You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - Heavy, heavy angst, cheating and reactive cheating, Satoru is ooc, cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities, painful and hurtful all around.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV and split up by each! based on this drabble - WC - 9k
This won the 30k followers poll! Thank you so so much again!!
masterlist - playlist - part two>>>
part one
Gojo -
Satoru Gojo his entire life has been used – as the ‘head of the Gojo’ clan, as the heir to the empire, everything in his life has been set in stone the moment he was born. They never gave him a real choice, barely let him have friends his entire childhood, no it was studies, it was pressure, it was how to be absolutely perfect, telling him who to talk to, how to act, how to walk.
He knew inevitably his time in college was just a fun distraction, where he had friends for the first time, where he felt almost normal, where he secretly dated – his parents would not approve – of the girls he talked to. Yet he fell into it just a bit, enjoying it too much, partying and fucking the worst girls, ones that would make his parents gasp in shock.
He hung out with the worst crowd, too, straight up heathens really, to rebel as much as he could, before the inevitable fact – his dad was dead, and he was turning twenty four, there was no more partying, no more life, no more dreams. All there was – the obligations, the responsibilities, the arranged wife they’ve had picked out since you both were children.
Oh, you’re beautiful, it’s not that.
You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re kind.
It’s not that.
You’re not his choice, nothing about his entire fucking life was his own choice, and this is just another thing, another way to show him what he is – just something to be used, just a tool for his family to have power. The richest family in Japan must have that, right? And you were from the second richest, and one of the most powerful, from an impeccable line.
You were impeccable, you were exceptional, you were ‘perfect’.
And Satoru Gojo hates you on sight, the moment you meet him at the engagement party – yeah, that's where he officially meets you, and doesn’t just ‘hear about you’. That’s where he sees how fucking gorgeous and bright you are, and for a moment his heart hammers in his chest, for a moment he’d sink to his knees to get a taste of you.
Then he remembers it all, when you shyly look down, when you ring your hands in front of you.
Obligation.
Arrangement.
You didn’t want this, want him, choose him – who would other than for his name, for his power? For what he could do for your family, for everyone. You’re shoved into this – a contract from your youth, who knew what the fuck you wanted, or who you’ve been with, who you want to be with?
You didn’t choose him, he didn’t choose you.
He keeps reminding himself in moments where he thinks the light from the chandeliers are hitting too nicely on your collarbones, when he looks at your lips just a little too long, instead he politely smiles, and turns away. Why, do you ask, does he turn away from his future wife?
Why is he later kissing another woman, fingering her right on the balcony, where pretty much anyone who walks by could see, smirking against her neck with every moan she muffles. Why does Satoru Gojo pick the most common, slutty little waitress to do so, when you’re there in a beautiful fucking gown, and look lost and upset, your lips trembling?
Because imagine a world where he falls – and you didn’t choose him. Imagine he thinks for a brief moment he could have happiness in his life, a joke really, it’s just flitting little moments. He can only handle so much pain, and in turn he causes you the pain, the embarrassment, sucking her juices off his thick fingers after she cums, laughing just a bit and walking back in.
His elders are furious, everyone is murmuring about his antics, as he throws back a shot and chuckles, but you?
You just look down, and a couple of tears fall, turning away and sipping on your wine. You say nothing even as he dances with you later, stumbling a bit with how drunk he’s gotten, to piss them off – to tell them he’s not going down without a fight – looking at you curiously.
You stare at his chest, you say nothing.
“Having fun?” He asks, and you scoff a bit, looking up with glassy eyes, and for a moment it pierces his drunk heart.
He’s horrible.
But isn’t he just a disappointment anyway?
“Am I having fun watching you with another woman at my engagement party?” You ask softly, shaking your head. “I get it, I’m not your type. I knew that from people telling me so.”
He pauses, right in the center of the dance floor.
“Yet I expected some decorum, I expected you to at least be respectful, not to show the world how unappealing you find me,” you whisper, biting down on your lip, shaking your head now. “I wanted to at least try here, with you.”
Satoru can’t speak.
Until he spins you, and catches you, his big hand taking over your waist, thumb pressing under the swell of your breasts. He almost falls then, from just a look, yet he holds himself back, he stops every insane thought and action, laughing easily, like he’s amused.
Satoru is good at hiding.
“Ya thought we’d have some story book romance, huh? Oh… you’re a fairy princess and I’m from another kingdom? And oh…” He leans down, so low to you, lips a breath away. “I fall for the princess, she’s just so beautiful, how can’t I?”
“Gojo…”
“News to you, perfect little fairy princess, I’m not interested in marriage, or any of this shit, this show, I fucking hate it,” his words are harsh, as he squeezes you too tightly, so tightly you’re shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Your prince from another kingdom just stuck his fingers in a waitress. That’s reality, sweetheart.”
You tremble in his hold, and he knows then.
He hurt you.
Good, he thinks, shit will be easier that way, safer if you hate him, if you smack him, tell him to fuck himself. Yet you tilt your chin up and spin as the dance calls for, giving a little curtsey as he steps closer, not showing a hint of emotion aside from your tears that you seemingly can’t stop.
“I see,” is all you say then, stepping back into his arms, as the crowd of gossiping families speaks of it all, you hold all of your composure, even as he raises a brow, looking down at you. “Maybe I am foolish, to have thought it that way. Yet I still don’t understand why you’re…”
“What, little princess? So mean?”
You just look down again, quiet, swallowing visibly, you smell too good, invading his fucking senses. “I didn’t think you were mean when I met you as a child.”
“As a child?” Satoru pauses, and you sigh, shaking your head.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember, I’m not very special.” You step back as the song ends, and your tragic eyes meet his, before lowering them and bowing a little bit. “Have a good rest of your evening, I’m feeling a little…” You look at the girl he’d just kissed. “Sick.”
When you rush off, politely excusing yourself, Satoru feels this sinking in his heart, questions simmering under the surface – what if he just was kind to you? What if he at least didn't make a fool of himself?
But he doesn't go after you, no that would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. The thing is, you're much better off without him. So he's dancing with women who make his family furiously whisper amongst themselves, and he just knows -
You will hate him, and you’re better off for it.
*****
You
You didn't expect a fairy tale marriage. Even marrying the man who is basically the ‘prince’ of all the families, all of the clans, the Gojo heir. You may as well be the ‘princess’ of your own, both of you promised as children to each other, knowing no love or match would come to anything.
This was it, your future, but you met him when he was just a little kid, he's two years older than you. His blue eyes and spiky white hair were enough to make your heart race, but mostly you noticed how sad those blue eyes were.
He wasn't mean then, he was kind and reserved, not boisterous, laughing and acting a fool. He was cautious more like you are, both of you not wanting to disappoint your very harsh parents who had so many expectations. Satoru had given you his hand, holding it tightly, pressing a little kiss on the back of it.
So you'll be my wife some day
Yeah…
You're um… pretty.
That was it, just a moment and then he'd had to run off. And you only saw Satoru in bits and pieces, here and there from afar, watching and knowing he didn’t notice you. Yet that moment gave you hope.
Just to fucking crush it all.
It's your wedding night, and his staff is carrying all of your luggage inside the expensive mansion. Satoru is drunk, you notice he is around you, as if that helps with the pain of having to be married to you, stumbling just a bit and chuckling darkly when you try to help him.
“I'm fine,” he yanks your hand off like you burned him. Your tummy is in knots, you feel sick. “Let me show you your room. Princess.”
He says it always mockingly, tonight you know he was with someone again, he's made no attempt to hide kissing others. You're sure he probably does more, but you're innocent yourself so you don't exactly know what's what. Your parents pounded innocence and propriety in your head.
You'll be Gojo’s wife, you must be pure for him.
What a joke, really, to be pure for someone who will never want you, to watch him kissing on necks in the gardens, laughing until he sees your face. You never have been a very confident girl, but everyone has always told you that you're pretty, lovely, so you sort of didn't think your looks were an issue.
Then again, it could just be you. Maybe you're boring, maybe you're too proper. Your mind wracks with doubts as he leads you up the winding staircase of the Gojo mansion up to a dark hallway. He opens a door and you pause, breath catching in your throat at how beautiful it is.
“This is our room?” You ask softly, the blue silk bed and gossamer canopy snug in a room of soft whites and blues. He chuckles, making you look at him.
“They had it made for us, pretentious isn't it?” You blink a bit.
“I think it's beautiful,” it's quiet when you step in, still in your beaded and saying white wedding gown. You slip off your veil and take a breath. Looking in the mirror.
You look gorgeous today.
No matter what he says or doesn't say, you see it in that reflection. In your lashes, in your eyes, in your lips, painted a pretty crimson. Your body is showcased to perfection, modest but still sensual, just hints of your lines and curves outlined, the material glinting in the soft light.
“Your room,” he says at the doorway, and you pause, making him smirk. “You didn't think we were fucking did you?”
You blush furiously, looking down nervously at your hands entwined in front of you. “I did think we would… make the marriage official even if you don't find me attractive.”
It's dead silent, lingering in the air – your insecurities rampant.
“Why? Because our duty?” He asks, stepping inside, his dress shoes echoing on the floor, coming to stand behind you, reflection in the mirror making you tremble.
“We will need to have babies, it's expected of me. Or I'll be… a failure as a wife.” Your voice breaks, and for a moment you see blue eyes soften, you feel fingertips slipping over your straps, yet they halt, and his eyes narrow.
“I won't fuck you, not for duty or expectations, fuck them and fuck that.”
It's like a slap to the face. You take a breath, trembling now. “Gojo, am I that displeasing really? I tried so hard to look-”
“Nothing will make me fuck you,” he murmurs coolly. “We will ride this shit out till I find a way to end it somehow.”
“End it?” your brows draw together, eyes swimming in unshed tears, his fingers slip off now, going to your back, slowly undoing the little rows of buttons methodically.
“An annulment, divorce, whatever… fuck this shit, I'm not staying married.” he is casual as he helps you out of your dress, knuckles tracing up your spine, then he smirks. “Oh shit. You want me? Hah… that's cute.”
“I… um… you…” You're flushed, reflection in the mirror blushing, as you look at him, his cruel smirk, his mean eyes. “Am I not supposed to want you?”
“Of course you do, I am Satoru Gojo,” he presses those straps down, pausing when he gets a view of your breasts as you hold the dress against them, your back exposed and bare. “You can always touch yourself and think of me, who am I to deny that? But I will never touch you.”
It's like he just stabs you in the stomach. You turn, facing the cruel, tall man now, on the night you hoped for something, anything, but you're just met with a mean curve of his lips. “So what, you'll just… fuck anyone but me?”
“You can cuss?” He laughs a bit, fingers curling along one of the carefully coifed ringlets.
“Yes, I can. I just don't usually,” you take a breath. Trying to remember.
Obey him.
Treasure him.
For your family
“You don't know me and you won't even try to, will you?”
“You want dick that bad, huh?” You gasp, slapping him as hard as you can then, he winces and rubs his cheek, glaring at you. You falter, looking at his pink cheek and gasping.
“I'm sorry. I…”
“Let's get one thing straight, princess,” Satoru Gojo leans over you, an arm on either side, tilting his head as you grip your wedding dress tightly to your chest. “We can do our own things. I get it. You have to live here for now.”
For now.
“But don't you dare fucking hit me,” he grips your wrist, bruising with his long fingers, you gasp out at the pain, tears falling. “Not used to men not wanting you, huh?”
“What!?” You're blinking in confusion, his grip tightening, your heart sinking.
You feel so sick.
“Never been turned down because you're the family princess, aww. So cute,” he leans down, touching your cheek, eyes a cruel bluee. “Everyone after that money, after a chance with you, so special. Well you're not fucking special to me, we are just the same.”
“I don't think I'm special or anything!? I never said that.”
“Don't have to, I can just see it.”
You're shaking in his hold. “I just thought we could try, you don't even know if we have anything, a connection or-”
Gojo laughs at you.
He laughs.
“Try what, fucking you? You want my dick real bad.”
“No!? Just if we could feel a connection? I… like you haven't kissed me, how do you even-”
Satoru grabs your face, leaning low and pressing his lips against yours, capturing them and making you lose your breath. You melt when his plump lips work yours, when a hand comes to entangle in your hair, your hands slipping off your dress so that your nipples hit the cool air.
His tongue slips in your mouth, exploring the recesses with far too much finesse, hot and drooling as he presses you against the hard wood of the dresser.
You've never kissed.
You try to move your tongue back, knowing you're awful at it, your arms slipping around his neck. He's mean, he's cruel, but you want to try, you want to have this. Feel whatever this dizzy sensation is, one of his hands gripping your breast as he pulls back, lips glossy, eyeing them now.
“I'll give you this,” he murmurs softly. “You have perfect tits.”
“Um…” You're stammering again, whimpering when his thumb brushes your nipple.
“Perfect posture, pretty face, nice little body. It's not enough though sweetheart," he pulls back now, grinning and crossing his arms as you just stand there. “There, your kiss, and there's nothing between us. Is there? Enough to shove that fantasy out of your head?”
Nothing!?
“You think keeping your tits out will make me hard?” You gasp, covering them up, blinking back more hot tears.
He wipes his lips with his thumb. As if to remove the kiss from his memory. You look down, pain making you dizzy – deep pain.
“I just… you’re so sure that this won’t work that you’re not trying!” He laughs softly, without humor.
Charming. Handsome. Cruel.
Satoru’s two fingers brush down your collarbone and across it, a mean smile on a devastatingly pretty face as he watches goosebumps dance across your skin. "You want me to touch you. Hmm?"
"I just…" you cover yourself with your arms now, suddenly so insecure, you were anyway but this was more. It was worse, having the man you've been infatuated with since a kid turning you down, on a night you felt so beautiful. "I just thought we could try to find some common ground, to maybe make this work. Become… more?"
He leans down, his sweet breath against your lips, tickling them as his blue eyes glitter, cold like the most beautiful sapphires, and just as hard, there’s no emotion in their depths. So cold you shiver, swallowing nervously.
"Oh sweetheart, I don't want any of it. What they tell me to do, what they expect, no... I'll burn it all to the fucking ground, and them with it.”
“Burn it to the ground?” Your whisper is soft, his lips curve mean when he grips your chin.
"You're a pretty girl, but I'm not for you. That's the most you're getting from me.”
Not. For. You.
"What is so wrong with me?” You hate how desperate you sound.
Was this who you are?
Do you know yourself outside of becoming Satoru Gojo's wife?
“It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “You just don’t seem to get it, little princess. It’s an inconvenience, this entire thing.”
Great.
You’re just a fucking inconvenience to your ‘husband’.
“We will let them think we're good for a year, maybe two. Then I'll get out of this, you should thank me really, it's not like you chose it either.”
He turns now, leaving you close to collapsing, with the pain, with the casual cruelty. “Satoru…”
“Don't fucking call me that,” he snaps, looking back at you. You step back and bump into the elegant dresser, shaking as he looks at you with such hatred. “You don't get to call me my first name.”
“I am… I am sorry if I messed something up. If I did something wrong…” You're sniffling your tears, trying to keep it together. “I haven't even kissed before and I probably am just bad at it. Just give me a chance to-”
“Stop trying,” his voice is softer, like he fucking feels bad for you. That's worse than his cruelty – pity. “Just keep to yourself and I will too, until I find a way out of it. It's useless to try.”
“Useless to?”
“Sweetheart,” his tongue is honeyed, a lilt to his voice. “I'll never want you.”
The knife in your heart?
Twisted.
“Oh, I see…” You take a breath, just nodding then, hands gripping the beaded material so tightly they ache.
Obedient.
Sweet.
Serve your husband.
It's what you were trained to be, a traditional wife who follows her husband's orders, even your stinging palm was beyond what you're used to. How can you serve a man that doesn’t want you, how can you obey someone when their only order is for you to quit trying?
As he walks out, with just one look over his shoulder before he shuts that door, leaving you alone in the room on your own in tears on your very wedding night… how can you act like that kiss meant nothing to you? How can you not sink down on that bed all alone, and sob.
The boy you fell in love with doesn't remember you.
Doesn't want you.
No, he hates you.
And you'll have to endure this and be a failure to your parents, the worst of all your fears.
You don't stop sobbing until dawn breaks into the windows.
*****
Gojo
It's been a month of having you in his home, you're trying to be so perfect too. Dinner ready every night, you sit there and wait for him, smiling so pretty, wearing some new outfit as if he will ever touch you again, trying to talk to him, to get to know him.
Satoru can't stand you.
All you do is make him want to end it quicker, so that he has no feelings in this. No amount of slutty little slips or lingering before bed time is getting him to consummate the marriage, to give in to what his family and elders shoved on him, controlling his entire life.
Nah fuck that.
Satoru is balls deep inside his secretary right now, condom dripping with her cum as he lets her bounce up and down his latex covered cock. He leans back and moans as she works him like a pro, bouncing her ass and letting it jiggle under the shoved up pencil skirt.
Of course he thinks of you, fists his cock to images of those tits, imagines those lips around his tip. All the more reason to not fuck you, imagine if he did? You were a virgin, probably would lay there and not know how to do shit, you could barely kiss him back.
He'd have to be all gentle, not slam you down and bottom out like he could right now. She's moaning, too loud, he has to slam a hand on her mouth, lips against her ear.
“We're at work,” he reminds gently.
“Sorry Mr. Gojo. Mnh!” Satoru's big hands work her up and down, bottoming out as she cums, covering her own mouth as she screams out.
“Hah, so messy,” he taunts, she's squirting all over his Armani slacks, right when the door opens.
Fuck.
Did he not lock it?
He pauses, and its…
You.
You quickly shut the door and turn away, as his secretary gasps, panicking and lifting up. Satoru drags her back down, eyeing you.
“Wife,” he teases, you turn to look at him, lunchbox in your hands. “Didn't expect you at my work. Can I cum real quick, then we can talk?”
You say nothing, obedient little thing that you are, not an ounce of fire in you aside from a little smack. He supposes that's how you were raised, how boring really, but he shoves the woman down once more. Toying with her clit and making her moan in front of you, right as he busts in that condom, groaning softly.
“Fuck, there we go,” he taps her and she hops off, giggling when she tugs her skirt down, rushing past you.
“Mrs. Gojo.” she says, you just step back and nod.
“Hello.”
‘Hello’ is what you say, to the woman who'd been riding your husband's cock?
He tosses the condom in the trash under his desk, sighing and smirking over at you, when you turn and see him, still hard and covered in milky seed, turning back around again.
“I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry?” He demands, slipping his boxers up now. “I was fucking someone and you're sorry?”
“I should have called first,” you turn back again, as he zips up, cheeks tinged pink.
You look beautiful today.
He wouldn't tell you. But you do.
“I was just… I learned to make sushi? I was so bored lately. Then… they kind of look ugly? But they're um… yummy and-”
“Just stop, fuck,” you look at him, tears in your eyes, clenched fists at your side when he takes the bento box. “Stop trying so hard, it's not gonna happen.”
“Gojo-”
“Stop, don't hurt yourself more.”
“But why am I so… why would you never ever want me?” you whisper brokenly then. “I am not trying to be mean but her? She's not even… attractive!? I don't-”
He laughs at you again, shaking his head. “You are a spoiled rich girl, a mean little thing. Because she's not drop dead gorgeous I couldn't want her? Looks mean nothing really, little princess. It's just you who I don't want.”
Your breasts heave up and down, finally a glare on your otherwise sad little pretty face. “I am trying!”
“I don't want you to fucking try, constantly acting like the perfect wife. I don't want it. Don't want you, how clear can I fucking make it!?”
You step up to him then, tilting your head to look up at the tall, cruel man, lipstick on his fucking neck, smirking at you. “Well maybe I don't want YOU, but I fucking TRY.”
“Oh. You want me,” he tilts your chin up, grinning at you, feeling your skin hot to the touch. “Bet you're so desperate you'd lick her pussy off me. Wouldn't you? For a chance.”
“I would never,” you shake your head. “Fine, you win. I won't try anymore.”
“Good. It's for your own best interest,” he pats your cheek and smiles. “What's on your plans today, hmm little perfect wife?”
“Not making dinner.” he smirks at you again. “Not trying for you ever again.”
You rush out of the door, dejected, shoulders slumped, when you look back at him though?
That look.
Heartbroken, devastated, done for. Like you just lost all your goddamn will to live.
That one hurts.
Satoru was not cruel before you. Sure he was a dick, he played a lot, he was conceited, but to make you give up trying made him have to push you away. If even fucking in front of you didn't he had to push it further, and he thinks that's the moment you gave up on him.
It's for your own best interest to end this when he can, to be strangers.
Your eyes are burned in his brain as he opens your dumb bento box, and sees these pretty little Sushi. Shaped like little hearts with pink paper instead of the traditional.
He swallows down his guilt when he sees them laid out with a cup of soup, rice, a drink even. And a little note on pink paper.
He hates himself more when he opens it.
Gojo, I know you don't want me, don't want this, but if we could just try… I think there could be something, truly. When we kissed I did feel it, somewhere buried under the surface.
I know I'm not who you chose, or who you want, but I hope one day we could grow to like each other. I am trying my hardest and I just hope that it can be enough.
Have a great day at work, I will see you at home.
Tears slip onto the note, bleeding the ink through the paper, he looks at the shut door you'd walked out of, remembering your eyes..they'd always fucking haunt him. That look of defeat written all over them.
You were bringing him lunch and love notes when he was letting a secretary ride his cock.
“Mr. Gojo?” his assistant opens his door, and he pauses, looking up at her. “You have a two a clock.”
“Right…” He just stares at the sushi, at the note, before shutting his eyes, swiping off tears he hasn't cried since he was a little kid.
