vic🤍 @victoriasimm - Tumblr Blog

margin of error

pairing: jake sim x reader

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

wc: 60k (damn— i'm sorry)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that question makes you pause longer. you replay not the intensity but the quieter parts, the way he paused to look at you, the way he asked if you were sure, the way he didn’t push. you shake your head and answer “not really” that part is clear. you don’t regret it. you just don’t understand it. eunchae softens and asks “then what’s the problem.” you lean back in your chair and say slowly “the problem is that i don’t know what it means.” she shrugs lightly and says “maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.” you look at her sharply and say “that’s worse.” she blinks and asks “why?” you answer “because if it means nothing then it was just convenient.” you hate how that word feels in your mouth. “did it feel convenient?” eunchae asks. you think about the way your pulse spiked when he looked at you, the way your body reacted before your mind caught up, the way you didn’t want to stop. “no“ you admit. she leans forward and says “then it wasn’t.” you stare at your desk and add quietly “but he said we were drunk.” she points out “and you agreed.” you press your lips together because you did. you let that explanation settle because it was easier than dissecting the alternative. you think about the way you stepped back first, the way you said you should go, the way you didn’t text. “i don’t know“ you admit, and that is the honest answer. you don’t know what he is thinking and that is what unsettles you. the rest of the morning drifts by in a strange half focus. you answer messages and attend class and contribute to discussions. you don’t see him anywhere, not in the hallway and not across campus. the absence feels louder than his presence would have. you catch yourself glancing at your phone twice during lecture. there is nothing. no text. you don’t send one either. you tell yourself you are giving him space and being rational, but the truth is simpler. you don’t want to be the first one to act like it mattered. because what if he didn’t think it did. that thought lingers uncomfortably. you don’t regret it, but you don’t know if he does, and for the first time since the kiss that uncertainty bothers you more than the heat of it ever did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the days after that study session pass quietly. not dramatically. just… thinner. you don’t see him much, or maybe you do, but only in passing-across lecture halls, at the edge of the quad, through the reflection of library windows. you don’t sit next to him anymore. he doesn’t sit next to you either. no one comments on it, but everyone notices. the group chat stays active with memes, complaints, and scheduling. he replies normally, and so do you. you don’t text him privately. he doesn’t text you either. and that silence sits heavier than it should. you tell yourself it’s fine. you tell yourself it’s easier this way. you tell yourself you don’t miss the way he used to argue with you like it was a sport. you absolutely do. today, though, you don’t have the option of avoidance. you have to meet him. the project deadline is close enough that pretending doesn’t work anymore. you stare at the calendar reminder for a second longer than necessary before grabbing your bag. you don’t want to go, not because you’re scared, but because you don’t know which version of him you’re getting-the competitive one, the sharp one, the quiet one, or the one who was ready to fuck you like it wasn’t theory anymore. he’s already in the study room when you walk in. of course he is. laptop open, notes spread neatly, posture straight-controlled. he looks up when the door clicks shut, and your eyes meet for half a second before he nods and says, “hey.” you answer, “hi“ and take the seat across from him, not beside but across. the distance feels intentional even though neither of you comments on it. silence stretches while you open your laptop until he breaks it by saying evenly, “i reworked the introduction. it was too repetitive.” you nod and reply, “okay.” he turns his screen slightly so you can see, and you lean forward just enough to read it. it’s good-precise, structured, cold. “it’s cleaner“ you say, and he nods once and replies, “yeah.” that’s it. no teasing, no smug comment, no competitive spark-just agreement. you scroll through your section and say, “i clarified the model alignment.” he responds, “i saw.” you glance up and find he’s already looking at you, so you look back down as he adds, “good.” something about the word feels smaller than it should. you both work in silence for a few minutes, the clicking of keyboards louder than usual. at some point, you say, “we should probably tighten the transition here“ and he doesn’t argue but just nods and says, “yeah.” you blink, almost missing the way he used to challenge everything you said, almost missing the way you’d argue back without hesitation. now everything feels careful, measured, like you’re both avoiding stepping on something fragile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then you hear something else, quiet and under his breath, almost to himself, “if we frame it as variance, it’s cleaner.” jake murmurs without looking up. the words land like a small confession even though they are about nothing. you keep your eyes on your screen but your throat tightens because he is rehearsing beside you and it is proof he is nervous even if his face refuses to show it. he taps his notes again, straightening them like the paper might anchor him. you realize you have been bouncing your knee and force it still. stillness feels like control. you can do control. you can do contained. you glance up at the front of the room where the professor is setting up the schedule, students flipping through notes, someone whispering and laughing quietly. the normalcy makes your stomach roll faintly. jake reaches into his bag and pulls out a second set of printed pages, lays them on top of the first stack with deliberate care, lines them up again, edges perfectly aligned, turns the remote over in his hand, and sets it down exactly parallel to the laptop. he is organizing his environment like it can organize his head. you have seen him do that before during finals week. you have seen him do it when he is stressed. you did not realize how familiar the sight would feel. you close your laptop halfway and open it again, regretting the motion because it feels like you are copying him, then type an irrelevant placeholder line into the notes section just to give your fingers direction. jake glances at the clock, the second hand ticking, then back at the slides, lips pressing together then relaxing, fingers flexing once like he is shaking tension out of them. you wonder if he slept and hate that you wonder, hate that you care. you stare at the blank notes line until it blurs, blink and refocus, rub your thumb against your index finger under the desk in a tiny grounding motion. jake shifts in his chair, hoodie fabric dragging softly against plastic, leans closer to his laptop, shoulders tightening, scrolls to the slide where your section begins, cursor hovering over it before moving away, then clicks to the intro again. he is checking it twice, again, like he does not trust it or himself. the thought softens something in you for half a second before you crush it down. you look at his hands, short clean nails, a faint red mark on one knuckle, fingers tapping the edge of the paper once before stopping again. he is not shaking, not visibly anxious, just too still, too precise, too prepared. it looks like discipline. it feels like fear. you do not say that out loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

heedimples

JAKE.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

ʚɞ summary - jake’s been your best friend for years—of course you always knew he was attractive, but you never imagined he’d be a virgin. but now that he’s admitted it, you can’t resist showing him exactly what he’s been missing out on... ʚɞ tags - 18+ MDNI, f!reader, jake & reader are best friends, experienced!reader, inexperienced/virgin!jake, sub!jake, pussydrunk!jake, first time, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f. receiving) ʚɞ w.c - 5.5k

synergy27

Me at 13: “god I can’t wait to go home and read fanfic”

Me at 17: “god I can’t wait to go home and read fanfic”

Me at 21: “god I can’t wait to go home and read fanfic”

showgirlshawn

Me at 35: “god I can’t wait to go home and read fanfic”

avenger-nerd-mom

Me at 51: "god I can't wait to go home and read fanfic"

victoriasimm

Me at 86: “god before you take me, let me read one more fanfic”

arelyvn

THE BET - SJY ── .✦

Jake sim, one of the most popular boys in school makes it his goal to have you fall for him, a simple bet with his friends. Little does he know, he’ll be the one falling to his knees for you

sim jaeyun x fem!reader

content warnings: smut, angst, inexperienced reader x experienced jake, pussy drunk jake, pussy eating, fingering, dry humping, multiple makeout scenes, mutual masterbation, unprotected sex, cream pie, mentions of bullying & alcohol, jake is a massive giver, and a simp (begging), hyung line mentioned, porn with a plot..let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 16.8k

keulrs

SLEEP TIGHT ✶ 𝗌𝗃𝗒

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍．

𝓲𝟔𝟖𝟕──────✿ bsf!jake x f!rea ◜ ‿ ◝⁠ fluff comfort pet names skinship

reblog>ᯅ<kisses

best friends, that’s all there was to it. you and jake have been close for almost years now, basically seeing each other grow out of every weird phase and every relationship.

jake would be lying if he said he didn’t have any feelings for you. for a while now. but being the person he is, he was scared to even say anything. being afraid of one wrong move ruining everything between you two. but tonight… tonight was when it all shifted.

a sleepover, jake invited you over. since it’s been a while since the two of you actually caught up with each other after finals season. ‘a quiet night, ‘just the two of us, no distractions’. was what jake insisted before you agreed. so here you were. lying down on his couch while he was sleeping in his bedroom just a few steps away from where you were. you were peacefully sleeping after a long spiderman movie marathon, which was completely his idea. since it’s was his top hyper fixation when he was little. and obviously still was.

everything was going good, you were comfortable, the lights were dim enough, the temperature around you made it perfect for you to get a good night's rest. but that wasn’t until you were startled. waking up with beads of sweat running down your back, while panting frantically. a nightmare hit you. some old trauma you had. probably coming back after discussing it with jake after such a long time. you shouldn’t have, but everything just comes out when it comes to being around him.

your first instinct was to walk your way to his room, slowly opening it so you wouldn’t startle him. to your surprise, he was awake. scrolling on his phone, oblivious to your inner anxieties and worry. he looked up from his phone, eyebrows stitched with concern. “y/n? what’s wrong pretty?”

stupid pet name, he’s had that for you since forever. always finding a way to calm you down in such situations like these. “I’m—.. I had a nightmare, about what we were talking about earlier.” you said, almost ashamed of it. thinking it was a childish thing to even bring up. he frowned, putting his phone on his nightstand while scooting to the side of his bed. almost like he was making room for you to lay besides him. “you wanna talk about it? if you want to of course.”

he was so understanding, even if it was so late to even process anything. your throat bobbed, stepping closer to his bed. inches away from the wooden frame surrounding it. “no, it’s just—..”

“y/n.. baby come and lay with me. I’m here.” he cooed, eyes full of a familiar warmth, and something else… that you were too scared to admit. you gave in, slowly sitting down and carefully laying your back down while the bed quietly creaked under your weight.

you laid your head back on the soft pillow, maintaining a distance between you and him. not wanting to cross any boundaries. “sorry for bothering you like this, I just didn’t wanna be alone after that.” saying apologetically. he scooted closer, propping himself on his elbow while he looked at you with his now tired eyes and his fluffy brown hair. “don’t apologize, it’s all silent here yeah? nothing's gonna happen.”

you hesitated before scooting closer to him. you couldn’t even stop yourself, your body almost moving on its own as you tucked your head under his chin. seeking his warmth in his cold and dark room.

he let you lean on him, his hand coming up to give your hair light strokes as his other came up to wrap around your waist. you two were full-on cuddling now. and you didn’t even mind it by one bit. jake hummed some unknown melody, almost like a lullaby. attempting to put you to sleep. you closed your eyes, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. his scent is prominent of citrus and laundry detergent.

you could feel him chuckle slightly against your cheek, his fingers continuing to rub on your scalp “sleep tight.. I’m right here.”

a/n I popped some lyrics from the song in there.. if we can’t already tell hehe

🏷️ @goatedwiththesaucedotcom @meeoowchi @yooniso @vprslzt ◝ join my perm taglist?

lolliloopsy

DINNER SERVED .ᐣ.ᐟ

➤ COMING STRAIGHT FROM THE OVEN IS A PLATE OF HOT PUSSY .ᐟ

what happens if you’re sprawled out on your boyfriend’s bed, naked and blindfolded, turned into a complete mess as you were left alone, forced to suppress the pleasure. finally, the door clicks open; you’re relieved but he was oddly quiet. why was your “boyfriend” so good at pleasing you?

pairing ✮⋆˙ parkjongseong x fem!reader warning ✮⋆˙ 18+, smut, mdni, dub-con!, pussy!eating, cheating (don't do this!), pussy!play, roommate'sbestfriend!jay, dom!jay, sub!reader, reader is roomie's gf, reader thinks jay is her bf word count ✮⋆˙ 3.4K lolli's notes ✮⋆˙ sighhh I love this man so much.....he's been bias wrecking me lately icl....i need help. NOT PROOFREAD!

the soft, timid guy who had a crush on his roommate's girlfriend. the stares that linger longer than they've should of, the moments where he noticed the small little habits you make, the way he stared at you like it was only you and him in the room and every little thing was faded into the background.

his body immediately flinch up in posture whenever he sees you, keeping himself composed around you, not realizing that his body was taut and clenched to the point where if he relaxed, he'd die of soreness.

he could get anyone he'd liked but he never did. he believed that you could only have one true love, a moment that never erases even if he tried to push it away.

he knew that this wasn't right but it was something that he couldn't brush away, although if he convinced himself he was in denial — the small part of him knows that his gut is telling him to the face the truth and accept the fact that he could only solve.

a habit he couldn't control, an urge he couldn't restrain.

jay stares at you like an angel soared through the sky and sent you as his one true love that he was destined to be with — perhaps in another lifetime.

