EVERYONE KNOWS WONWOO as the most nonchalant member of the notable e-sports team — "GAM3BO1", however, they also know that Wonwoo only loses his cool with a particular hotshot member of the e-sports team, 'ST4RL1GHT'. You. When a variety game show brings the two teams together and expects you two to work together, there may be more to this rivalry that meets the normal viewer's eye.
PAIRING: rival e-sports player!wonwoo x rival e-sports player! fem! reader
GENRE: Rivals to ???, Angst, Rivalry, Fluff
AU: E-Sports AU
TOTAL WC: 5.7K
WARNINGS: swearing, some mean comments thrown here and there, their teams are lowkey (read: highkey) done with their shit
PLAYLIST: for icy, you're good i guess ~ wonwoo
LIV'S NOTES...
hi! this is my first fic for the love letter collab that @orbitondgtl and i are doing for 200 followers! thank you to my wifey kay for beta-reading this and doing this fun collab with me! i hope you all enjoy this fic hehe and also a happy late birthday to wonwoo <3 i miss him so much and i know a lot of others do too so i hope this helps to ease the longing a little bit! he will be back soon <3
for my izzy...
honestly a fic for you has been long overdue! i love you so much and i'm so thankful that we got to meet through the blockbuster collab in march! these last couple of months of just getting to know you and be your friend have been amazing! to many more years of writing and fangirling about our boys as well as freaking out over them together <3 i love you loads and i hope you love this fic that is undoubtedly, dedicated to you and our love for horror games <3
LOVE LETTER EVENT M.LIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | NAVI
THE INSTANT LOVE AND HATE
Wonwoo likes and dislikes things at a gradual pace.
Like the first video game that made an impact on his life.
Spyro, the game about the little dragon who goes on many different adventures. He didn't know what it was about it but he only liked it when he first played it. However, by the end of the game series, he loved it. It was a gradual change. He found himself talking about it more and more with his family whenever his mother had asked him what he was up to, then he talked about it more with his friends at school and then to anyone that he had met in his IT club.
His first dislike was also gradual. There were some guys in his class that were into some games that required a lot of hours and a lot of grinding. He found it annoying at first but the more he tried to play them — in a fear of not fitting in with his classmates — the more annoyed he felt by it. Hence, he stopped after three weeks and never sought out grindy games again.
However, there are two instances in Wonwoo's life where he distinctively remembers loving or hating something.
The instant love? When he was introduced to League of Legends through a friends birthday at a gaming cafe. The minute Wonwoo's fingers touched that keyboard, he knew this game would be one that he would be playing forever. He instantly loved it. He loved how fast-paced it was, how much strategy it required and what he loved most of all? He was fucking incredible at it.
It was as if he had been playing this game for years, even the friend that had introduced it to him, commended him on it and jokingly told Wonwoo that if there was a way to make a career out of this, Wonwoo should instantly go for it.
Wonwoo had laughed it off that day and shoved his friend but when he went home that day, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Could he really make a career out of this?
He tossed and turned in bed, unable to shake that feeling in his chest before he gave in and searched it up. After an immense amount of research, he found himself staring at the entryway to GOSE HQ, a company that not only developed fast paced strategy games, but also had open auditions for an e-sports team that they were trying to put together.
Wonwoo's parents thought he was crazy. Hell, even Wonwoo thought he was crazy but the second his fingers that keyboard, all his doubts instantly cleared from his mind. It was as if he had blacked out because the next moment, 'VICTORY' had shown up on his screen in giant letters.
He blinked at the screen for a few moments before he clicked next and saw his username there, top of the leaderboard.
Safe to say, life was never the same for Wonwoo after that. He joined the GAM3BOIs with seven others who had made it through the audition and had instantly clicked with all of them upon the first meeting.
It was a fun filled decade after that, they went on to win competition after competition and Wonwoo swore that his life couldn't get better than that.
Well, there is one thing that could make it better.
"You gotta be fucking kidding."
Jeonghan, the vice captain, gives a tight smile at Wonwoo's dry outburst before the latter turns to Seungcheol, his nonchalant look cracking when he meets Seungcheol's serious face. "He's kidding right, Cheol?"
Seungcheol heaves out a heavy sigh at Wonwoo's words, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head, feeling a migraine coming on.
"Does it look like he's kidding, Wonwoo?" He asks, a tired edge to his words as he leans against the console behind him.
Wonwoo resists the urge to say an instant 'yes' when he sees his teammates looking at him with a knowing look on their faces.
"We can't be going onto the same program show as the ST4RL1GHTs." Wonwoo repeats, in slight disbelief. "Aren't they on some promotional tour for their new game that's coming out?"
The two captains share a look. "They are." Jeonghan starts, a small smile on his face as he crosses his arms. "But this promotional program is in two weeks. It was a request from the host of the program so both our management and their management thought it was a good idea and good publicity for the top two teams to be seen together. Hence," Jeonghan casts a quick glance towards Seungcheol as he gnaws on his bottom lip before continuing. "They rearranged our schedule with the ST4RL1GHTs so that we can all make the program on the same day."
Wonwoo feels dread crawling through his veins. "Is there any way for us to skip the program?" He finds himself asking.
Jeonghan tongues his cheek before sending Seungcheol a look. Seungcheol, however, fixes Wonwoo with an unreadable look as he scans him, as if calculating what to say next.
"And why." Seungcheol asks, his eyebrows raising. "Would you need to know that, Jeon?"
A little fear surges through Wonwoo's veins at Seungcheol's use of his last name.
Wonwoo should have taken that as a cue to say, 'just wondering' and let the rest of the promotional content meeting continue but his mind is plagued by the amount of dread in his veins.
"I refuse to be on the same program as her." Wonwoo says bluntly, crossing his arms as he stares at the team captain. The room becomes eerily quiet as the tension rises slightly. Wonwoo feels his teammates eyes burning at the back of his head but he didn't care. There is no way that he can be civil with you in the same room.
Soonyoung — codename: Hoshi, lets out an awkward laugh as he senses the tension in the room. He reaches over to sling an arm around Wonwoo's shoulders making the man grunt as he pats him, a little too happily.
"Wonwoo~" Soonyoung coos, trying to ease the tension. "It's just a few hours, besides they might not make the two of you interact! You can be on the other side of the room and—"
Wonwoo lets out a stubborn scoff before shaking his head. "No." He interrupts. "I can't and won't be in the same room as Icy. I refuse."
"Wonwoo—" Soonyoung tries again before Seungcheol cuts him off by clearing his throat and waving the younger man off. Soonyoung looks between the two before he sighs and removes his arm away from Wonwoo. He purses his lips and rolls his chair back.
Seungcheol lets out a slow exhale before pushing himself off of the console behind him in favour of leaning against the table.
"I think that's more of a 'you' issue, Jeon." The team captain says sternly, his eyes filled with a stubborn fire. "I know the two of you can't get along but this program means something to all of us." Seungcheol gestures to the rest of the team members. "So, I need you to put this stupid rivalry with Icy away for just three to four hours while we record the program and the two of you can go back to hating each other's guts right after. If not," Seungcheol stares Wonwoo down as his voice lowers by two octaves. "I will make sure that you're benched for the season."
Wonwoo's eyes widen upon hearing Seungcheol's words. "You can't—"
Seungcheol cuts him off. "I can and I will if you screw up this opportunity for the team, Jeon. This is one of the biggest programs that we've been invited— requested to be on. It will bring a lot of publicity for the team and frankly, I think this rivalry between you and Icy has gone a little too far behind just the screen."
Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek before he looks down, feeling a slight bit of rage in his veins. Seungcheol lets out a sigh before massaging his temple, unsure if he took it too far. He lowers his leader persona, running a hand through his hair before levelling Wonwoo wth another gaze that's softer than before.
"I know you can be better than this, Wonwoo." The older man softly says, watching Wonwoo's unreadable expression. "You've also been wanting to go onto this program so please. It's just for three hours."
Silence envelops the room after Seungcheol breathes out the last few words. The team members exchange looks with each other.
Wonwoo lets his eyes move from Seungcheol's genuine expression to Jeonghan's cautious one before he takes a quick glance at his team members.
He lets out a ragged sigh. "Fine." He softly says, the disdain in his voice a little evident. He sees Seungcheol's shoulders slump a little in relief before standing up.
"I need some air." He says, not bothering to look up from the floor. "I'll find out the rest of the promotional calendar after this."
Wonwoo speeds out of the room without so much as another word as the glass door violently swings close behind him. The rest of the team collectively heave out a breath as they relax more into their chairs, the tension easing.
Jihoon — codename: Woozi — scoffs at the blonde's statement. "It could've also gone a lot better." He says without an ounce of remorse. "It was like we were killing him slowly."
"We might as well have been." Minghao — codename: The8 — mutters, swaying in his chair.
Seungcheol lets out a sigh as he pushes himself off of the table. "He'll get over it."
"You sure?" Jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as he crosses his arms. "We basically just told him that if he doesn't 'behave', we're benching him for the first half of the season." He tilts his head to the side. "Are you going to actually follow through with that if he screws up the program?"
Seungcheol internally curses himself, he knows he needs to set an example for his teammates. They may be a close knit group but they also had a job to do and Seungcheol's the team leader. The responsibility of leading this group to be the best they can be, depends on him.
"He won't." Seungcheol answers easily, his voice wavering a little that lets the rest of his team members know that he isn't quite sure of the answer himself. "Let's just get back to the rest of the promotional calendar."
The rest of the team share a look with each other as Seungcheol spares a quick glance towards where Wonwoo had exited from before he sighs, he really hopes his words will be true.
Because the one thing that Wonwoo had instantly hated, was you.
TABOO WORDS
You shuffle uncomfortably in your makeup chair as your stylist fixes a few strands of your hair. You know you shouldn't be nervous. You've done promotional reality content shows with the rest of your team before and being the witty and sarcastic person you were, you're the perfect guest for these kind of shows.
Not to mention that you've actually been dreaming on appearing on this particular reality show for the longest time. However, all you can think about is the annoyingly handsome guy that you need to be civil with for the next few hours.
You didn't know what sparked this rivalry between the two of you, but the hate was instant. It was probably the way he always had this cocky aura around him and he was not as nonchalant as he wanted to be. It was just a little insufferable.
You probably wouldn't have been so pressed about it if he was just a good sport. It was one of the first few matches of the season, a friendly tournament that didn't affect your placing for the overall season, just something to get the players warmed up.
You were bright-eyed and new and ecstatic to be playing against some of the players you watched during your free time. You've always been good at League, multiple of your friends trying to encourage you to get into the e-sports world but you were always scared to do so and it irked your friends till the end of time.
Hence, they made you attend an open audition without your knowledge and the next thing you knew, you were one of the newest recruits for ST4RL1GHT.
So, during that first friendly competition, you were actually excited to meet the stellar players, especially said handsome guy in glasses. However, you were also really good at League and when you had beat that star-studded player, you had heard him mutter 'beginners luck' under his breath and that made your heart instantly drop into your throat.
I guess it was true that you should never meet your heroes.
"Ready?" Jihyo, your team captain asks which jolts you out of your thoughts. You sit up straighter and send her a smile through the mirror as she stands behind you.
"Yeah." You mutter out, dusting off your leather outfit that the stylist has put you in. "I think so at least."
Jihyo sends you an empathetic smile as she helps you off the high chair. "Well, just remember what we all told you in the hotel room the other day. Just don't make eye contact with him, only interact with him when you need to and smile as if seeing him doesn't make you want to jump out of the building."
You let out a snort at her words. "I'll do my best." You reply dryly, your eyebrows furrowing at the thought of having to be nice to the guy who basically said your win was luck based.
You think you would rather go into a League game blindfolded.
Jihyo sends you one last smile before she rounds up the rest of the girls on the team. You smile as they all assemble in a line, Yunjin immediately taking the spot next to you as she hooks her arm through yours. Chaewon, Kazuha, Eun Chae and Sakura all stand facing Jihyo as well as the vice captain, Tzuyu, awaiting the quick briefing before the eight of you get called for standby.
"Alright, we aren't sure what the program is for today but knowing the history of this show, they will most likely make us play a few games with the GAM3BOIs, it will be a competitive time but," Jihyo sends you all a look of unwavering confidence. "I'm sure we will be able to beat them."
A few murmurs of agreements rise from the rest of you.
"And the whole line-up is here today?" Yunjin asks, flashing you a quick glance. Jihyo's eyes flit to you for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah." Jihyo easily answers. "Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Jihoon, Vernon, Minghao, Jun and…" Her tongue wets her lips. "Wonwoo."
His name immediately makes your expression sour and everyone's gaze falls onto you, as if his name was some taboo word that sets you off immediately. Instead, you shrug, silently willing for this day to be over.
"I'm fine." You mutter, trying your best to assure them as you give them a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "What's the worse that could happen?"
THE CONFESSION
You want to curse whatever possessed you to say those words an hour ago.
It started off civil, you managed to avoid him till you had to force a smile onto your face as you greeted him and the rest of his members, the handshake that the two of you exchanged as stiff as it could've been. But it was fine.
The hosts asked the two of you questions, there was a little bit of teasing here and there but it was fine.
Until they announced the games that you and the rest would be playing.
"Next up!" The male host announces, making you sit up straighter. "After the break, we're moving onto our game section for the day which is the 'Horror Lineup'!"
At his words, you feel your heart drop in your stomach and your face pale.
Yunjin also freezes beside you after she hears the words and shoots you a small glance. You try to keep your expression neutral, an easy smile on your face but internally, you think you regret your words a little bit.
The hosts turn to you and the rest with a tantalizing smile on their faces. "However, this event comes with a twist!" The male host looks towards your team, eyeing you specifically. "We will be pairing you up with members on the other team so!" He looks back towards the cameras with a shifty expression and a big smirk, "Let's see the pairings!"
You feel your blood run cold at his words as the female host starts exaggeratedly clapping at his words. You feel Yunjin's eyes on you but you couldn't bring yourself to look at her as your eyes lock with the man across the room.
Yeah, you seriously regret uttering those words.
"This can't be happening." You think aloud as you collapse onto the couch in the dressing room. "A horror game and he's my fucking partner?!" You want to run a hand down your face in distress. "The world has got to be against me."
Your teammates stare at you, unsure of how to comfort you when Eun Chae speaks up.
"Maybe he will be civil this time!" She supplies, a little nervously.
"Maybe over my dead body." You bluntly mutter, sinking in deeper into the couch.
"How about one of us request to switch partners?" Tzuyu offers. Jihyo, however, shakes her head as she silently paces while Yunjin takes a seat beside you.
"I don't think they'd agree to it." Jihyo says softly. "They know all about the famous rivalry between Jeon and Icy. They might just want to do it more if we protest it or suggest the member switch." She shakes her head. "It's probably been their goal from the start when they wanted all of us to be on this show."
"Those assholes." Yunjin mutters, her fists clenching a little. If it was any other scenario, you would've barked out a laugh at her swearing, however all you can do is stare upwards at the ceiling and let your thoughts run wild.
The room falls suffocatingly silent as you feel your nerves spike, your heart hammering fast in the confinements of your chest as you feel your member's eyes on you. Your restlessness gets the better of you making you shoot out of your seat which makes a few of your members jump in surprise.
You shoot them an apologetic look before excusing yourself. "I need some air."
With that, you take off. You push the dressing room door, speedwalking down the hallway. You aren't sure where you're going but you just knew you needed to get out of there before the walls completely swallow you whole.
Your prayers are answered as you push open a firm white door which leads you to the roof of the building. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with fresh air as you feel the weight on your shoulders start to lift. You eye the skyline as you watch the sun start to dip below the horizon, feeling your worries start to dissipate from inside your veins as you walk closer to the railing. You lean against it as a gust of wind washes over you, increasing the serenity of the scenery.
"Enjoying the scenery?"
You jolt, jumping a little before you whip your head to see Wonwoo stood behind you, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.
"Are you the fucking devil, Jeon?!" You ask, your hand on your chest as you will your heart to calm down. "You're going to give someone a heart attack if you make yourself known like that."
You see a ghost of a smirk tug at the corners of Wonwoo's mouth. "Didn't answer my question, Icy."
You roll your eyes as you cross your own arms. "I enjoyed it a lot more before you made yourself known to me."
Wonwoo barks out a bitter laugh as he pushes himself off of the wall. He takes a few steps towards you, "Have a problem with horror games, Icy?"
You blink in surprise at his question before quickly schooling your expression. "What's it to you?"
He shrugs. "You just looked like you were going to pass out when they mentioned it." A snarky smirk appears on his face as he fixes you with a mocking pout and a condescending head tilt. "Do you need me to hold your hand later so that the scary monsters don't get you?"
Your jaw clenches as you resist the urge to slap the annoying expression off of his face. "You're such an asshole." You bite out, your tone laced with venom as you glare at the taller man. "What is your problem with me?"
Wonwoo's eyebrows furrow as his expression does a 180 and he's glaring at you. "I should be asking you that." He mutters lowly, taking another step towards you. "You're the one walking into every room glaring at me with the power of a thousand suns. I was willing to let it go the first few times but when you suddenly started making it your personal mission to get me out first in all the League games, that's where I draw the line."
You feel your blood boil more. "Are you saying that this fucking rivalry is my fault?"
"If the shoe fits!"
A sarcastic laugh escapes you as you shake your head. "You're such an asshole, Jeon." You mutter out, trying to push past the man.
"No." Wonwoo sternly says, blocking your path. "You started this. Tell me what your fucking problem with me is."
Your jaw clenches more. "Jeon—"
"No, we're settling this here and now because if I have to play nice later in-front of everyone. I have to at least know what I did for you to act as if I took a shit in your goddamn cheerios."
If you weren't so pissed off with the man standing in-front of you, you would have found that joke funny but all you see is red as you jab a finger into Wonwoo's chest.
"You wanna know what my goddamn problem with you is?!" You hiss, nudging him hard with your finger. "Fine! It's the fact that you always think you're the fucking smartest in the room and God forbid a rookie tries to beat you at your own stupid game because you're such a sore ass loser — and the rookie actually fucking looked up to you by the way. And don't even get me started on—"
"What?" Wonwoo says, interrupting you before you can continue your ramble, his eyebrows scrunching. "What the fuck was that?"
"What the fuck was what?"
"That rookie example that you used."
You feel your heart stop as you realize what you had just told this godforsaken man.
"Was that you?" He asks, his voice dropping a few decibels, barely above the breath of a whisper.
"No." You quickly reply as you refuse the meet the man's gaze.
"Oh my god. It was you." Wonwoo says softly, taking a step backwards to fully see your expression.
"No—"
"Icy."
You feel a little vulnerable in-front of the man, knowing that you just exposed something that you should've taken to your grave.
"Drop it, Jeon." You mutter out, unsure of what to do now that your adrenaline of your ramble had died. "You called me lucky during my debut match when all I did was look up to you." You chuckle lowly. "Maybe that was a petty ass reason to kinda hate your guts but that match meant everything to me and I worked hard to get to where I was. And for you to just say that it was fucking luck…" You cut yourself off with a soft scoff as you fix your eyes on his shoes. "That fucking sucked."
Wonwoo is silent for the first time, your words rendering him absolutely speechless which makes you shift uncomfortably.
"I'll see you later, Jeon." You mutter, pushing past the man. You stop in-front of the door that leads back inside. "I promise I won't be too much of a bother later. So just…" You hesitate, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek. "Just fucking forget whatever I said."
With that, you pull the door open and leave Wonwoo standing there with his thoughts.
DO YOU HATE THE PLAYER?
"Wow!" The host announces, wiping a stray tear from his eye from how much he was laughing. "That was a fantastic combination of wit and whimsy from our two team captains!" Seungcheol helps Jihyo step off the platform before giving her a smile which she returns with ease as they walk back to their seats. "They really show their stellar leadership skills in switching between being team players and leaders through this game show."
The female host flashes a smile as she nods at the male host's words. "You said it!" She turns back to the cameras, her eyes glinting. "Now, for our final pair. The feistiest set of rivals in all of E-Sport history. Wonwoo and Icy!"
You slide out of your chair, a fake smile plastered on your lips as you 'confidently' walk up to the steps of the platform. You refuse to look at Wonwoo as he settles beside you, even though you can feel his eyes on you.
"Now," The male host says, turning to the two of you. "As said before, one of you would need to put on the VR headset and go through one of the two rooms of your choice. The other will be guiding you through the maze that is set in that room but beware of the dangers lurking in between the turns." He eyes the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Got it?"
You nod as Wonwoo grunts in acknowledgement.
The host turns to you, a glint in his eyes that makes your skin crawl as he holds out the headset to you. "Seeing as you're known as the most confident member in ST4RL1GHT, I assume you would be taking the headset and doing the maze!"
The action stuns you, rendering you a little dumbfounded as you stare at the white headset in his hands. For the rest of the pairs, they just left the headset on the pedestal in-front and let the pair discuss who would be taking the challenge.
You open your mouth, about to accept your fate and take the headset when Wonwoo stops you.
"I'll do it." He answers, making you blink in surprise as he glances at you. "I've seen Icy's comms and I think she would do a better job of guiding me through the maze than I would. I also know that my navigational skills are pretty good so I will be able to follow her instructions."
The male host falters slightly as he stares at Wonwoo's outstretched hand. "Really?" The guy hesitantly says. "I feel that Icy might be better at going through the maze because—"
"Because you planned this around the fact that you heard that she hated horror games and wanted to personally humiliate her on the show?" Wonwoo finishes, raising an eyebrow.
At those words, the host pales as his jaw drops open. "H-how—"
Wonwoo shrugs. "The hallways are pretty echoey, don't you think." He bluntly states. "I just so happened to be in the hallway where you were laughing at what a misfortune it would be when the Ice Queen of ST4RL1GHT falters and screams at this pathetic horror game."
You jolt a little feeling a hand linking with yours making you peer to your side to see Jihyo standing there with her leader face on. "I think it's time for us to take our leave." She says, plastering on a fake but serious smile. "I don't think we will be coming back to this show but we thank you for inviting us."
You feel a few other people line up beside you making you look to your left and right to see the rest of the girls stepping into line with you and Jihyo. Their faces are filled with unamused expressions as Yunjin takes a glance at you, giving you a warm smile before squeezing your shoulder in a firm reassurance that says 'We got you.'
"I think it's the same for us as well." You hear Seungcheol say as you see the GAM3BOIs stand up as well, moving towards the front. "Thank you for having us as well but," he locks eyes with you, sending you a small reassuring smile before it disappears as he turns back to the hosts. "We can't be on a show where the hosts have a secret vendetta against their guests and want to humiliate them."
With that, the sixteen of you leave the room, leaving the hosts blinking owlishly at all of you, unsure of what to do. You giggle at their reaction as you hear the producers start to chastise the two of them, wondering how their ratings were going to do. In any other situation, you probably would've felt bad for how badly they were getting told off but you can't bring yourself to care after they tried to use one of your biggest weaknesses against you.
You hear a soft breath of your name being called making you stop in your tracks and turn to face the individual. There stands a nervous Wonwoo who looks almost as if he was silently cursing himself for calling your name.
Jihyo looks between you and the man before detaching herself from you. "We'll see you inside." She whispers to you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before pushing the rest of the girls towards the dressing room.
"You think he's going to confess to her—"
"Shut up Eun Chae!" Chaewon hisses. "He's right there!"
"But—"
You shake your head as their voice trail off down the hallway, leaving you with a very awkward Wonwoo.
"What can I do for you, Jeon?" You ask, an attempt to break the ice when it becomes clear that the man was not going to do it himself.
The man shuffles uncomfortably in place before he opens his mouth. "I wanted to apologize for being an asshole when we first met." He softly says, fiddling with his hands. "I'm also sorry that it took you telling me to realize what I had done wrong and I have no excuse for saying that it was luck based." He clicks his tongue before he continues his ramble. "I actually remember that first friendly match. I was upset with something one of my teammates did and I took it out on you by calling you lucky because I wasn't thinking clearly that day. I know it's not a good excuse but for what it's worth, I thought you were one of the best players I saw that day. You made quite the impression."
His apology and words make a warmth spread through your chest. You clear your throat as you cross your arms in-front of your chest.
"Thank you." You softly say. "For the apology and also for doing what you did just now."
Wonwoo shakes his head. "Small matter." He mutters. "Someone needed to put those assholes in their place."
His words make a small smile tug at the corner of your mouth.
"They really were assholes, huh." You say as you watch a ghost of a grin appear on Wonwoo's face. He lets out a low chuckle as he scratches the back of his nape.
"Yeah, they were." He assures you, his voice rumbles making a shiver run down your spine. "Kinda upsetting to be honest." He admits, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I'm actually a really big fan of their content."
Your eyes widen at his confession. "So am I."
Wonwoo looks at you with a surprised look before a devastating smile appears on his face. "Looks like we might have more in common than we thought."
You feel your heart start to race as a flush erupts up your neck. "Yeah." You honestly say. "We might."
You feel a comfortable silence envelope the two of you before you hear loud noises down the hallway, recognizing them as Wonwoo's teammates. You see him realize it as well as his eyes flit from you to the hallway behind you.
"You should go." You say, taking a step to the side. "I probably need to get going too."
Wonwoo hesitates for a second, glancing between you and the hallway before nodding. He starts to take a few steps towards the hallway behind you before he turns and faces you.
"Does this mean we're friends now?" He asks making you blink at him.
You raise an eyebrow at the man before feigning a ponder when you realize how nervous he's being. "I don't know." You softly tease. "Might need a rematch of that friendly so that I can make you eat those words."
Wonwoo blinks before he lets out a soft breath of a laugh, shaking his head before he looks back up at you. "Deal." He says, holding out his hand for you to shake. "Till the rematch then."
You bite back a smile as you shake his hand. "Till the rematch." You repeat. You feel him tilt both your hands so that his is on top before he slips something into your hand. You quizzically look at him as he pulls his hand out of your grasps before closing your knuckles around the object in your hand.
All he does is give you another devastating smile before he takes off down the hallway without another word.
You glance at your hand, unclenching it slowly to see a folded piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrow as you open it before a small smile appears on your face as you read the words on it.
xxx-xxx-xxxx, hope I can continue to make it up to you.
it’s silly, but wonwoo is dancing with you after almost everyone’s left your home. his little birthday party was more than a success, and he’s practically glowing now from all of the love he’s received. mingyu’s in your kitchen putting leftovers away (at his own insistence: the two of you will be cleaning everything else up, let him do one more thing for you both), and you’ve swept wonwoo into this silly little moment with you. its messy and loose, the way you swing him around and just move to the music with him, trying your best to get him to laugh with you before you have to be adults again and clean.
so he does. he laughs, and laughs a little more out of love when he sees the way you brighten up even more at your success.
“i love you,” you drag the words out as your chest bumps against his, fingers intertwined together. “mister handsome birthday guy.”
he snorts this time. you’re cute. maybe he’ll put your words on a shirt to wear on his birthday next year, because he knows you’ll laugh a little at the way he always holds onto the silly things you say and it’ll be your silly joke together. another thing to lock away in his heart, filed under ours.
he just twirls you instead to hear you cackle before he kisses you, and falls a little more in love with you.
PAIRING: bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader (fem!reader)
SUMMARY: it wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, however, the people had a lot to say about that, especially since your father a public figure. but when he’s falsely accused of taking bribes and money laundering, your whole life falls apart, and things start to get out of hand and dangerous. that’s when you meet wonwoo - the bodyguard who’s been assigned to stay by your side and protect you 24/7. the only problem? he was really cold, but also irresistibly attractive. it was going to be a task to try and befriend him, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge.
THEMES: bodyguard au, mutual pining, slow burn
WARNINGS: use of curse words, mentions of anxiety, social anxiety, panic attack, crowds, fighting, violence, kissing, suggestive, just wonwoo being a whole heartthrob
WORDCOUNT: 29.2k
A/N: this fic was so self-indulgent oh my god. thank you to rania @wheeboo for feeding my delusions for this fic and proofreading it for me, ilysm <33 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^^ i would love to know your thoughts! enjoy reading ^^
full fic under the cut
“all right, class, that’s it for today. please come collect your mock test papers as you exit”, the professor announces and everyone starts talking, the room echoing with voices and movement as people get up, their feet shuffling as they stand in line to collect their papers from the front.
you come up in front and your professor gives you a smile as he hands yours back to you. “good job yn, near perfect score”, he says and you smile back. “thanks prof”, you tell, beaming as you take your paper and move. but you don’t miss the snide remark told by someone behind you and the few laughs that occur. but you ignore the comment and walk away.
you were used to people telling you that, people envying you and not in a nice way. you’d heard all kinds of things all your life. “bet they only got in because of her connections” or “they’re only top of the class because of they’re father’s influence” but all of those were very untrue. you were truly passionate about what you were studying and doing, but the people didn’t seem to think so.
yes, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, coming from a prestigious family with a lot of influence - your dad being a huge business tycoon, which made your family really rich and influential. but growing up, you wanted nothing more than to be not associated with him. your name was always tied with his - and you hated that. it never gave you the chance to be your own person, to have your own identity, which you craved for.
growing up only became harder when your mother passed away when you were still young. she was ill and there was nothing that could be done to save her, it had been too late. your moments and memories with her were limited considering you were only ten when she passed away, but still, everything you remembered about her you cherished, and you aimed to make her proud one day, proud of the person you’ve become. as a token from your mother, you had kept her ring and no, not her wedding ring, but another ring she wore. it was a dainty ring with a pretty pattern and you had always loved that ring as a child. so now you wore it, to remember her, to keep some part of her with you.
and of course, with growing up, the biggest struggle of all for you was making friends. when you were younger, you were actually good at making friends, you had plenty in fact. but as you grew up, you learned to see who was just befriending you for ulterior motives and whatnot, and you soon became good at filtering who you really became friends - close friends with. but in all those years, you only made two friends like that. they were the purest and sweetest souls ever - rania and skye. they were your best friends. they were your childhood friends and the only ones you opened up to and grew close to. while you still had a group of friends you interacted with on an everyday and casual basis, there wasn’t anyone you were close with besides them. there was also your current boyfriend - jaehyun. it was silly really, you had a crush on him for a while and soon the news spread from god knows where and one day he asked you out. you were so head over heels that you said yes of course, because which fool would turn down their crush?
you're sitting across the table from your father, who’s busy talking to someone on the phone. it was a weekly thing that you had to have dinner at your father’s house.