That night, no dinner is made by you. No it's the chefs as it should always be, but it's a sign, as is you not in that dining room waiting for him. He walks around the mansion, looking for you, for any sign that you're in his home.
Why does he care?
He hears your sobs from the room you are supposed to share, and rests his door on it.
Why did you have to try so hard, when he told you not to?
“He will never w-want me…” You're sobbing and hiccuping. “Never enough.”
He swallows down his own self loathing, resting his head on the door, wondering at just who he is. Is this Satoru Gojo, or is this Satoru Gojo trying to be anything else but what he's always been pushed into?
He walks off to his own room, shutting the door. He'd have to end this marriage soon as he can, in whatever way that meant – to get you the fuck away from him. You may hate him for it, but at least you'd have a little bit of a choice in your life.
*****
You
You come home from an event with Satoru, a press junket where you have to act like a happy newlywed. And you do just that, you play your role, giggling with his hand on your waist, the most contact you've had since that kiss – the one where he felt nothing for you. The one that you felt shaken from, suddenly fucking delusional, in spite of the fact of one thing.
Satoru Gojo made sure to let you know there was no chance, he didn’t mince words, didn’t lead you on, it was your own hope that made you keep trying that first month, that hope that even after seeing him with his dick inside a woman, maybe he’d feel anything. Fuck, he made sure to cum before she got off of him, didn’t even stop mid fuck.
That’s how unimportant you were.
Yet even then you tried, until he made that disgusting comment – licking another woman off him? Calling you pathetic?
Well, you were.
You were not going to be cruel to him despite the rage in your heart, however, you just no longer try, it’s quiet when you take off your heels at the door, and he slips off his dress shoes. You both say nothing, but you feel his eyes on you at times, as if he expects some word out of your mouth.
You no longer say good morning, good night, you just live your life with Satoru for another month like this, he’ll have a girl over in his room, but you keep to yourself, living so alone… yet, with him.
Your few friends you have get worried for you, every time you get to see them over the next couple months you look more tired, you don’t look like you’re eating, you have dark circles under your eyes, the eyes that don’t glimmer any longer. They share their concerns quietly, over a nice brunch, but you act like everything is just fine.
Tonight your mother had pulled you aside, making sure to dissect your looks to a fault, including said dark circles – As if you didn’t have enough insecurities just being married to Satoru Gojo, a man who’d fuck anyone but you.
“You have to keep yourself together, look he’s all over those women,” she whispers, you would laugh but you know better, the woman who beat submission into your head was right here. You just look down, nodding.
“He always is.”
“So you need to get his attention,” you sigh, wanting to explain how hard you tried, even in lieu of him fucking that secretary in front of you, but you merely nod once more. “Get yourself together, you look like you haven’t slept in a week, your hair is oily even. What’s wrong with you!?”
What’s wrong with you?
You peer over to your tall, white haired husband surrounded by women in the ridiculously extravagant event, glamorously dressed when you chose a thin silk number, not caring anymore. You didn’t do your makeup, what did that matter? It’s not as if he’d ever look at you anyway.
“You’ll make him look bad, make us all look bad, you must gather yourself together and try more. Have I not raised you to be the perfect wife?”
The perfect wife.
To a husband who hates you.
“You did indeed Mother,” you manage to say, clearing your throat that night, feeling the eyes of so many curiously flit between you both. “I shall try not to disappoint you and father.”
Yet you are done trying, as he asked you to be, walking up the stairs now with him slowly trailing behind, as if to make sure there was enough space between the both of you.
Try a gym!
Or a spa day?
You need self care babe!
Yeah, your friends advice about self care was not enough for what you’re going through, but they ring in your head, as you head to your room, and reach around to try to unzip your dress. You curse, moving your hand in every which way, you then try to tug it up off you, but it’s half stuck with the tight material.
Fuck, you’re gonna have to ask him.
“Gojo…” You say, standing by his door, he’s up typing away on the laptop, shirtless, his body cut and chisled, muscles moving as he sits up straighter, eyeing you carefully.
“You, coming to my room?” You flush furiously, looking down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll never, ever ask to be intimate again,” you whisper, the pain still piercing your heart, your soul. He just looks down. “I just really can’t get out of this dress, and I swear to god it’s not a hit on or seduction.”
“Ah,” he doesn’t gloat like usual, standing up now, his sweats falling down his hips, you wish he didn’t look so good like that, coming up to you carefully, everything flexing as he walks. “Zipper stuck?”
“I think so, and it won’t go up over my damn hips,” you grumble, when he comes closer. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize constantly,” you just nod again. “Turn around.”
You do that, lifting your hair off the nape of your neck for him, two of his fingers grasp the metal zipper, slipping it down achingly slow, the noise loud in his quiet room, mixing with his own catch of breath. It’s quiet, a few tendrils falling against the nape of your neck, as the zipper jams just a bit, stuck in the middle.
“Hang on…” He mumbles, clearly irritated, holding the dress tight together and then grasping it, jerking you just a bit as he finally gets it down. “There.”
“Thank you, Gojo,” you say softly, as he looks at the smooth expanse of your back, and for a moment neither of you move, you turn to face him, still holding your hair up. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”
He doesn’t say anything, knuckles brushing down your spine lightly, enough to make you ache in your core, something you’ve never really felt before this moment. You swallow nervously, blushing and looking away, you can’t make a fucking fool out of yourself again.
You will not push something he clearly doesn’t want, it’s just not right – even in the name of ‘marriage’ it should be Satoru’s choice too, and he so clearly would never choose you, in any world. You turn now, straps slipping down your shoulders, his bright blue eyes get dark and lidded when his gaze hits your tits, the tops of them showcased with the little dress half off.
“I’ll let you um… sleep.” You say, he just blinks a moment, clearing his throat now.
“Yeah.”
You slowly walk out, wondering if it is just you looking for something, anything, the way you damn near begged him to notice you, to want you, it was as he said – pathetic. Even knowing he’s fucking women actively, that he doesn’t have the time of day for you at all, you still crave it, you still don’t retaliate.
His phone rings, and you hear him murmuring while you’re in the hallway –
Hey sweets, hmm… I bet you do miss me.
You feel your feet get heavy, you’ve been barely eating because you’re just fucking miserable, but hearing that as his door shuts and you walk to your lonely room sinks in. The miserable realization that he doesn’t care about you, that even if he gave you a glance, it was nothing, you were nothing to him.
You slip that dress off when you’re in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, even just his proximity always put a blush to your cheeks, as if your body was betraying your mind. You remember what your friends told you the other day, their concerned gazes, and the way they tried to be supportive when they barely know the half of what you endure.
Having to hear your husband jerking it on the phone and talking another girl through it when he has never touched you?
You are tired of crying, so tired.
You look up gyms in the area, sure that’s not really going to help a damn thing, but it might be enough to keep you busy, considering you can’t even work as a Gojo wife, and you’re left alone too often in the quiet, thinking too much. You pick one and map it, while laying in your bed and snuggling, yawning a bit as sleep starts to drag you under.
“All right, let’s see if self care will help me at all,” you say to yourself quietly, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, as you have been.
What’s there to dream about anymore?
*****
Sukuna
His knuckles are aching from hitting the big heavy black bag, punching it over and over, his class is done but Sukuna always loves to blow some steam off, and the best way is to beat the bag to a pulp. His ruby eyes are locked on the target, exhaling and controlling his breathing.
One, two.
One, two, punch.
Cross, jab, hook.
It’s methodical, it’s easy, even as his muscles ache – that ache is sweet, it’s so perfect to feel, he grins as he imagines beating the fuck out of so many people then. Start with his shit father – his mother gets a pass only due to being a woman – and then, all the little pretentious shits he went to college with.
Sukuna was supposed to be training to become a CEO, to take over his father’s position, and be a nepo baby like the rest of those damn men he partied with at the frat in college. Yet, he never, ever wanted that, and he built something for himself – several gyms, he’s trained pro boxers, national champions.
This was what Sukuna wanted to do.
Mostly, he loved to box, he cared just a little bit enough not to join those matches himself – oh, what would that look like!? The Sukuna heir going into a boxing ring!? Yet, at the same time, he had dreams of it. Of being in a ring and knocking everyone out, pushing that ‘family disappointment’ name even further.
For now, however, there is peace in the quiet gym.
That is, until you walk in.
Tired and fucking beautiful, these dark circles that sit under your eyes, a shy little nervous smile, about five minutes before he closes. You stand at the door and look around, frowning then and staring at your phone, wearing some pretty little yoga outfit and a big sweater, like you were getting ready for pilates rather than kickboxing.
“I’m sorry, first off for coming so late, second… ugh I thought you were a regular gym! Where is my brain…” You smack your forehead, turning, when he literally runs up to you, stopping you before fully thinking of it.
Sukuna, running.
You really are that pretty, when he sees a giant rock on your finger he curses internally, sighing.
“I do other things here, a whole room of workout machinery,” he says then, his voice just a little gruff, when you turn and look up at him, so shy, you look right back down at your feet, hugging yourself a bit. “I can show you, just need to lock up.”
“You probably want to get home, god I’m sorry, I slept all day like a miserable… oh… so sorry.” You have said sorry again, rambling now, making Sukuna wonder.
Just who has you this down? This shy? This clearly hurt?
“I meant to come earlier,” you blink back tears, looking up again with them swimming in your pretty eyes, so pretty he can’t decide what color they are, but the way they look at him almost takes him out. “I set an alarm, and promised I would make myself do something, then I just… hit it over and over. And now I’m rambling.”
“And crying,” he smirks a bit, swiping off a tear. “Rambling, crying, coming in late too, huh?”
“I know I’m so-”
“I’m teasing,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head and tilting your chin up. “If you want to do any sport, you need eye contact. Even when they’re all red and bloodshot.”
“Well your eyes are red too! I mean, oh my god!?” You cover your mouth, he laughs again softer this time. “I’m sorry, I like their color, they’re beautiful. Not to say I am hitting on you! Oh dear god…”
“Will you take a breath?” You shut your eyes, nodding. “A deep one, in… there you go, and out.”
Your breasts rise and fall, the sweater slipping further off a shoulder, as he takes in the mess that’s come to his doorstep – a beautiful, tragically broken mess that does something he can’t explain. When you swipe your cheeks and try to give a tremulous smile, you break whatever heart Sukuna has in his chest.
Who fucking hurt you like this?
Damage recognizes damage, but this…
“Don’t apologize a fourth time, yeah?” You nod then, sniffling a bit and attempting a better smile.
“I really just want to… apparently I need self care, my friends say, and I thought a gym might… help. But I can’t box, or kickbox.”
“Why not? You've got a lot of pent up tension," his hands brush down your shoulders softly, feeling the tenseness. "Bet you’d kill it."
"Me!?" You giggled nervously but he was serious, a huge handsome man crossing his arms and raising a brow, leaned back a bit in the quietness of his gym. "Kickboxing, huh?"
"Think you can't?"
You shake your head, and he sees it all over your face –
You don’t think you can do anything.
“Why not? Husband wants you all girlie or something?” He addresses the ring with a glance, you laugh without humor, your face darkening then.
“He doesn’t give a shit what I do, no, we’re not,” you trail off, shaking your head. “I dumped enough trauma on you just walking in here. What’s your name?”
“Sukuna,” he takes your hand, feeling yours just a little sweaty in his grip. “What do you mean doesn’t give a shit?”
“He doesn’t like me.” He blinks at that.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Let’s say he’s done more with his secretary than me so far,” Sukuna frowns at that, raising a dark brow. “It’s okay, really don’t feel bad for me. I just need something to get my mind off it.”
Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?
He almost says it, but he holds back, nudging his head now. “Lemme show you around the gym.”
He locks the door behind you so no random people try to come after hours, and you follow him through, looking up at the ceiling – it’s high, wooden beams running across it, it was once an old factory before Sukuna bought it off the guy. The walls are all red and orange brick, some of it is painted white, with graffiti art.
“That’s so cool,” you murmur, walking up to it then, touching it gently. “What is all of this?”
“Some of the guys like to come tag it,” he says, there are all sorts of images scrawled, along with Sukuna’s name in big red letters, little demon horns over the U. “I think they’re callin’ me the devil.”
“No!” You laugh, the sound so foreign to your own ears, he can just tell when you sober up a bit, smiling gently now. “You, the devil?”
“Mmm, you don’t know shit about me yet,” you blush a bit at the insinuation. “You’d run out if you knew what I was thinking.”
“You don’t have to be so… nice to me, okay? Because you feel bad.”
Sukuna blinks his pink lashes. “Huh?”
“I can tell, you’re a really good person,” you walk up to him, touching his hand now, sucking in a breath at the contact, fingers tracing his calloused, beat up knuckles. “Thank you though.”
“You think I’m pretending to find you attractive?” He almost can’t take you serious, but your face says it all. “Yeah, no, I’m not that nice. Now follow me before I say something real fucking dumb.”
You’re a flustered mess, letting your hand fall and nodding.
“This is where you’d like to be,” he mentions, toward the room with all of the normal equipment – treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, all sleek and black. “So you can just do your normal little workouts. Yoga mats and all.”
“Oh! I see,” you’re just a step behind him, he can inhale that perfume, he doesn’t know what scent it is but it’s driving him insane, when he stops and you bump into him. “Ah!”
He catches you quickly, frowning a bit at how weak you seem, assessing you. “You eat anything today?”
You blink a bit.
How'd he notice?
“No.”
“It’s six?”
“Yeah, not for a couple days,” you mumble. Sukuna glares at you, far, far too attractive and you’re not even fucking eating.
“If you have some… problem, you gotta tell me if I’m gonna train you, yeah?”
“No, nothing like that, just can’t eat when I’m sad,” your words are soft, barely over a whisper, running your fingers along the arm of a treadmill. “It’s been a few days I guess.”
“A few days, the fuck?” What sort of husband lets his wife just not eat?
He supposes the kind that makes her an unconfident, sad girl that cries the moment she enters a gym. Sukuna knows damn well he shouldn’t get involved in the shit, but just looking at you hurts him, in a way he’s not sure he’s felt, recognizing a version of himself so long ago, when he was young, when he wanted that approval, when he craved it so badly.
But more than that.
“If you don’t eat tomorrow I’ll be shoving food in your mouth,” you laugh at that, covering your mouth again. “I’m serious, the fuck you mean days?”
“I will make myself eat before I come.”
“And you’ll come at a decent time, yeah? Not before I close. Do I need to set three alarms to get your bratty ass up?”
“Bratty!?” you laugh again, shaking your head, the sight so fucking cute it destroys him.
God he’d drop to his knees just to kiss up those thighs, fucking lick you right over those leggings, the ones just a little snug against your puffy lips. And he can tell when you’re close how excited you are, the way your pupils blow out, the way you bite down on that lower lip, the one already chapped from likely biting it to death.
“No one has ever called me bratty,” you muse softly. “The opposite, actually.”
“Well maybe they don’t see it buried all in there, under a cute little fucking yoga outfit,” he brushes your hair back. His mistake, his undoing, and not kissing you is maybe the hardest thing he’s done.
You’re married.
He’s trying to give a fuck about that.
“C’mon brat,” you giggle again. “Here is the ring.”
You pause, looking at the huge rectangular boxing ring, surrounded by mats, boxing bags hanging heavy and worn all over, red and black ropes surrounding it. “Is this where you all practice?”
“Mhm,” he leads you over to a bag, touching it, old and black and hanging, one of his big hands touching it now. “Tomorrow you’ll punch it, today you didn’t eat so you don’t get to.”
“Mean,” your lips twitch though, the color to your face just brighter, your eyes glittering. Fuck you’re pretty sad, and happy, he can only imagine more. “All right, I promise, full breakfast.”
“Eat some dinner, too, then I’ll let you kick it.”
“The bag?”
“No, me.”
“What!?” You laugh again, Sukuna snorts and rolls his ruby red eyes, those pink lashes fluttering. “You’re joking, oh!”
“Yeah, a joke,” he tugs on that pony tail your hair is thrown in. “Two pm, don’t be late.”
When you’re gone he’s locking up, watching you slip into some bmw, waving a bit before you back up, wondering what’s this feeling in his heart, in his gut.
Sukuna loves women, he loves being inside them, pleasuring them, but he’s never just enjoyed making someone smile that much. Knowing you’re married should be a hell of a deterrent, whether he’s clearly a dick or not, Sukuna can’t just swoop in and be with married women.
Right?
Yet when he’s in bed that night, he finds himself throbbing, thinking of seeing your pretty face in pleasure. And he knows damn well whatever ‘morals’ he should have about it aren’t going to help him not make you feel good, in just any fucking way you need him to.
*****
You
“Never seen you eat so much,” Satoru murmurs when he walks in, lipstick across his neck, you’re downing some soup, realizing just how starved you were. “Have the chefs make something.”
“I just haven’t eaten in a week,” you say softly, Satoru’s eyes widen, then narrow a bit, while you dab at your mouth with a napkin. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“A week? What nothing here good, they can order anything.”
“I was too depressed,” the honesty is something you’d usually hold in, but something about meeting Sukuna today…
Everything about him.
The way he looked at you, that smirk was teasing, not cruel – he listened to you, he seemed to care, him a stranger. You know it’s nonsense, a man trying to be kind to a crying woman, but it meant a lot, even if that’s all it was. You’d walked in with a smile you haven’t had since you married him.
Satoru Gojo.
“A week? You can die from that shit,” he glares now, and you laugh, but this time it’s a mean little sound. “You think you can’t?”
“Sure, but what would you care?” You take a sip of the wine you’d poured, Satoru’s finest vintage, letting it dance along your tongue. “Wouldn’t it make your life easier if I did?”
His lips part, brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to fucking die, okay? Fuck.”
“You wouldn’t care,” you swirl the wine around, leaning back in the seat, eyes locked with the man you’ve tried so hard to make like you. To just come near you, to give you a chance. “I’m nothing to you.”
He says nothing in the quiet of the dining room.
“You didn’t notice.”
“Well, no I don’t eye your every move, figured you eat before I get home or some shit,” he runs a hand through his silky white locks, eyeing you carefully. “Do you want them to order something specific? Just because me and you will never be anything, doesn’t mean I want you to starve in my fucking house.”
“Nah, I like everything they have here,” you finish the wine in a gulp, an unladylike one that makes Satoru raise his brows, standing then, sighing. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t stop crying, when you constantly feel sick to your stomach knowing the man you live with hates your existence.”
You walk up and he says your name, you pause and look back at him. “I never said don’t eat, yeah?”
“No, you didn’t. But her lipstick is all over your neck, and up on that collar,” he touches it then, looking at the crimson on his pale fingertips. You step up to him, so close you inhale that scent. “Can you buy your sluts some decent fucking perfume, aren’t you rich?”
“What the fuck!?” You smile, you’ve never cussed, but it feels amazing in that moment, seeing him sputter. “What are you going on about, and what’s got your ass so fucking peppy?”
“Their knock off perfume, it’s all over you, every night. Buy them some Chanel or something, yeah? Not like you have to buy me anything, I have my own money. The scent makes me nauseous,” you turn again, Satoru grips your wrist, making you pause for just a moment, shutting your eyes.
Nothing, he feels nothing.
“Thought you didn’t cuss?”
“You don’t know me and you don’t want to.”
He lets you go, no argument, just quiet.
“I’m starting training at the gym,” you mention quietly. “I’ll be going there tomorrow.”
“Some yoga class?”
“Boxing.”
Satoru blinks, you just smile, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “You? Boxing?”
“Mhm, good night Gojo.”
You head up the stairs to your room, falling back on the bed, shutting your eyes, feeling good for the first time since that engagement party, for the first time in months there was something brimming under the surface. Some sort of hope.
Tonight you don’t hear him moaning, or talking to his girls, it’s quiet, and you’re thankful, shutting your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.
You’re haunted by two sets of eyes, two sets of hands, blue ones that are glaring, red ones that are hungry, long thin fingers choking your neck, suffocating you, thick ones painted black freeing you. Torn between them, claustrophobic in the darkness, where all you can see are their eyes.
You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, holding your racing heart, thrumming against your palm, before you fall back asleep, and there is only one pair of eyes.
And they’re red.
Tysm AGAIN for 30k my loves <3 this will be a doozy
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass🍷
Caleb was a constant, grounding presence. He was off on a mission when you let yourself into his house. But since coming home, he hasn't left your side once. Even before you told him of your condition, he was insistent on taking care of you like always.
And after you told him? If you thought you were spoiled before, think again.
Of course he teared up when he found out you were expecting, but he will deny it if you ask.
Caleb, to his credit, didn't push you for details on what happened between you and Rafayel. But he was a smart man, and you don't doubt he must've figured it out between the various news articles and media coverage.
You only texted Rafayel once to let him know that you were safe, but haven't answered any of his texts or calls since then.
You weren't ready for whatever came next.
Blame the hormones, mercury being in retrograde, whatever. But you weren't emotionally prepared to go back to him yet.
Luckily, you didn't have to think that far with Caleb.
You didn't have to stress or worry about anything with Caleb, he made sure of that.
The first few days, you were a mess. Morning sickness had kicked in (which is a total lie because it doesn't happen just in the morning), and Caleb very nicely held your hair up and rubbed your back.
Caleb always had your back, that would never change.
Something in you had eased, shifting around to let you breathe again. And while you still felt anxious for whatever fate had in store for you and Rafayel, you took comfort in Caleb's presence.
Caleb would always be there for you, he made sure you knew that.
.
Rafayel didn't like to do many interviews for the media, Thomas usually had to bribe him to do one every few months or so. And yet recently, it does seem like he has accepted almost every interview request from almost every news outlet. You saw his face everywhere.
Every channel you flipped to, every article you scroll past on your timeline, every magazine had his face on it somewhere.
