne. "Tell me something about yourself, (Name)."
You blinked, momentarily caught off-guard with the abrupt question. You shared a glance with Jake, who gave you an encouraging nod and smile. You straightened yourself, letting a natural and professional smile appear on your face as you maintained eye contact with his father while occasionally glancing at his wife, ensuring she wasn't left out by the conversation.
"I'm a student in Decelis Academy, just like your son and I major in biochemistry. I also—"
You started off, about to continue when this time, his mother chimed in. It's like she doesn't care about you as a person but rather, the value you bring to the family.
"What does your parents do for a living?" She inquired.
You felt Jake stiffened beside you and you knew there's a ulterior motive behind her seemingly harmless question. You knew what she's trying to do—wanting to find ways to humiliate you in front of everyone. You assumed that's partly the reason for the sudden, unannounced celebration for Jake finding himself a partner.
Instead of giving her the ideal response, you switched tactics.
You flashed her a polite, closed-eye smile that's all sharp and deadly. "I believe what my parents work as is not related to my life or studies. I'm an independent person and I've gotten here purely on my own effort."
Jake coughed into his fist, suppressing the urge to grin outwardly at your sharp, pointed words. Anyone with common sense will be able to read between the lines, to decipher the meaning behind them. Something unreadable flickered across his father's eyes—impressed or something else you didn't know. His mother, however, was livid.
She didn't have to say it out loud, not when her strained smile barely does anything to hide her real feelings, how there's flames of hot, blinding fury burning deep in her stomach. The smile doesn't meet the look in her eyes and you saw how her fingers twitched, like she's tempted to just reach out to either slap you or grabbed you by the hair.
But she couldn't do any of that, not when all of you were in public, where everyone was watching you conversed the entire time.
After what felt like forever, she pointedly cleared her throat—the sound loud enough to pierce through the air in the room. "Right! I'm sure your parents must be very proud of you."
Then, almost immediately, she turned towards Jake, like the conversation regarding you no longer deserved her attention. "Speaking of academics, your father informed me you're still taking that… what is it called again?"
"Biochemistry," he replied calmly, way too calm for someone whose parents doesn't know what their son is studying.
She nodded. "Ah yes, that. Honestly, I've talked to a few of my friends and they mentioned the same thing. They believed that should you continue with this useless major of yours, it won't do you any good in the future."
You furrowed your eyebrows while Jake's expression didn't change.
His father hummed in agreement. "Your mother's right, Jaeyun. It doesn't matter if you're on top of your cohort every time. Recognition from your professors means very little outside university walls."
"Nonetheless, I think it's a great achievement for being able to excel in his academics," you couldn't help but pointed out, defending him.
He shifted beside you, like he knew where this was heading and how he had been through this numerous times. But unlike before, he wasn't alone anymore. Not when he has you.
His mother smiled thinly. "You're very kind to think that way."
The condescension behind her words was impossible to miss. Just hearing it was enough to make your blood boiled and she continued, launching another round of arrows to her son.
"Jaeyun has always been… difficult when it comes to expectations. My husband I have tried many times, trying to make him change his mind but apparently he's too stubborn for his own good," she ended her sentence with a soft chuckle, like it's funny to insult her own son in front of his girlfriend.
Her husband sighed under his breath. "He has inherited my wife's tendency to romanticize independence. Which I don't know if I should be proud of or not."
Jake lets out a quiet breath through his nose, like he's amused. You, however, was starting to see things from a different perspective. That maybe, just maybe, you might be wrong about him. Wrong about how you perceived him. Wrong about your assumptions about him.
His father delivered the final blow with a disappointed huff. "Most children will be grateful for the opportunities handed to them. And yet, my son insists on pursuing his futile dreams instead of preparing for future responsibilities that a Sim should be handling in the future."
The atmosphere surrounding you grew heavier and heavier after each sentence, until you felt like you're walking on a tightrope hanging in the air. Jake simply swiped a glass of red champagne off a tray from a passing waiter and took a sip from it. That's when you realized something—the lack of response from him. How he did nothing to defend or protect himself. How he simply lets them insult him in front of his face.
You knew the reason for his avoidant behavior—how he had went through this many times to realize there's no point in saying anything that could get them to listen to him. And somehow, that hurts more than to watch him fought back. Your shoulders trembled, your free hand clenched into fist as it rested by your side. It's the kind of anger that kept burning and rising in temperature the longer you listened to them tearing Jake apart so casually, like criticizing their own son in front of strangers is a regular thing.
"With all due respect, I think it's honestly unbelievable how both of you kept talking about Jake like he's some sort of disappointment when he has probably accomplished more than most people ever will," you started, voice trembling from the overwhelming frustration.
Silence.
You pressed on without giving them a second to formulate a response. "He's one of the top students in the academy. He's respected by professors. He's tutoring me in my studies and he's also pursuing something he genuinely cares about instead of replying on your family name to hand him a position. Do you know how difficult that is?"
The more you spoke, the louder your voice became until you were practically shouting at the top of your lungs. Jake stared at you openly, speechless and utterly dumbfounded with your behavior and how you're standing up for him.
His mother's expression hardened immediately. "Excuse me?"
"No, because from the way you spoke to him, it sounds like none of that matters unless he becomes exactly who you want him to be. He's not a tool for you to use. He's your son. Someone who you raised and carried for nine months. You're not a good mother," you pressed on, unable to stop the words from tumbling out, one after another.
At this point, the room have gone so quiet that should someone dropped a pin, the sound will echo crystal clear among the four walls. Even the music playing was paused as well. Every single guest observed from where they stood, getting a front-row seat of the scene unfolding by itself.
"You kept calling him stubborn. But to me, that's not stubbornness. That's courage. The courage to keep choosing his own path when the people around him constantly make him feel like shit. And honestly? If your son can sit here respectfully after years of being treated like this, then I think that says a lot about his character. That alone puts him above you," you breathed out.
"YOU—!"
His mother snapped, unable to control herself anymore as she screamed at you but you didn't flinch or back down. His father was quiet the entire time but something unreadable glimmered in his eyes. And Jake? You turned to him and your breath was punched out of your lungs when you saw the unfiltered, raw expression on his face.
The expression of someone who's starting to realize you meant something to him.
Before anyone else can react, Jake moved. He slammed the barely-touched glass down on a nearby table with enough force for some people to flinch. He turned to his parents and smiled, the kind of smile that's nothing but mockery happiness and faint arrogance. But at the same time, it's lighter too, like your words have lifted a heavy, intolerable burden off his shoulders.
"Sorry, Father and Mother, we will be taking our leave now," he said, his voice leaving no room for any objections.
"Jaeyun, wait—"
His mother called out but he turned a deaf ear, already grabbing you by your hand and dragged you out of the room with everyone's eyes tracking your movements and intertwined hands. No one said a thing, walking in silence and it was only when both of you reached his car and got in was when you burst out laughing. At first, it was a simple laugh before it evolved into a mixture of half-disbelief and half adrenaline-fueled hysteria.
"Oh my god," you gasped out, running a hand through your hair, not caring that you're messing it up in the process, "I think I just started a war with your parents."
Jake stared at you for a second and then, he laughed too. It's an actual laugh—warm, breathless and genuine. You blinked, surprised with the sight before you as he leaned back into the driver's seat, shaking his head fondly while still laughing under his breath.
"You should've seen your face. You looked like you saw a ghost," he wheezed out between laughs, struggling to speak and breathe.
"My face?" You repeated. "Your mother looked like she's about to rip my hair off. I can't go bald when I'm still in my twenties!"
"I'll pay good money to see that."
That only made both of you laughed harder, until you're clutching the sides of your stomachs with tears brimming your eyes, blurring your vision and until you're practically wheezing and gasping for breathe. The tension from the dinner was slowly fading, now replaced with nothing but laughter and honestly, if you were to think about it, the whole situation sounds insane, from the start to the end.
"You basically just told one of the richest families in the country that they are terrible people," he said after calming down, his mind still reeling from what he just witnessed with his own eyes.
"You made it sound worse if you word it like that."
"I'm just saying the truth."
You let out another laugh, body going pliant as you slumped against the seat, exhausted after laughing to your hearts' content. Silence was quick to follow suit but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence. But rather, it's warm and comfortable. He turned slightly in his seat to properly look at you, the faint glow from the entrance lights illuminating his features softly. Without the tension from earlier, he looks different now.
More calmer and at peace. And the way he looked at you made you feel dangerously unstable, sending warmth down the length of your spine.
"You know, many people would've stayed silent back there," he murmured.
You awkwardly shrugged, eyes drifting down to stare at your hands resting on your lap. "Well, I was angry that they dared to talk about you like that. Like you're invisible."
He smirked. "Nah, you were livid."
You shot him a glare and he chuckled, features softening. "But I'm serious. You never fail to impress me, you know?"
Your heart skipped a beat, nearly jumping out of your throat.
"You weren't scared of them at all."
"That's because they weren't being fair to you," you answered without hesitation, like it's been resting on the tip of your tongue.
He stilled upon hearing your words. For a brief and split second, something vulnerable crossed his face before he looked down, quietly exhaling through his nose. He shifted, resting one elbow against the window while the other was on the console between you and him.
"…Thank you, really," he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but sincerity.
Hearing it was enough to make your chest ache. You raised your head, only to realize how close the two of you are. Somewhere during the conversation, Jake had leaned closer without you noticing. He's so close—close enough for you to see every detail in his eyes and close enough that the air in the cramped, still space feels heavier.
Your breath hitched, watching as his eyes flickered down to your parted lips before back to your eyes. What nearly made you risked it all however, was the look on his face, like he wants to do something reckless and dangerous. Your heart hammered violently against your ribcage when he lifted his right hand, fingers brushing against a few stray strands of hair near your face before gingerly tucking it behind your left ear with such gentleness that it's enough to make you swoon.
Instead of pulling his hand back, he lets it lingered near your head, a few seconds longer than usual. If it was anyone else, they probably wouldn't have noticed it. But when it comes to you, you noticed everything about him, whether you knew it or not.
For one terrifying second, you genuinely thought he was about to kiss you. And judging from the conflicted look in his eyes—how he's fighting his own inner battle, he thought about it too. Thought about kissing you until you're breathless, until you're trembling in his arms and until the only thing you can say was his name, over and over.
And then he pulled away.
He dropped his hand, reaching to buckle his seatbelt with his hands borderline shaking—from the amount of sheer will and self-discipline it took for him to pull back. His jaw tightened, like he's forcing himself to do this—turning the car's engine on while trying to grasp onto the final few shreds of his self-restraint.
You did the same as well and no other word was exchanged for the rest of the ride. You avoided looking at him the entire time, choosing to stare out of the window. Even when he dropped you off, you barely managed to utter out a soft, weak "good night" before scurrying back into the dorm building. Ningning was already asleep in her room, saving you the chances of being ambushed by her.
You placed a hand on your chest, able to feel your heart still racing uncontrollably in your chest. What your friend told you echoed in your mind, crystal clear and loud as day.
"Win-win situation? You mean a ticket straight to hell. You're gonna get your feelings played."
Except in this case, you weren't sure if he's playing with your feelings or not but alas, only time can tell.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
After that day, something shifted between you and Jake. Both of you weren't like before—you constantly arguing with him while Jake didn't bother reacting to your outbursts or complaints. But rather, he treated you like you're his actual girlfriend. And that's a huge problem on his own. You're always spending time with him—from morning for your first class to the end of the day—with him tutoring you during your many little tutor sessions.
With the time spent together, you were starting to notice the little things about him—how he fiddled with the rings on his fingers whenever he's deep in thought, how he chewed on his bottom lip with his eyebrows furrowed while trying to come up with an idea to explain it to you in a way you could understand, how he pushed his glasses up whenever it's slipping down the sharp, slightly curved edge of his nose and so on.
Heck, you even found yourself often staring at him while turning a blind eye to the people and your surroundings. You also found yourself constantly thinking about him the moment you're separated, wondering what he was doing, wondering if he's even eating and taking care of himself and—
"Holy shit, you're fucking whipped," Ningning told you once you were done rambling to her, confiding in her.
And like the true and amazing friend she was, she let you rant your feelings out before summarizing everything with five simple words. You groaned, leaning forward to lightly knock your head against the table in your dorm. Today marked the last day of classes and students will be having a one month break before classes resumed. Before the final semester begin and after that, you and Ningning will be entering your final year in the academy before graduating.
That is, if you managed to find a way to pay your school fees in one go. Until now, you still couldn't figured out a solution to your greatest dilemma of your life. Every day slipping through your fingers meant you're one day closer to getting expelled from Decelis Academy.
"I can't believe you're right," you bemoaned, words muffled with your face squashed against the table surface.
Ningning sighed, reaching over to lightly whack your shoulders. "Get your face off the table. It's dirty and I told you so, didn't I? You need to listen to me more. Like for example, when are you gonna tell him?"
You lifted your face, leaning back into your seat. "Tell him what?"
Your friend rolled her eyes at your pathetic attempt of playing dumb. "Telling Jake that you're gonna get kicked out in like, what? Five months' time?"
You flinched at the sudden mention of your expulsion, even though you were just thinking about it a few seconds ago. You didn't grace her with an immediate answer, choosing to down the remaining of your canned fizzy drink, swallowing it before replying.
"I don't think he cares. Besides, he's not gonna find out anyway and even if he did, what is he gonna do?" You barked out a laugh but the sound itself was void of any form of warmth.
Ningning frowned. "(Name)—"
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
Both of you turned your heads to where your phone was lying—on the lower left of the table with the screen lit up. Sighing, you picked it up and accepted the call to press your phone against your left ear without checking the caller ID, which proved to be a horrible mistake.
"Hello?"
"(Name)?"
Your blood turned cold. Your heart stopped beating, falling to the depth of your stomach when you recognized the female voice from the other line. Heck, even if you wanted to, there's no way you could forget about her. Not when she's the woman who had raised you for nine months straight. Not when she's the woman who made it her responsibility to keep embarrassing you in front of your relatives—her siblings and everyone else.
"…Mom? Did something happen?" You answered a few seconds later, noting how Ningning stiffened at your words. As someone who had visited your family many times, she had witnessed how… horrible your relationship with your mother was and still is.
"Oh, nothing serious happen, don't worry. I was wondering if you're coming home during the break, along with that boyfriend of yours."
Your fingers curled tighter around your phone. "..I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a boyfriend."
She clicked her tongue. "Don't lie to me. I saw the article and imagine how shock I was to find out that's none other than my daughter. To think she has the ability to find herself a boyfriend and a Sim too!"
You closed your eyes and let out a resigned sigh. You knew better than to reject her, knowing how persistent she can be, how she will keep calling and bugging you until you have no choice but to give in. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, eyes still closed and you were able to feel your friend's unwavering gaze on you.
"…Fine, I'll come home and bring him along," you relented.
She made a pleased sound. "Good, make sure to be on your best behavior, (Name). You're not a child anymore."
And just like that, she hung up, not bothering to bid you farewell or wait for your response, leaving you to stare at your blank phone screen instead. Once the call ended, Ningning wasted no time in pouncing on you.
"Seriously!? Why did you say yes? You could've told her you're coming with me to visit my family during the break and she won't bother you anymore," she exclaimed.
You shrugged your shoulders. "It's fine, I can handle her. I'm not that helpless girl anymore."
Ningning pursed her lips, disappointed and frustrated with how she couldn't help you any further. She reached across the table to place her hand above yours. "..Alright, if anything happens, call me. I don't care if it's big or small. Just call me, please."
You smiled and gave her hand a light, assuring squeeze. "Got it."
"Good, now go call that soon-to-be husband of yours and tell him about your plan."
"Ningning!"
Thirty minutes later, after you've showered and cleaned the table with Ningning, you were in your room, seated on the chair as you idly spin about in a slow circle. You called Jake, who answered immediately after the second ring and you placed it on speaker mode.
"(Name)? What's up? Need help with studies again?" He teased.
You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see it. "No, you dumbass. I need a favor from you."
"Sounds serious, hit me with it."
You fiddled with the hem of your shorts. "My mom wants me to go home during the break and she wants to meet you. We'll be there for one week."
Silence.
Jake didn't say a thing and you assumed he wasn't interested, already rushing to get the words out of your mouth. "Look, you can choose to say no and I won't be mad. It's just that, she saw the article and thinks we're dating and—"
"I'll do it."
You stilled. "…What?"
"I said, I'll do it. I'll go with you to visit your mother. Is there anything I should bring?" He casually asked, like this is something as minor as the weather's forecast itself.
You owlishly blinked and even stopped spinning, thinking you were mishearing things. "Wait… you'll do it? Really?"
"Yeah," he sounds amused and you could imagined the amused look on his face, "why do you sound so surprised?"
"I don't know," you threw your hands up and gestured wildly to the space around you, "don't you have like, family business to tend to? Maybe follow your father to the company or something?"
"…You're truly a unique human being," he mused, sounding far too amused for someone who just agreed to meet your parents.
You sit up straighter in your chair. "Hey, what is that supposed to mean? You know what, don't bother answering. Just pick me up tomorrow at eleven and we'll drive from here."
"Eugh, seriously? How long is the drive gonna be?"
secret.bf!beomgyu x colleague.gf!reader .ᐟ headcanons
warnings: SMUT! p in v, dom!beomgyu x sub!reader, office sex (duh!), takes place interchangeably between their offices, rough sex (i think), unprotected sex (don't!), he has a slight pain kink, creampie, mentions of fingering & squirting, teasing, sexting, mentions of getting married, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, sexism in the workplace, beomgyu is down bad, attempted fluff at the end
scznote: these were supposed to purely be headcanons then it became a bit of a drabble >< woops (1.2k words) may contain errors!
based on this ask i received from an anon a while ago! majority of this became filth, ah! hope you like it anonie! x
secretbf!beomgyu who is the secretary of your company’s ceo. he's sharp, quick on his feet and carries an effortless authority that makes entire departments bend to his command, under the instruction of his superior, of course. most people in office are just as intimidated by him as they are your boss – considering he ranks far above you within the company's hierarchy
secretbf!beomgyu who first fell head over heels in love with you after watching you fight relentlessly for the women in your marketing department. he had watched you advocate for the recognition and promotions you all deserved. he had watched you demand accountability in a workplace where the men constantly resold your ideas as their own and god, beomgyu had admired the way you had refused to shrink yourself to keep the peace
secretbf!beomgyu who had quietly raised your department’s concerns to the appropriate executives, having made sure the issue would no longer be ignored
secretbf!beomgyu who believed in you when your male colleagues dismissed you and your own female coworkers chose to be passive
secretbf!beomgyu who, when promotion season arrived, had made sure that your name was finally attached to the work you had been carrying all along – putting in a good word for you with the chief executive at the official board meeting – his heart having soared when the other executives and shareholders had agreed at the mention of your name, securing your promotion
secretbf!beomgyu who had kept in touch with you even after you'd earned your promotion. lunch together had turned into dinner and dinner had eventually turned into late nights and hushed confessions at his place – and the rest is history
secretbf!beomgyu who does a brilliant job at keeping your relationship under wraps – or so he thinks
— aside from the countless bouquets of your favourite flowers sent right to your office under the guise of an anonymous secret admirer, along with your usual order of coffee every single morning, secretbf!beomgyu is terrible at hiding that he's hopelessly in love with you, his gaze alone giving him away
— and if your boss notices, he doesn't say anything, simply shooting you and beomgyu amused looks
secretbf!beomgyu who fails to control the way his eyes soften and his grin widens whenever you enter the room or the way the executives exchange knowing glances every time he personally volunteers to “review” marketing reports that only happen to come from your division
secretbf!beomgyu sends you risky texts during meetings with your marketing department, just to see your cheeks flush a deep pink while he looks ahead, putting on an innocent act as he adjusts his glasses – the casual "you look extra good today. sit on my face?" making you short-circuit
secretbf!beomgyu who can't keep his hands off of you, lord
secretbf!beomgyu who sneaks you into his office for a steamy makeout session, like routine, every single day at lunch or especially after said meetings, even more so when you're working together on overtime. he just can't help himself
secretbf!beomgyu who, against your better judgement, almost always turns your makeout sessions into quickies – locking his office door the second you step over that threshold
— and who are you to say no when your handsome, tall, charmer of a boyfriend backs you against the nearest wall or desk, or seats himself in his leather chair, pulling you right into his lap
"have i ever told you how sexy you look when you're pitching all your ideas to the board? sitting through those meetings gets a lot harder when you’re the one presenting"
— you give in every time, weak when his hands grip at your stockings, when he ruts his hard-on against the already soaking fabric of your panties, lips and teeth licking, sucking, biting at the skin of your neck
secretbf!beomgyu who only tuts when you whine, "beomgyu, not here—" , shutting you up with a hungry kiss. your moans are all swallowed greedily by his mouth, bringing every protest to a halt. "shh, sit back for me" , he commands in that tone that sends shivers down your spine and you obey him within seconds
secretbf!beomgyu who loves that you're barely able to keep quiet as he takes you rough, the desk – or whatever surface he's got you against – shaking and squeaking vigorously beneath you
secretbf!beomgyu who mocks you for every slip of your mouth, for every needy whine and sobby whimper that accidentally tumbles from your lips
secretbf!beomgyu who stuffs his tie in your mouth, biting back grunts and moans when your hands pull and tug at his hair – hard
secretbf!beomgyu who can actually keep it down, save for the breathy, gruff sighs that manage to escape him and the occasional hisses through his teeth when your cunt squeezes around him
secretbf!beomgyu who has to fight the urge to land a loud smack against your ass when he has you bent over, gripping at the flesh like an absolute beast
secretbf!beomgyu who rams even harder into you when one of your male colleagues, specifically hueningkai from the IT & tech department calls and knocks at the door of your office – reveling in the way your eyes widen and you clamp a hand over your mouth
oh, how secretbf!beomgyu despises the sweet smiles and texts hueningkai leaves for you on your desktop whenever he's fixed a bug on your workstation. he's greatly annoyed that the blonde even thinks he has a chance
secretbf!beomgyu who grits things out like, "should put a ring on your finger so everyone knows you're mine" , "look at you, all fucked out on my cock. he could never fuck you like this" , "pretty head full of marketing plans runs empty when you're full of me, yeah?" and "what would the board say if they saw you now, hm?"
secretbf!beomgyu knows all your sweet spots, relentlessly working his thick, heavy length against them, rendering you brainless, his name right on the tip of your tongue when he gets you to cum, spasming wildly around him
secretbf!beomgyu cums inside of you, claiming you – tempted to fuck his release back into you with every rhythmic pulse of your cunt
secretbf!beomgyu who loves watching his cum dribble out of you when he pulls out, keeping wipes in your cabinets to clean it all up
secretbf!beomgyu who's always holding back from sliding two long fingers up your slit and into your pussy, solely to push his cum back into you – tempted to work you until you finish and squirt it all out, ruining his pristine suit. no, he always reminds himself, he'll just have to save that for when the two of you are at home
secretbf!beomgyu who only chuckles when you gawk at the mess that is your desk, grinning smugly as you scramble about to tidy up, the slightest limp in your step
secretbf!beomgyu who unknowingly confirms every dating rumor when he steps out of your office without his–
"glasses! i forgot my glasses in your office!"
devil. he just came back for seconds after spotting hueningkai in the hallway, his sly smirk betraying his true intentions – and you pray, just like every other day, that the two of you are able to finish before the time ticks for lunch to be over – even if you know beomgyu's going to continue what he started the second the two of you get home
how can you resist? you just hope no one in office catches on – after all, you don't think they know
.ᐟ.ᐟ extra .ᐟ.ᐟ
bf!beomgyu who fucks you as hard, loud and long as he's been craving to at home. he holds nothing back when it's just the two of you – all the pent up, suppressed desire searing to the surface
bf!beomgyu who, when you're all cleaned up and your eyes become droopy, kisses you goodnight sweetly – whispering affirmations of adoration and devotion to you, the deep timbre of his voice lulling you to sleep
bf!beomgyu who falls asleep with a smile on his face, subconsciously matching the one on yours – dreaming about finally putting the ring he's kept hidden, on your finger
scz note: i had to make it fluffy at the end! ah! hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! don't be shy to comment or reblog! <3
to the sweet anon who shared their idea with me, i hope i did your ask justice! x
synopsis: Decelis Diaries follows the stories of a friendgroup that consists of four popular, attractive men. Each of them comes from elite and wealthy backgrounds. Behind perfect grades, luxury uniforms and polished reptuations are simply boys learning how to fall in love, break apart and find comfort in their destined one.
from author: i don't know how long it'll take me to work on this series and i can only pray i have enough motivation and time to work on four fics... please do not rush me to post them as i have a life outside of tumblr. do comment/send an ask if you wish to be tag when the fics are out. no age = no tag.
﹕﹒★﹒ SCHOLARSHIP HEART. 심재윤
synopsis: When your scholarship at Decelis Academy was at risk, your already slipping grade only made things worse. Desperate to hold onto everything you've worked hard for, you're assigned to a tutor—Sim Jaeyun. However, in exchange for saving your scholarship, you have to be his fake girlfriend, to please his parents. You agreed and the longer you pretend, the harder it becomes to ignore what is real and what is fake.
pairing: sim jaeyun x fem! reader.
content: classmates to lovers, fake dating, rich kids academy au, family issues, hurt with comfort, explicit mature content, semi-public sex, misunderstandings, financial differences, rich people problems and more to be added.
word count: tba.
﹕﹒★﹒ COURTSIDE CONFESSIONS. 이희승
synopsis: Lee Heeseung is known for being the captain of the basketball team of Decelis Academy, for his talent and how he can go pro if he truly wished to. Until he wasn't. Until a devastating injury took his dream away. Haunted by the constant pressure to remain perfect, Heeseung struggled to accept the vision of himself left behind after the accident. But when you began staying beside him through silent gyms, painful recovery sessions and nights that feel lonely, he learns that healing is not the same as winning.
pairing: lee heeseung x fem! reader.
content: strangers to lovers, fluff, angst with comfort, family issues, mentions of injuries, explicit mature content and more to be added.
word count: tba.
﹕﹒★﹒ MIDNIGHT REHEARSALS. 박종성
synopsis: As Decelis's Academy talented guitarist, Park Jongseong spends his nights composing songs he never intend to share, trapped between his family's expectationsand the future he secrely wants for himself. But when he's forcefully paired with someone who's able to see through his facade, Jay found himself caught between fear and longing.
pairing: park jongseong x fem! reader.
content: rivals to lovers, unresolved and resolved sexual tension, family issues, angst with comort, explicit mature content and more to be added.
word count: tba.
﹕﹒★﹒ WINTER BOY. 박성훈
synopsis: To the world, Park Sunghoon is flawless, known as Seoul's beloved Olympic figure skater, admired for his elegance and perfection on the ice. But beneath the medals and camera flashes, is a boy exhausted by loneliness, pressure and the constant fear of disappointing everyone around him. When someone entered his carefully controlled life out of nowhere, Sunghoon starts experiencing warmth in places that once felt painfully cold.
pairing: park sunghoon x fem! reader.
content: classmates to lovers, mentions of press, family issues, angst with comort, explicit mature content and more to be added.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Your older brother, Beomgyu, was recruited by BigHitEnt, which means him making new trainee friends and bringing them home. It wouldn't be surprising if one of them is your type. Stealing glances at him from your room while they're playing video games or when you are forced to tag along cause "you'll feel left out". Later on, you were recruited by a different company, PLEDIS. Now being busier and away from home more often, you forgot about your little crush— until HYBE acquired the company you're under, being closer to him as ever.
JUST IN ! Soloist, Choi Y/N being the next new co-host for the upcoming music show a long side Tomorrow x Together's Kang Taehyun!
pairing kang taehyun x choi Y/N
╰┈➤ smau + written parts, idol au, fluff, angst
warnings swearing, sexual jokes, smut (?), jealousy, toxic (will be added more if needed)
status ongoing
links main masterlist
taglist open!
notes haha.. kind of nervous guys.. this is like my first time writing again after a long time~~ please bare with me as im not a very experienced writer.. i still do hope yall will like it! there will be some ooc moments and that i will probably have an inconsistent schedule posting as i am a college student (つд⊂)
dilf 최연준 𝓍 fem reader ˖ ꯭𓂋 smut, sugar relationship, vacation ༢ pretty heavy on the age gap, 16 year gap, dilf yeonjun, smut, size diff kink, spit, choking, brat taming, he gets off on spoiling, he also gets off on scent and perfume, fingering and mirror sex, dirty talk, lots of pet names, he’s 36, a bit of jealousy from both, a trip to hawaii, (barely) underage drinking, happy trail mention, unprotected sex, reader rlly is spoiled, financial domination
ash⦂ i rlly just have been in a dilf kick in my soul lately so i hope everybody’s on the same page or else that would be reaaaaal awkward… anyway, this is so fun and tropical and i hope everyone is ready for some summer!! this is a leftover from last year’s summer event so thankfully it’s with us finally >_<
Choi Yeonjun is a man. In a broad pair of shoulders, the sharp coffee and black pepper that clings to his skin that lingers in the warm pulse points when you press your face into them, and how he keeps himself put together in clothes without the wrinkles of a twice-worn thing off the carpet like the guys your age, who you could ask if they do exactly that and they would shrug and tell you that they did. Not Yeonjun. None of that was what truly set him apart, nor the things that put that stamp of ratified man on his integrity.
That was in the opening doors for you. He insists on it. He doesn't want your hands on any car door handles, only wants to hear the click of the heels bought on his dime hitting the ground when you step out after him. And he wasn't afraid to tell you it, either. It was in how he took the burden of ordering for you at the diners he took you, with the warm crystal lights that hung low over your table as he'd thumb the back of your hand. In how that card of his was yours, too.
You were sitting in bed after a thorough, all brand new, skincare routine, when he proposed the flight to Hawaii. A face mask seeped into your skin as you gawked into the glow of the screen. If he had only see your face. He tells you it's the best part.
11:00pm [Yeonjun]: We have a suite booked in O'ahu for this weekend. Do you need anything for it, baby?
11:00pm [Yeonjun]: Pack light, you'll be coming home with more than you came.
11:01pm [Yeonjun]: How does that sound?
It was that part that made your stomach twist up like it was in there jump-roping. It always is the way he talks to you; because, what kind of question is that? He knew exactly how it sounded. His texting mannerisms scream older, succinct with an air of a man who knows exactly how off-guard this all still leaves you. He is so cruel, in the most savory way. It has long since been decided that men age like wine. They sit on a shelf and mature, until they're more rich and deep. Or at least until they've had their fun, their money, and are left with an itch to funnel it all into making something bloom pretty at his attention and spoiling.
Honolulu is so much alike the post cards, and in the same vein, so much different. It's a bustling metropolis with buildings that scrape the turquoise sky. The beach is within walking distance from your hotel, and that is just as peppered with tourists in cover-ups they probably bought right from the ABC store along the strip.
"Waikiki looks nothing like I thought it did," you say. A piña colada daiquiri sweats in your hand under the thick sun. It's hot here. Not like the bone dry heat of summer back at home, but instead it's thick on your skin like a layer of salt off the breeze. You fiddle with the tropical ribbons of your bikini bottoms at the swell of your hip. Lazy and pampered, and nobody could deny it. You wouldn't.
With his arms tucked behind his head on a tanning chair adjacent to yours, he grins. "What did you think it was?" He runs his finger around the rim of his own drink. He'd made you sip off it and found the wrinkle of your nose at the burn humorous.
Not full on city with the same beeping cars and traffic as home, perhaps. Your shoulders have long since turned pink. Your cheeks, a radiant burn to match. It tugs every time your face moves like the skin's just a bit too tight. "Like… When you think of Hawaii, the first thing you think of. That." It's about time you roast your other side. Or else you'll be glowing red on your front and springtime pale at the back. The cheeky bottoms of your bikini's ridden up with all your lounging, the soft spot where your ass meets thigh turned up this way around. Yeonjun doesn't look away when you catch him getting an eyeful. "That guy didn't even ID me." The spot where your nose presses to your pillow of crossed arms smells like sweat and coconutty sunscreen.
"He's not gonna ask you while I'm there," Yeonjun says. He holds one hand up like a visor over his eyes, looking at you under it. The shirt he'd changed into as soon as you hit the room There's a healthy glow set deep in his skin that leads you to suspect that, even if this is the first time he's taken you on a pretty penny vacation, it's not his first. It's a deep, bronze that speaks of a tan that's built on. You're not his first sugar baby. That's something you've come to terms with. It gets a little easier with a swipe of the card.
"Why…?"
Thumbing the crease of your bottom, he supplies his answer with a hum. "It's his job to sell it. This whole city loves a dollar bill." Lifting his own glass, he adds, "And that kid's not trying to offend me by asking."
That kid. A guy somewhere near your age, give or take. It's always those little things that send a furious, brilliant storm of butterflies through your belly. The little ways he reminds you exactly what he is. They never come in grand gestures. More in the way he just moves through the world, and how it bends around his shape to meet him. He didn't ask the associates in the luxury stores he takes you shopping in to perk up and run to serve him, knowing he'll buy. They just do it.
A handful of girls three rows down laugh with one another over the holistic sound of the resort pools. Lifeguards, kids here on vacation with parents glad they're cannon-balling into the pools and bothering the group of twenty-somethings with palms over the mouth of their tumbler glasses to save themselves the misery of discovering how teal, chlorine water mixed with margarita. Sweat has glued your cheek to where it squishes against your upper arm. You keep your head oriented to watch him. "But can't they get in trouble for that?" Talking comes difficult. The heat makes you too lazy. You can hardly even summon the words.
Smiling at that, he answers, "If they get caught, yeah." The muscles dormant in his biceps ripple as he crosses his arms about his chest. He didn't hit the gym; not that you knew of. But he maintains that like he does. Another thing that seems to just come with the whole matured, better, older man package.
That felt topically ironic. Especially considering that you never do intend to be caught. You dread the thought so hard that you've learned to banish it the moment it springs up. It's easier this way. And way more fun. It's not like you never thought about it; toeing the line in the sand without ever really letting the tide rush in on you. "This stuff is so sweet. Should I have another one?"
That gets a kick out of him. "Yeah? You like it?" Yeonjun says. There's a languor dripping off the way he does, sticky like the air. "That's because it's rum, babygirl. All sugar."
Your throat goes all tight. Fumbling after words, you quickly say, "It taste like a smoothie."
"That's why you don't need another one." He laughs. "It hits you faster than you think it will. Especially with the heat." Then, picking up the drink, he drinks down what you hadn't gotten to you. Those expressive brows twist. "Shit, that's sweet."
You only smile and watch him cross his arms back. They look fit to throw you any which way, or even to carry all the bags he would snatch from you before you even got to try and carry yourself. "Okay, it's not that sweet."
Not in any hurry, never in any hurry, he gets that look on his face that you've come to know to mean that he's guiding the conversation a different way. He corrals you so easily that you tend to not even notice that you're on the next topic. He takes control of any conversation with such ease. On your first date, you had been a shaking, shy thing sat across from him. It didn't matter much. With a little steering you and a handsome smile as he listened to you answer his questions, the burden of even carrying conversations was off your shoulders. That was his job, he'd told you later on when you told him how terrified you were.
"I was thinking about heading back to the suite," he starts. The sharp lines of his eyes linger on you like he's plotting it all out in real time, and there's a prospective smoothness to his voice. As if he'd already playing it all out in his head, and he knows exactly what he has in store for you. "Getting dressed. No need to rush, we have all night. We're here to enjoy ourselves. And then head down to the beach walk, shop around, get you some things to try on for me." He doesn't even smirk. Nothing to justify the way your stomach swoops quick. "And I put a reservation in at this nice, low-key grill for us after. If we need to come back real quick to drop off your stuff, we can." Taking one last drink off his glass, he says, "Sound good, baby?"
Sound good? How could you have any objections? You blink at him for a moment. Up until yesterday, you'd never even flown overseas. Vacations meant twelve hour drives and scrapping with your siblings and the blankets and luggage for space in the car, just to end up squished against the door anyway. You were half lead to believe that things like this happened only on T.V. or for faceless people in a tax bracket you knew you'd never touch. And yet…
"What? Do you have something else in mind?" His lips do quirk now, perhaps because he knows exactly what. "We can do whatever your sweet heart wants. No need to be shy with me. We're here for you. Me and Hawaii are good friends."
You rush to correct yourself. "No, that's, like, perfect." Pressing up to your elbows, still baking your backside, you say, "I've just never done this before."
He's heard that before, that first time you were intimate with him. You never imagined your first to be a man with sixteen years on you, who was not your boyfriend but instead something suspended in an awkward space between that and something else. Something that makes your blood rise to your ears and lie to everybody you know. A year ago, two, you would've turned your nose up at another girl for sitting in Hawaii on a man's money. After all, down to its core, it's only a trade, isn't it? The sugar in sugar daddy is the tan in your skin and the necklace at your throat studded, in the shape of a 'Y', in true diamonds. And in sugar baby, it was something much more coveted. Well, you couldn't sneer at yourself now; couldn't have known that it could come like him, and not in a sixty year old man who had to pay for sex because he wouldn't get it otherwise.
"Good." He leans back into his low pool chair, the perfect image of the leisure that is company to what he is. But he's got an airy, soft thing going on with his mouth as the sun rushes back over it. "Maybe we'll go out on a boat tomorrow, too."
He doesn't even have to ask to know the answer.
When Yeonjun means get whatever you want, he means that. Not metaphorically. Not loosely, not a ceiling that you might accidentally brush if you got overeager. There wasn't a budget. Not on you. You have your questions concerning where, exactly, he might have all this money. His Seeking profile didn't even tell. And when you asked, he kissed you and said, "I'm old enough to know that you don't really care about my job. You'd get bored to hell of it eventually. So let's not open that door anyway."
Whatever that meant. You gleaned enough from the dress shirts and ironed slacks that it wasn't anything too mystifying. It was, maybe, a bit overdramatic in the way he said it. Or maybe it was your own head that did the work of imagining some big secret.
Bushes with a deep, waxy green up against pink and white Plumerias with yellow blooming at their centers, stand opposite to the glowing warm storefronts which stud the sidewalk. Your hotel is right in the heart of it all. You step out, and you're right there in downtown Honolulu. Clearly, you two had the same idea as everybody else did. It must be the season back home. The streets are packed. Groups of girls walk with their elbows linked with Leis around their necks, probably coming from a restaurant where they were handed out, couples with kids and couples here hoping to get away from theirs, they all have the same essence about them as you feel in your chest. You feel like you're just gawking at stupid things with stars in your eyes like you've never seen a bush, or a lit-up tourist trap. But how did you even get here? Here, where something sweet hangs and makes the air even heaver. Maybe those flowers. Or the street vendors boasting cups of million-dollar pineapple chunks with the rinds still on and passion fruit stuffed in with papayas, and the way it overlaps with the salt from the water. The shoreline is close enough from here than you can watch the black water rush up and disturb the sand.
"You look beautiful," Yeonjun had told you when you stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't need any flowery enhancers to sound like he meant it. He told you in the simplicity that he was unafraid to use, and even more potently, in the lingering inventory he takes of the dress. His hands had flexed where they were shoved into his pockets in patiently waiting. Because he know more than any man, maybe, that patience paid sweeter. He didn't just enjoy the silhouette the sundress made, though you know he definitely did enjoy that. You're still suffering the echoes in your knees that the smolder in his eyes had made shake. But he made sure to enjoy the golden bangles that made feminine, sparkling sounds as you slipped into your heels. How they complimented the sunset pinks and oranges of the tropical floral fabric, and made the sanguine flush to your cheeks speak.
He had stopped, especially, at your neck. Traced the shape of that 'Y' as it glittered. And if anybody were to ask, you were certain that his throat had bobbed.
Now, he keeps one steady hand at your back and the other in his pants. He is an impossibly handsome man, in the most literal sense of the word. But night makes him something else. It cuts the lines of his face which had an angle to them that you could only attribute to aging. His eyes were slow and pleased and all over you and the view your push-up bra makes. "Do you want one?" he asks when your eyes linger on a stand selling Hibiscus flowers. The ones the grew well and didn't get too beat up by the elements, which tourists like to pluck off the bush anyway.
"I mean… They're, like, fifteen dollars." That was a good meal's worth, as far as you were concerned. You could go without. "That's crazy. People just pick them anyway."
"Fifteen dollars to look beautiful on you," he says, "is nothing. Do you know how expensive you look right now, sweetheart?" Passing the person running the stand a bill, he takes your chin with his thumb and tucks a yellow one behind your ear. It's huge, flirting with your eyes and brushing against your temples. Approval flashes over his gaze. "There we go. Now you look like you're in Hawaii."
God. Nothing about that should make your head go so dumb.
You make your way down the street doing pretty much the same. You dip in and out of stores, racking up bags in his free hand. He has no complaints to give. It's something chemical to him. Like foreplay, watching your eyes light up and your mouth go shy with every yes. Yes, yes, yes. That's his favorite word.
Of course you drag him into Sephora. The black-and-white storefront pulls you in with gravity amidst the high-end stores and the shops with the shot glasses and tees plastered with Waikiki beach regalia. He lets you browse and drop things into the shopping basket. You giggle when you catch sight of him, there in his fine muslin button down pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out with the strain, classy sunglasses pushing his hair off his forehead, balancing the damage you'd already done in one hand and the carnage that will ensue at checkout here in the other. With a playing smile on his face, he says, "Don't you want to do something you can't do at home?"
"I can't shop at Sephora in Hawaii at home." You take your lip into your teeth to fight a coquettish grin. A toasty lip liner lands in the cart with a plastic sound of the packaging. "I'm like a thousand percent sure they have stuff here that we just don't have at home." The one by your place is half the size, and even less stocked. You'd probably had a hand in that.
"You've gotten spoiled," Yeonjun says, and you think it sounds like lust. "I've made you into a little money monster. You used to be so shy."
You gasp with affront, coloring your words precisely spoiled. "Me? Not even close. You have to beg me to spend money on myself!" You did, in fact, used to be much more shy with him. It took a few dates to be able to look him in the eyes. It's that contrast between you that is so intoxicating. How you get all dressed up in girly outfits and ramble at him, and he has the answers for it all.
He nudges you around and aisle into the next. The cart is slowly filling up. When he had said you'd be leaving with more than you came, he'd meant it. "I do," he rasps. "I've never taken another girl somewhere who loved shopping more. You're a blushing, pretty hole in my wallet."
A throaty imitation of a laugh if all you can muster in response to that. It's not like you didn't know he had other sugar babies before yourself. Had probably taken them to Hawaii, too. The thought spirals out of control before you can stamp it out. Brushing the buttery petals of the flower at your ear, you consider if he's done exactly this, all of it, with another girl, too. He has the means to. And then you get to thinking what he could've done with those girls. Did he tell them how pretty they sounded like he loved so much to tell you? "You're mean," you say, empty banter. "I'm go back in the bowl and find a sugar daddy that doesn't bully me."
The harsh overhead lights cut his features and catch the way his jaw ticks. "Is that it?" His eyes flicker down the the basket you're filling. You don't know if it's pointed or him doing the math. "They couldn't afford you."
The next step you take is a bit more wobbly, a knot pulling tight deep in your belly and making your coordination all loose. He watches watches you flounder. Realistically, you are very aware you are outmatched. It doesn't stop you doubling down. Your low heels click against the tile floors as you shuffle toward a perfume display. Heavy glass with powdery vanillas and sharp, full black pepper and night blooming jasmine, you are a self-fulfilling prophecy and gravitate toward only the luxe stuff. Maybe that's what ruffles you. That he's right. You take a greenish bottle and spritz it into the sensitive insides of your wrists.
"How about this one?" you say, prim, and offer it up to him. "Is it pretty…?"
Taking the offer up, his nose feathers against the skin. You suppress the thrill it gives you. A moment, a beat in the air exists in intimate tranquility, before you what you're about to say. He looks up at you through his brows as the scent profile hits him. Creamy banana leaf and flirty, fruity coconut that embodied everything that you were right now. His eyes drop to your mouth only long enough for you to see that he does it. "Buy it." He surrenders to one more drag of how it melts into the heat of your skin before straightening back up. You only ever remember that you have to look up at him when he does that. "I want you to wear that when we meet."
You've always known Yeonjun was more attuned to scents than other men. It was often the first thing he'd bring up when he entered a space, but it was also something he'd whisper into your ears, voice scraping, while he was behind you. So you know what you're doing when you pout your mouth and say, "Do you think the new sugar daddy will like it, too? Should I wear it for him?"
Whatever you thought he'd do, he doesn't. A scoff, or maybe a brisk, annoyed dismissal, you'd expected. Or maybe even he'd say something. But Yeonjun just pauses. Goes blank, with no playful retort to volley back. All you know is that his dark eyes, which had been so content on an indulgent walk down downtown and a nice dinner after, go severe. Darker with no trick of the light.
He only says, "Right."
That leaves you with nothing to say. You cap the tester bottle and take a real box of the perfume. Because now, you might really need that in your favor if the way he had been drinking it down was anything to go off of. Maybe it'll soften him. Your little makeup and perfume detour ends with a whimper, not a bang, as you stand beside him in line and then watch him pull out that wallet despite it. Two bags sit on the counter waiting for you to reclaim them. Full bags. But when he thumbs his credit card and runs it, a sleek, black, metal thing with weight that speaks for itself, it goes through with a ding. You toy with the frills of your little dress to expel the mortification somewhere, or even anywhere, that isn't a rambunctious ball in your chest. You open your mouth to smooth things over a few times, but decide against it. You can't claim to have not know that it would bother him, but it's too late for that.
A weird thrill shoots down your spine at the view. His shoulders rigid and sharp from the back, holding all the things in his head right now that you can only guess at.
The final act takes place in a shop, with him leaned up against a wall that separates the changing rooms from the rest of the place into its own little dim hallway. Obnoxious lights oppress the clothing racks and shoppers from a high, warehouse-like ceiling. A pop station closes in from a speaker in the corner of your dressing room. The clothes you'd rummaged through racks for hang on a gold hook on the wall, waiting for you to stop holding your breath. Even when you finally make yourself move to drop your clothes on the glossy floor below, you're elsewhere. The way his faced dropped? Not just that, but the fact that it wasn't even anger. You don't know what it was; maybe something new that the two of you had created yourselves, or something unique to the reality of what you were to each other.
Yeonjun's knock against the door pauses you. You can almost see it, how he'd rap the backside of his knuckles, head down. His mannerisms are so vivid and branded into your psyche that you could step out right now and you're certain that it's exactly how you'd find him. "Need help?"
The center of your shoulder blades burn because you'd been contorting yourself for the past few minutes to reach the strings behind you. You take your lip into your teeth and take a look of yourself in the mirror. You look expensive. You look like all the things that Choi Yeonjun touches: taken care of. "Uhhh." A part of you wants to deny him. To play the cards that you hold in this long game. He never fails to remind you how much power you hold over him and this arrangement. Why not test the boundaries? But you know what would be sweeter than that. Wordlessly, you pull the latch with a loudness that all dressing room locks seem to have.
Then there he is. His arms are crossed, the muscles there loose but still something that you have to take your mind off, or else you might start to think how they would feel under your teeth. You rove over the slanted height of him and how he still looks tall, even when he leans his head and shoulder into the frame. His eyes rove over you, too. Not a flicker. Not a quick assessment. No. God, no. Not with him.
The latch snaps shut behind him with a barely-there gesture. Your whole stomach drops to the floor and shatters.
It's a little showy. You'll give him that. And maybe you'll also admit that you grabbed this exact dress for this exact reason. A corner of your lip wants to twitch with satisfaction, but you have a plan to see through, and it starts and ends with him groveling for you. What a sight that would be. Even just imagining it and turning the imagery of it in your head, when he's the reason you can even live this life that you do, makes you a rapt little tease. Boys your age can't do this. They couldn't be him if they tried. You're beginning to think that he was a different species of man completely.
A beat passes, and then he runs the pads of his fingertips along the hem of your dress. It ends so, so dangerously; right about where your ass folds over at the sanguine softness of your thighs. The skittering brush of contact is straight electricity, and it's the littlest touch. His eyes meet yours through the mirror. Dark. Smoldering like pure wood smoke, erupting slow like the mountains on these islands that move slow enough to watch their molten greed come, but know that you can do nothing to stop it. It's no fair how he looks at you. Your knees go just completely useless.
Yeonjun completely disregards even pretending he was going to lace that skimpy back up for you. You swallow cotton. "Is it cute?" you ask, because you have a pretty good idea of what the answer is already.
The breathy gasp when he takes the soft fat of your hips into his hands with a greed that says he'd been thinking about them since you walked into this store and while he waited patiently on the other side of the door for this. Or before even that. He tugs your bottom to the front of his jeans and says, with his voice smooth like the scotch he sips, "Of course it's beautiful, baby. Do you want it?"
"Yes," you choke out around a thick knot of anticipation. Your own face meets you, palms braced on either side of the ornate gold mirror and your reflection giving you a show of how ditzy and pathetic he makes you. "But I don't know if I should." The syllables waver toward the end and belie your coquettish act.
He laughs like a scoff while he pushes the skirt of the dress up the swell of your hips, then past it until he can devour the bend of your arch. He taught you that form. And it looks like he has no notes on your technique, either. The pressure of him testing it makes your head go dumb. "When have I ever told you no?" he rasps. "You have no idea how expensive you are, baby. No idea. Your little shopping trip would've maxed out any other man's card."
There. That's the spot. You pout your mouth at him and catch him eating it up in his reflection. "I'm expensive? Am I too expensive for you, then?"
Of course not. Look at you. Look at where you are. His card is yours and you think that it's near bottomless at this point. You don't even have to ask. Yeonjun's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.
Your panties hit the floor in one tug. The walls of the changing room become infinitely smaller as he wraps your hair up in his fist. The ache in your scalp brings a prickle to your eyes. "Is that what you think?" he says, that polished quality wipes completely raw. He tries to sound like he's not losing his mind, but it's there if you look past the lilt. "Do I need to buy you the island? The world?" It sounds like he would. Like he will. Instead of reaching for himself, he tests between your thighs for what he knows he'll find there, because of course you're soaked. You've been soaked since Sephora.
"Uh-huh," you say, because he's flicking your clit in little tests and every time he hits the sensitive underside of it, the nerves there send your heels clattering on the marble and your legs trying to find purchase. And because, what's dignity with a man sixteen years older than you who puts money in your bank account and fucks you in high-end boutique dressing rooms?
He likes that. But he doesn't give you anything real, doesn't reward the behavior you've been prancing around him with. His palm wraps around your waist to press into your belly and steady your scrambling legs like it goes without saying. The way his fingers stretch over the soft, doughy place there, how it eats up the expanse of your waist, makes you swallow hard. "God help the next kid that gets you. What's he gonna do with you? How are you gonna manage pizzeria dates and a one-bedroom apartment when you know what you have? What I've given you?"
You can't answer. His fingers curl into you, and he wastes no time finding the spot that he knows like muscle memory. The delicate anatomy of a woman's sweet spot seems like something that just came with the package of him. He doesn't have to search, and he probably never did. Sparks explode behind your eyelids like the fireworks they had been setting off on the beach in brilliant golds and teals. If he hadn't steadied you with the strength of his palm, you'd probably be crumpling down to the floor right about now.
"Hmm?" You can hear the condescending purr on his mouth, because you don't have the strength to pry your eyes open to see it.
You mewl a sorry imitation for the word, "Yes," and go back to trying to wiggle your ass into the incessant curling of his fingers. The sounds of him fingering you makes your ears and chest flush, each inappropriate, sloppy wet noise proving how easy you are for him. "Right—right there, please." Your head drops as the first word breaks in the air. It's really a sorry excuse for words.
He listens so well. The angle of his two middle fingers, the width of them just enough to make you crazy and the finesse of how he uses them like weapons even worse so, twitches just up. It's as though he feels it himself somewhere inside of you that he's found it, because he finds it and you know you're royally fucked from that moment on. "Good," he says. "That way I know I get to keep you. Because you'll go and you'll try other men,"—his forearm strains with how he forgets the soreness in it to fuck you on his fingers right—"and you'll be right back here. In my bed. On my money. My spoiled little mess."
The thought that maybe, beyond the pleasure he gets out of knowing he could give you anything, buy you anything, dressing you up in him, he likes you this way because it means nothing else would ever fill the spot he carved doesn't occur to you. Currently because your thighs spasm and shake and it takes every working synapse in your brain firing off to digest how he fucks you so good that it's a leash in and of itself. Hopefully you'll be here when he starts going salt and pepper, because what would sex be if not this?
Your choked, scraped whimpers get too loud for him. His palm over your mouth finally has your eyes fluttering open, and the sight that greets you back is potent enough to send the same molasses through your veins as the heel of his palm grinding down on your swollen clit. "Shh, baby." He grinds harder, because he's mean. "So goddamn whiny. What a princess you are; can't take what you were begging for all night. Why act up if you're gonna tell the whole store how I'm being mean to you?"
He gets your answer in a gone, strangled sob against his palm. Your own damp breaths where it seals over your mouth makes the air thinner. Each roll of his palm forward is met with a helpless push of your ass back on him. His wrist is practically pinned between the bulge in his jeans, because of course he's affected even if he'd like to pretend otherwise, and your bottom. It doesn't stop him one bit. The private sounds that his silencing makes is better than any reckless moaning. It's almost dirtier, almost wronger.
"Gonna cum?" he rasps, watching the trashy mess your face makes in the mirror like a god exacting justice. The weeping mascara lines pooling where his hand meets your face and the drooping eyes that want to roll back into your skull, the high pink of your cheeks and how he can watch himself give you this like he give you everything fucking else. You were close, but just the question winds you up tight enough to snap. That face of his goes patronizing with a furrow of his brows. Slick rolls in hot rivulets down the insides of your trembling thighs. "That's right. There we go. You need to grind that pussy on my hand? Grind it. Go ahead and see if I'm gonna give you what you're asking for."
You try to say something. You really do. To tell him that you'll do anything for it, that he's melting your brain like butter, or god, just anything. The backs of your eyes and your throat and the pit of your stomach all prickle and go tight at once. He probably hears something unflattering come out from behind his palm, something strangled and a fie on the decorum that a place like this deserves. That mirror that you'd been depending on to keep you at least somewhat planted where he's had you bent in half goes clattering against the wall behind it because you're grasping at it like it can help you.
He stops. Just completely, unfairly, cruelly stops. His fingers come out of you a mess and you have to pretend they weren't just in you as he straightens up, swipes a thumb through your blackened cheeks, and then he doesn't touch you again. You're left gaping at yourself in the mirror and wondering with a naked dissonance, like when something heavy hits metal and leaves it ringing, what the hell you're supposed to do with the knot in your lower belly now. You almost think to just rub one out after he steps out.
Tugging his collar looser around his throat, he works his jaw and lets you change back. It all feels too tight; the frills and the way you clatter uselessly out when you've finished and the neglected pangs of throbbing, so hard that you can feel the pounding of your heartbeat all the way up in your ears. You avoid eye contact when he pays for the dress up at the register. If the flushed face and the smearing of mascara that would give you away no matter how hard you tried to wipe at your cheeks and jaw didn't give you away, maybe the buzzing in your eyes would. He makes small talk with her and takes the bag and receipt as if he wasn't just knuckle deep in you. It's the antithesis of all things fair. You have to breathe with intention as he leads the way back out onto the streets. The air is thick and salty enough to swim through. It's no help up against clammy, salty skin itself. The only thing that keeps you kinda grounded as you stumble by his shoulder, because even now he's steepled your fingers together, is the sweet scent of the palm leaves touching the sky above you. Otherwise you're swimming through the honking and the weaving between bodies and the pulse of what he did to you.
You want to dig your heels in and demand he wraps his fingers around your throat and fix it. Or make a scene so big he has to. But you just blink dumbly the whole way back to the room, because you are nowhere near as gutsy as that, and half as coherent at the moment.
The door clicks closed behind you again in a pantomime of that stuffy, unreal scene you just left behind. You kick your heels off and wait. Wait to see what he does, to see if he'll pounce on you the way you ran over a generous hundred times on the way here. Yeonjun just steps out of his own shoes, drops the new dress off on a seat, and works his watch off by the night stand. The lamp there, a low warm ambience, lights the angles of him. The way his shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how he tapers out to something thin at the waist that lingers in your mind after you fuck—how the stretch below his navel and the dusting of hair there gives way to the V, and how that gives way to his cock. When you first had seen it, he didn't even laugh, though he could've. You'd just stared like you were torn between running away from it and testing if it was as hard and warm as it looked. No; he held your face as he told you that it was okay, that he wanted you to become so familiar with it that you could feel the exact shape and curve of it in your haziest dreams. You press your thighs together as you struggle with the strap of your heel.
A metallic sound works, and then he sets the silver-faced watch down. Then his eyes finally, for the first time since he stepped into that dressing room, meet yours. Not through any mirrors. The weight of that is entirely different.
"Bend over the bed," he says. "C'mon, baby girl. I've been going insane over this all day."
The hinges of your jaw ache. "Why?" You're stumbling over to do just that, because you're more talk than you are brazen. "So you can just stop again? I have fingers, you know. I don't need you."
And then his belt makes a noise that tells you he intends to see it through this time. Your stomach does three full flips, ass in the air like the obedient lap dog that you'd be for him a hundred times over. Because if he groomed you and petted you and you were his one, favorite girl for it? What else could you possibly need?
"Huh." The belt comes loose in a rasp, somewhere behind you now. He'd circled the bed completely. "I could. We could sit here and do that all night, if we wanted. But where would be the fun in that?" he says, and then he bends over your back and speaks into the shell of your ear, "I have about a thousand other, more creative things I'm gonna do to you, sweetheart. And trust me; I've had a lot of time to think them."
The shudder he tears from you is so visceral, it's like he'd wrapped a hand around your throat. You choke your swallow down dry and say, "Please do it, do whatever you want. I can take it."
He presses a wet, biting kiss into that spot where your pulse meets jawline. And then another that lingers against the back of your shoulder, and then he kisses his way down and straightens back up to make a mess of your outfit all over again. "I know you can," he rasps, his own voice scraped down to something needy that reflects exactly what's burning between your legs right now. You can't tell if it should feel like a good thing, but it just raises a chill on your skin. Because if the same blistering things that's inside you is inside of him right now, then you don't know what you've signed yourself up for.
"You're still on the pill?" he says, and then when you hesitate to answer he takes a handful of ass. "Sweetheart. Please."
You nod. He takes that and forgets the condom in his wallet to let a line of spit fall down over your cunt from the back. As if you weren't wet enough. You don't know if you've ever been so slick in your life, so wiggly that you whine at him to, "Hurrrrry." The glob lands at the top of yout slit and follows gravity to your clit, and he goes quiet to watch it find its place on you. He takes his proud length and strokes it once or twice to feel it twitch, to give himself a pathetic teaser for what was to come.
Then he's pounding into you until stars shoot behind your eyelids, until you're making noises that would embarrass you if they were ever caught on tape. The come from your throat, and they practically stay there, bouncing with each collision of his groin against your ass and the backs of your thighs. You eat straight comforter as he braces one arm beside your hips to cant his hips up, right into the place he had fun with teasing earlier. It's probably pretty obvious to the poor neighbors what the grinding of the headboard against the wall might be, but you're too busy getting your brains fucked away to be a considerate neighbor.
"Mfh!" you tell the bedsheets. The laugh that he pants into your shoulder blades is pure, undiluted dirtiness and heat.
"So mouthy," he croons, though he's no better off than you. Each time you flutter tight around him, his fingers dig deeper divots into your hip. "And so pretty when you're split on my cock and can't talk. Isn't that right, baby?" He bends completely over your back, and you're forced to remember through the scattered thoughts of how he looked behind you in that mirror. His body ate yours up. It didn't matter if you were taller, if you were any other way. He'd make you look tiny anyway, just like how his fingers stretch over the small of your back and how he handles you with it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna hear that mouth go."
Breathing is a thing of the past. You shove your face to one side so at least you aren't suffocating in the sheets, face such a mess that you can feel it more than the twist of your brows and the pout on your mouth. Sweat beads at your temples and hair sticks there over your flaming cheeks. "Choke me, choke me," you say. It's the dumbified words of somebody who has about five words in their current arsenal and was using all their brain power for each. You choke and sob and bite whines into the air and meet every single one of his thrusts.
He's not gonna let you ask twice. The precision of his fingers is food for your brain, thinning your windpipe just enough to twist every nudge of his tip to your cervix into something more potent and overwhelming. Your nails bite into his wrist at your neck, skull digging back into his shoulder and hips being ground into the edge of the mattress every time he strokes with mindless, carnal rhythm. "Choke you?" he almost laughs, like his hand wasn't around your throat right now. "You're full of surprises, you know that? How's that for that sweet brain, baby girl? Huh?"
Your face twists up. "Uh—uh-huh!" You can't breathe, can't think, in the best way. Lips wobbling, you pant, "I like it!"
That has his hips coming down on you in a different way. He falls over your back and drags in the scent at your neck like he's huffing something stronger than the sweet scent of sex on your skin. But it does something electric to him. His abs tighten against your spine, grinding his cock into you like he could be any deeper than this. It feels like he's up in your stomach, you brain, dressing that up just like he does to the rest of you. "Fuck." His voice crumbles into tatters. "You smell so fucking good. Like candy." He kisses at the spot that you, even in this state, recall with a jerk to be where you had sprayed that perfume. It had melted into the warm pulse there, faded down into the base notes. The kiss isn't enough. He presses his tall nose right into it and grabs at you so hard that it aches. "I'm not gonna last long, baby. God, you're getting more of this stuff. I'll buy you more before we—" His wet forehead falls into the soft spot between your shoulders and where your nape begins, every rolling thrust like he's staving off an orgasm coming just from the olfactory sweetness of you.
You've long since raked red-hot lines down his taut forearm, but a particular tightening of his fingers at your throat and a wet slide that hits just the right spot without you having to ask sends you over like a house of cards. The arch in the very angle of your back bows back against him. The suite falls away, all of Hawaii and your agreement follows, until you're just a girl under a man who knows exactly how to play you. "I'm cumming!" you say, all but stumbling over the warning. "Help!"
You don't know what the hell you're saying, and he's off the deep end too. He throws you up the bed and digs his knees in to gain purchase and something in that scent he caught, in the thoughts that had been festering in his head all night, comes alive. He rails you right into the sheets and takes what he needs as you claw at the pillows and sheets through yours. Because with him, you're gonna cum first if he has to grit his teeth and pull out just to make sure he doesn't first.
"That's it," he growls. "That's my spoiled girl." Then his own hips stop and each stutter of them as he fucks it into you, each pant and breath into your shoulders and kiss to the back of your head, tells you that he's followed you down. As his weight smothers you into the pillows, grounding you and suffocating you until you can come down and breathe again, he makes your hair into a loose ponytail to reach the soft parts of your neck that the tangle of it hid.
His heartbeat at your back reverberates into your chest. Speaking into your face as he takes the softness of your cheeks and watches them squish under his fingers, he says, "How's that for leaving you wanting?" There's a lazy, pleased light in his eyes. What else could a man need, more than a pretty girl glowing with post-orgasmic bliss under him, in a bed he put her in, in a frilly, rumpled dress that only he could afford? Nothing. He was living the life that other men loathed him for. He nips the turn of your shoulder and says, "You were put on this Earth to test old bastards like me, huh?"
You can hardly give him an enthusiastic smile. Probably.
ash⦂ #needthat like i finished this in a haze at 4am before a shift so if that tells you anything about how i was feeling…
GENRE/CW: smut, angst, fluff, porn with plot, slow burn, multiple smut scenes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, car sex, mutual masturbation, spit kink, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, pda, messy feelings and bets, subtle mentions of jaywon. lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 30.9k words
SYNOPSIS: Jake is utterly oblivious to the fact that you are well aware how his sudden devotion to you is stemmed from nothing but a pathetic little bet. He is also unaware of the fact that you have been matching his energy, playing your part so convincingly that the line between performance and truth starts to blur, and you are not sure what is real anymore. OR, the classic bet trope twisted into bet inverse.
A/N: hihi loves <3 so i finally used my 2 year old idea and made it into a fic, it was soo fun to write and i could not have done it without doll (ily for sprinting w me always), i hope you guys enjoy it <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
CHAPTER ONE: Raised stakes.
If there was one word to describe Jake, it would be carefree.
Some deeper parts within him would care to disagree, however, he had perfected this art of burying them six feet under layers of easy smiles. At twenty-three, Jake was the hot Physics student pursuing Masters with a killer arm (or leg in this case) on the football field.
He had always been good at drowning out uneasiness with a bright grin, a well-timed joke that he somehow laughed at harder than the others, the easy way his hand would find the small of someone’s back as he guided them through a crowded party. It worked, it always worked.
Hardworking to a fault, he balanced brutal training sessions, demanding coursework, and still found time to be the social glue of every group he touched. Clumsy in the most endearing ways—tripping over his own feet during victory celebrations or spilling his coffee down his jersey—he’d just laugh it off, turning mishaps into stories.
So, in a word, Jake Sim was considered to be carefree by any living creature that had the slightest pleasure of meeting him.
And to put it simply, he enjoyed it. He basked in the attention thrown his way, not in a way that would label him as arrogant, it just came to him as easy as, well, breathing. All that effortless energy around him kept him sane, coming from a loving family, to having friends he could call his second family, he truly cherished it to the core.
Tonight the spring kickoff party in the quad thrummed under strings of warm fairy lights, the bass from the speakers mixing with the scent of grilled corn (to Jay’s absolute delight), spilled beer, and early cherry blossoms. Jake stood right at the center of it all, lean athletic build relaxed as he leaned against the brick pillar, red solo cup in hand, black hair falling in soft tousled waves. He ran his fingers through it absentmindedly while Heeseung gestured wildly mid-story, the group around him already cracking up at the enthusiasm of it all.
“—and then she just looks at me after the game, all flushed and smiling, and says you looked really good out there tonight. Next thing I know we’re back at her place and I’m thinking, damn, maybe I should score more goals if this is the reward,” Heeseung said, smile wide as he took a swig from his cup.
Jay laughed at that, “you’re too fucking easy,” he mumbled, taking a bite of corn, pairing it up with vodka right after.
Sunghoon leaned back against the pillar, smirking as he shook his head, “you two are hopeless, now let me tell you guys about what real pleasure is—”
“Spare us the details,” Jeno mumbled, a tad bit tipsy with the amount of booze he’d been consuming, Jaemin holding him up, but his mind was elsewhere, planning something rather crazy to wash out the usual mundane conversation.
Jake’s laugh rolled out bright, head tilting back and shoulders shaking with genuine amusement, “you guys are practically whores,” he clicked his tongue, “but yeah—nothing beats that post-game high when someone’s waiting for you looking like that. Makes all the bruises worth it.” He bit his lower lip lightly, still grinning as he scanned the lively surroundings, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.
Across the grass, you stood with Jungwon and Karina near the low stone wall, Jungwon had dragged the two of you here earlier, insisting it would be lowkey fun because his Jay hyung had invited him and “it’s not like we have to stay forever.” The music played in the background, but your attention stayed on them—sharp little remarks about random campus drama, Karina’s latest story about a disastrous blind date, the usual easy flow that made the noise somewhat bearable.
Jungwon glanced toward the center of the party, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he watched Jake’s group, “Jake’s in full golden-boy mode tonight. Look at him— Jay says he’s the same off the field, always cracking jokes even when everyone’s half-dead from practice.”
Karina nodded, swirling the last of her drink slowly, “It’s almost unfair how he does that, wish i could’ve been that extroverted honestly.”
You followed their gaze without meaning to. Jake was mid-laugh again, black hair falling messily into his eyes as he ran a hand through it. The light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the way his whole body seemed to lean into the moment. Everyone around him was leaning in too, feeding off that bright, effortless warmth.