"yes i want to see a sample of the product before we send it into manufacturing”, your father speaks to the person on the other line.
you stare down at your plate, moving your fork around as you listen to him speak. you and your father didn’t have the best relationship, it was rocky and messy, to say the least. ever since your mother passed away, you both drifted apart, your father focusing on the business and you just trying to get through the days as you tried to cope with the sudden loss. and you both somehow stayed like that, drifted apart. but that didn’t mean he was a bad guy. he still did nice things for you and you both had your moments, but it was strained. let's just say he wasn't the best father figure growing up.
you were used to having filler conversations about your life with your father like this. all he does is nod before he goes back to scrolling on his phone. half the time during your childhood and even now, you barely saw your father. he was always busy with work or attending meetings about god knows what. so that meant you were all alone in the big house which got lonely. that’s when you decided to move into a different house, have your own space and make it cosy too. at first, your father wasn’t too keen on the idea, but you were old enough now, in college too, so he agreed. so now you live alone in a house comfortable enough to make into your own little safe haven.
you unlock your front door, sliding into your house slippers as you trudge inside, discarding your bag on the couch as you open the fridge to grab a bottle of cold water to refresh yourself. today had been a long day. apart from studies, you also volunteered at a local cat shelter for rescues and the local public library. you enjoyed doing both things so you were more than happy to volunteer. they both had their perks 1) free cuddles and serotonin from all the kittens and cats 2) you could borrow as many books as you wanted so it was a win-win.
you were used to your father being on the news, he was a businessman after all, an influential man, someone important. but with all that came all the trolls, the hate and people who were obviously jealous and disliked him for no reason at all. all this in turn was also directed towards you. you were often called the silver spoon kid, nepo baby, or someone who’s life was handed to you on a silver platter. for the most of the time, you tried to ignore them, but of course as any normal human, it affected you. you hated it at times infact. you hated how people could concoct a ridiculous assumption about you based on nothing and it infuriated you. but you’d learn to grow up with it, grow up being watched, hounded at, judged at and trolled at. that was what you get for simply existing and being born in a wealthy family. and somewhere along the way you developed an anxiety about this and it made you scared to get close and open up to people.
when you first joined college, it was hell. people took pictures without your consent all the time and they still did at times, but you’ve given up at trying to stop it. you were used to people's cameras at you, fingers at you, talking about you and also using you. everyone wanted to be your friend and butter you up to you, but when you started putting boundaries, they were quick to call you names. you were surrounded by paparazzi going to you during the first week and even now on the occasional basis, someone was always following you and snapping pictures of you. even if you told yourself it was okay, it was not and deep down you hated it. but what could you do?
your father, well he didn’t seem to mind all the comments being told about him, as long as his business went well at the end of the day. but if you were going to be honest, your father was pretty smart and he had a knack for what he was doing, that’s what made him so successful. but that didn’t mean he didn’t hit bumps along the way, oh he did. you still remember the headline your father made when he invested money into a broken startup. but now he was making millions as the company took off.
today morning was a good day. the sun was shining bright and the clouds were white against the blue sky. it wasn’t too hot, a comfortable temperature - it was the ideal day and you were more than happy about this weather. you get ready for college, it was your last semester before you graduated. you grab your phone from the desk table only to realise it was dead and you plug it in as you head to the bathroom to get ready. you quickly put on an outfit, grab your books, bag, and your phone on the way out. you lock your door and raise your hand to unlock your car, opening the door and sitting inside. you drive to college, putting on some music, in a good mood today as you softly sing along to the song that was playing on the radio.
you park your car in the parking lot, which was already crowded and you mentally cursed at the way people parked sometimes. you exit the car and walk towards campus, trying to unlock your phone but it doesn't open. that’s when you realise it was still dead - silly you had forgot to turn on the switch when you plugged your phone in. you mentally curse as you walk towards class, hoping someone had a spare phone charger for you to use. but that’s when you get a feeling - a feeling that you were being watched. and when you glance up, you can see people looking at you, whispering things in hushed voices between themselves. you brushed it off as nothing and continued walking.
a couple of people pass by you, looking right at you as they pass a comment. “see i knew your father was a crooked man”, he tells and the others laugh as they walk away. what? you were completely confused and the fact that almost everyone was looking at you as you kept walking made you nervous all of a sudden. this wasn’t good. you spot your professor and he comes walking towards you, in big strides, like he is in a hurry. “hello yn”, he says, faking a smile. “hello professor”, you reply. “i would like to have a word with you, please follow me”. he says and you can still feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walk behind your professor.
he closes the door behind him and urges you to sit down as he takes a seat in front of you.
“i’m sorry to hear about your father yn”, he starts and you furrow your brows, utterly confused. “i would like for you to meet with the principal so we can hopefully come to an understanding about how you will be completing your semester over here”, he continues and you’re lost.
“i’m sorry but i don’t quite follow”, you say, and he just blinks back at you.
“do you not know? have you not seen the news?”, he asks, surprised.
“what news?”, you ask again and watch as he fetches out his phone, handing it to you. and there it was, the headline that made your jaw drop.
“mr. __ a certified criminal, took bribes and laundered money”.
what the fuck? your eyes quickly scan the article, reading the things your father was being accused of. there was no way he would do that, he wouldn't you thought. you look back up at your professor and hand the phone back to him, at a complete loss for words.
“i really had no idea about this”, you tell. “i think it would be better for you to go home today and then we can have a talk about this later this week along with the principal okay”, he says and you’re dismissed. you take a deep breath as you open the door and walk out, and hallway is quick to quiet down and you can feel the eyes of everyone on you.
“hope your father rots in jail”, you hear a guy say and the others laugh. you hear a few more snide remarks as you walk out back to your car and you take a deep breath again. what the fuck was happening right now. you start the car and drive to your father’s house because you need answers.
you storm into the house, and your father is already sitting down at the table with his lawyer. “can someone please explain what is going on”, you yell as soon as you see your father.
“yn” , your father says, upon seeing you.
“you took bribes??”, you ask and you can see the small flash of hurt on his face before he composes himself as he answers you. “no yn, this is simply not true. i am being falsely accused”, he says calmly.
“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask.
“this is defamation, there is absolutely no evidence to these claims”, your father fills in.
a week passes by and you somehow manage to make it to class, but obviously, everyone is still talking about you. rumors are goingand around like wildfire and people keep telling you nasty things, leaving you mean comments on your social media. even the paparazzi around you are following you everywhere suddenly and you hate this. your whole world was turning upside down and you find yourself driving to your father’s house that evening again, only to see people crowded around the house. puzzled, you get out of your car and you're immediately surrounded by the paparazzi and a hound of people as they recognise you. you see your father in the crowd and that’s when you notice the police officers and then the handcuff on your father’s hands.
“father!”, you yell out and he looks at you. you try to move forward, make your way towards him but someone pushes you down before someone else grabs your hand. “you little thief, no wonder you’re so rich”, he mutters out and you try to pry his hand off you but he doesn’t let go. “yn!” you hear your father yell and soon the police pry the man off you. you watch as your father is escorted into the police vehicle he’s driven off.
the camera flashes continue and people keep yelling nasty things and you run towards your car, getting in and following the police car. at the police station, you get a chance to talk to your father with his lawyer present.
“what is happening?”, you ask. “i thought you said this was a false accusation, why are you being arrested?”, you ask, looking between your father and his lawyer, jeonghan who was a competent man in his line of business.
“it seems there has been some evidence found", your father says, in a rather relaxed manner.
“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask, worried.
“i will have to stand trial and prove my innocence”, he adds. you see as he glances down at your wrist which you’re massaging gently.
“are you okay, i saw what happened back there’, he adds.
“y-yeah im okay”, you tell quickly.
“no, this is not okay. you’re going to be affected by all the things happening now and things are getting dangerous and out of hand”, he tells.
“i can manage”, you say.
“no, you cannot, things will only get worse from here, especially when the trial starts and they are all going to be taking their anger out on you. i cannot risk anything happening to you. so it’s decided”, your father says.
“what’s decided?”, you ask.
“you’ll be having a bodyguard with you 24/7 from now onwards”, your father adds.
“what? father there is no need-", you start before you're interrupted.
“yn listen to your father, he is right” jeonghan interjects and you sigh. there was no point arguing over here. in hindsight, things were bound to get out of control and having a bodyguard around did seem wise. the thought that something worse could happen to you makes you shiver.
“hire only the best”, my father tells and jeonghan nods. “i know just the person” he tells, assuring my father.
you didn’t step out of your house the next day. paparazzi surrounded your home and you were in no ability to go out without being followed. the pictures of your father’s arrest and your face were plastered all over the internet and new articles, with all sorts of headlines. by 12pm everyone seemed to have gotten tired of waiting (thank god) and your driveway was finally clear. you’re in jeans and a top, rummaging through your pantry when you hear your doorbell ring. you immediately stand straight. who could this be?
you walk towards your door and peek through the peephole but you can only see the body of someone and you hear a voice you recognise. your father’s lawyer - jeonghan, so you open the door.
“i didn’t know you were coming”, you tell and smile. “i texted you”, he adds. “must've missed it”, you add before glancing at the other man standing next to him, who you noticed was quite tall.
“please come in “, you add only for jeonghan to refuse. “no no, i must get going to prepare for your father’s case. i just came to introduce you to your bodyguard”, he explains.
“oh, i see”, you tell softly.
“he’ll be with you wherever you’re going. escort and protect you wherever you’re going. i’ve already briefed him and given him a copy of your schedules, but if you’re going anywhere, he is to accompany you”, he tells you, making sure you knew, like he knew you would try to sneak off.
“yes yes alright”, you tell, crossing your arms over your chest.
“well, get introduced then, i have to get going”, he tells, as his phone rings and he walks off, leaving you standing in front of the door with this mysterious man.
as you look at him, you realise how tall he was because wow, he was really tall, and really handsome. he towered over you easily as you looked up at him. he’s wearing a clean, crisp black suit, which has been tailored to his body, making the fit perfect, showing off his build and his hair was styled to expose his forehead. his foxy-like eyes hold a mysterious but focused gaze. damn, he was hot. your eyes sweep over his body one more time before he’s clearing his throat and you're shaken away from your thoughts.
“hello, im jeon wonwoo and i'll be your bodyguard from today”, he tells, his voice deep as he looks at you, his alluring gaze catching your attention.
“hi! i’m yn! nice to meet you”, you say a little too enthusiastically as you hold out your hand for a handshake. you’re already cringing at your actions but wonwoo reaches out and shakes your hand nonetheless and gives you a small nod.
after that there is a moment of awkward silence before you speak again. “um i don’t think i’ll be going anywhere today so you can start tomorrow”, you tell. you didn’t want him to be waiting around unnecessarily. he just looks down at you.
“i have been assigned to stay by your side at all times”, he tells. “but i’m just going to be home”, you tell. “it’s fine uh - i can call you wonwoo right?”, you ask and he gives you a curt yes.
“right wonwoo, it’s all right, just clock off work, it’s fine for today”, you tell and he looks like he’s thinking before he speaks again.
“if you insist”, is all he says before he gives you a small nod of acknowledgement, telling you he’ll be here tomorrow before he’s turning around and walking off.
the next morning, you’re sleeping peacefully when you hear your doorbell ring. who was at your doorstep so early? you must be hearing things you think. after a few moments you hear your doorbell ring again and you groan as you let out a yawn, unwillingly getting out of bed as you drag your feet to the door, your eyes barely open, still laced with sleep. you open the door to see a tall figure in front of you, your eyes still unfocused and you're confused before you hear the voice.
“good morning”, he tells and you blink your eyes a couple of times before you realise who it was.
“oh wonwoo hi”, you tell, trying to process this information. “it’s only uh-” “7am”, he fills in.
“right, 7am”, you tell, yawning again. “why are you here so early?”, you ask and your eyes a bit more awake now to take in the sight in front of you. wonwoo was adorned in another crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled and you could smell the waft of his cologne as you stood.
“my working hours start from 7am”, he tells matter of factly. “right, uh okay just come in”, you tell, moving inside, not bothering to see if he was following you. you go back to your room to fetch your phone, seeing an email from your professor. they wanted to have a meeting with the principal - well this couldn’t be good.
the entire time you’re getting ready, wonwoo is just standing in one corner of your hall. you told him he could sit but he insisted on standing so you just shrug your shoulders and let it go. you don’t have the time to eat breakfast and you lock your house door, about to get in the car when wonwoo speaks again.
“i’ll drive”, he tells, holding his hand out for the key.
“oh no, it’s fine i can manage”, you tell.
“i’ve been told to drive you wherever you need”, he adds, looking at you and he had the look of someone you did not want to interfere in his work with.
there was no point arguing with this man was there? you sigh, handing him the key and sitting in the front seat next to him because sitting in the complete back would make you feel weird. wonwoo somehow knew the route to your college and he parks the car effortlessly in the parking lot, which is honestly impressive. (or you just had bad parking skills shh)
you see the crowd as you step out, and through all the people and you can even spot a few paparazzi if you looked carefully. you glance back at wonwoo and then the campus entrance. if you went with wonwoo, you were definitely going to get attention - unwanted attention that is. he was obviously going to stand out in that outfit of his.
“just stay here, i’ll be back, it’ll be quick”, you say.
“i'm afraid i can’t do that, i’m assingned to accompany you wherever you go as your bodyguard”, he says, looking at you.
“i know, but i’ll be quick, nothing will happen”, you add as you unbuckle your seatbelt.
“i will be accompanying you”, he responds. even with all those looks he was really dense huh, it was like talking to a wall.
“fine god just come”, you finally tell, slightly annoyed. jeonghan really got you a tough bodyguard didn't he.
as soon as you step foot on campus, everyone’s head turns towards you and obviously everyone is whispering something about the man following behind you - wonwoo. you mentally curse as the crowd around you becomes larger as you walk, everyone stopping to see what was going on. wonwoo is quick to maintain an arm’s distance outside as he walks beside you and making sure people don't surround you. you try to look down as you just walk ahead, straight into the principal's office. wonwoo stands outside.
“yn glad you could make it”, your professor says, as the principal sits beside, just giving you a small nod.
“what did we need to talk about”, you ask, looking between your principal and professor.
you watch as your principal sits up straighter, interlocking his palms on the table before they speak.
“i know you just have a semester left before you graduate”, he starts off. “but given the current situation, it would be hard for us to continue classes with you being present”, he adds.
“i could do online classes”, you suggest but you principle just shakes his head.
“yn, we acknowledge the effort and dedication you have demonstrated throughout your academic journey at our institution. your accomplishments have been commendable, and we recognize the hard work you have put into your studies”, he starts. “we really do yn”, your professor adds.
“but we have to bring attention to a significant concern that has risen due to recent incidents involving you and a related controversy”, your principal continues.
oh god, where was this conversation going. you’re about to open your mouth to speak when your principle starts talking again.
“the college has carefully assessed the situation and after thorough consideration, it has been determined that unfortunately, you will be unable to graduate at this time. this decision is a result of the impact of the controversy on the overall reputation and values of the institution”, he finishes and it takes you two seconds to fully understand the situation and what was exactly going on right now.
“what?”, you let out, shocked. “we know this might be sudden but we are-”,
“no no, this is not fair, you can’t do this”, you interject.
“it is fair, considering the reputation of our institution is on the line”, he adds.
“excuse me?”, you scoff. “i'm in no way related to what is going on right now”, you add.
“it is involving your father”, he says. “exactly, my father, not me. so i do not see why you would have to go to this extreme”, you tell, not letting this go lightly.
“yn”, your professor says in a warning tone.
“four years. four years of my life i’ve spent studying and working hard and you’re just gonna throw that all away and not let me graduate over a controversy? over something that is not true let me tell you that”, you tell, upset. “that’s not right and not fair”, you add. “letting me graduate is the least you can do, it’s only a semester come on”, you plead.
“the decision is final”, your principal tells.
“what no, you can let me take the semester later, i can still graduate then”, you suggest, trying to be hopeful but the air in the room was tense.
“yn thank you for your time and we wish you all the luck in your future”, you principal tells, completely dismissing you.
“you can’t do this, you’ll be hearing from me remember that”, you tell, standing up and pulling the door open, walking out. the hallways are thankfully relatively empty because it’s class hours and everyone was in the lecture halls or study rooms. but as you turn you bump into jaehyun.
“jaehyun hi!”, you tell as you approach him. “i'm so sorry i haven’t been able to text you, i’ve been so occupied”, you tell as jaehyun barely looks at you as you speak, checking his phone, texting someone else.
“i’m free this week though so i thought we could go out to dinner or something”, you suggest, hoping that maybe a date would help you get your mind off things.
“yeah i’m not sure about that”, he tells. “oh are you busy? we can-”
“listen yn, considering everything going on right now, i wouldn’t want to be seen with you”, he tells and you’re hurt by his words.
“but i don’t see how that matters if you like me”, you tell, trying to hold it together.
jaehyun only lets out a small laugh. “like you? i only dated you because you were rich, was a nice thing to boast about until your dad had to be revealed as a thief”, he tells, mocking you and his words sting.
“that’s not true”, you tell. “i hope he rots in jail”, he adds, before leaving, having completely trampled over your heart and feelings.
you’ve completely forgotten about wonwoo and it’s only when you turn around that you see him, a few paces behind you and no doubt he heard everything, just great. you bite the inside of your cheek as you look down, walking ahead and walking straight to the car, embarrassed but also upset. you get in the car, not bothering for wonwoo to open the door for you and sit inside, tears welling in your eyes. wonwoo stands outside like he’s unsure, giving you a moment of privacy before you’re rolling down the window and telling him to drive you home.
the car ride is quiet and you’re just looking out the window the entire time, trying not to cry. it wasn't fair. any of this wasn’t fair. you just wanted to curl up and hide right now. you can feel your stomach rumbling, protesting for not being given breakfast and you sigh, putting a hand on your stomach. now that you were aware, you were actually really hungry. you had half the mind to stop somewhere and buy something but you didn’t want to deal with people right now.
“did you eat breakfast?”, you ask wonwoo, feeling suffocated with the silence in the car.
“not exactly, but i did eat something”, he informs. you nod your head, thinking of what else to ask him.
“so how come you chose this bodyguard business”, you ask, glancing over at wonwoo.
“it suits me, i’m good at it”, he replies, giving you a short answer.
“right, i see”.
a few more seconds of silence follows before wonwoo speaks. “are you okay?”, he asks, his eyes still trained on the road ahead of him. his question takes you aback. it had been ages since someone asked you that. are you okay? those three words that had the capability of making you rethink your life and look into yourself. were you okay? no, not really. life sucked right now and you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and cry.
“i-i don’t know”, you answer, letting out a sigh as your fingers play with your mother's ring on your hand, something you did when you were anxious or lost in thought.
“i’m used to it, it’s fine”, you add quickly.
after a few more minutes, wonwoo is pulling up into your driveway and he parks the car, getting out. you don’t know how this man managed to walk so fast because just as you’re about to turn your body to open the door, wonwoo is already there, holding the car door open for you.
“oh um thank you”, you tell softly as you get out.
you realized it was going to take you a while to break into wonwoo’s wall and befriend him. it looked like he was going to be with you for a while, until the trial was over atleast so might as well become friends. he did prove to be a hell though, it was like talking to a robot, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge?
it’s a new week and wonwoo is driving you to the cat shelter since it’s your day to volunteer today. atleast during all these sudden changes in your life, this was a constant. it felt comforting in a way. the animal shelter was run by a sweet lady who also adored you. coming here always made you feel better, no matter how shitty your day had been.
you enter the shelter and immediately all the cats recognise your scent and meow, as if they were welcoming you. the owner comes out to see what the commotion was about and smiles upon seeing you.
“yn! it’s so nice to see you”, she greets, pulling you in for a hug.
“it’s good to be back”, you tell.
“who’s this mystery man”, she asks, referring to wonwoo.
“my bodyguard. with everything happening and the trial and all, things are getting out of hand ”, you explain and she nods. “quite the catch isn’t he”, she says, teasing you and you chuckle.
“i'm so sorry to hear about all this though, just know i’m here for you”, she tells.
“thank you”, you tell, grateful.
“well you carry on, i just need to finish writing these invoices and i’ll join you”, she adds, walking back to the office room and you’re left alone with all the cats.
“hello fluffy”, you tell, looking down to the cat who’s brushing against your legs,
wonwoo stands at the side of the room like he’s been punished even though you again insist that he can sit down but he insists on standing. you sigh, whatever suited him. you turn your attention back to the cats surrounding you and start your duties.
you had to clean their litter, feed them and make sure the ones who were on medication were given the medicine. after you’re done cleaning the litter, you realise you need to open a new bag of litter, the only problem? it was 15kgs heavy and in no way were you capable of lifting that huge bag to the litterbox area. you go back to the front and wonwoo is still standing, his hands neatly folded in front of him as he just stares at the wall. he really needs to relax you thought. you walk up to him, hands on your hip.
“i need your help, come here”, you ask and you hear the shuffle of wonwoo’s feet behind you as you walk.
“can you help me lift this?”, you ask, holding one end of the bag. wonwoo doesn’t say a word as he holds the bag and lifts it himself effortlessly and carries it to where you want it. damn, he was strong.
you fill up the box with new litter, washing your hands and come back to the front.
“i have a surprise for you”, you hear the owner say and she walks towards one of the boxes covered by a cloth. she uncovers it and a second later you hear a high pitched meow, followed by another and another.
“oh my god”, you squeal. “poe littered! i completely forgot she was due”, you tell, looking as she brings the box down and the kittens overflow out of the box in a frenzy, climbing out of the box and making their way towards you with their wobbly but determined feet. you bend down to see them and they’re adorable. you watch as the battalion of kittens make their way to wonwoo, climbing on his shoes and meowing up at him, ambushing him practically.
you giggle as one cheeky kitten even climbs up wonwoo’s suit and all the way to his shoulder, sitting there perched while wonwoo just stands there, completely ignoring the fact that he was being attacked by vicious kittens right now.
“you should adopt that one, it likes you”, you tell as you hold a kitten in your hands, referring to the one sitting perched on his shoulder.
“i already have a cat at home”, he tells and this piece of information makes you raise your brows in surprise.
“really? you have a cat”, you ask in surprise. “i do”, he answers quietly.
“oh my god, show me a picture”, you ask.
wonwoo only blinks at you. “i refrain from using my phone during work hours”, he tells smoothly and you roll your eyes.
“come on wonwoo, don’t be like that. it’s fine, just show me”, you ask again. “please?”, you add and wonwoo looks at you for a few more seconds before he’s moving his hand to remove his phone from his jacket pocket. the kitten on his shoulder makes a move, almost about to fall but wonwoo is quick to catch it and it’s now sitting in the palm of his hand, as he operates his phone with the other hand. he turns his phone towards you, revealing the picture of his cat.
“her name is oreo”, he tells.
“aww she’s so pretty and so cute!!”, you exclaim. wonwoo’s cat was gorgeous actually. she was a black cat with white paws, white whiskers and a patch of white on her neck and chest.
“she’s a rescue too”, he adds, and that little piece of information lifts your heart.
“that’s nice. her little white paws are adorable oh my gosh”, you tell as you smile up at wonwoo. “they’re like little socks”, you say, chuckling at yourself as you hand his phone back to him. you notice how the kitten in his hand was busy chewing the end of his tie. if you looked carefully, you could see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips right now as he watched the kitten playing in his hands. how cute.
wonwoo drives you back home after you finish all your duties at the shelter and you get a text from jeonghan about your father’s trial. the first trial was set for next week.
you're just at home and you’re certainly not used to the intrusion to your sleep at 7am every day now when wonwoo comes to work to start his duties. you told him to stay at home and you’d call him if you needed him but no, he didn’t listen. so here he was at 7am on the dot everyday at your doorstep. you yawn as you open the door, mumbling something to wonwoo about changing his work timings to 9am instead.
you’re brushing your teeth, walking around the room and you can see wonwoo standing as usual. you wash your face and head towards the kitchen. you needed coffee now. you glance towards wonwoo occasionally because honestly, even if he was just standing there, he looked so….effortlessly handsome. oh my god. you should not be having these thoughts right now. it was too early for this. you really needed some coffee to get your head straight.
“do you want some coffee?”, you ask wonwoo as you look at him.
“i’m good, thank you”, he says. of course he was going to say that.
“how do you like your coffee?”, you prod him again.
“black”, he says.
and of course he likes his coffee black.
“well, i like a latte, ice or hot depending on my mood, sometimes with caramel sauce if i’m feeling fancy but otherwise mostly plain”, you tell, dumping this piece of information onto wonwoo as you struggle to open your coffee powder jar. you try again but it wasn’t budging. you try again this time, trying to concentrate all your strength onto your hand, but it didn’t work and it wasn’t opening. without a word, wonwoo comes forward and offers to open it. he takes the jar from your hands and opens it effortlessly in one shot, probably because of his super strength. you mumble out a thank you and instead of letting him go back to that sad corner beside the wall, you ask him to take a seat in front.
“wonwoo, you should know that you standing there at the side of the room like you’ve been punished is just extremely weird. please sit, i’m not gonna kill you, seriously, i’m a nice person”, you explain, your hand pointing to the stool that was on the left of him. “i would prefer-”, he starts. “no, i would prefer if you just sat please. you’re supposed to listen to whatever i say right”, you tell, looking at him with your hands crossed over your chest.
he doesn’t say anything but finally takes a seat and you do a little celebration inside your head. “see! that’s so much better”, you tell, already feeling at ease.
you continue making your coffee and you’re halfway through making your coffee when you hear your doorbell ring. you glance at wonwoo before putting your mug down. but wonwoo gets up, telling you he’ll check who it was.
“who are you?”, you hear wonwoo ask as he opens the door and you walk up to the door, curious. “who is it?”, you ask and when the person comes into view, you let out an excited squeal.
“RANIAA”, you exclaim, accidentally pushing wonwoo to the side as you pull rania inside, only to see skye behind them. “OH MY GOD”, you exclaim again, pulling rania into a hug and then skye. meanwhile wonwoo just stands in the corner of the cramped doorstep, regaining his balance from your not so subtle shove.
“what are you guys doing here”, you ask, once all the excitement has toned down and both rania and skye are seated on the couch.
“we’ve been seeing the news and everything that’s been happening”, skye says.
“so we came to support you, it must be so hard right now”, rania adds.
“aw you guys are really the best”, you tell. it had been years since you last saw them, both of them having moved to different countries. though you guys were separated by distance, you were still connected by your unhinged and chaotic group chat.
“by the way, who’s the handsome hunk over there”, rania asks, not so subtly.
“rania jeez, he’s my bodyguard calm down”, you tell but you don’t miss the glint in their eyes.
“is he single”, rania asks and you glare at them.
“stop it”, you tell and skye chuckles beside you.
“wait, weren’t you dating jaehyun?”, skye adds and your face falls. “yeah about that, he uh dumped me”, you tell and skye is quick to pull you in a reassuring embrace.
“this is your sign to date that guy, shoot your shot before it’s too late bestie”, rania encourages, making you laugh.
“enough about me, how are you guys? how’s seungkwan and soonyoung”, you ask, eager to know more about them. you watch as rania and skye exchange a glance between themselves before looking at you.
“they’re coming here tomorrow”, they tell in unison and you almost yell. “really?”, you ask, shocked but also excited.
“they wanted to see you too so we dragged them along with us, but there was a goof up with the plane tickets and they had to rebook on a different flight”, skye explains.
“it’s okay, we can all go out together tomorrow”, you tell and they smile.
rania and skye end up going back at the end of the day and poor wonwoo had to witness you three maybe talk a little too much. you were sure he was glad when he clocked off work, beyond relieved he didn’t have to hear you all chatter anymore. even though you told him he could leave early, that you were going to just be home, he again didn't listen to you, saying that he would stay, saying something about upholding his duty. rania bombarded him with too many questions and you were sure he was going to get more from seungkwan and soonyoung tomorrow, poor guy.
the next day you’re excited to see your besties again and wonwoo is yet again standing near the wall like he’s a statue. you’ve given up at this point really. before they arrived, you briefed wonwoo on being nice to them, especially to seungkwan and soonyoung, who were probably going to hound him with questions again today. “don’t be mean to them if they ask you questions”, you tell, pointing a finger at wonwoo. “be nice to them okay?”, you tell, adding a little glare to make sure your point went across.
you wear a simple yet cute outfit and before you know it, your house is filled with laughter and smiles as soonyoung and seungkwan greet you.
“oh my god, it’s so nice to see you guys!”, you tell, excited as soonyoung and seungkwan smile back at you. “same here yn”, they tell.
“we planned a little double date”, skye tells. “make it a triple date, you can ask wonwoo to join”, rania adds, winking at you and you roll your eyes at her.
“who is what”, seungkwan asks, finally noticing the other presence in the room.
“my bodyguard. given the current situation my father thought it would be best”, you explain.
“woah he looks strong”, soonyoung adds and before you know it, both the boys make their way to wonwoo while you girls decide on where to go for your little double or well triple date.
“hello”, soonyoung says to wonwoo. wonwoo only responds with a small nod of his head, standing still.
“how long have you been a bodyguard for?”, seungkwan asks.
wonwoo glances at seungkwan, looks him up and down before answering. “four years”, wonwoo tells.
“woah! so how’d you become one? is there like a special training school for this?”, soonyoung asks, completely serious and utterly curious.
“it’s a sub branch in the security industry”, is all wonwoo answers with.
“can i ask you a question”, seungkwan asks, bringing his hand around wonwoo’s shoulder which wonwoo shrugs off in a second.
“what do you think of yn?”, seungkwan adds, acting like he wasn’t just shrugged off by wonwoo.
“yn is my client”, wonwoo says, like he’s stating a fact.
“i know she’s your client dude but what do you think of her, you know?”, seungkwan adds, trying to knock some sense into wonwoo, who clearly didn’t have any romantic braincell.
“you should take her out on a date, cheer her up. i'm sure she feels bad about everything happening with her father and all”, seungkwan explains nicely.
“yeah!”, soonyoung adds. we’re going on a double date anyway, you can join us and it’ll become a triple date”, soonyoung adds with enthusiasm.
wonwoo just stares at these two boys like they’re idiots before answering. “that’s not in my job description”, he tells.
seungkwan visibly gets annoyed. “man, you’re really dense you know”, he adds. “it’s gonna hurt your romantic life in the long run buddy”, seungkwan adds with a look.
wonwoo doesn’t say anything and that was the last straw for seungkwan and he grabs soonyoung’s arm, both of them making their way to the couch where you were busy chatting.
“okay, so we’re getting sushi”, rania announces and everyone cheers. you guys headed to the sushi place, wonwoo, you, rania and skye in one car and seungkwan and soonyoung following behind in the car they rented. you reach the sushi place and you guys sit inside. it seemed like today was your lucky day because you didn’t see any paps around or didn’t anyone seem to recognise you. you all took a seat while wonwoo told you that he’d wait by the car. you asked him (while rania almost yelled at him to join us) but he was stern about staying by the car. you let him be because you didn’t want to inconvenience him at the end of the day. you weren’t going to cross his boundaries if he didn’t want to. you finish your sushi date and come home happy and satisfied.
later that week, you get to meet with jeonghan, your father’s lawyer, to see how things are going regarding your father’s trial.
“so mr. jeon has been telling me you haven’t been going to college? i know things have been bad but missing classes in your last semester is not the thing to be doing”, jeonghan tells.
“he’s reporting to you now is he?”, you ask, your brow raised. “well i did hire him”, he adds.
“i’m not missing classes on purpose…it’s just that”, you start sighing. “they told me i can’t graduate because of everything happening and father’s controversy. something about damaging the institution’s reputation”, you tell and jeonghan sits up straighter.
“why didn’t you tell me anything before?”, jeonghan asks.
“i was going to! but then it just slipped my mind, and i know you’ve been busy too”, you add, hoping to redeem yourself.
jeonghan gives you a knowing look. “yn this is no small matter, i will look into this and make sure you can graduate. this is a ridiculous thing to do”, he tells and you nod in approval. “thanks” , you tell and he nods.
“how are you finding your bodyguard?”, jeonghan asks and you already sigh.
“he’s so…i don’t know, he’s so good at what he does but also kinda intimidating. he barely speaks it feels like i’m talking to a wall half the time”, you tell, chuckling. “but he’s cute”, you add, that tiny detail making jeonghan laugh.
“i think it’ll take some time to befriend him but i’m on it”, you add and jeonghan gives you a look. “just don’t get too close”, he adds with a warning.
you were at the library today, you needed an escape and books seemed like the perfect solace right now. you’re wearing a simple outfit, black jeans with a purple top and a jacket on top because somehow even though the sun was up, the air was chilly and windy. you’re busy arranging the books that have been borrowed back in their rightful places, already knowing which book and genre goes where. wonwoo follows you around silently while you’re aimlessly talking to him about each book you pick up and put back on the shelf, offering him information about it - if you had read it, if it was on your TBR, if it was good, bad or worth a read. wonwoo seemed to be listening to you keenly. you grab the next book, and start telling wonwoo about it.
“i read this book years ago and i still love it to this date, the characters were so funny. but if i’m being honest the guy in this book was kinda an ass”, you add, as you locate the book’s spot on the shelf that was all the way at the top. you went on your tiptoes to reach it, trying to place it but missed. “and now that i’m older, the girl in the book was also a bit stupid you know, like-” you continue, but you feel wonwoo come up behind you and see his hand reach out, taking the book from your outstretched arm and placing in on the shelf with ease. you turn around, looking up at wonwoo, who is now so close to you.
“why do you think the character was stupid?”, he asks, looking at you curiously. you blink up at him before answering, your mind suddenly distracted as you try to form a coherent sentence. “you know like-it was young love and-uh and they did-some stupid things-that um-i only realised when i got older-”, you stutter out, a flustered mess as you continue to look up at wonwoo. he looked so pretty up close and you could smell his cologne, which only made you want to lean into his presence. you feel your cheeks heat up as you look at him, starting to get lost in his eyes, his gaze. the way he looked at you like nothing else mattered to him apart from you made your heart race. you could feel your heart thumping loudly against your chest as you opened your mouth to speak again but closed it as no words came out. you step to the side, trying to create some distance between wonwoo, but you end up tripping on the stool that was placed there, almost falling, but wonwoo is quick to catch you, his arms catching your waist as he pulls your body against his.