☣︎

"hey man, i'm heading out to the store. do you want anything?" keys jingling towards the direction of the door, the sounds of shoes dragging against the carpeted floor as jay could feel the shadow moving around his peripherals.

"nah i'm good, thank you though." jay, sprawled on the couch; he doesn't take his eyes off the phone, instead, slightly tilting his head towards the direction but his eyes don't waver.

"alright, be back in a bit." the door swings open, a ray of sunshine gleams over his face for a quick second before the door swallows the light once again, leaving the room — dull and lifeless. the phone softly turns off, making him stare off into the distance. the scenery turns into nothing but a blurring background. clouding in his thoughts as time felt much slower than it was before. the living room was calm, still. the soft hum of the leaves rustling outside as the wind gushes through the air like a whisper echoing past his ears. he feels his eyes slowly losing their strength, dragging a soft pull of slumber to reel his drowsiness, getting heavier the more he tried to fight it until it fully consumed him.

resting on the cushy foam like he was wrapped into a warm hug as he sleeps perfectly still, mimicking a dead body. his chest rises and falls gently as his phone was rested on top of his body, the weight seemingly felt like it was non existent and forgotten.

☣︎

as the hour glides by like a breeze, his phone buzzed through his skin, causing him to jolt awake. eyes crusted shut, the gleam from the windowsill burns through his eyelids, making him squint as he forced himself to adjust to his vision. the heavy weight rested upon his chest swiftly slid off his chest, hitting the cushions and lands in between his legs — the clock had struck late afternoon and nothing seemed out of place. the room was still quiet as it was before; no creaks, no silhouettes trailing on the hardwood floors — it seemed like they weren't back yet.

jay rises up from the couch and heads to the bathroom but his eyes catches the door of his roommate's, cracked opened slightly with the lights faint, shadowy as the night. he strides towards the door, thinking they were here. "hey man what'd you—" he pauses mid sentence as he gently pushes the door open, only to reveal you:

fully naked on the bed; thighs gushing with your own juices while a blindfold was wrapped around your eyes with handcuffs locked tight onto your wrists as they were wrapped around the bed frame. and a tiny remote placed towards the edge located near the foot of the bed.

jay's eyes widen with terror — arousal or a feeling buried deep into his chest that couldn't be explained and he was about to leave until he hears you call out.

"b-babe?" you whimper as your thighs clench together as he hears a soft buzz, locating near you. he watches the way you bite on your bottom lip, revealing a flushed red hue that painted your lips from your arousal. "p-please it's too much!" you let out a guttural, breathy moan as jay watches your body twitches from hypersensitivity, back arching against the wrinkled sheets that spread across your body, blending with your disheveled state.

jay panics like a deer in headlights, his mouth parts but not a sound came out, only mimes his words he wanted to say but stopped himself before he could make a wrong move. he mutters a sequences of curses, face flushed with undeniable hunger, also nervousness swarming in his entire mind. his brain stops functioning as he trapped in a situation with you, unable to form words without his eyes deceiving him.

his mind was telling him to leave but his body wouldn't budge. the lump in his throat was frozen, even with how many times he tried to push it down — also with an aching boner peeking through his pants. he quietly observes you like a stalker; the way your body was perfectly pasted on the bed, your thighs instinctively clenching together has a grip on him that made him writhed with thirst as your moans erupt in the air like sweet lullabies. your juices glistening from where the buzzing sensation was stemming from, coating the inside of thighs like honey, dribbling down from your entrance, onto the bedsheets.

he strides toward you, heedful of his surroundings. he towers over your figure, encasing your body with his shadow. you could sense his presence, a breath of wind brushes against your skin. the shadow halts in place, swallowing over your body. "t-touch me please.." you bit the bottom flesh of your lips, turning pale white and glistening from the pressure.

he stands there like someone froze his feet to the ground. his eyes dart to the remote control inches away from where the bed ends, softly picking it up and silently observing the controls. caressing the button while his mind halts into a train of thoughts:

his thumbs brushes over the toggle, feeling the indents press into his skin: a plus and minus button engraved. he mindlessly increases the vibration, not knowing how strong the tremors were already. he watches the way you squirm, the way you tried to clench your thighs together even deeper, despite the feeling was too much for you to subside. your whispery breaths turned into squeals, the toy harshly tickling your gummy walls as you were started to get used to the pace.

jay feels his body jolt in pleasure, his clothes suddenly started to feel uncomfortable all over his skin. the room started feeling warm with the air suddenly became thick with tension. he places himself on the edge of the bed and leaves the remote on the bedside table, watching how your skin vibrates as the hiss of the vibrator gradually gets louder with every move he makes.

legs that were glued together, the structure of the unknown palm cups the side of your knee, carefully peeling off each other as your juices creates webs as your legs separate — losing their warmth. the sticky residue of your slick turned your skin cold as the wind brushes past you like a stream. your body flinches at the sudden contact, fingers icy while it drags along your skin. hitched moans escapes past your lips, completely sensitive to the touch. you felt the flesh of your skin turn warm as the heat of his palm presses flush against you.

jay's fingers slowly trace along the inside of your thighs, feeling the graze of his nail leaving a ticklish sensation, making your legs flinch and itching for the pleasure. your juices coat the tip of his finger, creating a stringy web connect from your skin to his.

as he cherishes your skin like glass, he was fighting the urge to take you right here on his roommate's bed but he contained himself, even when his impulses were on the verge of breaking.

jay knew that he was a patience man, composed, collected in a tense situations. never in his life, he questioned his loyalty; his commitments that he crossed his heart — "promise."

"promise." that left his lips like he knew in the back of his mind, he would never overturn the word into a betrayal. "you're the only person i know that would never betray me. you're my best friend dude." the type of feeling that makes one's face fall of guilt, watching as their features crumple into a huge smile that makes one put a mock-up even if their heart clenches in ache. those same words that left his roommates lips like he knew jay wouldn't even bare a thought of deceit and completely oblivious to jay's real feelings.

best friends know everything about each other. but do they express their true intentions? their true feelings? feeling scared of confessing the grudges we hold without feeling like the other would feel discouraged.

bottling up feelings that could possibly terminate a friendship that meant so much to one person but so little to the other.

maybe some feelings are better left unsaid.

desires that were meant to be fulfilled and never untouched.

was he ever a loyal man to begin with? or someone who was pretentious of their own morals cause they were scared to face the real truth, just to prove to himself that he was everything he portrayed himself to others even if he felt the quite the opposite.

jay knew the answer, just never had the guts to face it.

but one of his biggest fears had to get him some day and that day had to be now.

"s-stop teasing me…"you squirm under jay's touch, completely ignorant of the suspicious actions that you would've spotted a while ago but the vibrator was buzzing infinitely, too occupied to care. you hear a soft huff of the man's voice, clearly finding amusement at your desperation. yet, his soft strokes towards your skin, made you feel a flutter in your stomach. this touch you were feeling felt like you were being cherished, encapsulated with wanting to re-experience the emotion of being taken cared of and not being punished out of one's own enjoyment.

you felt seen, even with your vision being under the darkness.

but you don't know that the man before you is someone who's been lusting from afar.

he desires you like the air he breathes. treasures you like a rare gem that no one has ever seen but only heard myths. he views you as a siren that has only appeared once in a lifetime, a glimpse of unforgettable beauty that makes one dwell on the thought. he wondered what his roommate would look like if he caught his girlfriend and his best friend having sex on his bed. the thought haunted him but at the same time, it aroused him.

as wrong as that sounded, he didn't care. deep down, all he cared about was getting one taste of your body, although the thought itself was enough to make him cream in his pants.

he grazes your clit, your body responding by twitches, splashes of your juices paint his finger, watching the way your mouth softly parts and back arching as the sensation grows sharper the more he teased. your folds were warm, aching with desperation as your stomach stutters with every breath interrupted with every stroke he made, even if it was a small graze or a sense of being touched.

he could feel the vibration pulsing through your skin, swelling with soft beats until he dragged his index finger near your entrance where the source of the pleasure was. the added pressure made your body arch more intensely, your back curling against the bed while the pad of his fingers presses the toy deeper into your pussy, the only thing peeking out was the rope that was attached. your voice grows louder and strained when you feel the tightness of the toy reach places that weren't used to its shape.

he tries to compose himself, teeth finding their way to his bottom lip, biting hard that it leaves an imprint on his lips, making them red as blood. your toes clawed deep into the sheets, ruffling in between your soles while you tried to compose yourself but this was a battle you could not win.

you feel the heavy weight on the left side of the bed softly springs back into an even surface, feeling confused at the decision. you hear the heavy thuds against soft carpet that thumps with every step the mysterious figure took. you furrow your eyebrows, despite being blindfolded, you felt uneasy but not with discomfort — with anticipation.

as you were about to say something, you feel the bed weigh down but instead it was in front of you. where your legs were parted, your vulnerable position that makes you unfold quick. however you started to feel a slight breath of a wind brush against your torso as you feel the weight slowly dip down on both sides of your head. you feel a cold, metal surface touch your neck that makes your lips part, just as you feel a warm pair of lips grazing against yours.

the soft flesh of jay's lips gently touches, almost like a caress. he slightly tilts his head to gain access to your mouth, earning a small squeal from you. he slowly darts his tongue into your mouth, a wet patch of saliva mixes with yours. you softly moan into the kiss, each breath taken away by the soft tug of his control. the kiss was gentle, yet so dominating — it felt so different from what you were used to. a rough command, a kiss that felt like a point that needed to be proven instead of a kiss that expressed intimacy; a warmth for longing.

you never craved something so sweet until now, you felt small and submitted to the kiss, something you've never felt before. you feel his lips part from yours, your head slightly follow his, insinuating that you wanted more. your lips were swollen, plumped with an overdrive of pleasure. you bite your bottom lip, not wanting the after effect to leave.