It made something tight and irritated coil low in your stomach. Not jealousy, no, just exhaustion at the performance of it all. The way the entire party seemed wired to orbit one guy who never seemed to run out of smiles or energy.
You shrugged, “he’s too loud. Must get exhausting pretending the world’s that fun all the time.”
Jungwon bumped your shoulder lightly, his laugh soft and familiar, “c’mon, he’s not that bad. Jay swears he’s actually decent when you get him one-on-one. But yeah, he looks a wee bit too jolly tonight.”
Karina smirked, eyes glinting with teasing as she glanced at you, “you’d probably shut him down in two seconds flat if he ever tried talking to you. I’d pay to see that.”
You pressed your lips together for half a second, the thought of Jake Sim turning that sunshine smile on you—of him thinking he could just waltz into your carefully guarded space—sent a flicker of pure distaste through you. You weren’t interested in being another notch, another story he told his friends the next day.
Your life revolved around the quiet satisfaction of getting things right, majorly focusing on, well, studies. Romance, especially the loud, golden-boy kind, had no place in it.
“Exactly,” you said, tone edged with dry sarcasm, “not interested. Let’s grab something from the food trucks and dip before it gets worse. I’ve hit my limit on forced fun for one night.”
You didn’t mind being in the crowd as long as your friends were with you, however, you did mind the exhaustion creeping upon your body. No one but you were to be blamed for it. Going to the gym in the morning, catching up on lectures later, getting groceries, and now being at a party—you’d tired yourself out with the simple mindset of being busy is a blessing. It was true to some extent, albeit not in a way that your friends would agree. The conversation didn’t dull as you started making your way out to eat with your best friends.
On the other side of the quad, Jake was only half-listening to the guys now, he felt himself getting comfortable in his smaller circle, it was exactly the kind of night Jake usually loved.
But his eyes kept drifting.
It wasn’t as if it was his first time seeing you, especially when Jungwon was always around too, it was merely the fact that you kept your distance, always. Jake wasn’t blind, he appreciated beauty which you carried around effortlessly. The lack of general courtesy to acknowledge strangers? Not so much.
You looked like you wished to be anywhere but here (which was true), making him wonder why. He ran his hand through his hair, messing the soft waves before smoothing them back down, a habit he barely noticed anymore.
Jaemin, who had been unusually quiet for the last minute, suddenly leaned in closer, voice dropping low enough that only their small circle could hear over the music, “wanna make things interesting?”
Jay groaned, knowing his proposal would cause damage in the name of merriment, because that’s how Jaemin thrived. Sunghoon was rather interested in knowing what was gonna be the deal here, and so, he continued.
“See her? Jungwon’s friend?” The group turned and looked your way, Jay already opening his mouth to stop him, but of course, Jaemin was quicker, “make her fall in love with you in a month.”
“Wait—me?” Jake echoed, the word half-laugh, half-disbelief, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it usually did.
Jaemin leaned in closer. His grin was sharp, almost scary, “yeah, you, in one month. Make Jungwon’s friend fall for you, hard. Like, actually in love with you to the point it gets public.”
Jay’s head snapped up so fast the corn on his plate nearly toppled, “Jaemin, no. She’s not—fuck, she’s not gonna be interested, at all. I literally know her, she keeps everyone at arm’s length, especially guys like Jake, no offence.”
Sunghoon’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, interested now in a way that made Jake’s stomach twist, “stakes?”
Jaemin didn’t hesitate, “If Jake wins—makes her say it out loud, in front of us—he gets the M4. Keys, papers, the whole matte-black beast. Mine for a month, and if he wants to keep it after that, it’s his. No take-backs.”
The circle went quiet for half a second before Heeseung let out a low whistle, cup frozen halfway to his mouth, “your car? The one you won’t even let me sit in without a fucking background check?”
“Yep.”
Jay dragged a hand down his face, shoulders tight, “Jake, this is messed up. You’ll hurt her, and then you’ll feel like shit, and she’ll hate you, and the whole group’s gonna be stuck in the middle because Jungwon’s her best friend. This isn’t a game, It’s gonna blow up in both your faces.”
Jake’s fingers found the back of his neck, then slid up into his hair without thinking. He messed them further, his eyes drifting across the quad again to where you were still walking away with Jungwon and Karina, posture straight, silver ring catching the light as you twisted it mindlessly.
He should say no. He should clap Jaemin on the shoulder, laugh it off, steer the conversation back to the upcoming football match or the thermodynamics midterm that was currently trying to murder all of them.
But something stubborn flickered in his chest. The same part that hated the idea of failing at the one thing he was supposedly best at, making people feel seen. You hadn’t even looked at him twice.
One month, one girl who looked like she probably just needed someone nice to talk to and share her worries—right?
Jake bit his lower lip for half a second, the way he did when he was locking in on a tricky play. Then the grin came back as bright and effortless, the one that always worked.
“Deal,” he said, not confident at all, though great at hiding it.
The group exploded, clearly not okay with the idea itself. Jay groaned louder, already shaking his head, “you’re both idiots. This is gonna end badly.”
Sunghoon just laughed under his breath, leaning back against the pillar, “I’ll take that bet too. Odds on Jake cracking first?”
Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, demanding proof in the form of media. Jaemin slapped Jake’s shoulder hard enough to make his red solo cup slosh over the rim.
“Day one starts tomorrow, Jakey. Better bring everything you’ve got.”
Jake laughed again, but when it settled, it left something quieter behind. Something that tasted a little (a lot) like doubt.
Later that night, when the place had emptied and the only sound left was the low hum of crickets, Jake lay on his back in his room. The mellow playlist he always played when the noise finally stopped drifted from his phone. His small notebook—the one no one ever saw—was open on his chest, a half-finished football formation doodled in the margin. He wrote one line.
She doesn’t like loud spaces, or crowds.
He closed the notebook, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and exhaled into the dark.
“What the fuck am I doing?” He whispered.
Across campus, you were already in your room, bullet journal open on your desk, silver ring still on your finger. You didn’t know about the bet yet. All you knew was that Jake Sim had never looked your way before last night, and something about the way his eyes had followed you across the grass fell off.
You pressed your lips together, biting the inside of your cheek once, then wrote in the tiniest handwriting in the margin of tomorrow’s schedule.
Keep your distance from Jake Sim.
CHAPTER TWO: Bet inverse?
Jake’s alarm went off at 6:47 in the morning like it always did, but this morning he didn’t bother hitting snooze. He stayed there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, the bet from last night practically sitting on his chest. Jaemin’s evil smile and Jay’s warning kept on repeating in his mind.
He should have let it go, instead, he rolled out of the bed, pulled on his black hoodie and shorts, laced up his running shoes after freshening up. He knew where Jungwon lived, the dorms near the science buildings where there was always an influx of food carts nearby.
The distance wasn’t long per se, but his breathlessness certainly made it seem like it was, and the little hope he had to spot you in the cold of this morning.
The sky was soft gray before the sun decided to show up, and Jake’s lungs were burning in a way that made him feel good, hair sticking to his forehead by the time he slowed to jog near the coffee cart.
To his absolute luck, he spotted you right there as you thought what you should order from the coffee cart, looking too proper in your jeans that fit you just right as if it wasn’t so early in the morning, and he took a moment to observe you, breathing hard, wiping his face on the sleeve of his hoodie. He stepped up beside you, the scent of your perfume overtaking his senses.
His friends called him weird for this rather peculiar habit of his where he leaned in too much to get a sniff of, well, practically everything. So, it was hard fir him to control himself at the moment.
“Y/N,” he said, voice low so it wouldn’t startle you, “uh—hey.”
You turned, eyes meeting him before you granted him the smallest nod of acknowledgement, “Jake.”
The barista waited and Jake kept his hands in his hoodie pocket so he wouldn’t fidget, “one Americano for me, and whatever she’s having—I’ll cover it.”
You frowned at this because Jake truly had no reason to be talking to you here, much less paying for your drink, “you really don’t have to.”
“I know.” He offered a half-smile, the real one, “but I want to. We’ve been around each other enough—Jungwon’s parties, that study hall last semester. Felt kinda stupid that we’ve never actually talked.”
You studied him a second longer, like you were trying to decide if this was a line or just politeness. Then you told the barista your usual—vanilla latte, extra shot, and stepped aside while the machine hissed to life.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward exactly, Jake could feel the bet sitting heavy in his throat, but right now it was better—the way your perfume kept drifting over every time the breeze picked up. He wanted to lean in again, but he didn’t.
When both cups came out he handed yours over carefully, no fingers touching, just the warm cardboard passing from his palm to yours.
“Uh—thanks,” you said simply before you started walking.
He fell in beside you, matching your stride without crowding your personal space. The path was empty enough to give you both privacy which you didn’t need as his heartbeat felt a little too loud in his ears, and for the first time, he found himself being nervous to talk to someone.
After half a minute you spoke again, “so how do you always act all nice for people you barely know?”
His lips curved, “I don’t do that, not really. Usually I’m the one everyone expects to keep things light,” he mumbled, “I saw you last night, you looked—bothered? Made me wonder what it’d be like to actually talk to you instead of just watching.”
You took a sip, wondering how he so casually admitted to staring at you, “and what’s the verdict so far?”
He glanced sideways, the early light was starting to hit the side of your face, “still figuring it out. But the coffee seems like a decent start.”
You didn’t smile, not really. But something in your expression eased, and it made him feel a little accomplished, as if he’d won something small and fragile that could disappear any moment.
The path split ahead, biotech building looming on the left. You slowed, turning to face him fully. For a second the guarded look cracked open, and he caught something underneath it—irritation, maybe, or the faintest flicker of curiosity you didn’t want to admit to.
“I’ve got lab,” you said.
Jake nodded, the easy warmth still on his face even though his stomach twisted with how badly he wanted to ask one more question, “yeah, of course. See you around, Y/N.”
You gave one small nod then turned and walked toward the doors. He stood there until you disappeared inside, the taste of black coffee bitter on his tongue and the ghost of your perfume still clinging to the air around him. He breathed it in once, almost guilty, then let it go.
Back in his dorm he dropped onto the bed still in his hoodie, the room quiet. The small notebook he never let anyone see was already open on his lap. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, before writing: Vanilla latte with an extra shot, morning lectures in lab 291.
He closed the notebook, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and stayed like that until the pressure behind them eased.
Meanwhile, you were beyond confused narrating it to Karina later, who gave you a dry chuckle, “yeah, don’t entertain him,” she said, and you scoffed—as if you’d ever do that.
But three days had passed since the party, and it was as if Jake had made it his personal mission to accidentally run into you whenever you least expected him to. Somehow, he had managed to get your schedule, which is why he was standing outside your lecture on the very next day.
Jake was a poor actor and highly unaware of the same, so his exclaimed Oh, Y/N, felt rather comical to you, granted he had two coffees in his veiny hands. You chose to ignored him, face pulling into a natural smile for a second, and he stood there shocked, only to realize you were waving at Jungwon who stood behind him.
Jake stood there for a few minutes, not moving even when you had left while Heeseung and Sunghoon stood right there, judging him. Your smile—as brief as it was, had been pretty, too fucking pretty, and doubt crept up Jake. He wondered if he’ll ever be able to coax that smile out of you himself.
The thought followed him through the rest of the day, sharp enough to make him reroute his afternoon lecture so he happened to be near the vending machines right as you stepped out of lab. He was there again the morning after that, leaning against the wall outside the biotech building with a single vanilla latte in hand, the extra shot already marked on the side in the barista’s neat handwriting. Each time he appeared, he kept his voice low, never demanding more, though it felt like a blow to his ego how you actively tried to avoid him. He genuinely wished to talk to you (for the bet, of course).
By the third afternoon the rain had started, insistent against the library windows. You had slipped into the far back study nook, the one buried behind the tallest reference shelves, you needed it—needed to bury yourself in studies and forget how Jake’s persistence was beginning to thread through your days like a melody you couldn’t quite shake.
You pulled out your bullet journal and started annotating protocols for the upcoming lab, pen moving with sharp precision, and you felt a presence behind you. You were most ready to snap at Jake, but it was Jaemin who found you instead.
He dropped into the chair across from you, smirking, like he had been waiting for this exact moment, “Jake’s been hanging around you a lot lately,” he said, voice light but knowing, “you might fall for him.”
You set your pen down slowly, “what makes you think I’ll fall for him?”
Jaemin’s smirk deepened, “well, chances are less but certainly never zero.”
You frowned, irritation rising, “what do you want, Jaemin?”
“I was getting to it.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting, “I wanna propose another bet since I’m bored and I clearly care for you.”
“Another bet?” You asked, brain finally working. Jake was following you around for a fucking bet, you should’ve known.
Jaemin watched your face change and his grin widened, “I give you thirty days to make him fall for you. And I mean truly head-over-heels kind of fall, then reject him, then you win, since you clearly don’t care about him.”
You stared at him, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, “I don’t want to be involved playing with feelings.”
“If he didn’t care for your feelings, why are you holding back?”
“Cause I’m not like him?”
“Fair, but here’s the deal—” Jaemin leaned in closer, voice dropping.
“Isn’t he your friend?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“It’s fun.”
“You’re insane.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“What is he getting out of this?”
“My car.”
Another scoff left your mouth at this, and Jaemin said he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d win. Nothing was in your mind honestly, but you were too pissed to let it go.
“And what will I get?”
“A chance to absolutely shatter Jake’s ego, and that trip to Paris with your friends, you’ve been eyeing it for a while now.”
“How the fuck did you—”
“I have my ways,” he shrugged, but his eyes, oh his eyes were glimmering with joy. He almost seemed like a Cheshire cat.
So you agreed. Jaemin only smiled, walking away from you now, leaving you rather disturbed.
As if the universe itself had been listening, Jake walked past the end of the aisle at that exact moment, eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on you. You met his gaze head-on and gave him the smallest smile you owned, and he paused mid-step, lips parting like he might say something, then you looked away, not bothering with him anymore than you had today.
The game had just begun. And this time, you were the one holding the cards.
CHAPTER THREE: Ignorance isn’t bliss
You ignored Jake.
It was rather easy to do so despite all the plans you had brainstormed to make him fall in love with you hopelessly. The day had been too hectic, and to say you were exhausted would be an understatement—even the slightest voice would absolutely make you scream out in frustration given the state of your mind. Which is why you found yourself sitting in the bleachers, all silent and calm.
Truth be told, you didn’t wish to get into this mess by any means, however, Jake wasn’t one to give up. You scoffed at how he’d trade any stranger’s feelings for a stupid car, and even then he’d be celebrated for winning a bet.
Jake didn’t know why but the past few days had been weird for him. He couldn’t understand why you smiled at him in the library only to abruptly disappear from the face of the earth next—and yes, it bothered him because the time was ticking by. Maybe Jake was a lucky guy, cause right then, he found you at the bleachers, sitting up there as if trying to hide from the world.
It was clear you didn’t wish to be disturbed, by Jake of all people, but his feet carried him before his mind could keep up, and that’s how he found himself sitting three seats away from you, prepping to show his absolute best flirt game, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “are you okay?”
“Why are you everywhere?” You exasperated, finally turning to look at him despite knowing he’d found you before.
For once he didn’t jump in with some easy line. He just sat there a second, elbows on his knees, watching you like he was actually trying to read the mood instead of skating past it.
“I saw you from the path,” he said, “you were up here alone, I figured I’d check if you were okay. That’s it.”
You let out a sharp breath, the exhaustion from your day mixing with the frustration that had been building since Jaemin dropped his little bomb about the bet. This is all fake, you reminded yourself. He’s only here because he wants that stupid car, that bet.
“Checking in, right. You’ve been turning up at the coffee cart, outside my lectures, the vending machines, now here. I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”
He shifted one seat closer, jacket creaking a little, but still left space between you, “I’m not trying to push. I know it probably comes off like I’m in your face every day. It’s just—you always seem like you’re carrying a lot and you’re doing it alone. I guess I wanted to see if you were actually alright or if you were just pushing through.”
You turned to face him, eyes narrowing, “pushing through is what students do, Jake. I don’t need an audience for it.”
“Yeah, I see that,” he said, gulping as he stared at your side profile, “you’re pretty resilient about it. Most people would’ve already vented to someone by now—and maybe you did to your friends but yeah.”
“Resilient?” You let out a short laugh, “or just tired of everyone expecting me to perform. Unlike the quintessential golden boy who’s always got a smile ready.”
Jake winced, looked out at the empty field for a second, then back at you, “golden boy—ouch, fair though. That’s the label I got stuck with.”
You crossed your arms tighter, “so, why are you up here trying to talk to me instead of being there with your friends? It doesn’t add up.”
He rubbed his palm over his knee, “uh—with them it’s nonstop noise, like I love my friends but it’s all just football practice, jokes, keeping the energy up no matter what. With you—it doesn’t feel like I have to be that version of me.”
You scoffed, how cliché, “right. So now the guy who’s always the center of everything suddenly wants to sit in silence on the bleachers?”
Jake leaned forward a fraction, elbows on his knees, “there’s this whole dichotomy between what everyone sees and what’s actually going on inside. Talking to you, it’s not like that.”
“Not like that,” you repeated, the words coming out flat, “how convenient, Jake.”
He swallowed again, eyes flicking to your face as you said his name, “It’s not convenient, It’s just true. You don’t expect me to keep the vibe going, y’know? You just say what you think.”
You felt your chest tighten. He sounded so damn eloquent even when he was lying, “you’re really good at this, you know? Making it sound like you actually get it.”
“I’m not trying to be good at anything,” Jake said, voice dropping, “I just keep showing up because every time I do, I see more of the real you. Not the version you show everyone else.”
You let out a breath, he could definitely get a few points for acting, “okay, so listen then—my lab did suck today. Equipment kept failing, I’m behind on three lectures, and I came up here to be alone, that’s it. Nothing exciting.”
“Hey—i didn’t ask for exciting,” he said, staring at the way your fingers still twisted the ring, “my day was shit too—coach rode us hard about tomorrow’s game and I barely studied for my midterm. Sometimes I just want to sit somewhere and not pretend everything’s perfect.”
You stared at him, “so you picked me to sit with? Out of everyone on campus?”
“Yeah,” Jake said simply, meeting your eyes, “because you don’t expect anything from me. You call me on my shit. It’s nice, I guess.”
“Whatever, I’m fine keeping my distance and acting like you care won’t change that, okay?”
“I do care,” Jake let out too quickly, surprised at his own words, “that’s the part you don’t believe, but it’s true.”
The conversation was getting too real, too fast, and the knowledge of the bet made every word feel like a trap, “It’s exhausting trying to figure out if any of this is real or if you’re just—”
Mid-sentence, just as your voice rose, Jake closed the gap by embracing you into a hug. His arms wrapping around you without hesitation, one hand settling at your back, the other across your shoulders. The dark jacket was soft against your cheek, still warm from the afternoon sun, carrying that clean, steady scent that was just him.
You practically froze as his heartbeat thudded against your ear—fast, as if the move had surprised him too. It was warm, really warm, making everything feel a little less heavy for a second. Even though you knew this was all part of the cursed bet, the gesture was still something, making your eyes sting. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had held you like they actually meant it.
Jake’s own breath caught as he held you. His pulse wouldn’t slow down, guilt and something else he couldn’t pinpoint made his heart seem heavier. For those few seconds he just held on, chin resting lightly against the top of your head, breathing you in like he could somehow make the whole stupid situation disappear.
It was awkward, because you in fact did not reciprocate the hug that well, proceeding to pull back with your cheeks burning. Jake’s hands stayed on your shoulders for half a second longer than they should have before he let go, looking just as thrown as you felt. He closed his eyes, biting on his bottom lip too hard, panicking cause for once, he didn’t know how to handle the situation.
The anxiety only rose as you grabbed your bag, planning on getting up, however, his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I’ve got a game tomorrow—It would mean a lot if you came, no pressure. You don’t have to stay the whole time or cheer or anything. Just come—if you want to for a break.”
You didn’t answer right away, watching him mutter it out all breathless, hair messy and cheeks seemingly red now. You barely caught on to his words, still processing the warmth, but a part of you did wish to reject him on the spot and walk away before the things got more complicated.
Another part wondered what would happen if you actually showed up, since you did have your own bet to take care of.
CHAPTER FOUR: Like a rom-com actor
The next afternoon the stadium was already packed and buzzing when Jake stepped onto the field for warm-ups. He was supposed to be loosening up his legs, listening to the coach bark instructions, getting his head in the game. Instead his eyes kept flicking up to the stands every few seconds. The wind was blowing hard across the pitch, constantly shoving his black hair into his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push it back.
Jay jogged over and bumped his shoulder, “dude, earth to Jake? You’ve been staring up there like you’re waiting for the love of your life to appear. You good?”
Sunghoon, who was retying his cleats a few feet away, let out a low laugh, “he’s been doing it nonstop. Head snapping up every ten seconds. What’s got you so distracted today? You never get like this before a home game.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a casual laugh even though his stomach was doing flips, “I’m fine, just looking for someone.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Sunghoon, “someone? As in a specific someone who’s basically a bet? Damn, this must be serious if it’s got you this antsy within a week.”
Jake didn’t get the chance to answer, because he finally spotted you.
You were sitting a few rows up with Jungwon and Karina, the wind tugging at your hair the same way it was messing with his. The second your eyes met his across the field, Jake’s breath caught hard in his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs because—you actually came? For a second he forgot how to move, just standing there staring like an idiot while the wind kept pushing his hair everywhere.
You gave him a small smile and lifted your hand, waving at him softly.
Jake’s whole face lit up before he could stop it. Without thinking, he waved back enthusiastically, arm swinging high and wide as if he was trying to reach you from the middle of the pitch. His hair flew wildly in the wind as he did it, the motion so eager and over-the-top that Jay choked on his water and Sunghoon doubled over laughing so hard he had to grab onto Jay’s arm to stay upright.
“What the fuck—” Sunghoon wheezed, “you just waved like a little kid who spotted his mom after school. I’ve never seen you do that in my life.”
Jay was cracking up too, wiping water off his chin, “yeah he’s absolutely finished. Down horrendously bad and it’s not even been a few days.”
“Guess we know who’s gonna lose the bet,” added Hoon in a singsong voice.
“He never stood a chance honestly.”
Meanwhile, around you, a bunch of girls in the stands noticed Jake’s dramatic wave and immediately started squealing, waving back excitedly and calling out his name like he’d waved at all of them. A few even stood up, cheering for him loudly.
You raised an eyebrow, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and slight disbelief, “damn,” you muttered, glancing at the crowd, “he sure is famous.”
“And a player,” added Jungwon.
“And an asshole,” quipped Karina, arms crossed over her chest.
You had told them, of course you did, and watching them get so enraged on behalf of you did make you feel tons better, which shouldn’t have been the case since they did threaten to chop Jake’s dick off, but hey, the way Karina said it was quite comical.
Down on the field Jay spotted Jungwon in the stands and lifted his hand in a casual wave with a clueless grin on his face like nothing in the world was wrong. Jungwon just stared back with his jaw tight, not waving back as he was convinced Jay already knew about the bet and was somehow backing Jake up, and the thought made his expression go hard.
You nudged Jungwon’s side with your elbow, keeping your voice low, “c’mon, be normal, wave back or he’s gonna think something’s weird.”
Jungwon let out a reluctant huff, but he finally lifted his hand and gave a small, stiff wave. Jay’s grin widened like nothing had happened at all, and he turned back to the field, completely oblivious.
Karina groaned beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest against the wind, “I still can’t believe we’re freezing our asses off here when we could be on your couch watching Harry Potter for the nth time.”
You let out a small laugh despite everything, the sound almost swallowed by the growing roar of the crowd as the teams lined up, “you said you’d come for moral support.”
“Yeah, well, moral support is currently questioning every life choice that led me here,” she muttered, but there was a reluctant smile tugging at her lips anyway, “at least the view isn’t completely terrible.”
The whistle blew and the game kicked off in a whirlwind of motion. You tried to follow the ball, the quick passes, the way the players cut across the pitch, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jake. He moved with this radiant energy that pulled focus without even trying, hair whipping in the wind, legs eating up the grass, every sprint full of that effortless, captivating drive. The crowd’s cheers rose and fell in effervescent waves, but you didn’t feel any better, still suffering with that familiar push-pull of suspicion and something warmer you really didn’t wish to name.
The first half was all back-and-forth tension, both teams trading chances without anyone breaking through. Jungwon kept up a quiet running commentary under his breath, trying to keep things light, while Karina complained about the cold seeping through her jacket and how much better butterbeer would taste than the lukewarm soda they were selling. You nodded along, but your attention stayed glued to Jake, much to your friends’ dismay. Every time he glanced toward the stands, even mid-run, your chest did this annoying little flip, which pissed you off.
Then the second half heated up. The score stayed locked until the final minutes, the air thick with anticipation. Jake got the ball near the edge of the box, dodged one defender, then another as he cut inside. The crowd held its breath as he struck it clean, a powerful curving shot that sailed straight into the top corner, past the keeper’s desperate reach.
The stadium lit up into celebration but Jake didn’t celebrate with the team right away. He turned straight toward the stands, eyes scanning until they found you. Then he pointed, right at you, his whole face breaking into this bright, almost whimsical smile as he jogged backward, arm still extended like he was making sure the entire world knew exactly who that goal was for. His jersey had ridden up in the sprint, revealing the sharp, glistening lines of his abs under the stadium lights, every defined ridge catching the late afternoon sun for a fleeting second before the fabric fell back down.
Your heart raced, oh that traitorous little thing, thudding hard enough that you could feel it in your throat. Heat rushed to your cheeks even as the knowledge of the bet sat heavy in your stomach, whispering that none of this was real. Still, for that split second, with the roar of the crowd and his hair messy in the wind and that radiant look aimed straight at you, it felt too much. Too real perhaps? Too dangerous regardless. The enigmatic pull of him was getting harder to ignore, and you hated how easily your body responded anyway.
Karina snorted beside you, rolling her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical, “oh my god, could he be any more performative? Pointing like he’s the hero in some cheesy romance movie, puh-lease.”
Jungwon chuckled quietly, but his eyes flicked to you with that same protective glint from earlier. You didn’t say anything, just stared down at the field as Jake got swarmed by his teammates, the final whistle blowing and the win sinking in. The crowd was still cheering wildly, but all you could feel was the lingering echo of that pointed finger and the confusing satiation it left within your chest.
Jungwon turned to you, voice low so only you could hear, “so, you’re actually going through with the plan?”
You let out a long sigh, shoulders dropping as you pushed yourself up from the bleacher. The metal was cold under your palms, “yeah, I kinda have to now. It’s the only way to beat him at his own game.”
Karina stood too, brushing off her jeans with a dramatic huff, “let’s get out of here before I turn into an icicle, you better make him drop down on his knees, babe.”
You nodded, hugging them both, but instead of heading toward the exit, your feet carried you toward the locker room area. You hated this part already, leaning against the brick wall, arms wrapped around yourself against the biting wind, you waited, every second dragging like you were standing there on purpose just to prove a point to yourself.
The door eventually did swing open and you watched Jake stepping out, hair still damp from the shower and curling softly at the ends, a fresh black hoodie hanging loose over his frame. He was laughing at something one of the guys said behind him when his eyes landed on you, causing him to stop mid-step.
For a second he just stared, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into this softer, brighter, almost disbelieving expression. His lips parted, and then he broke into the biggest, most genuine smile you had seen on him yet. It was radiant, boyish in how uncontained it was, his eyes lighting up like you were the best part of his entire day, and it made your throat go dry.
“Hey—you’re still here,” he said, voice warm and a little breathless as he walked straight over to you.
You pushed off the wall, trying to keep your expression casual even as your heart picked up speed, “you played really well out there. That last goal was incredible, it was the first time I experienced the whole stadium going crazy,” you said, completely ignoring the part where he dedicated that goal to you.
Jake’s smile grew even wider, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He ran a hand through his damp hair, still looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there, “you really stayed for the whole thing. God, that means a lot. I kept looking up into the stands and there you were. I—it motivated me, I can’t even explain it.”
He looked so happy, so openly thrilled, his eyes bright and captivating under the fading stadium lights. The way he was looking at you, like your presence genuinely made his day, made something dangerous flutter in your chest despite the reality of it all. You stepped a little closer, heart hammering, and did what you had to do.
You rose onto your toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, letting it linger for a second, “Uhm—I’ll see you around,” you murmured against his skin, starting to pull back.
But Jake’s hand gently caught your wrist, stopping you. His touch was light, almost careful, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he held on too tight, since this did seem like a dream to him. Behind him, Heeseung had paused in the doorway, watching the whole exchange with an amused little smirk he wasn’t even trying to hide.
“Wait,” Jake said softly, still processing the kiss, his thumb brushing once over your skin, “you’re leaving already?”
You swallowed, “yeah. I have an assignment I need to finish tonight.”
He nodded, but didn’t let go right away, “right, of course.” Then, a little shyly, he added, “there’s a party at the house tonight—but if that doesn’t work, we’re having a smaller one at the dorm in a few days. Just the guys and whoever shows up. You should come, I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you.”
You hesitated, the warmth of his fingers and the hope in his eyes making it harder than it should have been, “I’m not really a party person, Jake.”
“I know,” he said quickly, voice gentle, “that’s why I’m telling you it’ll be chill. No pressure at all, just come hang out for a bit. I’ll even make sure there’s something better than cheap beer. Please?”
The way he looked at you, so earnest and a little nervous, made you feel guilty just a smidge. You could feel Heeseung’s amused gaze on the both of you, but you kept your focus on Jake.
“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, offering a small smile.
Jake’s eyes lit up like you’d already said yes. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
You gave him one last nod before gently pulling your wrist back and turning to leave, but Jake’s hand caught your wrist again, gentle in his action, like he couldn’t let the moment slip away just yet. He gave a light tug, drawing you back toward him until your back pressed against his chest. For a heartbeat you felt the solid warmth of him behind you, the faint dampness of his hoodie, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then he leaned down, one arm slipping loosely around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
His lips were plump and soft, warm from the shower, staying there for a second longer than necessary. The touch was rather unhurried, sending a quiet shiver through you that had absolutely nothing to do with the wind.
“Jake—”
When he pulled back, he bit his lower lip, eyes bright and a little shy as they met yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice hopeful, like the words were a promise he was already holding onto.
You managed a small nod, heart still stumbling over itself, and finally stepped away. The spot on your cheek stayed warm long after you turned the corner, and you wondered how this game was gonna end.
CHAPTER FIVE: Soaked and blue balled.
She gets cold so fast, shoulders hunch up the second wind hits.
She keeps twisting the rings on her index and ring finger.
She has a faint dimple on her right cheek.
She fits perfectly in my ar—
Now, Jake had not the faintest clue where he was going with this, yet he kept on writing under the pretence of keeping all the minute observations in a precise manner for his advantage. He stared at the page for another moment, then shut the notebook and tossed it onto his desk.
The ever so unforeseeable rain had started hammering against his window, and he watched one single raindrop cascading down the surface before he sat right up, grabbing an umbrella to head out without any destination in his mind. Well, he did have to bring Jay back from Jungwon’s dorm (who was facing this taxing challenge of acting normal around his hyung). It didn’t go beyond that really.
He wasn’t used to this silence and peace, he never really went out in the rain, calling it the perfect time to just play games with his friends. However, it was truly hard to pinpoint what made him rush out like this, only coming back to reality once he reached the lecture hall area. He was about to keep walking when he saw you pushing through the doors with Haechan beside you. Jake knew him, he was Jeno’s friend and also one of the dude who fucked around a lot.
Jake wasn’t any better by any means, but he hadn’t even thought of such a thing in the past eleven days. He simply stopped, watching how your umbrella showed no signs of cooperating in this windy weather, and your shoulders were starting to hunch in the same way Jake had noticed during his half time game yesterday.
He jogged to you, dismissing any other thought, especially the one that sounded a lot like Jay’s voice laughing at him for being too involved, “hey—wait up!”
You turned around, rain evident on your lashes already, and in that fleeting second, your mind was quick to admit his beauty under the dimness of the evening.
He lifted his umbrella higher, covering you completely as you lowered yours, the wide canopy shutting out the worst of the storm and pulling the two of you into a small, private bubble.
“Jay’s over at your dorm with Jungwon right now,” he said, a little out of breath, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “He needed some notes or something. I was heading there anyway to pick him up. Come on, my umbrella’s bigger.”
You glanced at your own umbrella, which was flapping uselessly, “I have one.”
“Yeah, but it’s not doing you much good,” Jake replied, stepping closer so the shelter stayed perfectly over you. His shoulder brushed yours as you started walking, “seriously—you’ll be soaked before you even get halfway. Let me walk you.”
Haechan gave you a quick, amused look and muttered something about seeing you in lab tomorrow before disappearing down another path with a wave, making you roll your eyes as he made missy faces, which Jake noticed.
The two of you fell into step under the umbrella. Jake kept it tilted toward you even when it meant his own left side kept getting wet. The closeness was apparent, his arm warm against yours, the faint clean scent of his shampoo mixing with the wet earth and rain. Every time you stepped around a puddle, his sleeve brushed your wrist, sending a small spark up your arm.
For a minute the only sound was the rain. Then Jake spoke, voice low and a little playful, “you know, I was halfway convinced you’d avoid me today after yesterday.”
You let out a small breath of laughter, “I thought about it, then I remembered I don’t own a boat and the campus flooded.”
He grinned, glancing down at you. The way the rain made your lashes look darker, the little droplets clinging to your skin, made his stomach flip, “lucky for me then. I would’ve been stuck walking alone, getting soaked, feeling so sorry for myself.”
“You’re still getting soaked,” you pointed out, noticing how his left shoulder was dark with water. Without thinking you shifted a little closer under the umbrella, your arm pressing more firmly against his.
Jake bit down his smile, “worth it. Besides, you’re warm and It’s nice.” His voice dropped a fraction, “are you always freezing or is it just me that brings the chill?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved despite yourself, “It’s the rain, genius. Though you do have a habit of making normal things seem complicated.”
“Complicated in a good way, I hope,” he said, the words light but his eyes searching yours for a second longer than necessary. His free hand brushed yours again as you both avoided another puddle, and this time his fingers lingered for half a second before he managed to pull himself back.
The rain kept falling, steady and heavy, but under the umbrella everything felt smaller, rather warmer, you noticed how steady his breathing was, how the warmth of him seemed to chase away the chill seeping into your bones. He bit the inside of his cheek because in that moment, he wasn’t really acting, the wanton ease you provided him with was too real.
“You’re weird,” you muttered, clearly not meaning any bit of it, and he knew the implication behind it, or maybe it was his maladaptive daydreaming.
The dorm building appeared through the silver curtain of rain. Jake slowed deliberately, drawing the last few steps out as if the walk could stretch forever. When you reached the small covered overhang by the entrance, he lowered the umbrella but didn’t step away. Instead he moved in closer, guiding you gently until your back met the cool brick wall. The overhang sheltered you both from the downpour, but the world narrowed to the narrow space between your bodies and the solid wall behind you.
He was close now, so close you could see the tiny freckles across his cheek, the way his damp hair curled softly at the temples yet again, the faint flush across the bridge of his nose from the cold. His gaze moved over your face with quiet hunger, taking in every detail—the way rain glistened on your skin, the soft flush on your cheeks, the faint dimple that appeared when your lips parted slightly. You looked so pretty like this, natural and glowing in the dim light, and the sight made his throat tighten.
You raised your eyebrow, heart hammering against your ribs, “Jake?”
He only smiled, slow and unsteady, biting down on his bottom lip as he leaned in closer, closer, until the space between you was almost gone. His eyes dropped to your mouth, dark and wanting, then lifted again to meet yours. In that suspended second neither of you were thinking about the bet, about the car, about the game you were both playing. There was only the rain, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the dizzying pull that made everything else disappear.
Right then the dorm door swung open with a loud metallic scrape.
Jay stepped out, nearly walking straight into the moment. He stopped short, eyes widening as he took in how close you and Jake were standing against the wall.
“Whoa, Y/N?” Jay said, a smirk already spreading across his face, “am I interrupting something?”
Your eyes widened in realization and you slipped sideways, ducking under Jake’s arm without a word. You pushed through the door and disappeared inside, cheeks burning, the echo of the almost-kiss still buzzing hot in your mind.
Jake stayed frozen, then groaned hard. He turned and leaned back against the same brick wall, eyes falling shut as the rain continued to fall around him, umbrella now lowered. His heart was still racing, loud and unsteady, the ghost of your warmth lingering against his chest.
He let out a slow breath, jaw tight. I’m going to kill Jay.
CHAPTER SIX: Jaemin the instigator.
Jake had only read a few books in his life, only one of which had a plot that truly stuck with him as someone who was never an avid enjoyer of reading literature. There was a line that kept replaying in his mind lately, more often than he cared to admit.
As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.
Funny enough, it was from Winnie the pooh.
It isn’t a romantic line, not even remotely, but he manages to fit it into his narrative perfectly, especially during the quiet. Mind drifting back to when the rain had been dripping from the eaves and your back had been against the brick and he’d leaned in close enough to feel the warmth of your breath. The bet had started as a stupid game. Now it felt like the kind of quiet adventure he hadn’t seen coming.
Unfortunately, the distraction followed him to the practice field.
During a simple change-of-direction drill, his mind slipped again. The ball came low across the turf and Jake planted his left foot to cut inside, making his ankle roll with an ugly twist. It wasnt anything dramatic, just a sharp flare of pain that shot up his calf and dropped him to one knee, breath hissing between his teeth.
Jay reached him first, crouching down fast, “shit, Jake, what the hell? You good?”
Heeseung slowed beside them, still breathing hard, “dude, you’ve been completely zoned out all week, like—really zoned out. This bet is fucking with your head too much, just call it off, man. For real.”
Sunghoon hung back a step, arms crossed, watching quietly, “coach is gonna notice, y’know? It’s not worth it.”
Jake sat back on the grass, testing the ankle with a careful flex, the place already swelling under the sock. Minor, probably, but it hurt enough to make his eyes sting for a second,“It’s fine,” he muttered, forcing the usual half-smile, “just a tweak—I’m good.”
From the edge of the drill Jaemin let out a soft, pleased laugh, “or this is actually perfect timing. Wounded-puppy Jake? She’s gonna eat it up.” He clapped Jake on the back once, “I’ll handle it. You just stay looking all soft and grateful.”
Jay shot him a sharp look, “Jaemin, I swear to God—”
But Jaemin was already jogging off to find you.
You were stepping out of your last lecture when Jaemin fell into step beside you, which was kind of scary.
“Jake’s in the medical room,” Jaemin said casually, making your eyes go wide at the sudden voice, “twisted his ankle pretty bad at practice. Trainer’s got him taped up with ice, might even sit out the next game if it swells.”
A flicker of worry did pass through your head, but then you shrugged, “hm, kinda sounds minor.”
Jaemin’s smirk was small, “c’mon, this is perfect for the bet. He’s all vulnerable right now, best time for you to go and play nurse, make him fall a little harder. You’re already halfway there anyway.” He bumped your shoulder lightly.
You sighed, the worry sitting heavier than you wanted to admit. Pretty bad, he’d said, “fine—I’ll check on him.”
Jaemin grinned, satisfied, “atta girl.” He peeled off toward the dorms.
You told yourself you weren’t going to bring anything. But the cafeteria line was short, and the smell of warm rice and simple broth pulled you in anyway. You ended up with a container of congee, a cold can of the original red bull, and two slightly squished steamed buns. Your hands stayed steady, but your pulse? Yeah, it didn’t.
The medical room door was halfway open. You knocked once with your elbow and stepped inside.
Jake was on the padded table, left leg propped up, ice pack soggy at the edges. His practice jersey hung open, undershirt damp against his chest, dark curls still messy and sticking to his temples. He looked tired—shoulders a little slumped, the usual bright energy dialed way down. For a second you just stood there in the doorway, and Jake’s eyes lifted to meet yours.
He gulped at the sight of you, the way a few strands of hair had slipped loose after class, the small crease between your brows that you probably didn’t even realize was there. You looked pretty like this.
Jay and Heeseung were hovering nearby. The second they saw you with the bag, they exchanged a quick glance.
Jay cleared his throat, lips twitching, “well, look who showed up.”
Heeseung pushed off the wall with a low chuckle, “we were just leaving anyway. Coach wants us back on the field.” He gave Jake’s shoulder a gentle clap. “Don’t be an idiot, yeah?” The two of them slipped out, the door clicking shut behind them and leaving the room suddenly quieter.
Jake cleared his throat, bottom lip bitten as he observed you walking closer, “I—you didn’t have to come,” he mumbled, flustered all of a sudden.
“You’re really being shy at me visiting you? Aren’t you the flirt of the campus?” You chuckled, “but yeah, heard you fucked up your ankle pretty bad, figured you’d be hungry.”
His ears flushed red, “yeah, well—I wasn’t expecting anyone here, least of all you showing up here with food,” he shifted on the padded table, wincing a little, “thanks, genuinely. I was mentally preparing myself to order takeout today.”
You set the bag on the counter, pulling out the container and a spoon, handing them over. Your fingers brushed his, absorbing the warmth of his skin, and he took the food with a grateful smile.
He peeled the lid back and took the first bite. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second. “God, this is actually really good,” he murmured, “way better than anything I would’ve scavenged later.” He ate quietly after that, the spoon scraping softly against the plastic, but every few bites his gaze lifted to you.
You dragged the plastic stool closer and sat down beside the table, elbow resting on the edge near his good leg, watching the way his throat moved when he swallowed, the small crease between his brows when he shifted his ankle, the way his damp hair fell across his forehead. He looked softer like this, stripped of the usual energy—which you had grown accustomed to.
“Does it hurt too much?” You asked.
Jake shrugged one shoulder, “throbs like a bitch when I put any weight on it. Nurse said it’s just a swelling, I’ll survive.” He took another bite, then glanced at you again, heart warm at the sight of you going out of your way to be here—even though it stemmed from Jaem’s instigations. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. I know you had a full day.”
“It wasn’t that far out of the way,” you lied, because admitting you’d gone to the cafeteria on purpose felt too revealing, “besides, someone had to make sure you didn’t try to be a hero and walk on it.”
He let out a low chuckle, “guilty, I probably would’ve.” He set the container down for a moment, fingers brushing the edge of the table near your arm. The contact was light, accidental, but it stayed there a second too long, “you’re really something else, you know that?”
You felt the heat creep up your neck but didn’t pull away, instead, you leaned in a little closer, resting your chin on your folded arms on the edge of the table, “eat the rest before it gets cold, idiot. I’m not carrying you anywhere.”
Jake grinned, small and crooked, but his eyes stayed soft on your face. He kept eating, slower now, like he was dragging the moment out. Your eyelids grew heavy. The day pressed down on you all at once—the lectures, the walking, the quiet ache of pretending this was still just part of the game. You let your head rest fully on your arms, cheek against the cool edge of the table, close enough that your breath stirred the fabric of his shirt. Just for a minute, you told yourself.
You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of his breathing, the faint scent of ginger and him all mixed together, and your eyes slipped shut completely.
Jake went completely still.
He set the spoon down without a sound and lowered himself back onto the table until he was lying flat, turning his head so he could look at you properly. You were right there—head pillowed on your arms on the edge of the table, breathing slow and even, lashes dark against your skin, lips slightly parted. A strand of hair had fallen across your face. He reached out without thinking, fingertips barely grazing it before he caught himself and pulled back.
Would it make any sense for Jake to feel this unexpected emotion he still couldn’t quite pinpoint? Maybe his friends were right, he didn’t really need to follow through with whatever the bet was about. It really wasn’t worth hurting you, or himself—but then, did you even think of him as someone close to you? Perhaps as a friend at least?
He let out a slow, shaky breath, and resorted to watching you—the way your shoulder rose and fell, the way your fingers formed a cute fist, how you let your guard down enough for your body to trust itself to fall asleep right next to him. Perhaps it was something small, yet to him, it was grand.
So, he just lay there, inches away from you, letting the silence settle as his mind spun in circles he couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Holy stalker
“So, you spent hours sleeping with him?”
“You’re literally wording it wrong Jungwon.”
“And you almost kissed right outside the dorm—”
“Can you guys stop?” You groaned, but Karina was far from done, she was just getting started actually.
“—you can’t fucking lie to us, like genuinely you were smiling when you came in yesterday and today. What’s next? Fucking him at a party?”
“Oh god—nothing is happening, what is wrong with you both?” You stand up from the couch, turning to stare at both your friends, who sat rather comfortably with their arms crossed.
“This is not nothing, I’m just asking you, what’s the end point? Where would you draw the line, hm? If it requires physicality for him to actually fall in love with you, would you do it?”
Well, Karina did have a point.
“We’re grown adults with active sex life so, why would that change anything?” You finish, almost defensive.
Karina’s eyebrows shot up so fast it was almost comical. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, that wicked grin spreading slow across her face, “oh my god, listen to you. Active sex life, babe, you haven’t had dick in months and now you’re out here acting like it’s no big deal if Jake Sim rails you for the sake of the bet? Be so fucking for real right now.”
Jungwon nearly spit out his coffee, “Rina—”
“No, no, let me speak,” Karina cut him off, waving a hand without breaking eye contact with you, “I’m not judging, I’m just saying—if he’s already got you smiling like an idiot and almost-kissing you against a wall in the rain, what’s stopping you from seeing how far it goes? You gonna let him fuck you on the kitchen counter just to watch his ego implode when you ghost him after? Because honestly? I’d pay to see that. But don’t lie to yourself and say it’s all strategy when you’re feeling that way for him.”
You felt your face burn hot, “It’s not like that. I’m not—god, I’m not planning on sleeping with him, okay? I’m still in control.”
Karina barked out a laugh, “look, I love you, but if you’re gonna play this game, at least own it, and you’re allowed to enjoy the ride before you drop him and collect our Paris trip. Just don’t catch feelings and cry to us when the car means more to him than you do.”
Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, looking equal parts amused and concerned, “she’s got a point, even if she’s saying it like a psycho. Just be careful, I still don’t trust him around you, but you’re always welcome to cry to us.”
You threw a pillow at Karina’s head. It bounced off her shoulder and she just cackled harder, “you two are the worst. Go to class before I actually kick you out.”
They finally dragged themselves up—Jungwon pulling you into a quick, tight hug and muttering, “text me if it gets weird,” before heading out, Karina pausing in the doorway to shoot you one last teasing smirk, “If you do end up letting him hit, at least make him beg first. Love you, bitch.” The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the dorm suddenly, blissfully quiet.
You let out a long breath and flopped back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Your lab had been cancelled last minute—the TA had blown up the group chat at 8:47 with some excuse about electrophoresis set up not working—and now the whole morning stretched out empty in front of you.
Too much time to think about yesterday, or the day before that, or—
Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, thankfully breaking the train of your thoughts. You grabbed it lazily, expecting another spam message from the group chat. Instead it was an Instagram DM.
jake.sim:
hey
didn’t have your number so i figured i’d slide in here like a normal person instead of showing up at your door like a creep
Your lip twitched, just a smidge, because of course Jake would find your instagram and text out of nowhere.
you:
hi
and you still managed to sound like a creep anyway
The three dots popped up instantly, like he’d been waiting with his phone in his hand.
jake.sim:
fair actually
listen, random question
is your oven working? mine’s been dead for two days and i’m craving something sweet
You stared at the screen, thumb hovering. Of course he had friends with working ovens. Half the football house probably had better kitchens than you did. But he was asking you, specifically.
you:
yeah it works
why
jake.sim:
can i come bake a cake at your place?
i’ll bring everything
just wanna spend time with you, if that’s cool
Your stomach did a stupid little flip, and you groaned. What have you even come to?
you:
sure
door’s unlocked if you’re fast enough
Twenty minutes later there was a soft knock. You opened it to find Jake standing there in his black hoodie and grey sweats, hair still a little damp from a shower, maybe. Arms full of grocery bags, and he looked unfairly good, but when he shifted the bags higher on his arm you caught the tiniest wince in his leg. He hid it fast with that easy grin.
“Hey,” he breathed out, staring at just how comfortable you looked in shorts, “thanks for letting me invade, i come bearing burgers to show my gratitude.”
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to ignore the way his eyes dragged down your bare legs for half a second before snapping back up, “didn’t you say you wanted a cake?” You raised your eyebrow.
His grin turned a little sheepish, “cake’s the whole point, yes. Burgers are just—extra, i saw you eating this with Jungwon two days back so—”
“So you are a stalker—”
“Just observant,” he finished quickly, stepping inside as you moved out of the way. The door clicked shut behind him and he realized that your flatmates were not home, leaving the place to you and him, “not in a creepy way though.”
You just nodded, as if humouring him, eyes fixed on his hands—which were veiny as hell somehow—unpacking the stuff including flour, sugar, eggs, and well, every ingredient needed for a good cake, before giving you a burger (he got two extras, just in case).
Hopping on the edge of the counter, you unwrapped the burger as he took all the bowls out with you pointing around the cabinets. The room itself was silent but his eyes? Pretty shameless, you’d admit, because his focus was more on your ridden shorts than the flour.
Jake caught himself after a second, lips twitching like he knew exactly what he was doing, “you really gonna sit there and not help me?”
You took a bite of the burger, chewing slowly while holding his gaze, “you’re the one who begged to come over and use my oven. Eyes on the bowl, Jake.”
He laughed under his breath, and went back to the flour, but the glance he stole at your legs was anything but subtle, “easier said than done when you’re sitting right there looking like that,” he mumbled to himself as he started scooping ingredients, movements smooth despite the way he kept most of his weight on his left leg, “pass me the sugar?”
You did so without getting down. He reached past you anyway, arm brushing the side of your thigh, and didn’t pull back right away. When you finally slid off the counter to actually help, he didn’t give you much space, he handed you the whisk and stepped right behind you, chest brushing your back as he reached around to adjust your grip on the handle.
“Easy circles,” he murmured, voice dropping close to your ear, “you can be gentle with it, y’know?”
Be gentle with me—is what he wished to say, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how much he enjoyed your grumpiness as well, and he was almost eager to find what more you had to offer.
His hand stayed over yours, so warm and steady, the other settled lightly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your tank top to brush bare skin. You could feel every small shift of his body against yours, the clean scent of his hoodie mixing with the butter and vanilla already in the air.
“You’re crowding me,” you said, dry but not moving away.
“Am I?” His thumb traced one slow line along your hip, “didn’t hear you telling me to back up.”
You elbowed him lightly, feeling lightheaded, because it was odd how he actually achieved to bring out your playful side in what? Fourteen days since his bet started. But it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, “focus on the cake, not my legs.”
He leaned in, “trying and failing pretty badly.” His thumb traced one slow circle on your hip, right where your tank top had ridden up, and your pulse jumped harder. The touch was light, but it felt deliberate, like he was testing how long you’d let him stay this close.
The banter stayed easy after that, but every word felt—crazy. He teased you about not knowing how to bake (you actually didn’t). You told him he was being annoyingly precise for a guy who claimed he just wanted to hang out. Finally the batter came together, perfectly thick, smooth, and chocolatey. You scraped it into the pan he’d already greased, and Jake slid it into the oven without a word. He set the timer, then turned to you, leaning against the counter with that crooked grin.
“Twenty-five minutes,” he said, eyes flicking over you again, “think we can behave ourselves till then?”
You raised an eyebrow, still catching your breath from how close he’d been, “you’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.”
Before he could answer, you flicked a leftover pinch of cocoa at his cheek—light, almost absentminded, but enough to leave a small dark smudge, shocking yourself at the easiness of it all.
Jake blinked, then his grin turned wild, “oh, it’s like that?”
He scooped a small handful of leftover flour from the counter and flicked it right back at you. It exploded in a soft white cloud across your tank top and collarbone. You gasped, eyes widening, and retaliated instantly—grabbing more flour and tossing it at his chest. Another puff burst between you, dusting the front of his black hoodie and catching in his hair.
“Seriously?” He laughed, already scooping more, “you started it, babe.”
You tried to duck behind the island, but the kitchen was tiny and he was faster, even with the slight limp. He caught you around the waist mid-step, pulling you back as he flung another handful. Flour went everywhere—exploding in soft bursts across your arms, your hair, the counter. You twisted in his hold, laughing despite yourself, and managed to smear a streak of cocoa down his cheek before he spun you again.
He couldn’t explain it, but having you laugh so freely in his presence—him making you laugh, yeah, it felt pretty damn good, and this smile was way better than you had given Jungwon in the earlier days of Jake chasing you—not that he was comparing (he was).
Your back hit the edge of the counter, both of you breathing harder now, covered in white powder and cocoa streaks. His hands stayed locked on your waist, thumbs pressing in, meanwhile yours ended up fisted in the front of his hoodie, pulling without thinking. Flour clung to his lashes, dusted his hair, streaked across his jaw. Your heart was hammering, butterflies rioting in your stomach, every inch of you hyper-aware of how close he was, how warm his body felt through the thin layers between you.
“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes dropping straight to your mouth, “you’ve got flour on your lip.”
“So do you,” you whispered.
Jake didn’t wipe it away. He leaned in slow, giving you every chance to stop him. Your breath caught again, but you closed the last inch anyway.
His lips were just as soft as they appeared to be, but more hungry than you could fathom, or manage. It felt consuming, the way his mouth moved against yours with this urgency but also a silent battle of him holding back. A low sound rumbled in his chest when your lips parted, granting his tongue the excess it so desperately craved.
It slid in slow, tasting faintly of the bitter cocoa and flour, your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you were sure he could feel it. Butterflies erupted low in your stomach, fluttering all around hard enough, it made your thighs press instinctively around his hips.
Bet. Bet. Bet.
The words flashed sharp in the back of your mind, but it dissolved rather quickly when Jake’s hand slid higher under your tank top, palm hot and rough against the bare skin of your back, fingers spreading wide as if he was trying to cover the expanse of your skin. His other hand stayed locked at your waist, thumb digging in just enough to anchor you against him while he kissed you deeper—slower, learning the shape of your mouth.
Everything else was forgotten for both him and you. All that existed was the warmth of his body pressed flush to yours, the faint scratch of his hoodie against your arms, the way his breath hitched when you tugged harder at the front of it.
“Yeah—fuck, like that,” he murmured against your lips, “kiss me back harder, c’mon, pretty.”
And so you did, tongue sliding against his in a messy push-pull that made his breath hitch, “you came over here to bake a cake,” you managed between kisses, sarcastic even as your hips rolled forward to meet his, “not to end up grinding on me in my kitchen.”
Jake laughed low against your mouth, the sound wrecked, and pressed his hips forward harder, letting you feel exactly how hard he was getting through his sweats, “pretty sure you started the flour fight, sweetheart. Don’t act like you weren’t waiting for this.” He kissed you deeper, tongue stroking yours in a filthy rhythm while he ground against you slow and deliberate, the friction pulling a sharp breath from you, “there, yeah. Feel that? That’s what you do to me every time you look at me like that, so fucking pretty.”
“Shut up,” you shot back, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to make him groan, then soothing it with your tongue. You rocked your hips right back into his, matching his pace, “you talk too much.”
He grinned against your mouth, that cocky little curve you could feel more than see, and rolled his hips again, slower this time, dragging right where it made your breath catch, “and you fucking love it.” His hand tightened on your waist, holding you steady as he kept that steady, grinding rhythm, “but keep doing that with your hips—yeah, baby, just like that—fuck.”
The oven timer went off, making you realize exactly how much time you’d devoted to this unholy activity.
You both froze, foreheads pressed together, chests heaving. His lips were swollen, eyes dark and glassy, breath hot against your mouth. Jake let out a rough, breathless chuckle, still holding you close, thumb stroking slow circles on your waist like he couldn’t stop touching you, “cake’s done.”
You dropped your head to his shoulder, a quiet laugh escaping you too, “this is insane.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, lips brushing your temple before he kissed the corner of your mouth once, lingering for a few seconds, then helped you slide down off the counter, hands steady on your hips the whole way, like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment slip away.
It felt too—intimate, not that the act of making out wasn’t on par, it clearly was, but this? It carried more emotion than just your everyday lust.
While the cake cooled on the rack, he prepared the frosting, letting everything take place before he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a small box of candles, trying to focus on regulating his breathing, and you started with your eyebrows lifted.
“Candles? For a random cake?”
He shrugged, cheeks going a little pink under the flour, “It’s for you, actually. Kinda a thank you? You sat with me after the practice when my leg was fucked, nobody else would’ve stuck around like that. Figured I owed you something sweet.”
You stared at him for a second, because this felt too genuine again, “Jake, that’s—”
“Crazy?” He laughed softly, lighting the candles anyway. They flickered golden in the morning light, “yeah, maybe. But you make me want to do crazy shit.”
You shook your head, the word “dork” slipping out quiet and fond before you could stop it. He just grinned, making you blow the candles, and yet again, you indulged in his theatrics before he managed to cut two big slices, sliding one over to you.
The cake was actually perfect, and it was clear that there wasn’t anything Jake Sim couldn’t do, maybe he couldn’t make you fall for him, but even you weren’t too sure, granted that you’d been smiling, and it wasn’t fake by any means. You took a bite and hummed in surprise, Jake watched you the whole time with a satisfied look on his face.
Then he scooped a bit of frosting onto his finger and held it out, eyes locked on yours, “here—try it this way.”
You leaned in and took it off his finger with your lips, slow. His breath hitched hard, and when you pulled back, he brought the same finger to his own mouth and licked the rest off, shameless and unhurried, tongue dragging over the pad like he was tasting you instead of frosting.
“Fuck,” he murmured, stepping close again, hands finding your waist like they belonged there, “you’re gonna kill me, YN.”
If domesticity with you felt like this, then Jake swears he can give up his parties just to spend an extra minute holding you close to his heart—which never lied. Jake was never dumb, not even now. He had always been quick to acknowledge his feelings, which screamed at him that nothing else mattered in this moment, just him and you. When you started to look in his eyes again, you gulped.
Because all that existed was him looking at you like this was exactly where he wanted to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Redbull gives you wings
“The fuck?”
Jay frowned, staring at his best friend.
The sight was diabolical to say the least, the smile on Jake’s face despite it all—idiotic. There was no way to describe it, at least for Jay, who couldn’t fathom what absurd war Jake had gotten into to return back home with flour on his hair and body, and wait was that a Tupperware full of chocolate cake in his hands?
Jake didn’t bother with explanations, simply dropping the box on Jay’s lap, courtesy of you packing some up saying how he’d managed to make way too much for a single person.
With how loud Jay’s voice had been, Sunghoon and Heeseung managed out come out of their rooms, equally as confused.
“Explain,” Sunghoon muttered, sitting next to Jay and grabbing a piece of cake.
“Nothing really, i just went to bake a cake with Y/N,” he managed to let out, still dazed.
“And she decided to maul you with flour?” Heeseung winced, brushing some power off of Jake’s hair, “seems like you lost the fight.”
“C’mon, she started it, so of course I didn’t stop at that—and things, uhm, escalated.”
Right then, Hoon took a big bite of the sweet, regret clear on his face, nose wrinkling, “what the fuck, dude—there’s a whole patch of raw flour in the middle.”
Well, that batch was put in after the flour fight, which would explain the quality difference.
Heeseung, who had already taken a forkful, shrugged and kept eating happily, “tastes fine to me. A bit lumpy, but the chocolate fixes it.”
Jay refused to touch it, not being polite in the way he pushed the whole container towards Heeseung, “yeah, I’m not eating that. And why do you look like you just got laid?”
Jake rubbed a hand over his jaw, the corners of his mouth still curved up, “we may have gotten a little distracted after the cake went in the oven.”
Heeseung choked, “distracted, how?”
Jake shrugged, not even trying to hide how pleased he was, “by kissing—a lot, oh god it felt good.”
Jay dragged both hands down his face, “you went over there to make her fall for you and ended up making out with her in the kitchen? Jake, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve barely looked at any other girl in weeks.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He just picked up a piece of the slightly floury cake and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully even though it really wasn’t that great.
“I’m thankful though, I can finally sleep without having to hear moans each fucking night,” Heeseung shudders, mind drifting back to how loud Jake and his night partners used to be.
Sunghoon barked out a laugh, “yeah, we went from daily noise complaints to peaceful silence. Did you catch feelings or did she put her tear drop into the cake batter?”
“Shut up, it’s not like that,” Jake mumbled, though the tips of his ears turning red said otherwise, “and we’re not in Descendants.”
They all just stared at him, till he managed to huff, sitting down on the couch which offered no space to him, dirtying it in the process, “it’s just—it’s nice, okay? I don’t have to be loud or use up all my energy around her, it feels calm to be there even in silence.”
Jay almost gagged, “calm? Did you just change your whole personality cause you’re in love now?”
Sunghoon was grinning, “next thing you know he’ll be holding her hand on campus and calling her baby in public, and trust, I’ll be documenting every bit of it.”
Jake threw a small piece of cake at him, missing on purpose, “you guys are annoying as hell. Can we talk about something else?”
The boys kept teasing him for a few more minutes—throwing in dramatic predictions about Jake turning into a full boyfriend and suggestions to get him a I’m in my soft era shirt before finally letting it go and arguing about tomorrow’s practice instead. Jake just leaned back on the couch, half-listening, the small smile never quite leaving his face.
Because he knew things had changed, and so did you. It was a gradual shift, from you tolerating Jake’s presence to enjoying it (well, some part of you did at least). The idea of seeing him often didn’t make you groan in agony, it felt like a routine granted Jake had your schedule memorized to his bones, and he made it his mission to randomly appear and fall in step with you without making it awkward.
“Hey, got you some coffee,” he’d naturally say, always bringing the latte, but he did make you try out an overly sweet drink which he fancied, and somehow, you didn’t hate it.
It was concerning to say the least, your friends being more concerned than you, but of course no one was blind to the fact that maybe Jake was more deep in this than you were, and that bit was not an act, not anymore at least.
It only escalated when one afternoon, you showed up at his practice session without him having you ask, a cold can of coconut berry red bull tucked in your bag. When you tossed it his way, his whole face lit up and he stared at you with such warmth, it seemed like his eyes were shining. It wasn’t a big deal, right?
Wrong. Jake knew it didn’t take a lot to do something for others, but you’d noticed his favourite flavour—you’d managed to remember it despite him having not mentioned it.
He was glad it was break time, cause he immediately cracked it open, “you remembered?”
You wanted to slap yourself for how hard it was to not smile at him, so you managed a shrug, “yeah, not a big deal.”
He stepped closer, still in his practice jersey, hair slightly damp from running drills, and you noticed how they’d grown longer, the afternoon sun catching on the sharp line of his collarbone. For a second he just looked at you, “it’s a big deal when you do it.”
The way he said it was enough to send a warm flutter through your chest that you quickly tried to ignore. You crossed your arms, pretending to watch the team stretching behind him, “don’t make it weird, Sim.”
“I’m not,” he replied, but the small grin tugging at his lips said otherwise. He took another sip, eyes never really leaving your face, and he swore, it was the best drink he’d ever had.
It almost felt like you were flying in the moment, as cheesy as it might be, maybe you’d blame redbull for giving you wings or whatever.
There were other small things too. He started saving you the quiet corner seat in the library because he knew you liked your back to the wall. You’d gotten him a hair tie when you noticed the length of his hair again, and the second he tied his hair, even you were rendered speechless for a moment.
The way it exposed the clean line of his jaw and the sharp cut of his cheekbones made something in your stomach tighten unexpectedly. You quickly looked back down at your notes, pretending you hadn’t noticed, oh but he noticed, and leaned in till his nose brushed against yours, “how do i look?” he’d asked.
“Good,” you remember breathing out, making him smile and lean in further, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before jogging back to the field, where three of his friends stood with their mouths hung open. It was a rather comical sight for anyone who watched from a distance.
At least to Jaemin, it was. He was always lurking around, and no one knew what he was trying to achieve. Jeno could only shake his head standing beside him, but well.
Anyway, as if that wasn’t enough, Jake would send you random memes at 2 a.m. when he knew you were still up studying, and you’d reply with a dry “go to sleep” that always made him smile at his phone like an idiot.
Jake had truly forgotten about the bet.
The whole stupid game barely crossed his mind anymore. He wasn’t playing anymore. He just wanted to be around you.
You were trying to bury the memory of the bet deep inside too. Every time it tried to creep up, you shoved it back down. You told yourself you were still in control, that this was all part of the plan. But the truth was simpler and scarier—you liked having him around. You liked the easy quiet when you studied together. You liked the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
And that terrified you more than anything.
CHAPTER NINE: Jealousy allegations?
“Are you like a hundred percent sure?”
You sighed, plopping on your bed with ease as you stared at Karina, who’d asked you this question at least, give or take, a million times.
“Yes, I am sure—gosh, you gotta stop,” you mumbled, running a hand over your skirt, while Karina shook her head.
“Trust me I have a feeling that something will happen tonight,” she exasperated for the nth time.
Jake was finally throwing that party he’d mentioned after his game a few days back, and to Heeseung courtesy, it wasn’t a small gathering anymore, but a full blown party at their dormitory which won’t even fit the amount of people he’d invited.
“What would happen? C’mon, I’m really okay,” you tried to reason.
“Okay? Girl, you’re practically beaming, and you got ready before I did, is that not proof enough?” She went on, doing her eyeliner by side, “you look hot as hell in that skirt by the way, I’ll be praying for Jake.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. The black skirt sat high on your waist, paired with a simple fitted top that showed just enough skin, and most importantly—you felt confident about yourself, which just completed the look altogether.
“Whatever. Let’s just go before I change my mind.”
Jungwon was already ready and waiting outside, and so you three went on as they both kept mumbling warnings in your ear, as if a child going outside alone for the first time.
“Seriously, if he gets weird just text me,” Jungwon said, half-joking.
Karina bumped your shoulder. “Or I’ll drag you out myself. I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.”
You just shook your head and kept walking.
The dorm was loud when you stepped inside, music playing from the living room and voices overlapping in every corner. The place smelled like pizza and cheap beer (of course), the usual Saturday night mess. People were everywhere—some chilling on the couches, others crowding the kitchen for drinks.
You hadn’t even taken three steps before Jake spotted you.
He was mid-conversation with Jay near the counter, cup halfway to his mouth, when he froze. His eyes locked on you and stayed there, dragging slowly from your face down to the skirt and back up again. For a second he looked completely thrown, like someone (you) had knocked the air out of him. Then he was moving, crossing the room in a straight line without saying a word to anyone, and Jay only shook his head with a small smile.
The second he reached you he pulled you into a hug.
His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand splaying across your lower back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He buried his face in your hair for a long moment, breathing you in like he needed it. You felt his chest rise and fall against yours, warm and solid, completely forgetting your friends who tried to process the situation from a respectful distance.
“Fuck,” he muttered into your hair, voice low and rough, “you look—I don’t even know what to say right now.”
You laughed softly against his shoulder, letting yourself relax into the hug, “hi, Jake.”
He didn’t let go right away. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on your back, almost absentminded, and when he finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were darker than usual, a little dazed, “you’re actually trying to kill me tonight, huh?”
You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile, “It’s just a skirt.”
“It’s not just a skirt,” he said, voice quieter. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing the edge of the fabric like he couldn’t help it.
You were about to tease him some more when he finally loosened his hold, stepping half a step back so he could actually look at you properly. His eyes flicked down again, then back up, and he let out a small breath like he was trying to collect himself.
That was when Sunoo wandered over from the kitchen, two cups in hand, spotting you both.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sunoo said, voice bright and easy like it always was in lab, “you actually came. I was starting to think you’d bail after that nightmare protocol we had last night.”
You turned toward him with a small laugh, “yeah, I almost did, Karina basically dragged me here,” you lied easily.