“watch where you step”, wonwoo says as he holds you, and you’re acutely aware of how his hands feel on your body, the way he holds you, strong but gentle. and the way he’s looking at you makes your mind seem to go blank and the faint feeling of butterflies erupts in your stomach. “t-thanks”, you quickly say before you straighten out and stand on your own. you quickly grab a book from the cart and turn around, trying to calm your over-excited heart as you pretend to walk ahead before wonwoo calls out for you.
“isn’t the historical section that way?”, he asks and you look at the book in your hand. it was a historical book indeed. you huff out a breath and turn around, speed walking past wonwoo as you find the shelf and put the book back in place as you mutter to yourself about why wonwoo had to be so attentive, observant and stupidly attractive.
today is your father’s first trial and you were nervous,. even though jeonghan told you that you didn’t have to come, you wanted to. you knew your father needed your support right now, regardless of how rocky your relationship has been with him. so here you were in the car, nervous, while wonwoo was well, calm. but it was nice, having a calm energy near you, it sort of grounded you.
you turn the corner to the court and god, it was crowded. people had surrounded the road and courthouse, media and paparazzi waiting to snap photos and cover the event. you realised how serious this was and what it would mean if your father was found guilty, shit.
you observed the crowd, ducking down in your seat a little, already feeling overwhelmed. you hated crowds, especially crowds like this. you knew it wasn’t the good type of crowd and the sense of dread was already pooling in your stomach. maybe you should just turn the car around and go home. your hand is anxiously playing with the ring on your finger and as the car pulls up to the entrance to the courthouse, you can hear the screams and yells of people and see the flashes of light go off as the media take photos.
you gulp, anxious and the car comes to a halt. wonwoo swiftly gets down and he is quick to open your side of the car. it takes you a second to get out and the minute you get out, people surround you even more. If it wasn’t for the police barricade and wonwoo beside you, you were sure you’d have been trampled.
wonwoo is swift as he guides you inside, making sure no one touches you. he envelopes his other hand around your shoulder, but doesn’t touch you, having a gentleman’s hand while he guides you and you’re relieved once you step inside the building and the yells of people die down. you enter the trial room and take a seat. you spot your father and jeonghan and give them a small smile. your father - well he looked tired. you were just hoping jeonghan could get him through this because you don’t know what you were going to do otherwise.
the prosecution was really piling up all sorts of accusations against your father, but jeonghan was well prepared and defended whatever was coming up. firstly, according to what jeonghan had mentioned, there was no evidence or even if there was it could have been tampered with. the anonymous said person who was said to have tipped off the police with the evidence could not be trusted. jeonghan insisted that this person testify in court and that this anonymous person should be brought in for questioning.
by the time the first trial is done, it’s already been four hours. the next trial would be held in a few days where witnesses will be brought forward to testify. but from the hush talks in the room after the court was adjourned, you could tell no one was really on your father's side. your father’s company stocks had dropped, brand deals were pulling out and things were obviously not in your father’s favour at all. you were going to try everything in your power to bring your father’s company back up again and prove to everyone that he was indeed innocent. because there’s no way he would have done those things, right?
as you manage to locate jeonghan, who sits down with you for a bit, he tells you about a message from your father.
“you know the annual business charity club ball that your father attends every year right”, jeonghan says. “yeah”, you tell.
“well, obviously since you father cannot go this year, he’s asked you to go in his place”, jeonghan finishes and you give him a look.
“me? you know i hate that event”, you tell.
“but it’s been planned and it cannot be cancelled, not even in this situation. so, you’re going and it’s final. i will text you the location and date later. but please go, atleast for your father’s sake. he’s losing a lot of people right now so if you could try to restore people’s faith and trust in you and your father, it would be helpful”, jeonghan tells.
“fine, i guess that’s the least i can do”, you tell as you look at jeonghan. “is he okay? he’ll be okay right?”, you ask and jeonghan nods. “he should be, i’m doing everything in my power to defend him”, jeonghan answers.
you exit the meeting room with jeonghan and he takes off, saying he has to arrange some documents for the next trial. you weren’t able to meet your father because they didn’t allow you to right now which was a stupid rule. you walk out and you’re looking around for wonwoo but don't see him. and in your search for him, you make the mistake of walking towards the entrance, where the media people were. they spot you and in a second you’re surrounded, with people shoving cameras and mics in your face, bombarding you with questions, all talking over each other as you panic. you try to move but they follow you and soon, you’re being pushed outside and the people outside start yelling when they see you. someone shoves you and you lose your balance, almost falling as someone else grabs your left hand. you yelp out in pain as they yank your hand and just then you feel a figure come up behind you - wonwoo. his hand embraces your shoulder this time, as he holds out another hand to block people. you can feel the hand holding yours let go as wonwoo pries it off you and he pushes people back and people actually do move back because wonwoo meant business. he guides you to the car and you sit, finally away from the crowd. it’s only when you see wonwoo up front at the drivers seat that you realise you were sitting in the passenger seat behind. you didn’t mind though. wonwoo is swift to take a seat and you can feel him look at you through the rearview mirror. he doesn’t say anything, but starts the car and drives.
by the time you get back home, it’s late, already hitting 10:30pm. it’s only when you are inside does wonwoo finally speak.
“it’s dangerous for you to go out alone”, he says, standing in front of you as you put you bag onto the countertop.
“i was looking for you but i couldn’t find you, i didn’t mean to wander off alone like that”, you try to explain. “it was all too sudden, i really didn’t know what to do”, you add.
“just wait for me next time”, he asks,
“but where were you?”, you counter.
“i was at the east wing door, waiting for you to finish talking but when i looked inside, you weren’t there.
“oh, i think i exited from the door on the other side, that’s why”, you tell.
"if you don’t see me, call me next time, please”, he says and you nod in understanding.
wonwoo’s eyes glance down to your hand, the slightest marks of a bruise visible. “is your hand okay?”, he asks, taking a step forward to examine it further. “yeah, it’s fine, it’s-”, you stop as you look at your hand, only to see it bare. your ring, it wasn’t there. you look down on the floor, thinking it must've fallen there but it’s not. your other hand caresses your empty hand where the ring used to be, hoping that it wasn’t really missing but you don’t feel it. you don’t feel the ring. you feel the panic start to set in as you realise what’s just happened. fuck. then it hits you, the courtroom. it must've been pulled off when your hand was grabbed. you had to go back there, you had to look for it.
“we have to go back”, you tell wonwoo, as you step forward, but wonwoo is quick to stop you.
“yn, it’s late”, he tells sternly.
“no you don’t understand, i lost my ring, it must’ve fallen there, i need to find it”, you tell frantically and wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’ve become so worked up over a ring.
“it’s just a ring yn, you can get another one”, he tells and you snap your head up at him, visibly upset. just a ring?
“it’s not just a ring wonwoo”, you tell, tears prickling in your eyes. “you wouldn’t understand, fuck, i have to-i have to find it”, you tell again but wonwoo’s hand is firm as he holds you back again.
“yn”, he says. “no we need to go now”, you yell, pulling your arm loose from his grip “i’ll go myself”, you counter, trying to reach for the car keys on the counter but wonwoo pulls your hand away.
“yn we’ll go later alright”, he tells. “no no no we need to go now”, you yell again, a tear escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks slowly. your vision gets blurry and you move back, panic setting in. fuck how could you lose your mothers precious ring.
“no no no, this can’t be happening”, you mumble. you try to feel for your ring again, hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding, but your finger was empty. you don’t hear wonwoo calling out to you as you ears start ringing and your eyes fill with tears again. “i’m such an idiot how could i lose it”, you tell yourself, beating yourself up over the incident.
wonwoo realised you were having a panic attack, and he also realised that what he said could have been triggering. “yn”, says, coming towards you and you feel the weight of his hands on your shoulders as he looks down at you and you look up at him, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks. “we’ll find your ring okay”, he says, his voice somehow grounding you back to reality. “i promise we’ll go back to find it, but not right now.”, he adds. another tear rolls down your cheek as you sniffle, looking up at wonwoo, feeling helpless. “we’ll find it right”, you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “we will”, he assures.
wonwoo guides you to the couch and is quick to fetch you a glass of water. surprisingly, he takes a seat next to you, pushing the glass of water to you. you see him reach for something in his jacket pocket and then he reaches his hand out, offering it to you, his handkerchief. you gladly take the handkerchief and dab your cheeks dry, wiping your tears and sniffling as you try to calm down. wonwoo watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip of water. there is silence between you both, unsure of what to say. you close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather yourself and your thoughts.
“i’m sorry”, you mumble out, feeling bad at lashing out at wonwoo and maybe a little embarrassed about crying in front of him. you hated people seeing you cry.
“i should be sorry, it was insensitive of me to say that”, he says, as he watches you take another sip of water. you put the glass down, looking at your finger where your ring adorned it.
“it was my mother’s ring”, you tell quietly after a few moments of silence. “after she passed away, it was the only token i had to remember her by”, you tell softly, lifting you head up to see wonwoo’s gaze soften as he looks at you. “it’s the only thing i have left of her”, you say, feeling yourself tear up again as you shift your gaze back down to your lap. you look back up at wonwoo and there’s something different about him, a softness in his gaze, his expression and language. “i’m sorry to hear about your mother”, he tells. you offer him a small smile. “it’s okay, i’ve come to terms with it, besides i was really young when it happened”, you add.
you glance at the clock on the wall, seeing the time and releasing that it was late, that it was past wonwoo’s working hours. “oh”, you say softly as your eyes glance at wonwoo and back to the clock. “i’m sorry if i held you back”, you say, referring to the time. wonwoo quickly checks the time on the wristwatch adorning his hand before he looks back up at you.
“i can stay, if you want me to”, he adds. “are you sure?”, you ask, unsure. he nods. “just another hour then”, you ask and he gives you a yes. deep down you were glad he was staying back. you didn’t think you could handle being alone right now, especially after what happened.
there are a few more seconds of silence before wonwoo speaks, suggesting that you should eat dinner perhaps, considering you hadn’t really had a proper lunch either, being too anxious about your father’s trial.
“i need a burger”, you tell after a few minutes of silence. “do you want me to place a delivery order for you?”, wonwoo asks. you shake your head. “no they don’t deliver, we’ll have to go there”, you tell and wonwoo looks unsure for a second. “it’s closeby, i’ll show you the way”, you tell, already standing up.
you both get in the car and you show wonwoo the directions as he drives. you come by the place and park and you’re about to get out when wonwoo stops you.
“wait, let me surf the area, see if anyone is there”, wonwoo tells, opening his door and stepping out. by anyone he meant the paparazzi of course. he walks ahead a bit, his eyes searching the area for anyone suspicious and that’s when you spot a girl sitting by the bench on the side looking at wonwoo. you knew what that look meant. wonwoo comes up by your window and you lower the glass, peeking out. you glance at the girl and then wonwoo, a laugh escaping your lips at your thoughts.
“what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, alert.
“that girl over there is totally checking you out”, you tell and wonwoo seems unfazed by this piece of information.
“i see three paparazzi, seems like they followed us. i suggest that you stay in the car and let me get you a takeaway”, wonwoo tells.
“that girl is totally going to ask for your number”, you add and wonwoo blinks at you.
“she won’t”, he tells, dismissing your claims.
“she totally will”, you counter and he raises a brow at you.
“wanna make a bet”, you ask. “if you lose you have to buy me ice cream”, you tell.
“what do you want me to get for you”, wonwoo asks, resting his hand on the car window.
“get me the grilled burger with fries and extra sauce”, you tell, handing wonwoo your card. wonwoo takes it as you tell him not to forget the extra sauce, adding that he should get something for himself too.
after about ten minutes, wonwoo comes into sight and just as you predicted, the girl sitting on the bench stands up and engages in a conversation with wonwoo. however, it’s short lived and wonwoo is making his way towards your car and the dejected look on the girl’s face tells you everything you need to know. wonwoo gets in the driver’s seat with the bag of food, which smelled divine, tingling your senses already.
“she asked for you number didn’t she”, you tell, teasing him a little.
“she did not”, wonwoo tells and you fake gasp.
“she totally did, i read her lips”, you state and wonwoo shakes his head and gives in, amused.
“you owe me ice cream”, you state proudly, grinning at wonwoo.
“on what occasion?”, he asks.
“because you lost the bet”, you state.
“i remember making no such deal”, he tells, like he’s teasing you, as he hands you back your card.
“whatever, just know i’ll extort this ice cream out of you one day”, you tell as you reach for the bag food.
you eat your burger in joy, proud that wonwoo in fact did not forget the extra sauce.
“did you not get anything?”, you ask, as you chew, looking at wonwoo.
“i will eat something at home, thank you for the concern”, he says. “don’t be like that!”, you tell, offering him a fry but he politely declines that too.
after you’ve devoured your burger and fries, you sigh content. “that was a good meal”, you tell, satisfied. “if only i could get a desert now”, you tell, implying to wonwoo.
“but i guess we should go, an hour is going to be up”, you tell. wonwoo steps out of the car and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he walks over to your side and opens the door for you.
“did you not want your ice cream?”, he asks and you look around before wonwoo tells you that the paps left. you smile and step out, happily walking up to the ice cream parlour that was right next to the burger joint. another hidden gem that served the best ice cream and sundaes.
you walk inside and sit in the corner booth all the way at the end. it gave you some privacy and was cozy. you don’t even glance at the menu before you’re telling wonwoo what you want. “a chocolate brownie fudge delight please”, you tell, grinning up at wonwoo who’s looking at you confused as he glances at the menu on the table, his eyes searching for the item you’ve just named.
“but that has two scoops of vanilla and two scoops of chocolate ice cream”, he tells. you only look at him, confused. “and a whole brownie with chocolate sauce and nuts”, he adds, like he’s questioning you.
“so?”, you ask.
“are you going to eat the whole thing?”, he asks and you scoff.
“do not underestimate my ice cream eating abilities wonwoo”, you tell offended and just then the waitress comes, taking your order.
your sundae comes and you’re already smiling but when you take that first bite, it’s heaven and you sigh again, content with life right now. wonwoo looks at you like he’s still unsure that you can finish it.
“do you want a bite? it’s really good”, you ask, pushing the bowl towards him. he politely declines again and you give him a look.
“you know, you should live life more, because you only live once”, you tell, as you put another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “i mean of course if you’re allergic to nuts or lactose intolerant then that’s a totally different story, but otherwise if someone tells me that they don’t eat or don’t like ice cream, i wouldn’t trust them you know. because how can you not like ice cream? it’s like one of the best things to have been created. if you don’t like ice cream then there’s a serious problem”, you ramble on to wonwoo, who’s sitting opposite you, listening to you keenly.
“also you should really talk more, i feel like i’m talking to myself half the time because you never say anything or you're always finishing your sentences in two or five words”, you tell, oblivious to the fact there was chocolate sauce on the side of your lip. “we need to come to some sort of understanding because-”, you stop mid sentence as wonwoo’s hand reaches out to wipe the corner of your mouth gently. you stare at him for a couple of seconds before the weight of his actions hits you and you start coughing, flustered. wonwoo is quick to pour you a glass of water and offer it to you.
“are you okay?, he asks, looking worried and you nod. “y-yeah”, you respond, suddenly feeling shy. you eat another spoonful of the ice cream, looking down at the bowl as you chew, feeling your cheeks heat up and you glance back up at wonwoo, whose eyes are still trained on you, and he’s looking at you deeply like he’s trying to decipher what’s going on in your mind. the way he looked at you, god, it made you feel things.
“we’ll find my ring right”, you ask again as you take the last bite of your sundae.
“i assure you that i will try my best to find it”, he replies. silence engulfs you both again.
“thank you for today”, you tell. “it was a nice distraction or change from the situation”, you tell, feeling grateful. you check the time on your phone and let out a small gasp at the time.
“oops, i guess i kept you for two hours instead of one”, you tell. “that’s not an issue”, he says. “if you ever need me, i’m always here”, he adds and somehow the way he says it feels soft, like this was his way of initiating friendship, telling you that he was indeed human and there was a sincerity in the way he said it.
“thank you”, you say, giving him a genuine smile. wonwoo drops you off at home and then leaves, bidding you goodnight. you lay in bed, replaying the events of today in your head, thinking about wonwoo. even if he perhaps looked a bit cold and indifferent, he was actually really sweet, quiet, soft and gentle. you feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you think about what he did earlier and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow, letting out an annoyed groan as you kick your feet in the air.
you don’t sleep well that night, your mind wandering to your mother’s ring and all your thoughts filled with finding it. you would find it right? you wake up at an ungodly hour and still restless before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. when you wake up, you sleepily walk out and see a cup of takeaway coffee from your favourite cafe waiting for you. you glance at wonwoo and then at the cup of coffee.
“i thought you might want some coffee”, he fills in. “oh god i did need some coffee, thank you wonwoo”, you tell, taking a sip, grateful for his sweet gesture.
“when can we go find my ring? i really have to find it, i’ll never forgive myself otherwise”, you say, putting the coffee back on the counter as you go on a sleepy rant when wonwoo steps forward and holds out his hand. he opens it and lo and behold, your ring is there. your jaw drops and you look up at wonwoo.
“no way. you found it, you really found it”, you tell as you take the ring, examining it like you were making sure it was really yours before slipping it back on your finger.
you’re so happy and you jump at wonwoo, hugging him, “thank you thank you thank you”, you chant, feeling so relieved right now, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. that’s when you realise what you were doing, making you step back abruptly, clearing your throat. “i mean, thank you”, you tell again, as you compose yourself. he gives you an appreciative nod and a small smile and you feel your stomach do a little somersault.
a week later the next trial is being held. you didn’t go for this one, but you got updates from jeonghan and of course the news. the headlines about your father were also ridiculous, but you were used to it at this point really. it’s like the whole world was against your father right now, everyone hated him and you of course. people were angry and demanding justice and jail time, saying he stole taxpayers' money and that he owned the people back, that he should rot in jail for the rest of his life. you shake your head and open your front door to go water your garden when you see another small box on your doorstep. you had been getting these all week. they were threats and normally you should have been scared. but you thought it was a harmless joke. you’d gotten countless threats on the internet so you just assumed it was someone having some fun. shrugging it off, you decided to not tell wonwoo about this.
the weird boxes continue to come, but you realise that they got progressively worse each time, the last two even had death threats, and threats about breaking into your house, but yet again, you didn’t take it seriously. you woke up later today, having trusted wonwoo with your house code so he could enter and start his duty and not have to wake you up at 7am every day.
when you walk to the living area, wonwoo is there. “good morning”, he greets and you yawn, waving at him. “you got a parcel”, he tells and you look at the counter, recognising the box. “shit not another one”, you mumble but wonwoo is sharp to hear it.
you open it, and this time it’s a bunch of your photos, cut up weirdly. but the worst part, your heads were cut off in all of them and there was a cryptic message too. wonwoo comes forward, sees the letter and is quick to look at you. he reaches out for the letter, taking it from your hand before you can hide it and his eyes scan over the contents of the letter, his jaw clenched.
“this isn't okay”, he says. “it probably isn’t a big deal wonwoo, i’ve been getting them all week”, you blurt out, before realising it and you can feel wonwoo’s gaze get more intense.
“what? and you didn’t think to tell me?”, he asks firmly. “i didn’t want to make big deal out it, it’s probably harmless, i get stuff like this all the time online”, you tell.
“but this isn’t online”, he says, emphasizing his words.”and it's always not a big deal until something actually happens yn, this is dangerous”, he tells, clearly upset about this, raising his voice slightly.
he makes you show him all the mail and he looks stressed to say the least. “yn you should have told me about this”, he says, stressed. “how am i supposed to protect you if i don’t know about things like this”, he adds and you can feel his eyes drill into you.
“i’m sorry wonwoo”, you say, feeling bad.
“well, it is a big deal and action will be taken”, he says. “they know your address yn, do a lot of people know your address, where you live?”, he asks, making you think and that’s when you realise. “oh”, you say. “i mean paps are around my house all the time”, you tell.
“but this isn’t a pap”, he tells. “it means this person has been following you around”, he says. “you mean like stalking?”, you ask. “yes exactly”, he tells. you gulp, suddenly realising the weight of the situation.
wonwoo looked stressed the entire day even though you told him not to worry and that you’d karate chop anyone who came near you. he didn’t laugh at your joke, obviously, just keeping a straight face. that night, wonwoo seems apprehensive to leave, worried about the threats you were getting, but you assured him that you were going to be okay, that you were going to lock all your doors and windows and sleep.
the letters and threats keep coming, each getting more violent and wonwoo doesn’t like it one bit. “we need to put some cctvs around your house”, he tells you. you argue that you don’t really need it, but he insists, and to be honest, in the long run, it could be useful so you cave in and he informs you that he’ll make the arrangements.
that night, you’re lying in bed, busy watching a show on your laptop. it was late, but you couldn’t sleep so here you were, catching up on a tv show. but that’s when you hear a noise from outside. you shrug it off and continue watching when your phone pings.
i can see you
what the fuck. you get up and try to look out the window, not seeing anything, but that’s when you hear a noise and you see the shadow of someone on the wall. it moves swiftly and you take a step back, scared. your phone pings again.
looking for me?
you swear you feel a shiver run down your spine. you hear a rattle on your window outside and you gasp, anxious as you tiptoe your way there and you swear you hear a laugh, making you jump.
did i scare you?
another text reads and you gulp, backing up. fuck.
you scramble to unlock your phone and you dial wonwoo, not knowing who else to call. he doesn’t pick up on the first go and you hear the heavy boots of someone outside before you hear your glass window break, a stone getting thrown inside. you dial wonwoo again and he picks up.
“wonwoo, fuck, there’s someone here, i think they’re trying to break in”, you tell in a panic and the phone gets disconnected as you yelp in pain as a small stone from outside that hits your hand, breaking the window furthur as glass shatters everywhere. you hand stings and you clutch your hand as you try to ground yourself. you start panicking, and getting anxious, tears brimming in your eyes. your phone slips from your hand, landing with a thud on the ground. you try to reach out for it but end up getting cut from the glass you couldn’t see in the dark. you suck in a breath as you feel the sharp cut burn and you move back as you sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, hiding under the dining table. what if wonwoo didn’t come you thought as a tear escaped you. you had to get yourself together. but then another stone gets thrown shattering your already broken window. shit, what if someone came in right now. this wasn’t good. your thoughts only add fuel to your panic and you just try to huddle under the table, your hands shaking.
you don’t know how much time passed and you don’t even hear your front door open as wonwoo runs in. “yn?”, he calls out. your house was still dark and you can hear the crunch of glass as he steps on it with his boots, cursing under his breath.
he calls your phone which had fallen down, as it lights up and rings. “yn?”, he calls out again, an edge to his voice, seeing your phone that was discarded on the floor. you raise your head, accidentally hitting it on the top and you wince. you hear wonwoo’s feet shuffle around and he bends down, finally locating you. he offers you his hand and helps you up, which you gladly take. he’s quick to assess your state, guiding you to your bedroom because of all the glass that’s scattered on the floor. he locates the switch and turns on the light and you wince a bit from the sudden intrusion of light. you sit down and wonwoo sits beside you. “are you okay? are you hurt?”, he asks, looking at you carefully before he spots the cut on your hand, bleeding badly. you don’t know how he found your first aid kid, probably his super senses. wonwoo’s sitting next to you as he aids to your cut. he gently holds your hand. “it’s going to burn a bit okay”, he says before he dabs the cut and you wince when the disinfectant comes in contact with your cut, the sting burning and you close your eyes. he wipes it a few more times before letting it dry a bit and covering it with a bandaid. he can tell you’re still pretty shaken up, in a state of shock because of how quiet you are and the way your eyes are still glossed over and teary.
“it’s okay, we caught the person”, he says, trying to help you ease up. “he was running away just as i came and i caught him. he’s with the police right now, but you’ll have to go to the station to answer some questions tomorrow”, he explains.
“he’s gone?”, you ask and he nods and you feel yourself relax a little. you were okay. it was going to be okay.
“i thought you weren’t going to come”, you mumble out. “i would come running for you”, he says, making you look at him. his gaze is soft as he looks at you. “really?”, you ask, softly as you start to get lost in his gaze. “yes”, he says as he holds your gaze.
once everything is settled, he stands in front of you. it was 1am now. “i’ll see you tomorrow then”, he said and he turned around to leave when you grab the end of his shirt sleeve. he turns around, looking down to his hand that you held onto his sleeve before he looks up at you. “can you stay?”, you ask softly, peering up at him. “i’m a little scared”, you add softly, your hand still tugging on the end of his sleeve. “but if you have to go, i understand,” you tell, reluctantly letting go of his sleeve. “i’ll see you tomorrow anyway”, you tell, feeling like you don’t want to burden wonwoo anymore.
“it’s okay, i can stay”, he says.
you tell wonwoo to sleep in the guest bedroom, practically dragging him there because he said he’d sleep on the couch. there was no way he was going to sleep on the couch, especially after the windows got broken there. wonwoo was a bit stubborn, but he finally gives in after you threaten to lock him in if he doesn’t listen to you.
you say a small goodnight before you retreat back into your own room. you fall asleep, only to be awoken as you suddenly feel hot. your head is heavy and you don’t feel good. you needed water. you stand up, feeling a little dizzy before you steady yourself and open your door, heading to the kitchen. you turn on the light and reach out to fetch glass from the counter but your grip falters and it falls to the ground, shattering. you curse under your breath. you’re about to bend down to clean it up but you hear wonwoo call out for you.
“yn?”, he asks as he steps into view, taking in the sight of you and the broken glass. he’s prompt to walk closer. “are you okay?”, he asks. “yeah, it just slipped”, you tell softly. his gaze on your lingers before he’s swift to pick you up and place you on the counter and you don’t even have the chance to protest about it. “let me clean this up okay”, he tells and is quick to remove all the glass and neatly sweep the area. your head is throbbing and you don’t feel too good, your head feeling heavy.
“are you okay?”, wonwoo asks again, observing you keenly and he can tell that something is off about you, that you don’t look okay. “y-yeah”, you say softly, answering him. “you can tell me if something is bothering you yn, i’m here for you”, he adds, his eyes still trained on you and you feel utterly exposed when he looks at you like that, like he can tell exactly what you were thinking and feeling. you gulp.
“i-i don’t feel too good”, you finally admit.
he raises his hand to gently press the back of his hand to your forehead and you watch how his eyebrows furrow.
"yn you’re burning up”, wonwoo says, checking your temperature again. you hop down from the counter, not listening to wonwoo as his arm comes up to wrap around your waist to steady you as you stumble slightly.
“yn, you need to get back to bed”, he instructs, a worried edge to his voice. before you know it, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style back to the bedroom and you don’t have it in your to say anything as he gently lays you down, adjusting your pillow for you. he’s quick to fetch you a glass of water. he asks you if you have any fever or headache medication and you shake your head lightly indicating that you didn’t have any. he tells you he’ll be back, that he’s just going to the pharmacy around the corner and you lay in bed, under the covers. the throbbing in your head only gets worse and you start to tear up. you fall asleep for a few minutes but awaken when you hear wonwoo’s softly call out to you. you turn around, sniffling and wonwoo can tell you were crying, his expression softening as he sits down next to you.
he helps you take the medication for your fever, telling you that it is going to be okay, that he was right here. your hand brushes against his as you lay as you slowly fall asleep. you feel when his hand move and you reach out, grabbing onto his fingers. “stay, please”, you mumble, half asleep, holding onto his hand as you finally fall asleep.
you wake up in the morning and feel a bit better, sitting up. you’re about to get up when wonwoo enters, spotting you awake. “how are you feeling?”, he asks. “a bit better”, you tell, still feeling a little tired.
“i’m sorry for keeping you up”, you add softly, looking at him. “you can take the day off today, i’m just gonna be at home”, you add.
“it’s not an issue”, he fills in. “i got you some rice porridge, you should eat some and take the medication again”, wonwoo informs. he offers to bring it to you but you decline, saying you wanted to get out of bed anyway. he’s a little hesitant but walks with you to the dining table where he brings the bowl of porridge to you.
you nibble on a few bites of the food, wonwoo keenly watching you and you feel like you’re being stripped bare again by the way he looks at you. “sorry if i kept you awake”, you tell, feeling a little bad.
“don’t apologise yn, i’m more than happy to be around and help”, he says.
after you eat a bit and take your medication, you sleep for a bit more, while wonwoo arranges for your windows to get fixed. you wake up after a few hours and you walk out. wonwoo is there, talking to one of the workers before he spots you in the corner of his eye. he’s dressed in rather casual clothes compared to his daily suits. today was just trousers with a shirt and blazer jacket. he still managed to look good. you were sure he would look good in everything. but the one thing you noticed was his hair, it was down, his bangs falling over his head. and somehow it softened his look, he looked so pretty. wonwoo makes his way towards you, greeting you.
“sorry if all the noise woke you up”, he says as he takes in your appearance.
“it’s okay, i was up anyway", you say.
“they’re almost done”, he adds and you retreat back to your room, crashing in bed as you cuddle your pillow and you’re falling asleep again.
later that week, wonwoo was extra tight on security, he installed cctv cameras outside and the guy who was stalking you was put on a restraining order and fined. jeonghan had also messaged you about all the details about the charity business ball you had to attend in your fathers place. he said going to the ball would sort of put in a good word about your father while jeonghan was working on the trials, even though everything still looked uncertain as ever and the hate for your father just got worse.
the only thing you hated more than parties were parties that were held in the middle of nowhere. your dad always hosted this party at this venue in the middle of nowhere really, far from the city, saying the change of scenery added to the value and taste of the ball. you’d never gone to this charity business ball he’d hosted even though he’d invite you. you hated parties and all the people that came with it. it was tiresome and you’d much rather be at the comfort of your own home.
the charity ball was the news of the week, everyone was covering this and you’d bet some media people were going to be there being their nosy selves as usual. you end up meeting with your usual stylist - hwasa and she’s more than happy to curate a bunch of outfits for you to try on and see which one works for the event. wonwoo accompanies you, standing in the corner of the room while you try on the twelfth dress, already exhausted by the whole process.
but out of all the dresses you tried, you’d liked this one the best. it was a white satin dress with full sleeves and you loved it. it fits you the best too. you step out, looking for hwasa but she’s not there, probably gone to get a few more dresses. you see wonwoo, his eyes catching yours and you see the way they change, widening a little before going back to his stoic expression.
“how do i look?”, you ask wonwoo, looking at him expectantly. he clears his throat before speaking. “you look pretty”, he says and you give him a look. “just pretty? you have to give me more wonwoo. how do we like it from the other dresses?”, you ask, prodding him.
“it’s the best fit compared to the others and compliments you well”, he adds. “right! i thought so too!”, you tell, smiling. just then hwasa appears, smiling as she sees you. “this is the one”, she says as she looks at you and you do a little twirl for her. “yup, let's go with this one”, you tell.
you decide to get an outfit for wonwoo too, you wanted him to look good so you send him with hwasa to get him an outfit, even though he said that he was alright, you insisted.
after the day is over, you head home, tired. the charity ball was on the weekend and it was already wednesday. you were not looking forward to this at all but you were only doing it for your father’s sake. and after all, the company was going to come into your hands later so you might as well show them who you are and what you were capable of, right?
you were supposed to ideally leave on friday night to the venue and stay at a hotel nearby, but you were nervous and somehow at last minute, the hotel you booked cancelled on you, so you just decided to go on the same evening, except it would be a three hour drive. you’re a frantic mess that morning. from going to hwasa’s studio to get your makeup and hair done, and you go back home, leaving from there after changing. the only hitch was they didn’t have the shoes you chose in your size even though it was ordered but it didn’t come on time, so now you were stuck with shoes that were a tad bit tight, but you had to put up with it in the name of fashion.
you’re all ready and you hear a knock on your door. “the car is ready, i’ll be waiting outside”, you hear wonwoo tell.
"i'll be there in a minute", you yell out as you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before you head out. it was going to be okay hopefully, but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread already pooling in your stomach. you give yourself a smile in the mirror before walking out, your shoes already starting to feel uncomfortable. you have your small handbag with your stuff and grab your house key, locking up before turning around and your jaw almost drops on the floor because holy shit.
wonwoo. he looked gorgeous. he was wearing a black turtleneck paired with a black blazer. his hair was styled but over his forehead and he was wearing glasses. god. you stand there for a whole 30 seconds just staring at wonwoo because wow, he looks so hot right now. you’re not even looking when you take the next step, completely misplacing where you put your foot, tripping down the step but you feel a pair of hands grab your waist, steadying you as wonwoo is quick to catch you. your hands are draped on wonwoo as you look up at him and suddenly he’s so close and he smells so good. you can smell his cologne and it just draws you in more. you’re staring at wonwoo, surprised and your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before glancing back up.