You'd think he was trying to tell you something, trying to reach you. But you brush that thought away.
"So tell us about your wife Rafayel, most of us didn't know you were married!" The interviewer laughs, clapping a hand on Rafayel's shoulder.
You huffed out a breath in annoyance. The show you were enjoying ended and cut to another reporter interviewing Rafayel.
The interviews were endless. Yet somehow they were always men, you had yet to see him interviewed by a woman. You wonder if that was intentional (it was, but you don't know that).
"Happily married, I will add." Rafayel winks at the camera. You roll your eyes, itching to change the channel. But you don't.
"Very well then, happily married. But if that's the case, then what is going on between you and Rita? She seems to have some strong feelings for you."
"Nothing is going on between Rita and I. We worked closely together over the past few months for the exhibition, yes. But absolutely nothing happened. I'm not sure how Rita got the impression that we were together, but it is completely unfounded." He spoke firmly. No waver or hesitation in his voice.
"Well, she had to get the idea from somewhere. You can't think of any instance where she would've...you know...gotten the wrong idea?"
"No." The answer was immediate, leaving no room for argument. Even the interviewer seemed taken aback by his intensity.
"Alright. I'm sure plenty of women throw themselves at you though, don't they?" The interviewer chuckles.
"I don't care about other women. I don't care if they 'throw themselves' at me or not. I only see my wife, and I only care about my wife noticing me. I am a faithful man, and I will not intentionally entertain anyone else." Rafayel was looking straight into the camera now. You've always loved his eyes, how couldn't you? They were so pretty, so expressive.
Now they were intense, determined. But you knew to look deeper, and you saw the desperation that hid underneath.
Your breath hitched. You knew he was sorry from the (approximate) 117 text messages he sent you. But seeing him so earnest made you start tearing up.
Because that was your Rafayel again. Not the one who blew you off for work. Or the one that came home late everyday. Not the one you barely saw while living with him. Or even the one that forgot your birthday.
No, he looked like the Rafayel you knew before.
The one that would give Thomas the lamest excuses to skip work in order to spend more time with you. The one who would buy you your favorite takeout and stop by randomly because he missed you.
The one who bought you flowers every week. Not just roses, but your favorite flowers, because he remembered. Because he wanted to make you happy.
The one who pouts when you cuddle your plushies because he's jealous. ("I'm right here cutie, what do you need that for?")
The one who cried on your wedding day, and then laughed when you almost tripped in the sand before catching you.
Your silly, dramatic fishie.
The man you married. The man you loved, and made you feel loved. The man who made you feel like you were enough.
Was he still there?
You hoped so.
.
Caleb liked protecting you. Even if you never knew the full extent of everything he did to keep you safe, he knew.
He toned it down when you got married. Sure, he kept tabs on you (like keeping your location and access to a few home cameras). But he didn't interfere as often as he used to, not with the small things anyways. He would always look after you for any major threats.
But taking care of you? It technically wasn't "his job" anymore. As much as it hurt to let that go.
It was Rafayel's.
But when he got your texts that you were on your way? He rushed his mission to get to you faster. When he came home to see you crying and throwing up? He mentally kicked himself for not being more vigilant, for not protecting you from this.
So he did what he knew best, taking care of you.
He brought you saltine crackers and water. Let you cry it out. And when you calmed down enough, he tucked you into bed and held your hand until you fell asleep.
And then he took your phone, unlocked it, and blocked Rafayel from seeing your location. The last message he sent him from his own phone was short and simple.
1:18 AM she's safe, she's with me.
It wasn't done from the goodness of his heart or to give Rafayel peace of mind per se, but because Caleb knew he would be going insane if he was in that position.
Of course, he wouldn't have done half the things Rafayel did if he was as lucky, but hindsight is always 20/20.
No, Caleb worshipped you. And maybe you only saw a fraction of it (he only let you see so much), but his devotion ran deeper than the blood in his veins. It was like you were written into his DNA, like you were hardwired into his very being. He didn't know how not to love you. Nor did he want to learn.
So when you told him you needed to make a doctors appointment, he didn't hesitate to offer to go with you.
Well, it was less of an offer and more of a declaration that he was taking you. No room for argument. He didn't have to be in the room for the exam (as much as he wanted to, he did respect your wishes), but he wanted to be there for you.
.
You were biting your nails. A bad habit you quit and pick up every so often.
You're sitting in the cold, sterile room. Alone.
Caleb brought you here, sat in the waiting room with you. Asked if you wanted him to join you. But you just didn't feel right inviting him in to see the doctor with you.
It was supposed to be Rafayel with you, seeing the ultrasound. If you invited Caleb in, you felt like you were robbing Rafayel of this experience with you. It felt like you were replacing him.
But as you looked around the room to distract yourself from your nerves, you found yourself craving something familiar. Craving Caleb's stability. The comfort of something you do know.
And as the nurse came in and asked if you were ready to begin, you nearly cried asking if they could let him in.
You hated that you gave in so easily, it still felt wrong to have Caleb here in such an intimate setting.
But as he held your hand firmly with one hand, stroking your hair gently with the other, you felt grounded. Steadied. You leaned into his touch, and exhaled some of the pain you were holding on to.
You breathed in lighter, easier.
You squeaked in surprise as the nurse rubbed cold gel on your stomach, hearing Caleb try to stifle his laughter.
You cracked a smile.
.
He never pried the pain away from you. (He would take it all and bear it himself in a heartbeat if you asked him to) But he stayed. He listened. He let you go through it all as many times as you needed to.
And the pain started fading, getting duller with every day. And it dislodged itself from you, from your heart, your lungs, your bones. You breathed it out, laughed it out, cried it out little by little.
.
But you still had a choice to make. Do you go back to Rafayel and try again, or do you stay with Caleb?
Do you stay with what you know is safe, or do you risk losing it all again?
If you try again with Rafayel, how do you know if things have changed? How do you know it won't happen again? What if, after rebuilding, your home comes crashing down again?
If you stay with Caleb, you would be safe. But you would be giving up on your marriage.
Of course you did, he was your husband of 3 years now, your everything. And if his wedding vows were anything to go by, you were his world too.
And yet you missed him, badly.
He was preparing for a new exhibition, one with another famous artist he spoke highly of. You loved to see his eyes light up when he talked about art.
But he started coming home later than usual, not noticing how late it was due to how immersed he got into his work. You loved him, and you loved how passionate he was. But he still came home later and later.
You didn't say anything because he meant no harm, he truly didn't mean to put you on the back burner. His work was a part of him, you didn't want to take away his creative outlet or make him feel like he had to sacrifice his work for you.
.
One day, you decided to bring him dinner at the studio. You missed him, and while it wouldn't be the first dinner he missed, you were sure he would be grateful you were thinking of him. He probably forgot to eat all day, too focused on his paintings and exhibition planning.
You let yourself in to the studio (he really should lock the door), calling out for Rafayel to announce your arrival.
You find him upstairs, admiring a piece with Rita standing next to him.
With Rita laying her head on his shoulder, holding on to his arm.
You freeze for a moment before clearing your throat. Rafayel turns to you, removing himself from her hold to welcome you.
"Cutie~! To what do I owe this visit?" Damn him and his pretty eyes.
You smile up at him, holding out the bag of food packed for him. "It's late so I brought you dinner, like the best wife ever." You teased.
His smile faltered. "Sorry cutie, Rita and I already had dinner earlier."
"Oh."
"Sorry! I would've sent him home earlier if I knew he had a curfew." Rita laughed, winking at you.
"No, it's fine! I'll just bring these back home. See you later Raf!" Turning on your heel, you left as quickly as you could.
It was nothing, but unease started pooling in your gut regardless.
.
You brought the leftovers to Solana, after confirming she hadn't had dinner yet. You wanted someone to enjoy the meal you made. And if it gave her one less thing to do today, at least you weren't worthless.
.
Rafayel was late again. He didn't wake up to his alarm, hitting snooze again and again.
You tried waking him up slowly, kissing down his face, his neck. You trailed your hands up under his pajama shirt, his skin heated against your cold fingers.
It was a Sunday, and you missed him. Surely he could take a day off or have a late start? (He's cancelled on Thomas more times than you could count so that you could have some...alone time)
It wasn't until you straddled his hips that he started to stir, gazing up at you through half-lidded eyes. He shifted under you, hands grabbing your hips.
You smiled down at him, excited to finally, finally have him to yourself, at least for a little while. You leaned in, kissing him with all the pent up energy you've accumulated these past couple of months.
He pulls away, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.
You freeze, worried you'd overstepped.
He jumps up from under you, pushing you away while cursing about being late to meet Rita at the studio.
As he runs into the bathroom, turning the shower on, you can't help but feel naked. Dismissed. Forgotten. Unimportant.
He wasn't even excited. Hell, it usually took him a lot less to get in the mood. But nothing.
You pull the sheets over yourself, feeling too vulnerable to unpack all at once.
The unease has settled deep into your bones now, you couldn't shake it off.
Was he not attracted to you anymore?
You stopped waiting up for him.
.
You're not sure what prompted the change, but he started coming home earlier.
Your birthday was this week, he insisted on going to the best restaurant to celebrate with you.
It was just enough to give you hope that this will blow over soon. The exhibition would be held in a month, and you would have your lovey dovey husband back.
So why were you still on edge? Why were you waiting for the other shoe to drop?
Maybe you got too used to the distance, to the silence.
You tentatively agreed to dinner. Kept your hopes in check, making sure you didn't raise them too high.
Still, you couldn't help but get excited.
You woke up on your birthday to find the other side of the bed already cold.
Not surprising, Rafayel was grumbling last night about having to be at the venue early with Thomas. ("Unsuitable work conditions" and "cruel and unusual punishment" he called it)
The day went on as usual, an influx of "happy birthday!" calls and texts and moments posts pinging your phone.
And yet, nothing from Rafayel.
.
You send Rafayel a handful of texts as you're getting ready that evening.
5:17 PM Should I meet you at the restaurant?
5:17 PM or are you going to come pick me up?
5:36 PM I'm on my way to the restaurant now, the reservation was for 6:00 right?
5:52 PM I'm here a bit early, they just sat me at the table. See you soon :)
5:54 PM The waiter kinda looks like Thomas, it's a little freaky haha
6:11 PM are you on your way Raf?
6:26 PM okay this isn't fashionably late anymore
.
7:39 PM I'm going home. Where are you?
You feel humiliated. But you also feel bad for the waiter, holding a table when he could've made more money on another couple. He was sympathetic, giving you basically a free meal (you took most of it to go, you didn't have much of an appetite). You leave a $100 on the table before he can give it back to you.
.
10:48 PM I'm staying in the guest bedroom tonight.
.
Still, no answer. You get ready for bed, bringing your charger and tomorrow's work clothes to the guest bedroom.
You lock the door before you go to sleep, wondering how your marriage got to this point.
.
You make yourself as busy as Rafayel is, sneaking out of the house to get to the Hunter's Association before he even wakes up.
You take on more missions, working yourself to the bone. If you're too busy to think, you can't fall apart, right?
You're tired, and everyone notices. Luckily, they mind their own business and don't say anything.
Until you faint from exhaustion at training.
Jenna sends you to the hospital to make sure you're okay, despite your protests.
You sit in the hospital bed, the bright lights giving you a faint headache. It's nothing you can't handle. But the thought of them calling your emergency contact has you more anxious than sitting in the silent, sterile room.
You don't want to see Rafayel.
.
And you don't. The receptionist tried to reach him, left him 3 voicemails with updates. They asked you if there was anyone else you could call to take you home.
You called Zayne instead. You feel bad bothering him, but he was your childhood friend and primary care doctor.
He takes a look at your discharge papers and pauses. Silence is not new from him, but this felt heavier than normal.
"You shouldn't be pushing yourself in your condition." His soft murmur confused you.
"What do you mean? You know about my heart condition, and cleared me for work."
"They didn't tell you." Not a question, a statement. You tilt your head, silently asking him to elaborate.
He passes you the discharge papers, pointing at the page he was on. "They did a pregnancy test, it's positive."
.
The drive to your house is in complete silence. Zayne can sense you have a lot on your mind, and thankfully doesn't push you to talk.
You thank him for driving you, promising to take care of yourself. As you walk through your front door, your phone buzzes with a text from him.
11:17 PM If you need anything, I'm here for you
11:17 PM I mean it.
You're grateful for his quiet support, and for the empty house that you have come home to.
.
You don't even see Rafayel anymore, and you don't hear anything from him for a couple of weeks. Until he sends you the exhibition information the week of.
You're finally about to get your husband back.
So why don't you feel excited?
.
You decide to tell him once you both come home from the exhibition night, hoping he'll be excited.
You take a positive pregnancy test, placing it in a gift bag with a "my dad is cooler than yours" baby onesie. You leave it on the dining room table for your return later.
.
You're more anxious than excited as you stand in the crowd, waiting for Rafayel and Rita to open the exhibition.
Taking peeks into the venue, you can't help but marvel at how well everything came together.
"Hello everyone! And thank you for coming to tonight's event." Rafayel's voice is strong and reassuring, the microphone projecting his speech to the audience.
Eventually, he hands the microphone off to Rita to say a few words. Thanking everyone for their support and donations, she goes on and on until-
"Oh! And thank you to Rafayel." She giggles. "For being my muse, my inspiration." The way she clings to his arm is making your eye twitch. "And I'm happy to announce that we are officially dating!" She squeals.
And then she kisses him.
Reporters begin taking photos, the bright lights making your head swim. Before you know what you're doing, you're already walking towards the exit.
Rafayel is dumbfounded. Well and truly shocked that he did not see this coming.
Snatching the microphone back, he tries to correct her before you leave.
"That is 1000% not true. We are not dating. I am actually veeeerrry happily married to my beautiful amazing wife y/n-" he can already see you at the door. "wait please don't leave I can explain-"
Now, while your marriage wasn't a secret, it wasn't public knowledge either. Rafayel didn't wear his ring often, claiming he didn't want to ruin it with paint.
The crowd turns, looking for who Rafayel's wife could be. You slip out the door before they can be disappointed.
.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
No answer, you sigh before texting Caleb.
7:12 PM I'm on my way to Skyhaven
7:13 PM not sure if you're on a mission, but you don't mind if I let myself in right? I just need a place to crash for a while, I'm sorry if you have plans.
7:27 PM I'm getting on the train now, I'll see you when I get there. Or whenever you get home.
.
Your leg won't stop bouncing. You're almost shivering, the dress you wore not providing much warmth on the freezing train.
You took a cab to Caleb's house, punching in the security code and letting yourself in. He hasn't responded to your texts yet, but you're sure the security cameras will let him know you're there.
You wash off your makeup, change into a pair of Caleb's oversized pajamas, and go to sleep.
.
[from glub glub]
7:21 PM cutie she's lying. Or delusional
7:21 PM I would never do that to you.
7:21 PM you know that, right?
7:22 PM I wouldn't
7:22 PM I love you
7:22 PM I need you
7:23 PM please say something
7:23 PM please come back, we can talk about this
7:24 PM I know I haven't been the best husband recently cuz of work but I would never cheat on you.
7:24 PM Never working with her again obvi
7:31 PM *missed call from glub glub*
7:35 PM did you go home? I'm going home as soon as Thomas lets me leave
7:59 PM *one attachment*
7:59 PM is this real????!!
8:00 PM *missed call from glub glub*
8:00 PM where are you?
8:00 PM at least let me know you're safe...
8:01 PM *missed call from glub glub*
9:34 PM I'll wait for you
.
1:19 AM I'll give you some space, but just know that 1. I would NEVER cheat on you. 2. I love you. and 3. I'm here whenever you're ready to talk or come home.
Idk just thinking about how Caleb would always talk boys out of asking you out so you would see all your friends going out on dates and wondering if boys think you aren't pretty enough. Bringing this up to Caleb who thinks you are out of your goddamn mind but he can't really talk you out of it since no one's shown interest in you (from your pov) and he can't exactly admit to scaring them off without making you mad.
Caleb (against every bone in his body telling him this is a bad idea and no boy is good enough for you) goes to a nice kid who recently asked for his blessing, but he denied and talked him out of asking you out (under the guise of "you have to focus on schoolwork kid"). Caleb (reluctantly) tells him he was a bit harsh and gives him his blessing to ask you out.
Caleb knows he's a good kid who wouldn't hurt you, but hates it all the same
You're over the moon when he asks you out, you finally got asked out! You go on a date, and then another, and another.
Until one day you overhear a conversation between your boyfriend and his friends. "How did you two end up together anyways? I thought you were going to focus on school?"
"Yeah well I was going to, but then her brother told me to ask her out and -"
Your ears started ringing, and you couldn't focus on any sound after that.
Caleb told him to ask you out? The one person who showed interest in you, did it because they were told to do it, not because they actually liked you?
Coincidentally after you told Caleb you were feeling insecure and left out after all your friends were dating.
On one hand, the rational part of your brain understands that Caleb was trying to help, trying to make you feel better. But the anger and embarrassment won out in the end. You tell him you don't want to go out with him anymore.
Caleb is used to you being angry, you've had your fair share of arguments. But when he sees you marching through the door with that familiar scrunch on your face, he knows he fucked up. He just doesn't know how much you know. But he finds out very quickly when you give him a piece of your mind.
You scream, you yell, you cry. You ask what on earth gave him the right to meddle in your life like this. Does he know how embarrassed and humiliated you were to find out that he had to tell someone to ask you out? Didn't you deserve better than that?
Caleb just sits there and takes it, he lets you get it out. He lets you scream, he holds you when you cry. And when you're done, he apologizes. He never meant for you to find out. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wanted you to feel wanted.
He tells you about all the boys that wanted to ask you out before, but he stopped. He tells you about that boy you went out with, who he convinced would be better off focusing on school. He tells you when he realized how much it affected you, how much you didn't know.
Of course, this doesn't help his case. It only makes you angrier, how could you do this to me? I thought you loved me?
"I do love you," he breathes out. "I was trying to protect you, they didn't deserve you. But you're too pretty, too funny, too kind. They noticed you too often, they had bad intentions," Caleb justified.
But you're tired of listening. You lock yourself in your room, ignoring Caleb's knocks at your door. You're sure he sleeps there, sitting outside your door. But you don't open it.
○ SYNOPSIS: After making it to university, you found yourself finding comfort in a cat café worker not too far from your lectures. The cute worker seemed to have a knack for making you fall for his charm. And, how could you not? Your chemistry was perfect- but you never thought that he had secrets and that Jungwon was your secret as well. As much as you two tried to keep everything behind the scenes, things don't always work out the way they should.
○ PAIRING: Boxer!Jungwon×fem!rich!reader
○ WARNINGS: fighting, so suggestive it's acc crazy, blood, classism? Self-doubt, profanity, I made one of the members a villain, cute, fluff, ANGST (Imao), boxer Jungwon (deserves a warning bc it's iconic af)
○ NOTES: Okay. I did it. Please enjoy. This took forever to edit, but hopefully, you all like it!! It's been in my drafts for too long. Ever since No Doubt came out, lmao😭. Thank you for everyone who asked to be on the taglist!! Please give feedback. I would love to hear it!! Okay, muah!
╰┈➤ LIKES, COMMENTS+ REBLOGS are appreciated!
○ WC: 21k+
○ ִֶָ࣪☾. [DREAM LIBRARY]
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AS A DAUGHTER OF A CEO AND A NURSE, YOUR PARENTS OFTEN PILED THEIR LANDSLIDE OF PRESSURES ONTO YOU. With you as the only child in their lavish home, their attention and lectures often find you daily, ready to exhaust your mind into another brainless talk.
But, it wasn't only your parents. It was also your lonely thoughts swarming your inner monologue like a bunch of pests.
Your parents, on the other hand, had you wrapped in their protective blanket, to the point where you were suffocating, not knowing when you could catch fresh air that wasn't supplied by them.
It wasn't easy per se. The studies that entailed your life had beaten you over the head and forced your eyes down to the textbooks and past papers. Those almost became your friends if you didn't scowl at them as much as you did.
Your parents were great, even if they flooded your head with reminders and words that you needed to become someone, anyone.
Anyone with money, of course.
That was the pinned priority. It was almost the only thing you wanted at the end of the destination. The end of the route was hopefully going to university for something in the medical field.
The light on your mother and father's face was the only thing keeping your vision on the set road before you. It was... exhausting. However, you worked through days, sleepless nights, calloused thumbs, and a lost appetite to get you a step closer to your supposed dream.
Getting accepted into that university wasn't as thrilling as you thought: the smile on your parent's faces, their boasts to your family didn't lift the anchor that had rusted in the pits of the ocean that was your mind.
It often felt as if you were drifting away from reality when classes started.
One particular day, you bunked the class by saying you needed the bathroom, when in reality, you sauntered right out the glass doors and onto the street.
Breathing the air without too many of your own classmates stitched your composure together again, and you found yourself wandering down the busy roads
You stopped when observing the mocha and brown lettered words on a cream sign. A cat café. Your feet moved on their own, pushing the door and placing your shoes in a slot on a black shelf.
The staff directed you to the room, and as you entered the main area, you spotted all types of feline friends lounging and sauntering around.
Swiftly moving in, you sat in a random spot, admiring the cats of all colours, the short and long furs—they were truly a melody, a soothing balm to your heated head.
And new potential friends that you could confide in and expect them to listen without a word of resistance. Oh, to live as a cat — carefree, jump as high as you want, and you could run away without consequences.
Oh, the dream.
A certain brown and black cat with a fluffy coat around its face approached you in your daydream, meowing quietly. The cream collar was engraved with "Belle." She was adorable, to say the least.
Her friendliness knew no bounds as she nudged her head into your hovering palm, rubbing her furry face.