Sunoo grinned, holding out one of the cups, “here, sprite with lime. I know you hate the sweet crap they make in the kitchen.”
Jake raised his brow, almost ready to scoff because you did like sweet drinks, and whoever this man was clearly didn’t know you enough.
“Thanks,” you said, taking it, “needed that, the last lab almost killed me too.”
“Tell me about it,” Sunoo replied, leaning casually against the wall, “I spent twenty minutes trying to fix my gel after it kept tearing. Thought the TA was gonna cry with me.” He glanced at your outfit and nodded appreciatively. “By the way, that skirt looks really good on you. Way better than the lab coat.”
You let out a soft laugh, “appreciate it. Lab coat does no one any favors.”
Sunoo chuckled, “right? Anyway, how’s your presentation prep going? You were stressing about the lack of research papers ast class—”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jake’s hand tighten slightly on your waist. He hadn’t moved away completely, still standing close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
Across the room, Karina caught your eye from where she was standing with Jungwon near the couch. She raised her brows in a clear what the hell look, while Jungwon just shook his head slowly, arms crossed like he was already bracing himself. Jay, leaning against the kitchen counter with Heeseung and Sunghoon, muttered something that made all three of them glance over. Heeseung smirked, while Sunghoon shook his head again, amused. Jaemin, kicked back on the armchair nursing a drink, was outright grinning like he’d hit the jackpot.
Sunoo kept talking, completely unaware, asking a casual question about the upcoming quiz. You answered easily, laughing at the right moments because talking to Sunoo was just—simple? He was the same bubbly guy from lab who always offered to share notes honestly.
Jake’s jaw ticked though, he wasn’t happy with this situation at all.
After another minute of the easy back-and-forth, Jake’s hand slid firmly from your waist to your lower back.
“Hey,” he said to Sunoo, voice calm but edged, “mind if I steal her for a second?”
Sunoo blinked, then gave an easy, unbothered smile, “yeah, of course. Nice catching up, Y/N.”
Jake didn’t bother waiting really. His hand stayed steady on your lower back as he guided you through the living room, weaving between people chatting and laughing. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the way they pressed a little harder than necessary against the fabric of your top. He didn’t say a word the whole way down the hallway. The party noise faded behind you, turning into a muffled hum.
The second his bedroom door clicked shut, Jake turned to face you, eyes dark, stepping in close, backing you up until your shoulders hit the door. His hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your head just slightly to the side.
“Ignoring me the second he came in to talk, hm?” He asked, voice low as his breath ghosted over your neck as he leaned in, lips barely brushing the skin just below your ear, “looking this good while doing so?”
You swallowed, “Jake, he was just—”
He cut you off by pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss right under your jaw. You felt his teeth graze lightly, then the warm drag of his tongue.
“Answer me,” he murmured against your skin, voice smug, “what was so funny?”
Your breath hitched, “It—it wasn’t anything, just talking about the lab—”
He simply granted you another kiss, slower this time, right by your pulse. His hand slid down to grip your waist, holding you in place as he sucked lightly on the same spot.
“You stuttered,” he said, the words warm against your neck, you could hear the smirk in his voice, “so fucking cute.”
You let out a shaky laugh, even as heat pooled low in your stomach, “you’re actually jealous right now, aren’t you?”
Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, not waiting as he leaned in and kissed you on the mouth—soft at first, almost sweet, like he was trying to shut you up gently. It didn’t last, the kiss deepening fast, his tongue sliding against yours until you were gripping his shirt tighter.
When he broke it, he was breathing harder, “yeah, I am. I don’t like watching you smile at someone else when I’m standing right there.”
You opened your mouth to tease him again, but he kissed you once more, firm, before you could get the words out.
“See?” He muttered against your lips, smirking, “try and be bratty if you want me to kiss you stupid.”
“Jake—” you started, voice already breathy.
He cut you off with another kiss, this one deeper, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a second.
“Keep going,” he chuckled, “tell me how ridiculous I’m being.”
You tried, you did, “you’re being ridiculous. Sunoo was just—”
Jake’s mouth was on your neck again, sucking a slow, wet mark right below your ear. You gasped, fingernails digging in his skin now.
“Wrong name coming out of your pretty lips, baby, try again,” he murmured, kissing the fresh mark.
“You’re fucking jealous,” you managed to say despite his previous confirmation of the same. Maybe you wanted to hear it again, maybe you wanted to feel the conviction of truth behind those words, the reality of it all.
He kissed your lips hard, swallowing the rest of your sentence, then moved back down to your neck, sucking another mark lower this time.
“Yeah,” he admitted yet again against your skin, “I hate it—hate how easy it was for him to make you laugh like that when it took me days.”
Your head tipped back against the door with a soft thud. He kept going—kissing, sucking, marking you up like he needed to claim every inch Sunoo had made you smile at. Every bratty little comment you tried to throw at him earned you another kiss on the mouth or a deeper suck on your neck until your legs were actually trembling.
Finally Jake straightened up, eyes hungry. Without a word he bent down, hooked his arms under your thighs, and lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you the few steps to his bed and laid you down.
To have you so close to him was a maddening experience, words leaving his lips with ease, “you’re beautiful, you know that?”
Somewhere between the bet and the reality, you started getting used to his blatant sincerity he put into words. But this praise? It made you sigh blissfully, eyelids fluttering close despite not wanting to be separated from the sight of Jake getting closer to where you needed him the most.
He crawled over you, settling between your legs, and kissed you again—slow and deep this time.
“Still think I’m ridiculous?” He asked against your mouth, hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher.
You nodded, breathless, “very.”
Jake grinned, that same smug, jealous little smile, and kissed you once more before moving lower. He took his time with your neck again, sucking fresh marks while his hands worked your skirt up around your hips. When he reached the lace edge of your panties he paused, thumb brushing over the delicate fabric.
“These are pretty,” he murmured, hooking his fingers in them and slowly dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside somewhere, taking a note to pick it up later.
Then he settled between your thighs properly, spreading them wider. He looked up at you, hair falling messily around his face from the small ponytail, eyes gleaming as he mumbled the praises of your beauty as if he was here to worship your being instead of what seemed to be a punishment for making him jealous.
“Still got something smart to say?” He asked.
You opened your mouth, but the second his tongue dragged over you, slow and so perfectly warm—the words turned into a broken moan.
Jake groaned at the taste of you, the sound vibrating right against your clit. You reached down without thinking, fingers finding the hair tie at the back of his head. You pulled it out, letting his dark hair fall loose, then slid your hand into it and tugged hard.
Jake moaned louder against you, the vibration making your hips jerk.
“Fuck—do that again,” he breathed, voice wrecked.
You did, tugging on his hair as he ate you out like he had all the time in the world—long, deep licks followed by quick flicks of his tongue that had your thighs shaking around his shoulders. Every pull on his hair earned you another low groan that went straight through you.
“C’mon, tell me how it feels,” he spoke against you, and you groaned merrily.
It’s not that you didn’t have any experience before, because you did. But never once a guy made you feel like they actually cared about getting you off rather than them chasing their own pleasure. Their flick of tongues did nothing, but Jake? He seemed like even having his whole face pressed against you wasn’t enough, as if nothing could satiate how desperate he was to have not a molecule of space between you two.
A lot of things were in your mind, but you could only manage to choke out a few words, “so good—baby, it feels so good.”
If Jake hadn’t already lost his damn mind, your nickname certainly made him lose the last few of his working brain cells. The moan he let out was downright pornographic, and you could swear there wasn’t a sound prettier than that.
You were completely gone, back arching off the bed, fingers tight in his hair, lost in the wet heat of his mouth and the smug little sounds he kept making against you.
While you were wrapped up in this little bubble of unadulterated pleasure, outside the things were a bit different as Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon stood together, shaking their heads.
“He really just dragged her straight to his room,” Jay muttered.
Heeseung sighed, “not even trying to be subtle anymore.”
Sunghoon smirked, “a hundred fucking pounds says they don’t come out for a while.”
Karina, standing with Jungwon near the couch, crossed her arms and muttered, “I knew something was gonna happen tonight.”
Jungwon just sighed, looking resigned, “this is exactly what I was worried about.”
Jaemin, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair with the biggest grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself.
“This is even better than I planned.”
CHAPTER TEN: Bet versus feelings.
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
The voice seemed to have echoed, because the same sentence was being uttered at the exact same second inside two different dorms, by two different people.
First being Jungwon, clearly directed towards you once you were done giving your side of the story to him.
Jake was undergoing the exact same procedure of questioning, causing Jay to scream in agony.
Things were clearly going perfectly, Jake was in too deep, you were in too deep, all for the bet, right? Right?
Because as far as acting was concerned, even it had limits, which certainly didn’t include getting eaten out and fingered all night. Cherry on the top was when you both fell asleep in each other’s arms with Jake caressing your back so gently, you learned the meaning of comfort in its truest scene.
So, why did it feel so easy when Jake kissed you in the morning, when he walked you back home with ease, talking normally as if everything was fine. Your heart broke a little at the thought of him just using you, and trust was a delicate topic for you. How could you even let yourself think that he actually wanted you when the whole relationship of yours was built on a pathetic bet. Which is why, you let yourself fall in deeper, to feel more of his warmth before it ends.
Before he could ask what was bothering you, a gentle kiss was placed on his lips, “bye, Jakey.”
The simple fact that you initiated the kiss had Jake smiling like an idiot before you walked inside your dorm, and he left for his own, heart thumping fast, almost in a way that it was synchronized.
And now you were here, eyes watering in front of your friends who could only pull you in a deep hug.
“Y/N, just tell him, just end this I swear,” Jungwon mumbled, and you didn’t know what to say, so you resorted to hugging them both till you fell asleep again.
Jake on the other hand—he couldn’t stop pacing around as the three watched him like a hawk, eyes moving in sync with every step he took across the living room.
Jay leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, looking way too smug, “I told you you’d fall for her.”
Jake stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped, “I didn’t fall. I’m not—fuck, okay maybe I did, but shut up.”
Sunghoon let out a loud laugh, slapping his knees “you dragged her into your room in front of everyone. You’re on your knees for her at this point.”
Heeseung was already cracking up, head thrown back, “the way you looked at Sunoo? Pure murder like, he didn’t even do shit.”
Jake groaned, running his fingers through his hair, “you guys are the worst. I was standing right there and she was laughing with him like it was the easiest thing in the world. I hate it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, “you hate it? Or you’re jealous as hell?”
“Both,” Jake muttered, then dramatically dropped to his knees right in the middle of the living room, forehead hitting the floor with a thud, “I’m so fucked. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Jay let out a loud laugh, leaning forward on the couch, “wrong? It’s literally called love, Jake.”
“On your knees in the living room because a girl, you’re not yours by the way, smiled at someone else? Yeah, you’re fucked.” Sunghoon added helpfully.
Heeseung clapped slowly, “soft boy Jake is real. We’re witnessing history.”
Jake stayed on the floor for a second, breathing hard, face pressed against the carpet. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying last night—the way you’d gasped his name when he had his mouth on you, the way your thighs had shaken around his shoulders. How he couldn’t stop staring at you even after you came down, all soft and sleepy in his bed, lashes resting against your cheeks, lips slightly parted. You looked so beautiful like that, relaxed and trusting, nothing guarded in your expression for once. He’d kissed your forehead then, slow and careful, while you dozed off against his chest. Later, when he still couldn’t sleep, he’d grabbed his diary and sketched you—just the curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell across the pillow, the small peaceful smile you had even in sleep. It wasn’t weird. It was just—you. He needed to remember exactly how it felt.
He groaned again, louder this time, “I’m so fucked.”
“So you’ve said.”
The boys kept teasing, but Jake was already thinking ahead.
He pushed himself up, hair a mess, cheeks still flushed, “whatever. Laugh all you want, I’m gonna ask her on a proper date.”
The room went quiet for half a second, observing him closely to find out any signs of humour or a joke.
Jay blinked, “you’re serious?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, grabbing his glasses, “I’m serious.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, still amused but skeptical, “you sure that’s a good idea right now? Things are already messy as hell.”
Heeseung nodded slowly, “moving kinda fast, don’t you think?”
Jake just shrugged, the stupid smile creeping back onto his face, “I don’t care, I want to do it right.”
The problem now was that Jake had never planned a date before, heck he’d never even dated before. He knew that something grand wouldn’t work, not right now at least, so when he woke up the next day, he had a few errands to run. Thankfully, he had only one lecture, after which he found himself running around the campus with a list, more motivated thann he’d ever been.
By late afternoon he found himself standing outside the biotech building, leaning against the wall near the main exit with his hands in his pockets. He knew your schedule by heart now. When you finally stepped out, backpack slung over one shoulder, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up to you.
You stopped, surprised, but the second he pulled you into a hug your expression softened. His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand rubbing your back like he needed the contact more than air, “hey,” he mumbled into your hair.
You smiled despite everything, pressing your face into his chest for a second, “Jake? What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice right now?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist, “I skipped.”
“You skipped?” you asked, eyes widening a little.
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit awkward but determined. “I want to take you out right now, just us, if you’ll let me.”
Your heart skipped. He was being so boldly awkward about it, standing there in the middle of the hallway like skipping practice for you was the most normal decision in the world.
You teased, trying to keep your voice light, “what if I say no?”
Jake’s face fell instantly, that hurt-puppy look laughed at you right in the heart—big eyes, slight pout, shoulders slumping just a little like you’d actually kicked his favorite ball into traffic. It was funny how you could compare him to puppies so often and he didn’t seem to mind.
“Then—I guess I’ll go back to practice,” he said quietly, voice cracking at the end, “but you’re really gonna say no?”
You didn’t know what to say, skipping classes wasn’t really something you did, unless you were sick beyond your ability to stand, however, a small voice within you screamed, skipping once wouldn’t hurt, right?
You reached out and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, sending a shiver up his arm, “lead the way, Sim.”
Jake’s whole face lit up like you’d just handed him the world, and maybe you did. He squeezed your hand once, tight, and started walking, pulling you gently along with him.
You walked side by side across the quad, the late afternoon sun warm on your skin. His thumb kept brushing slow circles over your knuckles, and the simple touch felt so grounding, so comfortable.
“Where are we going?” You asked after a minute, glancing up at him.
Jake grinned, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “It’s a secret.”
You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips, “you’re really not gonna tell me anything?”
“Nope,” he said, voice light and playful, “just trust me, okay?”
From a distance near the science building, Heeseung stood watching the two of you with a small smile, “they’re already acting like a couple,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head fondly.
When you reached the parking lot, Jake stopped in front of a sleek black car you didn’t recognize.
You looked back at Jake, “wait—you drive?”
Jake grinned, a little cocky as he opened the passenger door for you, “yeah, borrowed it from Jay. Figured walking you around campus wasn’t gonna cut it today.”
You slid in, the leather seat cool against the back of your thighs. Jake got in on the driver’s side, started the engine, then turned to you, looking a little nervous but hopeful.
“So, uh, what’s your favourite flower?” He asked, voice casual but his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.
You raised your brow, surprised by the question, “Tulip, why?”
Jake let out a small, relieved breath. He reached into the backseat and pulled out three bouquets—a bright bunch of fresh tulips, a classic dozen roses, and a smaller mixed one with daisies and soft white flowers.
He handed them to you carefully, almost shy, “I wasn’t sure which ones you liked, so I got a few options. Just in case, thank god you chose one of those—”
You stared at the flowers in your lap, heart squeezing so hard it almost hurt. He had gone out and bought three different bouquets because he didn’t want to get it wrong, for you.
Before you could stop yourself, you leaned across the console and kissed him midway through his nervous ramble.
It was soft and grateful at first, but Jake melted instantly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek like he needed to hold onto the moment. When you pulled back, his eyes were a little dazed, lips parted, that stupid, lovestruck smile back on his face.
“God,” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
You laughed softly, cheeks warm, and settled back into your seat with the bouquets still cradled in your lap. Jake grabbed your hand again, lacing your fingers together on the center console like he couldn’t stand not touching you.
He started driving, thumb still tracing slow circles over your knuckles, stealing little glances at you every few seconds like he still couldn’t believe you were here with him.
You were so fucked, and now, you didn’t even care.
The drive was short, just ten minutes out of campus to a quiet spot by the river. You’d passed it a few times before, always packed with students on weekends, but on a weekday afternoon it was practically empty—just the soft rush of water, a few birds, and the warm sun filtering through the trees.
Jake parked and killed the engine, then turned to you with that soft smile you’d grown to love, “wait here.”
He got out, popped the trunk, and came around to your side with a big picnic basket and a folded blanket. You watched him spread the blanket on a sunny patch of grass near the water, setting everything out with careful hands. There were little sandwiches you liked, fresh fruit, the coconut berry Red Bull he knew you’d steal from him, and even a small box of those chocolate cookies you’d mentioned once in passing.
You stepped out of the car, flowers still in your arms, feeling suddenly shy that was very out of your character, “Jake—you did all this?”
He looked up at you from where he was kneeling on the blanket, eyes bright, “yeah. Figured we deserved something nice, just us.”
You sat down beside him, cheeks warm, and he basked in it—the way you ducked your head a little, fiddling with the edge of the blanket, the small smile you couldn’t hide. He loved seeing you like this, unguarded and a little flustered because of him.
The sun got brighter as the afternoon stretched on. After you’d eaten and talked about nothing and everything, Jake stretched out and laid his head in your lap, looking up at you with those pretty eyes. No big smile this time—just quiet, almost reverent.
You reached down, fingers finding the hair tie at the back of his head, and gently pulled it out. His dark hair fell loose around his face. You slid your hand into it, playing with the strands, slow and gentle.
Jake let out a contented sigh, eyes never leaving your face.
“You know I have a dog named Layla?” He said quietly after a while, voice warm.
You smiled down at him, still running your fingers through his hair, “yeah? Tell me about her.”
“She’s a Border Collie. Super hyper, loves chasing balls, but she’s the biggest cuddler when she’s tired. She always knows when I’m having a bad day and just—sits next to me until I feel better.”
You laughed softly, “she sounds perfect.”
He hummed, eyes soft, “she is.”
Time passed easily between you. The river flowed steadily nearby, birds chirped overhead, and the sun warmed your skin. Jake told you how he loved singing but almost never did it in front of people because it felt too embarrassing. You told him how you were terrified of roller coasters and how you liked cats because they were quiet and independent. He almost gasped when you admitted you loved horror movies, cause they scared Jake half to death.
“You ever scream at the screen?” He asked, grinning up at you.
“Never,” you admitted, “do you?”
“A lot,” he mumbled, and you chuckled—that sound becoming Jake’s favourite each passing second.
Jake’s eyes stayed on your face the whole time, soft and full of something deep. He felt surreal having you like this—so close, so willing, so in love with the version of you that no one else really got to see. The way your fingers moved through his hair, the gentle way you looked down at him, it made his chest ache in the best way. It made no sense how you looked so fucking pretty even from that angle, so perfect.
At one point he reached up, hand gentle on the back of your neck, and pulled you down for a soft kiss. It was slow, sweet, full of everything you both weren’t saying yet. You got goosebumps all over, your body reacting so perfectly to him, to the quiet love blooming between you.
When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’m really glad you said yes.”
You kissed him again, softer this time, heart so full it almost hurt.
You could feel how down bad he was—the way his hand rested on your thigh like he needed the contact, the quiet reverence in his gaze every time he looked up at you, the small, content sighs he let out whenever your nails scratched lightly against his scalp. He didn’t say any of it out loud, he didn’t need to, really. It was all there in the way he looked at you.
After a while he sat up slowly, hair messy from your fingers, eyes soft and dark. Without a word he reached for you, hands gentle on your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him easily, knees on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your chin with careful fingers, tilting your face down to his.
The kiss was soft at first, full of everything that had been building between you all afternoon. His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, thumb brushing your jaw in the gentlest way.
When he pulled back he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight against his chest. You held him just as tightly, arms looped around his neck, face buried in the crook of his shoulder. You didn’t want this to end, not the warmth of him, not the steady beat of his heart against yours, not the way he made the rest of the world feel so far away.
Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, slow and lingering. You whispered his name, soft and breathless, “Jake—”
He smiled against your skin, the curve of his lips warm and pleased. Then he licked over the same spot, and your breath hitched.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, cheeks warm, “you’re terrible,” you complained, but there was no real heat in it.
Jake’s eyes sparkled with that smug little glint. Before you could say anything else he pulled you back down into a deeper kiss, filled with everything he felt—the want, the softness, the quiet desperation of someone who was completely, utterly, helplessly in love with you. His hand slid into your hair, the other pressed against your lower back, holding you close as the kiss turned slow and emotional, tongues brushing, breaths mingling, hearts beating in the same unsteady rhythm.
You melted into it, fingers curling into his shirt, losing yourself in the way he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Foggy façade.
It was the third time Jake had rerouted the car to go away from the campus, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, a pout on his plump lips as you pointed out that he was, in fact, not willing to take you home.
“I just don’t want the day to end, is that so bad?” He spoke so freely and you wondered how he got the confidence to say things like that without sounding ridiculous, his hand stayed laced with yours on the console.
“You’re literally driving in circles,” you said, squeezing his fingers, “we’ve passed that same coffee shop twice now.”
Jake glanced over at you, eyes bright even in the fading light, “worth it. Every single time I look at you I forget where I’m supposed to be going.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave you away completely, “smooth talker. Take me home, Sim, I have an assignment due tomorrow.”
He made a dramatic whining sound, slowing the car at a red light, “one more hour. Please? I’ll be good. I’ll even let you pick the music.”
You laughed, leaning your head back against the seat, even though you couldn’t deny it yourself, you didn’t wish to go back, “you’re impossible.”
The light turned green and instead of turning toward campus he took another random right, the river still sparkling in the distance behind you. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Jake.”
“What?” He asked innocently, but the grin tugging at his mouth was anything but, “I’m just—taking the scenic route.”
You were still bickering lightly when he suddenly pulled off the main road into a quiet, tree-lined side street and parked under the shade of an old oak. The engine cut off. For a second the only sound was the soft tick of the cooling car and your own heartbeat.
“Jake,” you said again, softer this time.
He turned to you fully, eyes dark and a little desperate, “I can’t stand not kissing you for one more second.”
Before you could even tease him about it, he was leaning across the console, one hand sliding into your hair as his mouth crashed into yours. The kiss was messy and urgent, like he’d been holding back the whole drive. You kissed him back just as hard, fingers curling into his shirt, the taste of the picnic strawberries still lingering on his tongue.
“Backseat,” he mumbled against your lips, already fumbling with both your seatbelts, “c’mon, baby.”
You laughed breathlessly into the kiss, “Jay’s gonna actually murder you if he finds out what we’re doing in his car.”
“Let him,” Jake grinned, nipping at your bottom lip before climbing over the console in that surprisingly smooth way he had. He tugged you with him and you tumbled into the backseat together, legs tangling, laughter bubbling up between more kisses, “totally worth getting murdered for.”
You ended up straddling his lap, your jeans rubbing against the front of his as his hands gripped your waist tight. The humping started almost immediately—slow rolls of your hips that had you both groaning at the friction. Denim on denim felt stupidly good, the thick seam of your jeans pressing right against your core every time you rocked forward.
“Fuck,” Jake breathed, head falling back against the seat as you ground down harder, “even through the jeans you feel incredible.”
You leaned down, kissing him again while you kept moving, slow and teasing, “you’re so impatient, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, smiling when he chased your lips.
“Can you blame me?” He bucked up to meet you, hands sliding under your top to grip your bare waist, “been hard since the river. Watching you play with my hair, looking so fucking pretty, I couldn’t help it.”
The laughter died down into heavier breaths and soft moans, and you fucking loved how vocal Jake was. You kept rolling your hips in lazy circles, feeling how hard and thick he was beneath you. Jake’s hands roamed higher, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, and every little sound he made went straight to your core.
Eventually you slid lower, kissing down his neck, then his chest, until you were kneeling between his legs in the cramped backseat. Your hands worked open his belt and jeans, and when you pulled him out, his cock was so big and thick it made your mouth water.
Jake let out a shaky breath, fingers gently threading into your hair, “baby, you really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you said, looking up at him. You nuzzled your cheek against the heavy length first, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along it, feeling it twitch against your skin.
“Fuck,” he groaned, low and wrecked. “Look at you—nuzzling my cock like that. So pretty.”
You licked a slow stripe from base to tip, then took the head into your mouth, sucking gently. Jake’s groan was loud, head tipping back against the seat.
“Shit—yeah, just like that,” he panted, fingers tightening in your hair but never pushing, “you look so fucking good with your lips around me.”
You took him deeper, tongue swirling every time you pulled back. He was so thick it stretched your mouth perfectly, and you loved the way he filled you.
“Jaeyun,” you moaned around him, the name slipping out soft and needy.
Jake’s whole body jerked hard, “fuck—say it again,” he groaned, voice breaking, “god, I love when you call me that. Say it again, baby, please.”
“Jaeyun,” you whispered, taking him even deeper, eyes watering a little as you looked up at him through your lashes.
He let out a wrecked sound, hips twitching up just slightly before he caught himself. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pulling, just holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the way his thighs tensed every time you hollowed your cheeks.
But then his hand slid down to your shoulder, gentle but urgent, “come here,” he breathed, voice rough, “I need you closer.”
You pulled off with a soft pop, lips shiny, and he didn’t waste a secon—he tugged you up into his lap again, hands already working your jeans open. You shoved his jeans down further, wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him slow and tight while he pushed two fingers into you without warning. The stretch made you gasp, forehead dropping to his shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered against your neck, curling his fingers just right, “all this for me?”
You nodded, breath hitching as you kept stroking him, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke. The car was getting warmer, windows starting to fog, the cramped backseat making everything feel even more intense—elbows bumping seats, knees knocking, but neither of you cared. You rocked into his hand while he fucked you with his fingers, messy and uncoordinated and perfect.
Jake’s mouth found your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned, head tilting to give him more space, and he took it, kissing, licking, biting down gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Another mark right below your ear, then one on your collarbone. He was claiming you in the quietest way possible, and it made your stomach flip.
His fingers sped up, thumb pressing against your clit, and you squeezed him tighter in response, stroking faster.
“You feel so good,” he panted, voice low and broken against your skin, “I—I can’t even think straight when you’re like this. I think I lo—”
You cut him off with a kiss, hard and desperate, swallowing whatever he was about to say. Your heart was hammering too loud, the guilt and the want twisting together until it hurt. You weren’t ready, not yet. Not when everything still felt like it was built on something you couldn’t admit out loud.
Jake groaned into your mouth, kissing you back like he understood anyway, fingers still moving inside you, thumb circling faster. You kept stroking him, messy and slick, both of you breathing hard between kisses, bodies pressed so close you could feel his heartbeat against yours.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead on yours, eyes dark and glassy, “you’re everything,” he whispered instead, the words thick, “don’t stop, baby.”
You didn’t, kissing him again, slower this time, the act so devastatingly soft, your bodies couldn’t help but react by reaching the peak of unadulterated pleasure you both provided each other with, messy and desperate, but none of you cared in the moment, enjoying the bliss of it all.
Letting the mess of feelings stay buried under the heat of his mouth.
CHAPTER TWELVE: The forgotten bet
You didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, and somehow hiding in the library was the best you could do to get away from everything you wanted to be close to. Choosing a seat which you normally didn’t opt for was even worse, and the notes in front of you seemed to be in an entirely different language when your mind was elsewhere.
But someone had this weird idea about the whereabouts of practically everyone in the campus, which is why Jaemin found you sulking in a corner, his smile as bright as ever as invited himself to sit next to you.
“Bet not going too well, I presume,” he started, breaking your train of thoughts.
That shit eating grin on his face infuriated more, and there was nothing more you wished to do than punch him at the given moment.
“What the fuck do you want?” You snapped, not even bothering to look up from the notes that might as well have been written in ancient Greek.
“Relax,” he said, leaning back like he had all day, “I come in peace. Just checking in on my favorite partner in crime.”
You finally glanced at him, jaw tight, “there’s no bet anymore. So, you can leave.”
Jaemin laughed under his breath, spinning one of your pens between his fingers, “sure looks like there is to me. I saw you two at the party, the way he dragged you into his room right in front of everyone. Then yesterday? Jay’s car parked on that quiet street for almost an hour, windows completely fogged up. Jake came back to the dorm looking like he’d just won the lottery. He’s been skipping practice, smiling at nothing, telling the guys he’s taking you on a date again very soon. He’s in deep, Y/N. Like, actually gone.”
Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew. Jaemin always knew everything that happened on campus.
He leaned in a little, voice dropping but still smug, “you’ve got him right where you want him. One more good date, a couple more nights like yesterday, and he’s gonna say it. The whole i’m in love with you speech. Then you reject him, take the Paris trip, and we both win. Easy.”
You stared at him, chest tight, “you’re actually serious right now.”
“Dead serious,” he said, grin still firmly in place. “This was your plan too, remember? Make him fall hard, then crush him. Don’t go soft on me just because he bought you three bouquets and looked at you with those puppy eyes. You’re winning. Don’t fuck it up now.”
He stood up slowly, tapping the table once with his knuckle, “think about it. He’s already forgetting the car even exists. Finish the job before it gets too messy.”
Jaemin walked off without another word, even though you did scream your answer, garnering the attention of students who weren’t pleased about it. But yes, he did leave you alone with the heavy knot in your chest and the notes you still couldn’t read.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Too good to be true
This wasn’t the plan.
Sitting in the bleachers, supporting Jake, clad in this jacket as if you were his girlfriend. To make things worse, Jake absolutely preened in showing you off, not one care about embarrassment, not when he was the one who had insisted you wear it before the game even started.
“Looks better on you than it does on me,” he’d said with that easy grin, tugging the collar straight and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead right there on the sidelines where half the team could see. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but now, with his name printed across the back in bold white letters, you felt the weight of every curious glance from the crowd.
The game was loud to say the least, Jungwon and Karina agreed, but they also silently agreed that your happiness came first, and at the moment, you looked really happy. Jake was everywhere—stealing the ball with sharp precision, setting up plays that made the stands roar, running like the field belonged to him alone. Every few minutes his eyes would flick up to the bleachers, searching until they landed on you. The second they did, his whole face would change. That bright, boyish smile would break through the concentration, and he’d give you this tiny, secret nod like you two were the only ones who understood what it meant.
“I’m not doing it,” you whispered to yourself.
Jungwon only smiled, “we know—we’ve always known.”
You turned to look at him, “how?” Somehow the question itself made you seem small, especially the possibility of Jake finding out and losing trust in you—seemed way worse.
“You try to act all tough, but we know how soft you are,” Karina spoke softly.
“And with Jake? There was no way we didn’t see this coming, you really can’t fool us,” Jungwon added with a dimpled smile, making you chuckle despite the breakdown you were going to have.
You didn’t realize how heavy the bet felt till you got it off of your chest, eyes watery as you turned to look at Jake in his element yet again, watching how he moved with ease under the burden of the timer ticking. But Jake was really good at what he did, kicking the ball straight into the net as it curled around in the corner left just as the whistle blew in the background.
You didn’t even realize you were screaming until your own voice hit your ears. You shot up fully, hands in the air, cheering so loud your throat hurt. “Yes, Jake! Go!” The words just flew out of you, completely unfiltered. Jungwon and Karina were jumping beside you, all three of you yelling like idiots.
Jake didn’t celebrate with his teammates. He broke away from the pile and ran straight for the stands, jumping the barrier in one smooth motion, and before you could even catch your breath he was right there in front of you, chest heaving, that huge, bright grin on his face.
He grabbed your waist with both hands and spun you around once, fast. Your feet left the ground, the roar of the crowd blurring into one big cheer.
“Jake!” You squeaked, laughing but instantly embarrassed as people around you whistled and shouted, “put me down—everyone’s watching—”
He didn’t listen. He spun you one more time, slower this time, eyes locked on yours like the rest of the stadium had disappeared. “Let them watch,” he said, still grinning like an idiot, “I scored that goal thinking about you, I want them to know it.”
When he finally set you back on your feet he didn’t step back. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you right there in front of everyone—deep, a little messy, his jersey was damp with sweat, his heart still hammering against yours, but the kiss felt steady.
Your face burned hot the second his lips touched yours. You could feel hundreds of eyes on you, phones probably out, people cheering and laughing, but Jake didn’t care at all. He kissed you like the crowd wasn’t even there, like this was the only thing that mattered.
When he finally pulled back just enough to rest his forehead on yours, he was breathing hard, eyes shining, “I—I, uh,” he tried to find words, but with you looking at him so sweetly, he just melted, “you’re my good luck charm.”
And gosh, you smiled, pecking him softly, reciprocating the exact feelings he’d been harbouring towards you. His teammates were yelling his name from the field, and so he left with a promise to be back soon.
It’s normal for any sane person to get scared when things feel too good to be true, exactly how they felt for you and Jake, so the flicker of worry didn’t go unnoticed by Jake after the whole team came out. When they came out of the locker rooms, hair damp and smelling like fresh soap, Jake made a face at the idea of the big victory party happening across campus.
He glanced at you, really looked at you for a second, and caught the tiny flicker of worry that crossed your face, clearing his throat, “guys, I’m tired, let’s just go to the dorm and get some food and drinks ordered in.”
Jake looked down at you again, voice softer just for you, “that cool? We can keep it small.”
You managed a small smile and nodded, “yeah. That sounds perfect, actually.”
He smiled back, the kind of relieved, soft smile that made your chest feel a little lighter, and pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “good, let’s go home then.”
Jaemin, who had wandered over to join the group at some point, grinned wide. Jeno, standing a step behind him, shot Jaemin a sharp look and shook his head once, trying to warn him without saying anything out loud. Jaemin just smirked and ignored him completely.
Jake didn’t notice. He was too busy lacing his fingers with yours again, already tugging you gently toward the dorms. It was new to you, the feeling of being held in someone’s arms—in front of everyone, as if the concept of personal space was foreign to Jake, but did you actually want him to let go of you? Absolutely not, even if you won’t admit it out loud.
Jake hadn’t let go of you once. He kept you tucked right against his side on the couch, one arm looped around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy little patterns on your arm like he couldn’t stop touching you. Every few minutes he’d lean in and press a soft kiss to your temple or the top of your head or the corner of your mouth, completely unbothered by the others being right there.
Was it really that easy to fall in so deep for someone within a month? Take yourself for example, wrapped up in Jake’s embrace, it certainly did seem true to some extent.
“You okay? You’ve been quiet since we got back, was I too much?” He asked, thumb brushing the side of your neck, a worried pout on his face.
You shook your head just a bit, “I’m just happy, you did so well out there, Jakey.”
He sighed with happiness, all worries gone in a second, “couldn’t have done it without you.”
Sunghoon groaned loudly, “dude, you’re so gone it’s painful to watch.”
Jake laughed, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, “leave me alone, man. I earned this.”
You were about to tease him back when the door swung open.
Jaemin strolled in with Jeno beside him, grabbing a slice of pizza from the nearest box and dropping onto the arm of the couch across from you, taking a big bite. His eyes flicked over the scene—Jake’s arm still wrapped around you, the way Jake was still leaning into you like he couldn’t get close enough. Jaemin’s grin sharpened.
“Damn, look at you two,” he said casually, chewing, “still going strong, huh? So Jake, did you finally drop the L-word on her yet? Cause you have two days left till the bet ends.”
You stilled, staring at Jaemin with wide eyes, just like everyone else in the room. Jeno groaned at the back cause he did try to stop Jaem, but to no avail. But it was almost as if he couldn’t pick up context cues, and so he continued, “you told her about it right? Since you’re smitten now, that’s why you’re together, right?”
“Jaemin,” Jake warned him, his hold tightening on you, “shut the fuck up.”
Jungwon and Karina were ready to take you back, almost jumping to their feet, but that’s not where Jaem stopped. Jungwon was already shifting closer on the couch until his knee pressed against yours, one hand resting lightly on your arm like he was ready to pull you out of there the second you needed it.
“What? You didn’t tell her?” He smirked, now staring right at you, “well, too fucking bad cause she already fucking knows you’re playing her for a car,” he smirked, leaning back against the couch, finally letting the drama unfold.
Your chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe. You felt the heat rush to your face, then drain away just as fast, leaving you cold. Jay was staring at the floor like it had answers. Heeseung’s hand froze around his beer. Sunghoon looked like he wanted to sink into the cushions. Karina’s eyes were wide, looking at you knowing exactly how you felt right now—especially after the nights you cried with her. Jungwon’s fingers tightened on your arm because of the same.
Of course his friends had known the whole time.
You pulled away from Jake’s arm slowly, like your body was moving through water. The walls you’d been trying so hard to keep down slammed back up, higher than before. You felt small, exposed, stupid even. Like every soft kiss, every my girl, every time he looked at you like you mattered had been watched and laughed at behind your back.
You stood up, “I knew it the whole time,” you confessed, observing just how panicked he seemed at the moment, “Jaemin told me everything at the very beginning—how you just bet on my feelings for his car,” you tried to stop yourself from getting emotional, letting a shaky breath out as Jake’s shaking hand held on to yours, “so he asked me to do the same, to show you how it hurts to play with someone’s emotions.”
His face went pale, and even though he opened his mouth, no words came out, just throbbing pain in his heart, and eyes wide as if he’d gotten punched in the gut.
Maybe him accepting it would’ve made it better, but for Jake, there wasn’t an option between fight or flight, only freezing on the spot. Everyone stayed silent, watching it unfold and Jay tried to shake Jake’s shoulders, but all he could see was your trust crumpling, and his heart breaking.
“You—you don’t actually like me?” He asked, voice breaking.
“I do—I fucking do,” your voice cracked as well, “going through with the bet was not my intention, but what about you, Jake?”
Jake’s hand, still reaching for yours, started to tremble. His mouth opened again, but nothing came out. The guilt on his face was so raw it made your stomach turn. He looked hurt—really hurt, and you weren’t sure how to feel anymore, the hypocrisy of it all sinking in deeper, making everything worse. You’d planned to use him too, you were no better. The walls around you shot up even higher at the absence of words, of reassurance.
So you asked again, “Jake, was any of it real?”
Jake finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, broken, “you—you knew the whole time?”
You nodded, a tear cascaded down the curve of your cheek freely, “yeah. I knew.”
He let out a shaky breath, like the words physically hurt him, “and you still—you let me fall for you anyway? You let me get this deep even though you knew I started it for a stupid bet? Why didn’t you tell me?”
The rise in his voice almost made you laugh, “so now you’re hurt cause I knew? After you started the whole thing for a car? That’s rich, Jake.”
Jungwon stood up right beside you, shoulder brushing yours, protective, “Y/N, you don’t have to explain anything else to him, not right now.”
“No, no—Jake just fucking tell me, is it real?” You waited for an answer, to get absolute silence in return, “Jake?”
You tried for the last time, just to find tears streaming down his flushed face, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was too in his head, cursing himself, cursing Jaeming for letting it happen, but you? How could he ever hate you?
Wiping your tears roughly, you let Karina embrace you, who kept glaring at all the boys. It wasn’t awkward for them, they felt guilty too, but knew better than to speak up in between them.
You stepped back, “fine then—I’m done, we’re done. Don’t follow me, don’t text me. Just stay the hell away from me.”
You turned toward the door. Jake shot up after you, voice cracking, “Y/N, wait—please, just let me explain—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, not turning around.
Karina was already grabbing your jacket, “c’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Jungwon stayed right at your side until you reached the door, then spun around, glaring at Jay, “you should’ve stopped him, you knew what he was doing from the start. You let him play with her feelings like it was nothing. What the fuck, Jay?”
Jay looked wrecked, never expecting Jungwon to get angry, “I tried, man. I told him it was fucked up—”
“You all knew!” Jungwon’s voice rose, “every single one of you sat there and watched her fall and didn’t say a word. That’s fucked up—you couldn’t reassure her after she told you everything, huh, Jake?”
You didn’t wait to hear more, stepping into the hallway, Karina right behind you, her hand gentle on your back,“I’ve got you,” she whispered, “just breathe, okay?”
Behind the closed door, it only got worse, Jungwon’s voice only got louder as Jay tried to explain himself.
As the boys gathered to calm down Jungwon, they completely missed the way Jake got up and headed towards Jaemin. Only the sound of a loud crash got their attention—Jake’s fist connecting with Jaemin’s jaw.
“You fucking asshole,” Jake snarled, his voice raw and broken. Another punch landed, his knuckles splitting open against Jaemin’s cheekbone. Blood smeared across his hand and dripped onto the floor. Heeseung and Sunghoon tried to pull him back, but Jake was swinging again, tears streaming down his face as he cried freely, angry and devastated all at once.
“Fucking get off me!” He shouted, his voice cracking between sobs, "this is your fault—all of it! You ruined everything!”
Furniture scraped against the floor. Someone yelled for them to stop, but it fell deaf to Jake’s ears. He kept swinging, his knuckles bleeding worse with every punch, tears falling fast down his cheeks, until Heeseung and Sunghoon finally managed to drag him back, both of them breathing hard.
Jaemin didn’t care much, he looked rather amused at the situation as Jeno tried to pull him up in furious whispers of urging him to stop being messy.
Jake stood there in the middle of the mess, shoulders shaking, blood on his hands and tears still streaming from his bloodshot eyes. He looked completely destroyed.
And you? You didn’t look back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Salvation
So maybe you did jinx yourself for thinking everything was perfect. However, it made no sense to you, or to anyone for that matter. You weren’t an expert about feelings by any means, yet it was clear to anyone with working eyes that whatever you and Jake had was far from fake.
Why couldn’t he say it?
You knew the stakes, you came clean to him, and god knows you couldn’t be mad at him for telling you that it, in fact, started off because of a bit. But the silence hurt.
“I love him,” you whispered, and Karina hugged you tighter at how raw the confession sounded.
“I know,” she mumbled, “it’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
You stayed quiet for a while, letting her hold you. The numbness had settled deep, leaving you strangely serene even as your heart ached. There were no more tears left. Just this heavy, enthralling ache that refused to let go.
Karina eventually pulled back and brushed a strand of hair from your face, “I’m gonna make you some tea, okay? I’ll be right back, yeah?”
You nodded mutely and watched her head to the small kitchenette. The soft clink of the kettle and mugs filled the room as you sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.
Karina was busy with the kettle as a knock came at the door, making her pause her ministrations. She walked over and opened the door just a crack, hoping it’d be Jungwon.
It was Jake.
He looked utterly destroyed. His eyes were bloodshot and had started to swell from crying, cheeks still damp with fresh tears. His knuckles were split open and bleeding, dark red smeared across his hand and the sleeve of his hoodie. He was breathing hard, like he’d run the entire way here without stopping.
Karina’s eyes widened in horror, “Jake—what the hell happened to your hands?”
He didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed past her shoulder, desperately searching for you, “please,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken. Without waiting, he slowly lowered himself to his knees right there in the hallway, bloody hands clasped in front of him, “please, Karina, just let me talk to her. I need her to know it was real, I’m begging you.”
Karina stood frozen for a long moment, clearly torn. She glanced back at you, then down at Jake kneeling on the floor, tears still slipping down his face, knuckles dripping blood onto the tiles.
She let out a heavy, reluctant sigh.
“I—come in,” she said quietly, stepping aside, “but if you make this any worse, I swear to God, Jake—”
Jake didn’t even stand up right away. He stayed on his knees for another heartbeat, bloody hands still clasped like he was praying, before he pushed himself up on shaky legs. God, his eyes—they were red-rimmed and glassy, the golden-boy sparkle completely shattered. He looked like he’d been run over by a truck and then backed over again for good measure.
Karina shot you one last warning glance before she slipped into the kitchenette, muttering something about giving you two five minutes and that she’d be right there with a knife if needed. The door to your room clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the sound of Jake’s ragged breathing and the faint drip of blood onto your floor.
You stayed rooted on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tight around your middle like you could physically hold yourself together. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt. A part of you wanted to scream at him to get the fuck out. The other part—the stupid, traitorous part that had fallen anyway—ached at the sight of him like this.
You swallowed hard, voice coming out sharper than you meant, “what the hell are you doing here, Jake? What now?”
Jake ran a shaky hand through his hair, smearing a thin streak of blood across his forehead, “I don’t know,” he groaned, “I really fucking don’t. You said all that shit after the game and I just—I just froze, okay? I punched Jaemin so hard I think I broke something, and it still didn’t make me feel better. Nothing did.”
You looked away, “so you came here?”
“Yeah, I came here,” his voice was rough, frustrated. He took another step closer, boots scuffing the floor, “what else was I supposed to do? You just walked off, were my actions not enough for you, huh? I sat in my room staring at the wall like an idiot for an hour.”
You let out a sharp laugh, finally looking at him again, “oh, poor you. Must’ve been real hard.”
“Don’t,” he warned, “don’t do that. You told me you knew everything and you fell anyway. And then you just—left. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”
You stood up fast, arms dropping to your sides, “what did you expect? A hug? You started this whole thing. You came after me for a bet. I only played along to fuck you over and now look at us. I’m the dumbass who actually caught feelings, while you couldn’t even admit it in front of your friends.”
Jake’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscle jump, “I broke the bet off before the date, Y/N. Before I even took you out. That morning I told Jaemin I was done with the whole thing. He was just stirring shit tonight to fuck with both of us.”
You stared at him, the words hitting like a slap, “you—you what?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, “I ended it days ago. Because it wasn’t a game anymore, not for me. But you still think I was using you the whole time, don’t you?”
Your hands started shaking, “then why the fuck didn’t you tell me? You let me keep thinking it was all fake while I was falling for you like an idiot? While I was lying to my friends and to myself?”
“Because I was terrified!” His voice cracked, louder now, “I knew the second I said it out loud you’d look at me like this—like I’m the enemy. I didn’t want to lose you and I still fucking don’t. I’m in love with you, okay? Not for the bet or the stupid car.”
You shoved at his chest, hard, but your fingers stayed twisted in his hoodie at the confession. He loves you, and he was never once hesitant to show it till now, “you’re such a fucking coward, Jake.”
“I know,” he breathed, eyes glassy as he pressed closer, forehead almost touching yours, “I’m the biggest coward on campus. But I’m yours if you still want me.”
You yanked him down by the hoodie and pulled him into a deep kiss as Jake groaned into your mouth, hands sliding under your shirt, bloody knuckles rough against your skin, and you could taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips.
“I love you,” he gasped right against your lips, the words spilling out shaky between kisses, “fuck, I love you—”
You whined into his mouth at how freely he said it now. Jake had always been truthful to his feelings, while you’d been insecure, which is why you couldn’t do much but kiss him back, hoping that it’ll show how you reciprocate the feelings.
The sharp tang of blood hit your tongue when his injured knuckle brushed your jaw. You pulled back, breathing hard, eyes dropping to his right hand. Only that one knuckle was split open, still seeping a thin line of red.
“Jake,” you muttered, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently and turning it over, “you’re still bleeding.”
He tried to pull you back in, eyes dark and hazy, “don’t care—”
“I do.” You slid off his lap before he could argue, legs a little unsteady as you crossed to the shelf by your desk. Your hands shook slightly when you grabbed the antiseptic wipes, a small tube of ointment, and a strip of gauze. When you turned back he was still sitting on the edge of the bed exactly where you’d left him, watching you with this raw, open look that made your stomach twist in the deepest way—cause gosh, he looked beautiful.
You knelt between his thighs again and took his injured hand. The wipe stung when you pressed it to the cut. Jake hissed softly through his teeth but didn’t pull away. He just stared at your face like the sight of you taking care of him was something he couldn’t quite believe was real.
“You’re really doing this right now,” he said quietly.
“Someone has to,” you whispered, dabbing the blood away carefully, then smoothing ointment over the split skin. Every small touch felt heavier than it should—the faint tremble in his fingers, the way your own heartbeat was slamming so hard against your ribs it felt like it was echoing in your throat. You wrapped the gauze around his knuckle slowly, and the quiet intimacy of it settled somewhere deep in your chest, warm and aching and terrifying all at once.
When you finished he caught your face with both hands and pulled you up into another kiss as if pouring every ounce of emotions he’d ever felt towards you, his lips slotting perfectly against yours, a bit messy with how reverent he was. He even wish to breathe anymore, just accepting the warmth of your mouth as a way to live.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed against your mouth again, the words vibrating through you, “god, I love you so much it feels like it’s in my bones. Like every time I touch you I remember how close I came to losing this.”
You climbed back into his lap, straddling him, and kissed him harder, hips rolling once against the obvious hardness straining in his sweatpants. The friction made you both moan softly. His bandaged hand slid up your back under your shirt, palm warm against your spine, while the other cupped the back of your neck like he was scared you’d pull away.
He broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. His eyes were glassy, voice cracking when he spoke.
“Do you actually want me?” He whispered, lips brushing yours with every word, “not because we’re both fucked up right now. Just—tell me, if not i’ll just stop. Say it against my mouth, pleasw, I need to hear it.”
Your heart felt too big for your chest, a heavy, aching throb that matched the pulse between your legs. You leaned in until your lips touched his with every syllable.
“I want you,” you breathed right against him, “I want you so fucking bad, Jake. Just you—all of you.”
The second the words left your mouth you grabbed his bandaged right hand and pressed his palm flat to the center of your chest, right over your racing heart. His fingers spread wide, the gauze rough and warm against your skin, and Jake let out this low, broken groan that vibrated straight through you.
“Fuck—baby,” he rasped, eyes fluttering like he was barely holding it together, “for me?”
You’d seen how Jake got during intimate moments, but the way he was acting right now—breathing hard against your skin, you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to handle without confessing all your feelings for the pretty boy in front of you. The fact that he came running so soon, that he wished to clear things up, it was enough. Staying mad at him wasn’t ever a choice when every single cell within you yearned for him.
“For you,” you whispered gently, eyes never leaving his face.
He looked stunning to say the least, perhaps the prettiest crier you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. His face was flushed, this beautiful shade of red gracing it, and you couldn’t help but trace your thumb over his swollen lip, “you’re so pretty,” you whispered without thinking twice.
In one smooth motion he flipped you both, laying you down on the bed and settling between your thighs, his body pressing you into the mattress. The sudden weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his pendant swung forward and rested cool against your clavicle—it made you shiver. You looked down and saw it, your initials, small and delicate on the silver chain around his neck, nestled right there against your skin.
A soft, involuntary moan slipped out of you.
Jake’s breath hitched hard against your neck, “you see it, baby?” He whispered, his lips—so fucking soft and plush, brushed your throat as he spoke, “got it the next day after our date, been wearing it since.”
“You’re crazy,” you managed to say, but your eyes were shining just as bright as his own, his usual smile stretching, making your heart race faster than usual.
The proximity was maddening. His chest pressed flush to yours, heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his ribs. The heat of his body soaked into every inch of you, his breath hot and ragged on your neck. He took his time to take your scent in, shamelessly so, doing exactly what he couldn’t when he first talked to you, and swore he was rather drunk on it.
He buried his face deeper into the curve of your neck and inhaled again, slow and shaky, like he was trying to memorize you, “fuck—wanted to do this when I first met you,” he mumbled, lips dragging along your pulse point, open-mouthed and wet.
You shivered hard, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging lightly, “then stop holding back now, Jake. Touch me.”
He groaned, “yeah? You want that?” His bandaged hand slipped under your shirt, palm hot and trembling as it cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it tightened, “like this? Tell me if it’s good, baby. I need to hear you.”
“Feels so good,” you breathed, arching into his touch, “don’t be gentle. I want to feel how bad you want me.”
“Fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking, “I’m gonna show you how sorry I am. Gonna make you feel it with every fucking inch of me until you know I’m yours.” He pushed your shirt higher, mouth following right behind, kissing and sucking down your chest like he was starving, “god, look at you—so fucking pretty under me. Can I take this off? I need to see all of you, baby. Please?”
You nodded fast, lifting your arms. He peeled your shirt off and tossed it aside, then just stared, chest rising fast, “fuck—these tits. Been thinking about them every night.” His mouth latched onto one nipple, plush lips sucking slow and deep while his hand palmed the other one, thumb teasing the peak until you were squirming.
“Jaeyun—shit, that feels so good,” you moaned, back arching.
“Yeah? You like my mouth here?” he asked, switching sides, tongue swirling lazy circles. “Tell me, baby. I need to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“So good,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair, “don’t stop.”
“Won’t stop,” he sighed in pleasure, sucking harder as his teeth grazed just enough to make you gasp, the pendant dragging cool over your skin with every move of his head.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You pushed at his shoulders and flipped you both again, straddling his hips, grinding down slow and filthy against the hard line of his cock through his pants.
Jake’s eyes rolled back, a wrecked groan tearing out of him, “Jesus Christ—yeah, keep going, pretty.”
You leaned down, hair falling around both of you, and kissed him deep, tongue sliding against his, his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist, as if no amount of kissing could satiate his hunger.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, lips still brushing and his eyes were blown wide, chest heaving under you. Holding his gaze, you gathered spit in your mouth, and let it drip slowly right onto his waiting tongue.
Jake’s whole body jerked hard beneath you. A wrecked, filthy moan tore out of his throat as the warm spit landed on his tongue. He didn’t even hesitate before swallowing it down with a shaky groan, then leaned right up and licked into your mouth like he was chasing the taste of you, tongue sliding against yours again, ever so messy and eager.
The absolute joy of being here, so free and filthy with Jake despite everything, had you getting freakier by second knowing damn well how Jake would be thrilled, and he did. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself if you didn’t accept his apology, or if you’d admit that it was a game to you. But seeing neither was the case, he had to take the next step—to show exactly how much he wanted you.
“So dirty for me, huh?” He smirked, sucking on your tongue, “fucking perfect, you’re mine, yeah? Made for me.”
“Getting possessive already?” You chuckled deeply, licking up his neck, nibbling on his earlobe, confidence boosting by second at the sight of him shivering with your ministrations, “you like it when I spit in that pretty mouth of yours, Jake?
He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, gentle but playful, giving it a light pull before letting it go with a soft pop, “like it?” He murmured, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief even now, “darling, I fucking love it. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be this comfortable with me—this filthy.”
You grinned, rolling your hips down against the hard line of his cock, “then stop talking and do something about it.”
Jake clicked his tongue, rolling over so you were under him again, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, eyebrow cocked up, “bossy tonight, aren’t you?” He teased, lips brushing yours as he spoke.
You traced your finger up his spine, grabbing the hair on his nape with a tug that had him groaning, “why wouldn’t I be? You’re mine now, aren’t you?” You challenged.
“Claiming me now, hm? Not mad anymore?” He caught your wrist, pinning it beside your head with his bandaged hand while his other slid down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider under him.
The weight of him was heavenly, you could feel the faint ridges of his abs through his hoodie, the way his heart was slamming against your ribs like it was trying to reach you. His pendant swung forward, cool metal kissing your skin right between your breasts, and the sight of your own initials resting there made you whine yet again.
“Want me to be mad?” You pecked his neck, “want me to go ask someone else to please me—”
Jake’s head snapped up so fast it was almost comical, “you fucking dare say that again,” he almost groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening, fingers digging in like he needed to remind himself you were really here, “don’t even joke about that shit, the thought of someone else even looking at you the way I do makes me want to lose my fucking mind.”
You blinked up at him, surprised by how quickly the jealousy hit, “Jake—”
“No,” He he you off, voice rough as he shoved your shorts and panties down your legs in one impatient yank, the fabric tearing slightly at the seam. He didn’t care. He tossed them off the bed and settled between your thighs like he belonged there, his big nose brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he inhaled deep, shameless.
“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes locked on how wet you were, “you’re actually dripping. All this for me, just for me, hm?”
You tried to answer, but the words died in your throat when he dragged two fingers through your folds, spreading the wetness before pushing them inside you in one smooth thrust. The stretch made your back arch off the bed with a sharp gasp.
“Jake—”
“Yeah?” He curled his fingers deep right away, thumb brushing your clit in slow circles. His nose rubbed against your inner thigh as he leaned in closer, breath hot against your pussy, “keep talking. I wanna hear what you wanna say while my fingers are buried in you like this.”
You clenched around him, hips rolling up to chase the feeling, absolutely enamoured with how possessive he was—maybe that’s what you wanted, him claiming you so freely, “you’re so fucking jealous,” you managed, half-laugh, half-moan, “god—I fucking love you.”
It didn’t take much for you to say it, but to Jake, it was everything.
His fingers froze deep inside you for a split second. Then he yanked them out so fast you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but before you could even protest he was surging up your body, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he stared down at you like you’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Say it again,” he demanded, chest heaving and eyes wild.
“I love you, Jaeyun,” you whispered, looking straight in his eyes.
“Fuck—I love you too,” he managed to say desperately, he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you like he was trying to crawl inside your skin, “i needed to hear that.”
He pressed open mouthed kisses all over your torso, only stopping to take his hoodie off in a go, revealing the faint lines of his abs and the light scatter of freckles across his shoulders. The sight of him all flushed, made heat flood between your legs even more.
He slid back down your body fast, shoving your thighs apart wider. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even more, his big nose brushed your inner thigh as he inhaled deep and shameless. “Fuck, you smell so good when you’re this turned on,” he groaned, then dragged his tongue in one long, filthy stripe up your pussy, moaning loud when he tasted you, “mine, hm.”
His nose rubbed firm and perfect against your clit as he licked, the pressure making your hips jerk.
“Jake—godd,” you gasped, fingers twisting in his hair.
He looked up at you, lips shiny, eyes dark, “yeah? You like my mouth on you?” He sucked your clit into his mouth, fingers pushing back inside you, curling just right, “tell me, baby, I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel while I eat this pretty pussy.”
“So good,” you moaned, thighs shaking around his head, “your nose—right there, it feels so fucking good rubbing my clit like that.”
He caressed the soft flesh of your inner thighs with his veiny hand, thumb stroking back and forth.
Placing open mouthed kisses on it made it worse (better), and you twitched hard.
Jake’s eyes flicked up to yours, lips curving into a filthy little smirk, “oh? Sensitive here?” He dragged his teeth along the inside of your thigh, then sucked hard, leaving a dark mark right where his thumb had been stroking, “fuck, I love that. Gonna mark every spot that makes you shake for me, yeah? My good fucking girl.”
He didn’t give you time to recover. He buried his face between your legs again, eyes never leaving your face, and just how perfect you looked shaking for him, memorizing every bit of it.
He sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, nose pressing firm and relentless. “Mhm, cum for me, baby. Let me taste how much you want me right now.”
You came hard, thighs clamping around his head as you cried out his name, pulsing around his fingers while he kept licking and sucking you through it, moaning like your orgasm was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
He didn’t stop until you were whimpering and pushing weakly at his shoulders, over-sensitive and trembling.
Only then did he crawl back up your body, kissing you deep so you could taste yourself on his tongue. His cock was straining hard against his pants, the front completely soaked with pre-cum.
You reached down and palmed him through the fabric. “Take these off,” you said, voice hoarse, “I want to see you. All of you.”
Jake sat back on his heels, eyes locked on yours the whole time as he shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, keeping it on the side. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed dark, and leaking at the tip. He wrapped his veiny hand around it and gave himself one slow stroke, watching your reaction.
“Better?” He asked, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips even as his chest still heaved, “this what you wanted?”
You bit your lip, heat flooding through you at the sight of him so flushed and bare, freckles standing out across his nose and shoulders, faint abs flexing with every breath, cock heavy in his hand.
“Better,” you breathed, sitting up just a little, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his thick length.
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan when you stroked him slowly from base to tip, thumb swiping over the leaking head, “love your hand, so fucking pretty,” he mumbled, hips twitching forward into your fist, “been hard for you for so long it hurts. C’mon, get on your back, baby, I need to be inside you.”
You lay back, spreading your legs for him. Jake settled between them, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness, being thick enough that the first push made your breath catch.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice strained as he pressed in slowly, making you feel every inch he gave you, “you’re so tight—fuck, just breathe for me. I’ve got you.”
It took time. He worked himself in with shallow thrusts, letting you adjust to the stretch, his jaw clenched tight, sweat already beading on his flushed chest. When he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt, the fullness made your eyes flutter shut and a broken moan slip out of you.
“Shit, Jaeyun you’re so deep,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, “you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, “like you were made for me. Tell me when you’re ready.”
You rolled your hips experimentally and moaned, “yeah, yeah—please.”
He started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, building the pace slowly with steadier strokes that made your back arch and your moans louder. Every thrust pushed the air out of your lungs, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.
“God, look at you taking me,” he panted, eyes locked on where you were stretched around him, “so pretty and full of my cock.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, “harder, Jake. I can take it.”
He groaned and gave you exactly what you asked for, hips snapping faster, the pendant with your initials swinging between your breasts with every thrust. His veiny hand slid down to rub your clit, drawing eights on them.
You were moaning his name, right on the edge, when you suddenly pushed at his chest, “wait—I want to ride you.”
Jake didn’t hesitate, in fact, he was already drooling at the image of your pretty tits jiggling right in front of him. He flipped onto his back, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. You straddled his lap and sank down onto his cock in one go, both of you moaning loudly at the new angle.
“Fuck—ride me, baby,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips as you started moving. His thumbs brushed your nipples, pinching and rolling them while you bounced on his thick length, “so fucking pretty riding my cock like you own it.”
You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, and started sucking dark hickeys into the side of his neck, right below his jaw, “I do own it, baby.”
Jake’s head fell back, a low moan escaping him as you marked him up.
“You do, just you” he panted, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you against him while the other kept playing with your nipple, “want everyone to see I’m yours.”
He reached blindly to the side, grabbing his discarded pants. From the pocket he pulled out a delicate silver pendant—his initials engraved on it. He had planned on asking you out properly before Jaemin fucked it up, but he didn’t plan on waiting anymore, caressing your neck as he clasped it around you, letting it sit beautifully on your clavicle.
“Wear this for me,” he said, voice rough as he watched it bounce lightly with every roll of your hips. The cool metal rested against your overheated skin, a constant little shock that made you shiver, “now say it. Say you’re mine while you’re riding my cock.”
You sat up straighter, rolling your hips deep, warmth blooming inside you at how beautiful the small accessory was, “I’m yours, Jake,” you moaned, looking down at him, “all yours.”
His eyes rolled back for a second, hands tightening on your hips as he helped you ride him harder. “That’s my girl,” he groaned, thumb still playing with your nipple, “keep saying it. I wanna hear it every time you sink down on me, baby.”
You pressed your face into his neck again, sucking another mark there as you rode him faster, both of you lost in each other, sweaty and desperate and finally, completely real.
Jake’s grip on your hips turned bruising, fingers digging in as he thrust up to meet every roll of your body.
“Fuck—baby, I’m so close,” he panted, voice ragged, eyes half-lidded and wild, “I should pull out, shit, I didn’t even ask—”
You shook your head fast, nails digging into his shoulders as you kept riding him, “It’s a safe day,” you gasped, lips brushing his, “I want you inside. Don’t pull out, please.”
Jake’s breath hitched hard, like the words alone almost broke him, “I can’t ever deny you anything, my love,” he groaned, “not when you ask me like that.”
He slammed up into you twice, burying himself deep as he came with a wrecked moan of your name, loud enough to reverberate, hips jerking as he spilled hot and thick inside you. The feeling of him pulsing, filling you, pushed you over right after—you clenched around him hard, thighs shaking, a broken cry of his name leaving your lips.
For a long moment you both just stayed there, trembling. Jake didn’t pull out, wrapping both arms around you and flipping you gently onto your back so he could hover over you, still buried deep, bodies pressed together with no space left. His chest heaved against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking, heartbeat slamming so hard you could feel it through your ribs.
He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at you, eyes glassy and a little wide like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Then he started kissing every mark he’d left on you tonight—the dark bruise on your inner thigh, the ones on your neck, the one just above your breast. Each kiss was slow, open-mouthed, his nose caressing your skin, warm breath fanning over the fresh hickeys like he was memorizing them with his mouth.
You carded your fingers through his damp hair, letting him take his time.
“I was so ready to beg on my knees tonight if that’s what it took,” he finally whispered against your collarbone, “don’t ever make me do that again.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, still a little dazed, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees, actually.”
Jake lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, he leaned in and pecked your lips once, letting it linger before he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he needed the contact more than air.
“Brat,” he murmured, the word warm and fond against your mouth, but the way he said it was so full of quiet, desperate attachment it made your chest tighten. He stayed like that, still inside you, arms wrapped around you, one hand gently stroking up and down your back while the other traced lazy circles over the pendant now warm against your skin.
“I love you,” he finally said, cupping your cheek.
“I love you,” you smiled, letting him be as clingy as he wanted to be.
“Wanna make a bet?” Jake asked, eyes gleaming as you raised your brow.
You laughed under your breath, thumb brushing his bottom lip. “Depends. What are we betting on this time?”
He grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “that I’ll spend the rest of my life proving this was the best bad idea we ever had.”
You smiled against his lips, pretending to think which only made him whine further. But maybe, this one was worth spending time over.
“Bet.”
MEANWHILE:
Jay was repenting for Jake’s sins, staring up at Jungwon, who still appeared to be dissatisfied, half pressed against the man who kept on mumbling, “sorry, Wonie. I’m sorry Jungwonie, please?”
Jungwon only huffed, arms crossed tight even as Jay clung to him like an oversized koala, “you knew about the whole stupid bet and didn’t say a word. I had to watch my best friend get emotionally waterboarded for weeks.”
“I tried to stop it!” Jay whined, nuzzling his face into Jungwon’s shoulder, “I told Jake it was a terrible idea at least thirteen times—”
“Fourteen,” Sunghoon and Heeseung deadpanned from the couch.
Jaemin, already sprawled in the armchair rocking a fresh black eye and split lip, let out a smug little snort, “relax, you babies. I was trying to get them together.”
Jeno, sitting on the floor looking two seconds from committing murder, dragged a hand down his face, “they didn’t even fucking know each other, Jaemin.”
Jaemin shrugged, completely unfazed, “but I saw the bigger picture.”
Heeseung threw a pillow at his head, “there were better ways, you absolute menace.”
Jaemin dodged it with a grin, “yeah, but none as entertaining.” He popped a chip in his mouth and asked casually, “now who do I do next?”
The entire room exploded at once.
“No.”
“Fuck no.”
“Touch another person and I’m punching you this time.”
“I swear to God, Jaemin—”
Jaemin just laughed, raising his hands like he was innocent, “fine. Jay’s next.”
The poor guy looked up in horror.
“Absolutely the fuck not,” Jungwon snapped, yanking Jay behind him like a human shield who only blushed at the display of power, “you stay the hell away from him, Jaemin. End of discussion.”
being able to witness peak fiction drop is just...
i cannot tell you how exciteddddd i was for this to drop. from getting the privilege to working alongside you, seeing sneak peaks and finally getting the opportunity to read this beautiful work in its entirety...this shit MEANS something to me 😭🙏🏾 i was so smitten with jake and to see him fall further for the reader was so so sweet, with the reader falling him being the icing on the cake! :3 the smut scenes too?!?! HELLO (#needthatfr) 🤤 also (!!!) jaemin was SOOOOO MESSY in this, but it got my otp together so i can't complain 🥲 loved, loved, LOVEDDDDD this! watching you work and reading your fics will never get old, love you always ariiiii! <333 congrats on another amazing fic 🫂💗🍀
IN WHICH after yet another gym session with Taehyun, you start feeling weird things. Things you never thought you would have to worry about when it comes to one of your close friends. Fortunately, Taehyun will gladly help you take care of the itch he caused.
kang taehyun x fem!reader
contains— smut, gym partner!taehyun, friends to ??, oral (f. rec.), penetration, fingering, breast play, biting/marking, reader is ovulating
word count— 3.8k
↪ izzy speaks... Legends say they are still at it like some wild animals
request | taehyun m.list
You weren't into sports much throughout your childhood, so when your friend suggested you'd try the gym with him, you had no intentions of saying yes to him.