“woah are you okay”, he asks, worried as he helps you get back on your feet, his hands still lingering around your waist.
“y-yeah”, you mumble out, clearing your throat, and you’re acutely aware of his hands on your body again, making your cheeks heat up. your hand is still clutching wonwoo’s hand before you pull your hand away, gulping as you look down.
you sit behind because your dress needs space so it won’t crease and you glance at wonwoo occasionally as he drives, his side profile is so pretty. he looked pretty hot with glasses and you were suddenly wondering why he didn’t wear them more often. you shift your legs and feel a dull pinch in your feet as you look at your heels. you’d have ideally removed them in the car but it had the most confusing way to tie them up and they’d been tied nicely already. you didn’t want to ruin that so you let it be, sighing. but little did you know that wonwoo would also occasionally look back at you through the rearview mirror. he thought you looked gorgeous tonight.
the car ride is silent except for some soft music playing and your mind starts wandering to the event, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come.
you can tell you’re close when you see all the lights and the venue up front along with the bunch of cars. you take a deep breath, trying to ease your nervousness. your nerves start to hit you more as the car stands in line to walk to the red carpet. you can hear the people, the fans and see the countless media and news reporters who’ve come to cover the event.
soon it’s your turn to walk the red carpet and get to the ball. you’re so nervous that your hands are almost shaking and you hate it. you hate the flashes and the crowd already. the car comes to a halt and wonwoo gets down, rushing to your side and opening the door for you. now that the door was open, all the noise was amplified. you take a breath before you see wonwoo offer his hand to you and you look up at him, the look of panic evident on your face as you get up, and wonwoo can feel the way your hand shakes in his, giving you a small but somewhat comforting squeeze as you put on a fake smile as you step out. you walk ahead, posing for a few pictures before you walk ahead, wonwoo walking behind you.
you get in and you’re greeted by a bunch of people, some you know, some you don’t. most of them were your father’s business partners, people he worked with or were friends and relatives. the rest were just invited for courtesy.
you’re offered a glass of champagne as you enter and you take it, and walk ahead. but as you walk you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, you can feel the weight of their gazes and they all talk in hushed voices as you walk past. you see your father’s friends and go up to them, greeting him.
“hello”, you say nicely and they greet you but are rather hostile. they make small remarks about your father and his situation, joking about not wanting to be seen with you as to protect their reputation. they’re laughing as you’re just standing there, trying not to lose it as you excuse yourself and walk away. your father really had shitty friends, you had to say that. you turn around and spot wonwoo to the side of the room at the back, along with all the other bodyguards as his eyes find yours. you give him a small smile and he nods, smiling ever so softly.
you walk around and talk around to a few people, some feigning sympathy and pity for your dad while others downright insult him. you countered these claims to every person, saying he didn’t do it but they all just laughed or shook their heads. finally, it was time for the ball and event to begin and you took a seat. as you were the host have to technically open the thing so here you were, walking up to the stage, your feet killing you already and your nerves ready to snap at any second. as you take the stage and see the sea of people in front of you, you feel the anxiety pool in your stomach and you gulp. you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, boring into you and suddenly you feel like you’d committed a thousand crimes and everyone was judging you.
“good evening ladies and gentlemen”, you say, giving the audience a small smile.
“i am here tonight on behalf of my father, but i welcome you all and would like to thank you all for coming. the proceeds raised at this ball will be going to children and people in need. thank you for coming once again and have a great night”, you tell, people clapping and you walk off.
another host takes over from here and you walk down the stage, holding your dress up as you look down and see someone you really did not want to be seeing right now - your dad’s business partner's son, who was a #1 asshole.
he’d always been a snob and you almost roll your eyes at the sight of him. you see people writing cheques and putting them in the donation box and in the other room people were dancing to the live band who were playing music.
“hello yn, long time no see”, he says, flashing you his smile, which you didn’t reciprocate. “hi”, you say.
“nice party”, he adds. “thanks”, you say.
“i would like to offer you the first dance”, he asks, giving you a mischievous smile. “oh no that’s alright”, you say but he doesn’t listen.
“come on, don’t be a spoilsport”, he says, taking your hand and taking you along with him to the other side of the room. and soon, his hand is on your waist and he’s smirking at you as you both slowly move. you can see people looking at you but you try to ignore it.
“how’s your dad? i bet things are hard right now”, he says.
“yeah, but i’m sure the truth will be revealed at the end”, you say.
he laughs, making a few snide remarks about your father, which you try to ignore. but suddenly you feel the thread you’re trying to hold onto snap and suddenly the music is too loud, you don’t like the way he’s holding your hand too tight or the way his hand on your waist is going lower and you try to pull away but he doesn’t let you.
“oh i’m sure the truth will be revealed soon”, he says and he leans in, whispering in your ear. “that your father is a crook”, he tells, smirking and he looks at you and you pull your hand away. you walk away, watching as people’s gaze turn towards you but you ignore it, the tears pooling in your eyes as you make your way to the restroom. you enter and lock yourself in one of the stalls, letting a few tears roll down. you hear the door open and a few girls.
“did you see her?”, one of them says.
“i can’t believe she had the audacity to come really”, another girl says.
“she’s so shameless. if my father was jailed i would like never to show my face to anyone.”, a girl adds and the others laugh.
“probably got spoiled from her father’s rotten money”, another girl tells, and they all snicker as they leave.
hearing this only makes you more upset and more tears well in your eyes as you cry silently. you didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to be alone, you wanted to leave. you wanted to leave now. panic rises in your chest again along with anger. your eyes well with tears as you walk down the basement where the cars were parked. thank god you had your spare car key with you and you locate your car, getting in and driving off. you grip the steering wheel hard, making your knuckles turn white as you drive. you don’t even know here you’re going, you just know you had to get out of here. you don’t know how long you’ve been driving for, when you realise you don’t even know where you are. you had gotten a couple of texts from wonwoo but you ignore it and soon wonwoo was calling you but you ignored it too. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. you wanted to be alone.
your car suddenly sputters and breaks down in the middle of the road in almost the middle of nowhere. the road was empty and you couldn’t see anyone or any other cars, people or buildings, fuck. you bury your head in your hands, crying out in frustration as you think about what to do. well you guess now was a good time to call wonwoo.
wonwoo picks up your phone almost immediately. he’d seen you dancing but after that, during the entire party he didn’t see you. now that it was almost over and he still couldn’t locate you, he was obviously worried. he’d texted you and called you countless times but you weren’t responding, leading him to think something might have happened. he’s a frantic mess as he desperately tries to look for you, calling you, but you don’t respond.
“yn? yn are you okay”, wonwoo’s voice is urgent on the other line of the phone.
“wonwoo”, you tell softly, nearly on the verge of tears again.
“where are you? are you okay?”, he asks and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears again, feeling like the whole weight of the world was on your shoulders.
“yn, please tell me where you are”, he pleads, concern laced in his voice.
“i don’t know”, you tell, your voice cracking, more tears rolling down your already tear stained cheek.
“i got overwhelmed and i left, i took the car and i drove and i-i don’t know where i am”, you tell through broken sobs. “and now the car broke down, god knows where”, you add, sniffling.
“send me your live location, i’ll track you”, he says. “stay in the car and lock the doors, i’m coming”, he assures. “can you stay on the line with me”, you ask. “of course”, he fills in.
wonwoo discovers you’ve driven a whole 45 minutes away and he assures you that he’s coming. but only ten minutes in your phone dies. “fucking phone”, you mumble as you look at the dark road. ten minutes pass and now you start getting scared. wonwoo was going to come right? blame your stupid anxiety but you thought of the worst scenarios that could happen, only psyching yourself more. the car feels more suffocating by the minute and your shoes feel like they're getting tighter. panic sets in stronger and you can’t take it anymore, can’t take the tightness in your shoes and you hastily undo the laces and pull off your shoes, wincing slightly when you feel it scrape against the back of your ankle. you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths.
after what feels like an eternity, you see a car pull up near you. you can’t make out anyone, the light almost blinding, but you see someone step out, making their way to your car. you open the door and step out, hearing the voice calling your name - wonwoo. relief immediately floods through your body as you run towards him, crashing into his arms as you start sobbing in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his body. he’s a little taken aback but his hands engulf you, pulling you in for a warm embrace.
“i thought you weren’t going to make it”, you mumble out, your arms wrapped around wonwoo as you start to cry. “of course i’d come yn, i gave you my word”, he says, his hand coming up to cradle your head.
“my phone died and i-i didn’t know what i was going to do”, you mumble out, looking up at wonwoo. he studies your face, his gaze softening as he takes in your state and your tear-stained cheeks. you’ve cried a lot today. you finally drop your hands from around wonwoo, letting him go. wonwoo looks down and sees you’re barefoot. “where are your shoes?”, he asks. “they’re in the car, it was getting uncomfortable”, you say. wonwoo is quick to grab your phone, keys and bag from your car and to your surprise, there’s a pair of sneakers. he puts them in front of you, bending down to help you put them on. “where did you get those?”, you ask, surprised. “i like to be prepared”, he informs, helping you wear the shoes before standing back up and your hand automatically grab his hand, intertwining your fingers in his, hoping to find some grounding through his touch.
wonwoo asks the cab to take you both to the nearest hotel, which was roughly ten minutes away from where you were according to the cab driver. you’re still holding wonwoo’s hand and he lets you as you try to calm down. you see a building up ahead and the cab driver tells you that this is the location. you both enter, walking up to the reception and the lady there looks up as you both up.
“we’d like two rooms please”, wonwoo asks.
“unfortunately we only have one room left”, the lady says.
“we’ll take it”, you chirp in and wonwoo looks at you.
“it’s a couple suite so i can only book couples in it”, she says, chewing on gum, looking bored to even be there. “are you a couple or”, she asks.
“no” “yes”, you say and you both look at each other.
“we are, ignore him, he’s a little shy”, you tell and she just looks between you both again.
“alright, how would you like to pay, cash or card?” the lady asks. you dig through your purse and find your card, handing it over and you have your room key. wonwoo notices the way you’re walking slowly this time, watching your face contour in the slightest of winces with each step. “are you hurt?”, he asks, walking forward as he puts his hands on your shoulder, his eyes raking your body for any sign of discomfort or hurt. “no-my shoes-ouch-were the wrong fit”, you fill in. “i think i got a shoebite from them”, you say as you look up the flight of stairs you’d have to climb mentally bracing yourself when you feel wonwoo’s hands wrap around you and lifting you up bridal style. you let out a small surprised yelp, your arms wrapping around wonwoo’s neck for support.
“woah w-what are you doing?”, you stutter out, looking at wonwoo, whose face is barely inches from yours. “your feet are already hurt, i don’t want you climbing up the stairs in that state”, he announces, carrying you as he walks up the stairs. you feel that familiar heat creep up your cheeks and that tiny feeling of butterflies as you look at wonwoo. he looked really pretty up close, his hair falling over his forehead as his glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. you reach your room and unlock the door, wonwoo still carrying you and he sets you down. you tell him a quiet thank you as your hands are quick to slide off the sneakers, feeling instant relief. but just has you had predicted, you got shoebites. both the sides of your pinky toes and heels were bruised and raw.
wonwoo fetches something from his wallet - bandaids. you’re surprised. “so you just carry around bandaids in your wallet??”, you ask, amused. “like i said, i have to be prepared”, he says. you try to take the bandaid from his hand, telling him that you’d put it on but he doesn’t let you as he bends down on one knee so now he’s matching your height. he gently places your foot on his knee has he puts the bandaid your heel. he repeats the same for your other heel before you put your leg down and wonwoo looks at you.
“i’m sorry”, you tell softly, gazing into his alluring eyes. “are you mad at me? it’s valid if you’re mad at me because i just ran off and completely ignored your calls and-”. you stop when you feel his hand gently squeeze yours, a small act of assurance. “you’re safe now and that’s all that matters”, he says, his voice deeply soothing. you smile, leaning in to peck his cheek. “thank you wonwoo”, you tell and he gives you a soft smile as he gets up. little did you know that wonwoo’s heart was racing from your little action as he tried to maintain his composure.
wonwoo wanders off to another room but comes back outside. “there’s only one bed”, he says, like it’s a fact. “so?”, you ask, getting up.
“i guess i’ll sleep on the couch over there”, he says, pointing towards the couch that looked like anyone would wake up with back pain if they slept on it.
“wonwoo it’s fine, we’re just gonna sleep”, you tell. “you’re acting like sleeping in the same bed is a crime”, you say. “i would prefer not to interfere-” “sleep on the bed or i’ll take the couch”, you threaten.
but now there was a bigger problem than the bed, you didn’t have any change of clothes. thankfully the hotel sold some stuff as merchandise and t-shirts and pants were in the collection too.
you go to the bathroom and change, finally stripping out of your dress and you hang it up to air, changing into the clothes you got. your feet still hurt a bit when you walked because they’d been cramped up in those tiny shoes for too long. you walk out, your eyes widening as you catch wonwoo changing his shirt and you immediately turn around, your cheeks flushing. “sorry”, you mumble before turning around after a few seconds. but you did not miss the peek you got at his abs, oh my gosh.
you mentally slap yourself and sit on the corner of the bed, a yawn taking over you as you glance at the time - 2am. you were tired, it had been a long and exhausting day. you settle in bed, wonwoo sitting on the single couch opposite you, his hair slightly ruffled now from him running his hands through it, and yet it somehow still looked fluffy. wonwoo told you he’d sleep in a bit and you close your eyes, dozing off immediately, sleep overtaking your tired body. but you wake up an hour later because of a loud crack and boom and the heavy downpour of rain. you stir awake and another lighting strikes, flashing into the room before a low rumble follows. you open your eyes and see wonwoo, who’s busy reading a book under the dim lights. you sit up slightly, another loud thunder hitting making you jump as you hit your head on the headboard, startling wonwoo as well.
“yn? are you okay?”, he asks, putting the book down and coming up to you. another loud thunder rumbles, shaking the ground and you cover your eyes, closing your eyes. you hated thunderstorms. “what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, sitting down beside you on the other side of the bed. “n-nothing i just don’t like loud noises and thunder”, you meekly say, still sleepy from the sudden intrusion. “it’s dumb i-”, you stop when another earth rumbling thunder hits, making you jump again. “can i hold your hand? it helps me calm down”, you ask softly, a little embarrassed, but wonwoo offers you his hand. it feels warm, soft and safe as you hold it and wonwoo makes himself a bit more comfortable as he sits next to you.
“what were you reading? '', you ask, letting wonwoo’s hand go after two minutes and now that you are a bit more awake, you take in wonwoo’s look. even in the dark, you could make out his hair was now messily dishevelled which only added to the charm and the glasses god, he looked so hot. you weren’t even listening to what he was saying as your hand fiddles with your ring on your finger. wonwoo looks at you and tilts his head to the side ever so slightly.
“what are you thinking about?”, he asks, his voice deep.
“n-nothing”, you fill in, feeling embarrassed about your thoughts. “how do you know i’m thinking about something”, you ask, trying to get the upper hand on wonwoo, only for it to backfire on you.
“you’re fiddling with your ring, and you only do that when you’re thinking about something or something is bothering you”, he says. well damn, he was a keen observer.
“oh”, is all you say as you look at your ring, biting your lip before you look back up at him.
“nothing, it’s really stupid”, you tell but wonwoo looks like he wasn’t going to budge until you gave him an answer.
“i’m sure it’s not stupid”, he adds, trying to reassure you, waiting expectantly. fuck it you think.
“i was just thinking about um”, you start getting nervous, your cheeks heating up and you avoid his gaze, stuttering out the next words. “i was thinking about how-um-how good you look with glasses. it really brings out your features you know and it makes you look really hot. you should wear them more often”, you confess, whispering the last bit, the familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. he doesn’t say anything, but you swear you can see the faint smirk as his lips curve up. you look away, his gaze on you suddenly too intense for you to bear.
“okay your turn, what are you thinking about”, you ask in a hurry, hoping it would turn the attention away from you.
“do you really want to know?”, he asks slowly and you nod your head, looking at him. “you don’t talk much do you, so i’m guessing there must be a lot on your mind”, you prompt. he’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks.
“i’m thinking about what a wonderful person you are”, he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “i’m thinking about how you are only so caring and attentive towards others but yourself. i’m thinking about how the whole world seems to have a wrong impression of you, and that you don’t deserve any of the shitty things happening to you right now. i’m thinking about when it will all end and when you’ll be able to be happy”, he says, his words completely catching you off guard. each of his thoughts strike a chord in you and you almost tear up. out of everyone, it seemed like only wonwoo was on your side.
“wonwoo”, you say softly, at a loss for words. you don’t even know when you leaned towards wonwoo but your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before you look back up. “i’m thinking about how gorgeous you looked tonight and that if i had the chance i would have asked you for a dance earlier tonight if not given the current circumstances”, he adds, his gaze never leaving yours as he stares into you deeply, fondly as he opens up to you.
“and as of this moment, i’m thinking about how it would be to kiss you”, he fills in and you blink up at him, getting nervous at his confession. you answer him by leaning in and softly pecking his lips, lingering for a few seconds before you pull away but still close enough that has your heart beating rapidly.
wonwoo leans in, kissing you, properly this time. his hand gently cups your cheek as he moves his lips against yours and you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that moment. you kiss him back and you move your head, accidentally knocking his glasses, making you both pull away. “oops sorry”, you say, a little breathless as your hands reach out to take off his glasses and he is quick to put them on the side table before turning his attention back to you. you look up at him. “what are you thinking about now?”, you ask, your lips centimetres away from his, and you can feel your heart racing again, the echoes of the beats loud in your chest.
“i’m thinking about how i want to kiss you again”, he says, closing the gap between you both as he captures your lips in his this time you sigh into the kiss as wonwoo cups your cheek, deepening the kiss as his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. wonwoo quite literally knocks the breath out of you as he pulls away slowly, watching your chest rise and fall. you kiss him again, getting giddy at the feeling of his lips on yours as he kisses you breathlessly again, softly pushing you down on the bed as your head rests on the pillow, wonwoo’s body hovers over yours, careful not to put his weight on you as he kisses you sweetly, the drumming of the rain outside as your soundtrack.
you wake up, wonwoo’s arms around your waist as you blink your eyes open. the sun was filtering through the white curtains, rays of sunshine adorning the floor and wall. wonwoo is still fast asleep beside you and you take this chance to look at him, really look at him. his hair is messy but cutely dishevelled, his eyes closed as soft breaths leave him as he sleeps, peaceful. he’s so pretty you think to yourself as you smile softly to yourself. you remember the events of last night, the kiss, and suddenly feel yourself getting very very shy as you bite your lips to contain the silly smile that aims to erupt across your face. you continue to admire wonwoo, his big warm hands still engulfing you as you shift slightly to check the time. when you turn back, wonwoo softly stirs awake, his pretty eyes fluttering open as he awakens.
“hi”, you say softly.
“hi”, he says, his morning voice deeply attractive.
you both look at each other, not saying anything but just taking in each other’s presence. “did you sleep okay?”, he asks, searching your face and you shake your head, mumbling something about how you’re still tired.
his hand comes up to hold yours as he gently lifts it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss, his eyes never leaving yours, making you laugh softly. god, he was so dreamy.
“what do you want to do today?”, he asks.
“sleep, i just wanna sleep”, you groan, burying your face into the pillow. wonwoo’s hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer towards him. “then sleep”, he says, placing a soft kiss to your cheek, making you smile. you close your eyes and soon drift off to sleep, wonwoo’s embrace making you feel safe and comfortable. and soon, wonwoo was also sleeping with you, both of you sleeping soundly in each other’s embrace.
it’s only around lunchtime that you both stir awake again and mostly because someone was knocking on your door, leading you to both wake up to the sudden noise.
“we have to checkout by 5pm or pay to stay another night”, he tells you. “we should leave, but the car!”, you tell, sitting up in bed.
“i’ll get it fixed, i’ve arranged for it, " he says. “i’ll go get our clothes from the hotel’s drycleaning," he says. you’d have to wear the same dress again but you didn’t mind.
wonwoo is quick to have a shower and he's changed into his suit from yesterday, that’s all clean and freshly pressed for the day minus the blazer as he tells you he’ll bring the car. you ask him if you can come along but he says it’s best to stay back. you feel a bit bummed about it but stay back nonetheless. all your luggage was in the car, in a rush you and wonwoo had forgotten it, but could change when he was back. wonwoo is finally back and you manage to get your luggage, and you change into something comfortable, ready to leave for home.
you check out and head towards the car as wonwoo loads in your luggage before spotting you, opening the car door for you. you sit upfront this time and the journey home begins. you end up talking a bit but get hungry since you really haven’t eaten anything yet. wonwoo is quick to stop by a nearby restaurant once you guys enter the city and you gladly inhale some food.
it’s been two weeks since you and wonwoo kissed and every time you thought about it, it made you all shy. wonwoo was his usual self, back in business mode but his touches now lingered and he’d talk to you sweetly, opening up to you more, and maybe somehow a little more protective of you.
you were now in jeonghan’s office, upset and mostly scared of the way your father’s trial was going. it seemed like things were going in favour of the prosecution and not your father.
“what’s going wrong”, you ask jeonghan, who only sighs at your question. “i’m really trying my best here yn”, jeonghan says, looking at you. “i really don’t know where the prosecution is getting all this new evidence from”, he says. “i’m doing my best yn but at this rate maybe it’s better for your father to serve the jail time”, he says, making you immediately protest at the thought.
“what? why should he go to jail for something he didn’t even do?”, you almost yell out.
“given the circumstances, serving ten years looks the best for him. i can even try to reduce it to seven along with community service and probation”, he adds and you click your tongue, upset at the whole idea and proposition.
he takes a few moments to think before speaking to you again. "his company has come to a standstill, someone needs to step up in the meantime and run things around there”, he starts off, being careful with his words.
“but you know what would help? if i was maybe given the power of attorney. it would help big time in trying to smooth over the company and business until things with your father are settled”, he says, giving you an assuring smile.
“you should ask my father about that”, you say. “oh i know but maybe you could also ask him, it would be helpful”, he asks.
“i’ll see”, you say. “just make sure my father gets out of this soon”, you ask jeonghan. he gives you a smile, which for some reason runs a shiver down your spine but you shake it off, getting up.
wonwoo drops you home that night after your meeting with jeonghan and walks you back inside. he can tell you’re stressed and anxious about your father’s situation as both of you linger at the doorstep. he reaches out for your hand, as he looks at you, his thumb caressing your hand in an attempt to comfort and soothe you. after a few seconds he takes a few steps forward, bringing his arms around you as he engulfs you in a much needed hug. you sigh in his arms as you close your eyes, letting yourself sink his hold.
“i’m going to be here with you every step of the way”, he reassures.
“thank you wonwoo”, you respond as you pull away and look at him.
“it’s going to be okay”, he says as he looks at you.
“i hope so”, you say, almost defeated after what jeonghan told you about earlier.
he looks at you with the most loving eyes before he leans in and kisses you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he softly moves his lips against yours as he kisses you sweetly.
“goodnight”, he says softly, sweetly. “goodnight”, you whisper back, stealing another kiss from wonwoo before you retreat back inside.
the next week when wonwoo comes to your house in the morning there’s something different about him, in his demeanour and the way he acts. he strictly keeps to himself, not indulging in small talk with you at all, and brushing your hand off when you try to hold his hand. you felt hurt but decided to brush it off. maybe he had a reason for it, but the thought that he’d be so blunt about it hurt. you wanted to ask him but you didn’t. you decide to go see your father today at the detention centre he was being kept at. you had gotten used to wonwoo’s silence but today it felt odd, suffocating almost, but you don’t say anything, suddenly feeling like a burden to wonwoo.
you’re waiting for your father as you sit on the other end of the room, a plastic divider dividing you and him. you stand up as soon as he walks in and he gives you a small smile. he looks tired.
“are you okay?”, you ask, sitting down. “i can manage," he says.
“so things aren’t going in your favour”, you say, looking at your father. “i am aware”, he says.
“what about the company? and your business? what’s going to happen to that?”, you ask.
“yn, you know i always intended for you to take over the company at some point”, he says. “but maybe you’ll have to take over earlier than i thought”, he says.
“what do you mean?”, you prompt.
“i mean that you will have to take over”, he says. “it is going to be hard, there are going to be obstacles and people are going to try and bring you down but i have faith and trust in you”, he says.
“what if i’m not ready”, you say.
“i’ll always be here and you know what they say, fake it till you make it”, your father tells, making you chuckle as you hold back your tears.
“jeonghan was asking about you giving him the power of attorney”, you say as you see your father's gaze change.
“no, if i were to give anyone the power of attorney right now, it should be you”, he says.
“but don’t you trust jeonghan? i’m sure he’ll be able to help run things until i’m ready to take over”, you say.
“i wouldn’t trust anyone right now”, your father says. “i would rather have my own child act on my behalf than jeonghan”, he says. “a power of attorney is a powerful thing and i would trust you with it more than jeonghan”, he says and you nod as you take in his words.
that evening wonwoo leaves again, and he was still cold towards you. you decided to bring it up to him tomorrow because it was starting to make you feel weird, uneasy and bad. the next day, your doorbell rings a few times. you wonder why wonwoo hasn’t bothered just entering your house like he always has. was this a new thing now? you really had to talk this out with him.
“wonwoo what are-”, you start but stop because the person in front of you wasn’t wonwoo. “who are you?”, you ask. “i’m your new bodyguard from today”, he says. you look him up and down because he didn’t look very bodyguard material.
“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, taken aback by this. he just shrugs. “i don't know, jeonghan sent me so you should talk to him”, he says before stepping in, uninvited if you had to say.
you go to your room to fetch your phone and come back to see the guy just sitting on your couch, scrolling through his phone, wow. talk about being professional.
you glare at him as you dial jeonghan. he picks up after a few rings.
“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, not wasting a second.
“no hi?”, he says, sensing the urgency in your voice.
“where’s wonwoo”, you ask again.
“wonwoo quit”, jeonghan says like it was no big deal.
“what do you mean he quit?”, you ask in shock.
“he quit yn, he told me a few days back. he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, he adds, making your heart drop.
“but why, there must have been a reason right?”, you ask jeonghan.
“i think it’s for the best yn, and besides, i told you not to get too close to him”, jeonghan says and you didn’t like the tone of his voice.
after that you call wonwoo but he doesn’t pick up but you keep calling. he couldn’t just quit on you like that. there must have been a reason. and you think back to yesterday and how he was acting so cold towards you for the last few days. you tear up at the thought. why? why would he do that? did he really just use you?
you watch as your new bodyguard sits on your couch lazily, not even bothered about trying to do his job right. you were pretty sure that if you went out the door right now, this guy wouldn’t even notice. you roll your eyes at the thought and sigh.
“i’m going to see jeonghan”, you tell. “sure, i guess i should drive you right, just let me finish this level, i’ve almost cracked it”, he says. he was not being serious right now.
after five minutes you get his attention. “excuse me?? can we go or shall i go myself?”, you ask. “i’m coming jeez, you’re so stuck up”, he says.
as soon as you burst into jeonghan’s office, he looks at you with a glint in his eyes.
“what do i owe this pleasure to”, he says.
“you could have at least hired a competent replacement, this new guy sucks actually, he doesn’t even have basic manners”, you tell jeonghan.
“he was the best replacement i could find”, jeonghan tells nonchalantly and you scoff.
“best replacement? you’ve got to be kidding me right now. wonwoo was the best and he was actually qualified. this guy looks like someone you just picked off the street”, you argue.
jeonghan doesn’t say anything as he filters through the stack of papers on his desk, finding what he was looking for before he looks back up at you. “did you ask your father about the power of attorney thing?”, he asks, changing the topic.
“i did and he wasn’t too keen on it. he said he’d rather give me the power of attorney power than you”, you say but jeonghan doesn’t seem fazed at all.
“i expected that, so why don’t we start processing the papers to give you power of attorney. and then you can transfer it to me right? i can hold fort until you’re ready”, he says, more like he’d had it all planned out rather than asking you.
“i’ll process the papers to make you power of attorney for now”, he says. “okay”, you say. “now if you’ll excuse me, i have a lot of work of work to do”, he tells.
“what did wonwoo tell you when he quit”, you quickly ask.
“yn we are not going there”
“just tell me, please”
“he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, jeonghan says.
“that’s all he said?”, you ask.
“yes”, and suddenly all your hopes sink.
you get back home and in the following days you just stay at home. you were somehow on the news these days, and for the dumbest reason really, it was like people were trying to nitpick you apart and post things about you. you called wonwoo again and texted him a bunch of times but there was not one single response. you couldn’t believe that wonwoo would do something like that, after all you guys shared. it broke your heart really.
and to say your new bodyguard was incompetent was an understatement. the other day he couldn’t even protect you from being mobbed or spot the paparazzi that you caught in a blink of an eye. you wanted wonwoo, you missed him.
you go to jeonghan’s office and go to the detention centre again to get the power of attorney transferred to you because your dad also had to be present.
your dad carefully reads the document, making sure everything was right, even the fine print that people tend to ignore before deeming it legal and everything was good. he signs it and puts his stamp on it and so do you.
“use this power wisely yn, i’m trusting you”, he says and you nod.
when you reach home, you’re just waiting for the new guy to go.
“give me your phone”, the new guy says, coming up to you and he doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s plucking your phone out of your hand.
“what the hell?”, you ask, trying to take your phone back but he doesn’t let you.
“no more phone for you for the time being, jeonghan’s orders, with all these headlines about you going around he says it’s for the best”, he says.
“no give me my phone back”, you demand but he grabs your hand, pushing you towards your room, slamming the door shut and you hear the lock engage. you try to open the door but it doesn’t.
“hey open this door right now”, you tell, beating your hand on the door. “that’s not going to change anything”, he says, chucking as you hear his footsteps around the hallway.
“she’s locked up”, he says, talking to someone on the phone.
“let me out”, you yell again, banging your fist on the door again.
“shut it”, he says, kicking the door, only prompting you to bang your fist on the door harder.
but after no avail you stop, sinking to the ground, tears already welling in your eyes. your life just really kept getting shitty and shittier didn’t it.
you open your eyes as you hear the key rattle on the other side, the doorknob rattling and the door opening. you’re quick to stand up.
“what the fuck is wrong with you”, you yell but the new guy doesn’t seem fazed at all. “he wants to see you”, he tells, grabbing your hand but you pull it out of his grip. “move”, he demands and you reluctantly move towards the hall and your eyes go wide at who you see - jeonghan.
“did you do this?”, you ask, in shock.
“i have to get things done don’t i yn”, he says, giving you that creepy smile again. “and now you’re going to be a good girl and sign these papers”. he says, holding out in front of you.
“what is that”, you ask. “the transfer of power of attorney from you to me”, he says.
“there’s no way in hell i’m doing that after what you just fucking did”, you spit out, getting upset.
“getting feisty now are we? let’s not forget that your father’s fate lies in my hands and if you do not sign this paper right now, i will send your father to rot in jail for the rest of his life”, he says, threatening you.
“what-you can’t-you wouldn’t”, you say.
“oh believe me yn, i would. so choose. your father goes to jail or you sign these papers and save his life”, he demands.
“why are you doing this”, you ask bitterly.
“because your father is an idiot and this is the one time i’ve outsmarted him”, jeonghan tells, smug.
“what are you talking about? if you want money give me a number, i’ll give it to you, just stop all this”, you plead.
“oh i’ll get my money yn, but i need to see your father crumble down, that’s what he deserves”, jeonghan says.
he thrusts the papers towards your face. “sign it”, he demands.
“over your dead body, i’m not signing shit jeonghan”, you spit back.
“i don’t think right now is the time to be rebellious yn”, he says, pursing his lips in a thin line.
“oh i’ve always been rebellious jeonghan and i’m not going to let you get away with this”, you tell.
“i doubt that”, he tells, signalling for the bodyguard as he grabs your arm and drags you to your room, pushing you inside and locking the door again.
“think again yn, you’re only getting out of here when these documents are signed and by then it’ll be too late to do anything”, jeonghan says from the other side of the door.