you feel the cold, spiking sensation touch your skin once again as his lips were on your neck, leaving wet kisses of his brand on you, though you were already claimed by another man — a man who couldn't do his job right.

wet blotches of his lips trail lower: kissing the base of your neck with a mixture of bites that left subtle marks but would later fade as he neglected them to draw attentions to your unattended parts of your body. dragging down to your clavicle, putting all the attention to both sides, moving his lips to your shoulders, small squeaks fill the quiet room, making the sound even more lewd than it already was.

he stops at your chest, giving his full attention to your nipples, specifically your left nipple. his warm tongue licks the bud, making an angelic moan leave your lips. your sounds make something tick inside him, being more addicted to your body.

you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple, hardening with every lick as you squirm beneath him. you mold your lips into a line, trying your best to suppress your moans but the sensitivity was overpowering. your nipple was hardening against his mouth as he sucks your hard bud. his other hand was massaging your right breast, kneading it like bread — what a great multitasker. "f-fuck…t-too — mmph!" you squeal out, trying to form words but the pressure of his mouth on your breast started to interrupt your train of thought. he feels your body jerk against him, feeling satisfied at the reaction he was getting from you.

a slight "pop" echoes through the room as he's given your left nipple enough attention. he moves onto your right nipple, his tongue doing its magic as his other hand trails down your trembling body and lands right on your clit.

the cold hand grazes against it, earning a whimper to escape your lips. you feel the pad of his fingers, rotating in a circular motion with your slick dripping all over his hand. your legs clench around his body, shaking like jello as his mouth was adding more pleasure, overwhelming you to the bone.

the vibrator was the cherry on top. you felt numb at the numerous times you came but you've lost count. "b-babe what's with you tod-" you shriek as you feel his teeth tug on your nipple, head tilting back onto the pillow. he couldn't hear you. he was too focused on pleasuring you from all the pent up frustration that he endured for so long.

every night, jay could hear the bed frame hitting the wall to the point he thinks that one day, his roommate was going to break the bed — he was surprised he hasn't, despite every time he would invite you over, all he could hear was your moans as the bed frame was slamming at a rhythmic pace. he envied his roommate and he never hated him more than he does now.

he stops worshiping your right nipple and starts kissing your body again. pampering your stomach while you squirm at the ticklish feeling until you feel a hot breath hovering of your clit. his hands cup onto your thighs, hugging them like they were his life support — well — he might need it.

you might not be able to see but you could feel the tip of his tongue making slight contact with your clit as his breath became hotter against you. his breaths became shallow, almost like a dog panting while the sight in front of him was making him salivate. he licks a stripe, making you jolt with sensitivity. he lets out a low chuckle as you continued to squirm away from his touch. his grip tightens around your thighs, continuing giving your pussy lips kitten licks that left a ticklish outcome. the vibrator was still buzzing like there was no end, sending shock waves to flow through your nerves, almost like you were vibrating with overstimulation.

his tongue moves expertly around the shape of your pussy as his thighs were trembling violently, making impossible to sit still. your breathing starts to pick up, your chest falling up and down that was smoothly pace at first, but soon became struggling to find your breathing pattern. every control in your body became weaker the more you felt jay's tongue abused your pussy to no end. the pressure was too much, you found yourself struggling to break free from the handcuffs, wanting to feel something — anything that would hold you still, make the feeling less intense but even you knew that would be completely useless.

"h-holy shit — f-fuck!." you yell out, feeling the muscles under you skin beginning to feel taut as his fingers were seeping into your skin as his aggression becomes more fierce with every slow lick that would edge you until you fully broke. his control was grounded — precise like he's practiced for this moment. if you weren't complete enamored to the pleasure, you would question why your "boyfriend" seemed different and less careless but with the way he had you anchored beneath him, it made your train of thoughts come to a halt.

"i-i'm g—ge—getting c-close…pl-please." your voice shifts into a softer tone, your thighs squeeze in between his head but he doesn't slow down, instead his flicks become more faster and faster, tongue swirling against your folds, making your voice become louder — you're sure that jay could hear you even though he was the one making you feel good.

"sh-shit babe, i'm gonna!" you yell out.

"JAYYY??? I'M BACKKK!! I GOT YOU SOME-" shit.

jay's eyes widen and heart starts to pound in his chest profusely. "fuckfuckfuck…" jay quietly mutters against you. he hears you, quietly say his name in a confused tone. "jay?" before you could even say another word, he immediately leeches off of you and runs into his room, not looking back at you.

once he arrived at his room, he closes the door shut. his back hitting against the doorframe, leaning his head against the wall.

"shit he's gonna kill me." he quietly retorts to himself.

lolli's notes ✮⋆˙ HEH. BYE GUYSSSS! HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!!

lolli: you've completed the objective! what's your plan now?

☐ navigation ☐ masterlist

hoonkitti

♡ your ultimate guide to A+ special edition: “do you have a crush on someone, but they’re taken?” ─ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

your ultimate guide to A+ (without the effort!) ~ a totally not suspicious tutorial by yn ♡ a soft, step-by-step guide to becoming the girlfriend of your bestfriend's boyfriend (special edition!)

𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 you're my boyfriend, you're my boyfriend. i'm reborn after meeting you. i'm sorry but i took him from you, i love it. i'm your–i'm your–i'm your other girlfriend, between you and me, shh it's a secret. ─ my friend's boyfriend, DIA ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱

𓆩♡𓆪 ... hello ... first of all, i am so so sorry my writing is so shit, i haven't been in the right state of mind and honestly was so close to stop writing & leaving tumblr but it was just my moment of vulnerability... i'm so sorry for the unanswered texts and asks! i promise i will get back to it asap... ^3^ i wanted to try something new @ format with this fic, so i hope you guys see my vision! this will most likely be a non-committed series! it's cute, isn't it? <3 might rewrite but lmk what you think!!

word count 4.5k warning advisory infidelity, cheating (emotional + physical), manipulation, pursuing someone taken, yn is an asshole, loss of friendship, morally gray characters, yn has no remorse at all, friendship betrayal, non proofread!

♡ your ultimate guide to A+ (without the effort!) ~ a totally not suspicious tutorial by yn ♡

q: yn! i like this boy, but he’s my bestfriend’s boyfriend :( he’s so hot and kind and i just don’t think that she should be with him! he obviously deserves so much better but i don’t know how to tell, or show it to him! what should i do?

special edition: “do you have a crush on someone, but they’re taken?”

jaysbaefie

clueless | sjy

synopsis: in which your best friend finally stops pretending, and one confession ruins your oblivious friendship for good.

genre: best friends au

pairing: best friend!jake x oblivious!reader

warnings: jealous!jake, possessive!jake, touchy!jake, hard dom!jake, dub-con-ish, jake is strong, manhandling, groping, messy makeout, biting, tit play, oral (f.rec), spanking pussy + tits + ass, face slap, clit play, fingering, masterbation (m.), cock slapping? he cums on readers face, light bondage, unprotected p in v, creampie, some cuteness at the end to tie it all together!!

wc: 11.7k+

starryjake

chemistry pt. 2 | s.j

in which you deal with the aftermath of sleeping with your best friends ex boyfriend. read part one here!

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

warnings: semi-public sex, hickeys, dry humping, f receiving oral sex, face sitting, unprotected sex, choking, finger sucking, cumming inside, drinking, everyone is toxic!

wc: around 6k. NO TAGLIST sorry.

mia — 7:19 p.m.

y/nnnnn

do you wanna go out tn?

answer my texts already it’s been days…

she was right. it had been days since you’d responded to her messages. you couldn’t do it. you felt awful.

you slept with jake—your best friend’s ex boyfriend. you didn’t know how you would ever be able to face her again, and the same went for jake, who you hadn’t seen since that night.

but it was sunday night, and you had to see him at class tomorrow morning, which you were already dreading. what were you supposed to say to him?

sweethoons

government hooker - park sunghoon

: bodyguard!박성훈 x 𝒇!reader .

[ you thought being a famous model meant you could do whatever you wanted . . . until your new bodyguard park sunghoon decided to be the one to finally tame you !]

WRITING 𓈒 PWP , MINOR DNI , switch hoon , miscommunication , p in v , no protection (dont b silly wrap ur willy!!) , masturbation (f) , oral (f) , foot humping... (hoon..) , knee humping (if u squint) , outdoor sex , LOTS OF JEALOUSY!!!!! , petname : doll , princess , baby , good girl , good doll , good boy , make up sex , hoon lowk turned into a pup by the end , riding , cumming inside , squirting , slight angst , sunghoon turns VERY submissive , hickeys , brusing , sorry heeseung </3 𓏵 wc: 13.3k

a/n . . SET IN HONG KONG. this is my 1.5k followers treat!!!! pls pls PLS enjoy ^^ i worked hard on this </3 this is NOT proof read , m sorry for any mistakes

jakeyswifeblog

hi can u write jake teasing y/n all day, hands groping her tits first thing in the morning, nuzzling and kissing and biting her neck while shes making breakfast, fingers circling her clit through her panties in the car. hes getting you all riles up until its night and youre begging please for him to just make you come and he happily obliges

i made a few small changes and added some elements of my own, but the core idea is still the same. i hope you like it!

jake sim x fem!reader

teasing, roughness, manhandling, dom!jake, brat taming, powerplay, begging, edging, orgasm denial, dirty talk, oral sex (f rec), praise-degradation mix, shoe play, public (restaurant), dry humping, fingering, breastplay, facial cumshot teasing, roughness, manhandling, dom!jake, brat taming, powerplay, begging, edging, orgasm denial, dirty talk, oral sex (f rec), praise-degradation mix, shoe play, public (restaurant), dry humping, fingering, breastplay, facial cumshot

jaeyun-ie

xtcenha

jake is the type of friend that once he gets a license he would drive you anywhere you wanted, or anywhere he wanted and you got no choice but to go with him

there’s just one slight favor he asked for driving you, not money, food or gas, no, he would ask you to spread your legs for him while he drives

jake has always been touchy, since the first moment you get on the passenger seat his hand lands on your thigh

it just happens that seconds later that same hand had slid up and up and right between your legs, fingers pressing curiously right on your clit

he starts slow, just rubbing little circles on your clit for a few seconds and then stopping but never does his hand moves, he keeps it there

sometimes he slides the hand back to your thigh, squeezing while he concentrates on the road, almost like doesn’t even realize what he is doing

after a few minutes he makes you spread your legs wider for him, pinching your skin if you don’t, and he starts being mean, he is pressing down with more pressure, doing eight figures, pressing down and hand moving side to side with rapid speed

you can’t help but trash a little on your seat, jake always making you sensitive in short time, one of your arms is wrapped around the one that he has in between your legs, you even bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning to loud

once both your underwear and whatever bottoms you’re wearing are all fully wet right where your crotch is, he just slides his hand down to your hip, signaling you to pull your clothes down, which you obviously do

jake doesn’t even wait for you to take down your panties when his hand is back where it was, hand directly touching your wet pussy, fingers moving with purpose, middle finger thrusting inside you, a gasp falling from your lips making jake just smirk at the sound

he moves fast, finger curling deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot that makes your knees weak and eyes roll back, once he feels you’re loose enough, he adds another finger inside, you don’t even try to silence yourself this time

thrusting in and out, deep and fast, you’re close in no time, your hands grasping his arm in frenzy, you don’t even have to tell him you’re close, he can feel it

he goes faster, your hips starts moving on their own, your clit grazes all over his palm making it feel even better and no long after you cum all over his fingers

moans of his name and what he can identify are feel so good’s falling from your mouth

you haven’t even realized that you had already arrived to your destination, with hazy eyes you look back at him, his gaze finding yours and he gives you the biggest and boyish grin ever before carefully pulling his fingers out, finding a wet wipe for you; and him

when you finally relax he just grabs your chin and makes you look at him and says “what do we say? hmm?”