So how exactly did you find yourself in a gym so often after all? You're not sure. One minute you were telling Taehyun that you don't want to go, and the other you were already practically living in here. It just happened without you having any control over it, and you blame his persistence.
If Taehyun wasn't going with you so often, you definitely wouldn't be here. Every time you had a session planned together and he apologized to you because he won't be able to make it, you just didn't go either. Your motivation relied on him, so despite how much you wished to be the girl who would go work out just because she wants to, you aren't her.
"Come on, one more," Taehyun encourages and you have to fight the urge to not snap at him. One thing you learned about yourself on your little fitness journey, you hate bench press. It's so stupid. It's dangerous, dumb, and you beg Taehyun to let you off the hook every time he says that's the next machine you're going on. You know it could easily be solved if you decided to start planning your training on your own, but you like it more when he's the one in charge.
Not only does he plan the machines around in a way you can be near each other all throughout the training, but he also actually understands fully what you're training on each thing. If you were to plan your own rotation, you would just be on the same five machines every day. Which, even you know wouldn't do you any good.
"I can't," you complain, a strained whine leaving your lips as you try to push the bar up once more. Your hands won't move though. You seriously can't. "Tae," you beg, completely out of power now.
When he hears the struggle in your voice, realizing you won't push it up again, he quickly steps forward and wraps his fingers around the middle, bringing it up with ease. You sigh in relief when he does, letting your arms drop to your sides. "Let's take a break," he suggest and you look up at him. You'd love to say it's easy to find his eyes when he is standing right behind your head, but thanks to the position, the only thing you find are his pants. You quickly avert your eyes, trying your hardest to pretend you didn't just lock eyes with his print.
Pushing yourself up, you sit on the bench while he unloads the weights. You feel like you're going to die. Blinking up, your brows furrow in confusion as he comes to stand in front of you, offering you his bottle. "Finish this, I have more left than you do in yours," he practically pushes the bottle into your hands, which you're glad for because you do need that water.
"Why do you like torturing me so much?" You ask as soon as you rest the bottle on the floor again. "Is this some sort of a kink? Finding pleasure in seeing me get crushed down by weights?"
He snickers at your question. "I'm not a sadist," he assures you with a shake of his head. "I seriously thought you could do one more."
"As you can see, I couldn't," you sigh.
"Do you want to move onto legs? I need to get two more sets in," he points towards the spot he's been occupying until he came to spot you, and you nod. "Just do whatever you're in the mood for. I'll join you in a bit."
You go refill both his and your water bottle before moving on. You settle on a leg press — your favorite machine unlike the one you just had to do. It's positioned in a way that allows you to watch Taehyun as you work out, admiring his drive for this. Even all these months later, you still admire how determined he is. He is incredible.
You keep your eyes on him while pushing the weights with your legs, watching as he grips the bar above him and pulls himself up. It doesn't look easy at all, and you're glad he didn't make you do that yet. You're sure you'd fail. The last time you attempted to do a pull up was probably in high school, and even then, it ended with utter embarrassement.
Taehyun only let's go off the bar once he loses his strength completely, finishing his set. He shakes his arms on his side before reaching for the bottle you filled, instinctively looking for you with his eyes. As soon as he finds you, he smiles, a soft curve of his lips that almost causes for you to fail your set. Steadying yourself quickly, you pull at the lever on your side to catch the weights, relaxing for a second.
He takes a long sip and you let your eyes wander for a second — simply admiring what work outs do to his body, you convince yourself. His Adam's apple is exposed, sweat running down and making it glisten. You can see it even from across the room. His black shirt clings to his body, hugging every one of the muscles he built with such precision. You've seen him with it off a few times before, and you can confidently say his shirt doesn't do him justice.
His abs are perfectly toned, a sight you could look at for hours. Then, of course, there are those legs. Those fucking legs. Taehyun has strong thighs that others easily overlook. The amount of times you found yourself staring at them while he'd work out in the past months is not something you could recall. The memory of him helping you at the bench press rushing to your mind, the sight of his legs practically right on top of your head. God.
You need to get a grip. You can't be thinking about the print you saw when you were trying to look at him, not when you're in a room filled with people.
Your body doesn't listen to your head, though, and your eyes drop down on their own again, locking with the same print you are not supposed to be thinking about. Fuck me. The words are printed all over your mind in bold letters, making you feel like you're going crazy. Who the fuck stares at their friend like this and thinks about fucking them? All because of the fucking sweatpants he decided to wear.
So when it comes to it, it's really his fault.
You are not the one with your muscles out.
Fucking hell, are you ovulating?
You force your gaze up again just to find Taehyun already looking at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Your lips part but no words come out. You're not even sure what you wanted to say. It's not like he'd be able to hear you if you did speak either way.
You watch as he pulls his weight up again, his eyes still on you, before looking away, trying your best to focus on your set. You must be going crazy. And ovulating. Because since when is Kang Taehyun hot? Kang Taehyun, the same guy who you met in your high school math class and stayed by his side since then. Kang Taehyun, who saw all kind of versions of you throughout the years and supported you when you needed it. Kang Taehyun, who you always thought was just a great friend to you.
Looking at him now, though, all sweaty with his boba eyes watching you and his strength out in the open for you to see, the last thing you feel is that he is just a friend.
The rest of your set goes by in a blur. You can't focus. You can't do anything but thing about the man on the other side of the gym. You're a mess. Both in your head and between your legs.
You need to get home.
"How much longer do you need here?" You blurt out as soon as he joins your side again, not giving him a chance to speak.
He blinks confusedly at first, looking around the gym. "Uhm, if you want to go already we can I was just going to do—"
"Please," you nod, desperate to get out of here.
"Okay," he doesn't question you further. "Let me just grab all my things and we'll meet in the car?" You don't answer him, hurrying out and leaving him there, his confusion only growing.
If he's honest, he's been confused for a while. Ever since you parted ways and he stayed behind to finish his pull ups, he's noticed the change in your behavior. It wasn't anything huge so he didn't think much of it, holding your gaze just like he normally would. But then your eyes started flickering all around him, almost in distress. To say he's been wondering what you're thinking about is an understatement.
He keeps about it as he goes into the changing rooms. As he changes back to his jeans and a new shirt, as he walks out of the gym and heads towards his car, as he opens the door for you like he always does and sees your flushed cheeks, and as he drives towards your apartment. Especially as he drives towards your apartment. He can't get rid of his curiosity, trying to figure out just what exactly you were thinking about while watching him like that.
Like what? He honestly isn't sure.
As wise he knows he is, his skills apparently don't include reading people's expressions well.
"Wait," he stops you before you can run out of his car when he parks in front of your apartment. "Are you okay? What's—"
"I'm good, Taehyun," you brush him away quickly. "I just— I really need to go," you excuse yourself, but just as you grab the handle to open the door, he catches your other wrist in his hand, not letting you go. Your name slips from his lips, a confused plea to tell him what's going on with you. But you can't. You need to take care of the itch he managed to cause in the gym. You're desperate to take care of it and find a release to this sudden attraction you feel towards him. He's doing things to you you don't want him to know about.
"I can clearly see you don't feel okay. Can you at least look at me? Did I do something to upset you?" The desperation in his voice makes just only that much crazier. The need you hear in his voice to understand you better sending a shiver down your spine, one that forces your thighs together. You really need to get away from here.
"It's not that," you shake your head quickly, your lips forming a straight line as you try your best to keep any signs of what you're feeling hidden.
"Then what—" he pauses, losing his breath for a second. "Oh." Your brows furrow confusedly at the sudden change, following his eyes to see what he's seeing.
Your eyes widen instantly when you realize you've been rubbing your thighs together. You quickly push them apart, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you curse on repeat, brushing his hand off yours and finally opening the car door to escape.
"Wait!" He calls after you, only met with a harsh slam of the passenger door. He's quick, getting out of the car as well and meeting you at the back as you get your gym back from his truck. The sound of your name makes you freeze but you brush it off as fast as you can, heading towards your apartment. He closes the truck door and locks his car, rushing after you without a single care that what you are so desperately trying to get away from is him. "Can we talk?"
"Not a great time for a talk, Tae!" You yell back at him, searching for your keys.
"I think it's the perfect time!" He claims, appearing at your side before you can unlock the door. "Just listen to me. Let me help."
"You don't want to help with this," you shake your head, barely listening to what he's saying.
"I do!"
You stop in your track, blinking at him confusedly. "You do?" You question, taken aback.
"If you were just listening to me for a second, you would have known."
"But you— we— this—"
"Do you want me to take care of that itch or not?"
You don't hesitate any longer, breathing out a desperate, "Yes."
You're not sure how you expected a kiss with Taehyun to look like, but it wasn't as gentle as this. You dropped your gym back in the hallway as soon as you closed the door behind yourself, and he didn't waste any second, latching his lips onto yours. And while the hands gripping your flesh were anything but, his kiss has been soft and tender.
If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's been wanting to do this for a while.
With your back pressed against the front door, you moan into his lips as he pushes a knee between your parted legs. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you kiss him with more urgency.
"How long?" He asks before moving his lips lower, planting wet kisses to your throat. "You're like this because of me, right?"
"Yes," a whine escapes through your lips, your ears red from the embarrassement.
"How long?" He repeats his question, helping you rock forward on his thigh. His fingers dig into the flesh of your waist as he does and you crazy. You need to get these clothes off.
"I don't… know," you cry into his ear, trying to move your hips faster. "It just happened." He hums into your skin. "Taehyun, please."
You feel him smirk against you as your plea reaches him. His hands move under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra. You suddenly regret wearing a sports bra, wishing you'd have a more flattering one instead. "Will you get this off for me?" You nod, and as soon as he has his confirmation, he lowers himself down to his knees.
Your head spins at the sight, finding him more attractive than ever as he kneels in front of you. He toys with the hem of your pants, waiting for you to take off your shirt before pulling them down. You get rid of your sports bra just as quick, locking your eyes on him again.
Unlike you, he takes his time getting you rid of the last piece of clothing, his eyes glued to your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties. The wet fabric is clinging to your pussy and Taehyun groans at the sight. This has got to be the best day of his life.
He drops the clothing to your ankles and you step out of it with ease, kicking it aside. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling at the brown locks lightly. He looks up, his mouth opened and just inches from where you need him the most. He grips your waist again, his fingers digging into your skin. "You're beautiful," he whispers, pressing his lips to your thigh. "Do you know that?"
You shiver under him, the image of him looking at you from between your legs now planted in your head. You watch him as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you in place with his hands. You're obsessed with the way he murmurs your name against your skin, grabbing any flesh he can get his hands on as his mouth meets your clit.
"Fuck," you breathe out instantly. It feels like forever since someone ate you out, your body recognizing the pleasure immediately and inching forward. Taehyun's tongue flickers over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping lower. His tongue slides between your folds, collecting all your wetness. The grip you have on his hair tightens, causing a low whine to leave his lips. You feels the sound in every part of your body.
You want his cock inside.
Crying out, barely understandable blabs leave your lips as you beg for more. You're not sure if he can't hear you or just doesn't care, but he simply continues with what he's been doing until now, taking care of your clit with his tongue.
It's only once he hears you moan his name that he decides to be nice to you, letting his fingers join. You almost thank him as he dips one of his fingers inside you, adding to the pleasure. The second finger comes right after, moving in a slow rhythm.
Adding a third fingers almost makes you come. Despite the teasing slow moves, he is nothing if not skilled. With his fingers pumping in and out of you and his tongue working you at the same time, you could probably come at his demand.
He hums against your skin, noticing you get closer. "Will you come for me, pretty?"
You whine at his words, nodding instantly. You feel hot all over, burning with need. Keeping him right where you want him, your legs shake around his head. It comes so fast, your breath shakes as you finish on his lips.
He pulls away only after licking you clean, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, wanting you to see him suck the last bits of you off. You moan at the sight, dropping your leg back down to the floor, trying your best for them not to give out. It feels like another work out.
"Come here, I need you to know how perfect you taste," he says as he pushes himself up again, chasing after your lips. Wrapping your hands around him as he kisses you, you use it to help you stand straight, needing to hold onto him. As if he could read your mind completely, he pulls away just enough to speak. "Do you have enough energy to stay here?"
You shake your head quickly, not seeing a reason to hide it from him. He nods back, not wasting any more time and picking you up with ease. You hook your legs around his waist while he grips your ass, getting more and more obsessed with touching your naked skin. "Bedroom?" He questions. "Please."
He sounds just as desperate as you are. God. You need to feel him inside. Nodding, you point him towards your bedroom despite knowing he is well aware of your apartment layout. It's not the first time he is over, but it certainly is the first time he's made you come at the door. Hopefully, it's not the last one, though.
Before you can even register being put down, Taehyun is already undressing, enjoying the way your eyes trail down his body. If you thought he was hot before, you are completely gone now. As soon as his shirt is off and you get a look at his build torso, you get wet all over again.
"Condoms?" He asks, his eyes locked on yours as he undoes his belt. Jesus. Can't he think about you a bit more? How are you supposed to not bounce on him instantly — even without getting that condom first — when he looks like this?
"In the drawer," you nod your head towards your bedside table and he nods, dropping his belt on the ground and pulling down his zipper as he walks around the bed to get it. You make yourself more comfortable as you watch him get rid of the last bits of clothing as well, climbing onto the bed to join you.
Your eyes fall to his cock even before he starts rolling the condom over his length, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sight. You don't think you could even explain how pretty his dick is.
"Tae, please," you look up at him, batting your eyelashes. A barely audible groan leaves his lips as he closes the space between you and presses his lips to yours, his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hands wander across his naked skin, feeling the hard build muscles you're starting to appreciate a lot more than before.
Moaning into each other's mouths, his tip stretches your walls, taking his time with each inch. For a moment, you forget completely that he's one of your friends, everything you feel too much to be considered that. From the pleasure to the pound of your heart as he whispers sweet praises into your ear.
You rock your hips against his, meeting his rhythm. There's a loud yell in your head, begging for more despite his cock already filling you so much. "Turn around," you whine and Taehyun listens, flipping the both of you so he's not laying on his back with ease. As you sit on top now, you feel him even deeper, your hand resting against his chest for support.
His eyes stay locked on you, flickering between your face, bouncing tits, and the spot where his cock disappears into your body. He can't get enough. Thrusting his hips into you harder, the sounds you make get louder. It's a song to his ears.
Bringing his hands up, he squeezes your boobs, rolling your nipples between two of his fingers. You bite on your bottom lip to prevent the loud sounds from escaping, but it doesn't work as well as you'd like, the pleasure he brings you stronger than your want to stay quiet.
"I'm gonna come," you cry, rubbing your clit to help yourself get over the edge.
"Fuck," he groans. "You're taking me so well, I'm going to come too."
Still playing with your breasts, he takes you to another orgasm, moaning with you as you drop your head to his shoulders and sink your teeth into his skin, needing to focus on something other than the intense orgasm crashing down your body. As soon as you do, he paints the condom white as well. The sound he makes as he comes must be the prettiest one you've heard in a while.
Giving you a few more sloppy thrusts to help you both ride it out, he tries to help you off him only for you to sit right back down on his cock again. "What are—"
"Please," you cry. "Just one more." Raising your head to look at him, you watch as his eyes flicker with want. His cock is as hard as if he didn't just come.
"You're going to be the death of me," he moans, claiming your lips in his. "Let me get the whole pack you have, baby, I think we'll need them."
( ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ) the last thing you expected when you returned to the town you grew up in was finding taehyun taller— and a lot more muscular— than you remembered | 4475
party. smut. brother’s friend!taehyun. needy!reader. meandom!taehyun. submissive!reader. use of alcohol. mentions of drugs. taehyun’s full of himself. anal sex. hair pulling. spitting. slapping. sexual tension. repressed feelings. choking. mirror sex scene. dirty talk i guess. possessive behavior. degradation. taehyun calls reader whore, slut on sexual moments.
𖦤 when did you get hot – sabrina carpenter
@taehyunsloves @tyunningism @missdel @soohashits
main masterlist.
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when yeonjun told you to come to his birthday in the small town where you’d grown up together before you moved to the city, you didn’t hesitate. you packed your bags and booked a flight to celebrate with your twin.
caught between the constant pressure of being the daughter who’d run away from that ghost town to study in the big city of seoul and a fast paced life that never let you rest, you barely had time to text your brother, go out partying with your friends, or even go on a date with some guy you’d met on tinder.
your social life was slowly turning more and more depressing, and your social battery kept finding ways to drain faster than you expected.
music blasts from the speakers, echoing all through the back garden of the house, where all his friends and acquaintances have shown up to have a good time—drinking, smoking, dancing. yeonjun always had that thing about him, being known everywhere, making friends without even trying, so it felt like half the town had turned up.
you did remember, though, that he’d had a close knit group of friends since you were kids, people he’d grown up with to the point of feeling like brothers; soobin, beomgyu, kai and…
“yn,” your brother’s voice cuts through the music, making you turn your head in his direction, abandoning the story soobin had been telling you to focus instead on the two boys standing in front of you. “do you remember taehyun?”
your jaw might’ve hit the floor if you didn’t have at least some self control, just at the sight of the greek god your twin was introducing you to.
kang taehyun? the same short kid who used to trail after yeonjun everywhere, practising failed magic tricks just to try and impress you?
“taehyun?” your voice barely comes out, your eyes shamelessly drift down over his toned arms, bare under a sleeveless black shirt.
“you do remember me?” he teases, crossing his arms as an excuse to flex the muscles of his biceps you’re very obviously staring at. “thought the city might’ve wiped your memory clean.”
you laugh when the rest of the group does, though you’re not really hearing a word of what yeonjun’s friend is saying, your gaze dropping from his shirt to the dark jeans hugging his thighs in a way that makes your mouth water.
luckily, yeonjun is distracted enough not to notice you checking out his friend as he slips into the conversation. he always has been, and taehyun is grateful for that too; at the very least, your brother has never realised just how in love with you he’s been.
ever since he was a kid, taehyun used to spend more time at your house playing video games with yeonjun than at his own, but eventually his interests started to lean more towards his best friend’s twin sister instead of whatever game they were trying to beat.
though, if you’re being honest, you’d never really looked at him, at least not like that. taehyun wasn’t your type: short, skinny, a bit of a loser—like a smaller, softer version of your brother, almost like a kid yeonjun couldn’t get rid of and just ended up adopting into his group of friends.
only now, the scent of his perfume has your head spinning, mixed with the sound of his laugh and the way his muscles tense every time he catches your eyes on him; devouring him like you’ve never seen a guy in a sleeveless shirt before.
and it’s not like you’re desperate or anything, but you definitely can’t remember the last time your body reacted on its own just from being around someone as attractive as taehyun.
it’s almost impossible to believe he’s the same scrawny kid who used to knock on your bedroom door asking if you wanted the last slice of pizza—the one he’d saved just for you, because he knew how much you loved pepperoni.
taehyun can feel your eyes on him the entire time—so obvious it fills his chest with a quiet sense of pride, knowing that the same childhood crush he once had is now looking at him like he’s something you can’t quite resist. all those years of training since secondary school to build up his body had definitely paid off, even if he never knew when he’d get the chance to see you again.
his lips curl into a smirk, pretending he’s listening to whatever story kai’s telling, when in reality he’s fighting the urge to turn and look at you just to tell you outright that if you keep staring at him like that, he won’t be responsible for what he does next.
soobin’s the first to slip away from the group when the sudden need to piss after two beers in a row hits him, followed by beomgyu, who asks yeonjun to help him find more alcohol in the kitchen.
then, kai and taehyun just share a look, and the blond disappears for a few seconds, leaving the now orange haired boy standing in front of you, sipping from his cup with an expression that looks like something’s quietly amusing him.
he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head in your direction.
“missed me that much, huh?”
you’re not sure who to thank for not choking on your own drink when the words leave his mouth.
“excuse me?”
“you’re not exactly subtle,” he says, taking another sip from his cup, glancing away before looking back at you again. “you never paid me this much attention before. should i be flattered?”
you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks at the way he outright calls you out on something you know you’re guilty of.
you look away, running your tongue over your lips. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protest weakly. “looks like going to the gym really got to your head.”
his low laugh twists something tight in your stomach.
“thought you’d be smarter when it comes to defending yourself,” he mocks, taking another sip of his drink. he leans in just enough for his lips to brush your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “keep looking at me like that and i’m going to assume you want me to do something about it.”
you can feel your panties growing slightly damp at his words, watching him disappear into the crowd of people dancing and singing around you. a soft sigh slips past your lips as you take another sip from your now empty cup.
you can’t quite remember if you’re on your second or third drink, but you definitely need another after that little conversation.
so unconsciously, you make your way to the kitchen in search of something else to drink, expecting to find yeonjun and beomgyu there. but clearly, they’re not.
they’re probably in your brother’s room, you think.
either way, you head for the cooler, looking for something that might shake off that stupid feeling of chasing something you lost years ago—taehyun is definitely not your type. well, he wasn’t. maybe he is now, or maybe you’ve just had enough to drink to start noticing that your body does, in fact, need the kind of attention it’s not getting in the city.
soobin ends up dragging you back to the main room so you can talk and laugh like old times, considering he’d always been your favourite out of your brother’s friends—funny, a bit silly, a little nerdy.
he stands close enough to speak near your ear so you can hear him, and even though you laugh at what he says and genuinely try to pay attention, your eyes stay fixed on the orange haired boy laughing with kai on the other side of the room.
to be fair, if it weren’t for that shirt leaving his biceps on display, you probably wouldn’t be this affected but you can’t stop your imagination from running wild at the sight alone.
if his arms are that big and his shoulders that broad, how defined are the lines of his abs? what about the sharp dip of his v-line trailing down to—
god, yn, what are you even thinking?
you take a long sip from your glass, feeling the burn of the soju down your throat before lifting your gaze back to taehyun.
across the room, he can’t help but feel your eyes on him again. and he knows, now, that he’s got the power to drive you a little crazy without even trying. that’s why he hands his drink to his friend, murmuring a quiet “hold this for a second,” as he stretches his arms above his head, his black shirt riding up just enough to reveal the lines of his abs and that v-line you’d been thinking about only seconds before, the trail disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers.
he tries not to look over straight away, but curiosity gets the better of him and he ends up meeting your gaze, or at least catching you staring at his shirt riding up.
he lifts his brows to you, amused, fully aware he’s caught you in the act, and even though your cheeks flush all over again, you just roll your eyes at his cockiness.
but when your conversation with soobin hits its peak, your legs carry you back to the kitchen—but this time it’s not to grab another drink, it’s to pour yourself a glass of water and try to settle the thousand thoughts running through your head without warning.
life in the city is so hectic compared to what you were used to as a teenager in this town that you barely have time to grab a drink with your friends, and that’s probably why you need water now—to bring down the alcohol in your system.
until you hear the door open, letting the music spill in before it shuts again, and taehyun steps in, an empty glass in his hand.
“feeling okay?” he asks, setting his glass down on the counter and giving you a look, which you answer with a small nod, not quite meeting his eyes.
“i think my limit was two drinks,” you admit, letting out a soft laugh as you take another sip of water. “i don’t really drink over there.”
taehyun takes a few steps closer, leaning his hips against the counter, raising a curious brow.
“thought city people club every week.”
you scoff lightly. “only the ones who don’t have a stupid master’s degree to pass,” the words slip out, and his expression softens as he looks at you.
“that much stress, city girl?” he tilts his head, his orange hair falling softly over his eyes. “sounds like you need to relax.”
“yeah, honestly, i do,” you admit, setting your glass aside as you lean your hips against the counter across from him. “when did you turn into… this?”
the words leave your mouth faster than you expect, and you regret them instantly. “sorry, i didn’t mean—”
“i think when you left for the city, i had a lot of free time,” he admits, letting out a quiet laugh. “didn’t really care about hanging around here as much if you weren’t upstairs ignoring my magic tricks.”
you laugh, shaking your head. “terry, you were terrible.”
the childhood nickname slips out before you can stop it.
“hey,” he frowns for a second, stepping closer to you. “i’ve improved a lot, you know what you can learn when you’ve got time on your hands.”
you lift your gaze when he’s finally close, smiling. “like what? hiding coins behind someone’s ear? that’s vintage.”
taehyun rolls his eyes, lifting his hands slightly. “i can do massages, too.”
the tone of his voice is inviting, laced with just enough suggestion to make your stomach tighten.
but you end up giving in, both hands braced against the counter as your back is left at his disposal, his hands pressing into the tense points of your shoulders, working over exactly the spots that need attention to finally let your body relax.
he didn’t lie—he really did learn how to give a good massage.
“how long are you staying?”
“just this weekend— ah—” your voice comes out rougher, eyes squeezing shut when he applies more pressure.
“we missed you around here,” he admits. “you should come back more often.”
“mmh, i’ll think about it,” your voice slips out, softened with relief as taehyun finds just the right spot. “shit—”
“you’re really tense,” he says, working at the knots in your shoulders, his touch careful but firm enough to make you react. “city treating you that badly?”
you let out a soft chuckle under your breath, your voice growing more relaxed by the second. “i don’t get this in seoul every day.”
“no one there bothering to give you the attention you deserve?” his voice drops slightly, pressing harder in a way that pulls an involuntary sound from you. he leans closer, his lips near your ear. “relax, yn. i’ve got you.”
the brush of his chest against your back makes you realise just how little distance there is between you, but you couldn’t care less now. your shoulders stay tight under the slow pressure of his fingers, his breathing so close it’s almost dangerous, and his hips… pressed against you.
so you can feel how hard he is, right against your ass.
your breath hitches for a second, especially when you feel his hands start to slide down from your shoulders to your arms.
“you still have the same effect on me,” his hips press more insistently against you, enough for you to feel him throbbing through the denim of your jeans. “but i’m not as nice as i used to be.”
your skin prickles all over as his words travel from his lips to your ear, your nails digging lightly into the wood of the counter.
“someone could walk in any second,” is the only coherent thing you manage to say, as if that alone would be enough to stop something neither of you actually wants to end. “this isn’t exactly the place for—”
your words cut off when you feel the loss of his warmth against you. you open your eyes and turn to look for him. he watches you for a moment, dark eyes, hands tucked into his pockets as he adjusts himself.
“go on,” he nods slightly. “let’s find somewhere more private.”
your back hits the tiled wall of the bathroom at the far end of the house extension—far enough that no one will catch you, far enough that no one can hear the sounds slipping from your lips against taehyun’s mouth as he kisses you hard, deliberate, like he’s been waiting for this his whole life.
his right hand presses you firmly against the wall while his body pins you in place, his left hand wrapping around your neck with a steady grip, keeping you from pulling away from the kiss.
not that you have any intention of doing so.
one of your hands grips his hip, pulling him closer so he can’t put any distance between you, while the other clutches his flexed bicep, feeling the firmness of his muscles under your touch.
a muffled whine escapes you when his teeth catch your bottom lip, biting just hard enough to feel like punishment for making him wait so long.
“s’loud,” he growls against your lips, tightening his hold at your throat. “want everyone to hear you?”
his tongue slides into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of the soju you’ve been drinking, while you catch the faint mix of weed and cigarette on his, with a hint of whiskey that makes you melt.
he leans back when he needs air, fixing you with wide, dark eyes, heavy with desire.
you look at him through half lidded eyes, your chin slightly lifted by his grip on your neck, your chest rising a little faster from the intensity of his kiss.
“never thought you’d look at me like this,” he says, voice rough, tightening his hold just enough to cut off your breath for a second. “worth the wait, though.”
your lips part slightly when his grip turns a bit rougher, and the look he gives you makes your knees feel weak.
“open your mouth,” he says, and you obey without hesitation. your tongue slips past your lips like he asked, and you swallow after he spits into your mouth. “good girl… i’m going to have so much fun with you tonight.”
it’s hard to believe the same boy who used to ask if you wanted to join horror movie nights with yeonjun is the one holding this kind of power over you now—as if he weren’t younger than you, as if he weren’t your brother’s shy, slightly awkward friend.
“again,” you ask, your voice barely there, strained from lack of air and the desire pooling low in your stomach.
taehyun smiles, lifting his brows for you to open your mouth again, and when you do, he spits once more, watching as you swallow.
“look at you now… who would’ve thought.”
his hand moves from your throat to your face, sliding his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on, while with the other he undoes his belt, pulling down the zip of his jeans just enough to free himself.
his gaze lingers on the way your lips wrap around his thumb, feeling the soft flick of your tongue and imagining how that same pretty mouth of yours would feel around him—how you’d struggle to take him all the way.
his hand guides yours to him, never looking away from your lips around his finger, and the moment your hand wraps around him, his jaw tightens noticeably.
“that’s it, slow…” he murmurs, voice rough, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth just enough to make you gag. “you think you can take it?”
you nod as soon as you hear him, ridiculously desperate to feel more of his touch on you. your hand wraps around the head of his cock, your thumb brushing over it and earning a sharp twitch from his abdomen in response.
you can’t remember the last time you touched someone—let alone the last time someone touched you.
“you wouldn’t last two minutes on my cock, yn. don’t make me laugh.”
his free hand moves up, squeezing one of your nipples through the fabric of your top, pulling a muffled sound from you against his thumb.
“sensitive, hm?” he tilts his head, dragging his index finger over the hardened bud, quick enough to make your back arch at the sensation.
your hand tightens around him, drawing a low groan from his lips, but he doesn’t stop.
soft, broken sounds slip from your mouth around his thumb, still pressing against your tongue.
“so needy, pretty yn…” he murmurs, moving to your other nipple just as sensitive. “how long’s it been since someone fucked you like the slut you are?”
this time, both of his hands travel up to your chest, thumbs and index fingers working over your nipples, pinching lightly just enough to make you tremble—and it works. your hand tries to keep stroking him, slow, but the electric currents running from your nipples down to your lower abdomen distract you too much.
your moans echo through the bathroom, pathetic in the way it shows just how much you needed someone to touch you like this.
your eyes squeeze shut, focusing on the sensation spreading through your body, pooling in the way your core tightens with pleasure.
taehyun dips his head down to the level of your tits, his hands quick to lift your top just enough to give himself space, his tongue meeting one of your nipples, licking over it fast, watching you lose composure within seconds.
you let out a louder moan, one hand coming up to grip his hair as you feel his thumb playing with your other nipple—enough to make your whole body tense, rising instinctively in search of some kind of release.
he pulls you back up into another kiss, this time rougher, messier, his mouth crashing against yours like he’s done holding back. both his hands stay on your chest, fingers and thumbs working your nipples without mercy, squeezing, rolling, making your hips jerk and press harder against him as your orgasm creeps closer and closer.
you moan straight into his mouth, barely able to keep up with the kiss, your focus completely gone, lost in the way his hands are playing with your tits. your panties are soaked through, embarrassingly wet, clinging to you.
and like he can read every filthy thought in your head, he presses his forehead to yours, letting out a low, hungry growl.
“say it,” he murmurs, voice dark and demanding. “tell me you want me to fuck you right here, right now.”
his grip tightens slightly, breath hot against your lips.
“tell me how badly you need me.”
“taehyun, i—” you gasp, completely overwhelmed by the way his fingers keep working you. “fuck me… please.”
taehyun huffs out a mocking, breathy laugh against your mouth. “you used to ignore me…” he mutters, voice low and rough. “and this is all it took? for you to fall apart like this?”
your jeans drop to the floor the second his fingers find the button and undo them, leaving your red panties on full display—as if some part of you had known, or hoped, that someone would undress you tonight.
you look at him, breath unsteady, noticing the way his jaw tightens at the sight of your underwear against your skin.
your gaze drops to his cock—hard, erect, long… thick.
the impact of his slap against your cheek catches you off guard, your lips parting in shock.
not just because it hurt, but because you like the way it feels.
“look at your eyes,” he mutters, shaking his head as he stares at you. “you like this, don’t you?”
his left hand tightens around your throat again, firm enough to steal your breath for a few seconds, while his right hand opens before coming down to slap your cheek once more.
“i’m gonna ruin you,” he says, sliding his right hand into your hair at the nape of your neck, holding you firmly in place. his other hand grips your waist, turning you so your cheek is pressed against the wall. “until you’re crying for more.”
a broken whimper coming from your lips echoes through the bathroom as your body reacts instantly to his cock pushing inside you, but not on the hole you’re expecting. your legs tensing beneath you.
he leans closer, his voice rough against your ear as his fingers tighten harshly in your hair. “have you ever tried this before?”
a small, breathless “no” slips from you, and he exhales through his nose, something darker settling in his tone. “thought so.”
something animal snaps inside taehyun’s head as soon as he feels you tighten around his cock, incapable of stopping at this point. he starts thrusting slow at first, letting you get used to this new feeling but as soon as he notices your whines are actually coming from the pleasure, there’s no way back.
his hips crash abruptly against your ass cheeks, flesh against flesh echoes the room, filling the room with his low groans and your desperate whimpers, music to his ears. “i know, babe. i know.”
his cock feels hard inside your hole, hitting a new spot inside your body you didn’t know could bring you this kind of pleasure. his fingers tighten on your hair, pulling it roughly to keep you in place. your cheek is against the wall, your eyes rolled back, your legs trembling with pleasure.
“my god–!” you whine, loudly. he barely laughs at you, snapping his hips against you mercilessly.
“you like that?” he growls against your ear, his breath uneven at this point. you’re wrapping around him so fucking good, so fucking nice. you barely respond with moans, which drives him mad. “use your fucking words, whore.”
“i-i like it–! fuck, taehyun!”
with a precise movement, both of his hands settle on your hips, but this time he pushes you back against the sink so you can see in the mirror exactly what he’s doing to you.
“look at that mess, that’s you,” he pulls your hair once more, forcing you to look at your reflection in the mirror. your teary eyes, your pleased expression, too lost to even notice you look like a total fucking mess. “this is what you get for making me wait.”
his hand travels to your clit this time, teasing your clit with two fingers as he desperately tries to stimulate every single spot he can. his forehead rests against your shoulder, hips snapping so hard your skin is already red.
you feel that familiar, delicious knot forming on your lower stomach due his fingers on your sensitive clit–and the stimulation engaging your pelvic muscles, enough for your cunt to start contracting.
“m close–!” you cry loudly, eyes fixed on your own face in the mirror. you can see taehyun behind you, crashing his hips against yours, eyes locked on your face.
“look at you,” he commands, roughly, as he begins to thrust deeper and harder against yours ass. “i want you to– to see how i’m making you feel.”
you obey, keeping your gaze locked on your reflection in the mirror, but you don’t last long, a wave of overwhelming pleasure spreading through your entire body as everything builds to its peak from his cock inside you, to his fingers on your clit.
his name falls from your lips in a broken, desperate whine, and his lips curl into a grin like he knows exactly what that means, like he’s claiming you as his.
finally, claiming you.
his cock spills inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as his throat frees your name as a dark fantasy he’s been planning for years, finally coming true.
his hips slow gradually, the intensity fading as he brings both of you down from the peak together. his hands slide to your sides, fingers tracing slow, grounding touches like he’s making sure you’re still with him.
you lift your gaze to the mirror, trying to gather yourself, and catch his reflection. his expression has changed—still intense, but softened at the edges, lips parted slightly as he exhales through his nose, like he’s just coming back to reality with you.
then his eyes flick up to meet yours in the mirror. a faint, almost satisfied curve forms at the corner of his mouth.
Three months. You'd been teaching Choi Yeonjun for three months, and in that time, you'd learned a few undeniable facts about him.
One: he was possibly the most social student you'd ever encountered. He knew everyone—not just in your class, but seemingly in the entire school. Students would stop by your classroom door between periods just to say hi to him, and he'd light up every single time, launching into animated conversations that you'd have to cut short when the bell rang.
Two: he had never, not once, completed a full worksheet during class time. He was too busy twisting around in his seat to chat with whoever sat behind him, or telling whispered jokes that created a contagious ripple of chaos in the back row, or seeing how many paper balls he could toss into the bin from across the room.
Three: he seemed to take genuine pleasure in getting under your skin.
It wasn't that he was malicious about it, but there was something about the way his eyes would find yours when you were mid-sentence, the slight smirk that would tug at his lips right before he'd interrupt with some off-topic question or dramatic sigh. He'd lean back in his chair just far enough to make you nervous; a posture that said: I know I'm distracting you, and I also know you can't truly be mad at me. He'd “forget” his homework at least once a week, often not even bothering with a half-hearted excuse. And of course, he'd somehow always need to sharpen his pencil during the most crucial part of your explanations. And every time you'd get frustrated, every time you'd have to stop and redirect him, that smirk would deepen just a little, like your annoyance was exactly what he'd been aiming for.
So when his hand shot up in the middle of class, cutting himself off mid-story as he turned away from the students around him, and words you had never heard him utter left his mouth—Miss! I need help with number seven!—you genuinely thought you'd misheard him.
The classroom went quiet. Even his usual crowd looked shocked.
You blinked, chalk still hovering over the chalkboard where you'd been writing out practice problems. “You need help?”
“Yeah!” He grinned, that blindingly saccharine smile that had probably charmed its way out of every detention slip since first grade. “I'm really stuck.”
It had to be a joke. Another way to waste class time, to get you to walk over there just so he could ask something ridiculous or pretend he didn't actually need help after all. That would be exactly like him.
But something in his expression seemed genuine. And despite your better judgment not to trust that innocent look, something warm flickered in your chest: hope—real hope—that maybe you'd finally gotten through to him. That he'd finally take the class seriously, and more importantly, that he’d take you seriously, as his teacher, as someone worth listening to instead of just someone to provoke.
“Alright, let's see what's giving you trouble,” you said, turning away from the chalkboard.
Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the aisle. The classroom had settled into focused silence, heads bent over worksheets—everyone except Yeonjun, who was watching you approach with that same infuriating look he always wore when he knew he had your attention.
He’d already pushed his chair back slightly from the desk, legs spread wide in a careless sprawl that took up more space than necessary. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other resting on the desktop, fingers drumming an idle rhythm. His gaze tracked every step you took, curious and unashamed, and you felt the instant urge to tug your pencil skirt down even though it was perfectly appropriate.
“Here,” he said quietly when you reached him, tapping the worksheet once.
You moved closer, and immediately the scent of his cologne surrounded you—warm amber cut with something spicy that you had no business noticing, let alone liking. Bracing one hand on the edge of his desk, you bent forward to examine the worksheet. Your skirt rode up slightly with the movement, making your bare thigh brush against the rough denim of his knee. You could feel the heat of him through the thin barrier of fabric, could sense without looking that he hadn't moved away, that maybe he'd even leaned in slightly.
You forced a steady breath and focused your eyes to the paper in front of you, determined to find whatever problem had stumped him badly enough to actually ask for help.
Except there were no numbers on the page. No equations, no work shown, no eraser marks from false starts.
Just four words in the center of the paper, written in his messy handwriting:
Wanna go on a date?
Heat flooded your face instantly. It was a physical blow. Your brain short-circuited, unable to form thoughts, unable to do anything except stare at those words while your cheeks burned hotter and hotter. You straightened up so fast you nearly lost your balance, one hand flying up to press against your face as if you could smother the several shades of red spreading across your skin.
“I— you—that’s not—” The sentence collapsed before it could become anything coherent
“Miss, you good?” Yeonjun's voice was soft, yet with barely contained laughter.
You forced yourself to glance at him and immediately regretted it. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had that infuriating confidence, that spark of mischief that had been making your life difficult for the past months, plastered on his face.
“You look a little warm.” His tongue swept across his lower lip before he caught it between his teeth, eyes never leaving yours. “Should I open a window?”
A giggle sounded a few rows over. The embarrassment crept down to your neck.
“I'm fine,” you managed, but your voice came out higher than normal, unconvincing even to your own ears.
“Mmh? Then–” He tipped his head, gaze dragging slowly from your face down to your neck, then back up again, unhurried. He leaned over closer to your space, confidence surging through him. “What’s the answer?”
Before you could respond, his chair tilted back onto two legs, bringing his knee forward until it pressed against your bare thigh. The kneecap made a blunt indent on your flesh, and the sharp heat that spread through your limb set alarms off in your head.
“Yeonjun,” you warned, grasping desperately for your stern teacher's voice.
“You didn’t answer the question,” he interrupted, both of his hands going to pat his lap. Then, louder, projecting just enough for nearby peers to hear: “I really need help with this. It’s kind of important.”
Students were starting to shift in their seats, craning their necks to see what was happening. The situation was spiraling completely out of your control.
“I—I need to step out.” The words burst out desperately as you backed away from his desk, putting much-needed distance between you and that knowing smirk. “Soobin!”
The class president looked up from the front row, attentive as always.
“You're in charge until I get back. Make sure everyone stays on task.”
Soobin nodded, though confusion and concern flickered across his face as you snatched your phone from your desk and made a beeline to the door.
Just before you escaped into the hallway, you heard Yeonjun's voice, bright and smug and entirely too satisfied: “I’ll take that as a maybe!”
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
The door shut behind you, muffling the noise. You pressed your back against the cool hallway wall, chest rising and falling too fast as you tried to remember how to breathe normally. Your face was still burning; pulse loud in your ears.
Not because of the question, but because of the way he’d looked at you when he asked it—like he already knew your answer.
Three months of Choi Yeonjun pushing boundaries in your class, and somehow this still managed to be the most flustered he’d ever made you.
𓅪 synopsis: do you ever truly forget a person? even those whom you have specifically paid to be removed from your mind? no matter how hard some try, some people can never be forgotten because the love and the hurt can be found in even the smallest things. memories easily triggered by nothing more than running your fingers through the grains of sand on the beach where you met, not once but twice.
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wc: 58.2k (omfg im sorry) ✶ warnings: fem!reader, angst, romance, bit of a science fiction au, memory loss, soulmate trope ish, depression, mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, postpartum depression, talks about grief and loss, mentions of blood, multiple smut scenes, bulge kink, size kink, breast play, oral (f!rec), no protection, no pull out mention, lots of kissing, marking, scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, handjob, im so sorry if i forgot some >< pls let me know if i need to add anything <3
ོ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: back to me- the marías
an: i wrote this to make myself cry and im so sorry about that. this is based off the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, most of the movie is spent going through memories and this is a bit of my interpretation of that, although not as heavily as the movie does it. I don't know if it comes off too well here but I hope you enjoy this fic nonetheless <333 i worked really hard on this and it means a lot to me, kinda like my baby it took nearly as long to get it out from start to finish >< thank you so much to @beomiracles @heesmiles and @hyukascampfire for cheering me on for the last half of this fic it would have taken me a year to get this out if not for her and thank you so so so so much to @heejamas and @dawngyu for reading the first half of this fic when it was still happy and sunshine >< ✶ [m.list] [playlist]
He didn't know why he had come. Hands digging into the sand, the grains slipping between his fingers as he tried to recount the moments leading up to the train ride. His bed had been cold even with him in it, curled under the covers with a pounding in his head mimicking the repetitive slamming of a door somewhere down the corridor. The headache was not one that would lead to him calling out of work, and yet he was sitting on a beach in Montauk.
The surf crashing in its constant lullaby drowned out the line of Soobin's questioning. The chill of the last freeze was working its way throughout his body, enough to make him focus only on how red his nose must look, cold enough to fall off without him even noticing. There was still snow on the beach, pushed into the half melted piles around the worn down, sun bleached steps. The sky a hazy blue, only found in the winter months, grey and hidden behind a smokescreen of clouds blocking out any sun.
At first, he had not seen you standing right at the edge of the water. Scarf wrapped round and round, half shielding your face from the sea breeze. Your coat was a size too big, bunching around your wrists, fingers curled in your pockets, numb without gloves.
There had been an ache in your heart the moment you had woken up, hand curled in your pillow, wishing it was the strands of a lover's hair to run through absentmindedly. The thought had been trapped in your mind for a week, seen somewhere or read in a book you shouldn't have been flipping through during your shift at work. But it was persistent, continuously on a loop, your humming mixed with the gentle touch as if you could lull your imaginary love interest to sleep with nothing more than the brush of your fingerprints along their scalp.
It had never interested you to find someone to serenade, someone to comfort. But it had interested you to find that soft song here on the beach, the wind picking up enough to caress your cheek like the brush of a loving backhand. There had been little to do so far upstate except come here and stare at the shore while trying to find why you felt so hollow.
When you had told your roommate about taking the trip upstate, it had been nothing more than a passing sentence. “Montauk?” The word had sounded bitter coming from Kai, like the little beach town had personally hurt him in some way. “Why do you want to go there?” He had been distracted enough to spill his coffee, the counter covered, so you tried to explain whatever it was you were feeling.
“Yeah, I don't know why I just feel this need to go to the beach today.” You had shaken your head, “Don't wait up, I don't have to be into work till the afternoon tomorrow, and I might get dinner out there.”
“You want to take the last train out of Montauk?...” he had let the question linger in the air as if you were missing the context of something so clearly written out for everyone but you to see. For well over a week, it had been like this: Kai with his careful words punctuated with his scrunched brows as he watched you go about your daily life. It made the days feel like a cup at the edge of a counter, his worried looks only making it seem like you were one wrong move from shattering the glass with a careless brush of your sleeve.
“You make it sound like I suggested we should rob a bank and not look at a lighthouse on my day off,” you tried to laugh past it, shrugging on your coat that felt as if it had gotten a size too big in nothing more than a week. You toed on your shoes, hand bracing yourself on the handle of the door as Kai cursed, looking for a rag to clean up his mess, his eyes jumping back up to you like he was worried he missed your exit. It made you pause, brows scrunching. “Is something wrong?”
The question had been weighing heavily on your tongue since the first sight of Kai and his hollow eyes watching you. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, working on assignments, worrying over calls on his phone like someone was sick and he needed updates on their wellbeing. You had known him for years, longer than you knew any of your other friends. This was him after long nights of studying in his college dorm, only coming out for dinner after begging for him to take a break. This was not the smart, sensible Kai who went about starting his first year at his new job right with a neatly arranged sleep schedule.
“What?” he looked caught, playing dumb enough to make you push away from the subject. You would ask again if he kept it up because with the reaction he had now, it felt as if he was desperately trying to hide whatever it was until he fixed it. You would give him time, you would give him space until he was drowning and reaching out for your hand.
“Nothing,” you shook your head, “you can come if you want, I know the first train in, last train out, isn't really for you, especially in the winter, but it could be fun. We don't even have to stay all day,” the offer was a calming olive branch but Kai only looked away.
“I have work, why don't we go next weekend? We can take Yeonjun, and maybe it will be a bit warmer.” he was already fiddling with his phone, “I can ask him-”
“No, don't do that, we can still go next weekend, but I really feel like I have to go today, I don't even know how to explain it. I didn't realize living in the city would make me miss the beach so much.” Because your fingers ached to run through sand like they would run through hair, but it was impossible to say that to him, “And don't bother Yeonjun, he's been here all week, I'm sure he needs a bit of time away from seeing our faces.”
Like clockwork, Yeonjun had found time to spend with the two of you since last Saturday. He would be at the door, twisting the lock with the key Kai had gifted him the second you two had moved, so that someone would have the spare. In hand, he had your favorite warm drink from the shop right next to his place, his eyes scanning for Kai as he hung his coat. You wonder if he had sensed the change in him just as easily as you had. Their soft whispers in the living room lingered in the air when you rounded the corner to collect Yeonjun's kind gift.
But he had not come this morning with his to-go cup offering, and maybe that was because Kai was busy just as you needed to be. “I'll be fine. I'll text you when I'm on the train.” You go through the door before he can get the last word, closing it as you tell him. “Both ways!”
It wasn't until you were already on the train that Yeonjun called, phone tucked to your ear, voice low so the one other passenger wouldn't be bothered too much. “I could have called out, you know I love the little lighthouse, and the beach when it's cold,”
“No, you have been stuck at my apartment longer than your own. I'm sure your home office missed you just as much as your work office did.” Your knees were tucked up against the seat in front of you, arm slung across your stomach. “And the beach will be there next week.”
“I know, just call me if it gets too lonely, okay?” But tucked in between the way he said it was the undercurrent of worry, easily passed over if you hadn't known Yeonjun for years. Because as he tried to brush it off as casual, the glass was still right there on the edge of the counter, even if you weren't in the room. “Call me for anything.”
And almost as soon as you had hung up with Yeonjun, your mother called, the singsong tone echoing in the train as it pulled to a stop. You tucked the phone against your ear, hurrying off to the platform. The wind kissed along your cheeks, your lashes fluttering as you turned against the oncoming sea breeze. “Why are you taking solo trips all the way out to Montauk? It's not even the season for it.”
“Mom-” either one of your friends could have told her, your money placed right over Kai's name.
“No, you should have gone with someone, what if-”
“I'm fine, god. Why is everyone worrying over a train ride? It's not like I’ve never been out here alone, and hardly anyone ever comes out here anyway. Hell, only one other person was on the train with me,” the other lone passenger already headed out in the direction of the beach.
“I'm just worried, what if-”
“I'm fine, I'll text you just as well as Kai when I'm headed back, I'll even send you a picture of the lighthouse.” You shoved your free hand into your coat pocket, fingers already tingling from the cold, balling the digits into a fist, trying to keep the warmth tucked into the space for as long as you could. “I'll call you when I get back if that works to clear your mind.” It was the only way to soothe her enough to let you off the line.
The calls played in your head for only as long as it took you to get to the edge of the water. The lapping rhythm of the surf is enough to make your eyelids heavy. It didn't matter how long it had been since you stood on the edge of the sea; its soft song never ceased to intertwine with your circadian rhythm. And whatever longing you had been feeling was slowly washing away with the tide, pulling the ache in your fingers away until it was lost to the only place that could make you feel whole.
Closing your eyes, you let the wind coming off the water rustle your coat, tug at your red scarf. And like an unfurling ribbon, it went blowing behind you, your shocked gasp at the sudden kiss of cold on your lips more surprising than the way the scarf twisted in the air.
Soobin had been halfway to standing, hand at the back of his thigh, brushing away the sand, just about to leave, when he watched you stumble to rush after the windswept fabric. It was hurtling towards him, unravelling a string of events that would last longer than a lifetime.
He caught the scarf before it could slip by him, your shoes kicking up the sand behind you, as you slowed to a stop from your running, awkward laugh mixed in with his nervous smile. “Sorry, I didn't even realize I hadn't tied it right.”
“It's okay,” he passed it back to you, warmth from his gloved hands already seeping into your greedy skin from nothing more than a brush. “I’ve lost a fair bit of scarves to the wind here, umbrellas, and I think a pair of shoes once.”
“You took the train home barefoot?” You only made the assumption he wasn't from around here because of the shared train ride, the only other passenger stuck to hear your conversation with Yeonjun, and maybe even the one with your mom if he cared enough.
“I still had my socks but not my dignity,” he smiled enough to show the round crater dimple punctuating his cheek like a statement of cuteness, his hair caught in the wind on his brow, easily tossed and pushed aside, begging to let your fingers run through to fix. “So, might as well come to the rescue and return this to you.”
It was a moment, fleeting, and yet unmistakable: “Do I know you?” You were trying to place his face, his build, rifling through your memory looking for spaces that would seem to fit him in, and yet you came back with nothing at all. All except that ache in your fingers. “Or do you shop at the bookstore off of 6th Ave?”
Soobin was caught on your face long enough to get stumped on the question, trying and failing to picture you sitting behind the counter at the checkout, trying again for the counter at the shared coffee shop in the same building. “I do, but I d-” but he couldn't quite place his finger on it; he knew he would never be able to forget a face like yours, and it nagged him to no end when he looked at the dip of your nose and knew he had only just dreamt of a shape so similar.
“That must be it, I see so many people from all around New York, or even all the states,” you wound your scarf back around your neck, tucking the end into your coat. “You should come by next Friday, we are having this huge sale on hardbacks, although if you live far, it probably wouldn't be good to carry all of them through the city,”
“Good to know, I'm only a block over, so it's no big deal,” he felt himself flushing, cheeks and ears red over a casual conversation. Because in everything in him, he wanted to keep talking to you, and it made him embarrassed to feel this crush sink in, in nothing more than a second of easy going. He hadn't had a crush in a long time, not one that suddenly made his stomach twist in that all too familiar way; it wasn't a feeling one forgot often.
“Great, if you stop by my checkout kiosk, I'll give you a discount, a ‘save my scarf savings,’” you giggled, smile hidden, and Soobin wanted nothing more than to catch it with his eyes at least once.
He had never felt brave, not enough to step up to girls and ask questions, never brave enough to rush for the door before it shut just so that he could squeeze in on the ride up a crowded elevator. He preferred to take the long way, hoping that one day he would stumble upon a girl while she took that same trip, but it was never in his mind to reach out first. But now, with you standing here, the two of you the only ones on a beach that felt healing, he asked a question he had never predicted coming from his lips, even on the most confident of days. “Do you want to get lunch with me?”
You watched the way the wind ruffled his hair again, blowing back and exposing his forehead, only to sweep along his temples. And for a moment, there was an inkling of jealousy threaded through the sight because you wanted to be the one to do it at least once. “Of course, I know this little sandwich shop right past the last lighthouse, and I also know how to get us up to the top of said lighthouse to eat if you want.”
Soobin didn't feel a hint of discomfort at the idea. Spending a moment alone with a pretty girl over the water would have made his palms sweat, but with you? He hung onto the invitation like a token of some new beginning he wanted to keep in a jar. “Okay,” the words on the edge of some whispered hope, worried if he spoke too much, too loud, you'd slip away as easily as your scarf had.
There was something easy about the way the two of you fit side by side. As if your footsteps were on top of each other instead of behind you, leaving trails of your passing only a few inches away from the other. Your hands shoved down into your coat pockets, chin tucked as you looked at him, both of you caught on features of the other's face as if you were still looking for something. Because never in your life had you believed what was read in books, that people fall in love with nothing more than a glance, catching sight of something in the other person without having ever spoken a word to them, and just knowing.
Standing here sharing names felt like a rerun of a life you didn't know if you had lived before. Everything was so easy that time slipped away, crunched and forgotten like leaves fallen and blown away until it was only just the two of you sitting on that train back to New York.
You hadn't sat right next to each other, one seat in front of him, leaning over the back of it, peering over the edge like a child caught in her crush. You didn't want to waste too much of a good thing, greedy on the best of days, but not when it felt like if you ran out of him, you'd feel nearly as empty as you had just that morning.
The two of you had spent the whole day together, piecing a life together from all the past things until they made one person you hadn't yet discovered. And you stumbled to understand everything about him, hands pushing back the layers of him, reading the book of him cover to cover, starting with his order at the sandwich shop, all the way to his fear of slipping from the salt rusted bars keeping the two of you from falling over the side of the lighthouse into the sand.
“It feels like I've known you forever,” your fingers aching, the sentiment bubbling up slowly until it was overflowing from your lips, once, twice, a third time, sitting right there in front of him on the train home, wishing that the day wouldn't end so fast. “Is that weird?”
You were slightly lifted, looking down on him in his seat, his stare caught between a look of awe and understanding. And maybe that's what it was, that look of his round brown eyes, drawing lines along your body that had never felt so seen before. Because he only blinked back at you with a lazy grin, the kind that was only there because they didn't know it was, the kind people ask why you're smiling, wanting a taste of that carefree tilt to their lips. “No, not weird at all,”
And he wasn't lying, the pounding in his head was gone, replaced by your giggle, a bell versus that constant slamming of a door he found himself waking up to and not for. “I feel the same way,”
Neither of you knew that it had not been the first time you had met. And neither of you knew it wasn’t the first time you had reached out with steady hands and pushed his hair back and behind his ears, threading through the strands like a memory. That ache satisfied and ignited something that would make it impossible to go out because it had already been kindling, waiting to turn roaring. Only neither of you knew how easily it had been close to being snuffed out entirely after a blow strong enough to leave a candle flickering in half smoke and half desperation.
Because it had been on a beach in Montauk that the two of you had met all those years ago, a summer bustling with people, shoeless and down on dignity, Soobin had stumbled into your life. Your laugh caught him as easily as he had your scarf. Your eyes pinned to his wiggling toes, trying to shake the sand from the fibers of his socks with little progress being made. “They sell sandals right on the edge of the beach, right next to the beach houses.”
“I just think my friends are hiding my shoes from me, they will give them back eventually or i hope so at least.” because Beomgyu had taken them right off of him, tugging on his legs until he could free the shoes while ignoring Soobins shouting, Taehyun holding him down from twisting too much as Beomgyu did the dirty work. But it had been a while since he had seen either of them, too busy mingling with the rest of the summer crowd to care about Soobin and his shoes.
“Well, if they don't, just think of my suggestion,” and it would have been the end right there if it hadn't been that Yeonjun and Taehyun went to the same gym, or even if Kai hadn't shared a mandatory study schedule with beomgyu. The pairs of them suggested taking the last train out, to just stay long enough to watch the sunset over the water, to sit along the sand for as long as it took to watch the families make their ways home to the beach houses littering the shore off in the opposite direction of the lighthouses so neatly waiting at the rocky cliffsides.
No one had brought entertainment, the food had long since been eaten, and Soobin's shoes were found to make excellent toys to kick around between the boys like a makeshift ball. And it had been there where he had found the only courage he had needed to talk to you, no long path, no avoidance, just casual as you watched the way the sky went from a blue primary hue, to pink orangesicle, to a dusty salted dreamscape. Because as the boys played, the two of you started a fire, sat around the embers with knees touching and souls twisting. Talking long enough for the two of you to forget you had come with others and not alone, with only one another.
The two of you dragged behind as you walked, Soobin's shoes in hand, wet and dripping from the final kick, sending them all the way into the ocean, enough so that Yeonjun went in the still sun-warmed water to catch them before they could be lost to the tide. But he didn't even care that he was trekking in sand after him on the train, not when the two of you sat knee to knee, thigh to thigh as you listed your favorite novels. All stocked on the shelves back at your apartment, on the shelves at your job, just waiting for Soobin to buy and find one more chapter of you that he had yet to discover.
And when the train pulled into the station, he had been distracted enough to truly lose his sneakers, left under the seat; he wished he could have spent all night so long as it led to him talking more with you about nothing and everything. And when you two were supposed to split, waving goodbye to new friends and old ones, neither of you wanted to let go.
With Beomgyu on one side, teasing him, and Taehyun on the other, telling Soobin he should have given you his number, he looked back at you across the street looking back at him. And it didn't matter if he looked like a madman, he turned back, hand cupping his mouth as he shouted across that nearly empty New York street right at the head of the subway stairs, “Do you work tomorrow?”
The question had pulled everyone to a stop, your face heating up, not caring if Yeonjun and Kai joked over the clear crush you had formed over a single beach trip, “On Monday! You'll visit me, right?”
“I wouldn't miss it!” Not when he had found someone so interesting he forgot himself enough to shout into the busy city just to catch one more line with you. And while both of you left in the opposite direction, you still wore identical, hazy, love-struck, love-sick smiles all the way home.
It had been instant then, and it was instant now. The unfurrowing of your life lines not crossing once, but twice, when the two of you had done everything in your power to forget one another.
The treatment had been offered as a last ditch effort to pull your relationship out of a sinking ship. A lifeline tossed into the water, thrashing with unrelenting emotions, drowning the both of you until the waves were too high and too heavy to fight. But it had not been like that at first; your ship was just sailing, and the masts were heavy and strong with each gust of wind heading your way. No low going self-implosion waiting on your horizon. At least not just yet.
Because at the start of it all, on that Monday morning, Soobin had called in sick, faked a strained voice with the aid of his sleep-ridden one, and made sure to secure the full day without a blink of an eye. He didn't know when you started your shift, if it was in the afternoon or even at night; all he knew was that he would be there waiting to be checked out with your favorite novel tucked in the crook of his elbow.
He hadn't gotten your number, and distance made the heart grow fonder, so the only replay in his mind was the way you made him laugh and the way he wanted to see you laughing right along with him. And when he arrived, you hadn’t been in sight, the checkout counters bare of people, just as the rest of the store. His languid stroll only made him take in the place as you might have seen it. The towering light washed wooden shelves holding far too many books to not make the place feel cramped in the best way possible. Ladders sitting at the edge of each aisle waited, and he wondered how often you must have had to climb up one for a customer scared to reach a height they hadn't been expecting for a paperback.
And as he rounded that last corner, he ran into you with your apron on, the bookstore logo tattooed on the front in delicate green stitching above the neatly done black of your name. “You came,” your voice hooking him in the way it was just so easily said, an exhale that he had been waiting to feel the second he saw you again. Because it had been a bit like holding his breath. His anxious mind worked to ask him the question: Was she really like how he remembered her, or was it just the salt and the sand influencing his mind?
But it hadn't been the beach, not when you stood so vividly alive there, just as you had sitting next to him on the shore and the train. “I told you I wouldn't miss it,” because anything he had been feeling washed away, and he was just a boy in a store flirting with a girl he felt like he had known for a lifetime.
Soobin had followed you around for your shift, watching you stock the shelves, letting you talk through a book you liked, telling him the plot, the setting, the hook, line, and sinker. He didn't need to speak, didn't feel the need to interject about himself when it was so easy and intoxicating to soak up all the knowledge you laid out before him. Your dislikes were wrapped up neatly in the nonfiction section, and your likes were presented right before him in every little microexpression as you read him the opening paragraph of the one book he had come in searching for.
And when customers came over to speak to you, asking questions, checking out, Soobin stumbled around, busying himself with sorting his feelings as if they hadn't just dumped on him like a bucket of ice cold water. He had never liked someone so instantly, so intensely, so much so that he cataloged your favorite drink from the cafe without a second thought, promised himself to try it if he couldn't kiss the flavor from your lips one day.
And when it was the end of your shift, he was your last customer; he slid the book over the counter with a smile permanently tuned onto his face. “Just the one?” your easy act as if you hadn't spent the whole time talking together, working to make him chuckle.
“Yeah, I heard this great review of it,” the scan of the barcode mingled with your giggle.
“Did you? They must have excellent taste,” you were sitting down, looking up at him, the receipt printing before you tugged it free, taking a pen and writing out your number right on the bottom with a little heart written next to that girl from Montauk. You tucked it into the book, sliding it over to him, breaking the spell of your joking with, “Will you wait for me until I clock out? I mean, you don't have to, I know you spent nearly all day with m-”
“I wouldn't want to spend it anywhere else. I know a great cafe near my place, if you want to get a late lunch?” he had blushed, cheeks and ears a kissable pink as you nodded yes. Because neither of you wanted the day to end, holding onto whatever you could so that the time wouldn't pass like it had that first day. So when your late lunch ended, the two of you walked around the park, sat at the benches looking out over the fountain, and talked like you would never run out of things to say before it was growing dark, and you both had to find a way home.
The air had been cold, dropping to a point that even the dense city couldn't keep out the wind, and you linked your arm in his, taking a step closer so that every few feet the two of you nearly stepped on one another. “So you wanted to be a…”
“Singer,” Soobin shook his hair out at the confession, your fingers drumming along his bicep, reminding him how close the two of you stood. “I know it's a bit embarrassing, but if I could do anything at all besides you know being an accountant, I think I'd be a performer,”
“I think we have to go out to karaoke for our next date.” It had been a slip of words, one he caught and held onto without letting go.
“Next date?” he had taken you right up the stairs, standing outside your apartment door with the front light glowing and golden washing down on you, putting you on the spot. You felt hot all over, face pressing into his arm like it would hide your slip up and yet it didn't matter because you wanted all your cards on the table; you wanted him to see every facet of your mind, even for a blinding second.
“Forget I said anything embarrassing, okay?” You dug around in your pocket for your keys, “and call me after your mind has been erased of my misstep.”
But Soobin didn't care, not when the slip up made him feel seen. He had felt blind, looking for any reason that you might like him enough to keep this up, whatever it was, but he knew he didn't want to be just friends. And finding out now that you weren't viewing him in that way fixed his stomach, unraveling all the knots when his mind had been leading him down a path of self-destruction and irrationalization. “Next time we can see a movie, eat, get drinks, and then karaoke.”
You had looked over at him, smiling, trying and failing to keep it away, tipping down at the edges as you nodded, “Okay,” the soft whisper so hopeful it hurt. You had just opened the door, the handle caught in your hand, as the sound of Kai's laughter rang out into the night, the faint sound of the video game filling in all the space in the hall. " And next time, kiss me before you leave.”
Soobin couldn't help but look down at your lips, eyes flickering from your mouth and back up the slope of your nose to make sure he had heard you right. His nod so shy he felt his palms sweat. It was one thing you had loved so much about him, the way he made it feel like you were the only person who had ever or could ever make him feel this way. The awkward cuteness he found himself wearing so often would trail around the two of you, with every brush of your hand, every kiss, and every word. You watched his throat bob, his mind working so fast he didn't have time to question if it was the wrong thing to do before he was leaning in.
It was a short kiss, his lips meeting yours just enough so that his mind could catch up with what he had done, so he tried to pull away. But you had let go of the doorknob, hand sliding up the front of his sweater in a way that left him aching for more, and you gave it to him, pulling him right back to your mouth and clearing his worries. Because you wanted him just as desperately as he wanted you. The small touches, the gentle laughs, and all the words you could fit between the two of you. Kissing only clarified both of your emotions, made it known that whatever was blooming would be diligently taken care of until it was a packed garden buzzing with life and understanding.
And when Soobin left and went home, he replayed the way your fingers had found their home right to the back of his neck, threading through his hair and tugging him closer. He lay in bed with the echoing of that feeling sinking into his bones like a shot of something he should have never taken, for it was the worst kind of thing to find yourself addicted to. It had only been two days of knowing each other, a few more of knowing of each other, and yet he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and tuck himself as close as he could, to feel the hum of your words on your neck as he pressed his face against your pulse.
It was instantly recognized when you closed your door behind you after that first kiss. Kai looked over at you standing in the entry, caught in that webbing only a crush could tug you into, with your fingers ghosting over your bottom lip, trying and failing to mimic the feeling of his mouth on yours, so you could aid the replay. Your names mixed in with the rhythmic teasing of the words, sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g, your hands covering your face because you couldn't help the smile at the sing-song tilt to Kai's voice.
Soobin had texted that next morning, setting a song for your ringtone, putting a heart next to your name, and deleting it again because he felt silly and like you weren't quite his just yet. But in every sense, the two of you belonged together, even if not visible to the two of you, it was impossible to deny from an outside perspective.
He worked late, woke up earlier, and had little time for himself, but he would make time for you. Before, when he would come home, loosening his tie, he'd kick off his shoes and stretch out on the couch to watch whatever he had been playing to pass the time, or even load a quick game on a weekend that he didn't have to leave the comfort of his home for. Now he was thinking of ways to blend you in without feeling like it was too much too soon. But you didn't mind any of it, taking the opportunities as they came.
So the two of you spent time grocery shopping, Soobin pushing the cart, following you down every aisle, even the ones you didn't need to spend time down, only to spend more time together, just talking and giggling as you went. He carried the bags upstairs, only making you take the bread and eggs even when you complained that you could handle more, while still making time to hold the door open for you when you made it up. Trusting you with the keys and still reaching around you to push it open.
You would sit on his kitchen counter, watching him move around, placing everything away, talking about the way he had empty walls and hardly any furniture. “You live like a college student with your first paycheck,” and when Soobin pulled open his cabinet, he pulled out a single mug and asked you if you wanted tea. “You only have one mug! How are we supposed to enjoy tea together?”
“Well, I didn't think I'd have a pretty girl over who would need her own mug, but I'm more than willing to give her mine,”
He smiled to show his dimples, cute teeth on display when you muttered, “Next date we have to go pick up a picture frame or two, and another mug.”
“I was thinking we could go back out to Montauk for the fireworks show this Friday, but only if you wanted to, or we could do something else, anything you want.” His rambling and pink cheeks only made you nod. Your laugh easing his nerves.