“fuck you jeonghan, you just wait, i’m gonna get you”, you spit out.
you hear him say something only catching the last words being ‘don’t let her out’ .
what the fuck was happening to your life. fuck. you bang your fist on the door, letting out your frustration, sinking to your knees as you try to hold it in, keep it together but you can't. you bang the door a couple more times as tears roll down your cheeks. and yet, the only person you could think of in this situation was wonwoo. only he could help you now, he would know what to do. but you had no means to contact him after your phone was taken away and you were now locked in the room.
you bury your head in your knees, trying to breathe and think. think yn and that’s when you get an idea - your laptop. it was synced to your phone contacts. you get up, rushing to grab your laptop, frantically opening it and you open the messages app and find wonwoo. all your previous texts to him are still unread. no you needed to find him, texting him wasn’t going to work right now. but the question was how? and that’s when you remember the thing jeonghan had sent you before , wonwoo’s resume, which had his address, bingo.
you open your chat logs with jeonghan, scrolling up till the part when jeonghan had sent you wonwoo’s resume and just as you guessed, his address was on it. you grab a pen and jot down the address on a scrap piece of paper. but how were you going to get there? you looked up and at the window behind your desk. you get up, pushing your table to the side slowly trying not to make any loud noises, huffing and puffing.
after you manage to push the table aside enough, you slide the window open and poke your head out, looking at the distance but the jump wasn’t too bad. you slowly swing your legs over, taking a breath before reaching down with your feet and them jumping. the only protection you had against the bare ground was your socks right now. you close the window behind you and look left and right. you slowly and quietly walk towards the back gate and open it slowly, making a quick escape and you jog down the road. you look at the address that’s now crumpled in your hand and it wasn’t too far. you didn’t have cash or anything on your to take the bus so walking you were.
fifteen minutes in and you're getting tired and you put on the hood of your hoodie, hoping no one would recognise you but continue speed walking to the address in your hand. wonwoo would know what to do. wonwoo could help you. wonwoo. you start picking up your speed as you walk without even realising and soon you're running, your legs are working on their own, desperate for an escape and to find wonwoo. after sprinting and jogging for a bit you finally come up to the address, his apartment and you bend down, resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath.
you’re about to walk in when security stops you. “i’m here to see wonwoo, he lives here right”, you ask between breaths.
“mr. jeon? are you his guest?”, the security asks.
“yes, yes, please which building does he live in”, you ask, pulling your hood down in an aim to not let the man recognise you.
“wouldn’t you know that if you know him?”
“please, it’s urgent”, you ask. “he knows me i swear”, you tell. “it's an emergency just, please tell me”, you plead.
the man finally tells you the information and you sprint to the building and run up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator to come. you open the staircase door, entering the main floor, your chest heaving from the effort of running up the stairs. you were lucky you didn’t fall on your face at the pace you were going at. you locate his door number and you stand in front of it and suddenly you’re scared. what if he didn’t open the door? what if he wasn’t here? you can hear your heart pounding in your chest as you raise your hand to ring his doorbell. a few moments pass and nothing and you ring it again and again. shit was he not home?
you take a step back, your head down, suddenly feeling defeated when you hear the doorknob rattle and the door opens. you look up and wonwoo is in front of you. he was really here. you found him.
“yn?”, he asks, as he adjusts the glasses on his face as if he couldn't believe it was you at his doorstep. you get hit with a wave of emotions at that minute and wonwoo is asking you something but you’re not listening as your vision gets blurry and all you can do in that moment in crash into wonwoo’s arms as you start to sob in his chest, the impact making wonwoo stumble before he held onto you. you weren’t crying because you were upset, you were crying because you felt relief - relief that you finally found wonwoo.
you pull away from him and look up and he finally sees the state you’re in, bare feet and he’s quick to spot the bruises on your knuckles and hands from banging on the door as you wipe your tears. wonwoo looks you up and down as he takes both your hands in, his expression suddenly dark as he looks at you.
“who did this to you”, he asks sternly as another tear escapes you.
“j-jeonghan”, you stutter out through a sob. “they’re working together and t-they locked me in the room”, you tell and you can see the rage burning behind wonwoo’s eyes.
“jeonghan did this?”, he asks, anger seething in his eyes and you nod.
“he’s-he’s been behind all this the whole time, the whole reason my father is in jail a-and he was threatening me”, you tell in a rush, not making a coherent sentence.
wonwoo pulls you in a hug, holding you tight. “where were you, why did you leave?”, you demand through a broken sob as the door behind you closes. “i missed you”, you tell softly, your voice cracking as a few more sobs escape you.
“fuck, i missed you too”, he says as he hugs you tighter. you feel something soft rub around your legs and look down, seeing wonwoo’s cat near your feet. “your cat”, you say as you sniffle.
you’re on the couch now, wonwoo giving you new socks and slippers to wear as freshen up, washing your face and feet. wonwoo’s cat is inquisitive of you, sitting on the floor in front of you as she looks at you. “hi oreo”, you say and she meows, making you smile.
wonwoo busies himself in the kitchen as he makes you some chamomile tea to help you calm down and sets the steaming mug in front of you. wonwoo also sets down an envelope next to the mug, signalling for you to open it. you look at him before your hand reaches out for the envelope and you open it, the contents inside making you gasp.
“what’s this?”, you ask, as you sift through the pile of photos, each one making you upset and even more confused. they were pictures of you and wonwoo at the hotel that night after the event, but the person who took them captured you wonwoo sharing a kiss and you sleeping in his wonwoo’s arms. you feel a surge of rage in your body as you look at this.
“this is what jeonghan gave me and he tried to blackmail me with this”, wonwoo says, breaking the silence. “he threatened me with these, saying if i didn’t quit that he would give these photos to the press. i don’t know what he was planning but i did what he said because i didn’t want you getting hurt”, he says. “the bastard probably had someone tail us and take this”, he adds.
“i know it was sudden but there was nothing i could do, he was strict on not making any sort of contact with you afterwards. he said he was watching me and that otherwise these pictures would get leaked in a second if i contacted you and i didn’t want that. i don’t know what sort of twisted sick game he’s playing but i didn’t want you waking up one day and seeing these pictures in the headlines. you’re already going through hell right now and this was the least i could do to protect your reputation, to protect you”, he says, his hand finding yours as he gives it a small squeeze.
‘i’m going to kill jeonghan i swear to god”, you mutter under your breath.
“we have to help my father, we have to do something, you’ll help me right?”, you ask, pleading almost.
“of course yn. i was dying everyday i couldn't see you or tell you what really happened, i was just praying you wouldn’t hate me for it”, he tells.
after things between you both get cleared up, you promptly end up falling asleep, curled up in his arms on the couch. when you were with wonwoo you felt safe, secure, like the world was going to be okay, that you were going to be okay. wonwoo gently carries you to his bed, tucking you in as he slips inside the sheets beside you, watching you sleep and he vowed to himself - that no matter what, he was going to protect you.
you stir awake in the morning in wonwoo’s soft sheets, turning around and seeing the other side of the bed empty. you walk outside, seeing wonwoo busy in the kitchen as he sets a pot on the table. he spots you.
“good morning”, he says and you give him a small smile. “morning”, you tell as you move closer to wonwoo, seeing the small breakfast spread laid out on the table. you hear a meow, followed by another and another.
“someone is hungry”, you joke as you look at oreo waiting for wonwoo to give her food.
“she’s usually patient, aren’t you oreo”, wonwoo says and oreo meows in agreement and protest. you chuckle, this side of wonwoo was adorable.
you both sit down to eat and you’re grateful for the meal, later insisting that you help wonwoo clean up and wash the dishes, even though he insists you don’t need to but your stubbornness wins and he leans on the side of the counter as he watches you wash the dishes, looking defeated.
just then there’s a knock on the door. wonwoo stands alert and checks who it is.
“it’s jeonghan” wonwoo says softly.
“shit, what do we do?”
“go to my room, close the door and stay there till i tell you to come out”, wonwoo instructs and you’re quick to go to his room, closing the door.
wonwoo opens his front door and jeonghan stands there looking irritated.
“what is it?”, wonwoo asks, giving jeonghan a cold stare.
“where’s yn?”, he asks, running a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“how should i know”, wonwoo says.
“listen wonwoo, lying right now is not going to help”
“i don’t know where yn is”, wonwoo repeated.
“if she contacts you, you tell me right away, got it”, jeonghan says as he points a finger at wonwoo.
“did something happen?”, wonwoo asks, trying to assess the situation.
“oh nothing, yn just seems to have gone off without informing anyone, i was just worried”, he tells, giving wonwoo a fake smile before leaving.
you hear the door close, wonwoo telling you that jeonghan was gone.
“he’s looking for you alright. i think it’s better you don’t go out for the time being. you can stay with me till then and we can come up with a plan together okay”, he says, one hand caressing your cheek. you nod.
later that day, wonwoo says he’ll hire a new lawyer for your father and appeal to the court and also indict jeonghan. but the only problem was that how were you going to prove everything that jeonghan was doing? if you only had that evidence it would also help in proving your father innocent.
“i could hire someone to raid his house maybe”, wonwoo says.
“what, you can do that?”you asked him, shocked but liking the idea.
“i mean he’s not playing fair either is he? let’s mess with him a little”, wonwoo says.
“but how will you find someone to do that?”, you ask curiously.
“i have connections sweetheart”, he tells. “i’m an impressive man you know”, he adds and you smile. “i'm sure you are”.
over the next few days, things move quickly. wonwoo makes the required arrangements and the meeting with the new lawyer is online because jeonghan likely putting someone to stakeout and watch wonwoo’s place in case you showed up. wonwoo is smart to keep the curtains drawn at all times so no one could peek inside either. the first priority was indicting jeonghan which would make him suspend him from working, and your father’s case would have more time and more time right now was good.
the next week jeonghan is indicted, and a legal notice is sent to his office courtesy of the impressive new lawyer that wonwoo hired. with the indictment jeonghan could not go anywhere, he couldn’t flee or travel and he’d be called for a formal court hearing on wednesday. as you got ready on wednesday morning to go to the court hearing because you were the one indicting jeonghan so you had to be there. you were nervous, standing in front of the mirror in wonwoo’s room. wonwoo was accompanying you too of course, he wasn’t going to let you go out there alone when you were going to go fight. you were going to show the world who you really were.
you reach the courthouse where the hearing will take place and it seems like everything is already on the news, the hoard of journalists and news reporters already crowding the place. you walk inside with wonwoo and head to the courtroom. as soon as you enter you see jeonghan, who clenches his jaw as he makes his way towards you, clearly upset and shocked.
“yn what the hell is all this”, jeonghan nearly shouts, his hand reaching out to grab yours but wonwoo grabs his hand instead, stopping him.
“watch it jeonghan”, wonwoo warns as jeonghan pulls his arm out from wonwoo’s grip.
“you’re not going to get away with all this”, you tell.
the hearing starts and you’re sitting with wonwoo’s lawyer and beside you on the other side is jeonghan and his lawyer.
“miss yn has made an indictment to mr. yoon over criminal activity and fraud”, the judge says, looking at you.
“yes your honour”, your lawyer fills in.
“what is the accused stand on this matter?”, the judge asks.
“my client mr.yoon is not guilty your honour”, jeonghan’s lawyer says and you scoff, glaring at him.
“does the plaintiff have evidence to support these claims?”, the judge asks.
“not yet but we are working on it”, your lawyer explains.
“i request the charges against my client to be dropped because they are completely baseless and defamatory”, jeonghan’s lawyer demands.
“given the nature of the accusations and that mr.yoon is also a well known person in his respective industry, i will give the plaintiff one week to gather sufficient evidence otherwise the charges and case will be dropped due to lack of evidence”, the judge grants before dismissing the court.
you’re laying wonwoo’s bed lost in thought. now the only problem was trying to find evidence. sure, you could still testify but without any evidence, your claims would be useless. there had to be a way and you were sure you were missing a vital piece of information. if only there had been cameras you think and it hits you. you get up in a gasp. that was it, the cctv cameras at your home. you get up, rushing to find wonwoo, who’s in the other room doing something on his computer.
“i figured it out wonwoo”, you tell and he looks up at you. “the cctv cameras you installed at my home, they would have captured jeonghan on it and what he did”, you say and you watch wonwoo’s eyes light up as he follows what you’re saying.
“he was at your house that night?”, he asks.
“yes! and the cameras would have picked it up”, you say.
“and it must have picked up on the audio too”, he states.
"audio?", you ask.
"yes, i installed one's that recorded audio too", he fills in. “yn this is amazing”, he adds “and the best part, i have access to the cctv cameras”, wonwoo adds.
“i just hope jeonghan didn’t get to them”, you tell, worried.
“no, he doesn’t know about them, i didn’t tell him”, wonwoo says.
“you are a genius”, you tell, leaning down to pepper his cheek with a kiss.
“i could say the same thing about you”, he tells, his hands finding your waist.
you smile, looking down at him, frowning when you notice the fingerprints on his glasses. your hands move up, carefully sliding them off as you clean them with the corner of your shirt, asking how he could even see as you gently put the glasses back on his face.
“we might have found some information from jeonghan’s computer and files”, wonwoo adds. “i’ll pass it on to my lawyer, he’ll handle it”.
“do you think we can pull this off?”, you ask wonwoo, your hands resting on his shoulders as you look down at him, wonwoo still seated on his chair.
“i think we can”, he tells, assuring you.
that night, wonwoo filters through the cctv footage to that night and just like you’d predicted, the whole incident where he came to your home and basically confessed what he was doing was recorded, the audio was impeccable too. jeonghan could kiss his life goodbye now. wonwoo hands off this evidence to his lawyer and now you can just wait.
it’s finally the day. you were ready but also nervous and anxious. a thousand what if’s went through your mind as you got ready that morning. you had been informed that your father would also be present at the court hearing since the case indirectly involved him. wonwoo drops you off at the court that morning.
“where are you going?”, you ask, grabbing onto his hand.
“the lawyer just called me, i need to quickly pick up something for him, but i’ll be back okay”, he assures. you nod and wait outside. there was still time for the hearing to take place in 30 minutes approximately.
wonwoo isn’t back even after your lawyer arrives. you’re constantly checking your watch and seeing the time, looking out to see if you can spot wonwoo but you can’t see him.
“i can’t see wonwoo? didn’t he come with you?”, the lawyer asks and you furrow your brows in confusion.
“what do you mean? he told me you called him asking him to get something”, you tell and he looks back at you equally confused. “i did no such thing”, he says.
you fish out your phone and try to call him but it goes unanswered. you try again but no answer.
“yn it’s time, let’s go”, your lawyer says and you put your phone back inside, hoping wonwoo was okay.
-at court-
“your honour, if you look here, you will see the cctv footage of mr.yoon and his men who were at my client's house on the night of the 8th. you can see the person, who was supposed to be yn’s bodyguard, lock up my client in the room and call mr.yoon, who arrives shortly. you can see clearly how mr.yoon threatened my clinet yn and even confessed to what he’s been doing, saying that he intentionally manipulated and betrayed yn’s father and set him up because he has an ulterior motive”, your lawyer states.
the video of that night plays and there’s no way that anyone would not believe you anymore. it was clear as crystal what jeonghan was up to now and his true motives were revealed.
“does the defendant have anything to say?” the judge asks.
“yes, i’d like to cross examine the client”, jeonghan lawyer says, stepping up and coming up to the witness stand where you were sitting. after your cross examination is done the judge announces that the final verdict will be delivered next week, on friday. given the high profile individuals that were involved in the case, a prompt but careful decision would be made. friday is a week away from now. the court is adjourned and you get up and leave, jeonghan purposely bumping into you as you go out, giving you a smirk.
you pick up your phone and call wonwoo again and the call is finally answered. “wonwoo where are you?”, you ask.
“hello is this someone that mr.jeon is acquainted with?”, the other person on the line asks, a female.
“yes, can i know who this is?”
“i’m calling from goodwill hospital, mr. jeon has been in an accident”, she says and your heart drops.
your feet start moving on their own as you run outside, pushing through the crowd of reporters and almost tripping as you try to hail a taxi, on your way to the hospital. you rush into the hospital asking for wonwoo at the front desk. you’re guided to his room, where the doctor explains that he was extremely lucky and only suffered from minor injuries. he would need a few days of rest and he could then be discharged. you’re instantly relieved to hear that but you’re still anxious.
you peek into his room, slowly sliding the door open as you walk in, taking in his state and you instantly teared up. you sit beside him, reaching out to hold his hand as you keep your head down, looking at your hand on top of his. a couple of minutes pass by and you feel a soft squeeze of your hand and you look up seeing wonwoo awake.
“wonwoo”, you are relieved he was awake. “are you okay-shit no that’s a stupid question, you’re obviously not okay”, you tell in a rush.
he sits up slowly, wincing in pain but otherwise keeping a straight face.
“what happened?”, you ask softly.
“i got jumped by jeonghan’s men. i only figured when i was already back at the apartment that the call was indeed not the lawyer”, wonwoo explains.
“shit”, you say.
“i shouldn’t have let you go, i should have insisted you stay”, you tell, feeling like this was all your fault now.
“hey, hey look at me”, wonwoo says.
“i just don’t want you to end up getting hurt because of me”, you tell.
“i’m okay yn, i’m a tough guy you know”, he says, trying to lighten the mood.
after he’s rested enough and the doctors deem him okay, he’s discharged and you take him home. you tell wonwoo all about the court hearing today and now the only thing you could do was wait.
-final hearing-
the media has been on fire the last few days, jeonghan’s case gaining the entire country's attention. but even then, people were 50/50 about the chances of who would win even though the evidence was pretty clear. but you could never tell, the law wasn’t always fair sometimes and you just prayed that it would be fair to you. wonwoo was much better now and was healing well and he insisted on accompanying you, even though you told him he should stay at home and rest.
you’re sitting in front, jeonghan on the opposite side and the court house was crowded, the media causing an uproar outside, eager to report every single second and eager to find out the final verdict of the case. the judge looks at you, and then at jeonghan before they announce the verdict.
“given the high profile of the case and the evidence submitted from both ends, we have carefully reviewed the evidence and points of this case. it has come to a unanimous decision that the defendant, mr. yoon jeonghan is found guilty and will serve ten years in jail and have to pay a fine as well for the damages done and emotional distress caused to the plaintiff.
you cover your mouth in shock. you did it. you won! you couldn’t believe it as you cover your mouth in shock, tears filling your eyes. your father looks at you and the look he gave you was nothing short of proud. you won, your father was going to be free and jeonghan was going to go to jail, he was going to get punished and things were going to be okay now.
as people start filtering out, you’re looking for wonwoo, whom you can’t seem to spot anywhere. you had to tell him. through the crowd, you manage to head out of the courtroom where people start congratulating you and your father. but you were only focused on finding wonwoo.
you run out, only to end up getting ambushed by all the news reporters and journalists, all of them eager to know your thoughts as they bombard you with questions.
“how do you feel yn?”
“how does it feel to know your father is free”
“please share a few words”
you were being bombarded with questions that were going straight through your head and that’s when you heard someone call out your name - wonwoo. you turn around, spotting him on the other side, a few feet away from you. you smile and run towards him, running into his arms as he picks you up and spins you around.
“we did it”, you whisper, your face inches away from his. “we did it”, he repeats, giving you a proud smile. you lean in, kissing him, not caring about what people were going to think anymore. wonwoo kisses you back with the same fierceness, like he was telling you that he was going to stand by you, so that you could conquer the world with him.
-epilogue-
after your father was dropped from all the accusations and was free, his company was slowly starting to gain traction again. the people were now in support of him, now more than ever and people wanted to know his story. but he always said one thing - that he wouldn't have been able to do it without you by his side. you ended up finally graduating college after your father approached them and they did give you extra credits for the trouble they caused you. you’d gotten your own office space in your dad’s building to work from and you were on your way to build your own company that stood for what it believed it.
you’re standing in front of wonwoo in your office with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare him down. he only stands, blinking down at you.
“what is it love?”, he asks.
“we can’t do this anymore wonwoo”, you tell and a wave of emotion seems to go through wonwoo’s face.
“do what?”, he asks calmly.
“this!”, you say, gesturing your hands between him and you.
“i don’t want you to be my bodyguard anymore”, you state and he furrows his brows, confused.
“what do you mean?”, he asks. “did i do something wrong?”, he asks, taking a small step towards you.
“i don’t need a bodyguard anymore”, you tell sternly.
“i beg to differ”, he says calmly.
“i want you to be my boyfriend”, you say and he raises a brow at this proposition.
“i thought i already was”, he mumbles as he bashfully pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“no more of this bodyguard business, you can be my full-time boyfriend now”, you tell and you can see the small smile playing on wonwoo’s lips.
“but isn’t a bodyguard and boyfriend in one an advantage?”, he asks.
“but i just want you to be my boyfriend instead”, you say, pouting.
“but the perks of having a bodyguard and a boyfriend is truly one of a kind”, he says, stepping closer as hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
“oh really?”, you ask, tilting you heard to the side.
“and what might that be?”, you ask, settling your hands on wonwoo’s shoulders.
“you know, i can protect you, plus you get to see my handsome face 24/7”, he says and you snort.
“what i know you love it. if i had a dollar everytime i caught you staring at me-”,
“shut up”, you tell, giggling.
“and the most important perk of all, free kisses”, he tells and you chuckle even more. “what? you’re always stealing kisses from me and-”, you cut him off by kissing him, which only seems to prove the point he was making.
“see, you can’t do that”, he tells, leaning in.
“why not”, you ask, playing along.
“because you’re distracting me from my work”, he says, leaning in and kissing you again.
“that’s why you need to stop this bodyguard stuff and just be my boyfriend instead”, you whisper against his lips.
“but then you won’t see me 24/7”, he tells.
“but then i can distract you”, you fill in.
“hm we’ll see about that love”, he says, before he captures your lips and kisses you breathlessly.
summary: curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back- at least, that's what they say.
warnings: swearing, blood, asshole!wonwoo, mingyu is canonically a whore, light blasphemy, smut (18+ ; mdni)
smut warnings: hard dom!wonwoo, allusions to voyeurism, degradation, oral (f receiving), blood play?!?!? (just a little bit!!!), wap!reader, massive cock!wonwoo, choking, protected sex
word count: 3.3k
reader notes: reader is significantly shorter than ww + described to have long-ish hair
You’ve never felt as small as you do right now. Wonwoo looms over you, smirking. He isn’t even that much taller than you, you just seem to shrink into yourself when you’re around him, which seems to be happening more and more often lately.
“Found you,” he whispers.
“I... wasn’t hiding,” you say, your voice coming out in a squeak.
“You know it isn’t nice to lie,” he chides, taking a step closer to you. You take a step backward in kind, only to be met with the cool concrete wall against your back. “It also isn’t nice to eavesdrop.”
“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to,” you insist.
Wonwoo tsks. “I don’t believe you. What did I just say about lying?”
“Well, it isn’t nice to be super loud all the time either!” you scoff. “You have neighbors, you know.”
The overhead light flickers. You and Wonwoo both stare at it, the inconsistent hum of electricity filling the silence before the light eventually decides to stay lit. You breathe a sigh of relief. You really needed to stop overlooking sketchy apartments for the sake of the rent, especially if you were going to have to deal with people like... him.
Wonwoo cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you mean what am I talking about? Listen, I don’t care who you fuck but if you could be just a little quieter-”
Wonwoo cuts you off with a laugh. “That’s what this is about? That’s why you were snooping outside my apartment? What, were you hoping to catch a glimpse of her leaving or something?”
So you had been right... you’re not sure whether or not you’re happy about that. What you are sure of, though, is that you’re offended that you’re being accused of snooping. You open your mouth to defend yourself but stop short.
“You’re bleeding,” is what you say instead.
Wonwoo touches his lip, thumb brushing across the cut he must not have noticed until you mentioned it. He looks down at his fingers briefly then back up at you.
“Come with me.”
“Wha- huh?”
“You want to know what’s so loud, right? So come on.”
You follow him blindly back down the hall to his apartment, the one right next to yours. You’re doing everything a final girl in a horror movie shouldn’t do, but you’re dying to know what’s been keeping you up at night.
Wonwoo unlocks the door and stands aside to let you in first. With a gulp, you cross the threshold and slip off your shoes. He does the same.
The apartment is quiet, for once. It looks a lot like yours but mirrored. The kitchen is off to the right instead of the left. The half bathroom is on the wall opposite to yours, likely connected via plumbing.
The place is a lot cleaner than you expected too. It’s sparse, typical for a single guy, but still relatively well decorated.
Wonwoo heads straight to the kitchen and turns on the sink. He wets a paper towel and dabs at his bottom lip, wincing as he cleans the wound.
“Why am I here?” you ask when he doesn’t offer an explanation.
He doesn’t answer right away. Granted, the man was still bleeding but he’d dragged you here for a reason and now you were just standing in his kitchen.
Eventually, he disposes of the paper towel, washes his hands, and walks across the living room without saying a word. You know he expects you to follow him but you almost don’t want to. You do follow him, you want to leave as fast as possible, but you consider it.
He opens the door to what you know is a bedroom and points inside. You stare at him blankly.
“What am I looking at?”
“This isn’t my room,” he says.
“What?”
“It’s my roommate’s.”
“You have a roommate?”
“I do. I have a roommate. He’s the one you share a wall with. He’s the one banging a different girl every night. Your issues are with him, not me.”
Now that you were thinking about it, you have seen a slightly taller, beefier man around the building. That must be who Wonwoo’s roommate is. He definitely had the face to pull all the girls Wonwoo was referring to. Not that Wonwoo didn’t-
“So take it up with him.”
You shake your head and purse your lips. “No, that doesn’t explain everything. I’ve heard your voice too. Unless you’re the one he’s banging...” you trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.
“He’s not my type,” Wonwoo says flatly.
“Okay, then what is it?”
“C’mere,” he says, moving along the wall to what you use as a breakfast nook in your apartment.
In his, the space is empty save for a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
“You box?”
“It’s a hobby.”
“Is that why you were bleeding?”
“Yeah, I just got back from the gym.”
“And that’s what I’ve been hearing?”
“That’s what you’ve been hearing.”
You nod but don’t say anything else, half waiting for an apology that he doesn’t offer. He just leans against the wall with his arms crossed.
“Well, do you think you could practice your hobby before midnight? Or at least try to keep it down when you do?” you huff in annoyance.
He sighs like what you’re asking is the biggest inconvenience he’s ever been posed with but concedes.
“I guess.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll have to talk to Mingyu about his... hobby, though. Or get noise canceling headphones. That’s what I did.”
“Oh, okay.”
Silence stretches between you again, heightening the tension in the room. You don’t know what to do. Were you supposed to show yourself out now that you had your answers? Wonwoo isn’t giving you any indication that he wants you to leave but he isn't giving any indication that he wants you to stay either.
You don’t have the time or energy to deal with this. You can’t read the man’s mind. No matter how hard he stares at you from across a room. With a definitive breath, you turn on your heel to head for the door just to be stopped by Wonwoo’s voice echoing behind you.
“Are you disappointed?”
You stop but don’t turn around. “What?”
“Are you disappointed that it isn’t me you’ve been hearing?” he clarifies.
Heat rises to your cheeks. “Wh-what do you mean? Why would I be?”
You feel him approach from behind, his shadow closing in on you before he does.
“Because it isn’t my voice you’ve been touching yourself to.”
“What?!” You do turn around this time, whipping around so fast your ponytail almost whacks Wonwoo in the face.
“You don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when I pass you in the hallway?”
You scoff, breathing a subtle sigh of relief. All he had to go off of was a look but if he had heard you through the wall, if he had that irrefutable evidence, it would definitely be over for you. “If that’s what you think lust looks like, I feel bad for all the girls you have slept with.”
“Resentment and lust have a very long history together,” he whispers.
“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?”
You feign ignorance. “About what?”
“About you.” He measures you up with his gaze, something triumphant flashing behind his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he presses. “Tell me you’ve never gotten off to the thought of me and I’ll drop it.”
You weigh your options. You could lie. You could save yourself the embarrassment and lie right to his face, although given your track record thus far he’d see right through it. Or, you could tell him the truth. You could admit to wishing you were the one in what you thought had been his bed all this time.
You settle on silence and let him draw his own conclusion. A smirk tugs at one side of Wonwoo’s mouth. So he did think highly of himself.
“I fucking knew it,” he murmurs.
Before you can deny it, he straightens back up and starts walking toward the back of the apartment.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he announces.
You don’t move from where you’re standing, unsure of what he wants you to do. Was he hinting at you to leave? Was it an invitation?
Wonwoo looks back over his shoulder at you. “Are you coming?”
“Hopefully,” you mutter.
“Hm?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
-
The water is already running by the time you slip into the bathroom after Wonwoo. You watch quietly as he undresses, letting the door click shut gently behind you. It occurs to you that you should be taking your clothes off too but you can’t look away.
Wonwoo’s kind enough to snap you out of it. “I didn’t ask you in here just to watch me.”
“You didn’t ask me in here at all,” you point out, “you just expected me to follow you.”
“And you did.”
Damn, he had you there.
With a noise of indignation, you pop the button on your jeans and start to wiggle out of them, unable to bring yourself to look at him again now that you’re also exposed. You can feel his eyes on you, though. It has the same effect his presence always has on you, and you attempt to cover yourself with your hands.
“Shy?” he muses. “Cute.”
“Shut up,” you sputter.
You don’t think you’ve felt this self conscious since college and then he laughs at your response which does nothing to help.
“I can’t call you cute?”
“Not if you’re patronizing me.”
“How do you want me to say it, then?” he asks, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. You stare at him in disbelief. “You want me to say it like this? Want me to tell you how cute, how pretty, I think you are, from down here? How pretty I think this pussy is?” Wonwoo leans forward as he talks, further and further until his hair is tickling your tummy and his lips are moving against your skin. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmurs.
You do, taking hold of the countertop so that you won’t fall as Wonwoo slots himself between your thighs. You take a deep breath to brace yourself for the feeling of his mouth but absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the way he presses a gentle kiss to your pussy before diving in. The softness of the action compared to everything that led up to this moment, compared to the way he was now drowning himself in you, is enough to make your knees threaten to give. Your grip on the counter tightens and you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though you’re sure he already knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
Wonwoo hitches one of your knees over his shoulder so that he can get even deeper inside of you with his tongue. He drinks you in, breathes you in, douses himself in you like he’s trying to baptize himself in order to atone for his sins.
If this was his apology for all the noise, he’s forgiven ten times over.
You can feel callouses on the palms of his hands as he traces them up your legs and over your ass, pulling you even further into him. The force of his grip causes you to stumble but he catches you before you can fall and helps you to regain your balance.
“I’ve got you,” he assures you, backing you up into the sink. “Here, hop up on the counter.”
“What about the shower?” you ask, suddenly remembering that the water had been running this whole time.
“Oh shit-”
Wonwoo turns around and reaches to turn it off, drying both his hand and his face with a towel that had been hanging on the wall.
“Now, hop up on the counter.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, glancing at all of the skin and hair care products scattered across it.
Wonwoo pushes them out of the way then nods.
“I’m sure. Mingyu won’t care, trust me. He’d be a hypocrite to.”
You sigh but hoist yourself onto the counter anyway, too horny to worry about it any longer. Wonwoo steps in between your legs and lets you wrap them around his waist. He leans down, you think he’s going to kiss you, but he goes for your neck and kisses you there instead.
“Why are you pouting?” he asks, voice muffled and vibrating against your throat.
“Want you to fuck me,” you lie.
It’s not a complete lie, you do want him to fuck you, but it certainly isn’t the full truth either. You’re afraid that if you’re honest with Wonwoo about wanting him to kiss you it’ll turn him off. He’s not about to make love to you, that much is clear, so was kissing off the table? Was that too intimate for a hookup like this? Would he think you wanted something more if you asked?
“I was getting to that,” he insists lowly. “So impatient.”
“You’re the one who ate me out as soon as you got me alone. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”
There. Maybe if you challenged him he’d give you what you wanted.
“Oh, you want me to kiss you, huh?”
He wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in, finally pressing his lips to yours. Men were so easy.
He tastes like you imbued with unfamiliarity. Blood, you realize when you pull back and see the cut on his lip had reopened. It isn’t much, just enough to make him look vaguely vampiric. You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip and push it into his mouth for him to suck on.
He does, but he has the audacity to pretend not to like it.
“You’re sick,” Wonwoo scoffs.
“And you’re still hard.”
“Two things can be true at the same time.”
He kisses you again before you can get another word in, dropping his free hand between your legs to ensure you're truly unable to talk back.