For the first time in a while, you smiled, and one could argue that it sounded as if you were in the pits of depression—but you weren't. You were simply deprived of the quiet moments like this.
If you stayed a minute more in that damn lecture hall, you would have stabbed a pencil into their oh so precious desk.
Tentatively letting your fingers scratch beneath her chin, you heard another purr, her green eyes blinking slowly as she shifted her head to seek your comfort.
Her fluffy coat made you want to genuinely bite her—not hard, but maybe kiss her to bits until her paw warned you of her rising annoyance.
"Belle!? Where are you, girl..?" A voice called out that snapped your personal dream bubble.
When you glanced at the source of the voice, there was a young man with honey, golden skin, hickory eyes, and blonde locks resembling a cloud.
His wavy hair and feline eyes made your heart hitch a little. As if his presence hit you like a stone that your body didn't brace for. You weren't prepared.
Said man came over after realising that Belle was spending her careless time with you. Oh. He was coming over, and you're staring like a hawk. An idiot was a more fitting name.
Straightening your back, you glanced back at Belle and let your fingers fall away. The cat obviously protested, meowing—or whining—as her little face pecked at the hand on your lap.
The man slowed as he saw you, his fist holding something, but he was careful as he crouched before the feline. Right there, you noticed his veiny forearms, and you had to look away.
"She never comes out," he began saying, hand expertly rubbing behind her ear. A smile lifted your lips once more.
"I feel special," you said with a speck for amusement. He chuckled and nodded.
"I think you may be. She tends to hide in the dumbest corners. Kind of annoying," mumbled the man. His fists unfurled, and Belle's head perked to see the treats in his hand.
A long meow slipped into the air, her eager self padding to the worker (you assumed), and instantly munching. You could just combust.
For the cat, of course.
A smile graced those lovely, rosy lips of his, the other hand stroking Belle on her head encouragingly. In that moment, this man looked soft and warm. As if you were sitting near a furnace after a long, hard winter day. Something to melt the thick, icy anxiety wedged in your chest.
"She's adorable," you murmured, her tail snaking past your lap, wanting attention in all directions, it seemed. The man nodded and lifted his gaze finally.
They scanned your own, calculating but not intense at all. Then, he spoke. "I'm Jungwon, by the way."
A nice name that suited his perfect face, perfect dimples, and perfect voice.
Damn, what were you thinking? Internally scolding yourself, you nodded in acknowledgement with a small smile.
"I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you," you mumbled softly. The sparkle in his gaze shot by in the darkness of his eyes. Another smile.
"Pretty."
From that alone, you were ready to just bash your head into the wall to deal with the flusterment floating in your face. He said it so casually, delivering it with that deep voice of his that scratched your brain right.
Blinking profusely, your gaze averted to Belle, knowing your neck was burning, and the flames of shyness were reaching the apple of your cheeks as well.
"Thanks." You stroked Belle on her back as she munched contentedly on Jungwon's palm. He noticed your glittering eyes and the lashes fluttering on your cheeks.
Jungwon sat beside you, cross-legged and holding out his hand. "Do you wanna feed her..?"
Without a single thought from your frazzled brain, you nodded. Jungwon was pleased, an easy smile breaking out as he gently took your own left hand.
Even the warmth in his hand ignited all kinds of tingles in your fingers, making the heat constrict and hug your heart.
From his apron pocket, he picked out a few brown treats into your own palm, and Belle was instantly impressed.
Her furry face dug into your hands, licking up the treats, and you felt as if her silent sounds healed and patched up the stitches of exertion from the past couple of days. Who knew just a feline friend could soothe the craks in you?
"So, you work here..?" You asked the obvious question. Jungwon chuckled slightly, eyes fixed on your hand.
"Yup. Shifts are easy, and I get to talk to the cats instead of myself."
"You probably talk to yourself at home," you teased back.
"That's why I needed to work here. To hide it." Jungwon grinned, lifting those beautiful eyes of his. "But alas, my secret is revealed."
He was funny. Cute. You liked the way he easily loosened the stiff bolts in your muscles, as if it didn't take much effort.
You smiled, petting Belle behind her fluffy eyes, feeling somewhat content in the brief silence. Jungwon eyed the backpack slumped by your side and glanced back.
"So, you running away from home, or do you just have a lot of things in there?" He asked with mirth, eyes darting to the crumpled bag. Oh. That. A reminder of how you left class unattended and on impulse.
"Oh... that," you said with a forced chuckle, eyes focused on Belle rather than the beauty before you. "I bunked class."
"You're a student? Damn, you're devious," Jungwon remarked with a jab of amusement. You rolled your eyes and smirked.
"Very. It's the most I've gone against my parents," you said without thinking.
You instantly regretted it. You didn't plan to blurt that out and reveal the speck of the harsh expectations crushing you and all to a stranger. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment before opening them.
"So, rebellion?"
"That's a bit much," you mumbled with a slightly offended pout. Jungwon stroked Belle, fingers accidentally brushing yours, and your hand retracted sharply.
The tingle crazing up your arm was warm, uninvited, but made your heart pound just a little faster. He began to laugh at your comment.
"I guess so. You want to tell me why you're starting your rebellion?" He urged you on, meeting eyes again.
"It's not a rebellion!" You protested, and Belle's little face peered up at you, as if she was judging you for purposely making a wall of lies and denial. Jungwon and Belle waited, expectant.
Sighing, you began to unravel your life story as if it was a ball of yarn running away from you before you could catch it. All the way from high school to exams that opened up the gates to university until now to how dead you felt in class, taking a course for the sole reason of pleasing your parents.
It's not like your chosen health care course wasn't an enjoyable path—you chose that route because, yes—you did find something valuable in stem subjects, and found it bearable to endure the hurdles that came with it.
However, sitting in the lecture hall and typing, writing mindlessly on your convertible tablet, the energy had diminished like a candle nearing the end of its wax.
Jungwon listened, stroking Belle's back as she settled on his lap. No words slipped into the conversation, letting you pour your heart out to him, a total stranger.
When you finished, he let out a deep puff of air, as if he was exhausted for everything you said. "Damn..."
Tucking your side fringe behind your ears, an empty chuckle came out. "Yeah. I love them and all, but it's... exhausting. But, my mind won't let me disagree with them. After all, they just want me to live well."
He shook his head, and Belle jumped off his lap and scurried away, deciding to leave you and him in solidarity.
"What about you being happy? Peaceful?" He asked, stretching his legs out forward, leaning back on his hands. "What's the point of living well on the outside when... you need to also live well internally? If that makes sense."
The words carved into you like a harsh reminder—your own guts telling you to say something. But your loyalty was your biggest enemy, and it had the best leverage.
You weren't smiling anymore, nor speaking, and Jungwon sighed, dropping his own eyes to his lap, as if there was already something brewing behind his eyes.
A beat of silence passed, and Jungwon looked up. "I ran away."
Your eyes shot to him, bewildered. The reaction made him chuckle, but there was memory frozen in his eyes.
"Yeah... you're better than me. If they forced me into taking university, I would've crashed out. I mean, I already did." Jungwon shrugged.
Waiting in silence, you let him go on.
"It's started when I was younger. My father was an alcoholic, a smoker, the whole lot. My mother was ill. So, she was even more irritable. With both of them on my back, going out was an escape." Jungwon rushed a hand through his blonde locks, eyebrows furrowed as if it hurt to clutch the dead roots he had left behind in memory.
"I bunked classes. I didn't care, I just needed to be doing something on my own. I had my friends, we messed about, I will admit. But, nothing bad. Just me, my friends being loud and... smoking here and there. But, I knew my luck would run out."
By now, a white cat padded over, collar jingling softly and climbed into your lap. Smiling, you found something light-hearted in the midst of this talk.
"My dad got the phone call from school. Those assholes called them, and he nearly pushed me into... into the stove. He was yelling, angry, called me useless," Jungwon said as he swallowed down the harsh marks of the past. "But, I wanted it out. Finished school. Grades were mid, but I didn't care."
He let out the nth sigh, gazing at the random wall as if he was rewatching the memory.
"One day, he blew up on me. He was drunk. My mother was okay, but she was also hoping for good grades. Too much expectations, too much demands." Jungwon's gaze narrowed. "I wasn't enough. I didn't impress them. And nothing could."
Jungwon grit his teeth, remembering the moment he had stormed through the house, pulled out a black duffel and backpack, and stuffed every corner of them until it couldn't anymore. It was painful and impulsive.
"I ran. I left with my friend and found my own way. And now, I work here. For about 2 years now." He finished, nodding and letting the weight of his shoulders lift.
You couldn't imagine running with your friend, being along and unstable. You loathed it, but it didn't mean that he didn't hold bravery for making that decision. Letting out a puff of air, you turned to Jungwon.
"I'm glad you're okay now. I honestly can't imagine it. It must have been terrifying," you said softly, sympathetic. Jungwon sensed your tone and dismissed it with a shake of his hand.
"Hey, don't worry about it. Because I'm fine now. I'm stable, I don't need those assholes anyway," he said with a newfound strength. Or perhaps, a strength that had bloomed ever since he left the claws of his home.
"Like I told you, the cats keep me company," he said, letting the white feline jump out his lap and join the rest of his friends. You smiled, finding the café an easy path to soothe the weight on your soul.
As if you needed this.
Jungwon, admiring your adorable face, grinned to himself, not missing the way his heart fluttered, as if something was newly born there. It was enticing all the same.
From then, you visited the cats, or Jungwon, often. You skipped classes sometimes or came afterwards with some friends to catch the eye of the cute worker, letting your small desires be fulfilled every time you and him exchanged a discreet look.
Most of the time, you came alone in hopes of letting the pieces of your heart be bared to him, to let him examine whatever you put out there.
You think it worked. For example, in this one situation, you were trying to lure the cats to your hand full of treats, but no matter how much you cooed at them, they blinked at you as if you were an idiot. You stood once more, and Jungwon, noticing it, appeared behind you in an instant.
The emanating warmth forced your heart to run laps, skip beats, and leap in the tight confines of your chest. He was so close—chest hovered by your shoulders, his breath subtly hitting your right ear. A shudder rippled down your spine.
"The cats can't reach your hand if you're standing normally," he said softly by your ear.
You glanced only to stare at the stars that were his hickory eyes and the roses that were his pink lips.
Jungwon had to be the personification of beauty himself—the type of beauty that couldnt be captured by a normal lens because it simply wouldn't do him an justice. Experiencing just his presence without any second thoughts was as if you were face-to-face with the galaxy itself.
Realising you were staring, you let him lower you to the ground until you sat on your knees, and he crouched behind you. His warm hand held your wrist, angling it, making the tingles bite up your nerves until you felt your heart sprint.
Then, he clicked his tongue, and like the cat whisperer he was, the feline friends all came jumping and padding over with curious tails and mouths. You let yourself stroke a few of the fluffy heads, aware he never moved away.
"Thank you..." you said softly. Jungwon chuckled, and he boldly rested his chin on your shoulder. It was so soft that you nearly missed the pressure of it, but you didn't.
The stupid smile tugged at your lips, his hand retracting from your wrist to rest gently, experimentally on your waist. When you didn't pull away, he sighed into your neck, letting his silence fill in the rest.
It was a song of no words, but you loved every second that passed where he filled the gap in your neck, memorising your skin. The moment elicited a blossom of new flowers—bold, vibrant, and exciting. You wouldn't mind if Jungwon brought out more of those from within you. The flowers crawled up your chest, caged your heart into something strong and something immovable.
Only when a customer alerted the bell did he pull away with one last squeeze to your waist, imprinting the print of his warm invitation. Your gasp was soft, barely audible, but his cheeky self just upped and went away.
One thing about Jungwon was that mischief was an ingrained and crucial part of him. Whether it br through his teasing words or his sly hands brushing past you like the wind.
And, another part of him you had also discovered was the speck of secrecy he kept in the cracks.
It had been a gloomy November morning, the city alive and moving as you strolled towards the familiar cat café. Classes had been exhausting, and you craved to ease the storm irking the ocean that was your mind.
Each part of your head was waterlogged, filled with destructive waves that washed and swept over every other thought that threatened to keep afloat.
Whenever that happened, you went to the cat café, climbing up the familiar brown steps, dinging the bell as you opened the door, and slipping on the comfortable slippers before sauntering to the main room.
The familiar warm light illuminated the cream and pastel pink walls and the various cats padding or lounging around on different surfaces.
Your presence managed to alert the particularly shy cat that never revealed herself. Or, your best friend.
"Hi, Belle," you cooed, crouching down and stroking her furry head. She meowed and licked the tip of her nose swiftly, as if curious about your visit. You laughed softly and scooped her into your arms, and she made home within your embrace.
Her furry self was a remedy for the strenuous school day.
Naturally, you were here for one other person, though—Jungwon. As if detecting your dilemma, Belle jumped out your arms and padded deeper into the café, leading you to the counter where Jungwon's back was turned to you.
The sight of his broad back, the muscles peeking out from his shirt, even under the brown apron he wore. His blonde locks were messy, tousled as a cloud.
"Hey, Won," you said, approaching the counter with an easy grin. Jungwon flinched slightly, putting the air pod out, and he turned only to reveal an undeniable display.
Brows furrowed, you rushed to the counter to examine the red scar stitched into his cheekbone, the redness blooming around it like a field of pain.
"Jungwon, your cheek..?" You said, pointing to the obvious wound, worry budding in your eyes. Realisation flickered over his face, hesitantly letting his fingers caress over the spot before he sighed.
"Yn, it's nothing. Just a small accident," he said, giving a dismissive smile. You didn't believe him. The scar seemed shallow, almost as if he had bumped into something with an aggravating force.
"What accident?"
"You know, the cats. Shadow was kinda hard to get back in his bed," he easily replied, leaning on the counter before you on his elbows, smirking as if he knew something you didn't.
You stared for a good few seconds before your hand lifted to his wounded cheek, and he let you. Heck, he leaned into your hand, the warmth rushing through your nerves; the worry still stood strong.
"What brings you here so late today?" Jungwon mumbled, his breath hitting your wrist. A tingle weaved through your blood and embedded itself into your skin as if to connect you and him.
Sighing, you brought yourself to move away from the topic of his cheek, eyes downcast. Jungwon clutched your palm, bringing his rosy lips to the pulse of your wrist. Your breath hitched.
"I... It's just one of those days. And I thought my worries would go if I saw you, but it seems I have another to think about," you explained.
Jungwon hummed into your wrist, again waving off your concern as if a speck of dust that was tickling his nose.
"Will you let it go?" He asked in slight mirth. You shook your head, and he chuckled. "It was Shadow the cat. A scratch. You know how he is."
"I don't." You blankly stared at him as he kept your wrist to his lips. Relenting from the position, he came around the counter, towering over your form, leaning on the counter.
"Believe me. Yeah?" His voice was honey as he asked that, cocking his head to reach your gaze. You hate how it worked because you gazed up at him with those adorable eyes of yours, and he tapped your chin.
"Help me close up. Maybe you can help Shadow calm down," he said, chuckling at the way your pout appeared and nudged his heart.
"Great. Maybe we can get matching scars," you said sardonically, pushing off the counter and heading to lock the door.
Jungwon scoffed, still facing where you had stood, finding your attitude infuriating, but enticing all at the same time. You were some kind of sweet drug, and he wanted it to invade his senses.
With the cats all in their designated spaces with the other staff, Jungwon was with you at the front, but he was cleaning the dishes. A few cups and straws.
You sat on the counter, watching his honey tan skin, the way his sleeves were rolled up and revealed the veins running down his arm and bedazzled his wrist. The undeniable warmth stirred in your cheeks, finding it ridiculous how you were inept at keeping your composure together.
Where Jungwon washed away, he smirked slightly as he spotted your sparkling gaze on him. You weren't very discreet. Not when your head stayed in the same place before darting away every few seconds.
The tap turned off. Jungwon dried his hands before stalking to you ever so slowly and stood before you with his shadow looming over you.
When your eyes met his, he swore his heart skipped a beat, skipped the hesitation; his hands pushed your knees apart, and you squeaked as he pushed himself right closer to you, hands slithering around your waist.
The warmth rained on your cheeks, and your eyes widened from the proximity. "J-Jungwon—"
"Shh..." He murmured, hands pressing your lower back and forcing your body too close. Tentative hands gripping his shoulders, the hitch in your breath betraying how your composure crumbled and allowed him to peek into what you truly wanted.
"Can I kiss you..?" He whispered when he leaned in, face inches away from yours. From here, the scar was clearer; it was dull, yes, but his whole cheek bone was tainted with red, as if Shadow the cat punched him with those petite paws as well.
There was no time to even think of the scar when he got too close, eyes darting back to his hickory ones. The stare held until you finally nodded to his question.
"Thank fuck," he mumbled before his lips swooped in and captured yours. Soft. Really damn soft.
Your breath hitched once more out of the many, his lips firmly moving against yours like a strong gale against a flower bed. It rendered you breathless, but when you pulled away, you gripped his biceps tighter and dived in for another.
Startled, Jungwon tightened his embrace around your waist, feeling the curve of your body press into his, your lips now littering and staining admiration onto him
When you sighed again, he departed for some air, breaths slightly shaky. Your lips were slightly swollen, eyes glistening with something new and exciting that made his hunger crave more of whatever you were enchanting him with.
He saw the exact way you silently asked for more, those pretty eyes of yours fluttering at him, beckoning him closer. He was under your spell because why did he lean in for another?
Your hands tightened on his shoulders now, lips a feather away from each other, eager for another long reunion—
"You two are fucking disgusting." Jay had his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at Jungwon instantly distancing his lips.
A storm of heat wrecked your body and cheeks, and now you wish you would crawl into the dirt and bury yourself there. You gave a small wave to Jay, who gave you a nod of acknowledgement mixed with the repulse.
A slight chuckle escaped Jungwon, hands still locked around your waist. "You could have just walked back into the other room."
"And leave you two unsupervised? On the counter? As if I hadn't seen this before?" He inquired, each question heightening your embarrassment. But Jungwon didn't even mind it, smirking impishly at Jay.
"What movies have you watched?"
"Shut up."
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The marks persisted. Some days, it would be mostly on his face, and then other days, the scars would bloom on his jaw, shoulder, and at one point, you saw him wince, clutch his side when he bent down to grab the cat bowl.
It was painfully clear he was concealing something beneath the surface, and he wanted to keep you out.
But fine. If he didn't want to tell you, why would you force him? Logically, it wouldn't be serious if he never told you otherwise. So, you dropped the idea of the suspicious little wounds at random spots and let it go.
Until today.
Another day, another decision to bunk the later class. It was two hours long, meaning two hours of absolutely useless droning from that professor you despise.
Walking down the streets in the gloomy weather, you puffed some air into your fingers, scolding yourself for not doing the smart thing of bringing your gloves.
November was hit with a silent storm of cold, the freezing air everywhere at once, giving no one respite from its breath.
Which is why you want to go buy gloves right now. The shop you love was down the street after the corner of these other meticulous ones. The idea of buying yourself something was so greedy but gratifying; you know you probably have gloves packed safely in your home, abandoned, but here you were, shopping for a pair more to join the collection.
When you turned the corner, a familiar blonde sparked in your peripheral vision. Now, there weren't a lot of blondes in Korea, but this was... certainly a coincidence, right?
Your supposed situationship was not going down some dodgy and dark alley with Jay? They strolled with ease as if this path was the most familiar route they had walked upon.
The buildings on this side looked... reserved, residential, even. This was no place that Jungwon could know because he never talked about anything else. Or, he never wanted to tell you of anything else he was doing. The mere thought made a crack of doubt in your stomach, the crevice thin, but undeniably there.
Do you follow?
Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. So, as a cat would, even though you were far from it, you crossed the road and sauntered swiftly into the same narrow path.
You had no idea where you were going and decided to follow this random dude, careful not to alert anyone. They all worse dark clothes, and here you were, wearing a cream coat. You were just asking to be looked at.
Whatever. The alley was dark for the most part except the tiny streams of light illuminating the black door at the utter end.
The dude opened it languidly, disappearing. Like the spy you were, you opened it swiftly and snaked yourself into another dim hallway.
"I better not break my ankle," you mumbled to yourself, using your palms to direct yourself down the only path that was also deprived of light. More doubt cracked whatever contentment you had with Jungwon the more you crept down the dark hallway.
What business did he have here? It wasn't normal to casually stroll up to a place like this and act as if he was entering the park or something. Too many questions relentlessly hit your head as you lowered yourself down some stairs when you heard it.
A crowd. Not even the demure mumbling—it was loud. Strident, and you could hear jeering, cheers. The dude opened another door, light spilling in instantly. Not wanting the darkness clinging to you, you rushed through the cheers louder now, but the room you were in was empty except the multiple, absent boxing rings.
Boxing. Jungwon. What?
In a way, you could see the connection of events: the sudden scars that popped on his skin like daisies on a normal summer day. But even then, your thirst of curiosity wasn't quenched, and, as much as you wanted to explore this empty hall, you strode silently behind the dude.
The door he next opened was through another hallway, but at least there was a single bulb to provide the weak excuse of light. It was grey, plain, and had no indication of what stood behind it, but the closer you ventured, the more those cheers became prominent.
The dude seamlessly opened it and entered like the wind. Puffing out some air yourself, you approached it and buried the anxiety of what you would find. Maybe Jungwon. Or maybe something terrible.
What you didn't expect was a dim, shady part of the building with a boxing ring in the middle, a crowd swarming it with their cheers and conversations, and bang in the middle was Jungwon.
Shock froze your body, all your nerves as you stood away from the crowd, afraid of exposing yourself.