“We can do anything, and I love the beach, there is something about the sea that you can just never forget about, like I think I'll always remember the way the sand feels between my fingers." You held your hand out, spreading each digit in front of you, peeking between them before he reached out, lacing his fingers with yours, the width of his palm eating up your own, the pads of his fingertips soft along the back of your hand.
He had stepped into your space, right between your legs, equal height, sitting up on the counter, looking at each other, remembering your kiss, and wishing you had never stopped kissing him. His free hand rested next to your thigh, his eyes trained on your lips before he leaned in, stopping so close that the two of you brushed noses. So close that it felt easy to confess even something as small as a grain of sand, “You remind me so much of the sea.” Your hand not intertwined with his now threading through his hair, right at the back of his neck, just as he had remembered and prayed for to happen again. Your words whispered so close to his mouth that he could swallow them down and keep them tucked to his heart. “Like you’ll be impossible to forget,”
You had spoken out his exact thoughts, written them out between the two of you just before he kissed you again and again. And it never needed to be more, both of you following the ease with which the relationship was taking you. Breathing so easily, even when you pulled away and knew it was okay, felt that a kiss could be something that wasn't scary and added questions, but something shared because you wanted to, needed to.
That night had been spent on his couch watching movies and playing games, falling asleep and leaning on his shoulder, waking up to his arms around you holding you just as close as you had held him.
Neither of you had asked your friends to come out to Montauk that second time, taking the trip on one of the busiest trains that went out that time of year. With Soobin carrying your picnic basket out and you with the blanket rolled and tucked under your arm, ready to be placed on the sand amongst the families who made it a yearly thing to come out to see the fireworks. It didn't matter that you had only just met, not when you fit so closely that there was no need to stretch out your arms and ask for distance.
Both of you eating and playing a card game, the deck loosely held down by stones collected from the sand so they wouldn't blow away. The world went on around you two. The giggling of the kids being chased by their parents rang out in the salt soaked air, the sun just setting out over the water, as people started their bonfire, getting ready to roast marshmallows, to sit back and enjoy their prepared food and carefully grilled barbecue.
And when the show started, you both sat side by side, thigh to thigh, leaning back on your hands just enough to see the dark night sky bursting with colors. Red and yellow, raining down and casting threads of illumination on the pretty features of Soobin's face. Your eyes traced the shape of his nose, the dip of his dimple, the catch in his smile as he looked up in awe.
Looking at him left no room for questions; if this was a glimpse into a life you could have, you wanted it, reached out with greedy fingers, and begged never to lose. And neither of you felt like letting go just yet, not when the two of you could spend most of your time out on the beach in silence. Picnic left to find the quieter side of the sand.
It was only just up from the crowd that the row of spaced out beach houses rested. Right amongst the long sun lightened blades of grass swaying in the salty breeze. Linking arms, the two of you looked up at the two stories, half lit with families who had turned in early.
“I wonder if people live here year round, if they listen to the sea even in the winter,” you questioned as Soobin's warmth cut through the thin fabric of his jacket, soaking into you and making it easier to speak without thought.
“I don't know if the houses right on the beach are built for much snow. I'm sure they have a hard time keeping all the sand out.”
“It's kinda sad for them to just stay empty,” out over the water, the lighthouse shines, the slow circle of the beam easy to follow from any distance. You're sure that even a lighthouse keeper would find it lonely to spend their days on a cold beach in January compared to nights like this in July. “Imagine all the snow on the beach, that alone feels kinda magical, just to be left empty…”
“You would live in a house like this year round?” The question had set him thinking, picturing a life with you right here on the beach where you met, the sand building in the corner by the front door, watching the water from the porch, sharing a cup of coffee with the mug you had picked out for such occasions so early on in the relationship where it should have been a suggestion to slow down.
But it didn't feel like either of you was moving fast. For a second, it felt as if the blurred edges you had held around relationships had sharpened with a clarity you would have never known, less you met Soobin that day. The suggestion of slowness felt like wading through water instead of swimming through it. If he wanted you to spend time wrapped up in his arms at his place, you wouldn't stop him from asking with a waving yellow flag.
Being with him felt like being in the center of a high school gymnasium dance floor, blue iridescent streamers hanging from the rafters and swaying in a rhythm that mimicked your shy steps on the linoleum. The glowing mirrorball reflecting spots of incandescent light over the two of you, framing you in a world alone where you felt giddy enough to be even asked to share this dance. Soobin was wrapped up in a shyness that did not show inexperience but willingness to learn with a faint hint of worry about messing things up when they felt so fragile. It was that softness that pulled you in, and it was the confidence that you had in him that sent him stumbling right in after you down that rabbit hole of this uncharted relationship.
He didn't care if it felt too soon to just sit and think about you and him sharing a house, dancing in the kitchen, sharing a bed, inviting all your friends over just because you wanted to bask in the giddy glow he was radiating. Being a hopeless romantic felt suffocating on the worst of days, enough so that he had tricked himself into believing he was a skeptic, putting distance between his heart and his sleeve in fear of a stray swing of a backhand that would take years to recover from. He kept his place bare, buried himself in his work, and prayed to stumble on love, and he had gotten what he had wanted.
Everything he had been looking for was standing right at the edge of those sand-covered stairs, your head tilted into his bicep as you hummed in question. “I could see it, and I think I’d love to live right here, quiet in the winter, warm in the summer, seagulls as pets.”
The last line was enough to catch him unexpectedly, giggle genuine and lasting. “Seagulls? They would probably wake us up like roosters do on farms,”
“Built in alarm clocks, maybe we would become morning people? Watching the sunrise as the waves hit the rocks by the lighthouse,”
“As much as I would pray it would be warm, I'm sure the mornings and nights would be a bit chilly. I'd want to spend as much time curled up in bed as I could, snuggling for hours.” Soobin had pulled you in closer, his nose dipping to your ear as he said it, burying his face into your neck at the suggestion. The tickling of his lashes and soft lips made you laugh.
It had been the first night you had spent in his bed, the train coming in late enough for you to worry about him walking all that way back to his place alone. His persistent talk of him sleeping on the couch shut down over and over again. “It's your bed, if anything, I should be the one-”
“I'd never make you sleep on the couch,” he seemed appalled by the suggestion, pushing the door to his room open to reveal the half-made bed, still sleep wrinkled with half the duvet pulled to the side. “Here,” he had pulled out his pajamas from his neatly folded clothes in his dresser, “you can take anything you want to wear to sleep, and the bed is yours.”
It was only after you changed that he finally let you convince him to get between the sheets. The white duvet pulled up to your chin as you rolled your eyes at his suggestion of making you uncomfortable. “I've never felt more comfortable with a person before,” you reached out, taking his hand just to trace the lines of his palm, his fingers twitching from the sensitivity, curling around your own. “I've never been so happy to have met someone,”
The swell of that feeling sat in your chest, not heavy but whole. You slid closer to him, sinking into the dip in the bed his body made, until it would take effort to pull away. His arms were a comforting weight around your body as you lay your head on his chest, tucked under his chin to hear his heartbeat, the erratic rhythm of it making you smile. And you had fallen asleep that first night in his bed, listening to the way his heart slowly started to even out, his body relaxing just as well as yours, melting into one another, tangled legs and syncing breaths.
It had been easy to fit into each other's lives, your friend group getting along enough to spend every other weekend out together at one of your apartments, although your shared place with Kai became a closet as you spent most of your off time over at Soobin's. Within the year of you two being together, you had hung up frames, bought mugs, and shopped for groceries with your things mixed in the cart, Soobin reaching for them without thinking twice.
The six of you crammed into Soobin's tiny living room, the couch only big enough for two and a half. Hence, you wedged yourself into his lap, his arms wrapped around you, the younger three boys sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, while Yeonjun sat focused on the tv next to Soobin and you. Video game controllers taking turns between four of you at a time. It was all you ever needed on a weekend, time slipping past until in that soft, comforting way that made you realize that maybe these little things were all you needed to feel content.
The summer had come in a wave of heat, Soobin, and you were making it out to Montauk for the fireworks just as you had the year before, taking the last train back without the question of where you would spend the night. Pulling open the drawer he had cleared for your things, only to pick one of his shirts to wear time and time again to bed.
There was no loss of that shyness Soobin held seeing you in his bed, no loss of that admiration that you wanted to spend your free time wrapped up in him, with him. He would spend a million mornings watching your eyes open, your first instinct to kiss at his neck, the soft brush of your lips making the corner of his mouth tip up like you had found the button to his happiness right against his adam's apple, his pulse point.
He would shuffle out of bed after you, rubbing sleep from his eyes, watching you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, his hands over your body begging you to just call out, stay back with him in bed so he wasn't so lonely on his day off. You had tried to fix your work schedule to align with his, taking shifts so that you both worked the same, so that you didn't have to resist his pleas, the temptation so easy when he was this warm.
“Stay with me,” his mouth right at your ear, as you rubbed your moisturizer onto your face, his hands slipping under the shirt you had just put on for work, thumbs running soft circles over the skin of your stomach. “I'd make it worth it,” he'd whisper, his fingers just slipping into the waistband of your jeans, tracing along the thin fabric of your panties.
It was nearly impossible to pull away from him, his promises always fulfilled, his words of encouragement and praise filling his small bedroom with each pass of his skilled fingers. Your work clothes carefully tugged off, forgotten on the floor, and not picked up until the next day because you would inevitably get up again at noon after falling right back asleep in his arms. You didn't care if you walked around his apartment in nearly nothing, his shirt taken off his back and given to you, his grey sweatpants low on his hips as he made you both a mug of tea.
You'd sit on the counter like that first time, blowing the steam from your mug that he had picked out for you that first week of being together, one extra in the cabinet for when his mom came over for a visit. Soobin between your legs looking over his own cup with his dark hair a mess from either sleep or your fingers.
And on days when you needed to resist, he would walk you all the way to your job, kiss you, and leave only to come back half an hour later with a cup of coffee, order memorized since that first day, a muffin picked from the display case because he knew you needed something to eat. He would sit in the coffee shop with his laptop, playing games or reading, following you around as you stocked books to plan weekends with the boys. “It's going to snow next week, we could go out to Montauk and sit at the lighthouse drinking hot chocolate,”
“Your birthday is next weekend, don't you want to spend it with everyone?” You had already planned to pick up his cake, the boys saying they would come over with their gifts and games.
“I kinda wanted to rent a place out there, spend it with my favorite person, in our favorite place,” he blushed as he said it, pursing his lips as if he let too much slip, as if the two of you hadn't made it any more clear that you were obsessed with each other. But he couldn't help himself, every passing day he found more that he didn't know about you, more to discover because knowing each other a year wasn't enough when he wanted a lifetime of birthdays spent in bed with you on a cold beach, kissing warmth back into each other with every passing day of new discovered knowledge. “Too much?”
“No,” you let the word out on a short, breathy laugh, “we can do anything you want, you're never too much,” you couldn't kiss him then, not while the store was half full of regulars as you reach up to put a book on the shelf but you want to, felt it calling to you whenever it was that he let that boyish shyness show. “Just let me know if I should invite everyone, even if it's only for a few hours.”
“Yeah, we can do breakfast at that spot right by the apartment, pancakes with a candle in it, that kinda thing, then we take the train out together, I don't really care, I just want you to be there.”
“Of course I'll be there, you act as if I don't basically live at your place.” You couldn't remember the last time you slept alone there. You had made quick visits to see Kai and pick up loose items you hadn't realized hadn't made it over to Soobin's. You still paid rent, and Kai said he'd never kick you out because he would always give you a place to stay, rent or no rent. The only reason he couldn't keep you from paying was because you had the account information to submit your half when it was due. And when the time came that you did officially move in with Soobin, it was never a big transition. Kai kept your room just as it was, your sheets still on the bed, your boxes still in the closet.
“I know,” he shrugged, shoulder to his ear, cheeky smile showing his dimple you found yourself kissing almost too often. “I just like to hear you say it.”
You booked your weekend stay on the beach even if it was going to snow, and changed the plans with the boys so they could catch him before the train ride out of the city. That Friday morning, the six of you packed yourselves into one booth, ordering a table's worth of food, plates clinking from the amount. You had packed a bag's worth of loose birthday candles, enough for every year you were celebrating him being alive. His stack of pancakes punctured with a rainbow of candles, the lighter you had brought going slowly as you tried to light each one, Yeonjun leaning over the table to help take one fast melting candle around to the others, trying not to get wax all over and failing.
Happy birthday was sung loud enough for people to join in over their morning coffee, clapping as Soobin shyly blew out his candles, hiding his face in your neck when the boys didn't stop singing and started to harmonize. “Make them stop,” his laugh caught right against your collarbone.
And when the two of you left to catch your train, you sat in the same seats you always did, right in the middle with Soobin sacrificing the window seat so that you could get the best view, even on his birthday. Your weekend bag was packed together and tossed over his shoulder as he held your hand while you got off. The snow had not started to fall, but would come in the night just as the forecast had stated. Both of you bundled up in your coats, walking close together until you were almost stepping over each other.
“Look at that,” the rental right at the edge of the sand, overlooking the slice of beach just in sight of the lighthouse. The place is big with five rooms, a house made to host people on the summer weekends like the one you had met on. “The street is empty, all except our place.” The road right at the back of the houses void of any cars, even the trash bins are all pulled in and kept away from any blowing winds.
“It's why I could get us the best price at the best place, the beach is private and blocked off just for us.” Even if no one was there, it felt special and all your own, cut away from the city, from everything but your love.
You had picked up the keys where you had been told they would be, fiddling with the lock, trying to get your fingers to steady with the wind pinching them enough to leave them trembling. Tossing your bag down right next to the entrance, not caring about anything else besides making it out to see the sunset over the water before it was too late. Soobin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest, to warm both of you up.
With only the sound of the water, you both sat down in the sand, seagulls gone and the lighthouse making its rounds as the night started to dip to a faded grey, sun caught behind the clouds, so there was only the outline of light along the shore. Soobin kissed the top of your head, keeping his cheek right there over the spot as if that would keep it ingrained into the memory you were both creating.
“I love you.” The words were easy the first time, and so now, when you speak them, it's natural enough not to even be felt slipping from your lips. But the impact is felt just the same, a weight that keeps you grounded instead of suffocated, because he never pushed away your feelings and always responded the same way with “I love you more,” a fight he would die on the hill of each time you shook your head and declared you loved him more.
And even there in the open, he laid you down on the sand, the warmth of his body pressed against yours through the layers of fabric separating you, his hand hot against your skin as he slipped it under your sweater, holding your side. Your fingers cold as you twisted them in his hair, your head thrown back while he kissed along the column of your throat, muttering between each peck, “I need to get you a scarf,” his nose bumped right behind your ear, smelling your perfume, the trail his mouth made turning cold when he pulled away to find your lips again.
He'd have you right on the sand if he wasn’t worried about you getting sick from being out in the cold for so long. So he pulled you up, helping to brush the sand away from your coat before you giggled, giving him one last quick kiss to his cheek before taking off towards the house, “race you!”
It was harder to run in the sand, your feet slipping and heavy to pull up with each footfall. Soobin was right on your heels, laughing and calling out your name as you shrugged off your coat even while the snow had started its dusting. The second you had reached the long walkway up back to the house, the sunbleached wood creaking under you, you dropped your jacket, knowing he'd bend down to get it, giving you time to beat him even with his long legs.
And it was exactly what he did, “not fair!” his laugh trailing through the frosting air, salted with the fast falling flakes of snow. You were already tugging off your sweater as soon as you got to the door, pushing it open because neither of you had cared enough to lock it when it was a ghost town. But before you could step foot inside, his hand, now cold, landed against your stomach, pulling you back against him. “Nope, not this time,” his face icy from the wind pressing into your neck until you shrieked from the shock of it.
You had turned in his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to pull him into your warmth as much as possible. And he let you, cold hands slipping along your bare back, fingers dancing along the clasp of your bra, teasing you with the idea of him unfastening it. Your nose bumped against his, “I win,” your words brushing long his lips, catching in his laugh.
“You cheated.” His tone was dipped in a hazy mix of lust and love-sick desire. His eyelids heavy; body so close to melting into yours.
“I was only making it easier for you, skipping a bit of the undressing.” You pushed your hands into his coat, giving him the hint to take it off, sliding down along the toasty fabric of his sweater until you could slip under the hem.
His stomach flexed under the ghosting of your fingertips, his lips light as they kissed over your jaw, following the line up to your ear as he whispered, “But that's half the fun." His soft inhale of your perfume made him close his eyes, “like unwrapping a present.”
He did want to pull away, not even to undress himself, half rumpled coat caught in the crook of his elbows, sweater pushed half up his stomach, jeans low on his hips, the band of his underwear hugging him just right. You could see it all over him, that desperation kissed along his creased brow, the look of a man who would go to the ends of the earth for one glimpse of you, even if it was through the mist of a heavy mirage.
So when you led him up the stairs, he followed, stumbling all the way after you, stopping at the door to watch the way you fell back on the neatly made bed, sitting up on your elbows. It was a memory that was tattooed into his mind, the way you spilled out on the sheets for him. You took up all the space in his mind, so much so that if anyone walked into the room of his brain you would be the first person they turned to see, that image of you in the sand, in the sheets of this bed, or his own, hung up on the wall like a recall of every good time the two of you shared.
Soobin dropped his coat, grabbing the back collar of his sweater to tug it over his head, not caring where any of it landed when the straps of your bra were slipping from your shoulders, just barely keeping the thin material in place over your chest. “God, I love you so fucking much,” the words bubbling up out of his lips like a confession he hadn't felt slip, his voice dropping into a needy groan as you rolled your hips.
“Prove it,” your chin lifted, smile biting into him as he sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs, fingers curling around the waistband of your jeans, already unzipped and unbuttoned, showing the fine lace of your panties. He would be right at the foot of the bed till the end of time, proving his love, his desperation, his devotion, to you if you had asked.
He was slow to drag the fabric down your legs, your hips lifting to help him get it off of you. Placing one of your ankles on his shoulder, he kissed your calf, trailing up your skin as you leaned forward to brush his hair back from his brow. He wanted to take his time on you, spend all night pulling every little sound he could from the depths of your soul, make you just as flushed and flustered as he always felt when wrapped up in you. And you would let him, your thighs widening slightly just for him to nip at the soft plushness of them.
Your quiet whimpering encouraged him, his cheek pressed to your leg, he reached out to press his thumb over your clit, circling just enough to make your head roll back. “How could someone be this perfect?” and it was the raw honest curiosity in the question that made your heart flutter. The look he casts on you leaves no room for you to be shy. He would not take any head shakes of contention, not when you were already trying to push your hips closer to his fingers, wanting him as thoroughly as he wanted you.
He did not stop his teasing, the slow circles building you up at just the pace he wanted before he pulled away. Your whine was short-lived when he slipped his fingers right into you, smiling at the way your lashes fluttered for him. You tried to close your knees at the feeling, but he had wedged himself perfectly to keep you spread, one arm wrapped around the underside of your leg propped up on his shoulder.
Your eyes screw shut when his mouth falls down to your clit, kissing so softly like a thank you. His hum of approval at your gasp runs along your spine. He leisurely keeps his fingers pumping into you, kisses soft and barely there, content with making you messier, taking his time. There is no room for embarrassment with how wet you are, your hips trying to chase his mouth, needing more pressure, needing more attention.
The desperation is written out in the way you pull him forward, hand cupping the back of his head until you can feel his grin teasing you. He does not make you wait long, your orgasm so close to the surface with his lips greedy to please you, sucking and toys with your clit, fingers building up their speed before he curls them. The pressure makes your thighs tremble around him, your body too weak to keep up, you fall back, arching off the bed with a low whine cumming as he hums against your clit.
Your chest rises and falls with each breath you try to grasp, your hand leaving his head to place over your heart, feeling the way it beats erratically behind your ribs. He kisses back up your leg, leaning his cheek on your knee, watching the way you are nearly spilling out of your bra, face flushed, with your cunt still fluttering around his fingers, he keeps in place to draw out your high. “You're so pretty like this, just a mess over me.”
Soobin's lips are kissably reddened now as he leans down, blowing cool air along your pussy glistening with aerosol, your body jolts at the stimulation barely provided and proving your sensitivity. You're whining at the pout of his face, at the feeling of simultaneously being filled but not enough. His name is drawn out on a whisper as your hips pick back up their grinding, chasing another orgasm as if you had even recovered from the first. “More, please, I need more,” the words just above a whisper.
“More?” It's the tilt to his head that does it, his examination of your body laid out, not cynical but teasing, “Do you think I'll even fit?” he reaches out with his free hand, sliding up your side, pressing down on your pelvis, “Could you take all of me?”
You don't even care if you've had sex before, that he's asked these same questions and got the same answer. Your body was made for him, and yet the words always made you weak in the knees, mind going fuzzy, body aching to have him as deep as he could go. “Please.”
Your whispered plea was a direct line to his cock, already leaking beads of pre-cum and straining in his jeans. He had tried hard to last, to keep his mind, his hips grinding against the edge of the mattress, looking for some form of relief and finding little. He pulled his hands from you, loved the way you sounded as you pulled your knees in together while he stood.
He groaned deep in his throat at the taste of you, cleaning off your wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt, the clinking of the metal making you sit up. You watched the way he slowly undid his button, the outline of him devastatingly mouth-watering as he pushed his jeans down his waist. You reached behind you to unhook your bra, tossing the fabric as he freed himself.
You had never gotten over the size of him, not when the sight provoked your body to clench around nothing, your mind wondering exactly how he did manage to fit. The length of him twitching in his hand as he loosely tugs, your eyes following the movement until you're squirming, watching the way his thumb swirls along his tip. You instinctively widen your legs at the sight, free hand not twisted in the sheets, reaching up to pinch at your nipple, drawing his eyes right where you wanted him.
He can't help himself from climbing on top of you, pushing your hands away to cup your breasts, and peppering kisses along the thin skin. He drags his teeth down to your pebbled nipples, biting and tugging on them until you're whining under him, hips working against his because he's so close to slipping right into you with his cock pressed flush against your cunt. But he doesn't care, not when he's leaving marks along your skin, kissing up your chest until he's back to your lips.
Leaning up, he has his cock laid against your stomach, the length of him high enough to reach your belly button, “look at how deep I'll be in you,” his words a mix of awe and lust as you reach up to twist your fingers in his hair. And when he finally presses into you, he catches your gasp right in his mouth, swallowing it down as he resists pushing in too fast. He can only go as far as the tip before he has to pull back out to try again, taking his time when you're whining at the sheer stretch you feel when he inches in so slowly.
You're clenching around him, trembling and needing him closer. His groan pressed right to your ear when he finally bottoms out, free hand falling to your hip to try and get you to stay still so your body can adjust. “Fucking perfect,” he's muttering, kissing behind your ear as you say his name, lost in a dreamy haze as you melt for him. But your impatience is building the longer he just stays still, his hair held tight in your hands as you attempt to move your hips, but he had you pinned against the mattress under his weight, until you’re desperate enough to beg with tears building at the corners of your eyes.
It's when he finally moves that has you clawing at him, nails scratching down his back enough to leave red marks along his skin. He goes so slow at first, dragging his hips back so that you feel the veins of him, feel the way he just leaves his tip in before he's pushing right back in, building up a pace that leaves you right on the edge of insanity.
Your gasp is twisted into a shocked moan when he moves his hand from your hip and presses down on your pelvis, your body seizing around him while he applies pressure to the bulge of his cock inside you, “you feel that?” but you can't answer, mind a mess, words spilling from you incoherently while you tighten around him, “made just for me,” his voice throaty as he says it against your neck, kissing along the mark he'd made.
He's intoxicated by the way you react, hips dragging just right so that he can feel the way he's bumping just the right spot to make you tremble. Because you're shaking under him, legs widening before he reaches down further to circle at your clit. “Wait,” you're gasping because you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening to the point of breakage, so close to coming undone that you want him closer to keep you together because you know the second you cum, you’ll be falling apart, melting into the mattress without hope.
But Soobin is lost, drowning in the ocean of his desire, finding it harder to keep his moans at bay, lips greedy as they taste the vibrations of your whimpers along your throat. Addicted to the way your body feels against his, the way you draw out the rawest form of himself. And the words bubble up without him realizing what he's saying, the question, demand, plea falling out as he keeps up his pace, hips lulling you to your cresting orgasm, bodies chasing their highs without shame.
“Marry me,” he gasps, breath fanning over your ear.
You almost don't catch it, the words washing over you but not sticking until he says it again, “marry me,” the desperation laced between each syllable. You pull him closer, his hand once holding him up now falling to your leg, dragging up the back of it before hooking behind your knee to stretch you wider, allowing his hips to sink deeper.
The slight change of angle sends a ripple of pressure through your body, cunt fluttering around him before you're cumming, nails digging into his back, body trembling as he lays his weight on you. The rumbling of his moans pressed right against you as he buries his face into your neck, following right along with you as he cums. His stuttering hips stop as he presses in deep, so much farther now like this, spilling his warm cum into you in hot spurts.
He doesn't pull out as he kisses along your skin, a fine layer of sweat coating both of your bodies. And it's between the heavy breathing that he slowly pumps into you again, your soft whine at the slight overstimulation making him chuckle. He pulls back, hand dropping your leg as he finally pulls out, dipping his nose to yours, kissing away your whimper when you feel the warm gush of your combined release spill out after his absence.
You push your fingers into his hair, tucking the strands behind his ear. His cheeks flushed when he put his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose. Soobin was clingy in the best of ways, trying to catch the pattern of your breathing to line up with his. His lips to your pulse, counting each flutter of your heartbeat as if it were a prayer he would have to recite later by memory. And as much as he would love to lie in your arms, melting into one on top of the duvet, he never missed cleaning you up.
And it was only when he pulled away that you started to think about what he had said. The words came back the second that he had flicked on the glowing white lights of the bathroom, like it had only taken that one bulb to turn on for you to finally realize what he had said in the heat of the moment. Marry me. Whispered like a confession instead of a plea, as if he had already known your answer, because you knew exactly how the two of you felt about each other. There was no doubt in your mind, at least not until he wasn't in the room.
He had kissed you, held you, and walked off, leaving you on the sheets with those words hanging in the air, in the light now shining directly onto your relationship. You were caught in your own thinking when he came back with a warm rag, his hand soft on your legs to pull you out of your mind. “You okay?” His question was soft, just for the two of you, a welcome reprieve from the way you turned those words over again and again; marry me, marry me, marry me.
It was not the idea of marrying him that had thrown you off, but how he had not instantly brought it back up. Soobin was a shy mess of emotions most of the time, questioning himself and if he was ‘too much’ in the relationship, unless he was grasping out at avoidance, hoping and praying you hadn't heard him. And it was that which had caught you in the webbing of worry. That maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant to say it at all, or maybe he had and was worried about how you would take it.
You didn't know how to say it, bring it up only for him to get flustered, enough so that he confessed your deepest worry. The one where he hadn't meant it, the one where he said it was in a moment of weakness, that he didn't want to marry you, and the words had just slipped out.
“I'm okay,” you tried to blink away your thoughts, shake your head ‘yes,’ but all you seemed to be able to do was shake your head ‘no.’
But Soobin could see the lie for what it was. The cover-up was a half done job of deception as he cleaned you up and kissed your skin again like an apology. “Are you sure? Was I too much?”
He stood there, brows pulled together, looking at you with his puppy dog worry, his trip to the bathroom giving him the time to pull on his underwear, leaving you feeling exposed only because you felt like confessing your line of thinking was going to have you set out before the two of you, raw. “No, never,” and it was the truth because it was in that moment that you realized even if it would break your heart to know he didn't want to marry you, you would still swallow it down to be with him.
You looked past him to the pile of clothes on the floor, his eyes following until he picked up his sweater, the discarded lace panties still tucked in with your jeans. He picked them up, tugged his sweater over your head, and gave you the space to pull yourself together a bit. It felt so much more intimate letting him watch you pull on your underwear than letting him take them off.
His sweater was still warm from his skin, bringing you comfort to drop the question down between the two of you before you could take it back. “Did you mean it?” The four words tossed out on the bed like a spilled glass of wine, soaking into the air until it was thick with your worry and his confusion. You bit your inner lip, absentmindedly picking at your nails avoiding looking at him like it would be written on his face before he had a moment to hide what he really meant.
“What?” he was caught, not in the way you had been worried about, but in genuine puzzlement over the question itself, and that way you looked on the verge of tears, ready to shatter with his next words like stones on a carefully cleaned glasshouse.
“When you…” The words stuck in your throat, lost in your lungs, dying on what felt to be your last breath, “When you said marry me, did you mean it?”
You looked up, facing your fear with a shovel in hand to bury his rejection deep, the moment you saw the truth written out, even if it didn't match his soft words, to try and cover it up. But he did not look panicked or pitiful, like you had already painted your mind to believe he would be. No, he looked caught, a boy, a mess of innocence who had been asked to explain why in his dreams he reached out for desires unimaginable.
Because he had not realized he had said the thoughts on his mind, tucked a confession in between passion and pleasure like it was a bookmark between pages of a moment, and not a moment he should have written an entirely different story of. And now you were looking at him like it tore you apart to ask, the words a steel blade to his careful plans. He had planned it all out, thought about it the whole train ride over, a whole week, a month, even the moments you had spent right there out on the beach that day you two had met, because he had been sure then, and he was so sure now.
And he had ruined it with loose lips and a mind made of mush because he couldn't help himself when it came to you, and he didn't know how to apologize for ruining his grand proposal without even having realized he had let the words slip in the first place. “Of course I meant it, i-i-” he was hot all over, from his ears down to his neck, hand jumping to his hair to calm himself because this wasn't the way it was supposed to be, not here but on the beach where you two had met, in the snow, together on the lonely sand made less lonely when you had each other.
“Soobin-” because now, watching the way he was panicking, stumbling to find the words to fix the moment, you felt silly for worrying, silly for bringing it up because you should have known, and you did, it was only your fear blurring your sanity.
“No baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize I said it, of course you would freak out, and I just walked off like it was nothing-” he was pacing, thinking over only the few passing minutes after the two of you were done, and analyzing them, “fuck and I said it twice,”
And you couldn't help but laugh, the sound a bubble holding all your pent up fear until it popped, dissipating as he looked at you and chuckled all the same because it was silly and something only he seemingly could have done. “It's okay,” you giggled, nerves settling down, now ready to shake yourself for negative thoughts when he had never done anything to make you doubt him. “Truly, Soobin, it's okay.”
But he pouts no less, sinking to his knees at the edge of the bed as if he hadn't just been there, pressing his face into your bare thighs to try and quell his embarrassment. His arms wrap around your waist as he mutters against your skin, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” You're caught in your place, looking down at him, your hand in his hair, scratching along his scalp in the same way you used to lull him to sleep on late nights.
As much as you had thought about him not wanting to marry you, it hadn't crossed your mind that he had wanted to do it then, that if he had meant to say it, it had only been in practice but not a question for you to answer any time soon. “What?”
He turned his cheek, looking up at you with his chin on your knee, before sitting back on his heels at the look on your face. Because you were searching again for something he couldn't quite decipher, eyes flickering over the bridge of his nose like you were full of disbelief.
The plan had been the beach, nothing fancier than the waves and sand, the lighthouse right on the hilltop, with the snow all around. Him on his knee, awkwardly stumbling through a speech while sinking under his weight, blinking to keep the hair from his eyes. He could see it like it had always been meant to happen, like a memory he had uncovered and needed to replay. But it didn't matter where he did it when all he wanted was to spend it confessing the truth of his love to you, because he couldn’t keep it in, and here was perfect all the same.
“I even got you a ring,” he leaned over, reaching out on the floor for his coat, fumbling in the pockets for the little velvet box he had been carrying around for far longer than he cared to admit, trying to build up the courage.
He was trembling, your gasp making him nervous in ways he had never expected. He knew how scary it would have been to ask you, but the words had already slipped out, and even in knowing you would more than likely say yes, he still had a devil on his shoulder saying otherwise. But it was laying himself bare before you that made his stomach twist in knots, not because he didn't trust you but because he was worried that he loved you too much, that you would look at him and see someone clingy in the worst ways, over emotional and searching for your love in a crowded room of passing affections.
“I was thinking a lot about what I would say and realized I'm not very good with words,” he said with a short chuckle, trying to laugh off the tremor in his voice. It took a moment for him to look up at you, your fingers curled in the hem of his sweater, the one he had pulled onto you to try and find some way to bring you comfort.
Now, you have tears in your eyes. Vision blurry as you looked down on him, dressed in nothing but his underwear, hair a mess of tousled strands, with shaking hands and stammering words. “I wanted to ask you in the place that I first realized I wanted to marry you, the place I knew you were the one. It's kinda silly to be scared now because even if I knew that first day that you would be the only one I could see myself buying a ring for, it's impossible not to be. Because I love you with everything in me. I love my friends, my family, my bed, and still, I never realized love, real love, felt like this. And I feel it in a new way when I'm with you, I read books, I watched movies, I saw how my parents were with each other, and I wanted affection, but I didn't think much of it past just being an emotion people shared,”
“But when I met you, I felt so seen. I didn't have a crush; those words feel so childish because my love for you, my feelings for you, are bigger than anything I can pinpoint in the world. When I say you're made for me, I don't mean it in a possessive way, I mean it in a, I was put on this earth to love you, kinda way. Because when I'm with you, when I'm not, I ache. I think about how lucky I am to have you when you're here, and burn when you're not, and it feels bigger than the both of us, and that is scary, but also very comforting because it only tells me that you are the one,”
“My life didn't feel like it had started until I met you, and I can't think of any other person whom I would rather spend the rest of my life with because you are mine, someone i would never be able to forget, someone i want to spend hours with on this beach, sipping tea, and reading books, sleeping in with, and loving forever, doing exactly what i know i was put here for. So I'll ask again, properly this time, will you marry me?”
He opened the little box, the ring perfect and hardly seen through your tears as you nodded, not caring how you looked and just needing to be closer to him. There was no space at the foot of the bed, but you found a way to wedge yourself into it when you threw your arms around him, face pressed into his neck, the words still on your lips as you said them again and again, “yes, a million times yes,”
The grin he had plastered on his face hurt his cheeks, dimpled, and stuck with the swell of his happiness. Neither of you cared that you were on the floor, your hand shaking just as badly as his had been, and it only made him bite back a giddy laugh. Because he was slipping the ring he had picked so long ago onto your finger, twisting the silver band until it rested just right to place the diamond on display. He kissed your still trembling fingers right along your knuckles before pulling you back in to hold.
It felt a bit surreal the next morning when the sun was filtering in through the gauzy curtains. The diamond caught the light as you held your hand up in front of you, the smile heavy on your lips, Soobin’s body curved into yours, still sleeping soundlessly. You wanted to tell everyone, call up Kai just to gush about the moment, and spill the details of the love confession you had been waiting a lifetime for. Nothing felt half full, not now, not when it was so fresh in your mind.
“Do you like it?” Soobin’s sleep ridden voice caught you, his nose still tucked into your neck, his soft yawn pressed to your collarbone.
“I love it.” It didn't matter what the ring had looked like, not when you hadn't expected to ever be given one in the first place. You couldn't turn away from it, your eyes catching it with every passing moment after he had slipped it onto your finger. While you poured coffee, brushed your teeth, and pushed Soobin’s hair back behind his ears, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking back to him, his words.
It made the house feel all your own, the two of you fitting in like testing the future life you would both share. And even when you made it back into the city, cut from the sea and salt stained air, your happiness followed after the two of you, bled into the monotonous parts of your day. His voice echoed in your mind while you stocked books at work, ‘you are the one,’ replaying over and over, your heart aching to get back home to him, even if it had only been a few passing hours since you had last seen him.
There had been love before, but there was something keenly different about coming back with a ring. Your friends who had known you two at the very start even looked on with softer eyes, truly happy smiles, while you shared over late night takeout, still wedged onto Soobin’s couch, holding your hand out to Yeonjun, giggling like you had shared your crush had slipped a note into your locker and not slipped a ring onto your finger.
“You two are disgustingly perfect for each other,” Beomgyu had joked, his teasing smile turning into something sappy, “I'm really happy for you two.”
It had been so good to bask in the light of your love, to think about what it would look like to see Soobin at the end of a long aisle. It had been easy to ask questions lying in bed late at night, your fingers grazing his cheek as the two of you whispered about wedding plans, flowers, tables, chairs, dresses, and friends. But each night that hazy state of readiness slipped from just a feeling into a blurry question of when.
It had been slow, a passing of time that felt natural to share while engaged, the planning light, dates set and passed without much worry when you were both busy and didn't make things set in stone. It didn't scare you, and neither of you pushed to plan past the late night dreams and pillow talk. And even when the ring had been sitting on your finger for longer than a year with no plans made, you didn't let it bother you.
Or you tried not to.
Soobin did not love you any less, neither of you felt any different, but the weight of the ring began to feel heavy when every new question was swept under a rug you hadn't seen being placed right at the front door of your relationship. You could shrug it off just as easily as it was to brush anything away from your mind, waving your hand at the light teasing remarks made by your friends, coworkers. But each passing word was a stone hitting against your ribs until it was hard not to see the bruising starting to bloom.
“Do you guys just not have a date in mind?” Kai had asked when it was just the two of you out.
“Not really,” you didn't want to look up from the rack of clothes you were distracting yourself with, mindlessly pushing each hanger aside without looking at the shirts.
“Are you…nervous about marrying him?” The question traveled along your skin like a bug you were trying fast to swat away.
“No-it's not- we just never really talk about it,” you felt weird to say it aloud, to confess something you were holding in when you felt it to be small. Because it would be a lie to say you hadn't been thinking about the passing time, that each month that went by, where you talked less about a wedding and slipped back into boyfriend and girlfriend and not fiancés, pained you.
But it felt small because Soobin was seemingly happy with the wait, happy to sit in a still frame instead of moving color. And nothing was wrong, you had not fought, you had not felt him pull away, it was just stagnant, a ring but with no follow through. You didn't want to seem greedy, you had a man, a devastatingly devoted man who kissed you every morning on the cheek after making you a cup of coffee, who followed you around like a love sick puppy, made time and space for you in his day not because you had asked but because he had confessed to not being able to live without you.
But it brought you right back to that feeling in the bed, the one where you sat and told yourself it was okay to swallow down his not wanting more, just so that you had enough of him. You had felt in some way that he had slipped up with his question, caught him too soon, and now, with plans half made, you could not help but think again about him not being ready. And that was okay, you knew it was, you loved him more than a marriage, but it didn't stop you from aching.
“You don't talk about it? Like ever?” You didn't have to look up to know his brows were scrunched, his slight frown working on his lips to pull you to backtrack.
“Well, kinda, I bring it up occasionally, and he always says, ‘we don't have to be married just yet to be in love, we just are,’ and it's very sweet, and he kisses me, and you know I get distracted, and it's just a cycle.” but even that feels like running, the truth heavy on your heels as you lie, “and it's not that big of a deal, he's right, we love each other, we’re just playing by ear,”
“So married…five years after the engagement is likely? Asking so I can possibly get a week off of work and not just a sneaky sick day,” but Kai's joke misses its landing, the words a piano on a string, hanging over your head with no room for you to move away.
Five years was a long time, and you were already struggling with the one year long engagement as it was, and each day, Soobin made it less clear on his direction with the casual wave of his relaxed words. While he was stretching out in the room of your relationship, you felt the walls moving in, not all at once, not enough for you to see, but it was as if the ring had moved every piece of furniture one inch over and you kept almost missing the your seat each time you tried to sit down next to him. You could get used to the room again, you're sure of it, but in five years with no wedding, you're sure the walls would be tight.
The conversation followed you all the way home, like the words had been stones you were forced to swallow, and now they turned in your stomach. Each passing second you sat alone on the couch waiting for Soobin to get back. You had tried to busy yourself, showering until the water ran cold, brushing your teeth once, twice, tugging on Soobin's sweater, trying and failing to calm your racing mind because he wasn't there to quell it.
There had been cracks already spider webbing along the windows of the little glass house you kept neatly placed around your relationship. Each one starting from your own worries, easy to ignore when no one else talked about it, but the conversation with Kai had only turned you to look at the glass, run your finger along the seam, and question if you were really okay.
And you weren't. The more you pressed that bruise, you thought you would get used to the pain, but you couldn't, and you knew well enough that it was wrong to sit in silence and leave Soobin in the dark. He had done nothing wrong, and you knew, telling him, asking him the questions directly on why the two of you were waiting would only help and not hurt.
But keeping it in would hurt. Every time he made those small comments, as if you were already married felt like a reminder that you weren’t. So you talked yourself into it, paced the living room, sat down on the couch, and stood right back up to pace again. It was how Soobin had found you biting at the skin around your nails halfway to standing when he kicked off his shoes. “You okay, baby?” He dropped his bag, suit still neatly pressed even after spending all day at the office, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.
“I-” it had hit you then, the twisting nausea once mistaken for worry over a conversation long coming, now sinking into something swift and unforgiving. Your mouth filled with saliva, your feet carried you to the bathroom before you fell to your knees to throw up.
It was fast and upsetting enough to bring tears to the corners of your eyes. The back of your hand wiped at your mouth, Soobin's hand soft and warm on your back as he rubbed soothing circles, your first instinct to whine, “No, you can't watch me be sick.”
“It's okay, in sickness and in health, right? You can’t scare me off that easily,” and although the words are supposed to make you feel better, they only serve as a reminder of why you were pacing in the first place. Because it felt a bit like unintentional teasing, like you were right on the cusp of knowing the joke but not being able to fully digest it. But it was only in your mind, because Soobin cared enough to buy you a ring, to profess his love, over and over again.
You shouldn't worry, the statement repeated in your mind until it was nearly a reality. It shouldn’t matter if you got married within the year or the next five; it only matters if he loves you. And he does, enough so that he kisses your sweaty temple, and helps you stand on wobbly legs to lean against the sink while he preps your toothbrush so you can feel clean again. How could you wallow in your insecurity when he's done everything to show you he loves you, married or not? Wasn’t it greedy to beg him for a wedding when he had done everything he could to love you right?
And while you rinsed out your mouth, he kept his hand on your lower back, keeping you steady, watching you in the mirror as you brushed away the tears you had been building. “Were you feeling bad all day?”
“No,” at least not enough to get sick over, “it just hit me all of a sudden, I don’t know, I've never felt like that before, at least not without having something bad to eat first,” you sat at the lip of the tub, fingers pressed lightly into your eyes, mind working over the last things you had eaten.
“Maybe you're just getting sick, you've been sleeping in a lot lately, like when you got the flu.” Soobin got down on his knees in front of you, hands sliding up your thighs, rubbing in warmth with the pads of his thumbs, “I could go and get you some medicine, something to settle your stomach if it's still feeling upset,”
You let out a weak whine, pained over your line of thinking for hours, twisting you into knots when Soobin hadn't even brought a ribbon into the equation. You wanted to kick yourself. “No, you just got home, I don't want you to have to go back out.” You dropped your hands down to his, the bathroom light catching the diamond on your finger, “It's probably just my period coming, I'll be fine.”
He was looking up at you, brows knit in his gentle concern, ready to go out even after a long day, just to make sure you were okay, and you were worrying about him setting a date. You felt sick, but only because he was too sweet for you and your worrying mind. “I don't mind the trip, it's right on the cor-”
“No, not tonight, I'm feeling a bit better, it was just a wave of nausea, no need to worry,” you threaded your fingers into his hair, messing up the neat style he tried to keep for work. “Thank you,”
He rolled his eyes, playful and annoying, “Don’t thank me,” he sat up straighter, leaning in, “just give me my welcome home kiss, you missed it earlier,” but you turned your cheek, his lips falling to your jaw.
“No, I’ll get you sick-” but it didn't stop him, his lips falling again and again onto your cheek, down the bridge of your nose, right on the edge of your mouth.
“You just told me you felt better,” he said between each peck, his smile felt along your skin while you wrapped your arms around him, letting him pull you into the circle of his arms. “And a little sickness isn't going to gross me out when I love my girlfriend,”
Girlfriend. The word hit you as bittersweetly as honey flavored cough syrup, but you swallowed it down anyway because he cared to share it with you. And when he kissed you, you kissed him back, pushing past his work blazer and helping to unbutton and untuck his shirt. Not caring that you had already showered when he pulled you in after him, letting him scrub away your worries, kiss them away from your water drop speckled shoulders.
And when both of you were done, dried and laid out on the couch, waiting for the takeout order you had sent in, you couldn’t even remember why you had been worried in the first place. But it wasn't until you opened the takeaway box filled with rice that your nausea came back, the wave of it making your head feel light on your shoulders, with a chill down your spine.
Soobin had been next to you on the couch, chopsticks holding his next bite of food up, his cheeks already stuffed as he watched you run back to the bathroom.
You hardly had anything left to throw up in your system, but it didn't stop your body from tying. And when Soobin's hand was back to rubbing comfort between your shoulder blades, you wanted to cry again. “No, go back to eat, don't worry-”
“No, it doesn't bother me, let me take care of you.” Each word pulled the tears right from you, your emotions overwhelmed with having thrown up, feeling like a little kid at the edge of their bed, needing someone, but not knowing how to call out for them. “It's okay, baby.” he kissed the tear on your cheekbone, “I'll go get you something, okay? I'll be quick,”
It was only after you were done brushing your teeth again for the fourth time that you realized there was another possibility, Soobin pressing a swift goodbye kiss to your temple, already having his coat shrugged on to head out, when you reached out for him. “Could you pick up a pregnancy test?” You’d have gone with him if the word hadn’t made your limbs feel numb all over again, “just to make sure.”
“Okay,” he breathed the word out, let it hang on his lips like he was still trying to understand what you had asked him, but he could see the slight twinge of panic on you and didn't want to freak you out. “And I'll get crackers cause you still need to eat something,” he kissed you again, right at the crease of your worrying brow, “it's okay, I'll be right back, and we'll be fine.”
You watched the door close behind him, your hands shaking as you twisted them together, tugging on your fingers as if that could pull your anxiety fright from them. You could picture the way the two of you had been curled in the sheets, his whispered kisses pressed to the shell of your ear as he hummed, “I don't want anything to change.” you don't know why you picked that memory of all of them to think of while sitting at the edge of your shared bed waiting for him to come back.
Soobin's panic was not felt until he stood right in front of the rows of pregnancy tests, the pink, blue, and white boxes all lined up, warping his emotions into something masquerading as confusion, as if his body knew that's what he needed to lean into instead of worry. He had been here before with you, in well over two years of being together, you had experienced a pregnancy scare twice over, but never had you been sick before making the call to just pick one up just because. Never had you looked up at him like you almost knew the answer.
So he grabbed an array of boxes, all the colors, all the types, single packs and triple, carrying them to check out, watching them get scanned, and coming to terms with what he was feeling. Thought about how it would be to see any of the tests read negative, how it would be to find that it read positive. And it was only when he reached the door of your shared place and knew that in some way he would find himself sad to have you read out that it was negative, and when he pushed open the door to see you worrying, he wondered if you would feel the opposite. Because now while you turned the tests upside down on the bathroom counter, he couldn't help thinking about a baby with your smile, a small, dimpled cheek so easy to kiss when they giggled a laugh made from your love.
Both of you sat with your backs against the bathtub, your body half spilled onto his as he rested his chin atop your head, his cheek falling to your hair as you laid your hand against his stomach, counting his breaths instead of the seconds passing. “We will be okay,” he muttered, his hopeful smile trying to curve on his lips, but he didn't want to give too much away without knowing how you felt.
You were biting at the skin on your inner lip, thinking over all the outcomes, wanting more but fearing it was too much, because it was less about how you were currently feeling and how you would feel. That same game of chicken was playing out just like it had been in that bed in Montauk when he had asked you to marry him. And when you started to think about a baby, a real one with his kind eyes behind dark lashes, you couldn't stop yourself from seeing them in his arms.
But your stomach still hurt, the unknown origin muddling up your thoughts until the alarm you had set went off like someone had pulled a cord on your back to set your hands back to trembling, cupped in Soobins as he kissed along your knuckles, right against the ring he had put there with a promise to love you like he was made to.
He stood behind you, hand heavy on your hip as you lifted the first test, watching you in the mirror as you turned it over, your hand jumping to your mouth as you looked at the little pink plus sign, you reached back out, turning over each test you had decided to take, each one coming back with the same reading. You looked up at him, feeling flushed all over, both of you with tears in your eyes, and for only a second, you were worried, but that was washed away the moment he smiled, his laugh like a child's, pure and uncontrollable.
You two didn't need words, his kisses coming fast, his arms wrapped around your waist, spinning you around as you both giggled, your toes touching the ground only making you breathe out a sigh of shocked disbelief, that test still in your hands as Soobin guided it closer to his eyes. All teeth and dimples when he looked back at you, “God, I fucking love you,” and he was back to kissing you, his soft lips feeling like a thank you, like a confession, his cheeks wet as he started to cry, leaning his forehead on yours when he needed a breath, his palm falling right down to your stomach, his smile watery with his tears.
And you were crying too, crying more so when he got down before you, pushing up the sweater you wore, kissing right under your belly button, your fingers threading through his hair as he whispered right against your skin, “and I'm going to love you so, so, much,”
It didn't feel real for only as long as it took you two to make it to your appointment. The three days of waiting since the test felt as if they went by too slowly, the bubble of your joy encasing the two of you as you vibrated with your happiness. You didn't imagine it to be so hard to keep the positive test a secret, both of you deciding to wait at least until after you had seen the scans. But that first call with Kai felt like walking on a tight rope.
You had rushed to put the phone down, too worried that it would just jump from you in between casual conversation about the next time the boys would come over for dinner. Your hand fell to your stomach instinctively, even if you hadn't been showing since you were hardly far along. There wasn't even bloating, just the occasional nausea and heavy sleeping, missing alarms, and whining every time Soobin reminded you that you had to wake up with the sun.
But you had kept the secret just as well as he had, sealing your lips until you walked into the doctor's office. Soobin had called in to come in a bit later to work, your appointment made for your day off. Both of you sat in your seats in the waiting room, his knee bumping yours as he leaned closer to watch you fill out the forms needed. Your pen hesitates over the emergency contact information, wondering if you should check the little box for husband/spouse, or check the one for boyfriend/partner, under Soobin's name.
When you turned in the papers, it had been only a few minutes before they called the two of you back, the ultrasound room half dark with the soft lights from the machines and monitors. There had been little nerves until you were lying down in the bed, the paper crinkling under each movement you made, Soobin sitting on the stool next to you, holding your hand and bringing it up to kiss your knuckles.
In the half-lit room, it felt easier to confess, “I'm nervous,” when it was the two of you, your fingers toying with his, looking for anything to focus on besides your racing pulse.
“We’re okay and we are going to be okay.” his smile was a balm, his gaze falling over you in a way he had never once looked at you before. Your relationship was a ball of clay slowly being worked into new shapes as each day passed with this new information, as your body worked to grow a little physical form of your love. “I'm actually really excited right now, I feel like I just drank a tub's worth of coffee,” it would explain the way his leg bounced erratically, the thrum of it bumping against the bed like the hum of a car.
“You did have two cups this morning,” you chuckled, soaking in his excitement to try and mask your nerves.
“And I'm really excited to tell my mom,” he whispered like it was a secret, his smile eating at your heart, kissing your soul. “The boys too, I'm really excited to tell them. I've been fighting to keep it in, ignoring everyone.”
“I guess I am a little excited about that,” he kissed your hand again, keeping it in his grasp when the doctor came in, her soft smile and cheerful voice reflected in her words of congratulations.
It wasn't until she had placed the cold gel over your pelvis that she asked the question, “Married?” She had tilted her head as she said it, pulling out the wand for the scan, free hand working to click the keys on her keyboard to get started.
“Nearly,” Soobin had smiled, lifting your intertwined fingers to show off your ring. The word pressed like a weight on your chest, heart skipping a single beat, but there was little time for you to wallow in your insecurity when the doctor placed the wand to your skin, and the echo of waves filled the room around you.
Because that's what it had sounded like, the surf crashing in, pulling you into reality. The doctor's voice was a hum of sound, washed out and faded in the back of your mind as you listened in on the rhythmic swell of the ocean, “Congratulations, your baby has a very strong heartbeat,” she turned the monitor to face the two of you, finger extended out to point at the fuzzy black and white screen, “and here they are, about the size of a little sugar pea,”
It was your gentle sob that broke from you that made you realize the two of you were sitting silent, listening in on the sound of your love like someone had bottled that very moment on the beach, Soobin's toes wiggling and your laugh catching him enough to make him blush right there on the edge of the water where he had confessed his love and you found happiness.
And now both of you were crying, Soobin's laugh pressed to your knuckles, his eyes caught on the screen just as yours were, wet with joy you hadn't known would feel so sunsoaked in the bed of a hospital you'd never been to before. Nothing felt more important than that moment; nothing had felt more real. You wanted to reach down to lay the flat of your palm over the spot you knew them to be, to confess how scared you were, but never scared enough not to tell them how much you love them and would love them.
“They're so perfect,” Soobin sniffled, laughing at himself but not caring because he never knew exactly how happy he could be; how proud he could be for something as little as a heartbeat, but it wasn't little, it was a blanket wrapping around him, and instead of smothering, it was healing.
His fingers trembled as he held the printouts of the scans, the echo of their heartbeat tattooed along his skull. He had thought his life had changed seeing the test, holding you in his arms, telling you everything would work out, but he had been wrong. He had not known what it would be like to have his life truly changed.
Meeting you had felt as if everything was falling into place, like the two of you had always been a picture, and the years together had been the frame around you. But hearing the heartbeat of your baby, seeing them even as small as a little pea, had painted your picture in vivid color.
He loved you because it was the most natural part of himself; if he knew nothing, he at least knew that. Loving your baby was fixing parts of him he hadn't even known needed tending, not because they needed fixing, but just because they could. He cried on the phone with his mom, kissed you like he never wanted to stop, and texted the boys to meet you guys for dinner in the city.
And there in the circular booth of a restaurant that the six of you frequented too often, you shared the news. Held the little sonogram photos up, the golden lights reflecting off the glossy paper, but not enough to obscure the image.
Kai nearly choked on his drink, setting it back down on the table as he tried to clear his throat. Taehyun reached out for the pictures with wide eyes, needing a closer look, shocked into silence. Beomgyu gasped, mouth open in a soft O, leaning in to look at the pictures now in Taehyun's hands. And Yeonjun, sitting right next to you, pulled you into a hug. His warmth triggers your eyes to water, his kind words making the tears spill, “Congratulations,” and says for you to hear and no one else, “you're going to be the best mom.”
You sit back, cleaning at your eyes, laughing like he hadn't plucked his fingers along your heart strings to hum out the single line you wanted desperately to hear. It felt so hard to brush off all the emotions you were feeling as some kind of hormones when all you could picture in your head was spending the rest of your life friends with these very people, good men who would love your child like they were their own, singing songs, playing games.
It didn't matter how you changed because they would be there, giggling on the floor of your living room, spending nights together as a family none of you knew you had been searching for. And now it was only expanding, a seat opening up for a baby you all already loved more than you could form words for. It didn't matter about rings, promises, or distance, when all you needed was late nights like this where you sat at a table laughing over Yeonjun's cheeks being stuffed, and Beomgyus' tearful jokes. Nights where both Soobin and Kai bumped their heads on low doorways and tried to play it off. And nights where Taehyun and you watched laughing from the sidelines.
And tonight, when everyone went their separate ways at the base of the stairs at the subway station, they each held you a little longer when they hugged you goodbye, as if they were letting their comfort seep into your bloodstream just for the little added heartbeat that sounded like the ocean.
You hung the sonogram pictures up on the fridge, next to film strips of you and Soobin kissing cheeks at the aquarium, of Soobin and the boys all trying to mash themselves into one photobooth. And when the two of you had an off day, you stood in the kitchen, your favorite mug pressed to your lips as you looked at the little black and white photos. Soobin coming up behind you, hands warm and slipping under his shirt that you wore, palms heavy against your stomach like a hug. “Spend the day with me?”
“Did you imagine I had other plans on the schedule?” You melted into him, your head leaning right onto his shoulder.
“I just like to hear that you want to spend the day with me,” he kissed right along your temple, letting his lips ghost over the spot as he muttered, “preferably at the beach.”
Both of you knew it was always an option for the two of you, the train ride never one you felt like took too much time when you had the sand and sea waiting at the other end. So you packed a bag just for the day, sat knee to knee on the train, holding hands, watching the city disappear as you both made up fake baby names to see who could get the other to laugh first.
“I like the name rutabaga,” your lips fighting to break into a smile, Soobin's dimples fighting against the soft swell of his cheeks.
“Ruta-” he couldn’t help but laugh, losing as his teeth tried to sink into his bottom lip, “what even- how do you even spell that-”
“It's a vegetable,” you're giggling, the two of you trying to keep it down, your happiness sounding louder in the silent train car. “You seem to like to call them food names.”
“Only because the baby book we got says that right now they are the size of a blueberry, that's a cute name, baby blueberry.” It had been one of the first things he had picked up after walking you to work, slipping the small stack of baby books he had found on the counter. Every morning with his tea, he would sit down and flip through them, content with reading you quotes as you curled up next to him.
“That is cute,” you leaned back in your seat, hand over the button of your jeans, “little baby blueberry,”
And when the train pulled into the station, you walked hand in hand all the way down to the surf, following the same path you took time and time again. It was early enough for the sky to be washed in a grey blue haze, tipped in golden yellow where the sun tried to peek through the cover of the clouds. The lighthouse came closer and closer into view as you walked past the front of the beach houses, half empty and half full, as people started to come down for the early season.
Sitting right at the end of the row of houses was a single house with a sign in the yard, half tucked into its own space, being so far off from the others. Soobin tugged you to a stop, his hands clammy with nerves that you passed off as the warming weather.
He found it a bit embarrassing to still stumble into shyness around you, like he was still who he was before he met you, looking to impress you because he wanted all your attention. He would follow you till the end of the world with his puppy dog stare, circling around your head like a halo he had placed there. For a long time, he had planned this all out, longer than his plan to marry you; it felt like a package deal, like the house and the wedding were wrapped up together with a bow that would only be placed with your answering yes to his coming questions.
When he had proposed, it had been easy to see what he wanted next, to focus on the plans he had seen that second time on the beach when you had watched the fireworks and talked about the snow. Everything was working out, the listing for the house going up only days after the two of you had gone home from the proposal. He had debated it a lot, thought about your work and his, what it would be like truly to live out by the sea.
He wondered if it had only been a dream, something you joked about but never truly wanted, or worse, if you never truly wanted it with him, but you had said yes to his ring, said yes to life with him. So he had put in a bid on the house, looked into his savings, and wondered if it was a mistake or something you would both look back on with happiness.
And then he heard the baby's heartbeat, like a wave on the shore, the final sign telling him that dreams came true every day if you reached out for them and caught them like falling stars. Sometimes they slipped through fingers, and others they landed right in the palm of your hand, and all you had to do was hold on through the ride. So he held on, took the opportunity to look into buying the house, and now here he was with you.
It was on the same strip of beach as the one you had rented on his birthday. The long wooden walkway leading down to the sand, sun-bleached and surrounded by wispy, uncut grass. A wrap around porch already with a built-in swinging bench. The windows bare of curtains, the empty rooms waiting for all of the things you had packed away in your old room at Kais' apartment, all the things you both had picked up for Soobin's place. The two stories would hold the three of you, the baby's room already picked out, overlooking the lighthouse sitting on the cliff, just far enough to not wash the room in light all night long.
He had walked the place only once before putting in his bid, and saw his life playing out right between those walls, the hardwood creaking on the stairs enough to give the house character he was ready to remember.
His hand fell to the back of his neck, fingers trying to calm him in the way you did as he blushed, sharing what he had done. “I wanted to wait to tell you until it was all official. I wanted it to be a wedding gift, and now it's more of a…I don't know,” he tried to laugh, his lips pursing for a second as he looked at your face for confirmation that he wasn't overstepping, as if you hadn’t been dreaming of moments like this with him. “I want you to like it, and if you don't, we can always find a new place, you know, or stay in the apartment, find a bigger one in the city if you want.”
He took your shocked silence as denial, his rambling mouth working to find some way to redeem himself when he didn't need it at all, “my job said they could transfer me out here and i looked into schools and they all seem really good, they even have a after school program that takes them out for swim lessons in the warmer months. And I know that's a long time off, but I thought it would be good to look into and I know it's hectic in the summertime with tourists, but the house has enough rooms to invite the guys or family over and-”
You laughed, watery and unmistakably happy.
“Do you hate it?” because you were tearing up, looking up at him with eyes unreadable to him.
“You bought me a house on the beach where we met,” you whispered, trying to hold in as much as you could without spilling out in front of him like a bag of gems on a table. “How could I ever hate it when I love you so, so, so much?”
“Was it too much?” he reached out for you, thumb on your cheek, brushing along your skin, fingers pressed right under your ear.
“No, you're never too much,” because you didn't feel like you deserved a love like this, not when he made it so easy to love him, so easy to let yourself be loved in return. In a past life, you must have paid all your dues, worked day and night to finally make peace for this version of yourself, and you felt like your luck was running out. That one step to reach for more would break you in two instead of bending you. But if you had spent all your hard work to have someone like Soobin next to you, loving you, you had no reason to ask for more.
To live right there with the sea, with your little heartbeat, and the love of your life, you'd spend a million more lifetimes working to pay off whatever debt you must have been building. He took you to the front door, watching you as you looked around with wide eyes, hand squeezing his as you looked at all the empty space. A fireplace unlit, a wall of windows, a kitchen fit for holidays, and bedrooms made for life.
He had waited to sign the papers until you had seen the house, sharing the place in both of your names, keys hanging next to keychains you had bought at a gift shop down the street years ago. And only a week later you began packing, late nights spent deciding what to keep and what to throw away. Your names were written on boxes carried down the steps by the boys who had helped you guys. A truck rented that was large enough to fit your whole life in without you ever realizing how you had far too little and seemingly too much stuff.
The air is a mix of curse words and laughter, none of them letting you lift a thing, leaving you to tell them where to place boxes. The struggle of getting the mattress up the stairs was worse than when they had gotten it down the apartment's stairs. Taehyun and Yeonjun on either end, one always trying to go faster than the other, and neither of them listening to beomgyu, who insisted over and over again that Yeonjun was one misstep away from tripping and falling backward.
But Beomgyu was already lying out on the couch they had brought in earlier, leaning up on his elbows to shout from the living room as you and Kai unboxed the dinnerware in the kitchen. Soobin was laughing, the echo of the sound heard from all the way upstairs as he told them where to place the mattress. It was one of the last things that needed to be done; the sun only just started to set when you all decided to stay out on the beach.
Taehyun and you stayed back in the kitchen while the rest of them found something to kick around for a game. Earlier, you had paused in the day to pick up things for lunch and dinner just for the day, now you cut up the fruits they had picked, Taehyun happy to take up cooking the rest of the food. He hummed softly under his breath, the echo of the sizzling and chopping the soundtrack of your evening, before he asked without even looking up, “Are you happy?”
The question was not one that was full of concern but genuine curiosity, like he was only asking because he could see it on you. “I'm very happy,” because it was the truth, like you had been captured in a snow globe, only nothing could have shaken you to disrupt the image.
“I'm glad, I'm happy for you, I'm happy for him.” he left no room for anything else but his honesty, like he knew what it meant to you.
“Thank you for everything, the move, and bringing him to Montauk randomly one summer day.”
“Oh, don't thank me for that, any of it, I'm sure in some way you would have met and I would still be moving you two in here, maybe a little bit off from this timeline, but eventually. You two were made for each other,” he transferred his food onto plates as he said it, like it was something he didn't have to think twice about. “Should we call them in or just take it out there?”
“Let's take it out.” So you did, you carried the sides and fruits, setting them down on the beach towel you had put out with a few water bottles for them.
All of you sat down in the sand, knee to knee, listening to the waves like your little heartbeat was right there with you, the boys flushed from running around, eating like they hadn't had a feast for lunch. They all decided to stay until the morning, the lot of them driving the truck back to the city to drop it off. They asked about your new job at the little shop in town, and you told them about how you were going to miss the bookstore in the city, how your coworkers teared up and promised you always had your spot back if you changed your mind, but they knew it was falling on deaf ears.
Kai joked about being sad that his roommate was moving out, even though you hadn't spent a night at your old apartment in years. The six of you leaned back in the sand until the wind off the water started to feel a bit too chilly, your shiver felt in Soobin's arms as he held you. “Okay, let's go in; the boys have something to show you.”
“Me?” You press your hand to your chest, shocked that the night wasn't ending. And even when they took you upstairs to your little heartbeat's room, you didn't realize what you were seeing. You had believed it to be empty, your shopping not having been done just yet. But there, right under the little window looking out to the lighthouse, was a white wooden crib, a mobile of stars hanging down over the center of it like they had known your whole world needed the view of what they would look like in your eyes.
They all turned to you, holding their breath for your reaction, smiling when you pouted, “You guys just like to see me cry, huh?”
“Do you like it?” Kai looked at you so hopefully, his boyish smile breaking out as you nodded, “I love it so much.”
“We researched to find the best one,” Taehyun clarified, “even the mattress and sheets.”
“It was a bitch to build, I pinched three of my fingers,” Yeonjun said, holding up his hand, the tips of three slightly pinker than the others.
“It was only so hard to build because he couldn't follow directions,” Beomgyu interjects. He throws his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into the safe space of his side, like he knew you needed someone there to hold you even for a second, “But don't cry, we even checked to make sure it was eventually done right, Taehyun tested it out.”
“You put Taehyun in the crib?” You giggled at the thought, wiping at your cheeks even when you felt as if you had a million more tears to shed.
“He is baby sized,” Beomgyu shrugs, only feeling brave enough to say it with you blocking him from Taehyun's swift hit.
“We are only a few centimeters off from each other; you act like I'm on the floor in comparison.” he rolls his eyes.
“Thank you guys, truly this is perfect,” but it doesn't feel like enough, like no thank you will even make up for all the good things they have put into your life. And when they go home the next morning, you ache to watch them go, to see them waving goodbye from the driveway of your new life. You had told Soobin to make it a point to invite them often, to tell them never to think they are not welcome over, because you would miss not having easy access to weeknight laughs over video games and takeout.
If you had known what was coming, you wonder if you would have told him you wanted to stay in the city. But there was no way of knowing, not when your last days of happiness were spent wrapped up in Soobin, the two of you lying out on the beach, falling asleep under the sun, half hidden by the umbrella you had set out.
You listened to the sound of the waves like you were back in that ultrasound room listening to your little heartbeat. Your love for both your baby and Soobin was so sun-warmed that it soaked into you as you rested on the beach towels you had spent so long rolling into the perfect position to sit up, slightly elevated. Soobin lying sprawled between your legs, arms circling your waist, his ear pressed to your barely there bump as if the sea was their lifeline, your fingertips tracing hearts and stars on his sun-kissed back, warm and lulling him to sleep when you moved on to threading your fingers into his hair.
This was to be your life, happy and quiet on the beach, humming as the sun set over the horizon. Days spent with Soobin's lips on your skin, reminiscing about the time you went skinny dipping, the time when he had kissed you under the sprinkling snow, and yelled across the streets of New York to ask you when you worked next.
You had spent those first three months of your pregnancy happy. With Soobin's lips pressed to just under your belly button, whispering to your baby like they would talk back, pressing his ear to that barely there swell and humming in response like he already knew their answers. The two of you unpacking slowly because you will have enough time later since you planned on spending a lifetime raising your family between those walls.
Every kiss to your ring finger felt more like a promise and not a placeholder. You couldn't find it in yourself to stress over a wedding when everything was already falling into place. Because he had done what you wanted, he was committed to you, wedding or no wedding. Your baby would grow up loved, and that's all you truly needed.