“thanks for the ride jakey…”

jaysbaefie

the pushover | sjy

synopsis: in which jake sim finally stops letting you run the show—only to prove he’s always known how to handle you.

genre: childhood best friends au

pairing: childhood best friend!jake x bratty!reader

warnings: softdom!jake, bratty!reader, reader is so annoying but jake loves it, cornering, bantering, jake scolds reader often, jake is in loveeee, manhandling, spanking ass + pussy, oral (f.rec), spit play, tit play, unprotected p in v, clit play, biting..i think that’s it??

wc: 16.5k+

starryjake

chemistry | s.j

in which you have complicated feelings for your best friend’s ex boyfriend.

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

warnings: best friends ex!jake, enemies to ???, everyone is kinda toxic, dry humping, hickeys, fingering in public, exhibitionism, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing, finger sucking, mention of throwing up but doesn’t actually happen, unprotected sex, cumming inside, squirting.

wc: 11.5k. not proofread.

“i’m so sorry,” you said softly, rubbing your best friend’s back as she sobbed into her pillow. “you don’t deserve this.”

mia raised her head, her cheeks streaked with black streams of mascara and tears. her hair was a mess, her eyes a never ending waterfall—the true form of a person who just got brutally dumped.

“how could he do this to me?” she cried, looking at you like you had the answer. “i was supposed to be different. i was supposed to be the one for him.”

“i know you don’t see it now,” you told her, “but it may be a blessing in disguise.”

“i don’t care!” mia sobbed, collapsing dramatically back onto her pillow. “i wanted him!”

your words were ultimately pointless, so you rubbed her back again, providing as much comfort as you could muster.

that was two weeks ago, when sim jake broke your best friends heart.

they’d only managed to be an official couple for about three months before jake abruptly dumped her over the phone.

in fact, you were actually there when it happened. lots of people were because jake decided to make the phone call when he knew mia was out at a girls night with all her friends, including you.

you could remember the way her expression fell a minute into the phone call, the way her eyes welled up with tears and the hand that flew over her mouth in shock.

the rest of the girls night was spent consoling her, which was impossible because mia really did like him and had no idea he intended to break up with her.

so, from that point on you, you hated jake. you despised him, and since mia didn’t have it in her to hate him, you hated him enough for the both of you.

you hated him, his friends, his stupid australian accent—everything about him and everything do with him.

so, you were far from pleased when the new semester of school started and you found that you had a class with him.

chemistry.

you were only taking it to fulfill a general requirement that you needed to graduate. otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting in the lecture hall at 8 a.m. on an extra freezing winter morning, eyelids heavy as the professor droned on and on about elements and molecules.

not only were you irritated by the painfully boring lecture, but the sight of jake sitting just a few rows in front of you with his friends made it ten times worse.

you couldn’t help your eyes from continuously wandering his way, not because you cared about his existence, but because he and his friends were obnoxious and distracting. other students in the class noticed it, too, but they were too far from the professor for him to notice. plus, the professor looked very old, so you weren’t sure he would have noticed either way.

when class ended, you shoved everything into your backpack and practically sprinted out of the lecture hall, eager to get back to your warm apartment where you’d be safe from the freezing temperatures and icy snow.

you only managed to get a few feet from the building before your name was being called.

“y/n!” someone shouted, someone you really hoped it wasn’t. “wait up!”

you turned your head, and when you saw that it was jake jogging over to you, you walked a little faster.

“hey,” he said, managing to catch up with you, slightly breathless. “when someone says wait up, that usually mean you should stop walking.”

“i know what it means,” you responded.

you hadn’t spoken to him once since he broke up with mia.

when they were still dating, their friend groups kind of combined, and since you were mia’s closest friend, you ended up hanging around jake a lot. you got to know him a bit, and you actually liked him as a person, but all that ended the minute he made that phone call to mia.

“right,” he mumbled, sighing. “how’s she doing?”

you raised an eyebrow.

“great,” you lied.

mia was actively doing horrible. she didn’t want to leave her house, not even to go to class. she didn’t want to eat or do anything except stay in her bed and sleep.

“really?” jake asked, the surprise is his tone obvious.

“yeah,” you said. “she seems happier than ever now that you’re not in the picture anymore.”

jake scoffed. “yeah, right.”

he was walking next to you through campus, mindlessly following you in the direction of your apartment.

“why do you even care?” you asked, irritated on behalf of mia. “you’re the one who broke up with her.”

“i don’t care,” jake responded. “i was just curious.”

god, he’d become such a dick.

you rolled your eyes. “whatever, jake.”

“what, just because i broke up with her, that means you have to hate me too?” he asked.

“well, yeah,” you scoffed. “obviously. plus, you broke up with her in the douchiest way possible, and didn’t even tell her why.”

“i did tell her why,” jake defended.

“oh yeah?” you said. “why then?”

“so i could see other people,” he answered.

you shook your head in disbelief. what the hell happened to him? he was so nice when he was dating mia—it was like something possessed him.

“you’re an asshole,” you told him, shooting him one more glare before speeding up and walking away from him.

mia — 7:57 p.m.

has everyone seen/heard abt him?

you glanced down at your phone, reading the message mia had sent to the girls group chat.

you debated whether or not you should tell her.

chae — 7:58 p.m.

i haven’t

jira — 8:00 p.m.

me neither thank god 🙄

you sighed, knowing mia would probably be upset if she found out you’d spoken to him and not told her.

y/n — 8:01 p.m.

he’s in my chem class…

it seemed like not even a second passed before your phone started vibrating with an incoming call from mia.

you shut your laptop, leaving your studies behind for the moment to focus your attention of your best friend.

“you have a class with him?!” she practically shouted in your ear as soon as you picked up the call.

“yeah, unfortunately,” you answered, leaning back in your desk chair.

“well, tell me everything!” she exclaimed. “how’d he look? did he look distraught? sad? tired? did he say anything to you?”

“he looked—”

“did he say anything about me?” she interrupted, eagerly spewing questions at you. “do you think he wants to get back together?”

“he asked me how you were,” you finally managed to utter.

there was a brief pause on the line, and then you heard a sniffle.

“oh my god,” mia said, and you could hear in her voice that she was crying. “oh my god, he still cares. he cares about me.”

you decided not to tell her about the part where jake distinctly announced that he doesn’t care.

“yeah,” you mumbled.

“well, what’d you say?” mia questioned.

“i said you were great,” you told her. “and that you’re happier than ever now that he’s out of the picture.”

you expected her to be proud of your lie, happy with your response.

but instead there was a pause.

and then, “you’re kidding, right?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“no?” you replied, confused.

“y/n,” she said, her voice scarily deep and unsettling. “you told him that i’m doing great? and that i’m happy without him?”

“…yes?” you remarked, still utterly confused.

“are you a fucking idiot?” she said, voice getting louder. “why the hell would you tell him that? he’s not going to want to get back together with me if he thinks i’m doing perfectly fine without him! he should know that i’ve never been worse in my life, that i need him back!”

her words were slightly intelligible through her mixture of wrath and crying, but you managed to make out what she’d said, and you knew that you somehow fucked up.

“shit, i didn’t know,” you said, voice small and hesitant like a child’s. “i thought you’d want him to think you’re better off without him, that you’re seeing other people and stuff.”

“oh my god, no!” she yelled, true frustration and anger in her voice. “fuck, you are so dumb! i can’t believe this. he probably thinks i’m screwing someone else by now and that i’ve forgotten all about him because of you!”

you tried not to feel hurt by her words. you knew she wasn’t in her right mind, that this breakup was really taking a toll on her and her mental state.

but still, you wanted to try and make things right.

“well, i can talk to him again!” you suggested, hoping she’d like the idea. she went quiet, which told you that she was at least listening. “i can tell him i was lying and that you’re actually doing terrible.”

“you’d do that?” mia asked.

you already regretted telling her that. the last thing you wanted to have to do was converse with that jackass again.

“sure,” you agreed. “if it makes it better.”

“that would mean the world to me,” mia gushed, letting out a relieved sigh. “really, y/n, thank you so much.”

her tears and anger seemed like a thing of the distant past, and it almost frightened you how quick she was able to jump from emotion to emotion.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “no problem.”

the next day, all throughout class your dread for taking to jake grew. you just had to keep reminding yourself that you were doing it for mia.

so, once class was over, it was time for you to strike.

jake was between two of his friends, heading for the door, when you boldly tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

they all turned and looked at you.

“hey, y/n,” sunghoon said, smiling politely. “how have you been?”

“i didn’t know you were in this class,” jay said, offering a wave.

jake only stared down at you, his expression unreadable.

“i need to talk to you,” you told him, disregarding his friends.

jake raised a surprised eyebrow.

“fine,” he said. turning to his friends, he said, “i’ll catch up with you guys later.”

sunghoon and jay went one way out of the building, and you and jake went another, out into the frosty air.

“surprised you’re talking to me voluntarily,” he said, cheeks turning red from the coldness.

“i wouldn’t call it voluntarily,” you muttered under your breath. “listen, i lied yesterday.”

jake frowned, stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets. “about what?”

“about mia,” you answered. “about how she’s doing fine. she’s actually not. at all. she’s terrible. really, really terrible.”

“oh,” jake said. he was quiet for just a moment, and then simply said, “okay.”

you paused in your footsteps, looking at him with a frown.

“that’s it?” you asked.

he also stopped walking, turning to face you.

“um, yeah?” he remarked. “what else am i supposed to say?”

“you could feel a little remorse for hurting someone that you once actually had true feelings for,” you snapped back. “but all you have to say is ‘okay?’”

“yep,” jake said. “okay.”

you scoffed. “you’re insane. really, you must be a sociopath or something.”

jake let out a forced chuckle.

“believe me, i’m not,” he said.

“no, i think you are,” you argued. “seriously, you’re just so cruel. i don’t get how you switched up so fast.”

“you’re acting like i broke up with you,” he replied. “if she’s so upset about it, tell her to come talk to me instead of sending you as her little messenger. i’m sure you have better things to do.”

“like you’d have a real conversation with her,” you spat back. “a phone call is the best she’ll get out of you.”

“she should be glad to get to talk to me at all,” jake remarked, anger rising in his voice.

“well, i know i for one really don’t enjoy talking to you,” you replied, your voice also raising.

“then why are you?” jake questioned, raising his hands up in exasperation.