He was sweaty, to say the least; he donned a white shirt, blue pants with thick, white boxing gloves, and his golden hair stuck to his forehead. His feline eyes were sharp, focused on the opposing player, who just about entered the ring.
The referee, you assumed, stayed in the middle, holding this microphone, grinning widely.
"Welcome to the next round! Remember to put the money on the person that would most likely win!" He explained to the crowd.
Bets. Money. Gambling. The sudden doubt and bewilderment snaked around your chest and throat, making it hard to even breathe. You leaned against the pillar, mostly to stay hidden.
"As you know him, we have our returning fighter—Jungwon!" The crowd cheered at his name, familiarised with his status. From that, you knew he came here often.
The MC introduced the other dude, but you honestly weren't listening. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jungwon was a fighter for this gambling underground fighting thing.
When you glanced at the building, you saw the abandoned atmosphere, the lack of equipment or care in the mouldy walls. There were a few tables here and there, chairs stacked around randomly with neglect. It was totally different from the other side you came from.
"Fighters..." the MC said again, moving back so that Jungwon and the other dude could bump fists. The sudden movement of his veiny arms, slightly bruised somewhere, made your stomach flutter at the sight.
You almost cursed at yourself for focusing on something so irrelevant.
He's fighting, and here you are, flustered over the tan colour of his flawless skin. Shaking your head out of it, the ding rang through, and the crowd jumped and cheered louder.
Jungwon was poised, circling around and keeping a distance at first from the dude dressed in a blue tracksuit. You couldn't stop looking, the crowd fading out in your ears.
Then, Jungwon lunged so fast in a single stride, his fist connecting swiftly with the man's ribs that it pushed him back.
The blue man backed up, then struck his first move. The fist flew towards Jungwon in the face, but he only defended, arms brought up vertically before his gaze. The crowd cheered again when Jungwon's posture grew aggressive, eyes sharpening instantly.
One glove hit the blue man's ribs again, the left side, and his other used the distraction to deliver a left hook sharply to his jaw. You gasped as the blue dude staggered backwards, hitting the ropes.
This man, the same dude who worked at a cat café was beating a man up. In a bet. It was as if you went down a rabbit hole and ended up somewhere absurd and nonsensical.
Jungwon didn't end there and used blue dude's foot failure to deliver two sharp blows to his stomach, causing him to double over. Another chance that Jungwon saw—he rained his fists down to the man's nape, then shifted to delivering brusque punches to the side of his face.
Almost as if you could feel the strength put into it. Whatever strength it was, it sent the dude to his knees, head writhing on the floor of the ring.
Even when the cheers erupted louder than before, the only thing floating to the surface was how secretive Jungwon was. He had managed to mask the scars with silly excuses and mishaps—but this?
This was a whole other level of what you expected. And he kept it a secret from you. Why? You couldn't find it in you to claw at the anger; rather, you were just bewildered.
Stepping away from the pillar, you planned to head out and clear your polluted head of the dark lights and dark fight. Even then, you cast one more glance back, and your breath hitched as Jungwon's gaze turned to you, freezing you in place.
His smile faded, just like your knowledge of him from the past few weeks, and he tore off his boxing gloves before hopping down to the musty ground. The crowd gave way as the winners went to get their money, and the losers grew desolate.
For some reason, you remained in place, hoping that whatever he was about to say would eradicate this new view of him. But it was selfish to think that you could just ignore what you saw, to keep this memory in a bubble that you hoped to never pop. Though, it wasn't reality.
With a calculated walk, he approached swiftly but softly locked your fingers together and led you away from the main scene towards a different set of doors, his expression saying absolutely nothing. You let him do so.
The silence once entering the hallway was harsh, almost suffocating. His heavy footsteps broke it as he pulled you along to this door, shoving it open and revealing a simple locker room.
Clean, lit, and well-organised.
Once you were in, he shut and locked the door, his back facing you, as if he didn't know what words to say. Even you, who had a plethora of thoughts and questions, couldn't bring yourself to inquire what kind of shit just went down back there.
Jungwon sighed, leaning on the door on his elbows before turning; his face was shining with sweat, a small bruise on his jaw with golden locks damp and stuck to his forehead. When he saw your perplexity, he quickly glanced away.
It's fine if he didn't want to talk. Your voice was still lost, even whilst he was doing a brief shower in the next room. Sitting on a random bench, you heard the water stop running behind you, the rustle of the metal rings as he pulled the curtain.
This was too intimate, but if you weren't so confused, you would have acknowledged it and allowed to twist your thoughts into a blushing mess.
There had to be something reasonable; a crevice that you missed that contained the reason of his expressive dance of aggression. You fiddled with your dress as he moved behind you, head lowered and desperate to shed light on the answer.
"Y/n..?" His voice rang out behind you, as if the time had finally come to face him. You were silent, unmoving.
The footsteps came around, and suddenly, he was crouching before you, his blonde locks now fluffy, his body donning a black shirt and loose pants, and his hickory eyes stubbornly gazed at you.
It just managed to melt whatever was frozen in your chest and mind. Almost.
Tentative, he held both your hands, careful, but you didn't pull away. You actually missed it. You missed more than that; your gaze flickered to his lips but darted away, sighing.
"Why did you come here—how did you even find this place?" Jungwon began saying softly, squeezing your hand.
"Is that all you're worried about? How about you tell me what this place is?" You remarked, the doubt from before resurfacing like a solid piece of ice to prick your nerves.
Jungwon sighed and held your hands tighter, not wanting to lose whatever connection had you and him tied together. "I will, I just..."
He hesitated. "You weren't supposed to find this place."
"And yet, you're in it. And, so many people are as well. It wasn't hard to follow," you said again quietly, your breaths shaky from containing your bewilderment and apprehension.
What if this was an illegal gambling thing? What if this could get him pulled into a storm with the law if he was found out? Too many risks, and he's so calm about it.
"Okay. I'll explain." He stood from the floor before seating himself beside you, searching for the beginning and the reasons deep in his memory.
"It's underground fighting. They bet on us, yeah, but it's optional. It doesn't make it better, but the reason why I joined is because of the money," he said. Your left hand was in his lap, interlaced with his own fingers, while your gaze remained on the floor.
"You know how I told you I ran away?" He said with hope, to which you nodded slowly. "I needed quick money. Extra, quick money. The cat café wasn't enough, I turned to this. I couldn't stand being a burden, and I still can't."
The more he explained, the more he managed to melt that icy doubt away, soothing it. You listened, eyes flickering to his, which held the shining gratitude for your patience.
It made you realise that he wanted your understanding rather than keeping you in the dark. He took the effort, and you couldn't look away.
"Not only did I learn boxing, I learned how to be in control of my own life. All my life, I was never enough, and it was always shoved in my face. Boxing helped me just... vent. And, not to hurt people — that's not the point. But to finally feel like I was doing something useful to myself and that I wanted to do it for myself. The skills I gain here—they're mine." He held your hand tighter, sensing the relaxation in the way you grasped his hand back.
Jungwon knew yours and his life was different: you had money stuck to your background and present, privilege floating around you like a bubble, whilst he scraped his life, took the token of bravery to get where he was today. He didn't expect you to understand easily, but what he did know was how you radiated empathy.
You held his hand tighter, finally facing his heavy eyes with guilt for having so much bewilderment and judgement hitting at him. "I'm sorry. I just... I was confused."
You didn't expect his soft chuckle, but it gave you the gnawing butterflies all the same, heat creeping up your chest and your neck.
"Don't worry about it. It's my fault for not telling you earlier." Jungwon smiled.
"So, Shadow, the cat wasn't responsible for this one?" You asked, cupping the side of his jaw with a new field of purple and red on his skin. Sheepishly, he grinned again from your reminder of his web of lies.
"No. He wasn't," Jungwon replied with mirth. You tutted.
"You threw him under the bus. I knew he was a sweetheart," you said with a small pout of disbelief. He chuckled, having the strong urge to nibble on your lower lip, but he held back. He rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. That was my big secret. I blamed the cat for my antics." He leaned in slightly as his grip crept to your waist, hooking around you like a sly snake desiring one thing. The touch made you squeak, your eyes widening slightly.
"I can't believe you're defending the cat so easily..." He mumbled, tugging you closer until your hands gripped his shoulders and your faces were close enough to entice you.
There was an intense mischief in his eyes, ones that sparkled in the way that you loved it, in the way that you couldn't reject.
"The cat didn't keep secrets," you remarked softly, hands sliding around his nape, making him intake a sharp breath before chuckling at the infuriating sass you always hit him with. He tightened the grip on your waist, fingers pressing into the small of your back.
"Okay. I got it. No more secrets," Jungwon said, now a breath away from your lips, staring with warmth and a promise that shone heavily in his gaze.
"Promise?" You whispered. Jungwon smirked and nodded.
"Promise," he murmured back before closing the distance between your lips, the softness capturing yours and making your mind blank. No thoughts dared to interrupt you as your lips moved fervently against his.
Jungwon huffed and delved into another, tongue boldly tracing the seam of your lips, crossing whatever boundaries you had set. He hadn't even confessed to you, but friends don't kiss like this.
You don't even like the idea of friends. It left a bitter thought, like a scent lingering after many days. And you grew sick of it.
With a groan, your lips parted and the warmth of his tongue joined yours; your heart pounded, the drums of them raging and bellowing in your ear. It was as if your heart was declaring what you had for Jungwon even if you didn't say it.
He pulled you closer, hands strongly lifting you onto his lap, straddling him only for you to clutch his collar, tilting your face as you kissed him once more, stealing his breath. Jungwon breathing chuckled against your pretty lips, one hand cupping the back of your head, and the other enclosing your waist.
He trapped you in his touch, and you weren't complaining. You felt the heat of his torso against yours, body curving into his like a perfect puzzle.
When he finally departed, he breathed heavily, soft pants exchanged between the two of you. With your forehead against his, Jungwon's gaze met yours again.
Desperate and mellow, wanting to yearn for your trust again, for your touch to soothe the guilt stuck to his nerves.
"No more secrets."
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Over the past month, you and him shared kisses in privacy, going on dates whilst you tailored lies for your parents to wear.
It wasn't like you were embarrassed—no—but your parents had standards of who you dated. If they found out you dated a boxer, someone that worked at a simple cat café, they would certainly freak out and subtly implement more supervision than needed.
And, you didn't need that right now. To be treated like an inept child unable to think for herself.
He understood, and he made sure to make every kiss and touch last longer, to stretch across oceans and make you forget that you were drowning in the tasks of everyday life.
Though, Jay did fully ban you and him after hours in the café after he found you and Jungwon making out in the janitors closet.
"Are you guys homeless, or do you just like making my day worse by doing it at a public place," Jay had said, making you shield yourself with Jungwon and his laughing self.
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Well, one day...
Jungwon was working, as usual, when these girls nearby gossiped among the feline friends. He slightly paused his work at the counter, pretending to be fussed with his monitor.
"If your man doesn't get you at least, I don't know, a promise ring, is he even in the same relationship?" One girl scoffed as she sat on the floor nearby.
Now, Jungwon wouldn't usually care about such conversations, but his imaginary ears perked anyway: if it wasn't for your birthday coming up, he would ignore them. Except, the idea of getting a gift sent a heavy stone of doubt into his chest. He was too curious now and let his curiosity overtake him in an attempt to soothe the lament anchoring at his ribs.
He inched closer, masking it as a job to dust off one of the pastel counters.
"For real. They have to mean it, and that means getting something expensive," the other girl said with a giggle.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow, gripping the cloth a little tighter. Your birthday was soon. And he wanted to make this perfect and worth it. Even if he had to do one more fight to scrape that money.
Jungwon raised a sceptical eyebrow, rubbing down the counter more to get rid of the nonexistent dirt. With your birthday being soon, the only priority was making sure that his gift was weaved with sincerity. But, what was worth that sincerity?
Was it the money? The expenses? Did he need to scrape more cash to prove his love for you through his gift?
To be honest, he wouldn't mind enduring more fights if that meant lighting up your eyes with those stars that always uncovered themselves with any ray of joy.
You were worth all the bruises.
Besides, he didn't want to let his financial situation set a barrier as to what he could do to deliver an adequate present. With what you endured during university, working hard to stay afloat in your studies, you probably craved a moment of respite, a moment in a bubble that was far from reality.
When he got his break, he sat down in the café where it was empty, Shadow curling in his lap as he scrolled online for a 'promise' ring. It couldn't be hard. It also couldn't be that expensive.
He was thoroughly wrong when he stumbled across a decent and dainty ring but immediately tossed his phone on the floor when he observed the string of zeroes and numbers.
Before the decimal point as well.
A puff of air left him, forcing out the lingering cloud of apprehension.
Shadow meowed as if he was judging him, those green eyes blinking up at him. Annoyed, Jungwon frowned and crossed his arms.
"You don't even have fingers. You can't judge me."
Shadow immediately jumped off his lap, making Jungwon's exasperation sunk deeper into his chest. He threw his arms in the air. "I didn't mean it!"
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Jungwon thought long and hard to the point his brain must have burned itself out, his patience being thinner than the strand of hair.
Who knew the stress of gifts would be weighing down on his soul that much. At boxing practice, his hooks were messy, unfocused and he ended up jolting pain up his shoulder.
There wasn't anymore time because your birthday had arrived; the skies were somewhat cloudy, the icy air nipping at his skin and brushing past his golden locks. Jungwon avoided the cold by a black coat and a thick scarf that practically swallowed his face.
"Jungwon!" You squealed from afar, jogging to him with a bounce in your step. He couldn't help but smile, his heart warming as you jumped into his arms, and he spun you around.
Those soft giggles of yours filled his ears, like honey, and he grinned down at you once safely on the concrete.
"Happy birthday, my love," he said with a tilt of his head, finding your sincere joy utterly adorable. He held your waist as you gripped his shoulders.
"Thank you! Nice scarf, by the way," you commented, hand running down the orange and green fabric, the thickness surprising you.
"Thanks. I can't risk catching a cold on my day off," he murmured, kissing you firmly on your temple. That alone sent your heart to beat too fast for your own good, your breath hitching as he did. You could never grow tired of this type of intimacy.
"So, you wanted to take me out?" You began to walk with him down the street in your thick coat. Jungwon nodded.
After he had searched for a promise ring, he found himself meeting dead ends at every corner. It was frustrating, to say the least, but it meant scavenging for a new solution to the gift problem.
"Well, I know you love doing your nails. And, I think they're due for another check-up, right?" He asked as his warm hand hoisted yours to his gaze, firmly clutching yours. Indeed, some nails were chipped away with time.
"Yeah, yeah, I am due. But, you don't need to," you reassured Jungwon earnestly. As if you had said something ridiculous, he scoffed as he focused on the path ahead.
"It's your birthday. Why wouldn't I do your nails. I want to do something meaningful for you," Jungwon explained, his voice soft and layered with endearment.
You clutched his hand tighter, somehow wanting to connect you to him more than you already were. Both hands swung between you and him as the warmth threaded delicately into your chest. "It can get pricey, that's all."
Jungwon stopped walking, and you were pulled back to spot the igniting determination.
"I want to. I know what I want," he said, taking a close step forward to linger over you. "And that's to make you happy."
Flutters erupted in your stomach again, small butterflies freed in the pits of your guts, making a smile tug your lips. He was sweet, so full of personality, and you always saw his kindness in the way it decorated his actions.
How could anyone not like him? You would rather leave that irrelevant question unsolved.
You started walking again, pulling him along with a stupid, giddy smile and intertwined hands.
Jungwon didn't comment on it, letting the internal glee shower you like blossoms.
Watching you at the nail salon was not as boring as he thought it would be. The interior was soft and dim as the nail technician chipped off the older charms, scraping the glue off your nails.
To Jungwon, it looked painful, but you weren't even flinching from any agony. Or, you were really good at hiding it.
Whatever it was, Jungwon didn't complain because he, himself, was enamoured by the way you yapped about your day, something about this girl at university annoying you out of your mind during lectures.
But did Jungwon know the details? No. Did he even pay attention to what the girl said that apparantly ripped you to academic misery? No.
When he had looked at you in that moment, it was as if the sunlight magically appeared, beaming down on you, making your laugh seem like a symphony that soothed his soul, and your mannerisms after each incredulously sentence was oh so endearing. You were like an angel, blinding all his senses with your light. He sat there with his chin propped on his palm, eyes unblinking.
"And, you know I hate team projects—hey, are you listening?" Your voice snapped him out of his daydream. He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed.
"Yeah, of course," he murmured as if it was an obvious answer. By the look in his sheepish smile, you knew none of your words actually settled in his mind, and rather, it flew away before he grasped any understanding.
"Really? What was the guy's name?" You asked, challenging him. He rubbed the back of his neck, pouting in concentration.
"Um... Ben—"
"I'm not even talking about a guy! I was talking about Yena! A girl," you whined to him, trying not to move for the technician. Jungwon chuckled and put his hands up in a mock surrender.
"You got me," he said with a smile absent of any guilt. How shameless.
Huffing as you turned away from him, your pout only invited his fingers to playfully poke them, the gesture forcing the heat to stitch into your stomach and chest. You could never get used to this, the butterflies that practically lived inside your guts and sensed your love for him.
Again, you stuck your tongue out, determined to prove that it didn't affect you so much, but you had a hint that he knew what he was doing and he was welding it as a weapon.
After the nail appointment, your stomach was grumbling loudly, needing something digest. Jungwon simply led you down the street, pointing to multiple restaurants.
The nails did do some damage, but he wouldn't mind paying for your food either. Ultimately, you decided on this normal ramen shop, the interior dim and brown, the lighting exuding warmth, and a wave of tranquillity.
"Ugh, I'm starved, Wonie," you said dramatically. Jungwon grinned, gently nudging you by the waist to the booth at the back of the building.
"I know. You must be so tired from sitting there and watching your nails," he murmured playfully, clearly enjoying the way you sent a soft glare to him, one dormant of any aggression.
Well, once the food was ordered, you and him had the chopsticks at a ready, the steam of the food wafting in the air, and a stack of tissues on standby.
"Thank you, Won," you chirped just before your utensils dug into the tteokbeokki. Nothing but pure affection bloomed in his eyes as he smiled again, one with sincerity.
"Anytime."
The dinner was a success with you yapping once more about the food, the nail design which you were utterly grateful for, all inspired by Pinterest. He only nodded and smiled, attentive to your voice as ingrained into the walls of his head.
He would carve your voice into his mind if he had to ever capture your exuberant gesticulations.
It made him think and realise that you probably didn't act like this at home. That you were forced to be demure about your wants and wishes, having to withold your tongue in the depths of your chest.
It was cruel that you couldn't find your voice, like this, to confront your parents; it wasn't just the studies, but it was also the fact that Jungwon was a secret. Someone in the shadows of your life, as if he didn't deserve to be brought into the light.
The thought prickled his composure, tingling his skin, and his grip on the chopsticks tightened as your voice droned on. It was something he didn't want to ask, but it came out before he could decide the rationality.
"Are you... embarrassed of me?" Jungwon stared at you with a stillness that stopped your previous conversation. There was a weight burning in his eyes, small as a spark, but still powerful to evolve into something more.
With a nervous chuckle, you tilted your head at him. "Of course not, Wonie."
He hummed, eyes leaving yours for a second to pick up some of the rice cake; your gaze was still burning into him, trying to dissect what he was implying. And why.
"I see."
"Why would I be embarrassed? You're literally one of the best people in my life," you countered again when his voice dimmed.
Jungwon knew he should understand. There was more to it, but in his head, he wanted to remind you that there were other options other than staying in the confines of your parents' boundaries; you could always trek down a different path, a path paved by your decisions. However, it was easier said than down.
"No. It's just that... I don't buy you luxuries, I barely take you out. I fight, for peace sake," he explained, his voice anchored by his own insecurities. His words alone told you he was secretly sinking in his own reluctance.
Your hand reached out to his, gripping it firmly. "I don't care."
I don't have a big ass job or working a corporate nine-to-five," he went on again, making your heart sting. You held his hand tighter, his eyes flickering to yours.
"I don't care. Really." You attempted a small smile that only made his questions rise deeper from below.
"Then, why keep me a secret?" He asked, rubbing your knuckles softly with the pad of his thumb. The question caught you off guard, your thoughts unsteadily rocking at sea from it.
It was true. Why didn't you? Because, what? You're scared of your parents, friends? Scared they would separate you and Jungwon?
Yeah, it was a valid fear. You don't care that Jungwon doesn't have the most colourful job in the world, but that doesn't mean you were embarrassed of him.
"I just don't want to deal with their shit," you said softly, grip tightening in his as if you tried to convey the weight of your parents on him. Jungwon held your gaze, munching slowly.
"You shouldn't be afraid of them. You're already doing so much for them, the least they can do is let you date," he replied, the tension bolted in his words.
"I'm not scared of them... I just don't want us to be separated. I really like you, Jungwon. I can't lose you," you suddenly rambled on, pouring out the vulnerability you always preserved around him. With his eyes softening, understanding slowly stitched in his gaze.
"I get it. I like you, too. But, I don't you to exhaust yourself by keeping me a secret," he murmured as he glanced back down, something clouding the hope that once stood there.
"I will tell them one day. They're just... on my back with studies and stuff," you explained again, recognising your own words was just a mask of the excuse underneath. Though, Jungwon nodded and smiled with a resigned sigh.
"I know. I don't want you stressed." He held your gaze, blinking with those eyes always void of judgement.
That was one thing you love about him—the undeniable understanding he had with your situation, how you always found a respite, an oasis in his arms. It made you feel as if you could tell him anything.
And, as he said before, no more secrets.
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APPARANTLY, GRADES WEREN'T THE ONLY THING YOUR PARENTS WERE CONCERNED ABOUT.