But that morning, you had felt the first faint undercurrent of pain.
You wonder if you should have known what was coming. That hazy calm before the storm wrapped around you, blinding you enough so that you ignored that first unsteady sway of the boat you sailed on. Only a day away from four months, the first morning you had woken up with the sun and not after it, Soobin still curled around you in bed instead of being the first one awake, trying to sneak away to get ready for work without waking you. The window had been left open just a bit to let in the fresh air, the gauzy white curtains you had picked out blowing in the soft breeze coming off the water. You watched the way the sun filtered in, catching the specks of dust in the air, and listened to the way the surf hit the shore and how the seagulls chirped.
Soobin nuzzled in close to you, pressed his nose right to your pulse point, humming low and content with the warmth of the bed, your body. You didn't need to be up until midday when you and Soobin had plans to grab lunch with Beomgyu and his family. The lot of them renting a house down the road from your own, spending the weekend capturing what had captured you after your first train ride out to the beach.
It was just warm enough for tourists to start pouring in; the tables of every restaurant and café were packed full. But you all had grabbed your food to-go and found a spot near the docks to watch the boats take off.
All of it felt normal, easy, happy, no twinge of foreshadowing staining the edges of your picture. Not even when you waved goodbye to Beomgyu and his family as they walked in the opposite direction from your home and towards the lighthouse. Soobin kissed your head, your hands interlocked, swinging between you two while you held your shoes in your free hands, feet digging into the sand with each step, making you go slower as you watched the water.
“It feels like I'm exactly where I want to be, like I could die right now, I'm just…happy,” Soobin mutters when you're back in bed that night, looking at you in the moonlight with eyes shining, tracing the planes of your face like he was feeling them under his fingertips, following the slop of your nose, the curve of your bottom lip. “I love you so much,” like a prayer said in a confessional, whispered as if it were caught in candlelight and hope. “Nothing could ever change that.”
You had fallen asleep happy, a vase filled with water, a tapestry yet to unravel. And there, the moment you had let hide behind your ignorance, danced to life with one careless glass-shattering swoop, unweaving your endearing dreams.
It had been the sound of the faucet that woke him, the deafening rush of it like an omen whispered off the wind. His stomach had fallen, sinking down in a sea of worry over nothing more than faintly warm sheets, like everything had been fine only a few fleeting minutes ago. His arm was still under your pillow, body curved around the shape of you, except there was nothing but a few spots of blood where you should have been.
The yellowing light from under the bathroom door washed over the carpet, mingling with the moonlight. And even now, Soobin can't help but question that if he would have known what was waiting for him, would he have been able to respond differently. Mold the part of himself that fell into unwavering silence and devotion into something that could have made you stay, that could have brought you back to him.
But he could not undo the past, only erase it, and if there was anything he had wanted to erase, it was that pain; the agony of his loss, yours. And yet down deep inside of himself, he must have remembered that moment, almost as clearly as he had remembered the first time you had met, with his feet sinking into the sand, his heart on his sleeve, and the sea sounding like a lifeline, like a memory, like hope.
He would have fallen to his knees for you then, just as he did there on the bathroom floor, speckled with red and tears, your hands trembling like a caught moth between his, your ring cutting into his palm as you mixed your water-stained words, the cocktail like a shot to his nervous system. “It hurts.”
“It's okay, it's going to be okay-” but he hadn't known if that was true, the words feeling like a lie as they sank to the floor, his arms pulling you in as if that would stop the bleeding, stop the hurt. He would have done anything to take it away, shell-shocked into action, your phone turned downward on the tile as if it had slipped from your hands the moment you had noticed all the blood. He reached out for it, keeping you against him as you cried, tears pressed into his chest as he dialed the only number he could think of when you see that much blood.
He had held you until the paramedics came, his hands trembling while they told him the same things that he had just said to you, as if he were the one breaking apart. He's sure he must have been, that everything was sinking under his skin, but he didn't feel the effects, not just yet, because of the shock of it all. Because there were strangers in his house, dressed up in navy blue, soothing voices slipping right past him when he watched them carry you out, and he was there following after, trying to keep up, his shoes not even half on.
It wasn't until they pulled into the hospital's drop-off lane that he realized he hadn't even closed the door, hadn't even grabbed his keys. All he could see was your hand, so small in his, loosening your grip, the gradual release like an unraveling he wasn't ready to face. “Most of her bleeding has stopped,” the paramedic had said, the line supposed to bring some relief, but all he could feel was that ache, his mouth dry.
And he watched the way your eyes kept shut, squeezed instead of softened by some kind of merciful sleep, tears slipping down your cheeks from the corners as you bite your bottom lip to keep in the sound.
For years, the two of you had kept your relationship like a ball of clay, every new thing learned like a thumb pressed into the piece, molding the two of you into shape, unfired and easily worked. But that night had been a fire, burning and solidifying the two of you into place. If it had been a careless hand, smushing the relationship into a new shape, he's sure the two of you could have made it out.
But when they pulled you into your own private room, the lights a blinding contrast to the rest of the night, half hidden in shadow, they wheeled in an ultrasound monitor and even without the sound turned on, you both knew your ocean wave heartbeat was gone.
Left alone in your room to decide on next steps, the silence weighed heavier than the rush of your sobbing that soon broke. Awful chest-wracking sobs that tried to fill up the emptiness, tried to cover the sound of the roaring fire hardening the two of you into something that could only shatter instead of dent and take new shape.
He held you through the blaze, tried to stay a rock that would not break down, would not cry, not when you needed strength, not when you needed him.
“I'm so sorry.” Your words, drowning around a sadness he could not masterfully describe, were a bat to the glass house of his dreams, swung with no intent to hurt anyone, not even him. And yet they were a gut punch, a soul-leveling whispered statement.
The soft voice of the nurse explained over and over about how there was nothing that could have prevented what happened, nothing that could have been undone. There, they had looked at you, hands clasped in front of them, voice as soft as the look they gave, as if their gaze would add more weight to the crumbling structure above you.
Your hand rested in his, your fingers cleaned by a sweet nurse while his stayed red, your blood drying under his nails. And the only thing that came to his mind was the way the door to the house had stayed open, leaving room for more strangers to come in without knowing the scene they would step into. The undoing of your world before their feet in a way he wasn't ready to revisit so soon.
While the nurse prepped you for overnight monitoring, hooking you up and taking your vitals, he stepped just outside the door, thumbs working fast to solve any problem he could reach for, anything easily obtainable, your phone the only one he had taken in the rush of it all.
The screen had cracked during the drop, the fracture cutting across the background you had picked out of the two of you on the beach, a clumsy phone taken by Kai. Soobin's eyes had been squeezed shut, all teeth and dimples as he laughed, your lips pressed to his cheek.
He couldn't look at himself happy, not then, not when before it had felt like a mirror, and now it only felt like a lie. So he scrolled through your contacts, Beomgyu's name flashed across the screen, his silly face a welcome reprieve, and for the first time that night, Soobin felt his chin wobble. Looking at his friend even in a picture was a constant he needed then, and as the numbers on the call started to tick by, he lifted the shaking phone to his ear.
“Are you okay?” Beomgyu’s voice was a deep rumbling of worry and sleep, and in his mind, Soobin could see the way his brows must have been pulled together, his hand pushing his hair back as he looked at the time, too late in the night or too early in the morning. And then it was Soobin's voice instead of your own.
“I'm-” he hadn't said it in the room with you; instead, he had let it hold his tongue down until it felt solid in place. And now it choked out of him, the force of it moving him forward, “im so sorry,” he tried to hold the tears back, wanted to stay the stoic partner who didn't crumble but the second he had heard Beomgyu’s panic it washed over him almost as if someone had pushed him off the pier after tying a boulder around his waist, he couldn't swim to the surface of his sanity, not now when he was being dragged down by his sadness, his mouth opening but filling with water, with tears.
“Soobin? What happened- what's wrong- where's-” and somewhere in a house on the beach, Beomgyu sat up in his bed and listened to his best friend sob over the phone as if he had his heart ripped out of his chest.
He was trying to wipe his tears, but his crying felt like bleeding, uncontrollable, and he couldn't find the strength in himself to stop it, not when it was this bad, when it hurt this much all at once. “She lost- we lost the baby,” his lips moved on their own, the corners turning down, quivering as he tried to catch his breath, his free hand covering his eyes, pressing into them as if that could stop the spilling.
The words were a blade, cutting across his back, his chest, into his heart, burning and leaving him choking on the ash. He was trying so hard to calm the shaking, to stop the feeling of thrashing happening inside of him. But it was inevitable, the pain, the heartache.
Dreams had not felt real to him as a child, you, had been the person to show him they could become a reality, your laugh was the soundtrack to dreams he never knew he had, your touch making them bloom alive under his skin, and before they had never felt so tangible but now, now he knew the consequences of being so deeply in love with something, someone, some idea, hope. Because this ripped him apart, split him down the middle, and burned.
He sobbed, cried out like he was ready to spill his guts, the sounds feeling so deep within him they might as well have, the tears coming from some reserve he never knew was buried so deep. And beomgyu let him, he listened, he muttered into the hollow of Soobin's chest over and over again that, “it's going to be okay,” the nurses had said it, but he couldn't believe it, it went in one ear and out the other. But here with his best friend at his ear, his brother, he could swallow it down; he had to, for you.
“I'm getting dressed, I can be there in five minutes-” he could hear beomgyu on the other end, shuffling around, climbing out of bed, tugging on his hair as he did when he looked for something.
“No, no, I um- I called because I-i left the front door open, i-” he didn't know how to put into words that he didn't want to lose anymore, not tonight, not today. He sniffled, reigning himself in, his hand sliding along a deck as he tried to pull himself from the ocean, or at least hold on until the tide started to pull back out. “I just need you to lock up, and clothes, I-i don't have any clothes and I'm-” but his chin wobbled again, the tears that had been slowing now trying to wash back up his throat as he looked down at his stained shirt.
“I'll be there, I promise.” he didn't need to say anything else, not when he could hear the war between each breath that soobin was taking, feel it in the way his fingertips had gone numb at the sound of his sorrow. He knew his friend, knew he was trying to pull himself back together even if he had to be on strings to do so. “I love you guys.”
Soobin's teeth bit hard into his lip, the pressure heavy as his throat constricted, his breath held as if that would keep his sob back. He waited until he could handle opening his mouth without it reading the sound of a wound he didn't think would be closed for a long time, “thank you,”
And when the call was over, soobin returned to your room, face flushed a deep red, the corners of his nose, the tips of his ears, the edges of his lips, the rimming of his lashes, and you couldn't hold yourself together. He came to your bed, your hand, tapped over with the IV they had set up, curled into his, clinging with little strength. He didn't care that he probably shouldn't climb into the bed with you, but he did anyway.
He held you, your face flush against his neck, damp with your tears as you spilled out a fraction of your mourning. You didn't speak; there was no need, not even when he got up to collect the overnight bag from Beomgyu.
Soobin could find no other words besides thank you, but it did not feel like enough, not when this was no light thing, but he knew beomgyu would have brushed it off. He would have gone to the ends of the earth for the two of you without question; this was no different, no thanks needed. But soobin knew he could not stay, not when he knew having beomgyu see you like this was not anything you would have wanted. So he left, understanding and with a hug that did nothing but fracture the glass further.
Making quick work of changing, soobin made it back just as the doctors were coming in for another check-up, clipboards in their hands. soobin sat down in the chair that he was expected to spend the rest of the night in, pulling your fingers back to his, he held tight.
“We so very sorry for your loss,” the words hardened something within him, the weight of them tightening his understanding of how his future would look, it didn't matter if it took months, or years for him to grow around the pain, these words would still linger in the backs of so many peoples minds, his friends minds, his own. There would be before this moment, and there would be after. He had seen it faintly in beomgyu when he had hugged him, and now he saw it written across the doctor's faces as they explained how they could make the transition easier.
“Over the last few years, a new type of recovery treatment has been offered here at the hospital. It's minimally invasive and painless, only offered to those who have gone through tragedies such as your own. We know the pain is fresh, and the decision does not have to be made today. Because of the magnitude of your loss and grief, we offer both partners the opportunity to undergo the procedure. But I'll let Dr. Howard explain exactly what it is,”
With that, the second doctor stepped closer to the bed you lay on, the machines beeping into the silence left between the spaces of melancholy. “Hello, this is quite a horrible time to meet, and I am very sorry for your loss.”
Your fingers twitched in Soobin’s at the words, as if you too could feel the weight of the albatross being placed around your neck. “I specialize in the neurological field that targets memory. Through my many years of working with retrieving memory, we have found the very root of how they have been erased in the first place. This led to the memory erasure procedure we are offering the both of you now. It is entirely painless and leaves almost no trace at all that it has been completed; it happens right at home after a single visit to the office.”
“No,” it was instant, almost as raw and true as your tears had been, immediate, and the strongest thing you had said in hours. “I don't want- just no.” because they were offering it to erase the sound of the very thing you had held inside you, not just the sound of the waves but the outline of a dream you never wanted to live without, even when it felt as if it had slipped from your fingers in nothing more than a few hours.
It was too fresh, too painful, but you knew you needed to feel the pain, needed to know that the agony you were going through physically and mentally was because they were real, your baby had been real, they had been an amalgamation of your years spent in Soobin’s arms, an amalgamation of your love for each other. You would not wave it away as if it were nothing more than what it actually was. You would sit, you would wallow, and you would feel their loss, because it was the only thing you had left of them.
“You do not have to decide now, we only come to offer some reprieve in this trying time-” and in a flash, you felt it, red hot anger, it cut through your sorrow sharper than any scalpel they could ever wield.
“Get out- go-” you shook your head, hand shaking in Soobin’s as he tried to clear the air, his face still red but tearless as you silently shed your own at the thought of these people taking anything from your mind.
“We are very sorry-”
“Get out!” it tore through you as if you were as fragile as a piece of paper, ripped from somewhere deep between your ribs, your lips trembling as you tried to hold onto the tears, because as soon as the fire was raging, it was just as quickly snuffed out. As if it had been the last cry for help you could give before it was all over, the last breath.
Neither of the doctors stayed; they apologized once, twice, and left as quickly as they had come. Soobin did not stop them, did not speak up, and there your relationship began to mummify.
It did not happen all at once, but slowly, achingly wrapped up in the emotions you were feeling all the way home, sitting in the back of a cab with your head leaning on Soobin’s shoulder. Your hand resting over your stomach as it had before, the paperwork scattered in the seat next to you, a pamphlet for the memory erasure procedure ripped in two.
The two of you returned to an empty house, made emptier now that you were ghosts of the people you were before leaving that night. Beomgyu had made sure to pack a set of your keys into the bag of clothes he had brought for the two of you. Soobin, carrying the papers, the bag, the keys, unlocked the door for you, letting you step in first.
But you could make it in no more than the doorway, not when you knew what was waiting upstairs, the unmade bed, the bloodied floor, the nursery. You felt your head shake, your eyes squeezing shut as you swallowed down the new wave of tears as they crashed down on the shore of your resolve. “I can't-” it was too much, too soon. Because something in your heart was dried up, wrung tight in a fist that was too strong to be anyone's but your own anguish’s. Here, back in the house you had built and filled with dreams was like walking into a coffin, and going upstairs would only shut the lid.
Soobin's hand was heavy as it pressed to your lower back, warm and flat against you, trying to guide you forward through the mist clogging up the interior. “Here,” he didn't care as he dropped everything down at the doorway, he let it spill, and pulled you to the couch.
Neither of you would know until later that beomgyu had taken the time to change your sheets, stripped the bed you would not want to lie in for days after your return. The bathroom was scrubbed clean when he had not needed to do so. He had come back and cleaned because he knew what it would mean to walk back into this house and see the mess.
So you lay on the couch, soobin flush on his back, holding you against his chest, your hands making fists in his shirt, fingertips just brushing your pulse to remind you that you were alive. Because lying there had never felt more surreal, your body swaying in your mind, the couch a boat on a sea you could not hear anymore.
And maybe that's why you couldn't hear it, because there was no sea at all, just a mountain of sand, so fine it did not brush your cheeks. The wind, his lungs pressed to your ear, the only sound you heard as your world hollowed and echoed the hum of your emptiness back at you, and that one line you had heard soobin speak.
“She lost- we lost the baby,” whimpered from lips trying too hard to keep in sobs.
You wished to reach out at the anger you had felt at the thought of erasing the memory of your happiness. Hold onto it as strongly as a balloon string in the gusting wind, pull it into you so that for one moment it would not be this ache but a fire. Something that cleaned and crackled, spit sparks instead of feeling like a pit that had opened up at the bottom of your feet.
There was no curiosity as you fell down into the darkness, no light looking down on you. It was just nothingness. An empty black void that had no floor. Because as the time passed, as you lay out on the couch, with or without soobin, you looked up at the ceiling and wondered what it would be like to stand and bark instead of cry.
But as you curled into the cushion, the emptiness pressed down like a blanket, comforted you like the hand soobin had pressed on your back when you had walked in. There was no warmth to it, but it was constant, weighty, and easy.
There was no struggle to get up when you did not try; you could stay right there on the couch with no one's company but your own, and shed your incessant tears. That first week, you had learned crying was as easy as breathing, as forgettable if you did not think too hard about it. It happened, and there was no stopping it, not unless you paid attention.
Not until soobin came and wiped at your cheek, his sweater sleeve wet as he sat next to where you had found yourself stuck, melted into the threading. He did not speak, not into the silence that had taken over; he simply helped you to sit up and wrapped his arms around you, held the back of your head as you pressed your face into the soft spot where his throat met his shoulder. You could not find it in yourself to hug him back, arms limp around his waist.
You had been prepared to feel sadness, swallowing that thought down like a mouthful of salt water when you were asked if you wanted your memory erased. The pain would be better than forgetting, but you had not prepared for the way the pain had turned into emptiness. Into nothing at all.
“You should change,” he whispered, the suggestion written down on a list of things you should have done, knew you would have to do eventually, but felt too daunting to do just yet.
The sound of his voice, patient and soft, made your fingers curl into his sweater, as if the words had been the key to getting a small reaction out of you. The thought of getting up, of pushing your limbs farther than the bathroom, made you shake your head. “I don't want to go upstairs,” it was muffled but true, “not right now.”
He did not press, not when you were all bruise, purple, and far from yellowing. He stood, let you fall back to the only safe space in the house, and rest. In the night, he tucked himself behind you as he would in bed and slept, his lips at the back of your neck, his breath like a kiss that helped lull you to sleep that you would not find yourself out of until well into the next day.
Every morning you woke on the couch, your eyes opened to the dust dancing in the pale light, the sky grey, the sea churning. You would follow the trail of it, looking for something to bring you back into the beam, something that made you feel anything like yourself before. But even with the heat of the sun on your skin, there was nothing that could have made you want to climb up the stairs.
You were a knot, braided of twine, fraying around the tension, unkept and struggling to make tea in a mug you had picked out when you thought love would always be enough to make it through anything. You let the ceramic burn your fingers as you cupped your hands through the handle, did not jump when the heat scorched your tongue, or the roof of your mouth.
Tea was all you could keep down, chewing too difficult when your jaw felt locked from your grief, stilled too because soobin had gone silent, in the wake of your depression. He would hum in wordless greeting, kiss your cheek, and change the bedding on the make-shift safe space he held you in.
The couch was the only space in your house that looked any different, a divot made from the hours of rest, a collection of empty mugs scattering the coffee table, a sweater thrown over the armrest where you kept your pillow. Everything else had stayed perfectly the same, frozen and as cold as you felt when you looked upon it.
And that was the cruelest part. That everything moved on as if your world had not fallen apart right there in the bathroom upstairs. That every dream had not been misshapen, that every star you wished on had not blinked out as quickly as flicking off a light switch, when your whole life you had been reminded that the stars shone for you and your happiness. And now this house was a time capsule of your dream now lost, your ring a reminder, and your bed upstairs a collection of memories far too sharp around the edges to touch with your still healing flesh on display.
But you tried, picked yourself up at the small suggestions that soobin made, even when it felt as if it took everything in you. Because how are you supposed to tell the one person who had seemingly stitched you back to life when you hadn't felt like needing fixing that you were nothing more than an open wound that was hemorrhaging the moment you walked past the threshold of your doorway? That there wasn't enough needle and thread to cover the damage that had been inflicted by no one other than yourself. He could try to blot away the blood, pack the site, and place his tourniquet, but it was no use when you felt this far gone.
He had called out of work for you, his gentle voice rough around the edges as he talked to your new boss. The call ending was a vacuum seal to the room, sucking all the air out until you felt the film tightening around your skin. He called his job next, muttered dates and apologies like either of you had anything to be sorry for.
The sweater he had helped you put on, a day ago? Two days? Softened with wear, the laundry detergent scent of your bed, worn away each time the cuff of your wrist brushed clean your tears. The mugs, a mix-matched collection of the years you had spent together, sat, molding at the hollow of them where you couldn't swallow down the last dregs of your pretending.
You could tell him you just needed a bit more time; it was true, but after every utterance of it, where you felt worse instead of better, it felt more like a lie. And as the time went on, days blurred into something like condensation on the outside of a cold glass, you wondered how long he would be able to handle you like this.
A shell of the person you once were for him, someone who was trying to claw their way out of the darkness, but found that, as thick as it might have felt around them, it was made out of nothing tangible, nothing that could have let you sink your hooks in as deeply as it had sunk its claws into you.
He did not show it, did not say it; he kissed your temple, held his lips there, and muttered an ‘I love you’ like a prayer. Like his faith in you would pull you both from the wreckage in time, the ocean thrashing, your nails digging into the hull, refusing to leave because the building of it had been special, your initials carved into the mast. For him, you surfaced, face just out of the water, enough to try and trick yourself into normality.
So you answered the calls on your phone, even when they hurt, and accepted Kai's invitation to lunch. Soobin's careful stare followed you as you changed in the laundry room, still too much for you to make it up to your bedroom, his reminder of how he could come with, call out again from work, hold your hand on the train ride into the city.
Your refusal had been soft and insistent, he had taken care of you like he was piecing together a puzzle someone had carelessly swept off the table. Taking his time and letting the two of you breathe through your grief in their own separate, silent ways, but he was yet to find that you were missing pieces that once had been the center of your picture.
And instead of letting him know, instead of telling him, you took the train, and the second you saw Huening waiting right at the end of the station, you fell apart.
As soon as the doors had opened and you saw your best friend's downward smile, you knew you wouldn't be able to handle it anymore. Shoulders heavy, sagging under the pressure you had felt keeping them up on the ride, your meek smile dipping down as your chin wobbled, you couldn't hold in the tears again.
Limbs weak, he pulled you into his hug, warm and all enveloping, he didn't complain as people split around the two of you right at the doors, like you were standing stones in a stream that roared too loud, too fast. He didn't tell you to stop soiling his shirt while you sobbed into him; he carried the weight of your body as you melted into your sadness.
“You're so strong,” he muttered, like it wasn't a lie you threw at yourself to convince you to make it out here in the first place. He said it like he believed it, and you couldn't take it anymore. You pulled away from him, fingers rough against your cheeks, pushing at your skin to clean away the mess you were leaving.
“I'm sorry.” It had been the only words that surfaced when you looked at anyone but yourself. You bit your lip hard enough to stop it shaking, holding your breath to keep your lungs from struggling. The pain scratched at your throat, rang in your ears like the sound of nails on a door, paint flaking, and wood chipping.
“Don't.” Kai would never demand anything from you, but he drew the line here at you pretending, apologizing. “I wanted to see you, not a lie, you have nothing to be sorry about,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his armpit, and taking off some of the weight of walking.
It wasn't far to the spot you two liked to go, a place that felt safe when it had been there well before your dreams started to change into something that looked a lot like the house out on the beach in Montauk. Here, on the street where the rain soaked into the scuffed, cracked pavement, underfoot, you realized how little you had thought about the senses you couldn't feel. Before, in the house, you had thought it was just the sea, but as the train took off, the tracks sounded faint, the rain did not have its same smell, the horns honking as you crossed the street you used to live on took far too long to reach your ears.
If you had surfaced as well as you wanted everyone to believe, it would not have felt like this. This was you gasping for breath from lips pursed so the water covering your ears still wouldn't slip into your mouth like it desperately tried to. And for a moment, with Kai, you didn't have to keep your arms moving, thrashing under the waves to keep your body up, because he understood you without sitting in the same room.
He was not in the water like soobin was. Kai could reach out without also trying to keep himself afloat.
He would let you cry until your ribs hurt, shake until your bones had gone loose under your skin, and you didn't feel the pressure of having to stop so soon, to realign yourself so that your spine was strong enough to carry the weight of Soobin’s grief too. And it made you feel guilty. Devastatingly so, because you wanted to be strong, to hold him as he held you, and yet all you could do was crumble in front of him.
Here at the cafe of your past, sitting across from Kai, who pressed his knee to yours under the table to remind you of his presence. You could ignore how the scent of coffee did not make you giddy with morning anticipation, how the grinding of the beans, the chatter of the patrons, giggling of the students studying in the corner all sounded dull, traveling under water to meet your ears too late for you to care if someone called your name for your order.
Kai brings your tea over, places it in the circle of your hands resting on the table, and sits in the silence with you, unbroken as you watch the steam rise from your cup. “You're allowed to not be okay.”
And you wonder if he can see the guilt that's clawing up your throat like smoke from a house still burning even after it's sunk to the bottom of the ocean. If, after every attempt at speaking, the evidence is tattooed all the way down to the pit of you.
Blinking, you shake your head, looking anywhere but at his kindness, “No, no, it's not that, it's just-” you circle your fingers around the paper cup, missing the cardboard cupholder that's supposed to keep the heat away. You let the burn numb your hands, distract you from the stuttering, let it ground you enough to spit out the one thing you couldn't find the strength to say when out on the sand. “How can I move on when everything has changed? How do I make it better when I was the one who broke it in the first place? How do you just get back up after this?” and you're not looking for answers, just an outlet that isn't the inside of your own skull, you bite back the tears, “how do I go on when I did this to us?”
“You didn't do anything wrong, it was nothing you did-”
“I know- I know that, but the aftermath, it feels like I'm the one who's holding on, like I can't let go. And he's never asked me to. God, we don't even talk, and I think that's always what it is, my mouth feels too heavy to say anything when I see him, and he’s looking at me like he still loves me, and I don't- I don’t love me. Because I don't know who I am right now, I don't know anything, I just know I'm not who I was, who he loved before, and I'm worried,”
“Worried he won't love you anymore?” he said it like it was hard to swallow, as if he, too, could see that first time the two of you sat on the train together, blushing and giggling like you had known each other a lifetime.
“Worried that I made the wrong decision,” your voice cracks at the confession, split down the middle like a broken heart drawn on blue-lined paper. “Back at the hospital, they told me about this memory thing, that they could take away the loss, and I just- I couldn't. They wanted me to just give it all up, like it would be easy, they made it seem easy, like the loss wasn't something that needed to be remembered, as if it wasn't the only thing I had left of us before I-” your voice gave out, flatlined as you imagined all that blood.
Kai reached out for your hands, twisted his fingers between yours, and pulled you back up for air. “Nothing about this is easy, for either of you, and it's okay to go back and want to redo things-”
“But that's just the thing, I still don't want to forget them, even when it hurts, but it feels like…” like it might as well be the only path you have left to take, like the tunnel you're falling down is already taking you there, because there is no pinprick of light, just darkness. “I don't know,” you look to the glass window next to you, your face reflected, distant and only faintly familiar.
Kai doesn't try to force it out of you, and it's exactly why you knew you needed to do this, have this conversation, sit here in a space that didn't feel like the kitchen at a wake for a funeral you should have never attended. “And soobin? Did he say he wanted to forget?”
“No, we didn’t talk about it,” he had picked up the papers from the floor after that first day, put them away somewhere you couldn't see, and didn't say anything but I love you. “And that's just it, if I forgot, maybe I could be the person I can see him waiting for. Because that's what he's doing, he's waiting for me to be okay when instead I'm just rotting from the inside out, and he doesn’t deserve that, it makes me hate myself.”
Your tears patter down on the hardwood table like the rain on the asphalt road outside. You feel the drip of them from your chin, but you don't clear them, don't care about hiding as kai looks in on the mess you've made. “I love him, but I can't love him, not in the way he deserves, not right now, and it feels like I'm just empty. And I know soon, when I can't even make it up the stairs after months of this, that he will know and he will be too nice to leave me.”
Because all your dreams had turned to nightmares, the only thing that came to mind was the way it would look as he walked out the door. You wanted it to hurt, wondered if then you would feel it as sharp as a knife twisting in your stomach, or if you would have been too far gone. You let everything hang between the two of you now, let it hurt you and be just as unforgivable and inconceivable as you knew it should have been.
“You lost your baby, you're grieving,” and you know he's right, but it doesn't sink in; you won't let it.
“We, we lost our baby, but I'm the one who is making us lose everything else. I can't think about the house, the ring,” you lift your hand from his, your ring feels looser now, turning around your knuckle until it bit into your palm when you curled your fist to feel your nails dig into your flesh. “I was happy, this all made me so happy, and now all I can think about is how he got us that house to fill with life, and I've done nothing but lie on that couch dead.”
“And what would forgetting get you?” The line was a coin you turned over in your head night after night since making it back from the hospital. Soobin's lips just brushing the hair at the back of your neck, enough to remind you he was there, so close you wondered when it would hit you that the cavern you felt between you two was internal.
“It would be easier for him,” but you couldn't stop thinking about how it would be no easy thing to walk in, remembering the dreams you had of holding your baby, a baby you had not yet picked a name for, but knew you loved more than life itself, and leave with nothing, not even a scar. Your lips trembled, “it wouldn't feel like this,”
Because if it hurt, so much so that it felt like you were a black hole, it meant that you had loved them, and it was the love you didn't want to forget. Didn't want to clear out the nursery beomgyu had painted, giggling as he put paint in soobins hair; didn't want to hide the crib the boys had built and gifted to you that first night. You didn't want to forget the way their heartbeat had sounded like the ocean, how soobin had cried and held you, kissed your skin like a promise.
But the sea had stopped making a sound in your empty house, and maybe it was far easier to forget that love than drown yourself in the pit of the sadness it left behind.
You knew Kai could see it, like an outfit you wore, no matter how well you tried to dress yourself up, clean around the edges, comb your hair, brush your teeth, that sadness was still written over you like a red pen to a paper you had spent far too long on to get such low marks. He did not turn away from the sight; he drank it in, having you in front of him, he memorized the divots under your eyes, dark and shadowed by a pain he knew he had little understanding of. All he knew was that your grief was clinging to you like a second skin, bleeding into your soul, and all he could do was be there.
“I think that if you choose to forget, it won't be because you don't love them but because you loved them so much,” his voice was low, solid, and present, “and you have every right to want to hold onto that love, and every right to want to go back to the way things were. But please, please, know that no matter what path you decide, I'll be here for you,”
Your shoulders slumped, your chin turned to the ceiling as you tried to blink away the glass in your eyes, “I know,” you whispered it because it never would have been able to come out any louder than that. “And I want to try, I'm trying to get back on track so that I don't have to decide, so that I don't- I don't want,” and there before you, you dropped your one fear, the one thing that you were fighting with yourself over and over again, "I don't want to lose him like i lost our baby, its killing me, and losing him, it would be too much, i dont think i would ever recover,”
Kai nodded, his frown of understanding enough for you to stop the conversation dead in its tracks. “Small steps, I want to get better, I'll try,”
And when you were headed home, Kai walked you to the train station instead of down the block where your old bed was still made, kept neat behind the door Kai always left open just for you. He held you, and this time, you kept the tears down, clinging to him as if that was the equivalent of a thank you. “Here,” he took your hand, wrapping your fingers around the gift, not letting you give it back. “You will always have a place with me, no matter what happens, forgetting or not, I will never turn you away,”
He kissed the top of your head and sent you off. Your body slumped in your seat when you unfurled your hand to reveal a silver key, your old apartment number stamped into the side, half rubbed smooth from the years it had spent in your purse, pocket, hand. You had given it back to him when he was on the ride home from unloading your life in Montauk, months ago, and now you wished the gesture didn't feel like a step backward instead of forward. But a lifeline was a lifeline at the end of the day, no matter what turmoil it stirred inside of you.
And when you got home, soobin still gone at work, you climbed the stairs. Your hand gripping the banister hard enough to crack your knuckles, you stood looking at the half open door to your bedroom, building the courage to cross the threshold you had been struggling with since you had returned home that night.
It was small, but it was enough, and you were so, so tired.
So you peeled off your clothes and fell into bed, under the duvet, between the sheets that had been unused since Beomgyu had changed them those months ago. You looked up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the day start to settle over you. The conversation had been enough to get you to this point, to the bed you had feared, but it was a bandage, not a scab, over the wound you had been carrying.
Without thinking, just as you had the second you had known you were sharing your body, you placed your hand right below your belly button and let yourself cry. No need to hide or to feel ashamed, as you thought about how far along you would have been, how you would have known if you were going to be having a boy or a girl. You would have stayed up late at night with soobin, genuine names slipping from your lips, whispered with question marks between the ones you giggled just to poke fun at each other.
It hurt to think, but you forced it onto yourself, broke the bone again so that it would be able to heal straight. “I miss you,” you whisper out into the empty room, and you don't know who it's for, yourself, soobin, your baby. All you know is that it's true and all-encompassing.
You sob, horribly, painfully, until you're curling in around yourself, face pressed into pillows that don't smell like him, like you, holding yourself with limbs too phantom to keep you from spilling between the cracks.
It's Soobin’s soft hand on your back that wakes you. He drags his palm across your shoulder blades, fingers brushing the soft skin on the back of your neck. “I didn't mean to wake you.” The room was washed in moonlight, his shadow thrown across your body like a blanket. He was dressed down, out of his work uniform, and cleanly washed, his hair still dripping as he climbed in next to you.
He did not ask about the room change, just pulled you in as he had on the couch, and held you until you fell back asleep.
It was your first attempt at pulling yourself back up; the rest was found in going back to work, in stepping on the tiles of your bathroom as you got ready without picturing the way the speckles of blood had looked like ink underfoot. Instead, you avoided the ground, watched yourself as you smoothed your moisturizer over your cheeks, applied cream on the dark circles under your eyes to try and lessen the contrast of the bruises your insomnia was blooming against the soft skin.
Soobin sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze following each of your movements, watching you in the way one watched a storm roll in over the sea, helpless and accepting. But he did not follow you in as he once had, no soft pleads of you to call out when all he wanted you to do was find some form of normality again.
Neither of you acknowledged the way it once had been, how he would hang off your shoulder, trying to peel off your clothes when you were trying to tug them on. His soft kisses peppering down your neck like a promise of more to come if you just stayed. His lips tasted like honey from tea he had brewed freshly for you, like love you didn't know would grow stagnant.
If you thought too much about it, felt it all at once, you'd have stayed, not because of him, not because he had asked, but because he hadn’t. You would finally wrap him in your arms instead of letting them lie limp around him each night.
You wanted that, to kiss him and not think about how it felt like a reminder of times when it made your stomach light up with anticipation, joy, like little fireflies flickering in tandem with each peck. And maybe that's what you're missing when you leave for work. A kiss from him that feels less like something he does because he's worried, but because he wants to kiss you from nothing more than desire.
“Call me if it's…” too much, you can see it in the way he waves at it, scared to say it out loud. Like if he utters the words, they will become real.
“It's okay, I think it's what I've been missing,” but it's not; it's a lie. What was missing was so much larger than work, and falling into it like he had was not something you thought would fill the space, but was well worth the try.
“I still want to know about your day,” you were standing in the kitchen, looking up at him as he brushed your cheek, holding your gaze as if he could catch what you were feeling in his hands and help you mold it into something else, something that would be easier to carry if you shared the weight of it.
But you smiled, as best as you could make it, like pretending would let it bleed into you and help. You did it for him, for what you were worried about losing, and he smiled back. Something small and fractured, nothing big enough to show his soft dimples that hadn't been seen in months. It made you waver, sway in your step when he leaned down and kissed you just soft enough to make you see how you weren't yet whole again, both of you still two ghosts in an empty house.
You were determined as you walked out to use the time away to recharge, to soak up your pretending of normality and calmness so that when you got home, it would almost feel real. The little bookstore with its sunbleached wooden bookshelves and creaking floorboards was a welcome space to try and heal in.
But it had only just passed an hour in when you felt the filter you tried to hold up over yourself begin to wane. It had not been what you believed would have broken you down. The mothers with their children sitting around the little toy lighthouse under the strings of fairylights, reading and giggling over books you had set up.
No, it had been your coworker, sitting at the checkout desk, her whisper picked up over the small shop as she tried to hold back the sounds of her happiness. She was talking to a boy, who leaned over the edge of the counter as he listened to her every last word. His dark hair was shaggy in his eyes as she leaned in, bumping her nose to his.
It was easier to ignore something you had never felt but dreamed of than it was to watch something you had before slip away. You had not planned to cry, you had found that in this last week, you had gone dry, that the nothingness had taken the well and drained it out as it had your emotions. It was what had made the decision easy to call your boss and tell them you could handle a day shift. No worry that if you thought too long and hard about everything that you would burst like a water balloon thrown right at the pavement.
But seeing some excerpt of your life before had your throat tightening, your swallow thick and hard to choke down as you busied yourself with stocking books you had no intention of reading or looking into, as you once would have. Now it was just a monotonous routine, a performance you went through while you counted down the hours until you could leave.
You did not cry on the walk home, not even when you curled yourself up on the couch as you had that first day you had gotten back, the throw pillow tucked against your chest as if it could replace soobin and his gentle breathing. But you were rocking on the boat alone this time.
If going into work had been to rebuild yourself in some kind of peace, it had done the opposite; it had only been a reminder of how much you had changed, how much your relationship had changed. Maybe in time, it would have been something that would have thinned, worn down into a shape that was completely different than the way you had started.
But it would have been after years, not months, not a single night. You would have lived out your dreams, married, in your house, wrapped up in him, in your bed, kissing like love instead of routine. It's what you dreamt of before he finally got home, his hand on your back as it always was. “Let's go upstairs,” as if he could see the backsliding you were doing down the hill you had been playing at climbing and he was coming in to help you back up the small progress you had made.
So you followed him, and as if he knew your dreams, remembered just as well as you had the morning spent with him, his hands all over, slipping into the waistband of your pants, along your sides as he pushed your shirt free from your body, undressing you. He mimicked the movements, helped you not into bed but into the shower, the warmth of the water fogging up the glass of the mirror until it was easier to play that this was the past and not a reenactment of it.
This was easier, lying against him as he washed you, scrubbed you new because you were not strong enough to do it. His lips on your shoulder, speckled with droplets of water, his fingers scrawled across your stomach as he let you curve into his chest, held you as if he had always been made to, but you just happened to find yourself in separate drawers until now.
And you cried, let the water beat down on you, let it cover your cheeks like the tears spilling because it had been a drought, and today it rained, memories and dreams like falling stars that did not bring wishes but mourning anew. Soobin could see it, worried over it the second he saw you curled back up on the sofa, the indent mimicking the shape of you, worn away and not made for you like he was.
He cleaned you, and didn't bother about cleaning himself when you needed it more. He dressed you in nothing but his old shirt and your underwear, the same as he had seen you waking up in for years, and laid you down in the bed as he had in the sand, holding you to him, twining your legs with his like a loose braid.
Your fingers holding his shirt, smelling like him, your nose running up the slope of his neck as you pulled yourself impossibly closer, wedging yourself against him until all you could think about was the way he felt so strong, so comforting.
It had been so long since you had kissed over his pulse, lips just grazing his skin. It happened, once, twice, where you let yourself lean into wanting him just as you had before it all. You held him, body once stiff, melting into the shape of someone you once were, who you wanted to be again.
And you kissed him, trailing up his throat, to his jaw, the edge of his mouth, where he gasped, not questioning the sudden surge of need, as you tangled your legs in his, rolled your hips closer to him, fingers curling in his hair like a memory.
His body reacted instantly, hot and alive, unfurled as he met you halfway, pushing as you pulled. And when he kissed you, he did not jump back from the way you went from soft pecks, finding your footing, to a full on devouring. Something had been sparked, like an ember tossed from a car wreck, catching in a grassy field, lighting and raging.
You pulled on his hair, moaning into his mouth when his leg brushed against a spot of you that had long since been forgotten. He swallowed your whimpers, matched them when you rolled on top of him, straddling his waist. It was new and yet all so familiar to find the spots of your waist he had held before, his fingers digging into your thighs, pulling you down flush against him.
Your hands rested on his chest, pushing yourself up to catch your breath, to reel in your mind at what exactly you were doing. There, the two of you froze, looking at one another, washed in the moonlight, the sound of your restless breathing the only thing filling the room besides the rushing of blood in your ears.
Soobin lay under you, lips kiss-reddened, hair a mess of inky strands on the pillow, spilling along the threads, his thumbs working circles into your hips, not coaxing but remembering. It was with a painfully fragile look in his eyes that he ran down your body. And for a moment, you almost pulled away, snuffed out the fire like one blows out a candle, but you leaned back down, ghosting your lips over his until he tilted his chin and pulled you in for the kiss you wanted desperately.
He pulled himself up, meeting you as he leaned back against the headboard, his open mouthed kisses finding the landmarks they had missed for so long: the soft spot where your jaw met the edge of your ear, the thump of your heart pressed to his lips, your collar bone, and the hollow it left at the base of your neck.
You were greedy with your touch, limbs now revitalized for this one mission of exploring him the same as you had before, flipping through the pages of a book you had thought was lost as you pulled off your shirt, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers dragging through the fine strands of hair at the back of his head. Your body arched into his as he dragged his nose down your chest, between your cleavage, and kissed at your sternum as you rolled your hips against his, still clothed at the waist and yet never feeling more exposed.
His hands reached around you, holding you close, his fingers outspread along the expanse of your back, the warmth of them all encompassing, dragging down your spine until you were trembling for him. And you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying, silent tears that caught in the pale, glowing light. Didn't notice until soobin pulled away, cupping your cheek. “Baby,”
And it broke you, your lips finding a pout until you couldn’t hold in the sob anymore, you fell forward, burying your face into his neck, clinging to him as he held you. “I'm sorry,” you tried, when you pulled away, shaking your head as you cleared your tears, “I'm fine,” but the words were watery, mixed in with your sniffle as you threaded your fingers back into his hair.
“We don't have to,” he whispered, his hands holding you still on his lap, running up and down your sides, warming you, telling you it was all okay when it was the last thing you felt.
“I want to,” you bit at your lip, trying to stop the way your chin was wobbling. You didn't know if it was a lie or not; you wanted him, you wanted normality, you wanted this moment, you wanted to remember who you were before, but you couldn't have it without tears, without some kind of ache.
“I want you,” you whispered it, looking into his eyes so he knew that, at the very least, was what you felt in your heart.
“I just want to lay here with you, okay?” and you couldn't tell if it was pity or guilt he was feeling, couldn't read this look smoothed between his brows because you could hardly understand your own emotions. All you knew was that it made you cry. The tears followed a trail down your skin, dotting along his shirt, before he cleared them away. “I just want you to come back to me, nothing more, nothing less.”
But you were here, right in front of him, hollow but not in a way that you thought would ever be filled. But you nodded nonetheless, letting him pull you back into his chest, rolling the two of you into your place in bed, the blankets pulled up into place as he kissed the top of your head.
“I love you,” as soft as a first breath, a first kiss, a heartbeat.
And you were broken, ground down to dust, sprinkled like sand, like ashes.
The next day, you called out of work, watched soobin as he got ready, while you stayed in bed, your face pressed into the pillow on his side, looking out the window, half open, watching the surf crash down on the sand. He leaned over the bed and kissed your shoulder as a goodbye, and when he came back, he found you had not moved, and you didn't even realize the sky had gone just as dark as you felt.
He washed himself, slid into the space you had kept for him, and did it all over again in the morning. Only this time, he pulled you to sit, handing you a cup of tea he had made, and cringed when you grabbed the mug around its base and not the handle. He sat until you finished it, and left without a kiss.
There on the nightstand, your collection grew, a new mug for every year you two had spent together, piled up, haphazardly stacked, spoons still glazed with honey, stuck to the hardwood. The bottle of your prenatal vitamins was wedged between the wall and the back of the drawers when you had knocked it over that second night in bed.
The window stayed open to circulate the air into the room, the curtains catching in the breeze, as you watched over and over again how the sea rose and fell without a sound. The silence of it was as loud as your relationship had become.
It hurt, somewhere distantly inside of you, the shape of it circling around the center of you like razor wire. But it wasn't enough to pull you up. All you could think about was how much you wanted to do things, but the energy that would be needed was wasted there.
As you lay, as you let yourself be, you could see the way the only energy you had left was resting like a fine layer of water where your joints met the bed, like you were a glass on its side, still clinging to something but not enough for a mouthful if picked up and swallowed down. You wouldn't have even noticed if the ocean had swallowed you whole.
It's how Yeonjun found you, the spare key you had gifted him so long ago, finally in use after not hearing from you for well over a month. You hadn't even heard the front door open, didn't hear him climbing the stairs, but even if you had, it would have been brushed off as Soobin coming home from work, your perception of time lost.
“Hey,” he said it just from the doorway, your back still turned from him, but you knew his voice, could recognize it anywhere. He had come around when you had been stuck on the couch, but you had turned him away, not wanting him to see you like that. And even if this was much worse, you didn't really care anymore.
You rolled to your side, looking at him with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his face giving nothing away as he looked at the mess your room had become, even when you hardly got up to dirty it. The laundry was piled in the closet, spilling from the hamper so that the door didn't shut, the nightstands with their graves, the sheets just as mussed as your hair, and the sweater you had not changed out of in a week.
The house had become a tomb, stuck in place everywhere except the kitchen and your bedroom. Not one made out of stone, but one of molding mugs, dried tea bags, and silence that sank to the bottom of the floor like deadweight, suffocated and consuming. The dishes piled up, the rack of shoes next to the door empty, the contents spilled out, the mail stacked up next to the bowl of keys collecting dust.
And you, Ophelia in her river, just at the surface of yourself, drowning in clothes now too heavy around your bones. Eyes bruised, pale, and sunken around every soft curve you had possessed nearly a year ago. “I didn't know you were coming.” You didn't even move to sit up.
“I know, you didn't answer my calls.” he pulled out his phone, holding it to give him something to do besides worry, even if it was all his body was doing.
“Sorry,” and he knew you meant it, even when it was said so weakly.
“Don't be, I get to see the beach now, it's been a while,” he stepped in, crossing the threshold into the stale air even with the window open, sitting at the edge of the bed, reaching out for your hand, laying as limp as a flower cut too soon from its stem, fingers curled as if you were just starting to unfurl them. “You're cold,” he whispered, mostly to himself, thumb gently rubbing curled on the back of your hand. “It's colder in here than outside.”
“It's going to snow soon,” you sniffled, pushing yourself up, pulling your hand from his because it felt all too revealing. You pressed your fingers into your eyes, yawning as you stretched your legs out in front of you.
You knew the grey skies and seagulls' departure for what it was, the seasons changing, the crowds leaving.
“Do you remember the summer we spent two days here and I got that horrible sunburn?” he laughed at the memory, and you couldn't help but give the smallest chuckle because you did remember that summer. The one right before you had met soobin, yeonjun had been pink and red all over, sitting up from a nap on the beach and groaning as he realized his grave mistake.
“You laid yourself on the tile floor in the airbnb's kitchen and curled up like a shrimp someone dropped, even your ears were burned.” You pulled your knees up, hugging them closer to your body as yeonjun nodded, smiling at himself, at the fun you had somewhere not far from his house now.
“Kai had to cover me in that slimy off-brand aloe gel we found, and it only took two days for my skin to look like a lizard's,” he had gone back to your shared lecture with sunglasses on just to try and draw attention away from the way his nose had started to peel. You and Kai had picked on him for months after, hanging the picture of him on the floor on the fridge. “You told me that the next year we should come when it snows, that you prefer the less crowded beach in the colder months.”
“Yeah,” the two of you had made it out to the beach, too late in the day to spend much time just watching the water. You had sat in the sand, bundled in your coats, watching them string lights on the long walkway leading up to the lighthouse. The sea had been loud, crashing into every sentence you shared, the wind strong enough to turn Yeonjun's ears just as pink as they had been with his burn.
You can't even remember the last time you set foot on the sand, or the last time was that you made it past the doorway of your room. Yeonjun doesn't ask you to go, not out loud, but somehow you both end up there, right at the end of your winding pathway leading down to the sand, grey instead of its lemon-rine color it holds in the summer.
Yeonjun had helped you put on your coat, now somehow too big for you, bunching around your wrists as you curled your hands into fists in your pockets. Your scarf was still loosely hanging around the collar, the same one soobin had gotten you after proposing, bright and red like the string he had whispered was wrapped around your pinky and his.
And there the sea sat, calm, lulling back and forth, slow enough to drag its sound out until it was stretched thin enough for you to talk. “Stop looking at me like that,” because his stare was heavy when he believed you wouldn't notice, weighty on your shoulders as you kept your eyes locked somewhere in the distance, where the waves broke the grey horizon with its white rolling foam.
“Like what?” but he said it like he knew, because it was obvious, he had carried your mugs down to the kitchen sink even though you had protested, embarrassed all that once seeing them in his arms, even if he wasn't judging you.
“Like you're worried about me,” the wind cut in across your face, your lips pursed as you looked down at your shoes, dark against the sun-withered wood speckled with sand, and yet you still didn't take the final step out onto the beach just yet.
“I am,” he doesn't even try to deny it, as he steps in front of you, sinking in the sand, bending to catch your eyes, following them even when you try to look away. “How could I not be? Look at you,” it's not accusatory, it's laced with concern, pulled tight around ribs that were finding it hard to take a deep breath. “You don't-, you’re not-, I am worried.”
He let it hang between you two, looked right into your eyes as he said it, so you knew, so he could watch you swallow the bitter pill of it down. And still, even when you knew, felt it as deeply as the chill kissing the tip of your nose, you wanted to lie. “I just need time,”
Yeonjun huffed, a sound that was more sarcastic than humorous, “time,” he nodded, biting back anything else he wanted to say, before he just let it go. You could see the battle, watched as he gave up, shoulders sagging, pursing his lips as he turned away from you. “I miss you,”
It sounds so close to the way soobin had said it, I just want you to come back to me, as if you weren't standing right there before them. “I'm right here,” you had wanted to say it there in the dark, shout it out at the sea, at him, at the mirror.
“Yeah.” yeonjun sniffled, his knuckle coming up to rub at his cheek, “I know, just buried.”
“I'm trying,” but you hadn't been, not after the one day of work, a week ago? Two? They had been calling more than you had to ask for time off. You could feel that panic, somewhere flickering in the back of your mind, when you saw their number appear on the screen of your phone, but talking felt too much like teaching a lecture on something you only had an hour to learn beforehand.
Nothing around the house was done, soobin went to work for longer and longer, and the days stretched like an elastic band that had lost its shape. “It's just a lot. I'm working on it. What do you want from me? To take up meditation? Hot yoga? Join a book club for depressed housewives? If you can even call me that.” It had been the most you had spoken in one go, the deflection like a hiss from a cat backed into a corner, too scared to realize this might be someone who wouldn't hurt but heal.
“I just want you to be honest, not with me, fine, whatever, but with yourself.” Your jaw hurt, teeth grinding as you shook your head, your heel dug into the wood, and slid on the sand as you looked back up at the house.
The window of the nursery was shut, the mobile stuck frozen in place as if it had been painted against the glass. Your bedroom window open, the gauzy curtain pulled by the call of the wind rippling like a white flag in the air. “You want honesty?” Your throat was tight, pulled in on itself as you squeezed out the words you needed to say, “i hate who ive become, i hate that i cant feel like i use to, that im numb, and it makes me feel so guilty because he- he still loves me, or i hope so, and that hope makes me feel worse, because he shouldn’t,”
Yeonjun stays quiet, lets you sit with your confession between you two because he's not judging, he's grieving. “This isn't the end all.”
You look back out at the water, to the dark, wet sand where the tide meets the shore. “Like I said, I'm trying,”
The two of you stood out there for far longer than you had expected, shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, but enough for you to feel the warmth of him. And when you both made it back to the house, yeonjun picked through your fridge, the eclectic array of foods had been bought by soobin on short trips to the store on the way home from work. But it was enough for yeonjun to piece together a meal for the two of you to sit and share.
He cleaned after himself even after your protesting, washing every dish in the sink, stacking the ceramic plates and cutlery like Jenga blocks, playing at his own private game he was positive he would win after convincing you to shower.
And when you were clean, your hair still wet, Yeonjun kissed your head, scuffing over the spot with his coat sleeve as if he were cleaning a window, a joke he found funny every single time he did it. Your smile was slow but genuine; his was melancholy-tinted at the edges. “Don't stay a stranger,”
“I won't,” although neither of you knew if it was true or not, but it was enough. He left to catch a late train back into the city, looking over his shoulder at you when the door was closed.
It was only the next morning that you found yourself up early, far earlier than soobin, who slept soundlessly on his back, one arm tucked under your head like a pillow, when you opened your eyes. His chest rose and fell, and you mourned to feel so far away from him.
Without waking him, you made your way downstairs, following the same monotonous routine that felt easiest on days like this. Filling the tea kettle, you set it on the stove, clicking once, twice, on the burner until it caught with its flame.
The mugs all sat in the dish rack, half emptied in your attempt to keep up with the boost Yeonjun’s visit had brought you. And when the phone rang, you answered, knowing it was your boss, knowing you didn't feel up to going to work, and yet still you felt dejected when she muttered a soft, “We're really sorry, but it's just not working out, if we need an extra set of hands in the busy season we will give you a call, but for now it's just not the right fit anymore. I'm sorry.”
“No, it's okay, I understand,” because you did, wholeheartedly, you had called out more times than you had been in the building itself. Most times, you hadn't even called, and you were new, not like how you had kept the same job in the city for years, the seniority and friendships giving more grace.
You should have seen it coming, smelled it out when the calls kept coming and you didn't pick up, the denial written off as anything else but what it actually was.
The first mug to fall had been an accident. The brush of your sleeve as you placed your phone down had sent it toppling. The tea bag pressed under the broken ceramic. The watercolor painting of the lighthouse cracked in two, severed in a diagonal, like a sword had been wielded right through the memory.
The little Montauk slogan found on hats, shirts, and coffee mugs is kept in perfect view. The catchy little joke because the beach was right at the very tip of New York's east end, just dipping into the Atlantic Ocean.
at the end. Montauk, NY.
You had picked it up on your first solo trip out together, where you kissed his cheek over and over again as if you could spare the touches like grains of sand, giggling as you held the mug up for soobin, “so at the end of the day, you always have a mug to share,” he had smiled, dimples and teeth, nose scrunching when he pulled a hat onto your head with the same saying. Singing softly, “With youuu.” as if you had left off the last bit of your sentence and he needed to fill it in, just clarifying that he only wanted to share coffee with you, and only you.
Time still stood, like an oncoming car had flashed its brights in your eyes as you crossed a road you shouldn't have been traveling down. You read the line over and over again, at the end, as if someone had carved it into the bathroom tile upstairs the second the first drops of blood had appeared.
You didn't move to clean it, but instead reached out for the drying rack, picking up the next souvenir from a past too muddy for you to dig through. The logo of the bookstore you had worked at in the city was tattooed on the base, a chip already at the foot of the mug. You had picked it up the first time his mom had come to visit, the first time she had held your hand and told you how happy she could see he was.
And this time, you let it fall to the floor deliberately, relishing in the shattering, the sound like an exhale. Because as you picked up the next one, throwing it down, hard enough for the ceramic shards to spray along the tile like spilling beads from a bracelet ripped from a wrist, you could finally breathe, force out all the air in your lungs until you picked up the next mug.
The creamy white porcelain, one half to a whole set, a gift from Taehyun, silly his & hers mugs he had found soon after your engagement announcement. They had been sweet, painted with hearts, and the final ones to be thrown, cracking and splitting like bone, brittle and built on a promise you felt had been for a girl you didn't know anymore.
Left in the rack, a navy blue mug, bare of any inscription at all, the same mug that had been in the cabinet of Soobin’s apartment when you first met. The lone survivor of the massacre you had never seen coming until it was too late. And there, scattered on the floor, a mosaic of memories lost too soon, swept off the counter in a fit that tried to mask itself as rage but wasn’t close to it at all.
This had been a lapse, not in judgment but in your play at healing. And you had never been a good actor, because as much as you tried to hold it back, suck down gulps of air to avoid the shake in your resolve, you couldn't hide from the tears. “No, no, no,” the single syllable repeated like a prayer, a plea, a spell, as you fell to knees far too weak to rest on an altar made of fragmented dreams and vows.
You swept the mess with the side of your hand, trying to collect the fragments, not feeling them cut along your palm, into your pinky finger. But the burn traveled up to your elbow, your whine mixing in with the whistle of the tea kettle, screaming and screaming, continuously ringing in ears that had blocked out anything but the echo of their own sorrow.
Soobin rushed down the stairs, disheveled, hair an inky mess, as he slid to a stop at the sight of you, bent, bloody fingers curled around a fractured half of your Montauk mug, pulled to your stomach, as if it would pull you back together while you swept the shards of glass up with your free bare hand.
For a second, he froze, stuck, still half asleep as he had been that night, the whistling kettle mimicking the ring in his ears before he hurried to push at the pot from the burner, his hiss at the heat from the metal quick before he kneeled down with you. “Stop-”
He swept up your hand, thin shards of the ceramic digging into his skin as he cupped yours, your head shaking, as he moved to catch the large piece you had been reaching for. “Soobin-” but it was too late, his hand brushed at just the right angle, the burn of it as instant as the kettles had been. And there along his lifeline, blood bloomed.
“Fuck-” he sucked in the word, his fist closing instinctively over the wound.
“I-” but you didn't know what to say, how to apologize for so much destruction. There was no word for how sorry you were, not just over the mugs, or spilled blood that now dotted the floor like a cruel retelling of your mutual ruination, but for everything.
He didn't let you continue; he pulled you away from the kitchen and the shattered relationship you both had bled on the tile. Standing behind you, he cupped your hands over the running sink in the downstairs restroom. Peeled your fingers back away from the single piece you clung to like he would an orange, letting the shard of your past clink to the base of the blood-spotted bowl like a lost baby tooth that you would never get back.
With care, he held your hands under the warm stream, brushed his thumbs over the length of your fingers, letting the pink water wash over the saying you had never associated with pain until now, at the end. Montauk, NY.
There he waited until the water had gone cold, gone clear, and pulled away.
You could hear him sweeping up the mess, the glass clinking against the dustpan loud like the grinding of cars sliding against the on-ramp rail. And in the mirror, your reflection only showed you in grey, speckles of blood over your sweater. It's how you found yourself in the closet. The door pushed open just enough so that you could step into the mess of the laundry.
Your foot sank into it, and the light flicked on as you looked at the half-empty hangers. The mess of the drawers was half pulled open, as if you and soobin had been in a rush to collect the necessities and leave as fast as possible. It didn't matter what sweater you pulled out to replace the one you wore so long as it did its job. You added to the pile on the floor, kicking at it as if that would help.
Half hidden, a pale white box was tucked into Soobin’s dresser, the emptying of his shirts from his collection revealing it just enough to catch your eye. Nearly the size of a shoe box, only flatter, was the hidden archive of that very day.
It was almost as if it had been calling you, laid out just right in your line of sight when you were thinking about it the most. Because when you push back the lid, the ripped pamphlet is waiting at the top of your discharge papers. The Memory Erasure Procedure, as done by Dr. Howard M.
The tear had almost underlined the name, all while cutting the grassy background of a sunny field in two. A picture of how your days could be if you just went and cleared away all the bad memories, or so they wanted it to appear.
You picked up the second half of it, the slogan making your jaw ache, restoring peace & renewing clarity. It had hurt you, hand still trembling in the back of the cab, but steady enough to know you hadn't wanted it. It had been your instinct to deny it, to go against the way your body, your mind, wanted to grieve, felt too unnatural to dig around in someone's head for memories that didn’t hurt.
But they did hurt; they broke something inside you to look back on, if you lay in bed and thought too long about the sand, Soobin’s ear pressed to your belly, your laugh, his. It was all enough to have you crushed far longer than you had intended the memory to leave you.
You had been holding onto them still, waiting for the moment when they would clear up, when the haze around them was not poisonous to breathe in, waiting for the part in the play when you knew it would end happily. Only it was months later, nearly a year later, and you weren't better, no incline on your health but a downward spiral that was never ending, as if you had been sucked down the drain and hadn't yet fallen into the lake just yet.
And that's the bit you were holding on to, the just yet, you were waiting for the moment of clarity to come on its own, the internal peace that would work its way into the spaces that had collected dust and echoed your silence back at you. But whatever hill you had been climbing was steep, steep enough to burn your calves and lock them in place, freezing you in time so that when the landslide came, it swept you back to the bottom and buried you under the rubble, and now you were too tired to dig yourself out from the mess.
There had been hope that someone would come and help, but it was given up when they had attempted, and you found that there was a certain comfort in the darkness, one that was familiar because it was coming from deep within your bones, as if somewhere inside you, that instinct of an animal knowing its time was near had taken over. You had circled your spot like a vulture did its prey, and laid down and sank deeper into the reprieve.
You could see the end, felt it with every absence of a kiss on your cheek when soobin left for work, where he had called for extra hours outside of the house he had built on the very dreams and memories they had offered to erase.
Your thumb ran over the list of benefits they provided: Reduced symptoms of grief, trauma, or anxiety, Improved mood and emotional stability, Enhanced ability to form new, healthy attachments.
It shouldn't have felt so gutting. The list was like a sharp knife that completed the evisceration. And you knew it was everything you should have wanted, for yourself, for him. How easy they made it seem, painless, no scars, just spots in your mind that you couldn't fill in. days and moments that would be replaced like most insignificant moments in life were, you would know you had lived that day but it would be written off as having done what you always did, not anything life altering enough to be forgotten.
At the first mention, it had made you angry, your snap as loud as a whip, as fractured as the mugs you had just thrown down, and yet now even that memory had been eaten by the emptiness. And now all you sat with was guilt.
If there had been time to think, talk it through, maybe the two of you could have been saved. Mourned and let it shred you to ribbons, and then find yourself awake in bed braided anew. But you had let yourself, your relationship, your dreams, rot at the bottom of a sea that never stopped churning. And soobin had fought the waves, carried you as best as he could, but you could see how tired it was making him to love you.
And how could he not be tried? As much as Kai and Yeonjun could tell you otherwise, they did not live in your skin, did not sleep in the same bed as him and wonder how life for him would be so much easier without you in it. It kept you up, not just the lost dreams but the torment of knowing you were the problem. He could get up, brush his teeth, comb his hair, get dressed, work, and what could you do? What had you done?
The seedlings of the separation had been set early, maybe even before the loss, maybe in the thin stretch of the years between the engagement and the wedding that never came. Maybe your rose colored glasses had been too thick, too pink, too red, for you to see the signs. You had picked over that scab so often that the wound would never heal, and this, who you had become, had only stitched the skin in the opposite direction, flayed instead of healed.
He waits, patient, and as hopeful as the boy who had waited until Monday rolled around so he could see you again at your job. And as of right now, it feels like he will be waiting a lifetime because you don't have a breadcrumb trail leading back to the girl you used to be.
If time could heal all wounds, how could it not also create them? He would wait, he would stay, he would watch you, love you until it was only because he remembered that he once had, not because he did. You would suck the life out of him, you already had, even if you were the only person who could see it, admit it. And you couldn't let him do that.
Couldn't let him sit and love you, couldn’t let him sit and wait for someone who knew they were too far gone, who had stitched their shared loss into their skin and wore it like a tattoo, and let it scream out into the silence. Couldn't let him pour himself empty into your glass that was riddled with fractures.
If you love him, really, truly, deeply loved him, you would give him the only thing you had left inside you, worth anything at all; your ability to let go. The opportunity to move on without having you there to hold him back.
There was no fight left in you when you made the decision; your mind was set, and even that didn't evoke anything else besides sadness.
You dropped the pamphlet, placing the lid back onto the box, and neatly closed the drawer. Soobin was still in the kitchen when you made it down the stairs. He didn't question when you pulled on your coat, your shoes forgotten as you walked out in nothing but socks onto the deck.
The tide was pulled back, showing the rippled, dark, wet sand. The line was distinct and cut across the expanse of your eyeline like someone had taken scissors to the sea and the shore. The air was just cold enough so that every exhale was like a puff of smoke, fanning out in front of you like a lost soul, curling around the edges of your lips like a goodbye kiss.
“It's going to snow.” You didn't move at the sound of his voice, low and falling down your back like rain. Gingerly, he wrapped your dropped scarf around your shoulders, the brightest thing against the cloudy backdrop and your dark coats.
You tilt your chin towards the sky, frosted pale blue, just bright enough to let you know somewhere the sun is hidden under all the layers of white sheet clouds. Icy and bitter, the wind burns your cheeks until soobin blocks the gust, stepping next to you.
It's enough to bring the tears forward, the building of them catching on the edges of your lashes, not quite falling as he hums,” I don't even remember the last time I came out here to see the beach.”
Neither of you had to say why, not with the rise and fall of the waves, the cawing of the seagulls gone for the season, the boats pulled in with the water this choppy. It was just the sound of the sea, even the lighthouse stood abandoned, the row of houses a graveyard of wood and glass. For all you knew, it could have been just the two of you out this far off the end of the Long Island peninsula.
“Soobin, I’m-” he can hear the weaver in your voice, in the way it gets caught in the cold and freezes in the wind.
“Don't,” no matter what it was that you were going to say, he knew he didn't want to hear it, couldn't swallow it down when being out on the beach felt as close as he had been to you in months. Your hands, pushed into your pockets, left just enough room for soobin to link his arm with yours. “Walk with me?”
Neither of you had your shoes on, and neither of you cared. The walk down was slow, and you leaned into him, his warmth. And this time, you didn't stop right where the wood dipped into the sand, but stepped out, let the grains slip around your feet, and watched how soobin wiggled his socked toes.
You wanted to tell him, explain how you couldn't do this anymore, but when you opened your mouth, all that came out was a short, breathy laugh. Because he was here, still, pulling your scarf around you, blocking the cold, striking memories like you would a match, and despite the wind, you were willing to cup your hand around the flame so it wouldn't go out, not just yet.
Dropping your head to his arm, you let yourself go and whispered, “I love you,” because it was true; despite all else, you knew that.
“I love you more,” said like it was the start of a song you hadn't heard in forever but knew all the words, felt it in your fingertips, and sang along to every bittersweet nostalgic note. It hurt that you had almost forgotten it, almost as badly as you knew it would be to forget the color of his eyes. “So, so, much more,”
You turned your nose into his coat sleeve, breathed in the scent of him deep enough to let it catch in your lungs, and held the air until you were sure you wouldn't burst into tears. “No, I love you more,” and even with your voice weak, it was a declaration, a vow, an oath. A vocal snapshot collected from all the flickering facets of your past together, where you had said the words between kisses, moans, and casual goodbyes.
The two of you let the silence settle, the sea pushing back at it with its rise and fall, the waves sounding like the turning page of a book caught at its edge, the kind you had to check to make sure it wasn't ripped by the end. And you wondered if he, too, was thinking of your shared heartbeat, if it was at the shell of his ear like a whisper of a past you only thought of when the ghosts hummed late at night.
“I lost my job.” You didn't need to say anything else, not when you both knew it was coming eventually. But you had needed to fill the space with something other than the creeping memory of the silent ultrasound.