He uses his fingers to tease you for a moment or two and then he teases you with the head of his cock, pressing it right up against you and making you whimper into his mouth.
“Tell me, what have you been thinking about all these months,” he murmurs, “when you’re in your bed all alone listening through the wall?”
“I- it’s embarrassing...” you protest.
Wonwoo draws back, tonguing his cheek as he gazes down at you. “Tell me or we’re done here.”
You’re not sure whether or not he’ll make good on his threat but you don’t want to call his bluff and risk blowing your chance to actually live out the fantasies you were too embarrassed to share.
“I thought about... this,” you say hesitantly.
“This? You thought about me fucking you here?”
“No...”
“You’re going to have to be more specific then, angel.”
“It was, um, in your bed.”
“You mean Mingyu’s bed.”
“I didn’t know that at the time,” you whine.
He smiles. “I know. You know, if you had just paid a little closer attention you would have realized he sounds nothing like me.”
“I was a little distracted at the time,” you whisper.
“Yeah? Distracted pretending it was you in those girls’ positions?”
You nod reluctantly.
“Poor baby,” he pouts, “must’ve been so jealous but so wet you just had to touch yourself, huh?”
You hate that he’s right. You hate that the condescension turns you on even more.
While he’s talking, Wonwoo snakes an arm behind you and grabs a condom from a jar on the counter. Did he and Mingyu just keep them out for guests like they were cotton swabs or something? Did they get laid that often?
He tears the foil packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom on as you watch and unconsciously spread your legs even wider for him.
“Ready?” he asks, holding your face with both hands.
It’s probably the first earnest interaction you’ve had with him. His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation and even when he finds none, he waits for you to answer.
“Go ahead.”
You keep your eyes trained on his face as he guides himself inside of you, watching the way his eyelashes flutter and his breath hitches when he feels the heat of you around him. He pushes himself in slowly but the stretch still knocks the wind out of you, leaving you gasping for air.
“Breathe, baby, breathe. You’re okay.”
You can hardly hear him over the roaring in your ears but you do your best to listen, chest heaving as you desperately try to anchor yourself to him.
Wonwoo doesn’t move until you urge him to by wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his hips with your thighs. It isn’t easy at first, despite how wet you are for him. He’s that huge.
You almost wish he wasn’t just because you don’t think it’s fair for any man’s ego to be warranted, especially one as big as his. Though you suppose it’s fitting.
After a few rough strokes, he starts to play with your clit again to get you to relax a little. It works, your eyes roll and your head falls back against the mirror as the tension eases from your muscles.
“Does it feel as good as you thought it would?” he presses.
“B-better,” you admit.
“That’s because it wasn’t me you were hearing.”
You groan, annoyed that he still hasn’t let it go. You doubt he ever will.
“It’s okay. I’ve thought about this too,” he confesses.
“You have?”
“Have you seen yourself?” he scoffs, “Don’t sound so surprised. I’d s-see you in the hallways, see the way you’d glare at me- fuck... who knew all this time you were right next door fantasizing about me while I fantasized about you. We could’ve been doing this so much sooner.”
You want to tell him that you have all the time in the world to make up for it now but you can’t find the words. They’ve dissolved on your tongue and left you with only his name to repeat over and over like you’re in a trance.
“Louder,” he pleads as fucks you even faster.
“But our neighbors-”
“Fuck them,” he spits. “They already hate us because of Mingyu, let them know my name too.”
Apparently you aren’t the only jealous one between the two of you. You want to laugh but you physically can’t, too caught up in the incandescent feeling in your stomach that threatens to engulf you entirely.
“Fuck, are you about to cum?” Wonwoo gasps, lips parting in concentration.
You nod. “Just a little more,” you beg, “yeah, exactly like that... oh fuck-”
“I’ve got you,” he assures you. “Let go, I’m right there with you.”
It’s surprisingly sweet of him and you think he might realize it too because he grabs your jaw and pulls you in to kiss you as you fall apart together so that he can’t say anything else.
Once you come down, he’s the first to start putting you both back together.
“Wanna actually take a shower now?” he asks, holding out a hand to help you down from the counter.
Your knees wobble on your landing but Wonwoo’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders wounded-soldier style and sit you on the closed lid of the toilet.
“Take your time,” he tells you, kneeling on the tile in front of you.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to stay the night? I mean you can hardly walk. There’s no way you’ll make it all the way home.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “All the way next door?”
“Exactly! It’s better not to risk it, right?”
You chuckle. “I guess.”
Wonwoo grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home myself in the morning. I’m a gentleman, after all. And then we can piss off your neighbors.”
Everyone knows Seungcheol flirts his way through life. You’ve brushed him off so many times it's practically routine. He never pushes, so you've always taken it as harmless fun -- until something shifts, and you realise he's not as simple as you've convinced yourself he is.
⇢ pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader
⇢ genre: fluff, angst, idiots to lovers
⇢ wc: approx. 10k
⇢ warnings: daycare worker reader, firefighter!cheol, alcohol consumption, mentions of fire, miscommunication, reader is a little mean 😭
⇢ a/n: this is well WELL overdue because of. many reasons. so thank you so so soo much to the hosts of this collab for being so kind and understanding w extensions. it’s been a loooong time since ive been able to write but im so glad this is finally going out into the world 💗
⇢ as part of the carat’s ridge collab hosted by @imnotshua @starlightkyeom @100vern
YOU’VE WORKED AT Little Pines for just under three years now, long enough that you don't flinch anymore when a four-year-old screams directly into your ear for reasons that will never be explained to you, long enough that you've got a favourite chair in the break room and a mug that says WORLD'S OKAYEST TEACHER that your coworker Jiwon got you as a joke two Christmases ago and that you now use every single day out of spite.
“You're doing the thing again,” Jiwon says, not looking up from where she's cutting a stack of construction paper into slightly uneven ovals that will eventually become, God willing, eggs.
“What thing?”
“You've been staring at the door since 7:40. It's currently 8:05. Taehyun's mom's going to walk through it any minute now and you're going to jump like she caught you doing something illegal.”
“I wasn't staring at the door.” You absolutely were staring at the door.
“Okay.“ Jiwon holds up an oval that's more of a rhombus. “Do these look like chicken eggs to you?”
“They look like abstract art.”
She sticks her tongue out at you. “Okay, well, they're chicken eggs.”
Across the room, Soyeon — who technically works the front desk and has no real business in the classroom during the day, but wanders in anyway whenever she's got a free ten minutes — is refereeing a dispute over a single yellow crayon that has somehow become the most coveted object in the building. Two kids stand on either side of her, red-faced and furious, both absolutely certain of their claim.
“I had it first.”
“I had it first first.”
“There's no such thing as first first,” Soyeon says, with the weary patience of someone who's negotiated with cranky four year olds before breakfast and will again after lunch. “There are, however, eleven other yellow crayons in that bin. I checked.”
Neither kid finds this persuasive. You've learned, over three years, that most classroom diplomacy comes down to waiting people out rather than winning any actual argument, and sure enough, within ninety seconds both of them have abandoned the crayon entirely in favor of a much more interesting pile of dolls in the corner. Soyeon catches your eye over their heads and mouths good luck, and you give her a thumbs up you don't entirely feel yet as she disappears back to the office.
The door opens. It's Taehyun's mother, harried and talking rapidly about a meeting she's clearly already late for, depositing her son and his bag and a granola bar all in one motion before disappearing again in a cloud of strong perfume. Taehyun toddles toward the block corner without acknowledging either of you, which is, frankly, the daycare equivalent of a warm greeting.
You've got four kids in by 8:15, seven by 8:30, and by nine the whole room has that low hum of chaos that means the day's properly begun — someone building a tower, someone destroying a tower, someone crying about the tower's destruction with a passion. Chaewon, three going on forty, sits very seriously at the reading corner turning the pages of a picture book upside down and narrating it with complete confidence.
“That's not what it says,” you tell her, crouching down.
“I know,“ Chaewon says. “I made it better.”
You don't have a response to that, so you let her keep going.
By ten you've got the whole room moving through the usual currents — circle time, then centres, then the slow inevitable descent into midday crankiness over minor grievances that means it's almost snack time. You hand out orange slices and listen to a passionate, incoherent argument between two five-year-olds about whether dogs could, in principle, become doctors, a debate that resolves itself only when someone knocks over the entire bin of blocks and both parties get called away to help clean it up, already having forgotten what they were arguing about in the first place.
This is the shape of your days, mostly. Small disasters, smaller triumphs, a lot of glitter you'll find in your hair for a week afterward. You do like it — the specific way you like something you didn't expect to love. You'd taken the job out of necessity two summers after a psychology degree that hadn't led anywhere near where you'd planned it would; you'd pictured a clinic, or a research post, or at the very least something with your name on a door, not a room full of glue sticks and orange peels. But somewhere in the middle of your first year you'd looked up from tying somebody's shoe and realised you weren't counting down to anything anymore. You like the kids, you like listening to their absolutely nonsensical debates, and okay, maybe the tantrums aren’t exactly a plus, but when they hand you a badly coloured apple or give the sweetest compliments about your outfit on any given day, your whole heart melts. You think about it sometimes — grad school, or moving away, but never with any real intensity. It could happen, someday, but for now, you’re happy exactly where you are.
Sunday dinner at your mom's is a fixed institution, always at the same table, same mismatched chairs, same argument, most weeks, about whether the good tablecloth is really necessary for a meal that will inevitably involve your younger sister spilling something on it. Agreeing to dinner once a week was one of your mother’s few stipulations when you decided to move out. And now Yuna's twenty-two and home for the summer between the end of her graphic design degree in another city and the beginning of whatever comes next, and she's currently interrogating you about your love life with the particular shamelessness only a younger sibling can manage.
“So nothing's happening with anyone,” she says, not a question.
You roll your eyes. “Correct.”
“Nothing at all. Zero activity.”
“I have a very rich inner life, Yuna, it doesn't all have to be romantic. Hobbies. Friends.”
“I didn't ask about your inner life, I asked if you're seeing anyone.“ Yuna reaches across the table for the rice without asking, which your mother allows only from her, a fact that has been a point of argument for roughly twenty years. “You have like, two friends anyway.”
Unfortunately, your younger sister is entirely correct.
“I saw that lovely Choi boy last week, actually,” your mom says, entirely too casual about it, spooning more food onto your plate — which is her way of forcing you to stay in your seat. “He asked how you were doing. Very polite about it. He's always been polite, hasn’t he?”
You scoff. “He's flirting with the whole town, Mom, that's just what he does.”
“Mm,“ your mother says, which is not agreement, and also not disagreement, and is in fact the single most infuriating sound a mother can make. “He's been doing it a long time, though, hasn't he? Since you two were teenagers.”
“He asked her to proooom,” Yuna chips in, sing-song, and you promptly kick her under the table. “Ow! Mom!”
“That doesn't mean anything,” you say, over Yuna’s complaint.
“I didn't say it meant anything.” Your mother says it lightly, the way she says most things she actually means incredibly pointedly, a skill you're fairly sure you inherited directly from her and have spent years turning against her at this exact table. “I just think it's interesting that a man can ask about a woman for ten years and it doesn't mean anything, and a woman can turn him down for ten years and that doesn't mean anything either. Sounds like a lot of nothing happening for a very long time.”
“Can we talk about literally anything else,” you groan, rubbing a hand over your eyes. “In fact! We can talk about how Yuna still hasn't found a job,” you offer, and Yuna kicks you back under the table hard enough that you yelp, and your mother laughs, and the conversation moves on, mercifully, to safer ground — Yuna's job search, the neighbour's renovation, whether it's finally time to replace the good tablecloth — but you catch your mom looking at you once more over the course of the meal with an expression you don't examine too closely.
Here's the truth of it, if you're being honest, which you try not to be too often on this particular subject: Seungcheol's been flirting with you since roughly the ninth grade, in the low-grade, no-stakes way he’s never grown out of. But he also flirts with the guy at the post office. He flirts with Ms. Oh, who's sixty-one and unmarried and thinks he's a delight. He flirts with the bartender at the one good bar in town, who's engaged and finds it hilarious. It's not a thing you take personally, mostly, because it so clearly isn't personal — it's just the way it is with him, constant.
Except it's always felt a little more personal directed at you, and you've spent a lot of energy over the years making sure it never gets anywhere near landing.
You remember the prom thing specifically, with a clarity that time hasn't done much to soften — him leaning against your locker two weeks before, hands in his pockets, asking with a shrug that was trying so hard to look like it didn't matter, and you turning him down before he'd even finished the sentence, because Kim Daeun had told you the week before that he'd asked three other girls the exact same way, and you weren't about to be a fourth. You'd found out later that wasn't true, that you'd actually been the only one he'd asked, but by then the pattern was already set, the reflex already built, and reflexes, you've learned, are a lot harder to unlearn than they are to learn in the first place. He hadn't argued, hadn't sulked, had just said “your loss” and grinned and gone off to ask someone else's opinion on which tie to wear instead, and you remember watching him walk away and feeling, underneath the relief, something that took you another decade to correctly identify as disappointment.
There was something else, too, that came later, and you think about it more than you'd like to admit, because by then you weren't the same girl who'd turned him down at a locker. You were two years into a psychology degree, home for a fortnight over the winter break, feeling like a slightly different person in your own hometown, the way you always did those first few days back, still half in seminar-mode, still analysing everything, including, apparently, yourself. You'd been walking back from your mum's when the sky opened properly, no warning, the kind of rain that soaks through in under a minute, and a car had pulled up alongside you with its window already rolling down before you'd even registered whose it was. Seungcheol in his brother's beat-up sedan, hair already damp from getting out to jog around and open the passenger door for you before you could say anything.
“Get in,” he'd said, entirely reasonable, entirely obvious, and you'd stood there on the curb, drenched, freezing, genuinely unable to think of a single sensible reason to say no, and said no anyway. You'd told him you didn't mind the walk, which was a lie so transparent you'd half expected him to call it, and he hadn't, had just looked at you for a second too long, rain running down from his long fringe onto his cheeks, before he'd said, “Alright,” and driven off slowly.
You'd spent the rest of that walk soaked through and furious with yourself in a way you didn't have language for yet, turning it over with the same detached, clinical curiosity you were being trained to turn on everything else that year — why did you say no, what did you think accepting would cost you — and never quite landing on an answer you liked. You remember thinking, absurdly, that you'd learned more about avoidant attachment that semester than you'd ever wanted to know, and that none of it had stopped you doing exactly what the textbook said you would.
You remember the coffee, more recently, and the movie, and the wedding — Soonyoung's cousin's wedding, the one he'd asked you to as a plus-one with an actual paper invitation he'd apparently gone to the trouble of getting an extra copy of, which you'd found both sweet and alarming in equal measure and you had turned down within about four seconds of seeing it, before you could think too hard about why your hands had gone a little unsteady holding it.
You expect it now. Seungcheol borderline flirts every time he sees you; occasionally he pushes his luck and asks you out, with enough time in between that you can’t call him insistent.
Each time, you refuse it with the specific lightness of someone slamming a door gently enough that it doesn't look like she's slamming it. And each time he's taken it exactly the way he takes everything — with a grin, a shrug, a “your loss” tossed over his shoulder as he walks away completely unbothered, already on to the next joke, the next call, the next whatever.
So you do the same — you don't examine it. You put it in the same drawer where you keep most things you don't want to look at directly, close it, and go back to your life.
The same week you have that pointed dinner with your mom, you see him at the grocery store — or rather, he sees you. It's a Wednesday, nothing special about it, and you're standing in the cereal aisle trying to decide whether you actually need a box of the good granola or whether that's just a symptom of grocery shopping hungry, when a voice behind you says, “You're gonna want the other kind.”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, not even bothering to turn around. “I didn’t ask you, Seungcheol.”
“You didn't have to. You've been standing there for a full minute looking at that box.” Seungcheol's got a basket hooked over one arm, and the basket, when you glance at it, contains a box of protein bars, a carton of orange juice (with pulp, which, ew), and a single lime, which tells you absolutely nothing about what he's planning to cook tonight. “The one with the honey clusters. Trust me.”
“I don't take grocery advice from a man whose entire cart is a lime and protein bars.”
“It's a basket, not a cart, and I resent the implication that I don’t know how to grocery shop.” He leans against the shelf, unbothered, like he's got nowhere else to be — which, this being a Wednesday evening and him apparently off shift, he probably doesn't. “You still owe me an answer on Seokmin’s barbecue thing, by the way.”
“That was two years ago, Seungcheol.”
“I have a long memory.”
“You have a selective memory. You don't remember owing Soonyoung forty dollars, but you remember a barbecue invitation from two summers ago.”
“Different category of memory. One's debt. The other's an open wound.” He says it with a hand pressed dramatically to his chest, grinning, and you roll your eyes and put the honey clusters in your cart anyway, which he looks entirely too pleased about.
“Don't,” you say.
“Didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say I'm always right about cereal, but sure, put words in my mouth.“ He falls into step beside you as you push toward the dairy section, not because he needs anything there, you're fairly sure, but because this is also just how it goes, has gone, for as long as you can remember: running into each other in the produce aisle or outside the post office or at the one gas station, falling into the same easy rhythm you've had since you were teenagers — like the conversation never really stops, just pauses between sightings. “How's the daycare? Still winning?”
“Every day's a battle, but yes.”
“You could come to Seokmin’s barbecue this year. Renewing my invitation.”
“I'll think about it,” you say, which is what you always say, and he laughs like he already knows what that means, because he does, because you've been having some version of this exact exchange for the better part of a decade — him asking, lightly, for something, you deflecting, lightly, in return. Neither of you ever quite landing anywhere, both of you apparently fine with that. You part ways at the register, him with his lime and his orange juice and his protein bars, you with a cart full of things that will mostly go uneaten, and you don't think about it again until you're halfway through unpacking your groceries at home and realise you're smiling for no reason you can name.
It isn't all banter, though, and it would be doing the whole thing a disservice to pretend it is. There's a version of you two that has nothing to do with the game at all, that surfaces every so often, and you think about one particular evening more than you'd probably admit to anyone, including yourself.
You'd run into him at the diner on the edge of town, the one that's open too late and serves coffee that's either too strong or too watery. He'd been alone in a booth looking like a man who'd had a longer day than usual, sleeves shoved up, staring at a mug he wasn't drinking from. You'd almost kept walking.
“You look like you got hit by that truck of yours,”you'd said, sliding into the booth across from him without being invited, and his look of surprise when he saw you mirrored exactly how you’d felt at your own actions.
“Feels about right.” He hadn't tried to make a joke of it, which was how you knew it was serious. Seungcheol without a joke ready was rare. “There was a house fire. We got everyone out,” he adds quickly, “It’s just — the house. It’s fucked up. Like, it was a couple and their kids, and their dog, and they were — you know. Gutted. Crying and shit. The kids, especially.”
You hadn't said anything clever, because there wasn't anything clever to say, and you'd known enough not to try, from years of watching adults fumble around children in crisis and from a psychology degree that had, in fact, occasionally been useful.
“You did everything you could,” you'd said eventually, quiet, as he rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I know that's going to sound like nothing to you right now, but it’s true.”
He'd looked up at you properly then, something unguarded in his face that had nothing to do with flirting, nothing to do with the bit — just a kind of tired gratitude that made you want to reach across the table and grab his hand. “They teach you that in your psych degree or what?” he'd asked, attempting for a smile.
You mirror the smile, with a small shrug of your own. “Turns out it's good for something besides making me insufferable at dinner parties.”
That had got a real laugh out of him, short and surprised, and the two of you had sat there for another hour talking about nothing that mattered and everything that did — his brother, your sister,the particular dread of watching a four-year-old take a deep breath right before they’re about to scream the place down. He'd asked you, at one point, about college and your degree — he’d never been to college, of course, and he’d listened to the whole thing like it was the most interesting thing anyone had said to him all week.
You remember thinking, driving home that night, that you liked him best like this, unshowy, unarmoured, asking real questions and actually waiting for the answers — and you remember being immediately furious with yourself for thinking it, and filing the whole evening away in the same drawer as everything else.
Minji's been your friend since third grade, and she's the one person you still talk to who's known you both — you and Seungcheol — long enough to have a real opinion on the whole situation, which she airs freely and often. Today it's as she’s doing her nails, a shade of red she's had you hold the bottle for while she does the other hand, sitting cross-legged on her grandmother's back porch with two iced coffees sweating rings onto the railing between you.
“I saw Seungcheol at the gas station Tuesday,” Minji says without preamble, not looking up from her hand. “He asked if I'd talked to you lately. Very smooth about it. Very casual.“
“He's like that with—”
“If you say 'he's like that with everyone' I'm going to put this nail polish in your hair.“ She caps the bottle, finally looks at you, and there's none of your mother's careful lightness in it, just Minji's usual bluntness, worn soft by nearly twenty years of friendship. “I've watched this specific bit for ten years. I watched it in high school, I watched it through your entire early twenties,and at some point, as your best friend, I have to ask: what exactly are you so afraid of?”
You don’t answer straight away, dropping your gaze to the coffee. You take a sip, fiddle with the straw between your teeth before you sigh, tilt your head back towards the clouds. “He’s not serious. It’s like a game to him.”
“Did someone tell you that or are you just making up your own conclusions?” She arches a perfectly shaped brow. “It’s been years, ___.”
“Yeah, years of playful flirting. There’s literally nothing serious behind it — I turn him down and he laughs, Minji. It’s a joke. We both know it’s a joke.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s been stuck on you since high school, and you’re too scared of yourself to even give him a chance.”
She always knows how to hit where it hurts, exactly when you need to be hit. Your mouth opens for a second, and then closes as you flounder for something to say. “He’s not stuck on me,” you say finally. “Seriously. We’ve both dated other people, in high school and after.”
“Don’t be purposefully obtuse, you know what I mean. He likes you.”
“Well, he’s never actually said that!”
“Purposefully. Obtuse.” She pokes your forehead after each word. “What are you protecting yourself from here?”
You close your mouth, silenced and sulking about it.
“Because it's not him,” she continues. “He'd catch you. He's been standing there with his arms out for a decade.”
“It's not that simple.”
“It's exactly that simple, you've just made it complicated on purpose because complicated is easier to dismiss than simple.“ She blows on her nails. “He likes you. You like him. It’s the simplest fucking thing ever.”
You don’t say anything, just scowl and sip your coffee. Your best friend is harsh on the best of days, and usually you like it — today, she’s said everything you don’t want to hear.
“Anyway. How's Chaewon? Is she still doing her pirate princess story?”
“She's added a supervillain.”
“Of course she has.” Minji grins, and the conversation slides, mercifully, sideways — into Minji's own things, a promotion she's up for, a guy she's seeing who she's not sure about — and you're grateful for it, for the reminder that your life has edges that don't touch Seungcheol at all, whole rooms of it that are just yours, just Minji's, just the ordinary unremarkable texture of having a friend since you were eight years old. But underneath the rest of the afternoon, everything Minji said keeps surfacing, quiet and insistently plaguing your thoughts.
It's a Tuesday, unremarkable in every way, when Ms. Oh — who owns and runs Little Pines — gathers the staff in the break room after the kids have gone home to go over the calendar for the next month.
“Also,“ she says, near the end, flipping a laminated sheet, “Fire Safety Day's the fourteenth. The station's sending a few of the firemen out to do the usual — stop, drop, roll, let the kids sit in the truck, the whole bit.”
“Cute,“ Soyeon says, refilling her coffee. “The kids’ll love it.”
“Who's coming?” Jiwon asks, because Jiwon asks things you'd rather she didn't, and you’re pretty sure she has a crush on one of Seungcheol’s coworkers, Wonwoo.
“Didn't say. Whoever's on rotation, I'd assume.” Ms. Oh moves on to the field trip permission slips, and you let out a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, and tell yourself, very firmly, that it doesn't matter who's coming. It's a fire station. There are, by your count, eleven firefighters in this town. The odds are fine. The odds are completely fine.
You avoid thinking about Choi Seungcheol for the rest of the day. Which is to say, you think about him constantly for the rest of the day.
The morning of the fourteenth arrives, and the kids are beyond excited. They’ve talking about it for a week — Chaewon's drawn what she insists is a fire truck and what everyone else agrees looks more like a very angry snail, and Taehyun's informed you three separate times, with the grave authority of a man delivering breaking news, that firemen have “actual axes.” You've got the kids lined up in the yard by ten, sunscreen reapplied, hats on, when the truck rolls up the gravel drive with the low satisfying rumble that makes every single child under the age of six lose their entire mind at once.
You see him before the truck's even fully stopped. Of course you do. He's hanging half out of the passenger side before it brakes, waving at the kids (who are adorably excited), and something in your chest does the thing it always does — a small, private, entirely inconvenient drop, like missing a stair in the dark.
Choi Seungcheol climbs down in his full gear, helmet under one arm, and crouches immediately to be at eye level with a cluster of four- and five-year-olds who are looking at him like he's personally invented fire trucks. “Who wants to sit in the driver's seat?” he sings, and the resulting scream from twelve small children could probably be heard three towns over.
He's good at this. You'll give him that, freely, the way you give him most things freely except the one thing he actually asks for. He crouches and jokes and lets Chaewon try on his helmet, which swallows her entire head, and gets down on the ground to show a rapt little semicircle of children how the hose attaches, and doesn't once break character even when Taehyun asks him, with total sincerity, whether he's ever fought a dragon. (“Couple times,” Seungcheol says. “Rough guys, dragons. Mostly it's the smoke.”)
The other two firefighters who've come with him, an older woman named Yerin and Soonyoung, who you’d also gone to high school with, do their parts fine, competent and pleasant and funny, but the kids gravitate to Seungcheol easily and instinctively.
You've managed, for a solid twenty minutes, to stay on the opposite side of the gaggle of kids, ostensibly ensuring Beomgyu keeps his hat on. It doesn't last. Around the time the kids are being herded toward the truck to take turns sitting behind the wheel, he peels off from the group and ambles over, helmet tucked under his arm, looking entirely too good for someone who's just spent twenty minutes being climbed on by preschoolers.
“You've got glitter on your face,” he says, by way of hello.
“I always have glitter on my face. It's basically work uniform at this point.”
“It's a good look on you.” He says it easily, the same way he says everything, but his eyes do a quick pass over you before landing back on your face with that brief dimpled smile, and you hate — hate — the small flicker of warmth that swells in your stomach.
“You didn't have to come,” you say, which isn't true, since he clearly did have to come, it's his job, but it's the fastest thing you can think to say that isn't I hoped you wouldn't and also knew you would.
“Somebody's gotta protect this town's youth from the dangers of unattended candles,“ he says solemnly. “It's a calling.“
“Right. Noble.” You pause. “They’re four, by the way.”
“Extremely noble. You should be nicer to me. I'm basically a public servant.”
“I'm always nice to you.”
“You're the meanest person I know,“ he says, delighted, “and I mean that as a compliment to your commitment.”
“Anyway,” he says, looking over to the truck. “The kids are gonna want to come to the station. We usually do that — let them see where the trucks live and everything. I can set it up with your boss if that's alright with you.”
“Sure,” you say, half-listening, half-watching the kids. You’re pretty sure Beomgyu and Yeonjun are going to trip, chasing each other like that. “Whatever's easiest.”
“You'll come too, right? Chaperone duty?”
“That's generally how field trips work, yes.”
“Good.” He says it satisfied, like it matters, and for just a second something honest surfaces under the joking — you catch it before he tucks it away again, the way you sometimes do, a flash of something steadier than the bit usually allows.
And then, before you can examine that, Chaewon comes sprinting over demanding to know if the truck can go faster than a police car, and he's gone again, crouched down explaining horsepower to a three-year-old with the same total sincerity he used on the dragon question, and you stand there for a second longer than you mean to, watching him, before you make yourself go help Yerin with the hose demonstration instead.
By the time the truck pulls away an hour later, every single kid in the yard is talking about the fire station visit like it's the moon landing. You've got a feeling you won't hear the end of it for a while.
You don't hear the end of it for a while.
For the better part of two weeks, the fire station visit's the single principle of every conversation the four-year-olds have. Taehyun draws the truck again, several times, with increasing and alarming detail about the axes. Chaewon stages an elaborate reenactment during free play in which she plays “the fireman” and assigns you the role of “the person who has to be saved,” which you accept with as much dignity as you can muster while lying on the carpet pretending to be unconscious as a group of kids tug at your legs. Jiwon, of course, finds the whole thing extremely funny.
The days have a way of absorbing whatever's going on with you and continuing regardless, which is, most of the time, a mercy. Circle time happens. Snack time happens. A minor crisis occurs when it's discovered that the class hamster, Mr. Biscuit, has gotten loose sometime overnight, and he's eventually located, after forty tense minutes and one very dramatic search party. Chaewon had refused to take part in said search party, and had instead spent the entire time in the reading corner, insisting Mr. Biscuit would “come back when he was ready,” which, infuriatingly, turns out to be correct.
You also go back to your evenings, which have nothing to do with any of it — a phone call with Yuna where she vents about her job search, an afternoon spent helping Minji repaint her spare room, a Sunday at your mom's where the subject of Seungcheol does not come up even once, a small mercy you're grateful for and slightly suspicious of. Life, in other words, keeps being a whole life, most of which has nothing to do with him at all, which is the thing you keep having to remind yourself of whenever it starts to feel otherwise.
Friday nights, when you're not too wrecked from the week, you go to the bar with Minji and Jimin and a few other friends, because it's the only bar in town worth it. It's not a big fancy place, with its low light, jukebox, and pool table with a wobble in one of the left legs, but it’s the only place to go, really, unless you want to make the drive into the city.
Minji drags you along after a week of promotion nerves and you go willingly enough. The place is familiar enough to be comfortable even after the tiring week you’ve had, but you’re not really looking to drink too much tonight.
You've had a few sips of a cocktail by the time the door opens and a loud group of off-duty firefighters spills in, mid-laugh, and naturally, Seungcheol's in the middle of it. He’s saying something that's got Soonyoung doubled over, and you feel the familiar lurch of oh, here we go before you've even fully processed that he's clocked you across the room.
“Oh, this'll be good,” Minji murmurs into her drink, and you kick her under the table, which only makes her grin wider.
You run into him often, at this bar, so seeing him isn’t really a surprise in itself. He grins at you as he and his friends make their way first to the pool table, and you return the gesture with an awkward nod, and somehow almost drop your drink in the process.
It’s maybe forty five minutes later that he actually comes over to you. He always does, at least once when you run into each other like this, always comes to say hi, which usually leads into some kind of line.
He waves Dohyun, the bartender, over and orders a whiskey on the rocks, and for a while you just talk, as the ice in his drink melts. Easy, unimportant things, the kind of conversation that happens naturally between two people who've known each other long enough that silence isn't awkward, just comfortable. He tells you about a call they had that week, a cat stuck in a drainpipe that took forty-five minutes and drew a crowd. You tell him about Chaewon's ongoing crusade against the concept of naptime, which makes him laugh so hard he has to put his drink down, not that he’s drank much of it. Somewhere in there Minji peels off to go play pool with Jiwon and Soonyoung, throwing you one loaded look over her shoulder on the way that you very deliberately ignore.
Somehow, the two of you have drifted from the bar itself to a booth in the back corner, and Jiwon's gone home with a wave you barely registered, and Minji's deep in a game of pool she's losing badly and loudly to Soonyoung, and you're sitting closer to him than you were an hour ago without being able to say exactly when that happened. He's telling you something about his brother’s wedding, some story about a groomsman and a dropped ring you're only half following because you've gotten distracted by the way he laughs at his own joke before he even finishes it, the way his hand's landed, at some point, loosely on the back of the booth behind your shoulders, close enough that you can feel the warmth of it without him actually touching you.
“You're not listening,” he says, not offended, just observing.
“I'm listening.”
“What'd I just say?”
“Something about a ring.“
“Close enough.“ He's looking at you in a way that feels different from the usual — like he's forgotten, for a second, to be charming about it. “You've got that look.“
“What look?”
“You’re totally zoning out. That look.”
You snort, aiming for humour. “I'm always zoning out around you.“
“I know,” he says, and there's something in his voice, something almost fond and almost sad at once, so much that it makes your levity fall flat and for a moment neither of you says anything at all. Then he smiles, “You always zone out anyway, though. I remember from school.”
“Please.”
“It’s true! I remember it happening in history class and Miss Lee had to snap her fingers in front of your face!”
Heat crawls up your face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember that! That was in my first week, too, I nearly cried.”