Having her tug down a dress down your thighs, you kept protesting and frantically questioning her; each time, she hushed your concerns and sewed your complaints shut.
It grew worse when your mother haphazardly did your hair, earning a few agonised protests.
"Mother, what are you doing—"
"Stop moving, Y/n!" She scolded.
Soon enough, you were downstairs and pulled into the lounge. It would have been a normal sight if you didn't see a new set of eyes and faces, all peering at you as if you were the newest thing to be displayed.
Discomfort stitched your chest into a tight space when you saw new sets of faces, eyes all peering curiously over you. There was an elderly man and woman accompanied by a younger dude with pale skin and moles etched under his eye and on his nose.
"Ah—here's my daughter!" Your father exclaimed, putting an arm around your shoulder, hoisting you deeper into this mess. Sending a look of bewilderment to your parents, they completely ignored you.
"She's lovely," the other woman said, patting the younger boy's arm softly but excited.
"Introduce yourself," your mother said with a hinted demand in her tone. You knew better than to question her right now: she had that look where her eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing with glittering expectation.
Clearing your throat and waving slightly, you gathered your voice whilst they all pointed their gaze on you, the stares like needles to your skin.
"I'm Yn. Nice to meet you," You said. The other parents, plus the boy, all grinned at your tone, mistaking the confusion as courtesy.
Again, the other elderly woman nudged the young boy softly to go forward like you did. Once he did, offered a cordial handshake.
"I'm Sunghoon. Nice to meet you, too."
Said Sunghoon was gorgeous, of course. But, that didn't answer the question in the spotlight. It was still very much distracting you. You sent a look of bewilderment to your parents.
"Yn, Sunghoon and his parents have expressed an interest in you."
That made your whole world freeze. All your nerves totally halted in place, your brain chemistry dying down from that single sentence as you stared at her wide-eyed.
Shock shot right through you, stunning all your nerves into ice, even your thoughts. With wide eyes, you stared at your parents as if they had held the gun and triggered the bullet.
What the hell????
...
The dining room lingered with silence except the occasional clink when you absentmindedly stirred the straw in your glass. Gorgeous Sunghoon was poised beside you, drinking. And the parents?
They went to the kitchen as if to let the chemistry blossom between you and him. But, there was nothing but dead roots in place with your patience discreetly withering with it.
It's your parents and their damn noses digging into your love life and rearranging that as well.
Wasn't the studies enough? What were they so worried about? Were you that socially unavailable that you couldn't open your shell to new people? Is that how they saw you?
Then, there was Jungwon, who easily peeled away your barriers, finding the key and treading right into your heart. And, wherever he stepped, flowers bloomed behind him and created a sprightly path of life.
Now? This Sunghoon dude singlehandedly lifted all your walls up into immovable stone.
"Yeah, so that's where I want to work. My father thinks I can take after him in a few years, even though I kind of know everything." Sunghoon took another sip of his glass while you zoned out, circling the straw in your untouched drink.
"So, what about you?" He asked, fully facing you. It startled you for a moment, but you restrained the urge to roll your eyes, and set your cup down.
"I'm still in university, so. I just entered actually." You glanced at him, masking the boredom prickling your internals. Sunghoon smiled, but one filled with curiosity.
"Doing something in healthcare, right?"
Whenever you heard the core word, a single petal died in your head, making it hard to eve keep the composure alive. Even then, you nodded once and distracted your impatience by gripping the cold glass.
He hummed, as if pleased.
"Hard, but rewarding." He set his finished glass down, now leaning on his knuckles, examining your features with interest, as if trying to decipher how you truly felt.
In reality, you would do anything to be with Jungwon and do absolutely nothing because simply orbiting around him would ease all creases of boredem that you had right now. It was quite telling.
The silence stretched on for long, and you know you should have made some small talk, but this whole encounter, quite frankly, pissed you off to no ends, your serenity thinning to a strand.
Honestly, it was a way for him to take the hint that you had no interest to take this further into the future.
Besides, your interests laid elsewhere.
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YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS THE END OF IT, BUT NO. After that awkward day, you were prepared to meet Jungwon in disguise for a 'study session' with your classmates in town when your mother knocked on the door.
Without waiting a response, she barged in with a sly smile that curled your guts into tight knots.
"Sunghoon wants to meet you again!" She exclaimed, coming up to you when she noticed your heavy tote bag. "Where are you going?"
"I told you. The library," you said with a lie, making sure all essentials were packed in.
"You can't! He's coming over as we speak," she said, making you gawk at her as if she had shot another bullet at you.
"Mother—I told you that I'm not free today!"
"It's just studying. You won't be missing anything," she remarked with a hand on her hip, demand layered underneath her tone.
The dread, at this point, had rotted away in your chest, making your protests die in your vocal chords. You just sighed and dropped your bag onto your bed whilst she careened towards your walk-in closet.
The frown tugged at your lips at the thought of putting down a date with Jungwon, who had his day off today out of all days. The universe had other plans to subdue your happiness for some reason. What would you tell him?
Come to think of it, you hadn't told Jungwon of this unexpected courtship. It totally slipped your mind because you thought it was a one-time thing. Now that your mother brought you the news, unease bubbled at the pit of your stomach, as if the topic itself caused nausea.
If you told him about Sunghoon, it would just be messy: telling your boyfriend about the courtship looming over you like a storm cloud was not the best conversation to have. Besides, you are going to fully reject Sunghoon and make sure that this mess doesn't extend any further.
Telling him about Sunghoon would just be messy: who even wanted to break that to their boyfriend that another man was trying to sprout something nonexistent? It was almost laughable. Except, you were going to reject Sunghoon and make it clear that your stone walls would not crumble for him. Meaning... none of this would evolve further.
Your mother returned with multiple hangers, droning on and on about how to impress the family.
When she wasn't looking, you rolled your eyes.
Again, the dinner at the table was mostly held by the chatter of the parents, their boisterous laughter and audacious words about work and business was a enough to lull you to sleep.
Whilst your fork stabbed into a strawberry, Sunghoon sipped his tea once more, his gaze landing on you and attempting to break apart your expression.
"You don't look pleased," he stated quietly, not enough for the parents to hear. A small sigh escaped your lips when thinking of how to approach this without seeming like a brat about it.
"Can I be honest, Sunghoon?" You turned to him slightly. He nodded easily.
"I'm not... interested in taking this further," you admitted, not knowing why apprehension weaved into your chest and made itself clear.
Sunghoon looked away for a moment, maybe to contemplate why, or maybe to decide what to even do with that information. Then, he exhaled a slow breath that gave you no clue as to what emotion was flowing through him.
"I kind of know," he began to say, careful but resigned. You raised an eyebrow.
"I understand." He looked back at you with uncertainty and something else stitched deep within. You held his gaze before speaking.
"It was nice to meet you and all, but i think this will be our last meeting." You glanced back at the fruit salad sitting idly on the table, neglected and growing cold. Sunghoon hummed, nodding once.
Then, the silence rolled in again like a thick fog that prevented any words from rising to your lips. Relieved or anxious—you don't know.
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Jungwon wasn't the type to be suspicious of you. Or anyone, quite frankly. But, when you cancelled last week on the date that was a rain check on your other cancelled date, the insecurity anchored down in the depths of his chest.
There had to be a reason, of course. You couldn't be purposely doing so—you were too smitten, too entangled with his string of fate, and he knew you were in too deep.
So, what was the reason really? When he had asked you what happened, you texted something vague, something indubitably stitched with a secret.
Jay came over as Jungwon leaned back on the boxing ring, slapping a hand on his back, jolting him out of his thoughts. Jungwon cleared his throat.
"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Jay asked, snagging the bandage roll on the platform by his shoulders.
Jungwon could name a few.
"Nothing. Just... thinking." Jungwon crossed his arms despite the stones of doubt lurching at his internals. It was quite damn hard to ignore.
"Thinking. Hm, yeah. I've tried that," Jay mused with amusement, making Jungwon glower at him. Putting up his hands in mock surrender, he said, "hey, I'm just teasing.
"I know. It's just that I... ugh." Jungwon groaned, running a hand through his hair because his uncertainty was too strong, but it was also formed on the basis of nothing. All these negative thoughts formed without foundation, yet they were sky-high and dangerous.
Jay waited patiently for Jungwon to gather himself.
"I just feel insecure, you know?" Jungwon started as Jay bandaged up his wrist with the protective layer.
"About?"
"My girlfriend."
"Oh, good God," Jay said with a roll of his eyes. "What, trouble in paradise?"
Jungwon ignored the comment, even though a punch to Jay's arm was awfully enticing. But, he digressed. "Not really. But, maybe it's just me."
"Talk to me, bro," Jay urged on with his back leaned against the platform. Those words coming from his trusted friend were enough for him to just undo the knot tensing his muscles.
"She blew me off twice. And, I know she's super busy, but we didn't go out on my day off. Was kinda stumped," Jungwon explained with a hard hand through his locks. Jay whistled slightly.
"Well, did she explain why?" Jay asked with a tilt of his head, lurching the bandage roll into the air and catching it methodically.
"Yeah. She said something came up with her family. Twice." Jungwon frowned again, thinking from square one.
"You trust her, right? Like, she won't go running off with another man," Jay said but the younger one caught onto the joke snuck into his tone. Jungwon's ground his teeth together.
"She won't."
"Just making sure before I tell you that your girlfriend probably has her reasons. And, also just talk it out with her if you feel that disturbed by it. Seriously, you haven't even got into the ring," Jay exclaimed, gesticulating to the empty platform behind both of them.
Jungwon sighed again, deciding that the only way to distract his damn thoughts was to fixate on a choreography that was his boxing skills.
Once his boxing gloves were on and Jay wore the punching puds on each hand, he switched his brain off, and strengthened his shoulders, one hand near his face, the other slightly forward.
The sharp punches rang out through the empty room, each jab done with laser concentration. Of course, you lingered in his head with your pretty eyes and easy words, but along with you came the dark rain cloud of doubt, threatening to dampen his focus.
Jungwon went to deliver the punch harder, only for his body to stiffen and not turn. When the punch landed, pain struck up his shoulder like a bite, and he grunted.
"Dude, what the fuck?" Jay said, lowering his raised hands. Jungwon grit his teeth, patting his shoulder with the gloves still intact on his left fist, trying to ignore the crumbling calm.
"Don't ask. I'm having a bad day," he mumbled, leaning back against the sturdy ropes. Jay scoffed.
"Yeah, bet you are. You've been having one of those for days," Jay remarked, ripping off the velcro and dropping the punching pads to the corner. Jungwon watched, gaze wavering between reality and his memories.
The effect you had was magnetic and he didn't know if he liked how his thoughts all drifted to you, your lovely words, the sparkle in your eyes that seemed to fuel his igniting love.
Jungwon leaned over the thick, sturdy ropes, observing the other boxers loitering around the platforms, or having a quiet snack on the benches. One thing that did startled him out of his daze was the door creaking open harshly.
It hit the wall, a bang clattering through, and Jungwon tensed slightly upon seeing a neat and put-together dude. He had black hair, messy and loose like he had not bothered to brush most of it, and had a black shirt with pants.
The slight quirk of his eyebrows as he scanned the room gave the impression that he didn't stumble onto her on purpose. The smug smirk sent Jungwon's composure on another lake of fragility.
Jay stood straight, leaning over the ropes. "Um, are you lost or something? Never seen you around here before."
Said man gazed at Jay, then to Jungwon's prickly scowl before smiling diligently. He waved a hand in dismissal.
"I'm okay. I know where I am, but you're right about me never being around here before," he began to say, his voice deep, lingering in the air sharply.
"Can I ask why you're here? You don't look... appropriately dressed," Jungwon said with a tilt of his head.
"Doesn't mean I'm oblivious in my destinations. I can still grapple just as efficiently in trousers and a shirt." He grinned at Jungwon, making the mental tightrope tremble more.
This dude gave him an overwhelming wave of off intuition.
"I hardly believe that." Jungwon fired back, making some of the people on the room silence, and for Jay to give subtle jabs of warning through his narrowed eyes. Though, Jungwon was blind and could not see anything except the handsome man on a black attire that only seemed too inappropriately dressed for boxing.
The man smiled, but it was unsettling, like there was something locked away, concealed. He walked up to the platform Jungwon was stood on and tilted his head.
"You wanna bet?"
Jungwon instantly had all his composure and logic fly out the window and melt as he furrowed his brows. This dude had the audacity to challenge him, to question the strength of his skills that he built brick by brick.
Leaning over the sturdy strings, he glared down at the said dude. "Yeah. Bet."
That's how Jungwon found himself opposite the smartly-dressed dude wearing boxing gloves. It was infuriating. Not only was he wearing trousers, not even fit to stretch for comfort, but he was wearing shiny, smart shoes.
The type that glared when the light hit them, and they were slightly pointy. How ugly was that. Jungwon scowled deeper, the bitterness twisting in sharply, making him get into the stance.
"I'm Sunghoon, by the way," the man said as he circled around the opposite side. Jay watched cautiously from one of the empty corners. Jungwon didn't give two shits and scoffed.
"I don't care," he said before circling closer, swiftly and with impatience tainting his movements. He lunged forward on his left, right, then jabbed with both hands.
Sunghoon defended, bringing both hands up to cover his face. He grit his teeth before seeing the oppurtunity, and delivered an upper hook to Jungwon's stomach.
A small grunt left him, but he knew it wasn't hard. Recovering from the slight ache clutching his skin, Jungwon recoiled back a few steps.
What was wrong with him? His movements weren't usually so sloppy, and he could normally predict the next moves and construct a defense, a response before it even played out.
Now? Oh, now his skills felt shadowed. Out of the light, and it peeved him greatly.
Sunghoon circled again, assessing and scanning Jungwon head to toe, as if he possessed the same ability to predict his punches. How? To Jungwon, his skills couldn't be mirrored.
Maybe he was really having a bad day.
Narrowing his gaze, Jungwon huffed a breath and lunged forward. A dance from his left, right, left again and jabbing with force.
Sunghoon scowled, shifting to his left. The oppurtunity shined to him and Jungwon delivered a rounded and swift hook to Sunghoon's jaw, making him stumble back.
He couldn't help the satisfaction swarm his ego, but he didn't want to let it get to his head before the match was over, though.
Fire flamed in Sunghoon's gaze. Before he knew it, Sunghoon side-stepped quickly, deceiving Jungwon as he shifted from his right to the left. Not being able to keep up, Jungwon stumbled back when a harsh ache rippled through his right side.
Gritting his teeth to avoid the bubbling anger, he went to strike when Jay appeared, intervening with a stern glance. "That's enough."
Jungwon and Sunghoon panted slightly, recovering from the brief match that probably lasted a minute. Jungwon wouldn't mind if he had 5 more minutes to beat the ego and shit out of this cocky, rich dude.
Someone needed to knock that smugness off his high horse.
"Jay hyung, what gives?" Jungwon muttered with a flicker of frustration. Jay scoffed and crossed his arms, still standing defensively between the two.
"First of all, this dude isn't dressed properly," Jay said, nudging a thumb in Sunghoon's direction, who was ripping the velcro off the gloves. "And second, you haven't been having the best streak of practice."
Jungwon's ears flamed alight, the embarrassment from all his inept punches and techniques catching up to him. He didn't want to think about it, but when he did, the anger crashed down like merciless hail.
Just everywhere and undeniably jarring.
"I don't care. He wanted a match, I was about to give him one," Jungwon snapped at his best friend, who already had disbelief stitched into the lines of his face.
Sunghoon scoffed, shoving the gloves off to the floor, facing Jungwon. "It wasn't like you were winning."
"Oh, yeah? Let's finish the match right now—"
Jay intercepted, putting a hand on Jungwon's shoulder before his ferocity could act out. With a firm glare, Jay spoke. "Don't. We're not finishing anything. You need to calm down, even you, shiny shoe dude."
Sunghoon shrugged, not minding the weird name.
Jungwon slumped his shoulders, the anger gripping his head with thick claws, making it impossible to even think without glaring. He just hard the desperate urge to pummel his face until it was bleeding, until his own arm cramped.
Jay sighed and pushed Jungwon softly in an attempt to get him away from that pit of anger he was falling into. "Go, Jungwon."
He would have followed his hyung's orders had it not been for that imperceptible smirk curled at Sunghoon's lips. It made him look weak, as if he let Sunghoon run past the finishing line, when Jungwon hadn't even unleashed his full potential.
For what reason Jungwon felt so pertubed, he had no idea. Maybe it was because this Sunghoon dude was everything he was not. Money seemed to exude off him like his own personal scent, whilst Jungwon had cat hair clung to his trousers.
Ripping off the damn punching gloves, he discarded them before shoving past Jay to jab a finger at Sunghoon. "You think you won this?"
Sunghoon simply smirked, tilting his head with hands tucked into his pockets. "I don't need to say it, do I?"
"Nothing has been proved. Come back here this Friday, and then you can 'prove' yourself before an audience," Jungwon muttered with stones of hatred embedded in his tone. Sunghoon just scanned, unmoving.
Then, he sighed and nodded dismissively. "Fine. This Friday. I want to make it fair."
No words came to mind as he saw Sunghoon manoeuvring himself to the ground and dust his hands as if it was an easy task. But, to Jungwon, there was a stronger flame engulfing his thoughts and nerves, blinding him in the rage.
Jay, to say the least, was not impressed.
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The Tuesday was slow and, surprisingly, peaceful. Classes moved at a snail pace, lectures lasted for miles, and the only thing that kept you energised was the fact that Jungwon proposed to take you out today to a café.
One that he randomly found on tiktok and sent to you at midnight like the impulsive nocturnal he was. But, you weren't any better because you also lived as the night owl in your home.
The night held a different serenity. The silence was the constant melody that accompanied you in the late hours of night no matter how unhealthy it made your sleep schedule.
Refraining a yawn, the lecturer soon ended the class, and you packed everything up swiftly to get out of there. Three hours of that was enough to make a crack in your mindspace.
Today was going to be good—going to eat out with your boyfriend, share stories and secret jokes that tightened your bond even more.
Pushing past the glass doors, you descended the stairs and saw the familiar, black car with a familiar figure leaning on the door. A smile instantly appeared on your lips when you saw Jungwon looking cosy in his black hoodie and pants, his blonde hair reaching past his ears to form a messy style of a mullet.
"Won!" You exclaimed, jogging to him as he smirked at you, arms opening with an immediate welcome. Crashing into his arms, you engulfed him with your cheek on his warm chest. A minty scent pervaded from his neck, and you nudged your nose at him with a satisfied hum.
"You smell good," you commented, peering up at him. He chuckled with mirth before pinching your cheek.
"For my girl, of course," he said as you whined in feigned pain, swatting his hand away. Eventually, his sneaky hands glided around your waist and settled there, like home.
"What's the first thing on the agenda?" You asked excitedly. Jungwon pretended to ponder, eyes leaving yours as if to recapture his memories before returning to yours.
"Food, food, and more food." He lowered his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. The warmth travelled up your neck and cheeks, fully rendering you to his merciless affection.
"Perfect plan," you said with a nod.
"Of course it is, I planned it," he remarked, squeezing your waist a little before hauling you with him to the car. You laughed, holding onto his shoulders.
"I can walk, you know?" You giggled as he spun you around and firmly pinned you to the passenger door, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.
"It's fine to carry you. You're like my personal accessory. I wish I could carry you in my pocket," he said, leaning in with words becoming closer and more intimate.
At his comment, you shook your head with an amused scoff. "Says you. Everything you do is cute. I want to put you in my pocket."
Acting offended, he put a heart to his chest as he tilted his head with a silly smirk gracing his lips. "You wound me, princess."
You and him shared laughter for a few seconds before he saw the light die out in your eyes, your gaze darting behind him, and your grin crumbled.
Jungwon, the ever curious one, did the same and squeezed your waist in worry.
"What's wrong?" He asked carefully as your gaze flickered back to him with newfound worry rising to the surface.
"I..."
You couldn't say anything, and with slight impatient curiosity, Jungwon turned over his shoulder, wondering what had gotten you all flustered like that.
It wasn't the sight he wanted to see, though: walking towards you and him with deliberate ease was Sunghoon, his crisp white shirt underneath his black blazer standing out in the somewhat empty street.
Even those damn shoes tapped like a death knell approaching you and him. Jungwon's gaze darkened, the previous jokes and humour vanishing in a flash, as if the rage he stored away had burned it all.
This dude must be following Jungwon. Of course. Why else would this dude have any speck of audacity to confront you and him like this? The urge to deliver a clean punch with just his knuckles was strong, the instinct like gravity.
The thing is, Sunghoon wasn't even looking at Jungwon with surprise—he was looking at you, as if he had discovered something odd and strange.
You shifted uncomfortably in his arms, leaning off the car and untangling yourself from him slightly, apprehension laced in your actions.
"Y/n, what are you—" Jungwon tried to mumble when Sunghoon called your name like old friends or something. The initial shock was a whip to his thoughts.
"It's funny meeting you here..." Sunghoon finally came within distance, smiling dangerously as he glanced at you, then Jungwon. Jungwon knew that he was commenting some kind of dots, that there was a clockwork of thoughts chiming inside that asshole's head.
Protective, Jungwon stepped forward. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
From the side, he could sense your confused glances between the two of them. Sunghoon simply tilted his head, jerking his head to you in a gesture.
"I was going to pick Y/n up," he replied easily, hands snug in his pockets. There it was again—another strike of confusion forming on the skin of his thoughts. Sunghoon knew your damn name.
"How the hell do you know her name?"
This time, Sunghoon gave an amused look before speaking.
"Well... this is truly funny," Sunghoon said with a slight scoff before darting his eyes to you, as if he had caught you in a web of acts. You quickly glanced away to Jungwon, who was blinking away.