He lifted his free hand, letting it cup your cheek, not turning your head away from his arm but resting. “There are hundreds of jobs out there for when you're ready.”
Your lashes were soft against your cheeks, forehead heavy against his arm, before you reached up to take his hand, as you pulled away just enough to look up at his already expectant face.
He was so pretty, even in sadness, the cupid's bow of his lip, still slightly parted, ready to tell you no, because he knew what was coming, it was written all over you. You were looking up at him like you were tracing over every last feature of him, trailing the pen across his eyebrows, following his lash line, painting the exact shade of brown his eyes were. “Stop,” he shook his head, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, holding himself back from saying it any louder.
“I think it would be better if I went back to the city,” his fingers curled around yours as he twisted his lips into a pout carved out of denial.
“No-,” because he knew you meant alone, without him.
“Just for-,” he didn't let you lie, he pressed his lips to yours, drinking down your words, pulling them away from you as if it would make it any better.
The kiss was soft, testing as the first one had been, and when he pulled away, his nose bumped yours, and he was flushed. Cheeks a shade of pink you had imagined was lost with the version of yourself that had been pulled from under your ribs. He looked as if he were worried he had startled you, as if he had accidentally caught an animal in hands that had only meant to feed it. As if you had just told him they sold shoes right at the end of the street.
The wind rustled his hair, brushed it along his temples, and pushed the strands back to expose his forehead. And for a small moment, you mourned that you would never be back here with your fingers in his hair, your jealousy of the wind making your hand twitch. If it was going to be the last time, one last memory, you might as well just sink into it until you drowned.
You lifted just enough to crash your lips against his, unlinking your arms with his so that you could thread your fingers into his hair, leaning into the familiar give of his mouth and the curve of his body. He wrapped you up in him, tugging you closer as your scarf brushed your cheeks as it fluttered from the breeze you couldn't feel when he was so warm.
He kisses you like there was no time lost, as if you never stopped pulling that soft shyness from deep within him, as if you were cracking him open, splitting him right down the middle so that he could make room for you to share his space. He wanted all of you, in any way you gave it to him, in this love disguised as lust, and even in sadness.
Neither of you knew how you had found yourselves in the sand, your cold fingers at the base of his neck, his lips on the edge of your mouth, sliding down your jaw, his nose cold as he dragged it down your throat. He whimpered into your skin when you dragged a hand down the front of his chest, gasping when you slipped your hand into the hem of his shirt.
You felt each breath under your fingertips, his stomach flexing as he rolled you onto your back. You matched him with every kiss, every push, as you widened your legs, memorizing him with every sense you could. Because he smelled like the day you had shared a bed for the first time, where he laid next to you as stiff as a board, blinking up at the ceiling as you linked your hand in his. And his breath caught just as it had the first time the two of you had made out on his couch. His body shuddered above you when you kissed under his ear.
Neither of you had to speak, not when you could read every I love you, between touches and heartbeats, like a eulogy, so focused on holding onto the moment, tattooing it along your skin as he dragged his hand down your side and pushed up your sweater just enough to feel your skin against his. Your breaths mingling in the cold air, puffing out like mist, like lost promises, lost time.
He didn't let the chill reach out for you, letting his open coat block most of the wind, his body doing the rest as he rolled his hips against yours. And he didn't stop you when you reached down to the button on his jeans, unzipping them just enough for you to slip into the waistband of his underwear. He moaned into your mouth when you wrapped your hand around him softly. You swallowed the sound down, held it in your lungs.
It had been so long since either of you had been so close in this way, past the shower and the attempt in the bed that felt empty even with you in it. He hummed against your pulse, his open-mouthed kiss caught against your skin when you let yourself get lost in the familiar motion of drawing out his desire. You had been here before, just like this, with his hand sliding down your side until his fingers pushed past your panties and could circle sweetly over your clit.
He’d kissed salt and sun from your skin, blushed just the same as he did now, not from the cold but from your touch, greedy to feel more as he rolled his hips into your hand. Mimicking your slow movements, he soaked in every soft sound you made, pushing his fingers into you, pressing the heel of his palm in place for you to grind.
It didn't matter how long it had been, not when you had spent years learning every little thing about each other, enough so that you knew that this last attempt at memorization was futile. Still, it wasn't because you wanted a last goodbye but because you needed it, and he deserved it. So you whispered the word into his mouth, “please,” as if begging him to ask you to stay instead of begging for more.
It didn't matter that you were on the beach, the very one you had met, or that it was winter, just as you dreamt of spending with him. You let him push your pants down, let him melt into you, keep you pressed against your coat, the sand. You gasped at the heat of him, the stretch, the familiarity.
Your hands, still sore from your cuts, made from memories too sharp, burned as you tangled your fingers into his hair, his face pressed firmly to your neck as he let himself be surrounded by you. The two of you in a world alone, wrapped up in your affection, your lust, the nostalgia.
There was no rush; every movement, careful and deep, threaded with memory, so close as if neither of you could stand to be apart. He held you, kissed the salt on your skin from his tears away, as he had the salt from the sea. Not caring about crying when you were so close to slipping away from him. He knew it, felt it between every breathy whimper the two of you shared. This was different than the last time you two had tried; he had felt you grasping at him desperately, trying to hold on, find purchase on him as if it would have been able to pull you from the water.
This time, here now, he knew you were letting yourself go, breathing him in as if he was the last bit of air you would ever swallow down before your lungs stopped trying behind ribs too bruised from chest-wracking sobs. And he was greedy, he wanted you, even like this, in any way he could, because he loved you, loves you, had never stopped, and he never thought he would, and he was just as willing to give everything up for one more moment.
His tears caught on the hollow of your throat, sliding down your skin like an undone necklace, his lips finding your jaw, catching your moans when he finally pulled his mouth back to yours. He held you as you trembled, coming undone for him one last time, his weight keeping you in place as he reached a high too bittersweet and yet blisteringly vehement.
And he didn't ask you to stay, not when he clung to you as if he was moments away from waving you off to a plane he was too late to grab a ticket on. You were as close as you could get, legs wrapped around him, arms locked around his neck, his nose pressed to your cheek, his browbone slotted into the hollow of your eye as he whispered against your skin like a ghost would into an unsuspecting ear, “Do you remember when I called out for you in the street?”
His hands slid under you, between the sand and your coat, fingers tucked against the warm spots where the two of you met chest to chest. And you can see him back at the beginning, shoeless, one hand shoved deep into his pocket, the free one cupped around his mouth as he yelled into the night, the streetlights shining down like golden sunrays, his hair a mess, his expectant smile, his dimples.
And just as the snow began to fall, in small, fragile puffs that melted on your cheeks and clung to his hair, you whispered, “I remember everything.”
“That was the day I knew you were the love of my life,” and he held you as he had on the couch, as he had the moment he could finally wrap his arms around you for the first time. kissed you just as he dreamed he would while taking sips of coffee from paper cups he picked up from your job, just to get a taste of your lips. And the two of you lay in the sand like a swaying boat on a sea gone dry.
His letting go and your running was a mutual mercy.
This is what you repeated when you stood at the train station, your ticket the only one printed for the empty ride. The scarf tied around your neck felt heavy on your shoulders, your nose tucked into the fabric as if that would convince you in some way he would still be with you. Because his hands had been so soft as they wrapped you up as if you were a gift he had been all too excited for, peeling back the paper the day before he was supposed to open it, careful to make sure no one would know he had sneaked a peek. As if he were hopeful you would still be there in the morning, still his, even if you were in the city, even if you weren’t in your shared bed.
The scarf felt like a name tag, one you wouldn't throw away, but tuck into the back of the closet like you would a receipt between pages of a book for safekeeping. The color is like a burning reminder of him, and as you try to keep the wind from your cheeks, you're flooded with memories of how he smells, what it was like to press your face into the fabric of his sweater, his pillow.
The heel of your palms are numb, nails pinched against your skin, jaw aching as your teeth rattle, grind, the pressure holding in each trembling breath that wants to turn into a weak whine. You focused on the feeling of your closed eyes, how your lashes felt heavy with unshed tears you refused to let go of, not willing to look up at the way the snow fell on the beach with increasing speed since leaving the sand.
It fell like rain, sheets and sheets of the flanks swirling in the air under the streetlamps lined up on the edge of the platform you stood on alone. Your world felt like a salt shaker, taken in a careless fist over a boiling pot, too casual with the flicking of a wrist that never intended the harm it was causing with one simple movement. Every inhale with closed eyes and aching hands made you sway, like you were the tide and he was your moon, beckoning you with slowness and promises you had to push against like waves at the edge of the rocky cliffs the lighthouses sat on.
There was no Shakespearean end, no half-written tragedy uncovered with your closing of the door behind you, only silence. And when the train pulled in, tugging on the red end of your scarf with its arrival, you couldn't help but follow the line of its direction. He would be sitting on the back porch watching the snow exactly where you left him, the sea loud enough to cover the sound of your leaving, because to him it swallowed even the silence.
You looked back because somewhere deep down you wanted him to be running back up the side of the hill, flushed red, socks slipping in the sand and snow, begging you to come home even if it was a house that hadn't been a home for far too long. There was no reason to be disappointed not to see him there; you had done nothing but ruin, nothing but lie stagnant like water at the bottom of a covered well, no stone he could throw at windows or like pennies mimicking wishes could change that.
He did not come, he did not beg, and you did not stay, no matter how much either of you wanted to do the opposite. You climbed the short steps into the belly of the empty rain, let the seat right by the door swallow you down, and waited for the memories to chew you, to spit you out on the streets of New York. because behind you, the ghosts of the past sat giggling, sharing book recommendations to blushing boys who lost their shoes, who whispered funny baby names just to see you smile, who kissed you under every bridge you passed.
You let the ghosts leech off your sadness, a final gift as if that would make them stay longer than you would ever know. Feeding their memory so that even when you forgot, they would sit here, haunting the very train you took to fall in love.
There was no reason to push any of the thoughts away, not when you had so little time to dwell on them. You had only one thing in your pocket besides your phone and key ring, the half-ripped pamphlet with the number to Dr. Howard's office.
As much as it said it would not hurt, you wondered if you would know, somewhere deep down, that something was missing in you. You had not known exactly how vast and empty you could feel, not until this wave of depression, and if that could be hidden, would the memory of him be tucked away somewhere? Folded down over and over like a piece of paper or burned to ashes?
Loving soobin would leave a scar, even if they said it would be unnoticeable. There was no amount of perfected surgery or magic that could pull him away from your being unmarked. In the fine wedding of your heartstrings, his fingerprint was etched; you had not known it, not until he looked up at you with his boyish smile and eyes warm enough to feel like nostalgia. It was not something they could erase, not entirely, because it was a part of you far longer than you had known him.
It would not be easy to erase him when he was woven too deeply into the threads of your tapestry. You knew it as soon as you stepped off the train and looked out at the road, packed with cars leading to places you never envisioned going, with people you never cared to meet. His question hangs in the air like a knife on a string. Do you remember when I called out for you in the street? Here you had been just a girl, and you learned that heartbeats had wings, ones that were made of wax and beat for boys who felt like the summer sun on bare shoulders.
You ran, not caring about the stares, face scrunched to keep back the tears because it felt all too real now, three hours away from him. Your coat was too heavy, too warm, suffocating when it wasn't snowing in the city just yet. Every step down your old street, up the stairs to your apartment shared with a life before him felt heavy, weighted with iron tied around your ankles.
You had not called Kai, not when you had only thought about soobin and his hands, his last breaths puffed into your lungs as if it would reanimate you. It had slipped your mind to ask if it was okay to run to him when you were looking for someone to tell you it was okay, that it would all work out no matter what you chose to do.
Instead, you had picked up the key that Kai had turned into your palm, and fell into the familiarity of coming back to your shared apartment as if it was another day after class, or work, only now your hands were shaking, trembling enough to miss each attempt to fit the key into the lock.
Everything was overstimulating: the flickering overhead light down the hall, the sweat now making its way down the back of your neck from so many layers of clothes, the tears that blurred everything around you and made your throat tighten enough to feel like a hand had replaced your scarf. “Fuck,” you blurted the word, moments before the door pulled open.
Kai stood bathed in the golden light from the lamp in the far corner, still dressed down in his pajamas, hair a frizzy mess, eyebrows pulled in concern at the very sight of you being at his doorstep. “Kai,” his name was a sob, like the bubbling sound from a stopper being pulled from a tub's drain.
He pulled you into him, tucked your face into his chest, and held you while you fell apart, the gentle swaying of his body allowing you to spill out. It didn't matter how or why you showed up, he would take you in just as he said he would. You let him pull you in past the door, and as soon as he let you go to shut it, you ripped off your scarf, shedding your coat, your shoes. Your hands wiped at your cheeks, knuckles digging into your eye sockets to force yourself to stop the incessant tears.
You wanted to sound clear, to make it known that this was a decision made from reason and not one made from wallowing, even if it was all that was written over you.
Holding your breath, you looked around at the space you once shared, now tinted with the years of Kai having been alone. The small touches you had placed over it were still there, only added to. He kept the hooks by the front door, still half filled haphazardly with his winter coats, your jacket placed right where he always kept the spot open for guests. Your scarf slipped to the floor, even after he had taken the time to make sure it would stay in place, the red fabric like a pool of blood at the entryway.
He still used the blanket you kept on the back of the sofa; the pillows never switched out, even as they started to flatten over the years. The coffee table was picked out for its color and price when the two of you had scraped by for cash to spend on to have somewhere to eat besides standing in the kitchen. He had added to the collection of photos on the fridge, replacing the magnets you had taken with you to the house in Montauk with his own memories.
Your old bedroom door was closed, right across the living room from Kais, the door half open to show where he must have climbed out of bed on his off day to let you in.
Life had gone on, yours, his, even if it felt familiar, it felt distant. As if you were stepping back into your childhood bedroom after the first year of college, no ghosts but dusty reminders of what you had grown into. The bittersweet nostalgia felt cold around its middle like a reheated meal you hadn't let do a full turn in the microwave. And there on the side table, a picture frame of your friend group, Kai’s sisters, all sitting around the living room on his birthday, crammed onto the small two-seater couch, smiling for the camera. Soobin's face was pressed into your cheek, his eyes scrunched in a laugh because you were fighting hard to get away from the way his lashes had been tickling you.
You had only been able to call Kai for his birthday this year, promising him that in a week you would make it up to him when you felt less under the weather, even when both of you knew you weren't fighting a cold.
It was the picture that pushed you to say why you had come to, “I can't do it anymore,” and even if all you felt was shame to come out with the confession, you were shocked to find relief in between every syllable. “I thought when I saw you in the city that I would be okay, that eventually I would get better, that somewhere there would be a light at the end of the tunnel, and I just hadn't found it yet, but it’s taking so fucking long,”
And he knows what you mean, the realization not something that he thought was shocking when he could hear it in your voice after every call, knew it when yeonjun had gone and came back with red-rimmed eyes after the train ride home. “It's so much, and I lost my job, and I don't even really care about it, and I think that's the thing. I know how I would have reacted before, and now not even feeling a hint of that? Every emotion is so far away, and I can't do it anymore. I can't sit there and make him suffer through it with me when I don't think there will be any end to it, not unless I forget what happened.”
“Did you talk to him about it? Have you told him-”
“What is there to tell? I know exactly how he will react. I love him so so much, I can't hide that, because that's all there is, that's what's left, but it's so hard to act on, to be who I was for him before when I first started to love him, who i was when we first moved into the house because now im just empty, and he still would love me and when he couldn't anymore, because one day he will see what I've done to us, he will still stay and let himself be brought down by me because that's who he is thats that he does,” you fall to the couch, elbows heavy on your knees as you lean your face into your hands.
“You didn't do anything wrong, none of this is your fault-”
“I know that, somewhere deep down, I'm sure I know it, but we are losing everything. I lost my job, I lost my feelings, we lost…we lost our baby,” you whisper the end of the sentence, and you're sure it's the first time you've said it allowed. Soobin had been the one to make the calls to your family, to your friends, you had replayed the sound of his voice, growing cold with each pass of condolences and weak thank yous, over and over again in your head until it was all you could hear.
You should have been there with him, at his side, leaning on him as he leaned on you, carrying the weight of the truth so that it was spread between you two instead of sinking you both. But you had been just as silent as he had grown. Let him sit with the heavy words from people who didn't really know you two, their comfort like bullets to glass, far too cracked to do anything but shatter. Everything happens for a reason. You can have another one, move on by bringing in happiness, showing that the spark is still there, and you can still be happy…
It was all bullshit. You had heard it in the distance, and you hadn't given him any outlet to talk it through, both of you shell-shocked, knowing it was meant well, and yet it did anything but soothe your hearts. And maybe that's also why you were running, some selfish part of you was embarrassed about who you had become for him, a partner who did not know how to help with his grief, had not tried. Your mother had told you that it was natural and not something you should beat yourself up about. But it was so hard not to throw fists at a mirror that now only showed the parts of yourself that you hated.
You had tried, but it felt so lackluster in comparison to what he had done for you, how he had made attempts and had been met with a brick wall, and still did not give up, even if it was silent. He was waiting for you so that you could build new dreams together, build yourselves back up, and work through your feelings in healthy ways that would help process your grief.
But it was so easy to get stuck, so easy to think about what was gone, what had gone wrong, and still he waited loving you even when you didn't anymore.
“I'm drowning, fully, and I don't know how to help it, but I know this,” you pull out the pamphlet, place it down on the table before you, letting kai take the half ripped sheet, “every time I think about picking myself back up to live out the dreams we had set out for us im right back down in my bed. Because once I think about it, all I can see is how easy it was for it to be taken away from us, how easy it was for the wave to come and knock me on my ass. There was no fighting it. I'm trying, but I can't do it anymore, not when I see him and what I did to him. I'm not the girl he proposed to, not the one he fell in love with anymore. We hadn't gotten married in all the time it took before I got pregnant, years, it took the thought of having a baby for him to talk about it again, for us to move out of the city, and now that's all gone.”
“And I don't know why I'm so caught up in that dream being lost, why I can't get out of bed, why I can't let him love me. That's why I can't let him suffer anymore, because at the end of the day, I wouldn't want to marry me either, I wouldn't want to be saddled with someone who crumbles instead of snaps, he deserves so much better than whatever I have to offer, and I can't do this anymore. I try, Kai, that's that part, this is me giving it 100% and I want to give so much less, I feel it, weighing me down, it keeps me in bed, it keeps me from forgiving myself for what I did-” you’re bleeding tears, they coat every words and shaking breath as you lay out every thing that had been plaguing you.
Your last moment on the beach had pulled a thread from you, anchored it to the sand and sea, and as you ran, you unraveled. That fine red sting pulling taut as you spoke without fear because you needed Kai to know why you were doing this, you needed someone to know it was out of love, just as well as it was selfishness.
The couch dipped next to you, his weight drawing you closer to him before he wrapped you in his arms. And without knowing it, your shoulders sank involuntarily at the realization that it was not soobin pulling you into his sweater, but Kai. “You didn't do anything wrong,”
“But I did! It was me, it was my body, it was my baby, it was my life, and I ruined it. I can't do this anymore, I can’t sit here and feel this anymore, and I love him so much, so much it hurts, it rips at me, it kills me and I cant lose him not like I lost our baby, and I’d rather forget it all then wait for him to realize im the cause, that im everything I know I am, I can't do that to him, I can't hurt him anymore than I already have and I don't want to forget him but I have to, I need to, for him,”
“You don't have to, you could go to therapy, stay here for a bit, give it a week, a month, time.” His hand, warm and heavy, soothes circles over your back, grasps at ways to calm you. But your mind is made up.
You were always back in that hospital bed, screaming to be left alone, avoiding the one thing that maybe could have kept all this pain away in the first place. So quick, so simple, like knocking off all the dinnerware from a table, but you had been worried about the mess, concerned about collecting the pieces of broken glass like scattered bones grown from wombs of memories, that you had rejected everything besides grief. And now everything was laced with regret, and all you wanted was the first option.
All you wanted was painlessness. It was the only dream rattling around in a heart made up and dressed like a tomb.
Kai knew it, you both did. His attempts at convincing you otherwise were lost, and when he called yeonjun and left the two of you alone in the apartment, he knew it too. Saw it in the way you had begged to sleep on the couch, scared to find yourself in a bed that you had shared with soobin only a few times, the mattress far too short and his legs too long, having to curl up into you like the perfect excuse to hold you tighter.
Instead, you lie on the couch as you would in your own home. Yeonjun didn't even speak up. He sat with you, your feet resting on his lap, his coffee cup, too cold for winter, dripped onto his numbing hand as the ice slowly melted enough for him to ask, “Are you sure?”
You had already made the appointment for that day, making Kai promise that he wouldn't tell Soobin, that he wouldn't tell anyone besides Yeonjun.
The office had asked for memorabilia from your relationship, one item that had significant enough meaning to keep soobin right at the forefront of your mind. You had nothing more than the clothes you had come with and your engagement ring. Your fingers curled, but you did not take it off, not yet, not until they asked you for it, not until the last moment.
Yeonjun had promised to pick up the rest of your things in time from soobin, swearing to keep the secret even when you could see it on him that he didn't want to. You could only tack it to the list of reasons why you felt so guilty, your one choice of not erasing your memory sooner rippled the waters enough to affect everyone around you. If you could go back, you would. You had been closest to the shore then, closest to soobin, to your baby, to the life you had dreamed of.
“I'm sure.” Even if it was heavy like a lie on your tongue, weighing the statement down with some resonance of truth, you carried it all the way to your appointment.
Yeonjun held the door open to the sterile office space, the walls grey and peeling, tacked up with inspirational posters every few feet like a color bandaid on a scraped knee, too small to cover all the damage, but pretty enough for its job.
It was nothing like the hospitals you had been to before, more like a dentist's office, the few seats already filled with people holding boxes and photo albums like driftwood on a thrashing sea, they prayed would calm soon. It was a small building with no more than three rooms in the back, faint elevator music covering the soft, muffled voices behind the thin walls.
“Good morning,” the receptionist smiled, the brightest person in the room, the sunny disposition shining down on the wilted flowers we all found ourselves being once we had decided this was the only option. “Appointment?”
For a second, your throat had tightened up, as if tears would come instead of words; spill with a desperation that read more like a plea than a declaration. You swallowed, hands tightening on the hold you had on your coat, tugged off from your shoulders to use as a blanket between you and the realization of what this all meant.
It was Yeonjun who spoke up for you, nodding and taking the clipboard, papers, and pen with his pursed smile, the one he used for work and bad days. He led you to the only two free seats together, waiting for you to sit so that he could make sure you weren't running. He wouldn't stop you if you did. You're sure it would make him happy to leave here with you, intact but not whole, but the rawest form of you that there would be before bits of you were picked out like fruit from a cake.
He passed the clipboard over, set the pen in your hand, and watched as you filled out your name. It was the only thing you could do to distract yourself, list out the basic information about you that had nothing to do with soobin, no, that wouldn't happen until later, until at least the second page of forms, where you would have to list out your explanation of why you were here in the first place.
The stinging in your eyes was like someone was blowing air right along your lash line, your blinking only working for so long before you were finding it hard to read the checkmark boxes asking who you had brought along with you to take you home. It was only a little reminder of Soobin, of a time when you had been happy enough that the anxiety was eaten away at the edges like ends of books you had stacked on your shelf; spouse/partner.
It had been so simple then, when your problems had been nothing more than cold feet worries and not soul-crushing silence, but even now you can't help but want him right here with you, pressing his knee into yours, his legs too long for the chair so he needed to spill closer to yours, when really all he wanted was to be closer to you, touching you. His laugh lit up the silent room, echoing as he joked about the posters, eyes going wide when your name was called, like he had been caught by a teacher for passing notes.
The pen slipped from your fingers, falling before you had even realized you had been crying so openly. Yeonjun bent and picked it back up without much thought, held it out for you on the flat of his palm like an invitation, one to take or one to leave. He'd walk out with you if you asked, you kept reminding yourself over and over about it, and still you couldn't stop now, not here.
But it didn't feel real until they pulled you back without him, your lifeline slipping between your fingers with lightning speed at a rate you couldn't catch, but you could feel the burn of. The chair, much like that of a dentist’s, was cold and squeaky, the pleather not worn down or softened by any number of people who had come and shared this very seat. The lights dimmed like the ultrasound room you had shared with soobin by your side, a screen pulled up right in front of you just the same.
Your knuckles ached, the grip you held on your coat too tight as you bit back the wave of fresh tears threatening, the questions rising from somewhere deep you didn't want to look down into. If you went back, pulled away now, and ran all the way to the waiting bed you made for the two of you, neither of you would survive.
You could go, let him tuck you in close to him, whisper that everything would be alright when you both knew it wouldn't. You could convince yourself that he was telling the truth long enough to make it feel real, even for a night.
But what were you running back to? An empty house, gutted clean with the cracked porcelain made from memories you found so easy now to throw away, or so it seems. The ocean singing its mocking tune that you couldn't quite hear unless you were thrown into the deep end, haunted by the sounds of heartbeats and I love yous.
There he would be sitting, waiting for you to drag him under the tide that had spit you out like weathered driftwood that hadn't touched the sand long enough to remember just what it had been grounded to before it snapped and drifted out into a sea it had never seen coming. He would wake next to you, in the house you had turned into a crypt, and place the last mug of tea down on your nightstand like he would flowers right at the edge of your grave. Whisper so soft like he would blow you out like a candle if he spoke too loud, kiss your temple like the cold headset they now laid against your skin.
The dry acidic tang of the rubbing alcohol they used to clean at the edge of your brows burned your nose. Gentle fingers making sure the headset, icy and awakening, was set right into place, the drone of the doctor's voice coming in waves, painless, simple, all you have to do is remember for one last time.
Your ring, the one he kissed at your knuckles while in bed, in the sand, slipped from your finger, placed, clinking like the tines of a fork on a glass of champagne for a wedding the ring never saw, on a silver tray just a foot away from you to look at and picture him as if he wasn't always on the forefront of your mind. Hands now empty, lay so neatly against your coat in your lap, as if forcing yourself not to curl them into fists would help distract you from what you were doing. And when they told you to close your eyes, you let your lids fall heavy, let yourself get lost in the memories, in poison you had slipped in the well to tell yourself that this was the right way, the only way.
The machine hummed low next to you, the buzz of it like the beating of a moth's wings, like the littered kisses he'd pepper along your hairline.
“Baby?” his nose nuzzled against your ear, so close it almost felt real, his voice a memory of a time you had been just on the verge of waking, tucked under the sheets in his apartment, his hands a heavy weight against skin worn into sleep-ridden bliss. “Stay with me?”
You had lived this moment, heard him whisper over and over again the one thing you had been waiting for him to ask when you were laid out in the sand, when the snow began to fall. You had turned in his arms, legs tangling with his, pressing your face into the warm spot at the base of his neck, nose dipping into the hollow of his throat as you pulled him in closer. “Ask me again,”
“Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me…” the words faded out, slowly until you couldn't even hear what was being said, only the rumbling from your own throat as you rolled out of an empty bed for work. The heater had been turned off late into the night, Kai and his plans to save money on the electricity, leaving both of you to sleep bundled up under layers of blankets, wrapped around you like arms.
You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, cringing at the overhead light from the bulb right over the checkout counter, a stack of books waiting for stickers at your side, as your jaw ached from the stretch of your yawn. He laughed, the kind that you knew his dimples would show through, teeth just caught at the bottom of his lip, “sleeping on the job?”
He placed a mug, steaming with tea, on the smooth wood, as if it were on your kitchen counter, not the register. Distantly, you can remember that you had lost a job, cried over it until you had broken something that had hurt instead of healed. But here right now, soobin was leaning over the checkout, bending to kiss the tip of your nose as you rolled your eyes, “you kept me up all night.” he had been humming in the kitchen, clinking plates, mugs, making something late at night because you had craved it.
“They kept you up all night.” You couldn't help but smile, hand falling to the waistband of your jeans, only fitting snug enough to make it seem like you hadn't changed overnight. “How are my girls doing now besides being tired?”
“Girls? Our baby is the size of a pea, and you're just picking a girl just because?” You tilted your head, looking up at him like some lovesick, love-struck fool, mid shift. But he was blushing, flushed pink, his smile turned downward as if he was trying too hard not to act caught detailing dreams you hadn't yet shared while tucked in bed at night.
“I'm happy with whoever they end up being, so long as they are healthy, but when I think about you holding our baby, I see you and her, and she smiles like you.” he was just pulling in to kiss you, taste the edge of your happiness caught on your lips, when someone cleared their throat.
You were caught frozen, distracted enough to spill the paper cup of tea you had grabbed at the beginning of your shift right over the edge to splash on your shoes. The customer waiting in the spot you had just been looking at, lost in some daydream you can't remember, passing you a book about whales, the familiar lighthouse out in the distance, just at the edge of your periphery as you ground your reality, listening to the echo of the waves on the shore. The water just reached the tips of your shoes, threatening to soak your socks if you didn't take a step back. “Do you remember our first time out here? Together when we walked on the beach?”
“Like the back of my hand,” you had held it out for him, showing him the smooth expanse of skin, fingers spreading before he caught them in his, intertwining them like yarn woven to make a blanket, a sweater, before he pulled your knuckles up to kiss. You had no ring then, not until the next time you went out to Montauk together for his birthday. But for now, it was you and him, caught in the snowglobe left unshaken, just a picture of a memory now being cleaned of dust bunnies dressed in the shape of him.
“Can we stay here?” Your heart was picking up speed, beating to the rhythm of your steps as you ran, feet dragged down from the sand slipping into your boots, clinging to your socks. Laughing as he chased you, bent to pick up your coat, your dropped sweater as you pushed open the door of your home.
Not a house, but your home, with its creaking floorboards and open windows, the fridge covered in magnets, the sonogram picture hung right next to the filmstrips, every mug stacked in the dish rack. And soobin is standing in the kitchen with your baby on his hip.
This was something close to a memory, the dream you had caught in your hands that first night in your bed after taking a million pregnancy tests. sick and yet too happy to care as he kissed your skin, explored your body in ways he never had before, fingers drawing shapes of hearts and whispered names like first laughs made in cribs that birthed fairies like stars blinking alight in the sky.
He called out your name, a question on the edge of his lips as he looked over his shoulder at you, one hand holding a spoon as he stirred the pot he had boiling, bouncing the baby with their dark hair, giggling as the bubbles rose and popped, the floor a sticky mess as you stepped into the kitchen. The sweet powdery smell of baby lotion mixed with the salted air from the sea breeze. “Listen to how happy she is,”
Your breath stilled, frozen in the moment, the weight of your dream so close to the feeling of holding her in your arms, not quite able to see her face but seeing the swell of her dimpled cheek as soobin bent to press his face into her neck, blowing a raspberry just to hear her squeal.
In your dream, you had met them in the middle, brushed your fingers into your daughter's hair, and listened to the happy babbling. But now the image blurred out of focus, as if you had drawn them with ink and not the starlight the dream had been made of. Dipping the parchment into the water now swirling around your feet, the colors running, the ink bleeding, dripping like blood on tile, in the sink, until the water ran clean.
Your throat was tightening, mouth opening, gasping as you watched your empty house fill with the sea, water rising, the hollow halls purged clean of anything but salt, and you. The rush was loud, like a dumping waterfall off a cliff, the hum heard even under the water as the riptide pulled you in. Spit out into reality as you surfaced, the offices dimmed lights a stark reminder of what exactly was happening, what was being lost.
It was only at the dripping of your tears off your chin that you realized why you felt as if you had broken through the surf. “No-no- not that one-” the words sounded so loud, so desperate like closing fists and prayers. The memory of your proposal crashing into you at the sight of your ring sitting on the metal tray.
“I even got you a ring.” his trembling hands cupped the little velvet box, his laugh so shy, the tremor in his voice carrying over your bones, sinking into your joints and building you up at the realization that this was exactly where you had wanted to be. Happy and lovesick, right at the end, on a bed in Montauk. Eyes burning, hazy with tears that welled up just at your lashline like they did now.
His voice was echoing around you, the words left when the sight of him, the feel of him, was slowly slipping away behind your tears. “I was put on this earth to love you, kinda way. Because when I'm with you, when I'm not, I ache. I think about how lucky I am to have you when you're here, and burn when you're not, and it feels bigger than the both of us, and that is scary, but also very comforting because it only tells me that you are the one,” like a church choir sitting in the rafters, he went on, your body remembering the motions, how he pulled you in, how he kissed you.
You reached out fingers digging into your coat, tight enough to bruise knuckles, crack skin, as you cried, because now everything felt wrong, you didn't know how, didn't know why, but it felt so wrong to erase wanting this boy who was blushing before you as you leaned against your apartment door. “And next time, kiss me before you leave,” you were saying it, but somewhere distantly your mouth could only form the words, “no- not this one, let me keep just this one-”
Soobin was looking down at your lips, his throat bobbing with his forced swallow, his mind working so fast he didn't have time to question if it was the wrong thing to do before he was leaning in, reaching for something you couldn't remember if you had ever had before. It was all too short, so shy like sitting under a playground slide, the woodchips digging into your palms the way your nails did as you clawed to hold onto this one thing.
Because your hand was sliding up his sweater, drawing him in closer like you were nothing more than the only person in the world who could bring him to his knees. His lashes fluttered, hazy and drunk off the feeling of you curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you; every small touch, gentle laugh, so you pulled him in for one last kiss.
Your eyes were heavy and raw, blinking open in the golden, dimmed office, lips buzzing as if you had only just been kissed, the salt of your tears bittersweet on your tongue. Your knuckles creaked, stiff and aching like you had them curled around a steering wheel for hours on a road trip. Nothing was pointing out why the crescent-shaped indents from your nails were burned in like a gruesome engraving into your palms.
But somewhere right on the edge of your vision, you could tell something was off. Inside, there was a space so vast and full of seawater that there must have been something lurking underneath. You were a corked ship in a bottle, snuffed, and filled with echoes, but hollow while seemingly being told you were complete.
“All done!” the doctor clapped behind you as the nurse lifted the headpiece from your temples. “Your scans are all clear, and it looks like you are free to go.”
But it must not have been right, there was something you wanted to ask, found it right at the tip of your tongue, and yet you couldn't imagine what it was that you were forgetting. Your thumb swept over the indents your nails had left, counting: one, two, three, four, over and over as the nurse wheeled away an empty metal tray that had been sitting in front of you.
There was nothing you could ask, nothing you knew how to pin down, when all you felt was empty.
ོ ⸝⸝⸝
It was easier to imagine you were still in the house, somewhere in another room, late to bed as if you had a long shift and an early morning. He would sleep because you had sent up to the room to warm the sheets, promised you'd make it up before he closed his eyes, and yet you never did.
He left the bed wrinkled, the covers just pulled back on your side, just as you had left it that morning that he woke to find you a mess on the floor of the kitchen. Your sweater still thrown over the foot, dotted with blood gone dry, left out from his meticulous tasks he had set out to do while you were gone.
The list had been long, and there was dust collecting around every corner of the house. He started with the ceiling fans, pulling a ladder from the garage left by the previous owners, climbing up with no worry of falling off with no one spotting him. You would have laughed at how he climbed far too high, bending back at an awkward angle once he realized he could hardly do anything with his head pressed flush against the rooftop.
But he didn't find it funny, his jaw ticked, tight as he imagined it, angry at the way his reality was working up. The dust falling like the snow had over the sand; like ashes over the grave the couch had become the first time you had come home from the hospital.
He vacuumed, the house silent instead of full of the music you would play loud enough to sing over the violent hum of the hover. The windows were open, the cold puffing in through the curtains pulled back, his coat and sweater on as if this was all he could get, the heater turned off when it was just him, and since he wasn't keeping you warm.
He washed every dish in the sink, the single mug, carried down load after load of laundry, separated them by color, by delicacy, and made the laundry room his oasis. You had always dumped the warm clothes on him while he sat on the couch playing games. The fabric softener's scent flooded his senses before you jumped on him, pulling him as close as you could get him, not caring if he lost his game when he felt so cozy like this.
You would sit watching him play over a voice call with Beomgyu and Kai, folding everything into piles that he would carry with him upstairs to put away after you had fallen asleep, curled up. It was how you had done it at the apartment and the start of your lives right at the edge of the sea.
He didn't want to sit back on the sofa and think about how you had tucked your feet under his thigh on the colder nights, holding up socks to see which pair went together when they were seemingly all the same. So instead, he stood folding clothes straight from the dryer, precise with his technique, taking his time until the light in the dryer went off and all the clothes had grown cold.
He mopped baseboards, fixed squeaky doors, and repainted the porch swing blue. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that it had been two weeks and you had not called him, had not texted him, had not breathed a single thought in his direction.
Maybe it was better. Something that you truly did need, you had spent so many years together, nearly every day and every night had been in the same bed, the same house, with words shared over the phone, or between shared air.
Like a bone snapped in half, his life had fallen into two distinct pieces: you on one end and him on the other. And maybe to you this was a rebreak so that you could heal properly, and it was taking a lot longer than the first time the injury had occurred. Hastily plastered over in hopes that it would all be alright, but the splint had done nothing but make the two of you heal in a shape he had never seen before, close to the real thing but not quite right.
He told himself over and over that you just needed time, more than he could give you when he was right there; he would wait in the same bed, on the same beach, far away, or close by, but he would wait. If it were the last thing he would do, it would be done, and he would clean the house, go over every little thing that had been set askew, and place it right so it made it easy.
But with each thing he cleaned, each thing he fixed, you were still gone, and the house was cold and just as empty as it had been before you left.
It pushed him to the beach, to sit out in the snow, not feeling the wind on his face, but feeling the way it threaded through his hair like your fingers would. The boats would be out, rare now that there was hardly anything to catch, but to watch the whales as they came by chasing warmer waters. The lighthouse would shine its light in its constant circle, going round and round as he told Taehyun not to worry about coming over, that he was busy enough.
“Just for the weekend,” he wasn't trying to push; Taehyun was only giving him the option, showing that he was on his side as if there were sides at all. But it felt wrong to have someone else come into his space when you weren't there.
Any other time, he would have been okay to have him over, but Soobin had left the door open for you and no one else. He was waiting for you to walk in next. Even if he wanted to see his friend, even if he knew it was okay to show you were grieving someone alive or dead, he still wanted to do it alone, and now that the house was clean, he wanted to do it alone on the beach.
It was the closest place he felt to you when you weren't here, the last place he had held you, kissed you, told you he loves you. He could lie in the bed all day, smell you on the sheets he had neglected in his cleaning, see the spots of your blood on the sweater, and still it would not be as close as he felt with you right in the sand.
It was the first place he knew you would go if you came back, right to the edge of the shore, looking out over the water with him, reaching out and sticking your hand in his pocket to grasp his, twisting your cold fingers into his warm ones, leaning your head against his shoulder without saying a word because there was no need to. He wanted that back, needed that back, and this was where he could imagine it best.
Looking up at the house felt like looking at a closed book, as if someone had written the ending as soon as you had left, and now he was here with the only copy. He couldn't stand it.
He wanted to run to the city, scratch at the door of Kai’s apartment, and beg you to let him stay, to make a home right there like you had before, when everything felt easy, when everything was better. He’d sell the house, put all the money back into a studio with windows looking out at the park, or a townhouse, a brownstone, anything you wanted, so long as you let him stay.
Because all he wanted to do was have you back, whole or not, and maybe that was selfish, maybe he was greedy, but it's all he ever felt after one taste of your love. Living three hours away now felt like torture; a few blocks like it had been at the start would be enough for him, enough to relearn each other. Trace fingers over all the new scars and grooves that had been carved into skin far too weak to realize the damage that would come with playing at happiness.
He wanted you back, in any amount he could get, and he'd change just about everything to get it. Because he had never stopped loving you, he had not come to any grand conclusion that he wanted to stay separated once you had pulled away. If anything, it had made it so clear that he could not do it alone, and he could not spend any more time waiting when it was eating him alive.
He was angry, far too angry at himself, at the situation, at the damn house and its mocking bedrooms painted to hold cribs and wedding photos. Now it was a dusty shelf, cleared of dust he supposed, but still a mausoleum of all the dreams that he had let slip right past him.
Letting the sea drown out his thoughts helped, but only so much; he was raging on the inside, thrashing around searching for meaning in the middle of an ocean that had been searched thoroughly enough to have nothing left for him. He let the cold burn, slip past his coat, gnaw on the parts of him that had been left out to dry after the sea had gone stagnant with your leaving.
It was never anger at you, always at himself, for his silence, but every time he had opened his mouth, nothing had come out. The words were stacking up inside him, shifting around with every movement, every dusting, every fake smile he walked in with when going to work. He was not okay, not entirely when you were here, but now it felt so much worse. With you, he could hold onto something that he knew was right, and without you, all he could think was a list of things that needed to be done, what he should have done differently.
It had only been a few days after you had left that he came out to the beach on a grey day like this, his navy blue mug in hand, spilling as he stepped out onto the sand. Standing in the kitchen, smelling chemically cleaned, he had made it out and stood where he does now. Picturing himself in his mind standing behind you as you slept on the couch.
He had wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, if there was a way that he could make it better. But he had stayed silent, shedding his work shirt, and climbing in behind you, holding you because it's all he could think to do. What was there to say to someone you had let down?
Without thinking, he had thrown his mug into the sea, tossed it like he would a stone, and it had flown, heavy and smooth, tea a ripple in the air before hitting the dark water and sinking without a sound. It had only taken him a second before he had rushed in after it.
The water had been cold, soaking into his clothes, his coat suddenly heavy enough to keep him down, his eyes burning from the salt, his mouth flooded as he gasped at the icy shock of the needle pricks digging into his neck and hands. It had not been hard to find the mug, to turn it upside down, feet dragging in the sand as he walked out of the ocean on a day far too cold to be this wet.
Pressing his thumb into the ceramic hard enough to hurt, he sank to the sand, not caring anymore if he was too close to the water's edge. He let the tide come in, watched the way the sand darkened, and poured away from him, sinking him lower and lower.
You would have laughed at him, a blush creeping on his cheeks at the sound, instead of how they only turned red now because of the cold. He pushed his free hand into his eyes until the world went white and then red, into black. He laid back, snow still pushed back on the shore where the tide couldn't melt it. It didn't even affect him when it slipped down the back of his collar. All he did was laugh, sharp and cutting, splitting him in two at how ridiculous he was being.
He had thought of selling the house then; it's the same thought he had now, dry and more of a sound mind than he had been so soon after you had left. Now he just watched the lighthouse, the beam spinning, guiding ghost ships that would never find their way past the rough waves; relentless in their search.
Maybe that's what he had become, someone who sat still and waited, silent, or maybe it hurt him to admit that's all he's ever been. Burning as the lighthouse did, stuck circling for someone that had already seemed to vanish from view without him seeing it. But he had seen it, felt the way you had slipped away from him, and he had been holding onto the remnants, the house, when he should have followed, run after you, and helped patch up the relationship that had been wrecked, and he had been too stunned to help before.
It's why he found himself back in the city. Getting off a train that led to you, standing in front of your old apartment, counting each of his breaths as if it would finally give him the courage to step up and knock on the door he remembered so well.
He had whispered his speech to himself on the train ride, pacing back and forth at the station before it pulled in. A love confession tied up in promises and pleas, apologies and vows. What felt like a lifetime ago, he had spilled out before you, speaking without thinking truths he had not found fully formed until they left his lips.
It had been the most honest telling of his emotions that he had shared, and even when he felt as if he was going to be sick, he had said what he knew to the deepest part of himself. You were made for him, the one person whom he had been put on this earth to love, to ache for. And it ruined him, pulled him apart at the seams to be so far from you, to sit there amongst your things and know you weren't coming back.
He had sensed it when you had kissed him in the sand, one final time before you ran, and he hadn't run after you, even when everything in him was telling him to go after you.
But that would have been selfish, he knew; you needed time and space. He knew it when you came back from visiting Kai and seemed revitalized, or as much as you could be at the time. It had made him jealous, the snake of it twisting around his insides for only as long as it took him to realize how anything to make you better was worth it.
This was like that, this was as if he was standing, watching his friends talk about memories he wasn't privy to, happy they had a good time, and yet trying to find his own space to fit into. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy, to find a routine that helped you get out of bed, even if it looked different without him. But it didn't stop the feeling of guilt, as if he wasn't enough to help, hadn't been the one who could, even after promising everything he was and had to you.
He wanted to see you happy when you opened the door, even if it was a different kind of happiness that he had not been able to provide, but it wouldn't burn any less, and it was something he would never confess to anyone, not even you. It was something he would have to learn to get over, and for now, he avoided that pain with more distractions.
The city was so much louder than he remembered it: the car horns, the lovers yelling in the street, the shuffling of his own feet against the concrete as he walked down the familiar road to your old job. He hated to admit that it made him feel so small, hated the echoing mock of it all, asking him what exactly he thought he was doing here.
But he needed time, something to give him a warm up to seeing you again, in whatever state you would be in when he intruded on your well deserved seclusion. So he picked the one spot he remembered you best, the neutral middle ground outside of your place or his.
The bookstore had not changed much since the last time he had picked you up here. The shelves were stacked high, with books littering the tables and carts yet to be put away, the coffee shop's buttery desserts and bittersweet coffee filling the air with warmth and fresh baked memories. You had talked about wanting to bottle the scent: books, coffee, and cinnamon, something to light when at home, tucked together on the couch with no plans.
He stood in line, this time not looking back at the checkout counter you would have been waiting for him at. His smile plastered on his face as you made silly faces at him or blew him kisses. He would pretend to catch them, unashamed of the people around him watching his display of obsession. He had walked into your orbit, and he would stay as long as he could, circling you like a moon, round and round, never dizzy.
But now your ghost was waiting at the edge of his periphery, the memory like a haunting, your air kisses jaw breaking sucker punches if he looked too long at something he had let burn too bright. So instead, he focuses on the chalkboard menu even when he knows he's ordering the same thing he always orders. The same cup of coffee taste that he had kissed off your lips so many times before.
He practiced how exactly he would pass it to you in his mind. Where he would place it, whether you were in the living room, your bedroom, or the one opening the door for him. He stood in line, blushing as if you were looking up to him then, and not just a figment of his imagination, a mix of who you were at the house in Montauk and who you had been living in your apartment when everything had been fresh and new.
You'd lean against the door, not quite letting him in. This sad, resigned look falling away to the faintest smile, the kind that warmed his cheeks and twisted a hand around his heart. He would let you pull it free from his ribs, let you yell at him to leave, go back to the beach, wait. He would let you pull him in, hand twisting in the fabric of his sweater as he pressed his forehead to yours, shyly breathing out that he couldn't stay away any longer, couldn't keep himself from seeing you.
He was a tornado of emotions, ribbons tied tight over his insides, guts made into knots at the idea of you pushing him away. He would sell the house, move back to the city, start over, fresh like scar tissue, anything, even if it hurt.
The barista called out his name, messily written on the side of two takeaway cups when he heard it.
Your laugh, bubbly and alive.
If there had been a moment to haunt him, it should not have been now, not when he was so close to seeing you. Not when you had not run through the halls of his dreams, or down the sand dunes covered in sand after him as he jumped into the winter water. You should have been there, even if you were just a laugh he had imagined hearing. This felt cruel but not artificial. Because deep down he knew he could never forget the way your laugh had sounded, anywhere, caught in the wind, at his neck, pressed into his skin, his lips, and most certainly here between the stacks of books where you had spent so much time trying to keep it down when he told you jokes that weren't even fun.
It shocked him still, limbs prickling over as they had when he went in after the most trivial mug you guys shared. He feared turning around to find a stranger who had the same laugh, although he didn't think it was possible, and that's what made it so much worse. He knew exactly how you had sounded, had captured the sound in his mouth and swallowed it down, answered to it over the phone with his own laugh, played the soundtrack in his dreams because he knew.
And when it came again, it echoed in his ears, over the coffee grinder, over the honking cars in the stress, and even over the sound of his own racing heart. Because it was beating wildly in his chest, both hands fisting coffees, the sea of people parting around him as he stood looking down at his feet, as if he looked back, he would know there would be an angel waiting, frozen in stone just as him, but there.
“I'll call you after my shift ends,” it was small, something he had heard too many times when he had been late at work and you had early off. He remembered the way you would tease him about lying in his bed with him gone, rolled up in the blankets half dressed, waiting for him. He’d groan, beg the universe for more time off, or at least schedules that lined up, and still he would wait for your call on your walk to his place, standing outside his work building on a break just to stay on the phone after your shift had ended so he knew you made it home safe.
“Stop worrying, you act like I haven't had this job and the exact same walk back to the apartment before.” and again you chuckle, “Okay, I'm hanging up now, Kai, byeee, stop worrying about me pleaseee,” and he turned around, fully to see across the short path it was to the checkout where he had found you so many times before just like this. Two coffees in hand and a prayer that no one else would walk up to disturb the two of you for the whole shift, so he could stay perched right there talking your ear off as if he had nothing better to do because he didn't.
He didn't know exactly what to expect when seeing you again, at least not here, not when he had been planning everything in his head about seeing you in the apartment, laughing or not, but here it felt as if he had walked into a spider web, caught like the fly on the way he saw himself as now.
You turned off your phone, placing it face down next to the register as you pulled a stack of books over for you to place stickers on. It had been one of your favorite things to do, meticulous in your work as you lined up barcodes and numbers with the spine.
And he couldn't help himself but admit you did look better, fuller, as if you were finally taking meals at the right times, eyes less sleepless but still slightly hollow from the months of late nights and long days.
It scared him to think he had not grown at all in his time apart, that you would see someone stuck in a past you had run from and did not care to turn back to. He had done nothing but clean, and even that had been in silence, no pondering besides the questions of what he could have done differently, and the anger. He felt nothing now but panic that he would not live up to whatever it was that had helped you.
Worried that you were growing separately and not intertwined as you had been before. And it was okay, maybe the two of you had been too codependent, maybe it was good to find yourselves away from one another. But he still felt as if he hadn't found anything at all. He had done nothing but keep everything the same, silently waiting to orbit his moon again.
He squashed his fears, takeaway cups burning into his hands because he forgot the paper sleeves at the sound of your happiness, and he walked up to the counter.
You did not look up at first, and he took the time to follow the shape of your nose, how it dipped and led to your lips, pulled between your teeth as you lined your sticker, concentrated on the task to not notice him. Not until he whispered a weak, “hey,”
It had taken almost everything in him to say, his heart bleeding on his sleeve as you looked up, your eyes, the ones he knew so well, passing over him, and this time without a spark of realization for who was standing in front of you. “Hi, how can I help you, sir?”
Soobin gave a humorless chuckle, dry and brittle enough to crack a bit of the ice inside him. Maybe it would have been different if you had looked as he remembered, or if you had said it with the light in your eyes that you got from joking with him, or even if it didn't gut him to truly realize that he really had done nothing but wallow while you grew.
But as the time stretched where he did nothing but look at you without speaking, he realized there was no recognition in your eyes. This was a look you gave to customers who truly did come to the counter to ask for help, your questioning, “Sir?” echoing around him before he opened his mouth like a fish out of water.
He wasn't even angry, shocked that he must have looked so different, just as you did as time passed, but it had been two weeks, nothing long enough to forget, and yet you didn't even get the glint he saw at the edge of your eyes when you turned your attention to him. He had seen it even at your lowest, memorized the look as if he had been a light you couldn't turn away from and chose to look at head-on.
Now there was nothing. Not a single glint, no teasing, no anything. Just a girl who had gone off and left him bleeding because it was better than bleeding out right next to him. Maybe he had been pulling you down, and he hadn't even noticed. Every talk he had with himself over these past two weeks had been right; you had been right to leave because he truly hadn't been enough for you. And he knew it must have been the truth seeing you here like this.
“I forgot what I was going to say.” And as his world was falling apart, you smiled the same as you did on the beach in Montauk, when he didn't know you, and you didn't know him, and your laugh grabbed him in its hold just the same. Saying, “They sell sandals right on the edge of the beach, right next to the beach houses,” instead of, “If you remember it, just let me know, I'll be here all day.”
He felt himself nod, chin making the motion as he turned on a foot too numb to know where it was going, and he left. Pushed past the door with his back so that he could catch on glance at you, not even turning to watch him leave, your head dipped to place the next sticker on the spine of a book he would never read.
His hands were trembling, following the pattern of the earthquake he was experiencing as his hands clammed too tight over the cups he had picked up, one for you, one for him, now crushed, coffee spilling over the backs of his hands like a caress’ he’d brush over your cheeks. The scalding hot liquid bleeding into the cuffs of his coat before he let the cups fall to the concrete floor, splattering like paint onto his shoes, the street.
Eyes burning, he knew how he must look, fighting back tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot as he gasped silently for air. His chest tightened with every step he took, air scratching down his throat as he reached into his pocket for his phone, for something to ground him as he was running away. Fingers numb and far too slippery, he dialed the only person who would give him a straight answer.
Kai had been avoiding his calls, texting back hours later with the same line, She's doing okay, I'll let you know if anything changes. But it seems he had lied, you had changed right before his eyes, and he hadn't found it important enough to mention. ‘Okay’ seemed to mean something internally different to him than it did to Soobin. This was better than okay; seeing you like this was when you was so much better was devastatingly bittersweet. You did not look as you did coming home from your job in Montauk; this was a new look, refined and aged as if your healing had taken no time, and his had stayed still open, frozen.
He was happy and yet torn apart. Yeonjun could hear it over the phone, the shocked gasping mixed with the swift humiliation that he knew would come, “I just saw- I um-” he was breaking down, walking so fast, weaving between the walkers on the street, avoiding bicyclists, and honking cars. He didn't know where he was going, paying no attention to street signs but needing to bring back the distance as if that would help fix him too, give him the sight you had gained living back out here.
“Soobin-” he didn't know what to say, didn’t know how to even when he had known it would come eventually.
“She acted like she didn’t even know me,” he was crying now, tears hot on his cheeks, his hand pressing too hard into his skin to push them away.
There was no need to be angry, not now, not at you. He knew this is what was best, this is what was needed for you, the relationship but it didnt hurt any less to see you happy without him, sitting at your old job like the world had moved on and he had been there on the beach waiting for you to dock your boat at the edge of the clif you had planned to build your life together.
He was cracking open again, as if seeing you had snapped him, and now everything was spilling out, raw and unfiltered as he went, “she just- God, she just looked right past me, she didn’t see me like she does, she just smiled,” he laughed something broken and ugly, wet with his tears, voice slick with the sound, “was i that bad? Had I been that bad? Did I not see it? Did I not have it in me enough for her to stick around to not act like she doesn't know me anymore? Or have I changed that much not having her with me? Have I been that different?”
Soobin walked right into someone, tilting and running into the wall from the collision, “Watch it!” he didn't even register the stinging of his shoulder, moving forward without any plans.
“Where are you?” Yeonjun stood on the other end of the line, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his keys. He had witnessed you falling apart and didn't enjoy hearing your other half melting away.
“I don’t know,” he was crossing street after street, not caring if the light was green to walk or not, he didn't even know the direction, just away from what felt close to shame. You hadn’t even been wearing his ring.
“Meet me at the diner near your old place, the one we had your birthday at before you moved,” he was nodding like Yeonjun could see, looking up at the street signs now having something to do, someone to explain, a direction to go besides home to a house he had cleaned till he saw bleached bone and faded memories. “Stay on the line, I'll be there in ten.”
Neither of them talked as they made their way, the clash of sound from Yeonjun’s side of the phone mixing with Soobin’s as he made it into the only empty booth in the otherwise full diner.
It was the one in the far back, the same one he had sat at for his birthday, only now it was him, clutching the plastic casing of his phone with white knuckles, and fighting back tears as the fresh sleet started to rain down against the window behind him. The low hushed mumbling of the other patrons felt like bees in a hive, buzzing over his skin, tingling behind his ears at the spot you loved to kiss when tucked into bed against him.
There was no hiding from yeonjun when he came, hair wet and sticking to his temples before he pushed it back, shaking from the cold after getting caught in the frozen rain. Soobin was hot all over, but he knew his body must have felt it somewhere that he was dripping, his breaths had come out in puffs of smoke, the city blurring around him as he made it in, the neon sign fuzzing out around the edges telling him he had arrived.
He had not tried to wipe his eyes, not anymore as he sat back, replaying your words coated in professionalism, “how can i help you, sir?” it felt like a knife he couldn't quite pull out, one he didn't know if he had placed there himself or if you did.
“She looked right at me and pretended to not even know me,”
Yeonjun had nothing to say, his jaw tight, cracking under the pressure of his teeth as he tried to hold in the confession he knew soobin deserved. Kai had promised not to tell but yeonjun never did, he had promised to look out for him, not keep secrets. And now soobin was a crumbling house, the roof ripped off in the storm, folding in on itself with splintering wood and curses.
“Shes better now, or looks it… she looks happy, she's laughing,” he sniffled, lips turned down as he tried to hold in the sob waiting to break through, "happier than she was with me,” it had been all he wanted, for you to find some way back to him, to be okay.
You had not broken up with him, you had taken the ring, left all your things, made it seem as if you would be right back, the bed still unmade, your sweater thrown over the edge, his heart still in your palms. He wanted you to find yourself, to know that it was okay to grieve in any way you needed but he hadn't seen you pushing him away, hadn't seen this cruel ending coming, and maybe that's what had been the final stab. Knowing that whatever you had found, he could not find with you, had not been a part of some plan that was out there in your healing, instead, he was this: a boy sitting in a diner where he once wished for a life with you on candles weak enough to snap under careless fingers.
“I wanted her to be happy, to smile again, to laugh,” and he felt evil for wishing anything different, not if he was the one who had been bringing you down. “I just didn't think she would act as if she didn't know me. I should have run after her, but that's stupid because she wasn't doing well; she needed this, she didn't need me. But it hurts so fucking much to realize that,”
“Wanting her to be okay doesn't change the fact that it would hurt like hell to be without her.” Yeonjun took a breath, using the clinking of the plates from the bar seats to push in further. You were his friend first, but it would kill you to be in his place; it would kill you to know that just as Kai and Yeonjun tried to convince you of his love that he did feel the loss of you just as deeply as you would have felt his. “Soobin, she's not acting.”
His face felt tight, the confusion settling in for as long as it took for yeonjun to continue, to mutter the name of the procedure as if it hadn't been on his mind. It had been the one thing that had brought back so much emotion into you in the last few months, your anger sharp and instant, so vivid in comparison to the way you had hollowed out for him. He knew exactly why you had done it, what had pushed you over the edge to get to this point.
“I thought I was…I don't know why I thought I was ever going to be enough.” The words caught on his trembling lips, his sob soft like a last breath, the confession taking everything in him, his last little hope that he had over everything. Because he understood exactly what it all meant, “I should have known, I should have seen it coming,”
Yeonjun opened his mouth, but soobin did not stop; he kept going, spilling out as if the knife had finally been pulled and it was taking all the blood from his body, every word that was left of him. “I would have changed. I didn't know how, but I could have learned. I cleaned the house. I would have sold the damn thing; it doesn't mean anything without her. I would have done anything. Instead, I just stood around and watched her bleed out in front of me without saying a damn thing and thought it was love, and I deserve it- I promised so much and I wasted it all- Even through my grief, I tried,”
“Stop it- she didn't do it because you weren't enough-”
“You can't tell me it wasn't one of the reasons- I was content, pushing through the day and letting us try and heal around each other, and I didn't even see, I mean I saw- but I hoped I would be enough, even if we were apart, even if it took us time, I hoped she would come back to me.”
“She loved you, down to the last second, I know she did, and she didn't do it because she didn't, she did it because she loved so much. I know she wanted to be more for you, to do more, and she felt this was the only way, and I'm so sorry,” Yeonjun looked down at the table, his eyes following the soft circles decorating the wood, sanded down to be something useful. He had kept to himself for a long while after you had come back to Kai's apartment from Montauk, sobbing, hollowed out with the only sign of life being that aching sound he would never get out of his head. He knows Soobin had tried; you had told him enough for him to see it, but that wasn't the poison that had been put in the well. “But love is not just about showing up, it's about showing yourself, and I don't think she's been herself for a long, long time,”
And soobin didn't think he had either. Not since he lost you and you hadn't slipped through his fingers two weeks ago, it had been the moment he had woken up alone in a bed dotted with blood in the space you should have filled.
He took the train back to the house out in Montauk, no more home than a museum, walked past the front door and around to the back, the moon hanging heavy in the sky, the stars hidden behind clouds painted over their canvas. He walked down the creaking wooden sun-bleached path to the sand, his jaw just as set as his mind was when he pulled his phone out to call Beomgyu.
Answering on the first ring, he cautioned his name, “Soobin?”
“I need you to tell me what I'm doing is right, even if it's wrong,” he could hear Beomgyu’s shuffling on the other end, sitting up in bed, on his sofa. “Just lie to me,” and maybe he called Beomgyu because he knew he wouldn’t.
“Today I went to see her, and I heard her laugh. Like a genuine one, the kind that makes you want to laugh with her, the kind that I love so much and haven’t heard in forever,” he bit on his inner lip, hard enough until it bled, before he continued, “and the second I heard it, I knew I'd ruin it, just by being there,” he whispered it, said it aloud because he didn't have you who would have known what he was feeling with a single look.
“And then Yeonjun told me that she…she erased everything, and I feel so selfish,” he had thought it over on the train, just as you must have when you left and he didn't run after you. And he would have, he wanted to, but had beaten himself down into the sand just hoping that you would ask him to come with, that you would turn back around and chase him with the realization that you needed him just as badly as he needed you.
Only now he felt as if he was holding onto the corpse of your relationship, clutching you to his chest, every memory a compression on a chest long since done rising and falling, every plea was a breath past lips that did not wish to breathe any longer. Keeping his memories now after knowing what you had done to survive felt like desecration, and he knows himself.
If he kept on to everything, he would die; it would poison him to know that he couldn't run to the city to find you, to confess his love over and over, even if you didn't know him. He was selfish when it came to you, and he hated it about himself, and he didn't want to ruin your happiness to find a taste of what had been. He saw what the memories had done to you, what they had done to him, and it was not anything he ever wanted to you to feel ever again. Forgetting would be a mutual mercy for you both. I final goodbye that did not tease him with the possibility of messing up the one thing you had wanted. Peace.
“If I did the same, it would be like meeting her halfway, carrying the rest of the burden to bury, because I don't think I can live knowing I had everything I ever wanted and all I needed to do was go to New York to try and get it back. I’d ruin everything again, and I hate how badly I want to do it anyways, even when I know it's wrong. If i dont erase her, ill still be imagining her laughing as I dust the house I got for us, I’d dream she was just in the living room and I fell asleep too early for her to see her climb in the bed after me, I’d jump into the water and search for her until I drowned. I'd never give her up, not when I needed to, not when I knew the result of letting her walk away the first time. I would have never let her leave, Beomgyu, I’d take it back, I’d run after her, I’d do it all over again because I love her, I love her, I love-”
And for the first time Beomgyu spoke, soft and unwilling to hide the pain he felt for his friends, “do you really think that's love?” anything was better than nothing at all, years of your relationship would be gone in an instant, and maybe it was better than pain, maybe anything was better than that, but he’d like to hope somewhere out there you two would find each other, work it out without having to erase the love.
His throat closed, but he forced the words out anyway, “I think it’s the only thing I have left to give her,”
Soobin sat with the phone in his hand until he watched the sun start to rise, long after the call had ended with Beomgyu, who promised to take care of the house, sell it with all its furniture that you had picked out, help him move back into the city, and take him to the inevitable appointment.
He was ashamed to say he felt closest to you sitting in the office chair, his one item to bring forth your memory tucked against the healing scar across the lifeline on his palm. A single folded receipt that he had saved under a fridge magnet, your handwriting tattooed along his veins, your number, the one he almost called every night, right on the bottom with a little heart written next to that girl from Montauk.
You had been that girl, and so, so much more to him. And when they pushed back his hair with their gloved fingers, it made him cringe to know he would not remember the feel of your hands twisting the fine strands of his hair until he fell asleep.
He wondered if you had been scared or relieved to sit back against the unforgiving pleather of the chair. If the stink of the alcohol pad and the buzzing of the headpiece made you just as sick as he felt. Queasy enough to close your eyes and fall back into a memory you had not visited in so long it felt like coming home.
“We will be okay,” he had been optimistic, leaning against the bathtub, your body spilling onto his as he silently hoped for the pregnancy tests to read positive because all he could see was a baby with your smile, echoing your laugh. Walking into a bedroom on the beach, with you leaning back against the headboard, your baby laying on your chest, and him climbing in after you.
Every warm sheet wrapped around you, only for his eyes to open to find he was asleep on a bed swaying in the middle of the ocean, cold and empty, your ring, the one he kissed at your knuckles waiting on the pillow, the one he leaned down to press his face into until he couldn't breathe.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” your fingers in his hair, scratching down his bare back, lips kissing his shoulders, right at the nape of his neck, he turned over, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your collar, into your warmth. “I should be able to sleep in on my birthday.” your laugh alive, and for him and not a room full of people you didn't know, even ones you had chosen to forget.
“But if you sleep in, I won't be able to give you my gift,” and he rolled onto you, followed the same trail of kisses he repeated until he knew in another life, every spot would turn into a freckle, a vivid mark of his love left for him to find time and time again throughout every lifetime. He caught your words on his lips, your moans in his mouth, your laugh right against his ribs. His hands digging into the sheets, the sand, his nose drawing along your chin until you pushed him, rolled him onto his back, sitting above him like the sun.
He closed his eyes for only a second, and you were gone, and he was alone again, sitting up as he gasped, half naked in the snow, his boxers cold, his socks wet. “Oh god, you fell.” Your laugh doubled you over, shivering and pale as you wrapped your arms around your middle. He did not remember whose idea it was to go nearly skinny dipping mid January in the ocean, the snow thick on every guardrail, the wind cutting against his wet skin. “Hard.”
You had run up to him, let him pull you down with him, screeching at the cold waves lapping at the shore, his lips turning blue as the two of you grabbed all your clothes, running back to the rental beach house to climb into the tub, the hot water raining down as he peeled off your bra, soaked your hair with the steaming showerhead. The rush of the sound was loud like the passing train outside his childhood bedroom window.
The same window that faced out to the tracks, his bed, still made with his old high school navy blue sheets, nestled against the wall where you examined every photo he had pinned up. He had never had a girl in his bed before, not that one, not anyone he loved as much as you. “You have stars on the ceiling,” the sticky faded green stars, still holding on to the white popcorn of the roof. He had flipped off the switch, let them glow for themselves as you lay back against his only pillow, making room for him to climb in next to you, close enough so both of you were slightly hanging off either edge.
“My mom put them up for me, said I have stars on my baby mobile, and they helped me go to sleep.” Your knuckle had brushed the back of his hand until he stiffened, blushing in the dark of his room as if you two hadn’t kissed, as if you hadn’t just met his mom, and said I love you.
You had slipped your hand into his, looking up at the green stars as if you were lying in the grass on a warm summer's day, sharing first love confessions, and he couldn't help himself but say into the night, “I wish we had met when we were kids, but I still don't think that's enough time to love you the way I was made to,”
And somewhere down the hall, he had heard the phone ring, his mother's voice interrupting the moment as she yelled out for him to pick up the landline for her. But before he could roll away, you had tightened your hand in his, pressing a whisper to his ear like a kiss, “There's never enough time, so make sure you stay with me.”