“for her!” you fully yelled, earning you and jake a few looks from students passing by. you exhaled deeply, embarrassed about the attention. “but, i’m done now.”

“good,” jake grumbled.

“yeah, good,” you muttered before turning around and speeding away.

mia — 6:27 p.m.

did you talk to him???

there went your phone again, buzzing on your desk while you tried to do homework.

you flipped your phone over, not wanting to think about your argument with jake earlier, and especially not wanting to have to explain it to mia.

you refocused your attention on your laptop, trying to engage in your homework, but less than a minute later, there was another message.

mia — 6:28 p.m.

y/nnnnnn

come on i’ve been waiting all day

you huffed in annoyance, finally picking your phone up to respond.

y/n — 6:30 p.m.

he said okay.

just as you expected, your phone started ringing. you picked up right away.

“what the fuck do you mean he said okay?” mia asked.

“i said you were doing terrible and all that, and he said okay,” you explained. “it wasn’t much of a conversation.”

“so, he doesn’t even care?” she asked, voice cracking as a warning sign of tears.

“i don’t know, mia,” you relented, sighing in defeat. “i can’t tell, but i can’t keep having these conversations with him. they’re pointless and he pisses me off too much.”

“he pisses you off?” mia accused. “well, excuse me. i guess it’s more important how you feel rather than the person who got their heart torn apart in shreds by him.”

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you defended. “i’m just saying, nothing good is coming from this. i feel like you need to just stop thinking about him as best as you can and try to start moving on.”

“i can’t fucking just move on, y/n!” mia shouted. “that man is my soulmate and i know it, and he just needs a little reminder that i am the one for him.”

“then you remind him,” you said, hanging up abruptly.

you felt guilty immediately.

the poor girl was going through a breakup and you were no help. if anything, you felt like you’d just made things worse somehow.

you’d gotten into too many arguments that day, and you were tired. you didn’t want to be put in the middle of their failed relationship any longer. you didn’t like jake, and now you were starting to get annoyed with mia.

you needed to stay out of it.

a night out.

that was what you needed.

a week later you found yourself at the local bar with chae and jira, the first night you’d all gone out together since the breakup.

“i’m sorry, but she was acting crazy,” you ranted to the girls, sipping on your vodka cranberry. “she was screaming at me over the phone when all i was trying to do was be a good friend.”

“this breakup has been horrible on her,” jira said. “is it bad to say i’m kinda glad she isn’t here tonight?”

the three of you were sitting at a high top table in the corner, overlooking the bar, which was bustling and busy since it was a friday night.

“no, me too,” chae agreed. “if she was here, the only thing she’d be doing is crying over jake, and i’m just tired of hearing about it.”

“well, at least we’re all on the same page,” you said, sipping down the rest of your drink. “i’m gonna get another drink.”

you strode off to the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to get to you. you ordered another vodka soda.

once your drink was made and in hand, you turned to go back to your table, only to find that it wasn’t just chae and jira sitting there anymore. accompanying them was sunghoon and jay, and you almost didn’t want to go back over.

alas, you did, clearing your throat to make your presence known.

“oh, hey, y/n,” sunghoon greeted, smiling warmly down at you much like he had in class the other day.

“hey,” you greeted unsurely.

“guess we all needed a night out,” jira joked.

“yeah, it feels like this breakup has been taking a bigger toll on us than it has them,” jay said.

“has jake been handling it badly too?” chae wondered.

jay and sunghoon exchanged knowing glances.

“not exactly,” jay answered. “he’s…handling it the way he handles things.”

suddenly, his gaze drifted to the other corner of the bar. you all followed where he was looking to find that jake was standing at the bar with a girl, his hand secured on her lower back.

you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief and disgust.

“he’s awful,” you said, the girls nodding in agreement.

“he’s not,” sunghoon defended. “he’s just—”

jay rapidly shook his head, stopping sunghoon from saying whatever it was he was about to say. sunghoon took a sip of his drink to keep himself from spilling.

“just what?” jira wondered.

“nothing,” jay answered, waving his hand dismissively. “do you guys wanna take that booth over there?”

so, you found yourself moving over to the booth with the girls, sunghoon, and jay. you were very relieved mia wasn’t here, and you knew that she could not find out her closest friends were hanging out with her exes closest friends.

the group began to talk, but you were quick to zone out, your attention drifting over to jake from across the room for whatever reason. you sipped your drink, feeling the alcohol course through your veins and make your head fuzzy.

you watched the way his hand gripped the girls waist, the way he smiled charmingly at her and nodded along to whatever she was saying, pretending like he was listening when it was clear to you he just wanted to get in her pants.

but then the girl left. she hugged jake, and walked out of the bar without him.

was he just rejected?

please let that have been a rejection, you thought to yourself, beyond grateful to hav just witnessed it if it was was.

he sauntered over to the booth where you all were, sliding in across from you.

“why are we sitting with them?” he asked sunghoon and jay. “more specifically, her.”

his eyes landed on you when he said it, and you stuck up your middle finger.

“what happened? i thought you were gonna go home with that girl,” sunghoon said, disregarding jake’s question.

“she said she couldn’t bring anyone to her place or sleep over because her parents are visiting,” jake explained.

“sounds like bullshit to me,” you said.

jake squinted his eyes at you.

“i got her number,” he informed.

“well, i was watching you guys the whole time and didn’t see her give it to you,” you responded.

“oh, so you’re stalking me now?” jake said, leaning in closer to you across the table.

“like i care that much about you,” you retorted, also leaning in to show that you weren’t intimidated by him.

“hey, hey, hey,” jay finally intervened, pulling jake’s shoulder back. “what the hell is the matter with you guys?”

“how are you friends with him?” you asked jay and sunghoon, utterly bewildered.

they were so nice, and jake was so awful.

“i could ask the same thing to you guys,” jake said to your friends.

“guys, stop,” chae said, frowning as she looked between you and jake. “listen, you guys obviously don’t have to be friends or even like each other, but you can’t fight like this.”

you slumped down in the booth seat, shoulders caving in as you grumpily sipped your drink.

“whatever,” you grumbled.

jake scoffed, then mumbled, “i’m getting a drink.”

he slid out of the booth and went back to the bar, ordering himself a drink.

he came back a few minutes later, and you didn’t let yourself look at him, knowing you’d probably just want to say something snarky every time.

so, you and the rest of the group talked and drank, then drank some more, and drank even more.

you were drunk. not just tipsy or buzzed, but fully drunk, edging the border of blacking out.

you knew you had to stop, but by the time you figured that out, it was too late.

everyone was at the table, laughing and chatting and getting along quite well the same way you all did back when you hung around each other when jake and mia were still dating.

and then it hit you.

a wave of nausea overcame your body. your face paled, your laughter coming to an immediate halt as soon as the urge to release everything you’d drunken that night hit you.

without saying anything to anyone, you jumped out of the booth and pushed your way through hoards of people to get outside.

as soon as you made it outside and the cold hair hit your overheated skin, the urge to dispel your guts faded. the nausea wore off, and all you felt was the dizziness of being drunk.

you stumbled over to the brick wall, leaning your back against it to keep yourself sturdy. you pressed a hand to your hand, catching your breath.

“you okay?”

jake.

you took a deep inhale, nodding. you still were trying not to look at him, but had no choice to when he held out a glass of ice water for you.

“here,” he said. “you need water.”

with a shaky hand, you accepted the water and took a few small sips. you could feel yourself sobering up as a result of freezing temperature and a liquid in your system that wasn’t alcohol.

“thanks,” you uttered out.

jake leaned against the wall next to you, keeping a decent sized gap between the two of you. the music from the bar vibrated through the wall, thumping in your ears.

you were waiting for him to say something, expecting something snarky or teasing you for nearly puking up everything you drank over the course of the night.

but it was silence from him. instead, you were the one to speak.

“i don’t get you,” you said. his head turned to face you, waiting for you to elaborate. “are you nice or are you a dick?”

he chuckled, his dark eyes shiny in the night.

“that’s up for debate,” he answered.

“yeah,” you mumbled. “i can’t figure it out. you were cool when you were dating mia, but now you’re just a douche.”

jake rubbed his neck. “we all deal with things differently.”

“yeah, but…” you trailed off, too tired and drunk to think straight. “i don’t know. just seems like i’m the only one you’re like this to.”

jake took a step closer, turning to lean his wall on the shoulder and face you. he crossed his arms, his breath appearing as a white cloud in front of his face.

“you’re not so nice to me either, you know,” he said.

“yeah, but it’s warranted,” you said. “you broke my best friends heart, so obviously i’m gonna hate you.”

he hummed, strands of dark hair rustling in the piercing wind.

“maybe i wouldn’t have ended things if i’d known it’d make you hate me,” he said.

you blinked, your drunken brain desperately trying to decipher the meaning of what he’d just told you.

but, nothing. you didn’t understand, and you honestly weren’t sure you’d understand if you were sober either.

“what?”

jake shook his head.

“nothing.”

you didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like had nothing else to add, so you just stared at each other, eyes watery from the wind.

“your cheeks are red,” you pointed out, unsure why you said it and even more unsure of why you brought your hand up to poke said cheek.

he smiled a bit at the feeling of your finger pressing into his cheek. he leaned into the feeling, eyes following your finger as it left his face and fell back to your side.

“it’s cold out,” he replied.

“yeah,” you said, “but it feels good.”

suddenly, jake grabbed your wrist and brought your hand back to his face. you flattened your palm and he pressed it against his cheek, keeping his hand on top of yours to keep it planted there.

you frowned in confusion. even drunk, you could tell something wasn’t right.

but you didn’t stop it when jake seemed to be getting closer. you didn’t stop it when his face was just inches away from yours, when his warm breath fanned your face and his eyes flickered down to your lips.

you didn’t stop him when he leaned into just a bit more, ready to accept his lips on yours.

“there you guys are!”

jake practically slapped your hand down from his face and spun away from you, leaning back against the wall like he wasn’t just a millisecond away from kissing you.

out walked your friends, oblivious to what they’d just gotten in the way of.

“are you okay, y/n?” chae asked urgently, eyebrows pushed together in concern. “you looked pretty rough in there.”

you side eyed jake, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back at you.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you said, pushing your hair out of your face. “i’m just ready to go home.”

you guys said your goodbyes to the boys, jake still refusing to make eye contact with you, and then went your own way opposite of them.

it took all of your strength and energy to show up to class that monday morning.

there was about a foot of snow coating the ground outside, and you were exhausted. it’d taken you all weekend to record from the hangover you had.

most of all, though, you were nervous about seeing jake.

nothing had happened, but something really almost did, and would’ve had your friends not walked out at the worst possible second.

you would’ve kissed jake—a man you hated, and your best friends ex boyfriend who she’s still obsessed with.

the thought of it all made your stomach twist, and you knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting through the lecture.

nonetheless, you had a degree to get, so you kept your head held high and marched up to the door of the building.

you tugged on the handle, but it didn’t budge.

with a frown, you tried the other door. locked.

“class was cancelled.”

your body tensed at the sudden voice, a voice that was all too familiar and distinct from its accent.

you turned only to find jake standing behind you. you gulped, trying to keep a calm demeanor. don’t let him see your nerves.