But, Jungwon wasn't satisfied, his questions pricking him as he turned to you and Sunghoon.
"What the fuck is going on?" Jungwon muttered, impatience dappling his tone, and you could clearly see it.
Sunghoon chuckled and stepped towards your stiff stature, jabbing a thumb in your direction. "She hasn't told you?"
Now, the impatience was slowly burning his composure right on the spot. He grit his teeth, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
A sigh escaped your lips, full of more worry of how to untangle this situation because it looks so wrong. Jungwon glanced to you, trying to soften his gaze.
"What haven't you told me?" He asked, taking a step closer to you with somewhat desperation. You know you couldn't hide it anymore. Not when Sunghoon decided to shove you right into the fire.
And, it wasn't fair to him either—to hide the secret that was Sunghoon and his courtship. Gulping hard, you glanced at Jungwon.
"... My parents wanted... they did this a few weeks ago. They wanted to set me up," you began saying, your voice barely fighting past the guilt. Jungwon narrowed his gaze.
"A few—do you mean two weeks ago?" He interjected with his body bolting with tension in every joint, thinking of those times you blew him off for those dates.
The panic seized your nerves, and you quickly stepped to him. "Yes, but I literally decided that I didn't want to do this! So, I don't know why Sunghoon is even here."
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow as it was all turned on him, staring at you as if he was calculating something before a glint shone through his eyes. You didn't want to find out why.
"Don't tell me... this is your secret boyfriend. And you haven't told your parents?" He scoffed, smiling with those menacing fangs peeking through. The doubt fully cracked Jungwon's composure now, the insecurities of the past few weeks rising to the ground and wringing around his ankles.
"That's not the point. I asked why you are here?" You interjected quickly with somewhat impatience as you glared up at him. Sunghoon just grinned.
"I wanted another chance to explain to you why our parents think we're a good match. But, I no longer think I need to be the one explaining," Sunghoon answered slyly.
Jungwon looked down, breathing slowly through his nose before staring at Sunghoon, thinking of so many things to say to this asshole, and to you.
"And, I'm not the only one who needs an explanation," Sunghoon added on as he looked to the brooding Jungwon, as if he recognised him. That's where your confusion sprouted.
"How do you...?"
"Boxing. The other day, we had a somewhat pleasant match, but we couldn't 'prove' ourselves," Sunghoon answered quickly, and neither you and Jungwon missed the smug tone buried beneath it. He clenched his fists tighter.
"I didn't know that." You glanced at Sunghoon, but he just let out a huff of amusement.
"I didn't know this either. But, hey, we all got secrets, don't we." Sunghoon crossed his arms, the mirth pricking all his words and the way he stood and gave you the same look. His words stung you, the hypocrisy in your own actions swinging back at you as you tried to divert the topic.
"I told you we wouldn't work out," you exclaimed in distress. Jungwon didn't understand how deep you and this dude went, but he knew for sure, that he disliked it deeply. He stared at you now.
Sunghoon dismissively waved his hand, fueling your irritation and desperation more. You huffed, running a hand through your hair before firmly turning to the taller male.
"Sunghoon. Leave. Please." You uttered the last bit with a prickle if desperation, observing how his resolve crumbled. He shrugged, giving one last look to you before narrowing his gaze at Jungwon.
Then, he sauntered away.
The silence between you and him could have measured mountains as you shifted on your feet, too apprehensive to even meet your boyfriend's eyes. Even from here, you could sense the questions he wanted to press.
"I... I can explain—" You tried to say, but Jungwon whirled around, lips pursed, shoulders tight as much as his jaw. You realised the delicacy of his mind right now, the trust dimming in his eyes.
"Why wouldn't you tell me? What...?" Jungwon groaned quietly, running both palms down his face in an attempt to rub off the exasperation in his features. You stepped forward, your thoughts jumbled in a mess.
"I... I didn't think it was important," you uttered, to which he scoffed now, hands by his side.
"You didn't think that it was important to tell me someone was courting you? That your family set you up? You know what?" Jungwon shook his head, eyes darting frantically as he crossed his arms in disbelief. "That's not the point. You could have taken the chance to tell them you're already dating someone."
Here it was again—the idea of pulling back the curtains to expose Jungwon to your parents. "Jungwon, I can't do that!"
"Why?" Jungwon snapped back in a way that shocked you. But, he didn't care. He stepped forward, putting a hand on his chest when you didn't reply.
"I know why," he began saying before adding on, "You're embarrassed of me."
Shock and denial mirrored in your own gaze whe you shook your head. Jungwon found it hard to believe anything else.
What other reason was there to hide the love blossoming between you and him, the unique petals that grew from the seed of your bond? No one else could replicate it the way you and him have. Yet, here you were, putting him deeper past the curtains into isolation.
The thought brought small shards of doubt and hurt to prick his nerves, to make his stomach tighten until he felt sick.
"I'm not embarrassed, Jungwon—"
"Then, why won't you tell them? Huh? To protect me?" Jungwon almost could laugh as he shook his head again, the denial and pain clashing together in a fight he couldn't predict.
The first fight he couldn't predict.
"No, you did this shit to protect yourself!"
You involuntarily flinched at the harshness in his words, but with your voice seemingly lost, Jungwon went on.
"Why do you let them do this to you? I get it—they want what's best for you, but do they get a decision in every part of your life? Over me?" Jungwon asked again, some of his voice losing its edge, but the anger was undeniably shadowing it. Your frown weighed deeper.
"I don't want to lose you. If my parents find out—"
"I don't give a shit about your parents. If it's us, then you should believe in that!"
Anger engulfed, suffocated you like a thick fog, forcing your thoughts and words so quickly that you didn't process your next remark.
"Of course you would say that when you ran away from yours."
The silence stilled him again as your words physically twisted his chest. He could almost spot the regret quickly forging in your eyes, but he was fixated on one thing.
When he told you his past, he told you that in complete confidence, to let his own anguish be lifted off his shoulders. He didn't expect it to be made into a weapon of steel that left him speechless and bewildered. No matter how much anger was brewing in him, the aftertaste of hurt lingered bitterly.
He stepped back, and you shakily stepped forward, remorse flooding your eyes and extinguishing that irritation. Though, Jungwon didn't want to hear it.
"J-Jungwon, I didn't mean that—"
He didn't listen, stepping back with a lump caught in his throat, his head on the verge of erupting. It was too warm, too suffocating despite being outside in the chilly weather. Heck, he wasn't even looking at you.
Yes, he left his parents because their control was like enduring constant stabs to his sanity. If he stayed any more, he would have been a shell of himself, a body with no soul to move him forward. Thinking of home now, he didn't want to retrace those footsteps.
His eyes met your teary ones, acknowledging the guilt beginning to ripen. His own breaths quivered but he forced himself to speak.
"I did. Yeah. But because they controlled me. You think I don't know controlling parents? I do. But I did something about it. It's about time you did as well. Stop latching on to everything they give you." He was breathless by the end of it but the message was firm and unmoving in his gaze.
It forced a shudder to pervade your body, the guilt growing like a toxic plant that only you were to be blamed for. Another step forward, but you flinched as Jungwon put a hand up to prevent anything else.
"I'm sorry," you whispered as he backed away, the agony storming in his eyes, the way he clenched his jaw a little tighter. You couldn't stop him.
You didn't want to stop him because deep down, you knew how he had wrung out the truth and found the seeds of reason as to why you kept him hidden.
It was your fault.
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THREE DAYS.
That's how long the silence stretched on for. And it was killing you. The more you sat and thought about his points, his anger, the more valid you found it to be.
How could you? The realisation struck deeper than any blade could, making you want to just scream and rewind the clock.
But, you couldn't, and you had no idea how to start off the conversation when you had offended him and practically watered his insecurity into a full-fledged plant.
University was rough, and on this fateful Friday morning, you gave in to the sickness plauging your mind and stayed in bed. Your mother didn't question it, but you know she would mumble about it later under her breath, and then depend on the wind to mask it.
When you had finally dressed into something more casual and washed up, you stared down at your phone, the reflection speaking to you in more ways than one.
Not only did you keep him hidden, but you also used his past against him. Whatever indignation you had at that moment crumbled like sand. You had no reason, no justification for the way you turned on him—and for what? To fabricate your own flawed actions? The look in his eyes pummelled you with stones.
Not telling your parents was a weak wall you had built to save yourself from lectures, from the disapproval that would have grown from telling them. But, you knew it wasn't worth the guilt that had blossomed in its place.
If you really thought about it, his insecurities had risen to the surface many times, chilling the conversations into awkwardness, and instead of melting away those internal problems, you just allowed it to freeze something unknown in the relationship.
You should have asked him how to solve this problem. Not how it would affect you: after all, two people make a relationship tick in perfect clockwork, and you only thought about yourself.
You groaned to yourself quietly, facing your ceiling now as you flopped back on your pillows, the stinging remorse burning your chest until tears rose to your eyes. It wouldn't do. The iciness would prevail unless you went out yourself to find him and his warmth.
A knock came on the door, and you lifted your head when your mother came in with some water and tea steaming up from a cup, all placed on a wooden tray.
Discreetly, you wiped your tears as she settled down the tray on your bedside table, sighing slightly. "Do you feel better?"
"Somewhat. Thanks." You took the cup of tea, the sweet scent and steam hitting your nose. When the liquid warmed your throat, it reminded you of the chill remaining in your bones.
She straightened, crossed her arms calculatingly. You didn't like how she was standing so you sipped your tea again.
"By the way..." she began saying as she sat on your bed. "Have you talked to Sunghoon? I still haven't been updated on whether or not you like him. He seems quite interested in you."
That name nearly made your eyes roll. Sunghoon—the dude that secretly boxed and then had the audacity to seek you out after purposely breaking the boundaries. He didn't seem to care.
Not only that, but the distaste he practically struck at Jungwon was clear from the way his narrowed gaze and smug smirk had appeared. It infuriated you, as if Jungwon was something beneath his shoe.
You shook your head, holding your cup tighter. "I don't like him. I thought Sunghoon said that."
"He didn't though. And why do you not like him? He comes from a respectable family?" She asked again and again.
The words almost made you cringe, the irony on them clashing in your head. Respectable? More like arrogant.
"He's not my type." You huffed, and your mother narrowed her gaze.
"Then, what is your type? It just seems like an excuse," she accused again, the slight sharpness cutting into her tone.
Instantly, you thought of Jungwon: he had those big, brown eyes, and they held galaxies within them whenever he was with you, when he took care of the cats at the café. His blonde fluffy hair and the small giggles he would let out that had the ability to draw you away from reality and replay it like a melody you desired to hear for centuries.
Most importantly, his support and understanding. Things he easily practised and sculpted with no trouble. He was so selfless.
And you failed to realise that.
Realising your mother was still awaiting an answer, the urge to just go find Jungwon grew. But, you want to make things right if you were to ever make you and him right.
"Mother. I don't. Like. Him." You sighed, putting the cup down onto the bedside table. She sighed, rubbing a hand to her temple, as if you had broken a valuable item.
"Why?"
"Because I just... don't," you said again, standing up as you went to your vanity, needing physical space before you lashed out.
Jungwon's name crept up your stomach, your chest and his presence swarmed your system. Your mother stood as well.
"That's not a reason, Y/n," she remarked back. And, you realised you had gotten her argumentative tendencies, hearing a lot of yourself.
You faced her again, Jungwon's warm presence once again wrapping around every thought in your mind, locking into each corner of your head.
"I just don't want him—"
"Are you serious? He's smart and respectable, and he would take care of you." She started listing off.
But, he wasn't like Jungwon.
"He's even secure, he would listen to you."
Not like Jungwon.
"And, I don't understand why you're holding back when I'm trying to help you—"
Your composure shattered as you snapped your eyes to her.
"Because I already have a boyfriend!"
You stood there, shoulders and body tense as your mother's face morphed from disbelief and shock to some kind of frustration that hardened instantly.
The silence was a heavy blanket, suffocating you instantly as you shifted on your feet. Then, your mother stepped forward once.
"You already have one?" She said quietly, her tone bruising. You lost your voice in that moment, so you just nodded once.
"Who? And why wouldn't you tell me?" She snapped again, making that familiar irritation grow in your chest.
"... I... I met him at a café."
"And? Who is he? Does he have a well job—"
"He works at the café." You corrected her, your voice dimming slightly as her eyes widened. You thought her damn eyeballs would fall out of their sockets.
"Works at a café? Y/n, what were you thinking?" She exclaimed.
"I'm thinking that this is a nice guy. And I really like him," you began saying, your arms falling to your sides, meeting her gaze with truth.
Jungwon had managed to leave a permanent print on you, a print full of colours and sweetness, of vibrant fun to light up your world.
"And, I don't care that he works at a café. He treats me so well, and he might not have a degree like you want people to, but I don't care," you explained with sincerity.
Your mother nearly gasped, running a hand over her temple again with stiffness. "He doesn't have a degree? Are you even thinking of your future?"
"I am! He would treat me well in the future! I'm not a child! I know who he is," you exclaimed again, voice rising against her own condescension, her oncoming tide of a lecture. She narrowed her gaze.
"I... I can't believe it." She touched her forehead again as if you had inflicted a disease on her. You grit your teeth, deciding it was enough.
On absolute impulse, you stormed to your bag and snatched it before walking right past her. She scurried after you, eyes threaded with clamouring alarm.
Y/n—"
Completely ignoring her, you walked right out of the house whilst she trailed after you with countless protests.
But no more would she control you or dictate that part of your life. She can't dictate your heart and bend it to her will. Jungwon already had it, and it was his to cherish.
You practically jogged down the street and realised she stopped chasing but you were moving, and found yourself ordering a taxi and speeding away. There could only be one place that Jungwon could be that you could think of.
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The cate café was still lit up by the time you were there, and you wasted no time in entering and rushing into the space. As you put the slippers on, you slid open the door to find the flurry of cats wandering about.
The sight would have calmed you if Jungwon wasn't on your mind. Without batting an eye, you strolled up to the counter to see Jay working on the till, tapping something. When he saw you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you," he said with a slight smile. No doubt he's probably heard what happened between you and Jungwon, the pure selfishness you expressed.
Clearing your throat, you glanced up. "Is Jungwon here?"
Jay gave you a resigned look, shoulders slumping in a way that made your heart twist with dread.
"He asked me to cover for him." Jay sighed, something flashing through his gaze. You caught onto it, staring unmovingly until the desperation made you lean onto the counter.
"Do you know where he is. I need to talk to him." You blinked at Jay as he shifted in his place, eyes darting to and fro as if watching his thoughts run and crash into each other. "Please."
Jay glimpsed at your eager expression, and sighed. But, he nodded, which meant it worked.
"He's... he's at a boxing match," Jay finally said. Your heart leapt, too many thoughts rising. The guilt had released its poison again, making your eyes shut to recover.
A boxing match. With an audience, probably. You can't just wait for him. You were about to thank him when Jay interjected again.
"He has a match with this guy. This new, rich guy. It was a bet," he said, making the description describe Sunghoon perfectly from those brief words.
Then, the worry took its new place in your thoughts, floating thickly, chilling your body. He was fighting Sunghoon? No, no, no. Not that you minded Sunghoon getting beat up, but you don't want him to see Sunghoon and then have his insecurities jab at him again.
"You have to take me," you burst out again, holding the counter tightly. Jay hesitated before glancing at the clock. A few seconds later, he shrugged.
"Yeah, fuck it. Only an hour left of the shift," he muttered before flinging off his apron. "Help me close up."
With rushed actions, you helped Jay out with the cats, closing up the shop and then hopping into his car as he drove deeper into town. All the while, your hands twiddled over each other in your lap as you tried to think of what to say to Jungwon.
He was worth everythin —worth every lecture and look of disapproval. After all, this was your life, and, for once, you wanted to hold the pen and write down what you wanted.
The early evening sky approached over Seoul, light rekindling to the lamps on the roads and pavements. The closer you got to your destination, the more your urge grew to just jump out the car and run there yourself.
Jay would have joked about your state, but you seemed genuinely distressed and didn't comment on it as he steered into the next road.
Once parked, you and Jay got out, the darkness casting shadows over the narrow alleyway. Jay didn't stutter with directions as he led you down the path and back into the familiar alleyway.
You didn't question it, too eager to reach Jungwon and pour out your apologies for everything you had done.
Once reaching the dark doors, it was as if you were walking into a void from how absent the light was. Hesitating slightly, you pushed through it, the determination rising again.
When you walked forward a little too quickly, you bumped into Jay's back as he yelped.
"Sorry," you mumbled. He waved it off, even though you didn't see it, and helped you into the open light of the normal boxing ring, the slightly flickering lights, and the emptiness that surrounded it.
Just like before, you and him went down that dim corridor until reaching the thick metal door. Jay was the one to push it and let out the roar of cheers and encouragement.
The room was just the same as before, but this time, it was busier, it had more seats and tables filled with drinks and plastic cups, the shop-bought lights blaring brightly at the one platform that had two men fighting on it.
People clustered around the platform, cursing or cheering, a concoction of both that truly displayed the violence they were eager to bet on.
Jay led you in, and then turned his head a few times, but grew defeated. Leaning in close to you, he said, "I'll look for Jungwon in the locker room. You stay here in case you see him."
Agreeing to that plan, you let Jay go to be left alone with the crowd and your potential regret.
You were making a thousand different strategies to apologise, and even then, you couldn't even create a clear path of that. Everything was too disorderly.
You should have written a damn letter on why you were a terrible girlfriend.
When the cheers reached a peak, you glanced up to see one of the men, the black hair, blue jacket, and sharp nose. You nearly gawked as you saw Sunghoon triumphantly raise his arm in victory.
The host gestured for someone to drag the other dude off the platform, and the unease that surrounded Sunghoon was now too much to ignore. The smugness in his face was persistent as ever, soiling your memories and comfort towards him.
"The new guy has won two fights so far!" The host exclaimed, earning another nonchalant smirk from Sunghoon.
For some reason, this felt too horrid. As if Sunghoon's smile was purely because of the abrasive hits he had managed to get down, to almost build a ladder that his ego could climb and never come down from. It was purely a reach for dominance and internal power. It made you sick.
You gripped the pillar tighter, watching as Sunghoon scnneded the crowd before the host started grinning again.
"And so, for the next round, we have one of our best fighters attending! Let's see if our new guy can beat him. You know what they say—the third time is the lucky charm!" He exclaimed into the mic, and the crowd erupted again into ferocious cheers that forced your heart to pump faster.
You didn't like those words, the anticipation it had leaking into your veins like ice. As you watched closely, the host moved, and the people whistled and cheered again as a familiar blonde hopped onto the stage with big, white gloves.
When you saw the blonde locks, no doubt you knew it was Jungwon, and you were right. It was him, but there was a tightness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw and the burrowed eyebrows. Even his brown eyes held a black hole there instead of a million stars.
You don't know whether it's because your relationship had smashed to the ground, or if Sunghoon's face was a clear target that provoked him. Or both. It was rational in a way.
But the sight of him tugged on your heart. The sharp gaze made your heart flutter in the midst of all of this coldness. As if your silly heart still managed to find a way to be drawn to his warmth and grow alive again.
The urge to stop him and just kiss him right there was a good idea if only you didn't have social anxiety and if you had already talked to him. Which you didn't.
The host grinned again, sly. "A juicy bet, this one. Remember to put your money in! And then, the fight can commence!"
People shifted and manoeuvred, but all you could focus on was the heavy steps Jungwon did as he circled around, Sunghoon doing the same as they kept their distance. Arrogance was a badge that Sunghoon wore visibly, the smirk living on his lips whilst a frown prevailed on Jungwon's.
The crowd thickened again, and you didn't realise people joining and entering, but you knew there was no way of getting to the front unless you wanted to become the people's personal rug. You kept to the pillar, leaning on it.
"Okay! Is everyone ready for the next fight?"
The crowd basically yelled in response, some not even speaking, just screaming. The host laughed and then gestured something. Sunghoon and Jungwon came to the centre and bumped fists. Jungwon's jaw ticked even more.
The host grinned and moved back out of the ring before a sudden bell went off. You held your breath.
Sunghoon lunged first with a bold jab which Jungwon defended, lifting both arms vertically to display his veiny arms.
There you go again, staring at something irrelevant like a new teenager. As if he wasn't your boyfriend.
When Sunghoon rained down on the jabs at his defensive arms, Jungwon slid to the right and delivered a hook to pummel his ribs, and then delivering an uppercut to his jaw that sent the crowd in a blaze of excitement.
Sunghoon recoiled and recovered in an instant and backed away, circling from the attack. Jungwon, however, he was tracking him, following his footsteps, a sudden fire igniting within when he hunched his shoulders and got into stance again.
Sunghoon sneered and, once again, lunged with a ferocious uppercut to Jungwon's stomach, and he kept going at it.
You gasped, straightening as you saw Jungwon's face contort in pain, but he used that oppurtunity to rain down punches on Sunghoon's nape and shoulders, delivering three sharp ones before Sunghoon faltered and moved away.
There was a slight slither of satisfaction in your stiff body, and you stepped closer for a better look, the lights from above hitting your eyes.
This time, the crowd almost gave a collected groan and laugh, as if they were mocking Sunghoon. It seemed to egg him on as he straightened, glaring at Jungwon as he circled about again like two opposing lions in a battle.
You saw Sunghoon say something to Jungwon, something that made Jungwon's composure break as he suddenly charged forward.
The crowd gasped and roared in exhilaration as Jungwon jabbed at Sunghoon's torso, unhinged and unrestrained. Sunghoon brought his weight to his left, then swiftly to his right.
Jungwon wasn't ready for it and stumbled back harshly when Sunghoon delivered a hook to his back and a jab to his side.