“I remember,” he smiles. “Everyone was talking about the new girl who just moved to town and that was the first time I saw you.”
It's strange, the way ten years can gather themselves into a single quiet second like that — all of it sitting there in the space between his face and yours, close enough now that you can count his eyelashes if you wanted to, which you don't let yourself do, except you do anyway. You think, distantly, of Minji on the porch — he's been standing there with his arms out for a decade — and your mother at the dinner table — sounds like a lot of nothing happening for a very long time — and something in you that's held itself very carefully closed for a very long time simply, without your permission, stops holding.
He leans in, slow enough that you have every opportunity to move. You don't take it.
The kiss, when it happens, isn't clumsy at all, not at first — it's slow, almost unbearably so, like he's been waiting so long for it he's decided to actually take his time now that he's got it, one hand coming up to your jaw so lightly it's almost a question, and you answer it by leaning further in, by letting your hand find the front of his shirt and hold on, and you kiss him back like you mean it, because you do. Then his other hand finds your waist and yours finds the back of his neck and the two of you shift closer in the booth and it turns into something hungrier, less careful.
Somewhere in the bar, distantly, you hear Minji whoop, and you don't even have it in you to be embarrassed.
Then your brain catches up with the rest of you, the way it always eventually does, and you pull back, breathing hard like you've run somewhere. Seungcheol looks a little wrecked, the same way you feel, his hair mussed and his lips a little swollen, and you guess you must look something similar.
“I—” you start, and don't finish, because you don't actually know what comes next.
“Hey,” he says, low, steady, not moving away, his thumb still resting at your jaw like he’s catching up to the fact that you're pulling out of it. “It's okay, just — ”
“I shouldn't have — ” You're already reaching for your bag, your keys, anything to hold onto that isn't him. “I think I had too much to drink.“
“You didn’t even finish your cocktail,” he says, and he's not smiling now, which is somehow worse than if he had been. “Can we just — talk for a second? I've been wanting to say something for a while, and I know the timing's not— ”
“Cheol, I’m sorry — I — I really think I should go,” you’re fumbling with your bag and your words at the same time.
“I'm not trying to freak you out.” He says it gently, both hands visible now, like he's talking someone down off a ledge, which, you suppose, isn't entirely inaccurate. And his voice speeds up a little, because you’re still gathering your things and avoiding his gaze and it’s his turn to trip over his words: “I just — I like you. Like, actually. I know it's always been the bit, with us, and that's fine, that's — I get why. But I'm not messing around right now. I want you to know that. Can we just talk for a se—?” And he cuts himself off, because you’re standing up.
It's the most honest he's ever been with you, stripped clean of the performance, and it terrifies you in a way you don't have language for at eleven-thirty on a Friday with your pulse still loud in your ears. “Please,” he says, softly, so softly, and his hand brushes against yours, feather-soft. You make the mistake of looking, and he’s gazing up at you from the booth, his eyes pleading and brown and warm and serious.
“I have work in the morning,“ you say, which is a lie, and you both know it's a lie, it’s a fuckin Saturday, but he lets you have it anyway, some tired resignation moving through his face.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay. Get home safe.”
Minji catches you by the door, pool cue still in hand, all the teasing gone out of her face the second she sees yours. “Hey,” she says, softer than you've heard her all night. “You good?”
“I don't know,” you say honestly, and she doesn't push, just squeezes your arm once and tells you she'll call a cab for both of you, and you let her, grateful, not for the first time, that she's known you long enough to know exactly when not to push.
You don't remember much of the ride home. Your hands are shaking slightly as you find your keys at your own front door, and you don't look back toward the bar even once, and you lie awake for a long time afterward turning the whole thing over and over in your head like a stone you can't put down, unable to decide which part scares you more — that he said it, or that some traitorous, long-buried part of you wanted to say something back.
You don't see him again for eleven days, which you know because you count, which you're furious with yourself for doing.
Life continues in the meantime, because it does that, indifferent to the small personal catastrophes you're nursing. There are snacks to portion out and scraped knees to bandage and an entire day on the letter Q that takes far longer than it has any right to. Chaewon's fireman reenactments continue unabated, blessedly innocent of the fact that you now flinch slightly every time she mentions the word. Jiwon notices you're off but, for once, has the mercy not to push, which you appreciate more than you tell her.
Sunday dinner happens in the middle of the eleven days, and you spend most of it pushing rice around your plate while your mother and Yuna talk around you, until your mother, halfway through clearing the table, pauses behind your chair and rests a hand briefly on your shoulder. Not asking anything, just letting you know she's noticed, which somehow makes it harder to hold together than if she'd asked directly. Minji calls twice and you let both calls go to voicemail, not because you don't want to talk to her but because you know exactly what she'll say, and you're not ready yet to hear it out loud, even though some louder part of you already knows she'd be right.
The field trip to the fire station is scheduled for the Thursday of that second week, and you've spent a genuinely humiliating amount of effort trying to get out of it. You ask Jiwon, with what you hope is believable casualness, if there’s any possible way Ms Oh would let you skip it and take a parent chaperone instead. She looks at you like you've suggested trading a kidney.
“Absolutely not. Do you know Ms Oh? No. You're going.”
You haven't been able to think of a version of the truth small enough to hand her, so you let it drop, and here you are on Thursday morning, herding twelve overexcited kids onto a rented minibus with the specific dread of someone walking toward a conversation she's been dodging for a week and a half.
The station's a squat brick building on the edge of downtown, garage doors up, two trucks gleaming in the shade, and the kids lose their minds the second the bus door opens. You busy yourself with headcounts and hand-holding, buying yourself as much time as you reasonably can before you have to actually look at him.
When you do, it isn't what you expect, and somehow that's worse.
Seungcheol is polite. That's the word for it, the only word, and it lands like a slap precisely because it's so foreign coming from him. He greets the kids with the same warmth as before — you'll give him that, he never once lets it touch them — crouching down, letting them climb the truck, patiently explaining the same things he explained a month ago in the daycare yard.
There's one second, early on, when he glances up and catches your eye across the garage and something almost warm flickers there on instinct, old habit, ten years of muscle memory — before he seems to remember, visibly, and shuts it down, his face resetting into something careful before he looks away again. You watch it happen and wish, immediately, that you hadn't seen it. But mostly, for the rest of the hour, there's none of the usual spark in his eyes when they pass over you, none of the teasing, none of the warmth that's always, always been there even when you were actively trying to shut it down. He nods at you once, says “morning,“ in a tone you've never heard him use on you before and then turns his attention fully to the kids and doesn't look at you again for the better part of an hour.
It should be a relief. Instead, it fucking stings.
Yerin gives the group tour of the trucks. Soonyoung lets three kids at a time try on a real helmet. Seungcheol does his part competently, kindly, and entirely at arm's length from you, and when the visit wraps up and the kids are being herded back toward the bus in a loose, sunscreen-smelling parade, you find yourself hanging back at the garage door while Jiwon does the headcount, because you can't make yourself walk away without saying something, even though you have no idea what the something is.
“Hey,” you say, inadequately.
He's coiling a length of hose that doesn't especially need coiling. “Hey,” he says, not looking up. “Kids have a good time?”
“They loved it. You're good with them.”
“Yeah, well.” He sets the hose down, finally looks at you, and his face is doing the thing it's been doing all morning — pleasant and closed-off.
“Seungcheol—”
“You should get back to the bus,” he says, not unkindly, which somehow makes it land harder than if he'd been sharp about it. “Don't want to lose a kid on my watch.”
It's a joke, technically, the shape of one, but it comes out flat, missing the thing that always makes his jokes land — that easy, unbothered warmth. You realise, standing there in the wide mouth of the garage with the smell of diesel and rubber hose around you, that you've finally managed it.
“Okay,” you say, because you can't think of anything else, and you turn and walk back to the bus, and don't let yourself look back at the garage until you're sure the kids can't see your face. You spend the entire drive back with a thick lump in your throat and something burning behind your eyes.
You don't sleep well that night, or the two after it. Your brain keeps circling back to the same three minutes in a garage no matter what you try to distract it with. You go through the motions of your days competently enough — nobody at Little Pines seems to notice anything beyond your slightly quieter mood, which you blame on being tired — but underneath the surface you're doing the thing you've always been careful never to do where he's concerned: you're actually thinking about it.
You skip Friday at the bar that week, and the one after, telling Jiwon and Soyeon you're just tired, which is half true. Minji shows up at your apartment uninvited the same night with a bag of takeout and an expression that says she's done waiting for you to call her back, and you let her in because you don't have it in you to pretend anymore, not to her.
“Okay,” Minji says, setting the containers out on your coffee table like she's settling in for a long negotiation, which, you suspect, she is. “Talk. All of it. I already know something happened at the bar, I was there for the whoop-worthy part, I just don't know the rest.”
So you tell her. All of it — the kiss, what he said after, the eleven days, the garage, the way his face had gone so carefully closed you almost hadn't recognised him. Minji listens without interrupting, which for Minji is its own kind of remarkable, and when you finally run out of words she doesn't say I told you so, which you'd braced for, and which you almost wish she had, because instead she just looks at you, steady and a little sad on your behalf, and says, “You know what you have to do.”
“I know what I have to do.”
“So why haven't you done it yet.”
“Because I've never actually done this before,” you admit, and it's the truest thing you've said out loud in two weeks. “Turning him down, that I know how to do. That's years of practice. I don't know how to do the other thing.“
“Nobody knows how to do the other thing,” Minji says, not unkindly. “You just do it anyway.”
You think about the ten years of it, after she leaves, sitting alone with the takeout containers cooling on your table — the prom, the rain, the coffee you never got, the wedding you didn't go to as anyone's plus-one, every single time you took the easy warm shape of his affection and handed it back to him like something you couldn't use.
You think about how none of it ever once made him flinch, how you told yourself that meant it didn't matter to him, when really (you can see it now, uncomfortably clearly) it probably meant the opposite. It meant he’d turned the flirting into a joke on purpose, so a no from you never actually cost him anything. But then — keeping it up, over and over, for years, because some idiotic, hopeful part of him had apparently decided you were worth that particular patience.
And you'd spent that same decade telling yourself it was nothing more than a bit, because the alternative — that it wasn't nothing, that it never had been, and that you might actually want it back — was a door you weren't ready to open.
By Sunday you’ve waded into your thoughts deep enough that you can't ignore it anymore. You sit on your kitchen counter with a cup of tea you're not drinking and you make yourself actually look at the thing you've kept in the drawer for ten years, and what you find, when you finally look, isn't complicated at all. It never was. You'd just been very good at making it look that way.
It occurs to you, sitting there with your tea going cold, that obviously, you’ve dated other people since the ninth grade, even been serious with one or two, and none of them ever tied you up in knots the way this has.
It’s not that they mattered less. It’s that none of them were Choi Seungcheol, who’d been the easiest person in your entire year to like, who’d had half the school a little bit in love with him since he was fifteen, and you’d been so sure back then that a boy like that leaning against your locker was a joke because the alternative — that he meant it, about you, specifically — just didn’t make sense.
It had been simpler, safer, to decide it was just Seungcheol being Seungcheol, the same warmth he handed out to the woman at the post office and the bartender at and anyone else unlucky enough to be standing in front of him, and to file yourself in with all of them instead of letting yourself be the one exception.
You call Jiwon, because you've run out of ways to have the conversation only with yourself, and because Minji's already said her piece and you want, this once, a second voice saying the same thing back to you before you trust it.
“Okay,” Jiwon says, once you've gotten through the whole thing, sitting cross-legged on your kitchen floor with your phone on speaker and a second cup of tea gone cold beside you. “So let me get this straight. You've liked him since — what, ninth grade?”
“I didn't say I liked him since ninth grade.”
“You basically said that.”
“I said I'd been turning him down since ninth grade, that's a different thing. I think it started as something silly. I haven’t been, you know, pining around for him for a decade straight, and neither has he.”
You can hear her moving around her own kitchen, a cupboard opening and closing. “Yeah, well. It seems like he’s been waiting for a chance for a decade, though.”
You don’t have anything to say to that. Jiwon continues anyway, so you don’t have a chance. “I genuinely thought you two just had a bit going. A little routine. I didn't realise that it was unresolved feelings the entire time, and I consider myself a fairly perceptive person, so, congratulations, you've out-repressed even me.”
“That's not a compliment.”
“It's not not a compliment.” A pause. “You're going to go find him, right? Not just think about it for another week.”
Your nose scrunches. “I might.”
“Don't. Go tonight. Or tomorrow. Just — don't let this be a thing you circle for another decade, you've circled it long enough.”
You laugh, the first real laugh you've managed in days, and it loosens something in your chest that's been sitting there, tight and small, since the fire station garage. “Tomorrow,” you say. “I'll go tomorrow.”
“Good. And tell me everything after. I mean everything.”
“I'm not going to tell you everything.“
“You're going to tell me everything,” Jiwon says, with total confidence, and hangs up before you can argue, which, you have to admit, is probably the correct read of the situation.
You find him on Tuesday evening, off shift, at the little park two streets from the station where you know — because everyone in a town this size knows everyone's habits eventually, whether they mean to or not — he sometimes goes to shoot free throws alone on the cracked half-court when he's got something on his mind.
Your hands are unsteady the whole drive over, and twice you nearly turn around, and both times you think of Minji on your couch, of your mother's hand on your shoulder, of Jiwon's voice on the phone, and you keep driving.
He sees you before you reach the fence, ball tucked under one arm, and for a second his face does something complicated — surprise, then that same careful, contained politeness from the fire station, sliding down over it like a shade.
“Hey,“ he says. “Everything okay? Kids alright?”
“The kids are fine. I'm not here about the kids.” Your voice sounds horribly strained. If he notices, he doesn’t comment, just waits, bouncing the ball once against the cracked asphalt like he needs something to do with his hands.
“I've been an idiot,“ you say, which isn't how you'd planned to start, but it's true, at least. “For, honestly, a really long time. I don't know how to say the rest of it in a way that doesn't sound like I practised it in my car on the way here, so I'm just going to tell you I practised it in my car on the way here and say it anyway.“
That gets the smallest flicker of something across his face — not quite a smile, but the ghost of one.
“I think I started off thinking you were teasing me, back in school. I thought it was a joke when you asked me to prom. And then after that I just needed you to be joking, because to me it didn’t make sense for you to be serious. And because the alternative meant I had to admit I wanted it too, and I didn't know what to do with that, so I kept handing it back to you instead.”
He sets the ball down against his hip, quiet, still watching you with an expression you can't fully read.
“And at the bar,” you say, “I panicked because I think I realised you meant it, and I realised I did too, and then, I don’t know, I just totally freaked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously and I kept brushing you off and I was mean when you didn’t deserve it, and I’m really, really sorry.”
He's quiet for a moment, turning the ball slowly in his hands, and when he speaks again some of the careful politeness has gone out of his voice, replaced by something rawer, more tired. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t mean it. It was just — in high school, yeah, I had a crush on you. And then after, there would be whole stretches where I wouldn’t even think about it. I mean, you went to college and I went to the academy, and — then you’d show up again and, I don’t know. Especially when you moved back.” He pauses — the ball slips out of his hands, and you both watch it bounce to a stop. “You were always worth asking,” he says, finally. “I wanted the chance again, every time, even if you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
“I'm really sorry,” you say, and you mean it.
“Okay,” he says, soft, and something in his shoulders loosens. “Practised in your car,” he repeats, and there — there it is, the corner of his lips turning up, small and a little disbelieving, like he isn't sure yet whether to trust it.
“Don't gloat.”
“I'm not gloating. I'm saving this for later. I'm going to bring it up constantly.”
“There he is,” you say, and your own eyes are stinging in a way you choose to blame on the wind, and he crosses the distance between you, slower than at the bar, giving you every chance to step back, and you don't, and this time when he kisses you, there's nothing careless in it at all.
an: i did not intend for this to be so complicated i rewrote this three times with different plots and editing took way way longer than intended. idk. it’s nearly 4am and i need to sleep.
okay hear me out, criminal reader and detective wonwoo. i need this in my life and i trust you clem 😭
Caught you, caught your heart
Pairing: detective!wonwoo x thief!reader
Enemies to lovers, forbidden love, smut
In the rain-soaked streets of Seoul, Detective Jeon Wonwoo finally catches the thief he's tried to catch for months, only to find himself trapped in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a woman who challenges everything he stands for. As secrets unravel and vulnerability surfaces, Wonwoo must choose between justice and the undeniable pull toward the criminal who might just steal his heart.
Wc:~6.7k
Warnings: stealing/robery, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, power imbalance, handcuff/restraint play, sexual tension, light angst, moral dilemma, strong language, consensual but forbidden encounter, teasing/sassing, emotional vulnerability
A/N: this request was just so good i had to write it first. Detective!wonwoo is just so 😩
The city lights blurred into streaks of neon under the relentless downpour, turning Seoul’s skyline into a glittering maze. Detective Jeon Wonwoo stood on the edge of the rooftop across from the Han Gallery, rain sluicing off his dark coat. His breath came steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. Six months. Six goddamn months chasing a ghost known only as Shadow and tonight the ghost was finally going to turn into something solid.
The gallery’s security system had been disabled with surgical precision: motion sensors looped, cameras frozen on empty corridors, alarms silenced like they’d never existed. Classic Shadow. But Wonwoo had anticipated the move. He’d spent weeks studying your patterns: the way you favored high-value, easily transportable art; how you always left a single mocking clue behind, a black feather or a smudged fingerprint in the shape of a crescent. Tonight’s target was the Starlight Necklace, a 47 carat diamond piece worth more than most people would see in ten lifetimes. It was the kind of bait you couldn’t resist.
"Unit two, in position?" Wonwoo murmured into the comms tucked in his ear.
"Affirmative. Perimeter secure. No movement on the east side."
He adjusted the grip on his Glock, the weight familiar and grounding. Most detectives would have called in a full SWAT team by now, but Wonwoo preferred to handle Shadow personally. You were his puzzle. His obsession. The one criminal who had slipped through his fingers four times already, always with that infuriating elegance that made his blood boil and his pulse quicken in ways he refused to examine too closely.
A flicker of movement caught his eye through the rain-streaked glass dome of the gallery’s atrium. There, black tactical gear blending with shadows, a lithe figure scaling the internal scaffolding like she was born to it. Shadow.
Wonwoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. "She’s inside. Moving to intercept."
He didn’t wait for backup confirmation. He vaulted over the narrow gap between buildings, boots slamming onto the gallery’s maintenance ledge. The rain made every surface slick, but he moved with the quiet precision that had earned him his reputation. Inside, the alarms remained silent thanks to your hack, but his own heartbeat thundered loud enough to drown out the storm.
He dropped through an access panel into the upper maintenance corridors, landing softly. The air smelled of polished marble and old money. Ahead, soft footsteps echoed, barely audible, but he’d trained himself to hear ghosts. He followed, gun drawn low, flashlight off. No need to announce himself yet.
The main exhibit hall opened below like a jewelry box. Crystal chandeliers hung. In the center, the Starlight Necklace rested on its velvet pedestal, glowing faintly under emergency lighting. And there you were.
You were crouched on the railing of the second-floor balcony, hood pulled low, a sleek backpack already bulging with tools. You moved with predatory grace, uncoiling a thin rope and anchoring it to the balcony’s ornate stonework. One leap and you’d be swinging down to claim your prize.
Wonwoo stepped out of the shadows. "Game over, Shadow."
You froze for half a second, then whipped around. Even with your face partially obscured by a black mask, he could see the sharp glint of surprise in your eyes, quickly replaced by something dangerously like amusement.
"Well, well" you said, voice low and smooth, carrying just enough edge to send a shiver down his spine. "Detective Jeon. I was wondering when you’d finally catch up."
"Hands where I can see them" he ordered, gun steady. "It’s finished. You’re not leaving here with that necklace."
You tilted your head, rain from a cracked skylight dripping down your hood. "You sound so sure. But we both know how this usually goes."
Without warning, you dropped. Not down to the necklace butsideways, launching yourself toward the emergency exit corridor. Wonwoo cursed and gave chase.
The pursuit turned the gallery into a battlefield of marble and glass. You were fast, faster than your file suggested and agile in a way that spoke of years of parkour and evasion training. You vaulted over display cases, slid under laser grids you must have mapped earlier and kicked a marble pedestal behind you to slow him down. The crash of stone echoed loudly.
Wonwoo leaped over the debris, closing the distance. "Stop! Police!"
Your laughter rang out, genuine, breathless, mocking. "You’ll have to do better than that, Detective!"
You burst onto the rooftop access stairs. The rain hammered harder up here, wind whipping between the high-rises. The city sprawled below you, a sea of lights and moving traffic. You sprinted across the gravel. Wonwoo followed, legs burning, lungs tight. You were heading for the edge, toward a narrow bridge of scaffolding connecting to the adjacent building.
He pushed harder. Ten meters. Five. You reached the scaffolding and started across, balancing like a tightrope walker despite the storm.
Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. He jumped after you, the metal groaning under your combined weight. Rain lashed his face, blurring his vision. You glanced back, eyes wide now, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
A gust of wind hit. The scaffolding shuddered. You slipped.
For one terrifying second, you hand missed the railing. Wonwoo lunged, grabbing your wrist just as you started to fall. The momentum carried you both crashing onto the rooftop of the next building. He rolled, pinning you beneath him before you could recover.
The impact drove the air from both your lungs. Wonwoo’s gun had skittered away somewhere in the chaos, but he didn’t need it. He had you.
You struggled beneath him, strong and slippery from the rain, but he was heavier, trained for this exact moment. He flipped you onto your stomach, yanking you arms behind your back. Cold metal cuffs clicked into place around you wrists with satisfying finality.
"Get off me" you hissed, but there was still that undercurrent of teasing in your voice.
Wonwoo hauled you to your feet, keeping a firm grip on your cuffed arms. You stood chest to chest on the rain-soaked rooftop, both breathing hard. He pulled your mask down.
For the first time, he saw your face clearly.
You were younger than he’d expected: mid-twenties, with sharp, expressive eyes that sparkled with defiance even now. Rain plastered strands of hair to your forehead. You lips, full and slightly parted from exertion, curved into a slow, dangerous smirk.
Your eyes locked.
Time seemed to stretch. The storm raged around you, but in that moment, everything narrowed to the heat of your body against his, the way your chest rose and fell in sync with his own ragged breaths. Wonwoo’s grip tightened instinctively. You didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned in just a fraction, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his rain-chilled skin.
"Careful, Detective" you murmured, voice husky. "You’re looking at me like you’ve been waiting for this a lot longer than six months."
Wonwoo’s jaw clenched. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck, equal parts anger and something far more dangerous. "You have the right to remain silent" he started, voice low and rough.
You laughed softly, the sound vibrating through your body into his. "Oh, please. Recite it properly. I want to hear how it sounds coming from you."
He ignored the taunt and continued "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney-"
"Will you be watching the interrogation, Wonwoo?" You interrupted, using his first name like you were old lovers instead of hunter and prey. "I hope so. I’ve got a lot to say… just for you."
He spun you around and began marching you toward the stairwell, one hand on your cuffed wrists, the other steadying your shoulder. The rain continued to pour, soaking you both to the bone. Backup sirens wailed in the distance now, too late, as always, when it came to you.
"You’re under arrest for multiple counts of grand theft, breaking and entering, and evading law enforcement" he finished, guiding you down the stairs. Your backpack had come loose during the struggle; he’d retrieve it later. For now, the weight of your body against his as you walked was distracting enough.
You glanced over your shoulder at him, that smirk never fading. Water droplets clung to your lashes. "You tackled me pretty hard back there. Almost felt personal."
"It was necessary."
"Mm. Sure it was." You tested the cuffs with a small wiggle, brushing deliberately against him. "These are tight. You worried I’ll slip away again?"
Wonwoo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was far more complicated. Six months of chasing you had built something he didn’t want to name. Frustration, respect and now, standing this close, feeling the heat radiating from you despite the cold rain, a spark of raw, unwelcome attraction.
You reached the ground level just as two patrol cars pulled up, lights flashing red and blue across the wet pavement. Officers spilled out, weapons drawn.
"Detective Jeon!" one called. "You got her!"
Wonwoo handed you off to the uniformed officers, but not before you turned one last time. Your eyes met again through the curtain of rain.
"See you soon, Detective" you called, voice carrying over the noise. "Try not to miss me too much in the interrogation room."
He watched as they guided you into the back of the cruiser. You didn’t resist, just sat there with that infuriating, captivating smirk, staring straight at him through the rain-streaked window until the car pulled away.
Wonwoo stood alone on the sidewalk, chest still heaving, rain mixing with the sweat on his face. His hands flexed at his sides. The Starlight Necklace was safe. The case was finally moving forward.
The metal cuffs bite into your wrists as the officers escort you down the sterile hallway of the precinct. Your clothes are still damp from the rooftop rain, clinging uncomfortably to your skin, but you keep your chin high. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead like insects. They push you into the interrogation room without ceremony: a small, windowless box painted in depressing shades of gray, with a heavy metal table bolted to the floor and a large one-way mirror dominating one wall.
"Sit" one officer grunts, shoving you into the chair. They secure your cuffed hands to a ring on the table, then leave you alone with the echo of the slamming door.
You lean back as much as the restraints allow, rolling your shoulders. The adrenaline from the chase hasn’t faded yet. If anything, it’s sharpened into something warmer, more dangerous. Detective Jeon Wonwoo. You’d studied him for months: his cases, his routines, the way he moved like a shadow himself. Tonight was the first time you’d truly been caught. And strangely, you weren’t entirely displeased.
Minutes stretch. Then the door opens.
He steps in alone, carrying a thin file folder. Detective Wonwoo looks exactly like the man who tackled you on that rain-slicked rooftop: tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair slightly tousled from the earlier chaos and those piercing eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses he must have put on for the formal setting. His white shirt is still damp at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscle. He closes the door behind him with a soft click.
You smile slowly, letting your gaze drag over him. "Well, hello again. Come to admire your handiwork up close?"
Wonwoo doesn’t smile back. He pulls out the chair opposite you and sits, placing the folder on the table with deliberate calm. His expression is neutral, professional, but you catch the slight tightening of his jaw. Good. You’re already under his skin.
"State your name for the record" he says, voice low and steady. He clicks a small recorder on and sets it between you.
You tilt your head, letting a playful lilt enter your voice. "You already know it. Or at least you think you do. Shadow is what you’ve been calling me in all those late-night reports, right? But since you asked so nicely… you can call me whatever you like tonight, Detective."
He ignores the bait. "Full legal name."
You sigh dramatically, leaning forward until the cuffs pull taut. The movement makes your damp shirt cling even more noticeably. "Fine. But only because you tackled me so enthusiastically earlier." You give him your real name, watching his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second before returning to yours.
Wonwoo opens the folder and spreads out several photos: surveillance stills of your past jobs, blurry shots of you in various disguises and one surprisingly clear image from a gala two months ago. "You’ve been busy. Multiple high-profile thefts over the last two years. The Louvre artifact last spring, the private vault in Busan and now the Starlight Necklace. We have you on camera this time."
You laugh softly, the sound echoing in the small room. "Camera? Please. I disabled every feed. That photo’s from the gala? You were there too, weren’t you? I saw you watching the crowd from the balcony. Looking very handsome in that tux, by the way. Very James Bond. Did you enjoy the champagne?"
His fingers tighten around the edge of the folder. "This isn’t a game. You’re facing serious charges. Cooperate and things might go easier for you. Who are you working with? Who fences the pieces?"
You lean back again, crossing your legs under the table as best you can. The cuffs clink. "Working with? Detective, you wound me. I prefer solo performances. More… intimate that way." Your eyes lock onto his. "Though I have to admit, chasing you around Seoul these past months has been the most fun I’ve had in ages. You’re very persistent. It’s almost flattering."
Wonwoo removes his glasses, setting them aside. He rubs the bridge of his nose, clearly fighting frustration. The dim lighting casts sharp shadows across his sharp cheekbones and full lips. You can’t help but admire the view.
"Flattering?" he repeats, voice dropping. "You nearly fell off a building tonight because of your recklessness."
"And yet here I am" you say sweetly "cuffed to a table across from the man who caught me. Tell me, Wonwoo, do you always pin your suspects down so thoroughly, or was that special treatment?"
Heat flickers in his gaze for a split second before he shuts it down. He slides another photo across the table: the Starlight Necklace in evidence. "Where were you planning to move this? Who’s your buyer?"
You glance at the photo, then back at him, biting your lower lip in mock thought. "Buyer? Hypothetically speaking… maybe someone who appreciates beautiful, rare things that are hard to obtain." Your voice lowers, teasing. "Like you, Detective. You’ve been hunting me for half a year. Tell me, do you think about me when you’re alone in your office late at night? Reviewing my files? Wondering what I look like without the mask?"
Wonwoo’s shoulders tense. He leans forward, mirroring your posture, his forearms resting on the table. The scent of rain and faint cologne reaches you. "I think about bringing you to justice. That’s all."
"Liar" you whisper, smiling wider. "Your eyes say otherwise. They’re very pretty when you’re trying so hard to stay professional. Did anyone ever tell you that you look cute when you’re frustrated? The little crease right here..." You nod toward his brow, wishing your hands were free to trace it.
He exhales sharply. "Enough. This is an official interrogation. Answer the questions. Accomplices. Safe houses. Previous jobs you pulled with help. Start talking."
You shrug, the motion making the cuffs rattle again. "What if I said I work alone because no one else can keep up with me? Not like you, of course. You almost caught me three times before tonight. That rooftop… mmm. The way you grabbed me? Very strong. Very decisive." Your tone turns playful and sultry. "I bet you’re even better when you’re not holding back."
Wonwoo stands abruptly, pacing a few steps to the side of the table. The movement reveals the way his damp shirt clings to his back and shoulders. You track every motion, enjoying how the tension coils in the air between you.
"Stop deflecting" he says, turning back to you. "We recovered your gear. Tools, ropes, the hack device. Forensics is going over everything. Make this easier on yourself. Tell me who you’re protecting."
You watch him with open appreciation. "Protecting? The only person I’m interested in right now is you. Tell me, Detective, how does it feel knowing the criminal you’ve been obsessed with is finally sitting right here? Cuffed. Helpless." You tug lightly at the restraints for emphasis, eyes sparkling. "Or maybe not so helpless. You seem a little… distracted."
He stops pacing and returns to his chair, sitting heavily. His gaze is intense now, darker. "You’re playing a dangerous game."
"I like dangerous" you reply immediately. "Especially when it looks like you. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, those intense eyes that won’t stop staring even when you pretend to read your little file. Have you been imagining this moment? Me, caught. You, in control." You lean as far forward as the cuffs allow, voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Because I have. More than once."
A heavy silence falls. The recorder continues to hum softly. Wonwoo’s fingers drum once on the table before he stills them. You can see the internal battle: professionalism versus the undeniable pull crackling in the room.
"Names" he says finally, voice rougher than before. "Give me something useful and I’ll talk to the DA about leniency."
You tilt your head, letting your hair fall over one shoulder. "Leniency? How generous. But what if I want something else from you, Wonwoo?" You deliberately use his first name again, savoring the way his eyes narrow. "A conversation that isn’t so one-sided. Maybe after this, when the cuffs come off… or even before. You could uncuff one hand. Just for a minute. I promise I’ll behave."
He scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. "You’re unbelievable."
"And yet you’re still here. Alone with me. No partner watching through the mirror?" You glance toward the glass. "Or are they? Wave hello for me. Tell them the detective is doing an excellent job staying focused despite how much I’m clearly affecting him."
Wonwoo runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling. "The Starlight Necklace wasn’t your only target tonight. We found evidence of planning for three more jobs. Talk."
You smile innocently. "Evidence? Or are you just guessing? You’re good, Detective, but I’m better at covering my tracks. Except when it comes to you. I left that feather at the last scene on purpose. Did you keep it? A little memento from Shadow to her favorite pursuer?"
His silence is telling.
You laugh, low and delighted. "You did. How sweet. I knew there was something between us. All that chasing… it’s practically foreplay, don’t you think?"
"Enough" he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction. He stands again, walking around the table until he’s beside you. Close enough that you almost have to hurt your neck to look up at him. The proximity sends a thrill through you.
"Trying to intimidate me with height?" you tease, eyes tracing the line of his throat. "It’s working. In all the best ways. You smell like rain and look very determinate. Very attractive."