“oh,” you said.

you weren’t sure how you missed the email or noticed the lack of students on campus as you were walking through. it went to show how in your own head you currently were.

you shifted your gaze down and started trudging through the snow to go back home.

“y/n, wait,” jake said.

you kept walking, and he followed you anyway.

“can we talk?” he asked.

“about what?”

“you know what.”

you stopped in your footsteps.

“sure,” you replied, your tone bitter. “why’d you do it? why’d you try to kiss me?”

jake’s jaw clenched. there was a glimmer in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite make out.

“i was drunk,” he answered.

“really? that’s your answer?” you asked.

“that’s the truth,” he said.

you scoffed. “god, you really are a dick.”

you started walking again, jake immediately following.

“you would’ve kissed me back,” he argued. “don’t try to deny it.”

“i was drunk,” you replied, using his own words against him.

“well then maybe it’s good we didn’t,” he said.

“obviously it’s good we didn’t!” you exclaimed, halting in your steps so abruptly that jake nearly ran into you. “you’re my best friends asshole ex boyfriend! it would be terrible if we kissed!”

“okay, okay, i get it,” jake said, raising his hands in defense. “we can just forget it happened.”

“believe me, i’m trying,” you grumbled.

for some reason, a reason you had no explanation for, you felt like jake looked hurt. he looked like a kicked puppy, a slight pout to his plump lips, and his eyes big and longing.

it almost made you feel bad. almost.

“i guess i’ll see you in class,” he mumbled, then turned around and walked away before you could do it first.

that night, you were sitting on the couch in your apartment, the tv playing some random movie in front of you. it didn’t matter because you couldn’t pay attention to it anyway. your mind was somewhere else.

jake.

you couldn’t stop thinking about him. from the moment he almost kissed you to the look on his face when you told him you were trying to forget the almost-kiss. you just couldn’t get him out.

letting out a defeated sigh, you grabbed your phone and opened instagram. you typed his username into the search slot and tapped on his account, scrolling through his array of pictures.

there was a picture of him and his dog, a picture of him with sunghoon and jay, but the one that caught your attention the most was one of just him.

it was a candid photo of him standing on the rooftop of some building overlooking the city. the first one was of him looking out at the view, and the next few pictures to follow were of him looking towards the camera once he realized his photo was being taken.

the photo carousel ended with him smiling at the camera, reaching out to take the phone from the person’s hand.

you stared hard. his face, as much as you really hated to admit it, was very handsome. he was a good looking guy, and there was no denying it.

you brushed your thumb over the screen, as though you could caress his face through the phone.

but in doing that, you accidentally liked the picture.

and the picture was from five months ago.

your eyes widened, heart race accelerating as you realized the horrible mistake you just committed. you unliked the photo right away, but you knew it didn’t matter. you were fucked. you’d just exposed yourself for stalking his account.

but it only got worse, because you could see that jake suddenly went online. and then, your phone vibrated with a new message.

jakesim02 — 10:25 p.m.

that’s a pretty good picture of me huh

you turned your phone off and threw it to the other side of the couch, groaning into your hands in frustration.

as jake was walking in to class the next day, he went straight over to your seat and sat next to you.

you shot him a fierce glare, not knowing why he’d just sat next to you.

“did you have fun stalking my account yesterday?” he teased.

your jaw clenched, and you exhaled through your nostrils in frustration.

“it was an accident,” you defended.

“i know,” he said. “it was an accident when you liked the picture, but it wasn’t an accident when you got on instagram, typed my name into the search, and scrolled through all my photos.”

you were at a loss for words. he was absolutely right, as irritating and terrible as it was.

what were you thinking? why did you care about his instagram? why did you have to do that and be so reckless?

luckily, class started then, so instead of having to come up with some terrible, unbelievable excuse, the professor began to teach.

jake didn’t go back to his normal seat, though. he stayed put right there next to you, his body close enough to yours that the sides of your arms touched.

you didn’t like it. rather, you didn’t like the way it made you feel. you didn’t like that it made your entire body feel warm, just the sensation of coming in contact with him.

there was something very wrong here. you weren’t friends with jake. you were far from it, actually, so why was he sitting beside you in the lecture and why were you letting him? why was he close enough that you could smell his cologne and why did you want him even closer?

it was safe to say, there was no focusing on the material being taught that day.

jakesim02 — 8:51 p.m.

hey

be a dear and send me the notes from today? 🙏

a few days later, and your relationship with jake seemed to have transformed entirely.

he’d begun sitting next to you in class everyday, his friends accepting that he wasn’t sitting with them anymore.

and somehow, you didn’t mind it. in fact—and you knew this was bad—but you began looking forward to it. the once dreaded 8 a.m. lecture was something you got excited for now because you knew you’d get to see jake.

not only would you get to see him, but you’d get to sit next to him, to feel his arm occasionally brush against yours, to hear him whisper a joke about the old professor in your ear and have to stifle laughter for the rest of class.

usery/n — 8:53 p.m.

how come you didn’t show up 🧐

today had been the first time jake missed a class. you were tempted to message him that morning and ask him where he was, but even you knew how desperate that would’ve sounded.

you had to at least try to keep pretending like you hated him for mia’s sake.

jakesim02 — 8:53 p.m.

aww did you miss me? ☺️☺️☺️

i’m out sick, probs won’t make it tmr either

so make sure to take good notes 👍

usery/n — 8:55 p.m.

you’re sick? what’s wrong?

jakesim02 — 8:55 p.m.

just a cold and fever

probably just bc the weather

usery/n — 8:56 p.m.

deserved.

jakesim02 — 8:56 p.m.

WTF 😭😭

usery/n — 8:57 p.m.

i’ll bring the notes over tomorrow.

jakesim02 — 8:59 p.m.

let’s gooo 🙏🙏🙏

you closed out of instagram and set your phone aside, already feeling the combination of anxiety and excitement in your stomach about seeing jake outside of a classroom setting tomorrow.

what the hell was your problem? if mia knew you were having these feelings, developing some sort of a friendship with jake, she would be beyond infuriated.

you knew it was bad, but you just couldn’t tell her.

inhale.

knock on the door.

exhale.

a moment later, jake opened his apartment door, a smile overtaking his face when he saw you.

“hey, come in,” he said, stepping out of the doorway.

he was clad in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hair messy and his nose red. he was sick, indeed, and you didn’t even feel like saying anything snarky about it because you could only focus on how cute he looked.

you were royally fucked.

you stepped into his apartment, sliding out of your shoes.

“i got you a copy of the notes,” you informed, “and this.”

you help a tupperware container of soup that you’d made yourself.

“oh my god,” he gushed. “you made that for me?”

“no,” you lied, eyes shifty. “i was making soup anyway. i just had some leftover.”

“either way,” he said, accepting the container from you, “that’s really sweet. i appreciate it.”

you shrugged like it was nothing, but deep down you were pleased to have made him happy.

“would you mind helping me recap the lectures i missed?” jake asked, already starting back down the hall to his bedroom. “i’m sure the notes are great, but just in case. if you’re not busy.”

you gulped, your feet already following him to his room.

“okay,” you agreed. “just for a bit.”

once in his room, he sat on his bed, the blankets a mess which told you he’d probably been laying there for the majority of the day. there was a box of tissues on the nightstand, some crumpled up on the floor.

“sorry, it’s dirty,” he said. “i’ve just been…”

he trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“sick?” you questioned.

“yeah,” he confirmed, chuckling.

you got the feeling that he was a little nervous about you being there, and that only made you feel more nervous. it was wrong, and it seemed like you both knew that.

you cleared your throat and sat down at his desk, pulling the notes out of your backpack. you handed him the pages and kept a copy for yourself, then began recapping and explaining.

jake listened dutifully, asking questions for clarification here and there. you were surprised by his interest in the subject, how it seemed like he actually cared about the content you guys were learning whilst you only cared enough to pass the tests and get the class over with.

you were in the middle of answering one of his questions when he suddenly began coughing. he’d been coughing a bit the entire time, but this time specifically seemed like an extra bad attack.

it was enough for you to stop talking, looking up at him with concern. you then noticed the water bottle on his desk and quickly picked it up, bringing it over to him.

he took it gratefully, taking a few large swigs that helped calm his cough attack down.

“fuck,” he muttered, twisting the lid back on. “thank you. sorry.”

“are you okay?” you asked, cautiously sitting on the edge of his bed next to him.

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” he assured you. “sorry, you can keep talking about the notes, or…”

he trailed off, looking at you like he’d just realized you were sitting on his bed now, that you were closer than you were before. he swallowed, eyes shamelessly scanning you from the bottom to the top.

he licked his lips, meeting your eyes.

“or what?” you asked, your voice ever so soft.

he exhaled, trailing his hand across the mattress until it landed on top of yours. you looked down at where they met, at where your fingers folded into each others.

“or,” he said, “come here.”

you looked back up to his face, and suddenly it was so obvious. he wanted to kiss you. he really wanted to kiss you. the hunger was evident in his eyes, his cheeks flush from both the fever and the desire to have you.

and you wanted him just as badly. you needed him in that moment.

so, you let go of every negative emotion of you had about him and the situation just for the time being, and leaned in, connecting your lips together.

jake sighed into the kiss, relieved to finally feel the sensation of you on him. he brought his hands to your waist, gripping you with as much of the little energy he had.

he kissed you slowly, warmly, tenderly, the heat of his body radiating against you. you didn’t even care that he was sick anymore, that there was a high chance you could sick from the exchanging of germs.

none of that mattered. kissing him felt too good, too right. sickness be damned. mia be damned.

he spread his legs a bit, pulling you onto his lap. you straddled him, leaning forward so your chests were pressed together.

your head tilted to the side to kiss him deeper, and you couldn’t believe how good it felt. you could feel it in your entire body—the electricity, the warmth and excitement that came from his lips fluidly rubbing against yours.

your lips smacked together, creating a lewd sound that had a sensitive jake moaning into your mouth, jutting his hips up into you desperately. you gasped at the feeling of his hard on pressed against you, your lips opening just wide enough for him to snake his tongue inside.

you immediately accepted this intrusion, quick to rub your tongue back against his. it was filthy, sloppy, and wet, and you both couldn’t get enough.

you found yourself shifting your hips back and forth on his lap, desperate to ease some of the tension that had built between your legs. he helped guide you, keeping a firm grip on your hips.

“fuck, y/n,” he whispered. “feels so fucking good.”

you clenched around nothing, your fist squeezing the fabric of his sweatshirt. you trailed your lips down from his mouth to his jawline, pressing down hard and warm. you then continued making your way down to his neck, where you continue to kiss and eventually suck, carelessly leaving purple and pink bruises on his overheated skin.

“oh fuck,” he moaned, more sensitive than normal. his hips were thrusting up into you, like he was trying to fuck you through his clothes. “oh my god, yeah. that’s so good, baby.”

but it was when jake began dragging his hand up your shirt, pulling the fabric along with him, that you started to remember the situation at hand, that reality came back into the light.

jake was mia’s ex. mia loved jake. jake broke up with her over the phone because he was a dick. you were making out with him. you were supposed to hate him.

oh god, everything was all wrong. how did this happen? what the hell were you doing?

you quickly detached yourself from jake, climbing off his lap. he looked up at you with furrowed eyebrows, worried that he’d done something wrong.