Your breath hitched, eyes trained on a retreating Jungwon, taking his eyes off Sunghoon to the crowd, towards you.
When your gazes met, electricity shot through you, making you straighten your posture. You wanted to tell him so much, but he was the first to look away when Sunghoon slowly approached again.
The brief eye contact left you hollow, empty, and your shoulders deflated slightly.
Jungwon watched closely, a newfound thought clouding his eyes when Sunghoon smirked again, fists close to his face.
The crowd was too loud, his body stiff and tired, and his mind burned in exasperation. Jungwon grit his teeth and let Sunghoon shift from foot to foot, getting closer.
When he was close enough, Jungwon stepped on his right and pivoted, ultimately turning his back onto him first, but his elbow collided with Sunghoon's side.
He grumbled, but Jungwon didn't let him recover from the stumble as he let furious punches spitfire at Sunghoon, right at his ribs and side.
He didn't know if he breathed, he didn't know if pain tinged at his knuckles and shoulders, he just hailed down on the hits until Sunghoon stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.
Even with Sunghoon on the ground with his arms vertically up before his face, Jungwon took the chance to stand atop him, aiming the damn punches at Sunghoon's stomach.
Sunghoon groaned in pain, squirming away, and even attempted a shot at getting back at Jungwon, but he only took the oppurtunity to deliver a sharp hook to his jaw.
The people around the platform practically broke into another roar, supporting Jungwon's newfound violence. For some reason, he kept punching, practically raining punched on Sunghoon's face until his hands weakly rested atop his head and when the bell went off.
Sunghoon was on the ground for too long, and the crowd all jeered and yelled in dispute or celebration.
Jungwon stood, not bothering to help Sunghoon up as he glanced up and saw you again, your eyes wide, desperate and sparkling like it always did. The adrenaline kept his thoughts running, so he turned away and got off the platform.
That made you walk. He can't leave you there. Your chest was too tight and holding too much to just suppress back into your head and bury away.
Remembering that locker room again, you retraced your steps as you walked around the crowd, rushing into the familiar grey hallway, pushing past the doors.
You saw the way he best Sunghoon. As if he was reassuring himself of something, something to prove. But he shouldn't need to prove anything to anyone, especially not to you.
You let your own fear control your love life, play you like a helpless puppet, and ultimately drain Jungwon of the love he deserved.
Once approaching the familiar locker doors, you flinched when Jay was the one to open it, eyes almost holding an epiphany.
"Jay..." you said breathlessly. He rubbed the back of his head.
"He came in here just now. In the shower," he said, stepping out into the hallway before you. Normally, the thought of him showering would be too intimate, but you were more eager to fix the cracks in the very trust you had broken
"Thank you, Jay."
You didn't wait for a response before bursting into the room, the small locker room empty except the shower running in the adjacent room. You bit your lip, fighting yourself on waiting for him or to talk to him from behind the curtain.
Your thoughts were splintering, about to burst past the dam that held you back. The surge of impatience was hard to suppress, and you entered the shower area with hope that it was only Jungwon occuyping the stall.
To your luck, you only heard one, and a single curtain was drawn at the utmost end of the bathroom.
"Jungwon?" You called out, your voice slightly held back, testing the waters. The shower turned off, and you heard movement, but nothing that was his voice.
Taking it as a cue to move forward, you inched closer to his curtain, fingers twiddling, the worry and burden of your own thoughts anchoring at your feet, like rusted shackles.
"Won. I... you don't need to talk because... you don't need to argue. I'm here to apologise. I was an idiot," you began saying, the lump in your throat forging through like steel.
"You know that, but... I don't want to lose you. And... I got so mad. I shouldn't have. I should have listened to you, but I got angry because... I didn't want to accept that you were right." You shakily breathed, head dipped as tears welled at your eyes.
You felt pathetic, but you wanted to push through it because he wasn't to blame.
"I... I am scared of my parents, and that just made it easier for them to control. I should have... I should have told you about Sunghoon, and I should have told them earlier about you. Because, Jungwon, you are so good for me. You're literally... the best thing I have ever had, believe it or n-not," you said with a slightly breathless and sad chuckle.
You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks silently, the vulnerability seeping through with every streak of tears.
"I can't... buy this anywhere else. You're seriously... a r-rare kind. You're not something I could ever buy. You're just... a miracle. I shouldn't have kept you a secret."
You let out another quivering breath, the silence threatening your composure even more as you wiped your eyes.
"You don't need to f-forgive me, even if I have told my mother about you. I just want you to know that you helped me at least take the first step," you said more quietly, not realising the quiet figure that stepped out from behind the curtain.
You kept going, the dam now freely flowing, streams of thoughts rushing out. "And... I love you, you know? You seriously... have given me so much. And, I didn't even try the same for you."
A hand cupped your jaw, lifted your face as your breath hitched in alarm. There he was, the anger distant now, with something softer and understanding. Guilt. Which you didn't understand. He was wearing a white t-shirt, black slacks, and he looked fresh.
The bruise on his jaw formed, but he didn't care as he stepped closer, both thumbs stroking your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You didn't deserve this much sincerity.
"Stop... stop apologising," he said softly, not being able to endure anymore tears blinding the sparkle in your eyes.
You weren't having it, though, your arms encircling his waist, face digging into his chest with more tears running down your cheeks. You don't even know why he's apologising when you were the one that created the hurdle.
He sighed, his arms tightly locking around your body, a cheek pressed to your forehead as if it was the only way he could connect any deeper with you.
"I don't like seeing you cry," he whispered, his own voice trembling. When you heard the quiver, your eyes lifted to see the remorse etched into his face, the frown anchoring his lips. "You don't need to apologise."
"But, I do. This... this all happened because of me. And I was totally out of line. And—"
Jungwon placed a finger on your parted lips, silencing your breathless self. He managed a small smile, but it wasn't completely weaved with joy. Just slight endearment and apprehension.
"To make you feel better, I forgive you, Y/n." He touched your tearful cheek, wiping away the guilt staining your skin. He didn't want to have you feel all that burden.
Confusion sparkled again in those gaze of yours.
"I forgive you. Even if... that comment did hurt, I know it wasn't... from a bad place. I know you have expectations to meet, but I also knew you were holding yourself back." Jungwon held your shoulders now, melting away the iceberg that froze in the center of your chest. "Do you know how much that hurts me? Seeing you have to hide something you love?"
You knew all too well how hard it was to even talk against your parents. The loyalty was a noose around your neck, and you had no courage to pull it apart.
He lifted your chin again when you glanced down, firm, wanting your utmost attention. "You shouldn't even have to feel scared. They shouldn't have that power over you. I just wanted to help you."
"I know... I'm so sorry, Won," you mumbled tearfully, and he smiled in sympathy again, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.
"What did I say about apologising?" He said softly, his tone dry of any type of command. Even then, you wiped your eyes, seeing his features even more now.
"I should have told you," You said again, voice hoarse as you wiped away your tears with your sleeves. He nodded, agreeing with you but the blame dimmed within you. It was just him and understanding.
One of the things you absolutely adored about him. Even after all of this, he still held the highest standards of care, making sure it was the most significant thing he needed to consider.
He held your shoulders, lips pursing and releasing a sigh through his nose. "I just don't want you hiding."
After all of this, he still spoke to you with softness, mellow demands and pleas. It took you everything not to apologise again.
"I know. I realise it now. You are right. And, I don't want to lose you," you said, gazing up at him again, the warmth of his hands grounding you.
"Me either. I could have... reacted better. I'm sorry for that," he said, thumbs rubbing the edges of your collarbone through your shirt.
You held his wrists, smiling after a while actually. "N-no. You didn't deserve my selfishness."
"You give yourself too much credit." He chuckled lowly again, shaking his head as your hands splayed at his warm chest.
"I think I deserve it. I caused the problem and tried to fix it. I... I told my mother. Let's just see how she takes it," you replied, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to slide his hands to your waist, hugging you once more.
The thought of having to go back, face your mother and her possible lectures unsettled your stomach and appetite. You sighed as he slightly swayed you and him, chin resting softly atop your locks.
"I don't want to go back home," you whispered, sighing. He tightened his grip, stilling, and you noticed it, glancing up. Something was brewing in his eyes, dark, eager.
"Stay with me then." He retorted, voice slightly lower, practically sending your nerves to shudder from the spine down.
His eyes were cloudy, losing touch of reality and its problems. He pulled you closer, your torso bumping into him as your breath hitched.
"Well?" Jungwon murmured when you stayed silent. This was different, exhilarating, and stronger than any kind of pull you had experienced. And your heart thrummed, singing a different song and making you nod.
"Of course."
As soon as you said that, he pushed you back into the shower cubicle, your shoes tapping swiftly on the ground as you gasped. He pressed your back into the damp wall, but you didn't give a care when he crashed his lips to yours, moving desperately and trying to prove something different.
Love, perhaps.
"Mm, I missed you," he murmured against your lips, hooking his hands around you, one at your lower back and another to cup your head. Your eyes were shut, hands clutching his shirt and kissing him.
There were no words needed. The pull you ached for was clearly displayed when you bit his lower lips, now gripping his nape. He groaned loudly, not giving a care on whether anyone would walk in and hear.
The air was heavy, suffocating you in his embrace, but you craved more. You craved the anchoring love of his, the type to keep you rooted to him, even if it consumed your organs and thoughts like water.
Jungwon didn't stop, lips departing only to pepper deep and eager kisses down your jaw, all the way to your ear. Your breath hitched, but he held you tighter, hands skimming down your back until the hem.
As if testing the waters, he deftly untucked your shirt, and you sighed loudly again. You could almost feel his smirk on your skin, travelling down your ear and the side of your throat.
Taking it as a sign, Jungwon's hands dived beneath the fabric, roaming up your bare skin. You hummed again, and he pressed more insistent kisses into your skin, daring to suck.
You groaned breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as he pressed you flush to him, his built torso molding against your soft ones.
"Fuck, you're so hot," he groaned against your neck, nipping at the skin, making your breath hitch more, chest heaving against his. You held onto him tighter, feeling his hands running up your bare back, dancing across your spine in a perfected plan until he reached the clasp of your bra.
That alone sent a thousand ripples to shake your composure, a reminder of how he could take you apart and how you would plead for more of that type of destruction.
With his kisses heavy on your throat, you groaned breathily again, arching your body to curve perfectly to his. Jungwon knew his constructed calmness was about to crumble into an avalanche and reduce him to rubble at your feet.
He didn't open it opting to squeeze your sides and kiss your lips again, tongue tracing carefully. There was no patience remaining there and, if there was, it would have been consumed by the heat in your belly.
The slight dim lighting made it better, and you couldn't suppress the slight whimper as he pressed his hips firmly to yours to test your limits.
Jungwon smirked against your lips, departing for a second, and his one hand snaked to your chin, tilting your dazed gaze to his. Your hands stayed on his shoulders, your skin tingling with delight.
Jungwon's own gaze was swarmed with something, more cloudy, stormy with an urge that he couldn't hold back from.
"I could keep you like this all day. And, you would let me, wouldn't you?" He murmured, his teasing words striking you with heat. You fluttered your eyes at him, tilting your head as his warmth ran through you.
"We both know the answer to that," you replied. Jungwon smiled wickedly again.
"You act as if that's something annoying you." He chuckled, lowering his lips to your neck again and completely shattering the weak composure. He kissed, hands returning to your bare back, down to your hip and forcing you closer to him.
"Well, a shower room is not the place I imagined this to be happening," you remarked with a voice failing to hold together. He laughed lowly again, his smugness running through your collarbone. You held his nape again, and he squeezed your hip.
"We can wait. I don't want to rush you," he said, still managing to ask. You know it's the bare minimum, but you felt lucky whenever he did.
"I want you. So much." Your eyes met his when he lifted his head, eyes heavy with wisps of desire.
"I want you, too. Clearly," he said, accentuating his hips to yours, making it obvious. Your throat ran dry, suddenly aware of how far you were going, and that you weren't willing to retract.
"So much for waiting. Your body doesn't want it," you said, teasing him despite the way his own self elicited something heavier to flutter and consume your heart. He scoffed, still close enough for you to be molded to him.
"I know. I should really learn to hold back. Maybe you can ease it?" He said, raising an eyebrow as if his innuendo went unseen. Rolling your eyes, you pushed his shoulder slightly.
"Why do you need me to help your situation. Use your brain," you said with a chuckle when he had that familiar infuriated, yet amused, expression.
"You're killing me here," he murmured lowly again, lips and inch from yours, his threats doing nothing to lower your smile. "Gee, I wish I could just control my hormones, you know?"
"A real man knows how to," you teased again, being dramatic and exaggerative.
"Well, I guess I'm not real then. Just a figment of your amazing imagination. It's all in your head," he replied, contemplative as he firmly pressed his hips again. Your breath stuttered.
Even then, you didn't let the banter go unanswered. You locked your arms around his neck, staring up at him.
"My crazy imagination is making me see a crazy man. I think I'm having a weird dream thing right now." You grinned, eyes flickering to his lips. "I don't want to wake up."
At your sweet words, even if tied to a joke, softened his cloudy eyes, replacing it with the urge to kiss your forehead. His lips were soft, lingering on your skin and he let himself caress your cheek, as if you were the most luckiest thing that could enter his life.
"I love you." He breathed in the scent of your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hugged him, grateful for it all. Grateful that you could be understood, forgiven after your selfish acts.
"Love you, too."
Just as he went in for another kiss, the curtain flung open behind him, making you and him jump. Standing there was Jay, his eyes scanning the scene, the hands around your waist, the fact that you were nestled in a shower stall.
Grimacing heavily, Jay rubbed his temples. "Seriously?"
"You didn't need to pull back the curtain, by the way," Jungwon said with a smirk, finally distancing himself from you slightly.
"And let you two continue God knows what in here?" Jay inquired, shooting daggers more at Jungwon than you. Warmth ignited your cheeks at being caught by Jay for the nth time.
"This is a public space."
"And yet you pulled back the curtain of someone's shower stall," Jungwon remarked sharply. Jay just waved it off, as if that wasn't the point. Jungwon grinned.
"You know, I'm right."
"No, you're not! I expected you to make up, not make out," Jay said with a huff, even though half of that was true.
"I would ask what movies you watch, but clearly you haven't watched a movie about fighting couples," Jungwon said with a wicked grin. Jay ran a hand through his hair, disgust sweeping over his eyes.
"Jungwon?"
"Yeah?"
"Get the fuck out." Jay sighed, and then glimpsed at your figure curled behind Jungwon, gaze slightly mellowing around the edges. "Not you, though, Y/n. Respectfully, leave."
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"STOP BEING SO NERVOUS."
Jungwon huffed, brushing a hand through his newly cut blonde hair, only for it to flop back into place again. He frowned as you held his wrist.
"Stop, Won. You don't need to be doing that. And, I think wearing formal is enough," you said before dragging your eyes down his body clad in a black shirt, trousers and his pine green jacket.
He was being overly ridiculous, letting the doubts of meeting your parents get ahold of him.
After you had told your parents of Jungwon, they seemed reluctant, but ultimately, they had never seen your eyes sparkling with so much sincerity when you had talked about him. They knew that the care ran deep, too much to just forget about.
That's how you found yourself walking with Jungwon to your home, happily holding his hand and even squeezing it reassuringly. A subtle grip of his hand returned, and he let out another releasing breath.
"You're sure they won't hate the blonde?"
"No?"
"And, I'm not even wearing a tie."
"My father doesn't even wear one. He gets lazy sometimes and wears a clip-on," you said again, giving him that sweet smile of yours. Jungwon's frown remained, bottom lip jutting out as much as his anxiety acting like a sore thumb.
In all honesty, you know your parents will have questions, but that's the point of a relationship—to fight for it, to avoid any possible hurdles and untangle them together.
You wished you had done so earlier.
Jungwon nearly gawked as he stared at your home, the silver gates twice his size enough for him to know you weren't just an ordinary girl.
Of course, you were different, but damn, your home called him broke in five different ways.
"Okay, you ready? We can always cancel if you have any problems," you said, turning to him. Jungwon found it too adorable as your eyes sparkled up at him.
But, there was no point holding it off into the future. Otherwise, he would never get there. Holding your hand a little tighter, he leaned down to kiss your forehead.
"Yeah. Let's go. They're probably waiting."
Jungwon wanted to curl up and shrivel on the spot when he met your parents.
The reason?
He meant to give a handshake and found his hand curled into a fist as if he was dabbing up Jay.
The internal embarrassment hit him like bullets, making his smile tight and his cheeks flush slightly. He knew you were laughing to yourself at the side but decided against glaring at you.
Anything to hear your happiness.
Even then, his parents scrutinised, as if they had a built-in system to recognise his sincerity, and then, they nodded and gave a small smile.
"Welcome, Jungwon." Your mother said, those eyes mellowing as she lead everyone into the dining room. Taking it as a good sign, you held his arm, then slid your fingers to his, interlacing them, as if you had finally reached something you had been looking for in the dark.
All at once, those intricate webs of doubt broke so easily. It almost felt like dust.
After having some tea, Jungwon finally breathed when he went up to your room, eyes taking in the cream tones, the colours that were taken from your personality and embedded in the bedsheets, jewellery and stickers around the room and vanity.
You spun in the room, presenting your room with a small smile. "Welcome! Where do you want to explore first?"
"This room could take two business days to explore," Jungwon mused with a smirk, staring at the big perimeter that was your room.
"Does that mean you can stay over then?" You remarked, mischief glittering in the sky that were your eyes. Jungwon grinned, sauntering over to hold your hips.
"I mean, I don't want to just crash over here," he said, leaning down with voice clouded with intensity, slowly fogging your head as well. He squeezed your hips, maneuvering you back, and back until you sat on the bed before him. You raised an eyebrow.
"You're already manhandling me. Haven't we gotten past that stage?" You joked, crossing your arms. He rolled his eyes, smirk remaining like a stain he couldn't remove.
"Well, if you say we've exceeded boundaries..." He bent down over you, forcing you to slightly lay down on your forearms. "Can we explore here first?"
The heat exploded in your cheeks, refusing the ability to act indifferent here. Ugh, he always managed to crumble your composure so effortlessly.
"You're a freak," you said, giggling as your hand swatted at his chest. Jungwon shrugged, eyes wandering down your body before capturing your gaze.
"It's not like you don't like it," Jungwon said, tilting his head, continuing to inch closer as your breath hitched.
"I don't, so."
"We were kissing in a male public shower stall. I think you are just as much a freak as I am," he said with a chuckle, low, and made your stomach flutter. Even then, your stubbornness struck your next words.
"That's different. I was trying to make it up to you. Technically, you got me into the shower stall." You laughed as he suddenly hovered over you, a knee coming between yours as your back met the bed.
The mischief never faded, though, along with your grin that he loved a bit too much. He stared as if calculating and then leaned down again.
"You have a bit of a smart mouth on you," he murmured with his deep voice, lips a few seconds apart, eyes mesmerising you.
"So, I've been told," you replied back just as smoothly, eyes never leaving his alone, glittering with something genuine and true. He smiled again, a little softer this time.
"Yeah, well, can it kiss me then? I've been waiting all day," he said, hips pressed against yours now, his arm maneuvering your leg to hitch about his waist.
The action alone bloomed heat in your cheeks, and wildflowers that sprouted and rooted into your body with love. You cupped his jaw and brought his lips down to yours.
Accepting the invitation, Jungwon moved his lips softly against yours, savouring his time and your lips. Like a secret and silent conversation he never wanted to leave alone.
You wrapped your arms around his nape and he slid his hand to your waist, pressing in the comfort, the trust he had for you, almost as if he was molding it into your bones.
He departed and braced himself above you, tilting his head to stare down at you.
"You're perfect, you know?" He breathed, as if he didn't look like a fairytale himself.
"And have you seen yourself?" You remarked with a laugh. He rolled his eyes with no hint of aggression and gazed at you, as if he was analysing something.
Or, more like his gaze melted into you, softening and ultimately leaving him mellow and serene.
"I love you, you know?" He said again. Those words—you could never get tired of them. Every time he did say it, the world lit up again, and it was only you two in this world, gravitating towards each other.
Your breath hitched, your grin dying down into something more honest and tender. At the end of the day, you would rather not be with anyone else but Jungwon.
His sincerity was unmatched to anyone else you ever met. You may be biased in that finding, but with him, it was certain that the bond bridged between was sculpted with trust, care, and love. All of it needs attention to stay indestructible. Heck, you may have stayed as a puppet if it wasn't for him.
You didn't want to lose him at all.
"I love you, too... my freaky man."
"Oh, shut up." He grinned, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, his breath caressing you. It was cruel, but you laughed with him.
Sometimes, you think about it even later—why you kept something like him a secret. It was fear and insecurity that had clashed in your brain, eradicating all the logic you usually had.
And, for what? Validation? The type of validation that you would never reach because your parents stretched it to the ends of the Earth?
Even you have limits. You had let yourself believe that there wasn't when it came to pleasing your parents. In result, you had buried and crushed your desires in order for theirs to take their place. Though, because of that, failure came easier to recognise rather than the current success you had in your hands.
From there, you learned that you wouldn't keep your desires a secret.
Besides, your parents didn't even kill you anyways when you said you were dating Jungwon. So, it's a win.
Even years later, the remnants of guilt sometimes floated up again. Keeping Jungwon a secret didn't bring you comfort in the slightest; it only brought burden and doubts to you both. Keeping him in the dark meant he hadn't deserved to be brought to the light.
But Jungwon deserved everything.
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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ[NOTES]: omg! Hi! If you made it this far? Wow. You all are amazing 😭. I'm sorry this was so long, but i hope you enjoyed <3
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