“Wait-” he wanted to a redo of this one, to not let the words morph into a lie so far down the line, his hands, sweaty against the armrests of the chairs, slipped as he tried to get a better grip to sit up with, a nurse pressing him down softly muttered behind her mask, “we are almost done,”
And as he leaned back into you, the phone still ringing, like the warning bell of a disaster waiting to happen he whispered back, “I promise I'll stay, I’d run after you, I don't think I'd ever just be able to watch you leave,”
He shook his head, hard enough for the head piece to jostle, the nurse rushing to place it back as he reached for the phone in his memories, answering with a lovesick smile warped onto his lips when he saw your name appear on the caller ID, a white heart at the end as if he could mimic the one you had drawn for him on the receipt he kept pinned to his fridge.
“We made it to the end,” he could hear the smile in your voice, right over the sound of Yeonjun and Kai bickering in the back. On the yearly trip the three of you took out to Montauk, the first weekend you would be spending without an excuse to see Soobin, even if it had only been a month since you had met.
“You say it so hauntingly,” he sat on his couch, leaning back, trying to imagine you curled up right next to him, looking up with that specific shine you got in your eyes that made him feel like the only person in the world.
“Hauntingly beautiful, I hope, since it just so happens to be the spot we will be telling our friends we met at,” he had wondered if this was what the honeymoon phase was, or if this would be the rest of his life, giddy to pick up the phone when you called, aching to have you right next to him. He knew you had meant your families. Your friends, and his had been teasing the two of you for the entirety of the month when you came back to your separate apartments with grins wide enough to make anyone wonder what had gotten into you.
“Right at the end?”
“Right at the end.” You echoed back, “We should get a mug for your place that has that on it, something for me to drink out of.”
“You drink out of my mug just fine,” he could see you sitting on his kitchen counter, blowing the steam of your tea into his face, your bottom lip flush against the navy porcelain as you tried to convince yourself the too hot mug was ready to be sipped from. He’d take it from you so you wouldn't burn the roof of your mouth, again, and kiss you just because he couldn't help himself, your lips so warm he couldn't help but pull you in again and again.
“But I want to share tea, not watch you sip on a glass of cold water, while I get hot water,” you had brought it up every time you came over, and he wanted to hold out longer, listen to you beg to spend time with him even if it was just to share tea and fold the laundry you had brought over to his place and his in unit washer and dryer.
“Fine, next time we go out there together, we can pick up a mug, maybe make it a tradition,” you cheered over the phone, happy, and he even ventured to guess, in love, even if it was new, it had felt like he had known you a lifetime.
“I miss you.” It had only been four hours then, or maybe even in his memories, he knew that he would be sitting in that chair, missing you for a lot longer than he ever wanted to.
“You dooo?” You had stepped outside, so close to the surf he could hear the sound of the waves like a heartbeat.
“I do.”
You gasped, hand over your heart, or maybe wrapped around his, “You know that basically makes us married now?”
“Does it?” and he was a blushing mess, smiling in his empty apartment, dimples hurting his cheeks, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
“Uh-huh, so now you have to make plans to join me and see the place where we are going to spend the rest of our lives,” the waves crashed, and he could almost see the lighthouse, golden like the light he knew your love bled.
“In the place we met?”
“The very same,” he could see it written out on the mug, knew it was the place he'd propose to you, even if in that moment he felt as if the two of you were already married, your pinkies tied together with an invisible red string, winding round and round the two of you, pulling you in together until the end of time.
“I do miss you… a lot,” and he couldn't tell if he had said it allowed, like he was repeating the lines of his favorite movie, or if it was an echo of a past he was now desperately regretting letting go of. He imagined your face looking up at him, his eyes tracing the slope of your nose, catching on your lips right before he pulled you in for a kiss, your eyes recognizing him in every shade of your life, even past this.
“I guess you’ll just have to come over and meet me in Montauk.”
an: this fic is heavy and i found it very cathartic for me to write it. ive never lost a child but its been something thats haunted my nightmares for years. i channeled a lot of my own fears into this fic as well as making it an outlet to talk about the toll depression can take on a person. ive been there and i would never wish that upon anyone. i know its not much but either way just know im always open to talking <333 thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic. and shoutout to anyone who read this on mobile, if you scrolled out and still read it i love you so bad and im so sorry- ⸝⸝⸝
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when you walked into the classroom, a smile on your face and your robe slipping to the ground, kai knew that you’d be the prettiest piece of artwork he would ever paint have the pleasure of painting. you took his breath away and he vowed then and there that he would try and capture your likeness in any way that he possibly could—and you vowed to let him.
( 𝓷 )。 HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMME!!! eee hehe @tyunningism i love you so so much, and i’m so thankful to call you my friend and to have you in my life! so here is a gift from me to you, i hope you had the most amazing birthday ever my love!!~~ (´ε｀ ʃƪ)♡♡♡ hehe this one is bridgerton inspired, so i hope that you enjoy!!! ♡
Kai was accustomed to gazing at beautiful pieces of artworks, but none have ever truly taken his breath away like this one has. He was mingling with his other artist friends, inquiring about different paints that they use for this color and running their hands against different types of canvases, when you walked in the room. Your hair was soft and unrestrained, and there was a light green silk robe wrapped around your body that made you even more alluring. When you stepped in the room, all of the chatter stopped as all eyes fell onto you. Kai looked around at the other men in the room and the way their paintbrushes nearly fell from their fingertips, an amused smile on his face, before he realized that he had his hand directly on top of his palette.
You were absolutely breathtaking and everyone in the room noticed it. Graceful, you stepped towards the center of the room where there was a red velvet fainting couch and finally took a look around the room. Your smile was light and playful, sultry around the edges as you slowly undid the knot at your waist as your eyes continued its sweep. When your gaze landed on Kai's he nearly staggered back from how it threw him off-balance. You were beautiful.
Kai's face flushed when you held his stare and pulled the silk robe off completely and let it drift to the floor. Whistles erupted around him as his friends nudged him playfully, and you wouldn't help the soft laugh that parted from your lips as you laid on the velvet fainting couch and posed for the class.
The heat only intensified as Kai traced the curves of your naked body with his eyes, committing them to memory before he attempted to capture them on paper. Occasionally, you would flick your gaze over to him for the briefest of moments and Kai's breath would be taken away all over again.
The teacher rounded to Kai's easel and gave him a disapproving look. "If you want to be in this class, young man, you must paint!" Kai just nodded embarrassingly and picked up his pace.
As he painted, you started to angle your body towards the direction in which Kai stood until you faced him completely and caught Kai's stare every time he looked up from his easel. Kai made sure he didn't miss a single detail, down to the way the light was shining down on you and reflecting off of strands of your hair. He captured it all. It felt like it was only the two of you in the room and the tension between you both rose with every passing second.
Kai was too caught up in his portrait of you, mulling agonizingly over the curve of your hip, when you suddenly sat up from your pose and reached down to grab your robe. Distantly, Kai heard the sound of his teacher's voice telling them that they'd practice painting the human body more the following week, but he was too focused on the way you looked conveyed by paint. Even with his amateur skills with a brush and his sometimes too outlandish choice of paints, you looked otherworldly.
"What a gorgeous palette you chose," you spoke kindly, walking up behind him with your robe clutched together and untied, "Really brings out my eyes, don't you think?" You smiled at him and Kai knew that he'd do anything to be able to paint it—to get to know your name and paint you more intimately again. But, before Kai could push the words out of his throat, you smiled at him once more and turned on your feet—glancing over your shoulder with a spirited chuckle as you left the room.
Weeks pass by and Kai hasn't seen you again. There are new models on rotation that his class paints and each time he waits for you to walk through the door, but you never do.
Kai couldn't get you out of his mind. Within the weeks, sketchbooks were filled with fleeting half-drawn sketches of your face, of the way your hair reflected the light. He has paintings lying against his walls of your smile and the way your bare body angled towards him invitingly, there's pastel drawings of the curve of your hip and the arch of your back, and then there's the piles and piles of crumbled up pieces of paper with your eyes drawn on them. For some reason, Kai just couldn't get them right and every time he went to try again your words would float through his mind.
That's were he was at now, that same empty classroom with balls of paper surrounding him. Kai's class was long over, but he was still here, still trying to capture your image. Get it out of his head in the hopes that you weren't just part of his imagination and in a chance that it would make you appear again. Kai had his portrait of you sitting on his easel and he couldn't help but feel like it was mocking him. He pulled at his hair as he ripped out another piece of paper from his sketchbook and crumbled it up.
"Do you need some assistance, my lord?" Kai heard a voice call out to him through his racing thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and paused, eyes wide as he came face to face with you again. This time, instead of a robe, you were wearing a dusty pink dress and your hair was intricately done up with matching pink and white ribbons adorned in it. "It seems you are having trouble catching my likeness."
You walked up to him and leaned over his shoulder and Kai froze. Pointing to the unfinished sketch of your eyes, you say, "They're a little bit closer together. Oh, and my eyelashes are much longer than that!" You hummed a little before rounding Kai's body and standing in front of him. You took the pad of paper from his hands and flipped it to a new, blank page. Taking Kai's hands, you dragged him over to where a neatly made bed now was instead of the previous couch. "Why don't you give it another go?" you asked Kai with a smile as you looked back up from the paper and to him.
Kai swallowed thickly, "A-Are you sure?" He would've thought that you'd be creeped out by his incessant need to try and convey your likeness in any way that he could, but you seemed quite pleased about it—like it had been your plan all along. "I understand if it's a bit odd…"
"Nonsense!" you quickly added. You pushed the sketchbook more into Kai's lap and sat up straight, facing him with a small smile. "Draw me."
So Kai did. You sat patiently as he marked down every detail of you onto the page down to the way the ribbons in your hair fell. As he drew you, you watched him. You watched the way his brows drew together in determination, the way he would shake his head the slightest bit when he drew a part of you wrong and went to erase it, the way his tongue would dart out to wet his dry lips, and the way his golden hair fell into his eyes. You think that Kai found you almost nearly as fascinating as you found him too.
When he presented the sketch to you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting away from yours, you jumped up and held the drawing close with a big smile on your face. Without thinking, you then jumped into his lap and pressed your lips to Kai's. That day, you had claimed it for yourself, promising to keep it safe.
You and Kai continued to meet up after hours where it could just be the two of you and you could let the intimacy between you blossom. It had started with more shy sketches of you, which then grew to include colorful pastels, until you were posing for Kai once again as he painted you. Each and every time he let you keep the works of you he created, and you always cherished his creations deeply.
Shared laughter filled the room and Kai chased you around the easels with paint covered fingers. On each easel was a painting of you from a different angle and it was almost like looking in a big mirror. "This is a new dress!" you shouted as you quickly glanced behind you and twirled around another easel.
"I will buy you a new one," Kai says as he manages to corner you against the the empty raised platform. The light from above cast down onto your face and brightened your bubbly expression and pretty smile. Kai stuck his paint-covered fingers out towards you and swiped some of the blue paint across your cheek. You gasped at him in return and he laughed.
"You'd ruin a lady's dress like this?" you countered, breaking free from him and grabbing his palette. You dipped your finger into the red paint and held it out to him in warning. "Do you even know the material that it's made out of?"
Kai laughed more. "You could always take it off…" he trailed teasingly and you raised your brows at him, the corners of your mouth raising too. You came up to him and swiped the red paint across his nose. Both of your faces were smudged with paint and so was any other skin that was exposed.
"Naughty…" you trail, turning your back to him but remaining to hold his gaze by looking over your shoulder. You lowered your eyes to the ground before looking up at Kai again. "Well… are you going to help me unbutton my dress?"
Kai strode forward, suddenly heavy on this feet. The last time he saw you with less clothes than you had on now was the first time the two of you met and he had painted you naked. As he slowly undid each one of the buttons on your dress, a sudden boldness overcame him. And when your dress fell to the floor and you were in nothing but a sheer white underlayer that caught in the light and splotched with colorful paint did the tension between the two of you flare. No longer were you worried about the paint getting on your clothing.
You had stuck your hand onto Kai's palette and turned to face him fully, a small and playful smile on your face. Cupping his cheek, you giggled as you covered Kai's face in an array of colors. You dragged it down to his neck and stopped right where his mole was. Kai raised his brows at you, a smile on his face, and you giggled more before he took the palette of paint from you.
The two of you chased each other around some more, your white chemise getting more and more covered by paint by the second. This time, you cornered Kai on the raised platform, purple paint dripping from your finger. "Say you surrender!" you exclaimed, holding your finger out.
Kai moved more onto the platform, laughing, as you cornered him more. He held his hands out, "I surrender." You wiped the paint onto your chemise with a smug and satisfied grin, ready to gloat about your win until you were being pulled down onto Kai.
His lips connected with yours and without a second thought you moved yours against his in sync and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You pushed him down onto the platform and pulled away from his lips. Your hands did quick work of his suit jacket and button up before you tossed them away from the two of you somewhere. Moving even quicker to the buttons at his pants, Kai brought his lips back to yours as you desperately tried to free him of his clothing.
Kai had his hands at your hips and in one swift motion he moved them up your body and pulled off your chemise so you were fully naked on top of him. He helped you pull the rest of his pants down and free his cock and you wasted no time to line it up with your dripping entrance.
"It took you long enough," you said between a moan as you slowly sunk down onto his length. "Was me naked in front of you not enough?"
Laughing against your lips, Kai smiled as he brief pulled away to watch himself disappear inside of you. "Next time I'll take the hint."
You pushed him down again as you started to move your hips, slowly at first as you teased Kai more before you picked up the pace. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let out soft moans. His hips lifted to meet yours and the pleasure that flowed through you made you roll your hips faster. Kai tried to pull you down so he could kiss you again, but you held a hand on his chest instead. His heart was racing, and you smiled.
The sounds of your body moving as one reverberated off the walls of the empty classroom. It only made the two of you pull each other together as your moans mixed. Anyone could walk in and catch the act you and Kai were committing, reputations could be ruined, but neither of you cared about that. Let them catch you—let them paint you. You and Kai were on display for all to see and you couldn't be more happier about it.
Kai flipped the two of you around so that you were on your hands and knees. His hands dragged along your hips and you looked back and chuckled at him. He slowly pushed himself in and out of you and watched the way that his big cock was sucked in by your body. Kai bit hard on his bottom lip as a groan moved around his lips. "I wish I could paint you right now… Your body is even more beautiful up close."
It was like he couldn't curb his hunger and want for you any longer. He was torn between him as the painter and him as the person who desired you the most. Kai rammed into you and you steadied yourself on the platform as your back arched and a moan flew out of your mouth.
His hands roamed all over your body like he was trying to paint it in his mind by touch. Each brush of his skin against your made you shiver and made his cock sliding against your walls feel even more intoxicating. Kai wrapped a hand around your stomach and pulled you close to his chest as he kept fucking into you. You turned to catch his gaze and kiss him again. "Paint me then," you say low and around the edges of another moan. "Make me your muse."
You looked him in his eyes again and hoped that he could see the want swirling within them. You wanted him to make you his, to immortalize you in his paintings and to claim your body with his. Kai kissed you again.
Moaning against his lips, you held tightly onto Kai's arm still wrapped around your stomach as your body tensed up. Kai held you closed to him and fucked into you faster as he chases his own release. You pulled away from his lips and fell forward as your thighs trembled. Kai's hand ran down your back as his skin slapped against yours. "I want to paint the way you fall apart," he whispered, and that made everything in you burn hot until your whole body was finally set ablaze.
You painted Kai's cock a pretty white as you slumped forward. Behind you, you heard him curse under his breath as he spread your ass apart and watched the way your release coated his length as he kept thrusting into you. You looked back at him with pleading eyes and Kai cursed again, a loud moan falling from his lips as his hips stilled against your and he buried his cock deep inside of you.
Quickly, you pulled yourself off of him and turned around so the two of you were facing each other. Kai's brows drew forward, and there was a question on his tongue before you grabbed his cock with you hand and started pumping him over your stomach. Kai lurched forward, his eyes squeezing shut as he swallowed down another moan, and you giggled at him. Spurts of milky white splattered across your stomach and you smiled more as soft moans rang out of Kai's mouth until your hand was dripping what your stomach didn't catch.
Kai's eyes opened and then widened when he saw you in front of him, dripping your own release onto the raised platform and covered in his cum with his cock still in your hand. With your other hand, you reached down and collected some of it from your stomach and brought it to your lips. Kai watched the way your tongue swirled around your fingers and the blood rushed to his cock again, making you giggle. You spread you legs open for him more and Kai's eyes glued to how pretty your pussy looked for him. His fingers ran down your stomach, collecting his own cum in the process, as the made their descent down to it. The tips of them skirted along the edges of your folds and Kai took in how you shined beneath the light.
"Kai," you say, a hint of playfulness in your tone. Kai dragged his eyes back up to yours inch by inch, wanting to keep this memory fresh in his mind. He looked at you with big eyes as his hand ran up the back of your thigh to open you up further. "Paint me."
You saw the shaky inhale Kai breathed in as his eyes grew wider. Your smile grew as you watched the desire swirl in them. "And then we can go again," you continue.
✉️ ⦂ I HATE THIS SO MUCH ARRGHSSHSHHSH,,.,: ITS SO BAD. i’m so sorry emme please forgive me for this terror against humanity… (◞‸◟；) i have failed you, but i will do WAYYY way better by you next time i promise <//3
I'M SO GLAD I'VE FIBALLY GOTTEN TO THIS AAAAAA I'M SO EXCITEDDDDDDD this is the best birthday gift ever and i love you so so much for this Kipo especially for all the hard work you put into it !! AND BRIDGERTON INSPIRED TOO?? EVEN BETTERRR 💗
Kai was accustomed to gazing at beautiful pieces of artworks, but none have ever truly taken his breath away like this one has. He was mingling with his other artist friends, inquiring about different paints that they use for this color and running their hands against different types of canvases, when you walked in the room. Your hair was soft and unrestrained, and there was a light green silk robe wrapped around your body that made you even more alluring. When you stepped in the room, all of the chatter stopped as all eyes fell onto you. Kai looked around at the other men in the room and the way their paintbrushes nearly fell from their fingertips, an amused smile on his face, before he realized that he had his hand directly on top of his palette. OOOOHHHH I SMELL DIAMOND OF THE SEASONNNN YUPP kai being clumsy with his hand on the palette AWWWWW I love him so bad
Kai's face flushed when you held his stare and pulled the silk robe off completely and let it drift to the floor. Whistles erupted around him as his friends nudged him playfully, and you wouldn't help the soft laugh that parted from your lips as you laid on the velvet fainting couch and posed for the class. EVERYONE LOOK AWAY I'M FOR HIS EYES ONLY mmmmmmm my favourite genre of kai.....flushed and shy GIVE ME TEN MORE OF THEM 💳
The teacher rounded to Kai's easel and gave him a disapproving look. "If you want to be in this class, young man, you must paint!" Kai just nodded embarrassingly and picked up his pace. Oh you best believe he can paint and coat me WHITE
If i'm not leaving looking like this after getting greedy with Kai then you've got the wrong person
As he painted, you started to angle your body towards the direction in which Kai stood until you faced him completely and caught Kai's stare every time he looked up from his easel. Kai made sure he didn't miss a single detail, down to the way the light was shining down on you and reflecting off of strands of your hair. He captured it all. It felt like it was only the two of you in the room and the tension between you both rose with every passing second. Paint me like one of your bridgerton girls 🚬🚬 THE TENSION WHEWWWW AND ANGLING TOWARDS HIM??? folding immediately I NEED NUDE ARTIST KAI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE PLEASE I'd strip for him anywhere I don't care if lady whistledown gets to me
"What a gorgeous palette you chose," you spoke kindly, walking up behind him with your robe clutched together and untied, "Really brings out my eyes, don't you think?" You smiled at him and Kai knew that he'd do anything to be able to paint it—to get to know your name and paint you more intimately again. But, before Kai could push the words out of his throat, you smiled at him once more and turned on your feet—glancing over your shoulder with a spirited chuckle as you left the room. Fuck we're so hot HELLOOOO i feel like i'm getting blue balled COME BACK??? DON'T GO???? I STILL HAVEN'T CRACKED KAI???
Weeks pass by and Kai hasn't seen you again. There are new models on rotation that his class paints and each time he waits for you to walk through the door, but you never do. oh my fucking god lady whistledown's got me why am i being replaced with other nude modelss like a side hoe GET ME BACK UP THERE I HAVE KAI TO SEE ME FOR THE NUDE MODEL I AM
Kai couldn't get you out of his mind. Within the weeks, sketchbooks were filled with fleeting half-drawn sketches of your face, of the way your hair reflected the light. He has paintings lying against his walls of your smile and the way your bare body angled towards him invitingly, there's pastel drawings of the curve of your hip and the arch of your back, and then there's the piles and piles of crumbled up pieces of paper with your eyes drawn on them. For some reason, Kai just couldn't get them right and every time he went to try again your words would float through his mind. WHAT A REAL LOVERMAN OMFG???? he loves the curve of our hip and the arch of our back I KNOW EXACTLY THE KIND OF GUY YOU ARE KAI (me too)
"Do you need some assistance, my lord?" Kai heard a voice call out to him through his racing thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and paused, eyes wide as he came face to face with you again. This time, instead of a robe, you were wearing a dusty pink dress and your hair was intricately done up with matching pink and white ribbons adorned in it. "It seems you are having trouble catching my likeness." Can i just point out you are so good at this kind of dialogue because if it were me it would sound like an awkward letter to Kate Middleton YOU ARE THE PERFECT PERSON TO WRITE THIS KIND OF TROPE ‼️‼️‼️‼️
Kai swallowed thickly, "A-Are you sure?" He would've thought that you'd be creeped out by his incessant need to try and convey your likeness in any way that he could, but you seemed quite pleased about it—like it had been your plan all along. "I understand if it's a bit odd…" NEVER DENY THE SEX APPEAL YOU HAVE AND THE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN US there's a bed right there for us take the opportunity and STUDY
So Kai did. You sat patiently as he marked down every detail of you onto the page down to the way the ribbons in your hair fell. As he drew you, you watched him. You watched the way his brows drew together in determination, the way he would shake his head the slightest bit when he drew a part of you wrong and went to erase it, the way his tongue would dart out to wet his dry lips, and the way his golden hair fell into his eyes. You think that Kai found you almost nearly as fascinating as you found him too. THE RIBBONS IN OUR HAIR I LOVEEEE if i were to have been set in the bridgertonverse i would be wearing tf out of bows and frilly dresses except if kai was there too i'd be butt booty naked HIS TONGUEEEEEEEEE HIS TONGUE AGH GIVE IT TO ME BLONDE ROMANTIC CONCEPT KAI WETTING HIS LIPS I'M SICKKKKK
When he presented the sketch to you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting away from yours, you jumped up and held the drawing close with a big smile on your face. Without thinking, you then jumped into his lap and pressed your lips to Kai's. That day, you had claimed it for yourself, promising to keep it safe. we're the biggest fucking tease ever WOAH
"I will buy you a new one," Kai says as he manages to corner you against the the empty raised platform. The light from above cast down onto your face and brightened your bubbly expression and pretty smile. Kai stuck his paint-covered fingers out towards you and swiped some of the blue paint across your cheek. You gasped at him in return and he laughed. UGHHH MY ANGEL this is so sweet omfg i crave for this please let's swipe paint across each other's faces lovingly this is so sick kipo this whole idea is swarming my head this is making me feel even more gutted bc i'm so attached to this scene AHHHH
"Naughty…" you trail, turning your back to him but remaining to hold his gaze by looking over your shoulder. You lowered your eyes to the ground before looking up at Kai again. "Well… are you going to help me unbutton my dress?" UNBUTTON IT UNBUTTON IT UNBUTTON IT
You had stuck your hand onto Kai's palette and turned to face him fully, a small and playful smile on your face. Cupping his cheek, you giggled as you covered Kai's face in an array of colors. You dragged it down to his neck and stopped right where his mole was. Kai raised his brows at you, a smile on his face, and you giggled more before he took the palette of paint from you. I'm so so simple. You mention Kai's moles to me? The fic has instantly entered my favourites
Kai had his hands at your hips and in one swift motion he moved them up your body and pulled off your chemise so you were fully naked on top of him. He helped you pull the rest of his pants down and free his cock and you wasted no time to line it up with your dripping entrance. OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENINGGGGGGGGG taking off our shirt in one swift go is hot i'm creaming everywhere
locking in for the smut because kipo was genuinely stuck writing like this for me i'm so so grateful MY BABY I KOVE YOU
You pushed him down again as you started to move your hips, slowly at first as you teased Kai more before you picked up the pace. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let out soft moans. His hips lifted to meet yours and the pleasure that flowed through you made you roll your hips faster. Kai tried to pull you down so he could kiss you again, but you held a hand on his chest instead. His heart was racing, and you smiled. WE'RE RIDING HIM WE'RE ON TOP I REPEAT WE'RE RIDING HIM ‼️‼️‼️📢📢📢📢📢
The sounds of your body moving as one reverberated off the walls of the empty classroom. It only made the two of you pull each other together as your moans mixed. Anyone could walk in and catch the act you and Kai were committing, reputations could be ruined, but neither of you cared about that. Let them catch you—let them paint you. You and Kai were on display for all to see and you couldn't be more happier about it. KIPO YOU GENIUSSSSSSSSSS GE.NI.US. this is the hottest thing ever omfg putting reputations on the line to get the best dick of my life AAAAAAND THE THOUGHT OF HAVING OTHERS PAINT US???? where are kai's friends from earlier? who'd be willing to do me a favour?
Kai flipped the two of you around so that you were on your hands and knees. His hands dragged along your hips and you looked back and chuckled at him. He slowly pushed himself in and out of you and watched the way that his big cock was sucked in by your body. Kai bit hard on his bottom lip as a groan moved around his lips. "I wish I could paint you right now… Your body is even more beautiful up close." condoms don't exist in this timeline PAINT ME WHITE
His hands roamed all over your body like he was trying to paint it in his mind by touch. Each brush of his skin against your made you shiver and made his cock sliding against your walls feel even more intoxicating. Kai wrapped a hand around your stomach and pulled you close to his chest as he kept fucking into you. You turned to catch his gaze and kiss him again. "Paint me then," you say low and around the edges of another moan. "Make me your muse." CALLED IT!!!! CALLED IT DID I NOT!!!??? KIPO YOU GET ME SO WELL paint us right now kai I beg..EXACTLY WHAT WE SAID "MAKE ME YOUR MUSE"
Moaning against his lips, you held tightly onto Kai's arm still wrapped around your stomach as your body tensed up. Kai held you closed to him and fucked into you faster as he chases his own release. You pulled away from his lips and fell forward as your thighs trembled. Kai's hand ran down your back as his skin slapped against yours. "I want to paint the way you fall apart," he whispered, and that made everything in you burn hot until your whole body was finally set ablaze. I love when a man knows just the right things to say THIS IS SO HOT MEOWWWWWWWWWW draw me wrecked and ruined YES
You painted Kai's cock a pretty white as you slumped forward. Behind you, you heard him curse under his breath as he spread your ass apart and watched the way your release coated his length as he kept thrusting into you. You looked back at him with pleading eyes and Kai cursed again, a loud moan falling from his lips as his hips stilled against your and he buried his cock deep inside of you. SQUIRTED ALL OVER THE FLOOR YOU GOTTA CATCH ME OH MY GOD??? the way i visualised this was crazy THIS IS SO INSANE FUCK MY FAVOURITE PARAGRAPH ALONGSIDE THE PAINT SMEARING SCENE OH MY GOS
Kai's eyes opened and then widened when he saw you in front of him, dripping your own release onto the raised platform and covered in his cum with his cock still in your hand. With your other hand, you reached down and collected some of it from your stomach and brought it to your lips. Kai watched the way your tongue swirled around your fingers and the blood rushed to his cock again, making you giggle. You spread you legs open for him more and Kai's eyes glued to how pretty your pussy looked for him. His fingers ran down your stomach, collecting his own cum in the process, as the made their descent down to it. The tips of them skirted along the edges of your folds and Kai took in how you shined beneath the light. ccccccum eating THIS IS MY SHITTTTTTTTTT OH MEOWWWW KAI INDEED YOU CAN PAINT ME cum eating turns me on so bad AND CUMMING INSIDE IN ONE FIC TOOO I'M BEING BLESSED I'M BEING BLESSED
AND THEN WE CAN GO AGAIN? WE SURE AS HELL ARE!!!! i can't believe you hated this fic kipo i need to open up your head and find the muppet in your head telling you this is bad BECAUSE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED AND MORE??? when you sent me the message saying you wrote it bridgerton freaky I genuinly got confused BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANTTTTTT AND TO USE ROMANTIC KAI TOO OHH YOU'VE OVERDONE YOURSELF KIPO I LOVE YOU SO SO BAD the creampie...what a blessing. Eating you out for this by the way I LOVED IT SO SO MUCH I'M GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT NUDE PAINTER KAI NOW AGHHHHHHHHH i'm riding his nose next watch out
ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR THIS FIC KIPO MY SWEETHEART <333333 I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE THIS UNTIL TOO LATE BUT I GENUINELY LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH THISIS THE BEST GIFT EVER thank you for working so hard my beautiful <333
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄， when visiting your boyfriend's hometown, you become obsessed with someone from his past.
pairing: college student!choi yeonjun & fem!reader
genre: smut, fluff, slightly angst
warnings: english is not my first language! MDNI - established relationship, implied dom!yeonjun and sub!reader, stalking kinda, reader is very insecure and needs constant reassurance (she is lowk annoying af and very paranoid w this, sorry), mentions of alcohol consumption, making out, titty sucking, oral (f! rec), fingering, cum eating, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), dirty talk, cursing, breading kink, creampie, pet names (angel, baby), lmk if I forgot something (probably did
wc: 6.6k
author's notes: im a little nervous about posting this fic, ngl. it's been a few years since i posted anything i wrote, and even tho i think i've improved a lot, i still have a long way to go, especially regarding my english. so please, lmk if I made any mistakes.
by the way, gyu is pretty clueless in this fic, but i don't think he's like that in real life, okay? just needed someone to plant the seed of evil in reader's head hehe
taglist and requests are open! likes, reblogs and reviews are welcome and will make me very happy :)
(masterlist)
You were insecure.
Anyone who knew you even slightly well would be able to tell that, and nobody knew you better than your boyfriend, Choi Yeonjun.
“Are you okay?” He briefly shifts his attention from the steering wheel to look at you, his face showing a mixture of slight concern and amusement, as if he already knew what was going through your head, which he probably does.
“Yeah, I guess.” You respond with a forced smile, trying to divert attention by looking out the car window. You jump slightly when you feel your boyfriend's hand on your thigh.
“You don't need to be so nervous, my parents will love you.” You let out a soft sigh, trying to relax the tension in your body.
“I hope so." You turn your attention to the landscape through the window, observing the entrance to your boyfriend's hometown.
You and Yeonjun met in your first year of college, due to fate and a group project. You, as someone who has always loved romance novels, always loved telling the story of how Yeonjun, the campus sweetheart, ended up with the quiet girl who hid behind a book and cardigans that were way too big for her body. A classic cliché, one that always warmed your heart. Now, after 8 months of dating, you're finally going to meet your boyfriend's family and friends, and you were terrified, at best.
For the rest of the way to Yeonjun's parents' house, you try your best to stay calm, constantly receiving words of comfort from your boyfriend. Still, nothing prepares you for the moment when the door is opened by a woman with fox eyes identical to your boyfriend's. The five seconds of silence that followed almost brought you to a collapse, but then the woman broke into a beautiful, warm smile.
“Jjunie!" she says with excitement and longing in her voice, making room for you to enter the house before holding her son in a long, loving embrace for long seconds, stroking her son's arms, as if checking if he's alright, smiling with relief upon realizing that he is alright. Then she turns her attention to you. "And you must be y/n," she smiles affectionately. "Thank you for taking such good care of my boy, dear, I've heard a lot about you.” She says before pulling you into a warm hug. You glance at your boyfriend over the older woman's shoulder, seeing him give a smile that says 'I told you so'.
You smile in relief and briefly return the hug. “Thank you Mrs. Choi, It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” She smiles brightly.
“Come in, let's eat something, you must be exhausted from the hours on the road.”
Suddenly, the door bursts open, startling you all. You see four men bursting through the door and throwing themselves on top of your boyfriend. Before you can react, you feel Mrs. Choi's hand touch your arm, and you see her smile at the scene.
After the initial moment of chaos, the men calm down and only then seem to notice your presence in the room.
“And you're the poor thing who ended up stuck with this guy here.” One of the guys says, smiling with deep, mesmerizing dimples. “I'm Soobin, we are finally meeting in person." You smile at them.
In fact, you know who they are from the pics and description your boyfriend already gave you, but not only that, you've heard their voices escaping through your boyfriend's headset several times while he and the guys were playing together. Your boyfriend's best friends, inseparable from preschool until the end of high school, when Yeonjun moved to Seoul to study arts, at the Global Cyber University, where he ended up in the same class as you.
“It's a pleasure to meet you all.” You bow slightly and hear one of the boys, Beomgyu, as you recognize him, let out a little laugh.
“Dude, she's so formal and cute, completely different from– ouch!” He's interrupted by a slap on the back of the neck that echoes through the room, coming from who you'd guess is Taehyun. "Oh, my bad.”
Something clicks in your mind, and before you can start sabotaging yourself, Mrs. Choi gets everyone's attention, calling them to go eat. The boys hurry to the kitchen making noise and you let out a soft laugh.
“This isn't how I expected you to meet them.” Yeonjun smiled, approaching.
“It's okay, they seem fun.” He chuckled softly in agreement, and before you could ask him who Beomgyu was talking about, he kissed your forehead.
“I'll take our bags upstairs to the room, you can go ahead, I'll be down for dinner, then we can go for a walk or wait for my father to get home from work so you can meet him.” You nod in agreement, He turns and goes upstairs, leaving you with a warm feeling in your heart, but a faint flame of insecurity begins to burn.
Who was Beomgyu talking about?
After a lively dinner at the Choi family's house and meeting Yeonjun's father, you decide to go upstairs to your boyfriend’s room for a nap while Yeonjun and his friends play video games in the living room.
You walk down the hallway smiling as you look at the photos hanging on the wall, showing Yeonjun at various stages of his life. You chuckle and pull your phone out of your pocket to take a picture when you see a specific photo. Yeonjun looks like he's 8 years old, with a bandage on his cheek and a missing tooth, surrounded by his group of friends and a little girl you don't know. You don't pay much attention to it until you come across a small photo mural at the end of the hallway where that same little girl appears several times, always next to Yeonjun, at different ages. You pout, confused. You can't remember Yeonjun ever mentioning a girl in his group of friends; your confusion increases when you entersee a specific photo that makes your stomach churn with a feeling of discomfort and something else you can't quite place. You definitely don't like this feeling.
"Oh, dear! You're here!" You jump in fright at the sound of Mrs. Choi's voice behind you. You turn around, hand on your chest, trying to appear casual; after all, you weren't doing anything wrong.
"Mrs. Choi, you startled me!" She chuckles, and you can see the older woman's sharp eyes focus on what you were looking at.
"That's Yunjin," she says as if she knows exactly what you're thinking. "She is one of Jjunie's friends. They grew up together." You nod, biting your lips, trying to muster the courage to ask, but apparently the doubt in your eyes is enough, as she adds in a sweeter, hesitant voice, "That picture... Well, she was his first girlfriend. They dated for a while at that age, a typical young thing, discovering the world and relationships.. I'm so sorry about that, dear; I should have taken that picture when I knew you were coming, but I forgot in the rush." She smiles slightly embarrassed, with an apologetic look.
"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Choi!" You try to give your most convincing smile. "I was just curious, Yeonjun looks cute in those photos."
She smiled in relief and approached to fix a strand of your hair. "My Yeonjunie seems very happy with you, I'm sure he loves you very much." You smiled gratefully and she patted your shoulder, saying she would be in the kitchen and pointing to the door of what must be Yeonjun's room and telling you to rest.
But despite all the assurances from both Yeonjun and his mother, you couldn't rest, thinking about the photo in the hallway, just a few meters away.
Over the past three days, you've come to understand why your boyfriend loves his friends so much. They made you feel welcome among them, even with your initial shyness. They made you feel like you'd known them for years, and that slightly calmed your heart, but not enough.
You couldn't stop thinking about the girl in the photos, how she seemed to glow, how Yeonjun looked at her in the picture, as if she were the most precious angel in the world, proud to be with her. You found yourself staring at the photo in the hallway more times than you'd like to admit, all in the first two days, until the photo was gone, and you knew that Mrs. Choi had noticed.
Unlike what you expected of yourself, the disappearance of the photos containing the girl didn't calm your heart; you continued thinking about her, especially after you found her Instagram.
You weren't looking for it, no. You had managed to distract yourself until you'd had fun with the boys, and you even swapped social media accounts, but then you saw her. You found the photo on one of the boys' Instagram accounts, and there it was, the tag. One click and suddenly you had access to her account. Photos of herself, photos with Yeonjun's friends –because of course, she also needed to be part of the same circle of friends as your boyfriend–, photos with family, and you even managed to find a photo where she, accompanied by who you believe to be her mother, due to the resemblance between the two, were with Mrs. Choi.
If at 15 she looked like an angel, now she looks like a goddess. She still possesses the same glow, but now accompanied by sharp eyes, glossy lips and a body that makes you want to squeeze yourself into the biggest sweatshirt you could find. It was a group picture, but everyone seemed faded next to her.
The tightness in your chest was now accompanied by a slight anger. Anger at how everything seemed so perfect, so cliché. Anger at how she seemed so irritatingly perfect and kind and above all, anger at yourself, you looked for it and you knew you were already obsessed even before you had material for it. And above all the anger and jealousy, you felt inferior because she really did seem perfect for Yeonjun, how well the two of them fit each other.
You feel your eyes tearing up as you realize that if this were a novel, one of those you love to read, you'd be rooting for the male protagonist to end up with her.
That afternoon, you didn't want to go out with Yeonjun and his friends. You lied about having a headache and insisted he should go have fun without you, which he did, even though he was clearly reluctant.
As soon as the door closed behind him, you turned back to sabotaging yourself, spending the afternoon stalking Yunjin and her perfect life.
"We dated for a few months, we ended up confusing things because of hormones." He shrugged, throwing himself onto the bed beside you, burying his face in your chest. You let out a little laugh, stroking your boyfriend's hair.
You finally mustered up the courage and decided to ask your boyfriend about the girl tonight. After he insisted a lot for you to tell him what was going on in your head, because of course your boyfriend realized you weren't okay, he always notices, even the slightest discomfort on your face, as if he knows you like the back of his hand.
"You two were close?" You felt him shrug slightly.
"Kinda, she's also friends with the guys." You bit your lip in agreement, even knowing he couldn't see. “She naturally drifted away from us in mid-teens, nothing serious, just part of the growing-up process.” He lifted his head and stared at you as if he could read your thoughts.
"I was just curious." He still stared at you, he clearly knew there was more to it, but to your relief, he didn't comment.
He lifts slightly from your chest to be able to look you in the eye. Yeonjun approaches and starts giving you little kisses on your face, making you giggle. "You don't have to worry, you're the one I love." You smile broadly, feeling your cheeks heat up.
You lean in and place a shy kiss on the lips of the man above you. "Thank you."
“I tell you I love you and you don't say it back?" he says, pretending to be annoyed, but still smiling while kissing your face and neck, making you laugh because of the tickling.
“I love you, Choi Yeonjun” you say, looking deep into his eyes, and your heart flutters at the sparkle in your boyfriend's gaze. You had no doubt that he was telling the truth.
And for a moment, you manage to calm your heart.
You put the finishing touches on hair before stepping back to get a full-length look at yourself in the mirror. A soft sound of satisfaction escapes your throat, followed by a startled squeal as arms wrap around your waist.
"Jjunie!" You turn to your boyfriend with a pout, and he wastes no time stealing a quick peck.
"I'm sorry, I can't resist when I have the prettiest girl in the world in my arms." You feel your cheeks heat up and try to look away, but you can still see the smirk on his face. "Thinking about it, I don't know if I want all those people seeing you like this, so gorgeous and sexy. This should be a sight that only I can have.” He squeezes her waist possessively. “But at the same time, I'd like to brag about how pretty my girl is." You roll your eyes and slip out of his arms, trying to hide the blush that covers your cheeks and ears.
"Silly," you laugh, and he shrugs.
"Ready?" You nod. "Let's go then."
Yeonjun drives a few blocks until he stops in front of a relatively large house, Soobin's house. As you get out of the car, you take a deep breath, trying to gather courage, but your boyfriend gives you an encouraging smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Everything's fine, I’ll be with you the entire time.”
You smile, trying to project confidence, "I don't doubt that."
You enter the house, being greeted by a stifling heat emanating from the living room, which was packed in what seemed to be an improvised dance floor. You blink hard, trying to adjust to the change in the room's brightness. Yeonjun seems amused to see you out of your element.
"Hey, lovebirds!" You barely have time to process Beomgyu's voice before he throws himself on top of you both, a glass in hand, red lips and disheveled hair. You can imagine that, besides being tipsy, he's already found company for the party, and that thought makes you giggle. “I've been looking for you all night”.
“We just arrived here.” Yeonjun says, rolling his eyes and removing Beomgyu's limp arms from your shoulders.
“Yn!” He says excitedly, as if he'd just recognized you, making you laugh, "This is so weird! I didn't expect to see you and Yunjin in the same place!” You swallow hard and your smile falters, but you try your best to hide it. “You have to meet her! She'll love you!” Before you know it, Beomgyu grabs your arm and pulls you along, chattering nonstop. You try to break free, but Beomgyu doesn't seem to notice. You look back for Yeonjun and find him struggling to get through the dancing crowd to reach you.
The brown-haired man finally lets go of your arm when you both reach the outdoor area of the house, where there was a pool, some towels on the ground, outdoor chairs, and many drunk people. You don't have time to finish analyzing the place before your boyfriend's friend is already pulling you back towards one of the groups that were there. You freeze. When you and Beomgyu stop beside them, drawing the group's attention, you feel your blood run cold as you recognize the woman in the middle of them. Yunjin.
After so many hours seeing photos, stories, and videos of her, you came to think that you knew at least what she looked like well enough, that is, until you saw her in person. If you already thought she was beautiful before, now, seeing her in person, you even came to doubt your own eyes. With long, straight dark hair, milky skin, sharp eyes and a perfectly proportioned body that didn't appear to have an ounce of fat, she looked like a goddess. The kind of girl you would envy or be attracted to in another situation and scenario.
Yeonjun finally catches up to you, giving Beomgyu a light punch on the shoulder, scolding him for dragging you around, before turning to you, ignoring the others around him. That's enough to snap you out of your trance.
“Baby, are you alright?” You nod, smiling small.
“Yeah, it's okay, he just wanted to introduce me to your… friends” Yeonjun finally seemed to notice the others staring at the scene; half the group was distracted in some other conversation. Yunjin and the girl beside her watch the scene with friendly smiles.
“Heyy, nice to meet you! I'm Yunjin, a friend of the boys, what's your name?" Yunjin said, standing up to greet you with a surprisingly friendly voice, not that you expected her to treat you badly.
"H-hi, I'm Yn," you say shyly, with a forced smile.
“"It's so good to finally meet you, Soobin and Beomgyu can't stop talking about YJ's new girlfriend and how fun she is." You smile at her and she turns to Yeonjun with a disturbingly casual smile. "You should visit more often, your mom really misses you, you know?” Yeonjun sighs and the two embark on a quick conversation about how each other's parents were doing. You felt guilty and ashamed for feeling slightly jealous and uncomfortable during such an innocent and friendly conversation, where at no point did your boyfriend's ex cross any lines or did something that deserves your discomfort.
It doesn't take long for you to separate from the group and find a cozy place to settle down on a free sofa inside the house. Yeonjun wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck, thanking you for coming with him. You smile and kiss your boyfriend's cheek, your heart still heavy with guilt for the insecurity he didn't deserve to have to deal with.
For the next two hours, you were able to put your problems aside and enjoy yourself with your boyfriend. You danced a lot, he introduced you to some more friends, and you ended up going back to the couch, where you started a heated make-out session, paying little attention to those around, after a few drinks that Taehyun shared with you. Yeonjun breaks the kiss and you both stare at each other with bright eyes and swollen, glossy lips.
“I'm going to get a glass of water, I don't know what was in Tae's drink, but it's making you way too excited for my own good." You let out a little laugh, staring at the visible bulge in his pants and a teasing smile. You give him a light slap on the chest, trying to divert his attention from your blushing cheeks. “I'll be right back”.
You nod and watch your boyfriend get up. You take the opportunity to go to the bathroom, remove the smudged lipstick, and touch it up. You smile at yourself in the mirror and try to forget all the thoughts that have been in your head for days and focus only on the good time you're having with your boyfriend.
To your surprise, when you leave the bathroom and return to where you and your boyfriend were sitting, you find him –two cups of water in his hand, as promised, but with Yunjin standing near him. They both seemed engrossed in a conversation as they laughed at something.
Even though deep down you know that you weren't being rational, the combination of days of self-sabotage and the alcohol in your system clouded your vision, preventing you from seeing that it was an obviously innocent conversation –they weren't committing a sin, much less was he cheating on you by talking to his friend (who happens to be his ex), but in your twisted mind, that innocent conversation was enough for your boyfriend to realize how much better Yunjin would be for him, and that he didn't need you, someone insecure and jealous, by his side.
You feel the first tears welling up, and perhaps the feeling of humiliation, for being so foolish and insecure, is what made you quicken your pace towards the exit, bumping into people, eyes filled with tears. A sob escapes you as you bump particularly hard on someone's back, the person knows your name, but you don't bother to check who it is before whimpering apologies and hurrying out the door.
It only takes you five minutes to realize the stupid thing you'd done, because now it was raining, you were far from Soobin’s house –and consequently, from your boyfriend, without your phone(which had been left in the bag Yeonjun was carrying) and in a city where you knew nothing and no one, besides being slightly drunk. If you were already crying before, now you were sobbing, and again, it was all your fault.
A car pulls up beside you, and for a moment you think you're going to die like that, in a different city, after fleeing a party because of the most senseless jealousy and without having the chance to apologize to your boyfriend, who was always so perfect, for being so insecure when all he does is reassure you. You hear the car door open and try to quicken your pace to escape whoever is after you, only to be stopped by arms gripping your waist. You try to struggle and escape your captor's embrace, but your body automatically relaxes when you recognize the scent of your boyfriend's cologne. When he looked at him, he seemed to say something, but you can't hear it due to the combination of the rain sound and your own sobs. Yeonjun sighs, clearly frustrated, and guides you to the car, placing you in the passenger seat and taking off his own jacket, covering you with it. The act makes you whimper even more, not feeling worthy of his care.
The road to Yeonjun's parents' house is filled with an uncomfortable silence. You say nothing, ashamed of your actions, and you don't judge him for not trying to start a conversation either. He was visibly upset, his shoulders tense, and not a trace of the smile he'd sported at the party, but even more attractive in his sheer white shirt and with his hair wet from the rain.
When you arrive at the house, Yeonjun tells you to take a shower and put on dry clothes, then heads to the kitchen. The house was empty; maybe his parents went out tonight.
You take your shower (with a brief pause to cry a little more, now for having upset your lovely boyfriend and ruined his night), put on one of your boyfriend's loosen shirts that you brought to wear as pajamas and dry your hair. You leave the bathroom and find Yeonjun already sitting on the bed. His hair is still wet, now for a shower that you assume he took in his parents' bedroom.
You sit beside him on the bed, head down, like a child ashamed of their actions. No one speaks for a moment, and unable to bear it any longer, you are the first to break the silence.
“How did you know I'd left?" he lets out a slight, almost acidic snort.
“You disappeared for more than ten minutes, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't go looking for you? Besides, you bumped into Kai on the way out, he came to tell me that he saw you leaving and you seemed to be crying” You nod in agreement."Why did you leave like that? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You barely know anything here, and I had your purse, your phone, and your documents.”
“I'm so sorry, Jjunie." You begin, already feeling your eyes burning with tears again. “I know you haven't given me any reason to be like this, but I saw you with Yunjin, you two seem so… perfect together. I've been having these thoughts for days now, and I know I shouldn't, but meeting her today was my breaking point. I wish she hadn't been so nice to me, so I could hate her for making me feel like this, but she's so beautiful, and kind! And then all I could think about was how alike you two are, and how she must have been your first in everything, how your mother loves her, and how she's probably slept on my side of your bed and..” You can't finish and start crying again. "And the worst part is how you don't deserve any of this. You've been telling me you love me the whole time, and you haven't given me any reason to feel this way... I simply don't deserve you.”
“Quit this nonsense!" He pulls you into his arms and sighs. “I honestly don't know what else to do to calm down that self-destructive little mind of yours.” You pout, lowering your head. A few seconds later, he lifts your head up by your chin. “But maybe I have an idea." You stare at him curiously for a moment before he takes your lips in a kiss.
The kiss isn't quick and desperate like the ones you shared on Soobin's sofa; on the contrary, it's slow and intense. Yeonjun's tongue is almost rough, entering your mouth and exploring it. He sucks on your tongue and you can't help but let out a little moan. You feel his smirk against your mouth. Yeonjun gently lifts you, laying you down on his bed. His body hovers over yours for a moment before he kisses you again, savoring your lips.
“If you can believe that you’re the only one for me, I’ll have to show you.”
His hands roam over your body, reaching the hem of your dress, and he smiles contentedly, leaning close to your ear. "I've wanted to do this all night," he confides in a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. He notices and lets out a chuckle before placing a kiss on your neck, lingering there for a moment before his lips travel down your covered body, squeezing and sighing as he passes your breasts. He stops between your legs, smiling as he feels you tremble at so little. "I barely touched you and you already look ruined."
You groan in embarrassment and try to close your legs, but he barely has to make an effort to reopen them. He smiles and wet his lips, staring at your clothed core. You let out a frustrated moan as he ignores the place where you need him most and moves further down your body, getting off the bed to kneel. He holds your ankles in his hands and smiles, leaning in to plant kisses on your feet. You giggle and feel his smile on your skin before he moves his kisses up to your ankles and calves.
"What are you doing?" You laugh because of the tickling.
"Me? Worshipping my girlfriend," he says with a big grin, and you feel your cheeks flush.
He continues filling your skin with kisses, and you feel your breath catch as he begins to make out with the inner part of your thighs, you groan in frustration as he again changes course, moving away from your aching core. He firmly holds your thighs, kissing close to the hem of your dress, kissing your skin as he moves up the dress, exposing more of your skin. He lets out a grunt as he finishes pulling your clothes up to your waist, exposing from your hips down. He pulls back slightly to observe, and you feel shy, yet even wetter under your boyfriend's intense gaze, his lips swollen and wet from kissing every inch of your face, his breath ragged, his eyes dilated as if he were high, even though you know he hasn't been near alcohol or drugs. He looks feral.
"I don't understand how you can have any doubt that you're the only one I want. Look what you do to me." He wets his lips, grinding his clothed cock against your core. You moan with the friction.
"Jjun, please," you whimper, trying to seek more contact, letting out a soft sob as he pulls away. "I need you."
"And I need you too," he says through heavy breathing. "But first I need you to understand that."
He adjusts his posture, taking off his shirt, and it's your turn to kiss his lips in desire. Yeonjun smiles; he definitely knows what he does to you. He approaches and removes the rest of your dress, leaving you only in your panties, since you weren't wearing a bra. He bites his lip, staring at your body, and runs his hands through your messy hair. The sight is so tempting that you can't resist, pulling him by the hem of his pants so he comes closer and you can kiss him again.
This time the kiss is wet and hungry, both of you moaning and groaning between kisses as he grinds against you and one of his hands roams the sides of your body, squeezing and claiming. You moan between kisses, and he takes advantage of the break in contact to lower his lips to your ear, then to your neck where he leaves kisses, bites, and hickeys, marking your skin. He then begins to play with your breasts, biting, licking, and swirling the areola with his tongue while his hand occupies the other breast. By this point, you're already a mess of moans, whimpers, and tears, and he smiles at your ruined image.
"Look at you, I barely touched you and I already made you cry." You let out something between a meow and a whimper, feeling exposed. He seems to like it because one of his hands slides down to your covered pussy, lightly groping, making you let out more of those sounds, and he swallows them with a kiss. When you run out of breath, he pulls away, returning to his position between your legs. You whimper in anticipation, and he smiles, placing a light kiss on the fabric.
"Jjunie, please stop teasing me, I can't take it anymore, I need you so bad." He smiles and finally removes your ruined panties, his smile even wider and more arrogant as he sees how your slick continues to connect your pussy to your panties. You don't have time to feel embarrassed; the next second he has his mouth on your cunt, making out with it and letting out grunts as if he were feasting on it.
"Fuck, you're so perfect, so ready for me." All you can do in response is moan and grab your boyfriend's hair, crying out loud as he fucks your entrance with his tongue, his nose rubbing against your throbbing clitoris. Your moans and whimpers echo through the room, and if you weren't already fucked dumb at this point, you'd thank the heavens Yeonjun's parents weren't home. “You taste so fucking good” He groans.
He inserts two fingers at once, and you squirm, forcing Yeonjun to hold you in place with his own weight to prevent you from hurting yourself—a surprisingly gentle action, in contrast to the force and speed with which he was fingering you and sucking on your clitoris.
Your boyfriend's free hand squeezes your thigh, and even with your eyes wet with tears of pleasure, you can see him rubbing against the sheets, trying to find some release. The divine sight of his flexed back, his face buried between your thighs, looking intoxicated with your taste was too much for you. You come screaming Yeonjun's name, seeing stars, and for a moment you think you're going to faint.
Yeonjun swallows your fluids, and you begin to writhe in overstimulation. He moves away from your center and laughs as he watches you try to hide your face with your hands.
"Don't hide, Angel. Look at me closely, look at what only you can do to me." He takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to his bulge. You timidly feel it through his pants, and he lets out a grunt. You can't see it yet, but you can imagine how much he must be suffering. "Do you think I want anyone else when you do this to me?" He pulls down his pants, making his erection even more evident, with the precum stain showing through his dark underwear.
"Do you think I can think of anything else when I have the most beautiful woman in the world beneath me, moaning my name so beautifully?" He seems slightly irritated by the possibility of you doubting him. "Look at me, my heart throbbing for you at the same level as my cock." You can't hold back the soft laugh that escapes your lips. "You have no idea how much I love your laugh, your body, your whole self." Your heart pounds and your eyes fill with tears of guilt for doubting him when your boyfriend clearly loved you deeply.
"I'm sorry, Jjun." He leans in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You look back at his erection and he smiles mischievously.
"You can touch it, baby, it's all yours." You bite your lip and begin to caress it through his underwear. Yeonjun lets out a hoarse groan and buries his face in your neck, which gives you more confidence to touch him better. You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and, with his help, pull them down, making his hard, heavy, and wet cock press against his stomach.
It wasn't the first time you'd seen your boyfriend's cock, much less the first time you two have sex, but you always managed to be surprised by it. It's thick and relatively big. Every time you doubted it would fit inside you. Spoiler: it always fits. You feel him laugh against your neck, seemingly reading your thoughts, and you squeeze his dick in your hand, making him groan. You start masturbating him as best you can in the position you're in, but it doesn't take long for your hand to become insufficient, him thrusting against it.
"Baby- urg, you're driving me crazy, I need to be inside you." You smile, Yeonjun positions himself and pumps his cock a few times, brushing the head of his member against your entrance, making you whimper in anticipation. Your boyfriend groans and slowly begins to enter your tight cunt, making you both moan and you seek support on his shoulders. Nails digging into the skin of the brunette's shoulders, your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, already pussy drunk.
"You always squeeze me so tight... ah" He moaned. "Trying to push me away, but as soon as I enter... Takes me so fucking well" You whimper, already fucked dumb on his cock. He finishes entering, the head of his dick caressing your womb. "Pussy so perfect, made for me."
You both wrap yourself in a sloppy kiss, his hips starting to move, the sensation exhilarating, hands squeezing every bit of skin they find. You know he's still saying something, but your foggy mind can only focus on the precise, deep, and wet thrusts.
Yeonjun marks your neck with his lips and you scream, now hoarse, voiceless, when he lifts one of your legs and finally hits your g-spot. He smirks and focuses on hitting that spot again and again.
He's roughly hitting your gummy walls, pounding hard. He groans in your ear and you squeeze him even tighter, both of you on the verge of collapse. "Shit, so fucking tight!" he groans.
You feel the knot starting to form in your stomach. "Jjunie," you cry. He smirks.
"I know, baby, let it go." he says breathlessly, sliding one hand down to circle your clit, while the other remains firmly gripping and squeezing your thigh. "Cum for me, Angel." It's enough to make you collapse. Back arching, nails digging even deeper into your boyfriend's skin, mouth open but no sound escaping. It's as hard as a punch, you feel yourself trembling. "Fuck, baby. You're squeezing me so hard, you could rip my dick off," he groans, still circling your clit with his hand, prolonging your orgasm.
Yeonjun thrusts a few more times before filling your womb with his semen, you both moan in unison as your boyfriend fills you up with his thick, hot cum.
"So full, Jjunie." you whimper, and he practically growls, staring intently at your sore cunt dripping from both of your releases.
"Look at that, look how she swallowed it all." He seems in a trance, intoxicated by the sensation, fucking his cum back inside you. "This will keep you full for days. So full of my seed, you might get pregnant." He grunts, seeming satisfied with the thought. "Damn, you'd look so beautiful carrying our child."
You barely have the strength to respond or feel embarrassed. Your boyfriend withdraws from inside you, his eyes still fixed between your legs, seemingly bewitched by the sight. He wets his lips, collecting the cum that escapes and thrusting it back inside you. You whimper with the hypersensitivity, and that seems to snap him out of his trance.
"I'm sorry, Angel. Did I hurt you?" He looks worried and you smile.
"No. I'll probably have a little trouble walking tomorrow, and I think my neck is going to be in a terrible state, but I'm not going to complain, I loved every second." You laugh and he smiles back, leaning in to brush a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead and place a kiss on it. He stands and picks you up bridal style taking you to the bathroom. You sigh quietly, satisfied, but your thoughts are racing.
He takes you under the shower and you whine, letting your boyfriend wash you while planting kisses on your face. When you're back in the room, clean and dressed —courtesy of Yeonjun who did all the work of washing you, dressing you, and changing the sheets, you enjoy the caresses in your hair, lying on your boyfriend's chest.
"Jjun?" You ask and he makes a sound showing that he's listening. "I promise I'll never doubt you, I believe in you and trust you." You feel his smile against your hair.
"And all it took was for me to fuck you dumb and promise to put a child on you." You slap his chest and he laughs, pulling you closer.
"You say a lot of nonsense in bed," you say shyly, and he pulls back slightly to look you deep in the eyes.
"You know I mean it, right?" he says seriously, and you widen your eyes. "Not now, we have to finish our studies and find a job and a place to live, but I'll still put a child on you and give you my surname." You widen your eyes. "If you want, obviously," he adds quickly, and you laugh, unable to contain your emotions.
"Not now, but okay, one day, I'll let you put a ring on my finger," you tease, trying to hold back your tears.
"What about the child?" He pouts, but you know he's joking.
"We can see about that later." You laugh and he leans in, planting kisses on your face. "I love you. Thank you so much for having me."
"I love you, and I'm yours, only yours.” He says kissing the top of your head. “By the way, "That girl with Yunjin at the party is her girlfriend. That's what she was telling me back then, when you ran away.”
“What?”
special thanks to my beloved emme ( @tyunningism ) for encouraging me to return to writing even when I thought I couldn't anymore, I would like to dedicate this work to you. luv u <3333
In which, Bsf!Kai couldn’t bear the teasing and sexual tension between him and his best friend, leading him to the point where he has a wet dream about her!
ׂ╰┈➤ In other words . . . Kai having a wet dream about his best friend . . . MDNI
𑣲⋆.˚ warnings! and mentions! NSFW, fem!reader, bsf!Kai, wet dream, smut, sub!kai, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap the willy), p in v, slight over stimulation, unestablished relation-ship, riding, not proofread! lmk if i missed anything!!
Amira’s note! my first fic!!! after some encouragement I decided to post this, i hope you like it!!! and please lmk if you want to be added into my tag list 🫶🏽
⌗ word count - 1368
The tension started as light shoves, a little teasing here and there. You were doing simply for the fun of it.
Knowing he’d blush like a tomato immediately after giving him the slightest compliment, knowing how easy it was to make him flustered.
“You look cute today, who are you trying to impress?” You say lightly, not knowing the much deeper effect you had on him other than a slight blush.
Kai would never admit it but he definitely has a crush on you. To everyone else it was clear as day,
His friends Yeonjun and Soobin would tease him saying stuff like ‘dude you’re drooling’ when ever he stares at you, or ‘someone’s got a crush~’ dragging out the word to annoy him even more.
You’d have to be dumb as a rock to not know his feelings for you but you were simply oblivious.
Then it turned into a game. Instead of Kai getting shy and sheepish, his face would be plastered with competition.
Soon your best friend would be giving you compliments back, seeing you all flustered made Kai have a certain look on his face. As if he’d accomplished his only task for the day.
‘Ya know, you’re so beautiful?’ he would say occasionally, causing you to roll your eyes even though your cheeks started to feel hotter and your ears started to burn up.
So with that being said, he couldn’t entirely say that the sex dream he had about you was completely your fault, him also adding along only making you try and make me even more shy.
ᝰ.ᐟ
Kai laying down in his bed, his fluff white covers like clouds on his waist as he’s sat shirtless in his room.
You walk into his room, only left with his over sized shirt and shorts that you dare to walk around your shared apartment with him.
The ones that make his pants tighten to the slightest bit, the ones you know fluster him.
“Kai..” you say. Your voice low and glazed with lust. you’re eyes darken deeper than they have when you see him shirtless, his back laid up against the head board.
He responds before even looking up from his phone, “yes?” once he finally looked up his eyes slightly widen, he’s never seen you in this attire or state.
Your hair is a slight mess, like it’s been raked through many times out of nervousness. Your neck slightly red blooming up to your cheeks.
It was your friends birthday, that day and the whole night you were out partying drinking your life away.
You recently finally got home peeling off your clothes, sticky and stained from the sweaty men and woman at the party and the spilled drink you had accidentally spilled on yourself when laughing to hard with your friend, only laughing harder at it.
Your intoxicated brain hadn’t thought much when finding new clothes to wear, putting on what ever you saw first from the dryer, not knowing the affect it would put on your best friends brain.
You in Kai’s clothes was something he never knew he needed. your body getting swallowed by the band shirt you had found.
“We can’t keep pretending..” No.. you couldn’t be talking about that, “what are you talking about”
His face starting to turn into a dusty pink shade.
“You know exactly what i’m talking about baby,” Baby.. that impacted him more than it should’ve for you being his best friend.
“We can’t keep pretending we’re friends.. we both know we want this.” With that being said, you pull off your shirt and shorts, leaving you bare with nothing but a pair of pink panties and a black bra.
Kai gasps in disbelief, his dick painfully twitching in his pants.
And with slow and measured steps, leaving room for him to express if he’s uncomfortable with this. Seeing his not you carefully moved the comforter away from his lower body, pulling your legs over his hips, straddling him.
You lean in pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips. At first he was shocked, dazed that his best friend had just kissed him, then he kissed back.
After a bit of kissing you decide to take it to the next stage, slowly kissing down his jaw and behind his ear into his neck.
Kai let out a muffed whimper.. he couldn’t believe this.
You gently started rocking your hips against his hard on, him letting out wistful moans like music to your ears.
Kai started getting impatient, whining wanting more than you grinding your hips on him. So he moves his hands up and behind your back unbuckling your bra.
Your breast fall naturally and he lightly starts fondling them. you let out whimpers at the feeling light sucking less and less hard at the pleasure.
“Fuck..” kai curses, lightly lifting you up so he could pulls down his pants. His dick springs out, hard and leaking. he hadn’t even bothered to wear boxers.
You gave his cock a few pumps before sliding down onto it, stretching you out.
You both whimper at the new feeling. “Holy shit..” Kai curses out already stimulated by the feeling.
“S-slow down” he moans out already overwhelmed at your pussy tightening around him.
You grin as you slowly start to move your hips.
“Oh fuck, baby..” Kai looks down to your belly seeing an imprint of his dick sliding in and out of you. he reaches down pushing in on it making you moan out.
“Fuck!-“ you exclaim into his ear. He grins at your reaction, slightly boosting his ego knowing he’s making you feel good.
he could feel himself already getting close, a knot tying in his stomach.
“mhh~” he whines as if a way to tell you he’s over stimulated but you don’t listen, no. You go faster.
You feel your legs start to shake as you feel the familiar knot coiling up in your stomac.
“mmh, baby..” he whines out. “I-i’m gonna c-cum-“
right as he says that, he fills you up with his seed, shooting ropes of sweet cum up your sweet cunt “Fuck fuck fuck!” you curse out repeatedly, your legs shaking of ecstasy.
He immediately shoots up, finally waking up from his wonderland. His breath shaky and unsteady as his chest falls up and down.
He whines “for fucks sake” he says as he pulls up his covers seeing a giant wet spot on his pants. “ah shit.”
it was only a dream. All the feelings he practically confessed into the sex he had. it was just a dream.
ᝰ.ᐟ
As he walked over to the bathroom after getting a new pair of underwear, he spots you in the kitchen right across from him.
His legs still sore from the overly real simulation of a dream that had happened moments a go.
“Hey—“ you started, but he was already running over to the bathroom, afraid you’d see him with a wet spot over his lower body.
He lets out a breath before dropping his pants to clean up and change.
Getting out the bathroom, he sees you in the same spot.
“Hey,” you say softer than before, almost afraid you were going to scare him away again.
He nods towards you to embarrassed to look up at you, giving the fact that he was imaging his dick inside you a bit ago.
“We’re you okay? I heard you whimpering from outside your room, did you get hurt?” you ask cautiously worried for your roommate.
His face blooms to a crimson as he hears the words that you say, you heard him!? “Shit.” he says under his breath
“Hm?” you lean forward, and suddenly Kai is hyper aware of everything around him. The way your shirt slightly shows a bit of cleavage when leaning over, or how you weren’t wearing a bra based on the fact that he could see your hardened nipped through your shirt.
“N-Nothing, and um—yeah I’m fine, I was just uhm.. working out!” he says randomly, after thinking of things to say that could give off a whimpering sound of bliss. you nod lightly before going back to your phone as he goes to his room.
↬ in which Beomgyu was doing good. Cozy Corner was picking up on more and more costumers, he finally had time for himself, and everything was going according to his plan. Until a bad review appears on his feed—a terrible review about his café. He feels bad, immediately offering you free coffee to make up for your bad experience. That's when he realizes it's not the coffee that wasn't up to your taste but the service you had—his service—which only makes him want to impress you even more. What he doesn't expect is the series of events after your review that leads him to a state he never thought he'd be in again—completely and utterly obsessed with a girl.
↬ pairing café owner!beomgyu x fem!reader
↬ genre fluff, suggestive, smau + written text, crack, non idol, café au, strangers to ??, possibly maybe smut in the future
↬ status ongoing
↬ warnings sexual jokes, bad humor, ignore timestamps plspls, contains an oc called yuri, kys jokes, etc.
chapters
profiles — beomgyu's chat | yn's chat
01 — cozy corner
02 — caramel macchiato
03 — bad review
04 — enemies to lovers
05 — intak speaks to a girl (but does he?)
06 — soft spot for you
07 — liar liar pants on fire
08 — drink! drink! drink!
09 — morning after
10 — delusions
11 — coming soon
↪ izzy adds... oh gosh, my first smau... I'm excited but also a bit worried. Thankfully I have great friends on my side cheering me on otherwise I wouldn't be doing this. Shout out to the whole cozy corner, who also gave name to Beomgyu's café. Hopefully you'll enjoy this <3
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