“what is it?” he asked. “are you okay?”

your eyes trailed down to the hickeys on his neck, your heart plummeting to your stomach. you’d done that. you just gave hickeys to mia’s ex boyfriend.

“um.” you could hardly speak. “i have to go now.”

“but—”

you were rapidly gathering your things, shoving your laptop and folder into your backpack.

“feel better,” you said, swinging your backpack over your shoulder.

you were out of his room in a flash, beelining straight to the front door without looking back.

“do you like this one or this one better?” mia asked you, holding up two different skirts.

“that one,” you answered, pointing to the ruffled denim mini skirt.

“hm,” mia said, not seeming satisfied with your answer. “i like the other one better.”

she disappeared behind the dressing room curtain, and you let out a sigh of relief once she couldn’t see you anymore.

you were shopping at the mall, the first time you’d hung out in weeks alone, and it was harder than you thought it’d be after what you’d done with jake.

the guilt was immense. you could hardly stand to be in her presence, afraid that she knew or would find out. you felt like it was written all over your face, or that she could smell it on you—that you’d made out and dry humped her ex boyfriend.

your phone vibrated in your purse while you waited for mia to get changed. you pulled it out, eyes widening when you were met with a notification from the man haunting your mind himself.

jakesim02 — 3:29 p.m.

attachment: 1 image

how much concealer do you think i need to cover these up?

you opened the image—a selfie of jake with his neck stretched to show off all the bruises you’d left.

it was like he wanted to humiliate you.

you didn’t know what to say, how to answer, and mia came bursting through the curtain before you could anyway. you tucked your phone away, giving her your full attention.

“that looks amazing,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face.

“really?” she asked, checking herself in the mirror. “i wanted to get something cute to take pictures in. then, when i post them on instagram, jake will see and come crawling back to me.”

your breath hitched. just hearing his name leave her mouth made you sweat with anxiety.

“oh,” you said, voice shaking. “that’s a good idea.”

“right?” she said happily. “yeah, this is the one. this is the skirt that’s gonna get me my boyfriend back.”

she closed the curtain once again, and you felt your shoulders slump once she was out of sight.

she was adamant on getting jake back—if only she knew.

jake was back to class a couple of days later, back in his seat beside you like everything was fine and normal.

“hey,” he said to you when you walked in.

“hey,” you replied, pulling your laptop out of your backpack.

“you never replied to my message,” he said, watching you focus all your attention on your screen and giving none to him. “it was funny, right? i actually don’t even have any concealer which makes it even funnier.”

“very funny,” you responded dryly.

jake’s smile faded.

“what’s wrong?” he asked you, suddenly planting his hand down on your thigh. “why’d you run out of my apartment so fast the other day?”

your gaze trickled down to his hand on your leg, the veins in his hand sticking out, his fingers long and secure in their placement.

“did you get nervous?” he asked, his voice only loud enough for you to hear.

“no,” you lied. “i—”

“alright, everyone quiet down,” the professor spoke, interrupting you. “class is starting now.”

you gulped, turning back to your laptop screen.

the professor began his lecture, but jake didn’t move his hand from off your leg. he kept in its place for about ten minutes, and then you realized he was slowly dragging it up your thigh, higher and higher.

you glanced over at him from the side of your eye, trying to wordlessly communicate with him, trying to ask what the hell he was doing.

but he wasn’t looking at you. his gaze was fixated on the big screen where the slideshow was, and he took notes with his one free hand.

you sighed, trying to brush it off. if he wanted his hand on your thigh, fine. you didn’t care. it was nothing, and if you just kept telling yourself that, then maybe you could eventually believe it.

but then his hand had gotten too high to be considered appropriate, especially for a public setting. one inch forward and his fingers would brush against your covered pussy. you’d be mortified. you’d be absolutely shocked and humiliated if he were to do that.

so why did a part of you wish he would?

like he could read your mind, jake inched his hand just a bit higher and shifted it so it was cupping your clothed pussy. he pushed his fingers against it, feeling the heat and dampness it was producing.

your head snapped over to him.

“jake,” you whispered, because a part of you had enough sense to know that he shouldn’t do it.

still, he wouldn’t look at you. he pretended to be focused on the lecture, but you didn’t miss the trace of a smirk on his lips. he knew just what he was doing, and he was going to do it full force.

he began rubbing his fingers in little circles over your pussy, and your eyes widened, legs instinctively spreading to accommodate his hand more, to give him easier access.

you looked around at the students surrounding you. everyone was either glued to their phones, taking notes, or asleep. absolutely no one cared about what you and jake were doing.

still, you were nervous. you were in a very public setting and one wrong move could expose to the entire lecture hall what was going on.

you looked over at jake again, keeping your eyes on him as he trailed his hand up to the waistband of your pants, and then dove his hand in.

you pressed your hand over your mouth when you felt his cool fingers slide into your panties. he dragged his fingers down the length of your cunt, smearing your wetness around to make a slippery surface for him to play with.

he rubbed your trembling clit in little circles, going slow so as not to draw too much attention to either of you. you could feel your arousal leaking into his hand. as nervous as you were to be doing this, you couldn’t deny that it was really hot. the fact that anyone could look over and see jake with his hand down your pants—you really got off on that.

he spread your legs with fingers, then teased your entrance with his middle finger. he circled the tip of it around your needy hole, and you found yourself pushing your hips forward, trying to line it up so it’d slip inside you.

you shot jake a glare, and he smiled, relenting.

he slid his finger in and you had to bite down on finger so as not to make the sound you so desperately wanted to release. you sucked his finger in with ease, clenching around it.

he began massaging it against your spongey wall, feeling himself harden in his pants. he couldn’t help but picture what it would be like to have his cock in your tight little pussy instead of just his single finger. what he wouldn’t give to fuck you. he’d do it right then snd there if that was his only chance, fuck you in front of the entire class.

he let out a shaky sigh, slithering in another finger alongside his middle. your hand slapped down onto his wrist, gripping it tightly.

he thrusted his fingers in and out, and moved them back and forth inside you. your eyes rolled back into your head when you felt his palm hit your clit with every thrust.

although it was a tortuously slow pace he was fingering you at, it was perfect. he was deep and his fingers were at the most perfect angle, and your clit was being stimulated too. god, you wanted to fuck him. you wanted to climb into his lap and sink down onto his cock, and just ride him without a care of what anyone else thought, especially mia.

mia. fuck. what would she think if she knew you were getting fingered by her ex boyfriend in the middle of fucking class?

you were so far gone, so desperate to cum, that you didn’t even care. you just wanted him. no, at that point, you needed him.

“jake,” you whimpered, looking up at him with big, glossy eyes.

he held a finger up to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet. but then he started fucking his fingers into you harder and faster, your legs shaking, and how were you supposed to stay quiet through that?

you pressed your face against the side of his arm, eyes clenched shut as his fingers hit the gummy spot in the deepest part of your cunt. you bit your lip hard enough that it could bleed because it felt so good, you wanted to scream.

you wanted to strip your pants off and spread your legs wide so jake could finger you to the full extent. you wanted him to slap your clit with his palm and finger fuck you until you were squirting all over his hand and the chairs that surrounded you guys.

you squeezed his wrist, your cunt tightening around his fingers. he could feel that you were close and continued to pound his fingers into your pussy until you were letting go, thighs clamping around his hand.

he could feel the gush of wetness spill over his fingers, smearing over your inner thighs. he looked down at you and your trembling body, the way you fucked yourself on his fingers to ride out your orgasm, getting every last droplet of it.

you were panting against his arm, and he only pulled out once you released your hard grip on his wrist. his fingers were glistening with your arousal, a string connecting them like ebbing when he pulled them apart.

you crossed your legs, already feeling empty without his hand between them.

there was nothing you could do then except direct your attention back to the lecture. if you were in any different circumstance, perhaps a bedroom, you’re sure it would go further.

but since you were in class, the most he could’ve done was finger you, and even that was probably too much, too risky.

still, it was done, and you had to sit with the physical discomfort of your excessive amount of arousal, and the mental discomfort of having just gotten fingered by mia’s ex.

jakesim02 — 11:01 p.m.

are you awake?

of course you were awake. it was saturday night and you were lying in your bed, your brain still fixating on what happened in class the other day.

you’d refrained from texting jake since then, unsure of what you’d even say, so you were relieved that he finally reached out first.

usery/n — 11:03 p.m.

yeah

jake started typing right away, like he’d just been sitting in the chat waiting for you to answer.

jakesim02 — 11:03 p.m.

this is a long shot but

what if i came over

your heart beat started accelerating at just the idea of jake coming over right now, this late at night.

you knew what would happen if he came over, and it’d be far from innocent. you were feeling guilty over what happened with you two thus far, though, unsure of what to do.

you fought it as much as you could.

usery/n — 11:04 p.m.

we shouldn’t jake

jakesim02 — 11:05 p.m.

i think we should though

think about how good it feels when we’re together

think about how hard you came all over my hand the other day

his words sent a wave of heat rushing over your body, your stomach twisting with the desire to do it all over again, to relive those same sensations you felt in class.

you felt like you an angel and a devil on your shoulder. the angel was telling you to shut your phone off and go to bed, to never speak to jake again because it was wrong.

but the devil yearned to let him come over, to feel the skilled touch of his hands on your body, to go further with him than you’d gone before.

usery/n — 11:08 p.m.

okay

come over.

jake read your message, and didn’t reply.

he was at your apartment within 20 minutes. in the first five minutes of being there, you’d made into your bedroom, onto your bed, and that was where you were left now.

“do you feel bad?” you asked him right before he was about to kiss you.

his hands were cradling your face, his lips inches away. but he shifted back a bit, creating more room between you after you asked that.

“it’s hard to feel bad when being with you feels so right,” he said.

the kind words made you smile—a sad smile that carried the happiness you felt from being with him but the dread that came from knowing it couldn’t end well, that it wasn’t you two who were meant to be together.

“she wants you back,” you whispered, running your finger over the back of his hand. “wants to post a picture for you to see that’ll make you want her again.”

he tilted your chin up, getting you to look him in the eyes again.

“y/n,” he said. “it’s you, okay? not her. let me show you, please.”

his dark eyes shifted down to your lips. and then he was kissing you, and you had no choice but to absolutely melt into it, like his touch put a spell on you.

he held your face, hands drifting into your hair. you crawled into his lap, keeping your lips intertwined while you positioned yourself on him.

he was already hard, probably pent up from the past few days. you were already wet, too, because just kissing him was enough to do it for you.

he held you close and kissed you like his life depended on it, like it would be the last time he ever go to do so, and he really hoped that wasn’t the case.

your tongues twisted together, passing your saliva to each other through the messy kiss. you could feel him twitch right under your cunt, eager to be touched. luckily, you were eager to touch.

you shifted back into the space between his legs, kneeling on the mattress. he watched without so much as a blink as you cupped his bulge, feeling his aching cock twitch and pulsate under your palm.

you began stroking it over his sweatpants, gripping and massaging it. but that wasn’t enough, even for you. you wanted to get the most out of him, to make him feel as good as you possibly could.

clothes were flying off then. first his pants, his shirt, then your shirt and bra, and his underwear.

his cock was long and just as pretty as you expected it to be. his tip was flushed to a light pink, a pearly bead of precum forming at his slit and threatening to drip down his length.

you let a droplet of saliva drip into your palm, and then reached out to grab him.

jake sat up on his knees, sighing at the feeling of your slicked palm wrapped around his cock, stroking him firmly up and down. he was heavy in your hand, and you imagined he’d be even heavier on your tongue.

you leaned in slowly, darting your tongue out to deliver tiny kitten licks to his tip. jake sighed again, gathering your hair into a makeshift pony tail to keep it out of your way.

you dug the tip of your tongue his slit, the taste of his salty precum coating your taste buds. you pressed your tongue down harder, then wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking on it like a lollipop.

“yeah,” he whispered, staring down at you like you were an angel in human form. “so fucking pretty.”

you hummed contentedly, taking him deeper into your mouth. you held onto his hips for support as you dragged your mouth back and forth down his length, taking him in as deep as you could go, slowly training your throat to take all of him.

jake panted, staring down at you as you sucked him off like you already somehow knew exactly what he liked. he loved when you paid extra attention to his sensitive tip, licking the underside of it. he loved when your tongue traced his vein, and when you eventually took him deep enough that your nose was pressed against his pelvis.

fuck, you were a star. you were his star. you were the only person he ever wanted to see with his cock in their throat again.

“that’s it,” he moaned, subtly guiding your head with the ponytail he’d made. “ugh, that feels so fucking perfect.”

you wanted his cum so bad. wanted to feel it on your face and taste it as it shot down your throat. you wanted to swallow every last drop and feel the warmth of it in your stomach.

you felt dirty, the way you wanted him. it was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, but it had you ready to do just about anything he asked of you. you wanted to please him, to make him cry from how good he felt, to have him shaking and writhing beneath you.

you forced yourself to deep throat him, as painful as it felt. you resisted the urge to gag, your throat convulsing around him.

it was all worth it because jake was gasping, tugging on your hair and pushing his hips into your face, forcing his cock even deeper. his tip hit the back of your throat, your face practically flush with his abs.

“mmm, fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned, head tossed back to expose his pretty neck. he thrusted his cock in and out of your mouth, using you just like you wanted him to. “you’re so fucking perfect. this mouth was just made for me sucking me off, wasn’t it, hm? say it, baby.”

he tugged you off his cock just long enough for you to breathlessly utter the words.

“yes, jake,” you said, sniffling. “was made for sucking your cock.”

he groaned, pushing your head back to his cock. you hollowed your cheeks and tucked your teeth under your lips, humming around his cock and breathing through your nose to keep from gagging.

he could feel a warmth settling in his stomach, a knot twisting. it was forming. he was going to cum soon and he knew it was going to be intense because it’d been way too long, and it was you. you were sucking him off and you looked so pretty kneeling in front of him, so how could he not cum buckets for you?

“where do you want my cum, baby?” he asked you.

“my mouth, jake,” you told him, blinking up at him with wet eyes. “wanna taste you.”

your words, so lewd and unexpected, had him finished.

he thrusted against your face once more before the first rope of cum came spurting from the tip of his dick, shooting straight down your throat.

he pulled out to watch the rest of it hit your face, and you stuck your tongue out to take the rest of it on your tongue. each string of white, gooey cum on your face was like paint on a canvas. it was art. you, a cum covered mess, were a piece of art.

“oh my god,” he cried out, fist furiously pumping out every drop of cum he could get out. “take it, baby, fucking take it. take all my cum.”

you moaned at the taste, at his words, at the feeling of each hot splatter on your skin.

when he pumped the last bit out, he sunk down to your level. you licked around your lips to get the surrounding cum you could reach and swallowed all of it like it was your favorite meal.

jake did you the favor of gathering the cum that had landed on your forehead and cheeks, and then shoved his tainted fingers into your mouth so you could really get every last bit like you’d wanted.

you maintained eye contact with him as you sucked on his fingers, tongue swiping around and in between them, cleaning the sticky mess off of them.

all jake could do was watch in awe, thinking about how much time he’d wasted with the wrong person when you were right there all along.

“you’re fucking perfect,” he muttered, in a trance like state.

you swallowed the rest of it and jake pulled his fingers out. he gently laid you down on your back and grabbed your knees, spreading them apart for him to fit between.

he hooked his fingers into your underwear and pulled them down your legs, already feeling your wetness on the fabric.

you were entirely dripping when he looked down at your naked cunt, a string of cum leaking from your needy hole.

“oh my fucking god, baby,” jake purred, bringing his fingers down to rub your eager pussy. “so fucking wet, i can’t believe it.”

you let out a loud moan when his fingers came in contact with you, and you gasped as he easily slid a finger inside, fucking it into you to get you prepped. it wasn’t like you needed much, though. your body wanted him, and it showed.

he only fingered you for about a minute, and then he simply couldn’t wait any longer. he felt like he would die if he wasn’t buried inside you right at that moment.

“is this okay?” he asked as he lined his cock up with your fluttering hole.

“yes,” you assured, nodding your head rapidly. “i need it so bad, jake. please just fuck me.”

he hummed, sinking his cock into your perfectly warm, tight, drenched pussy. you immediately clenched around him, sucking him in deep.

“oh my god,” he mumbled, nails pressing into your thighs. “holy fuck, baby. feels so fucking good. you’re so tight.”

you whimpered, head lolling to the side as he bottomed out, his pelvis pressed to yours.

“fuck, jake,” you said. “it feels so good.”

he laughed to himself, not because it was necessarily funny, but because he was so happy. it felt so right for him to be fucking you, and he could tell you felt it, too.

he pulled out halfway then pushed back in, filling you up entirely. it was like his cock was made just for you, made just to be the perfect fit inside your warmth.

he pushed your knees back, your legs wrapping his waist so he had a better angle to fuck you.

his thrusts were deep and careful, his hips fluid and loose. he was experienced, obviously. no one was this good at fucking without having had practice before.

your best friend. that was his practice. you were sure he fucked mia and you couldn’t believe that you were fucking someone she once had, but it didn’t matter anymore because it was too late. and this was what was right. not her and jake, but you and jake.

“fuck, it’s so good,” you cried, already so far gone and drunk off his cock.

“i know, my sweet girl,” he gushed, pushing his hips forward and pulling back at a slightly faster pace. “you’re doing so good, taking my cock like such a good girl.”

“nghhhh, god, jake!” you cried at his words, loving every bit of praise and adoration he laid upon you. “harder, please! n-need it.”

jake snapped his hips forward, his cock hitting you harder. his tip brushed against that sensitive spot inside of you and you practically screamed, eyes rolling back into your head.

he couldn’t believe how hot you were, how perfect you were sprawled out beneath him, your pliant body taking every thrust he pounded into you.

your body rocked with each thrust, slowly getting pushed up the mattress. your tits bounced, your limbs flailing helplessly from the roughness of his pace and movement. and you loved it—you’d never been fucked like this before.

“yeah, that’s it,” he groaned. “clench for me, baby. wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

he adored how quick you were to obey, your pussy clamping around his cock then just like he asked.

he cursed, somehow fucking you even harder, as hard as he possibly could. he was fucking you practically into the mattress, leaving an indent of your body shape that would be a reminder of this moment, of how no one would be able to ever give it to you the way he could.

“oh my god!” you yelled. “i’m so close, don’t stop! pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop, jake!”

he grunted, his cock drilling your pussy, his pelvis rubbing against your engorged clit every time. the body creaked and the sound of skin slapping against skin was loud and lewd.

the knot in your stomach snapped. you body tensed and you were cumming, and it felt like descending up to the sky. you felt like you weren’t even in your own body, like you had no control anymore as you thrashed and writhed and squirted around his cock.

fluid came gushing and shooting out of you, coating his cock in your cum. drool spilled from the corner of your lips, tears trickled down your face, and jake felt like the luckiest man in the entire world to get to be the one to see it all.

he didn’t even realize he was going to cum until he was, until his load was spilling inside you, staining your walls.

he fucked you through it, jutting his hips forward in desperation, once again milking his cock for all it had.

“fuck, y/n,” he grunted, shoving his load deep inside you. “just take it all, baby. just take it.”

you whimpered, too fucked out to even remember how to speak. all you could do was lay there, twitching, letting him stuff you full of his creamy, milky cum.

you both were practically heaving for air by the time it was all over.

you felt empty jake pulled out and collapsed beside you. he held you close to his bare chest, kissing the top of your head over and over as he, too, couldn’t yet find any words.

minutes passed. it wasn’t until you both could breathe regularly again that he spoke first.

“can i stay?” he asked.

it wasn’t what you were expecting, not that you had any specific you were expecting.

“what?” you blinked up at him in confusion. “like, spend the night?”

“yeah,” he answered. “can i?”

you chuckled, nodding tiredly.

“yeah, of course you can,” you told him.

“okay,” he said, exhaling in relief. “i promise i’ll get up and clean us off in a minute. i just wanna stay in this moment for a little bit longer.”

you had no complaints about that. you, too, wanted to stay in this moment. you wanted to live in it for the rest of time because it felt so good, and so achingly right to be nestled against jake sim’s chest. for him to kissing your head, and playing with your hair, that was what was right.

it was you, not mia.

you were too content. you couldn’t even think about her, though you knew her finding out was inevitable.

but you could deal with it later.

to be continued.

hey so would anyone believe me if i told them i wrote this in a day 🤨

anyway consider this my formal apology for not having written a long fic for jake in forever. starryjake is so back.

leaderwon

HATE THAT...

I hate that I love you

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

Pairing :- nonidol!Jake x reader

Warnings :- 13+, typos! cuz yo girl cannot type to save her life :), smau, fluff, chaotic, cursing, dating app!au, college!au, enemies to lovers, did i mention cursing and typos? no? well there's cursing and typos.

Started (in drafts) : 06/01/2024

Posted : 04/03/2024 (3 fucking months later is this a joke)

Updates : randomly

Status : Ongoing

1 — jet lagged asf

2 — universe this better be a joke

3 — fucking hell!?

4 — this is harrasment

5 — you yap so much

6 — ew why you stalking me

7 — bob the robber

8 — pulled my hair

9 — solitude

10 — I'm on the next level

11 — you stole my ace

12 — 6 foot

13 — sugar mommy

14 — kick some ass

15 — my husband??!

16 — miss your mom

17 — brain in your ass

18 — the Kardashians

19 — hammer

20 — revenge

21 — elephant in the room

22 — traumatised her

23 — random aussie

24 — who the fucking boss is

25 — Australian partner

26 — that fucking bitch

27 — pushed herself

28 — not again

29 — stupid

30 — lila rossi

31 — tnt in my brain

32 — bet

33 — bridal style

34 — your word against mine

TAGLIST (OPEN! send an ask to be added!) :

@leaderwon 2024. Do not copy, translate,alter or plagarize in any platform.

junsfriend

loyal puppy — sjy

SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.

PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 26k+

GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes

WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, ragebaiter!bf Jake, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything

A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but… I loved writing this fic so much.

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