Wonwoo places one hand on the back of your chair, leaning down. His face is inches from yours now. You can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his pupils have dilated slightly. "You’re under arrest. This, whatever game you’re playing, won’t work."
"Won’t it?" you whisper, holding his gaze without flinching. "Because your heart is racing. I can practically hear it. And mine…" You let the words hang, letting the tension thicken. "Mine hasn’t slowed down since you pinned me on that rooftop."
The air feels charged, heavy. For a long moment, neither of you moves. His breath brushes your cheek. You wonder if he’s about to do something, kiss you, shake you, or storm out. Instead, he straightens slowly, jaw clenched so tightly you worry it might crack.
He returns to his seat, but the professional mask is cracking. "We’re not done here" he says quietly. "Not by a long shot."
You smile, slow and victorious. "Good. I was hoping you’d say that, Detective. I could do this all night."
The interrogation continues, your teasing never letting up, each deflection laced with flirtation that pushes him closer to the edge. The rain from earlier still clings to both of you, but the real storm is building right here in this small, locked room, between the hunter and the woman who refuses to be easy prey.
Hours have passed since the interrogation. The precinct has quieted down for the night, most officers gone home or out on calls. You’re no longer in the main holding cell but in a smaller observation room adjacent to the interrogation area: temporary placement while they process your paperwork. Your wrists are still cuffed in front of you now, chained to a sturdy ring on the wall, giving you limited movement. The room is dimly lit by a single overhead light, the air cool against your skin. Your clothes have dried somewhat, but the memory of the rain and Wonwoo’s body pinning you lingers.
The door unlocks with a heavy click. You lift your head, a slow smile spreading across your lips as Detective Jeon Wonwoo steps inside. He’s changed into a fresh black shirt, but the exhaustion and tension from earlier are etched into his face. He carries no folder this time. No recorder. Just himself, closing the door firmly behind him and locking it.
"Back so soon?" you murmur, voice husky from the long night. "I knew you couldn’t stay away."
Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately. He stands there, eyes dark and intense as they rake over you: your slightly disheveled hair, the way your shirt still clings in places, the cuffs holding your wrists above the wall ring. The air thickens instantly, the same electric charge from the interrogation room returning tenfold.
"Final questions" he says roughly, but the excuse sounds weak even to your ears. He steps closer, stopping just out of reach. "You didn’t give me nearly enough earlier."
You laugh softly, tugging lightly at the cuffs so they clink. "We both know this isn’t about questions, Detective. You’ve been thinking about me. About this." You shift your stance, letting your hips tilt invitingly. "I could see it in your eyes the entire time. How badly you wanted to stop me from talking by other means."
His jaw clenches. He takes another step, then another, until he’s right in front of you. Towering. Close enough that you can smell his clean scent mixed with lingering traces of rain and coffee. "You talk too much" he mutters.
"Then make me stop" you challenge, eyes locking onto his. Your voice drops to a whisper. "Or are you still pretending to be the perfect, in-control detective?"
That does it.
Wonwoo’s control snaps. One large hand grips your chin, tilting your face up as his mouth crashes down on yours. The kiss is rough, hungry, all the pent-up frustration from months of chasing and the hours of teasing exploding between you. His lips are firm and demanding, tongue sweeping in when you gasp. You kiss him back just as fiercely, nipping at his bottom lip, pouring every taunt and smirk into the contact.
He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you. His free hand slides down your side, gripping your waist hard enough to bruise as he presses you back against the cool wall. The cuffs limit your movement, keeping your arms raised and stretched, leaving you open to him. Vulnerable, yet you’ve never felt more powerful.
"Fuck" he breathes against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. His glasses are fogged, lips already swollen. "You’re impossible."
You smirk, breathing hard. "Yet here you are, kissing the criminal you arrested. How very unprofessional, Wonwoo." You deliberately arch into him, feeling the hard line of his body. "I like it."
He doesn’t reply with words. Instead, he kisses you again, deeper, more possessive. His hand moves from your waist to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up roughly. Cool air hits your stomach as he palms your skin, fingers digging in. You moan into the kiss, the sound spurring him on. He breaks away to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking at the sensitive spot just below your ear until you’re shivering.
"Still think you’re in control?" you tease breathlessly, even as your body betrays you by pressing closer. "Because these cuffs say otherwise."
Wonwoo pulls back, eyes blazing. In one swift motion, he reaches for the chain and adjusts it slightly, giving you just enough slack to lower your arms but keeping them bound together. He spins you around suddenly, pressing your front against the wall, your cuffed hands now above your head. His chest molds to your back, hard and warm.
"You talk too much" he repeats, voice dark with arousal. One hand slides around to cup your breast through your bra, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens. You bite back a whimper, pushing back against the obvious bulge in his pants.
"Make me" you gasp, grinding against him deliberately. "Or can’t you handle a little sass while you fuck the woman you’ve been obsessing over?"
The words ignite him. He yanks your shirt up higher, then unclasps your bra with impatient fingers, freeing your breasts. His hands are everywhere: squeezing, pinching, rolling your nipples until pleasure borders on pain. You moan louder, the sound echoing in the small room. His mouth returns to your neck, biting down as he grinds his hips forward, letting you feel exactly how hard he is.
Clothes come off in a frenzy. He spins you again to face him, stripping your shirt and bra completely, then shoving your pants and underwear down your legs. The cuffs make it awkward, but he doesn’t remove them. He wants you like this, bound, at his mercy, yet still challenging him with every look.
You kick the fabric aside, standing bare before him. Wonwoo’s gaze darkens as he drinks you in, one hand sliding between your thighs. His fingers find you already wet, slick with need.
"Fuck, you’re soaked" he growls, circling your clit with practiced precision. Two thick fingers push inside you without warning, curling just right. Your knees buckle, but he holds you up with his body, pinning you to the wall.
"Ah...Wonwoo..." you moan, head falling back. You roll your hips, riding his fingers shamelessly. "Is this what you imagined during all those late nights? Me, dripping for you?"
He pumps his fingers faster, thumb pressing firmly on your clit. "Every damn night" he admits through gritted teeth, finally giving in to the truth. "Thinking about shutting that pretty mouth up."
You laugh breathlessly, the sound turning into a sharp cry as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Pleasure coils tight in your belly. "Then do it. Shut me up. Fuck me like you mean it, Detective."
Wonwoo curses, withdrawing his fingers. You whine at the loss, but he’s already undoing his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. He’s thick, hard, the head glistening. You lick your lips at the sight.
He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his hip, opening you to him. The cuffs keep your arms raised, stretching your body beautifully. With one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, he lines himself up and thrusts in deep in a single, powerful stroke.
The stretch burns deliciously. You cry out, nails digging into your own palms from the cuffs. He’s big, filling you completely. Wonwoo buries his face in your neck, groaning deeply as your walls clench around him.
"Move" you demand, voice wrecked. "Or are you going to tease me now?"
He pulls back and slams in again, setting a brutal pace. Each thrust rocks you against the wall, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing with your moans and his low grunts. His free hand grips your thigh hard, holding you in place as he fucks you relentlessly. The angle is perfect, hitting deep every time.
You meet him thrust for thrust as best you can, challenging him even now. "Harder, Wonwoo. Is this all the big bad detective has? I expected more after that rooftop tackle."
He growls, the sound primal. He adjusts his grip, lifting your other leg too so both are wrapped around his waist. The new position lets him drive even deeper, pounding into you with raw intensity. Sweat beads on his forehead. His shirt is open, buttons popped in the frenzy, revealing toned chest and abs flexing with every movement.
Pleasure builds fast and overwhelming. You kiss him messily, biting his lip, sucking his tongue. He returns it with equal fervor, one hand sliding up to grip your throat lightly, not choking, just holding, possessive.
"Come on" he rasps against your mouth. "Let me feel you. Come for me, you infuriating, perfect-"
The orgasm crashes over you without warning. You clench hard around him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure rip through your body. Your vision whites out, legs trembling around his waist.
Wonwoo doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release. His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, more desperate. You watch his face through half-lidded eyes: the furrowed brow, the parted lips, the raw need in his gaze as he stares at you.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, pulsing inside you. His hips stutter, body shuddering against yours as he rides out the climax.
For long moments, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the building. Wonwoo keeps you pinned to the wall, still buried deep, forehead resting against yours. Sweat mixes with the remnants of earlier rain on your skin.
You smile lazily, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "See? Told you it was personal."
He huffs a tired laugh, the sound surprisingly soft. Slowly, he lowers your legs, keeping an arm around your waist to support you as he pulls out. The loss makes you both hiss. He tucks himself away and helps adjust your clothes as best he can with your cuffed hands, the gesture strangely tender after the roughness.
But the heat in his eyes hasn’t faded completely. He cups your face, thumb brushing your swollen lips.
"This doesn’t change anything" he murmurs, though the words lack conviction.
You lean into his touch, eyes sparkling with challenge and satisfaction. "Doesn’t it? We’ll see about that, Detective."
Morning light filters weakly through the small, high window in the holding room, casting pale rectangles across the concrete floor. Your body aches in the best and worst ways, reminders of last night’s raw intensity lingering in your muscles, between your thighs and in the faint marks hidden beneath your clothes. The cuffs remain, though they’ve been loosened slightly. You sit at the metal table, hands resting on the surface, staring at the one-way mirror. Waiting.
The door opens sooner than you expected. Wonwoo steps in, looking like he hasn’t slept. Dark circles under his eyes, hair slightly messy, wearing the same black shirt from last night but now neatly tucked in. He carries a fresh file, thicker this time and two cups of coffee. He sets one in front of you without a word, then takes the seat across the table.
You wrap your cuffed hands around the warm cup, inhaling the bitter scent. "No recorder today?" you ask quietly. The sass from yesterday has softened; your voice is calmer, almost gentle. The night changed something between you. You can feel it in the way he looks at you now, not just hunger, but conflict.
Wonwoo shakes his head. "Off the record. For now." His eyes search your face, lingering on your lips before flicking away. "How are you feeling?"
A small smile tugs at your mouth. "Sore. Satisfied. Confused about why the detective who fucked me senseless is bringing me coffee instead of charging me with everything he can."
He winces slightly at your bluntness but doesn’t deny it. "Evidence came in overnight" he says, opening the file. Photos, documents and transcripts spill across the table. "The Starlight Necklace had a tracker. We recovered it, but more importantly… we found connections to a larger network. One that suggests you weren’t always working alone. Or at least, not by choice."
You sip the coffee, letting the warmth ground you. For the first time in the interrogation process, you don’t deflect with teasing. "I wasn’t. Not entirely."
Wonwoo leans forward, elbows on the table. The light highlights the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his gaze. "Talk to me. Really talk. No games. Why do you do this? The thefts, the risks. You’re smart enough to do anything else."
You stare into your cup for a long moment, the steam curling up like ghosts from your past. The vulnerability feels foreign, but after last night, after feeling him come undone inside you, after the way he held you afterward, you owe him something real.
"My sister" you say finally, voice low. "She got sick when we were younger. Really sick. Our parents were gone and the medical bills… they buried us. I did what I had to. Started small: stealing food, medicine. Then it turned into something bigger. People noticed talent. Offers came in. The kind you can’t refuse when you’re desperate and the hospitals keep sending new invoices." You meet his eyes steadily. "I became Shadow to save her. She’s in remission now, but the debts never really went away. And once you’re in that world, it’s hard to get out. They own pieces of you."
Wonwoo listens without interrupting, his expression unreadable but his hands clenched tight on the edge of the table. "Why not come to the police? Witness protection. Something."
You laugh bitterly. "The people I worked for have reach inside these walls. I’ve seen it. Turning myself in would have gotten her killed faster than any illness." You lean back, the cuffs clinking. "Last night… that wasn’t part of any plan. But you caught me anyway. And now here we are."
Silence stretches between you. Wonwoo rubs his face with both hands, exhaling heavily. The internal battle is clear on his features: the dedicated detective who has spent months building this case versus the man who pinned you against the wall and lost himself in you.
"I should turn everything over" he says quietly. "The evidence is solid. You’d go away for years. But after last night… after hearing this…" He gestures vaguely at the file. "There are gaps. Inconsistencies that could point to coercion. Extortion. I could push for a deal. Reduced charges. Protection."
Your heart skips. You study him carefully. "But that’s not what’s really bothering you, is it? It’s the fact that you want to help me. Not just as a cop. As the man who couldn’t stop himself from coming back here last night."
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he reaches across the table and covers your cuffed hands with one of his. The touch is warm, grounding. "I’ve never crossed a line like this before. Never. You make me question everything I stand for. Duty. Justice. All of it feels… complicated now."
You turn your hands, interlacing your fingers with his as much as the cuffs allow. "Then complicate it more. Help me disappear. Not forever. Just long enough to cut ties with the people pulling the strings. I have information that could bring them down, real ones, not just me. In return, I disappear. Or…" You pause, letting the words hang. "We find another way. Together."
Wonwoo’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a small, unconscious gesture that sends warmth spreading through your chest. "You’re asking me to risk everything. My badge. My integrity."
"I know." Your voice softens further. "And I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away right now. But last night wasn’t just sex, Wonwoo. You felt it too. The way we fit. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. Like I was more than just a criminal to catch."
He stands suddenly, pacing the small room like he did during the interrogation. Morning light catches his profile, highlighting the tension in his broad shoulders. "Evidence suggests your sister’s medical records were tampered with, pressure from the network to keep you compliant. I can use that. Build a case against them instead of you. But it would take time. And you’d have to stay in custody. Cooperate fully."
You watch him move, remembering how those same shoulders felt under your hands last night. "Or you could look the other way for one transport. A staged mistake. I vanish and you get credit for dismantling the bigger ring with the intel I give you anonymously."
He stops pacing and turns to you, eyes burning with conflict. "That’s not how this works. I don’t break the law."
"Yet you broke protocol last night" you counter gently, no accusation in your tone. "You came to me. You touched me. You let yourself want something outside the rules."
Wonwoo approaches the table again, bracing his hands on it and leaning down so your faces are close. You can see the exhaustion, the desire, the moral storm raging behind his eyes. "I can’t stop thinking about you" he admits, voice rough. "Even now. Knowing what you’ve been through… it makes me want to protect you. But I swore an oath."
You rise as much as the cuffs and chain allow, bringing your face inches from his. "Then protect me the right way. Not by locking me up forever, but by giving me a chance to make it right. I’m not innocent, Wonwoo. I’ve stolen. I’ve hurt people indirectly. But I’m not the villain you thought I was when you chased me across that rooftop."
He closes the distance, forehead resting against yours. His breath mingles with yours, warm and coffee-scented. For a moment, it feels like last night again, the intensity, the pull, but softer. More real.
"I need time to think" he whispers. "To review everything. There might be a way to get you into protective custody with a deal. Witness status. Your sister safe. You… out of that life."
You nod slowly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "And if there isn’t? If the only way is riskier?"
Wonwoo’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jaw. The touch is tender, at odds with the man who fucked you against the wall hours ago. "Then I don’t know what I’ll do. But I won’t let them have you. Not the network. Not the system if it’s unjust."
The confession hangs heavy in the air. You turn your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. "That’s all I needed to hear. Whatever you decide… I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in years."
He lingers there, thumb stroking your skin, eyes searching yours for answers neither of you fully have. The file on the table represents two paths: one of duty, cold and clear, and another of messy, dangerous possibility: alliance, redemption, maybe even something deeper.
Finally, Wonwoo straightens. He gathers the papers but leaves the coffee. "I’ll be back later today. Don’t do anything reckless."
You smile faintly, the familiar teasing spark returning just a little. "No promises, Detective. But I’ll behave… for you."
hi! saw ur recent post and i’d love an update on wonwoo and y/n from the atla series :) it was such a fun one to read
Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader
Synopsis: In which Southern Water Tribe was not all it seemed and has you questioning yours and his fate.
Genre: Angst, fluff/comfort, forbidden relationship kinda, atla!au, of flames and fate!couple, bit of Romeo & Juliet (but they are problem solvers and not dumb 😀) firebender!wonwoo, leuitenant general!wonwoo, bounty hunter!wonwoo, outcast!wonwoo, waterbender!reader, southern water tribe princess!reader, earthbender!jeonghan (he's old), jeonghan is oc's caretaker
Warnings: Wonwoo is down horrendous (but so is reader)
WC: 1310
A/N: Anon - I am so sorry this took me 3000 years to complete :') I It's not that long, but I hope you enjoy it!
of flames and fate masterlist
Sitting at the edge of your bed, your heart feels as heavy as the thick fur and suede robe that clad your body and the diamond necklace that adorned your neck. Your chest swirls with relief, guilt, and loneliness. Your bedroom, grand and elegantly decorated, feels cold and prison-like. Your body aches and yearns for the overwashed, lightweight, beige garments and dry plains of Ba Sing Se. Jeonghan’s high-pitched scolding from the yonder echoes in the back of your mind, strangely bringing tears welling in your eyes.
It’s a strange feeling – to be in a place once called home, but feel so distant; to be with your family, but feel like a stranger; to have what you’ve always dreamed of, but want none of it.
You’re trying your best to re-integrate into your family and match the enthusiasm of your parents, but you only find yourself overwhelmed and questioning yourself at the end of the day. They showered you with sweet words and gifts, but it felt hollow. The line of servants following you was as suffocating as the several layers you were forced to dress in on the daily. You imagined your return to the Southern Water Tribe to be much smoother than this. Constantly, you have to remind yourself that it’s only a matter of time until you feel comfortable, yet as the days passed, you felt increasingly hopeless, that “time” feeling more distant.
Your heart sinks at the thought of this being your fate. The days were mundane and it was hard to sit still. People were polite and kind, but you craved deeper conversations and connections. Questions of what would happen to Jeonghan haunt you in passing as well.
Your self-pity and mulling are disrupted by a quiet thud that sounds behind the balcony doors. Your head spins, body curling back into your bedpost in alarm as you frantically search the room for any sort of item to be used as a weapon to protect yourself. The latch clicks and you freeze.
“It’s just me,” his deep voice bellows through and a sense of relief immediately washes over you.
He steps inside, revealing his full form, seemingly even broader in the military uniform your family had provided him. He pulls down the hood of his coat, followed by the black mask that hid his distinct features from your family.
With hurried steps, you clamber off the bed, your heavy garb suddenly feeling weightless. You had to stop yourself from launching yourself at him – nearly teetering over a few steps away from him, clutching your hands close to your chest. Your heart raced and eyes wide in anticipation at his arrival.
Though you had sent away your maid and it was only the two of you in the room, you still check behind your shoulder for any uninvited guests before turning to him and asking eagerly, “What are you doing here?”
A beat passes, the corner of his lips twitch up into a small smile at the sight of you. He steps forward, his hand reaching for your arm. His gloved fingers dance along the fabric of your coat before they settle on your forearm. His eyes are soft and the lines etching the skin of his forehead visibly relax. It’s only a matter of seconds before he pulls you into his embrace.
You’re stunned at first, sucking in a sharp breath. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his waist at the familiar, faint scent of smoke that envelopes you. His body molds easily into your hold, his warmth bringing comfort in the lonesome, icy room.
“What if someone sees?” you whisper harshly. Despite the concern, a small chuckle escapes your lips as you press your cheek into his chest, relieved to see him: Your home.
If there was one thing keeping you sane throughout this whole visit, it was knowing that Wonwoo was nearby. He arrived with you and Jeonghan under the guise of Jeonghan’s trusted right hand man and your protector – Jeonghan claimed his assistance was needed as his own limbs were getting old and rickety, though this was far from the truth. Your added insistence that Wonwoo stay close in your foreign home was questioned, but your father didn’t think much of it. After all, you were kept alive all this time.
Wonwoo pulls back, though he doesn’t let go of you quite yet. He tilts his head to the side and shrugs. “We’re married – how taboo can this be?”
“They don’t know that,” you retort.
“They will eventually,” he tries.
You only remain silent, eyes casting to the side in hesitation. This is another question that continues to ruminate in your mind: How do you tell your family you’re married? Let alone, to the enemy? The former lieutenant general of the Fire Nation military?
This isn’t the first source of tension in your relationship, but it definitely is the most challenging thus far.
“I-I missed you,” he mutters. It’s so soft, you would’ve missed it if you didn’t have a whole wing of the palace to yourself.
You raise your head, catching and holding his gaze in the process. His eyes still set on you, unwavering, though the timidness and shyness are evident. You smile, though with a bittersweet edge.
“I don’t think I heard you quite right,” you tease weakly, slipping your hands into his own.
He swallows the lump of this throat harshly, jaw clenching and unclenching. Wonwoo never wore his heart on his sleeve nor was he clingy or needy, but his adoration for you is never amiss if you paid attention long enough. Jeonghan often teased him (behind your back of course) about the lingering, shy smiles after you’ve run off to do errands and the way he seemed impatient if your absence is prolonged. If the art of subtlety was a talent, Wonwoo is certainly the master of it.
This, however, is new territory for him – to love so openly and outwardly. Perhaps it’s the talks of betrothal he overheard between your parents that brought out the green side of him or merely the time spent separately, but the urge to tell you aloud was almost instinct.
“I missed you,” Wonwoo repeats, louder and more firmly this time. He squeezes your hand as if to make a point.
Despite your ears heating up, you sigh in relief and unknowingly, your shoulders relax. Your free hand reaches up to cup his cheek. They’re hot – unsure if they’re from embarrassment or just the natural state of a firebender attempting to keep warm in the South Pole. Wonwoo follows, his hand enveloping yours as he leans into your touch.
Though words aren’t spoken, there seems to be a mutual understanding. From the distance to the politics – the burden of it all eating away at the both of you. The thought to just let it all go and just be becomes a new dream that haunts you late at night. However, neither of you were strangers to duty and perhaps to a flaw. The both of you were too logical to just flee, knowing there were worse consequences that came out of that scenario.
But just . . . what if?
“What if we just . . . go?” Wonwoo whispers. His tone is vulnerable and gentle as if he’s asking a sacred question. It’s reminiscent of the first time he asked if you wanted to get married – the occasion was so simple, but the moment was fragile, like a glass bead hanging on its last thread.
What if you just go?
“Jeonghan?” you ask weakly, in a last ditch attempt.
+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.
+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader
+ word count: 4.5k
+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!
HC | Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)
Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.
Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.
Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.
Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.
To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.
Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!
Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.
And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.
Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.
[...]
To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.
Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.
Other than that...
Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.
Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-
"Hellooo? Yn!"
Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.
"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.
You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.
“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.
Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"
You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.
You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.
"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.
Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"
Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?
You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.
"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."
Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.
"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.
You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.
[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]
Oh.
Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.
Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?
You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.
Wrong.
When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.
"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"
Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.
[yn | wonwoo]
If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.
If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.
You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?
After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.
"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.
Well, that didn't last long.
You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.
Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?
"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.
You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.
"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."
As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.
But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.
As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.
Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.
Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.
"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.
Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.
After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.
"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.
Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.
After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.
"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.
Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.
With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.
As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.
"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.
Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.
You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.
Did he seriously consider you as a friend?
Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.
"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."
His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.
"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.
Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.
"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."
His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.
He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.
It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.
It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.
You had to do something.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.
"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.
And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.
What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.
“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.
You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.
And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.
“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.
It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.
Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”
Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.
You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"
Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.
Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.
Ugh, he was so annoying.
Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.
After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.
[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]
Oh god. What did he possibly want now?
[www.onwoo]
why didn't you come with me?
:(
Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.
[you]
it's only a one-man job.
also you look ridiculous with my bag.
Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.
[www.onwoo]
i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼
You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.
[you]
i have immaculate taste that's why.
A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.
Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.
“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.
You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”
Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.
You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.
Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.
Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.
“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.
Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”
But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.
“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.
You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”
“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.
After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.
It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.
You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.
Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.
And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.
Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”
Fuck. You forgot about that.
He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.
“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.
“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.
A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.
“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”
You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.
“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.
You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.
Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.
"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.
Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.
Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”
He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.
“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.
By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.
There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.
Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.
Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.
"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"
Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.
"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.
🔮 preview. “Well,” Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. “You see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now you’re here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose I’m wondering if, after all of these years, maybe you’d be interested in giving me a chance.”
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a classroom in a deserted school during a high school reunion), trying to be quiet during sex, sex on a desk, clothes on sex, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, manhandling, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) pretty girl.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5k
🍭 aus. Slice of life au, high school reunion au, nerd high schooler to sexy tech entrepreneur adult. etc…
☀️ mlist + an. We love a nerd who is obsessed with you in high school, then becomes super rich and fucks you at your ten-year reunion.
Prologue:
The football field is full of students, newly graduated, their whole lives ahead of them. Yearbooks are being absolutely defaced with notes of good wishes, and all sorts of multicoloured pens scribble kind words and hopes of the future.
You’ve been here for over an hour, saying goodbye to classmates and hearing about summer and university plans. But there is one person you’re keeping an eye out for; Wonwoo has been your math tutor for two years now, and without him, your grade point average may not have been high enough to get into your dream school, so you refuse to leave today without saying one final thank you to the nerd who made your future attainable.
He’s an elusive guy, the kind of dude who doesn’t really have many friends, keeps his head down, and is always the top of the class. You suppose you’re not surprised he’s missing from the football field; crowds have never been his thing, but then, you spot him by the bleachers.
Excusing yourself from your friends, you head over to Wonwoo. “Hi!”
“Oh, hi.” He looks up at you, glasses slightly crooked, closed yearbook in hand.
“Can I sign that?” you ask, motioning to his book.
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
You take the yearbook from him, and when you open it to the first page, you find it empty. Your heart drops. Although Wonwoo has always been the studying type, you’re sure it must hurt to have not one note written in his yearbook.
Wonwoo has extreme social anxiety, but he’s a kind person, and he was more than patient with you when he was your tutor.
‘Wonwoo, thank you so much for helping me with math. I’m not sure what I would have done without you. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and I know you’re going to go extremely far in life. I can see you being a CEO at some biotech company or running Silicon Valley. Don’t ever stop using that amazing brain of yours, and I’d say good luck, but I know you won’t need it. Xoxo y/n’
You give the yearbook back to him, and as Wonwoo looks down at your note, a hand wraps around your forearm.
“Come on, babe, everyone else has already left to go to the fair.” It’s your boyfriend, Seungcheol, his varsity jacket draped over one arm.
“Oh, sorry, I was just finishing up.” You swallow thickly, looking back at Wonwoo. “A bunch of us are going to the fair if you want to come.”
“It’s more of a football team and their girlfriends sort of thing,” Seungcheol interjects quickly.
You sigh. It’s no secret that your boyfriend can be a bit of a bully, especially when it comes to the more nerdy types, and while you’ll swear up and down that Seungcheol is a good guy deep down, he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
“It’s okay, I don’t really like crowds,” Wonwoo says quietly.
You open your mouth, wanting to say more, but Seungcheol tugs on your arm again. “Have a great summer, Wonwoo,” you blurt out, overwhelmed by the urgency your boyfriend is exhibiting. “And I know you’ll kill it at MIT."
One:
“Okay, so little black dress, or the blue?” you ask, holding up each option so your high school friend Sumi can see it through FaceTime.
“It depends. Are you trying to get laid at our ten-year high school reunion?” Sumi laughs. “I heard Seungcheol is single again.”
“Yeah, and he has an ex-wife that sued him for half of what he made when he was in the NFL before he tore his ACL and had to retire at the ripe age of twenty-five,” you scoff.
“Okay, maybe too much drama,” your friend acquiesces. “Go with the black. Getting laid or not, we both have to look super hot.”
“It will be fun to see what everyone is up to,” you nod, putting your chosen dress in your suitcase. “I can’t wait for us to be in the same city again.”
You and Sumi had attended university together, but then you’d gone your separate ways, chasing job opportunities in different cities.
“Our Airbnb is a no-boy zone, though, I hope you know,” Sumi teases.
“We’re not going to the reunion to hook up with ex-classmates,” you agree.
“Speaking of ex-classmates who would want to fuck us at the reunion…” Sumi grins into the camera. “Is Wonwoo coming?”
“Wait, Wonwoo was into you?” you ask.
Sumi lets out a laugh. “Not me, you ditz. Wonwoo was always clearly into you.”
“Was he really?”
“It was so obvious!” Sumi insists. “But you were with Seungcheol, and everyone knows Seungcheol kind of bullied Wonwoo. I think he was jealous that Wonwoo was smart enough to help you with classes where you struggled, and Seungcheol couldn’t.”
You frown, memories of high school flooding back.
Wonwoo was always adorable, but his lack of social skills made it difficult for him to get close to anyone. You had a soft spot for him back then, but you were in love with Seungcheol before you parted ways for university, and he dumped you in the first week when he joined a frat.
“Hey, I’ve gotta run,” Sumi sighs. “But I will see you at our Airbnb in twenty-four hours.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you smile, saying goodbye to your friend. As the call hangs up, you do a Google search for Wonwoo’s name.
You’re a reporter now, and part of the reason you’re so good at your job is that you’re curious.
There’s no harm in looking up an ex classmate.
Two:
The first thing you find about Wonwoo is that he made the Forbes top 30 under 30 list, which nearly knocks you off your bed. The man in the picture is no longer the nerd who helped you with his homework. Adorned in a dark suit, Wonwoo looks regal in his photographs, and you’re shocked at how handsome he’s become.
It seems he launched a startup after graduating from MIT and has since founded his company, which runs out of Silicon Valley.
It takes you a few minutes to wrap your head around this information, because… well, you’d guessed this was his career path when you were a teenager. Although you’d known he was capable, you never expected him to actually follow through with his talent.
From Forbes, you find a few news articles. They describe Wonwoo as an elusive visionary, a master of all things related to computer science, the man to watch.
That’s when you find his TED Talk, and you spend the next twenty minutes watching this gorgeous nerd talk about AI, tech, the language of computers, and things you can’t even wrap your head around.
This man, who once hated crowds, who once dreaded doing presentations in class… he’s come so far, and it makes your heart melt with happiness to see that Wonwoo is doing well.
You love the way his lips still quirk into this silly grin when he speaks, the grin that says ‘I know way more about this subject than you, but that’s fine because I will teach you so you can understand what I’m talking about.’
It feels like you’re graduating high school again. Possibilities seem endless when you listen to Wonwoo talk. He makes the seemingly unattainable feel within reach.
God, you are so extremely proud of him.
Three:
So far, the reunion feels a bit lackluster. You spend the first half an hour dodging Seungcheol, and another half an hour listening to ex-classmates talk about all the children they’ve been having. The baby pictures are endless.
You finally pull away to get a breather, stepping outside the gymnasium to escape the scent of perfume and sweat that is beginning to overtake the crowded space.
It feels so weird to be back at your high school, and you take a moment to consider how far you’ve come. When you graduated, life seemed like a clear shot. You would go to university to become a teacher, marry Seungcheol, be a wife to an NFL player with a long career… funny how none of that ended up happening.
“Y/N?”
You whip around and come face to face with your old tutor… your now extremely hot and successful old tutor.
“Wonwoo?” you gasp.
“Thought that was you,” he smiles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“I-” you swallow thickly. “Have you gone inside yet?” You’re pretty sure he hasn’t, because you’ve been looking for him the whole time.
“No, I got a phone call when I arrived and had to manage something, and then, well, then I wondered if going inside would be worth it.”
“Oh.” You can’t help the dejected feeling that washes over you.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he continues.
“Me? I wasn’t sure you would be,” you laugh. “Mister Silicon Valley.”
“I suppose you’re not surprised,” Wonwoo smirks. “You guessed this would happen.”
“You were the smartest guy I knew in high school, and I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re still the smartest man I know now.”
“I wish I’d had the confidence in myself that you had in me back when we were students,” Wonwoo admits, releasing a sigh. “Maybe things would have been a little different.”
You tilt your head to the side, trying to understand him. “What kind of things?”
Wonwoo shrugs, his tailored suit showing off the broadness of his shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. Anyways, you’re a reporter, huh. That’s not the career I would have envisioned you in.”
“No?”
So he looked you up, too.
“You always used to talk about being a teacher, dating a successful man, having kids, that sort of thing.”
“Well,” you consider his words, “I was young then. Being a reporter allows me to share information with a wider range of people, and I learned that I didn’t need a man; I could be successful all on my own.”
“Are you happy?”
“I’m very happy. And you?”
Wonwoo cocks his head, opening his mouth, then closing it. “There’s a lot about my life that makes me happy, but there are also a few things… missing.”
“I can understand that,” you nod, not wanting to pry even though pushing for information is your job. You’re not on the clock right now, and you want to provide friendship to a man who is probably used to intrusive questions.
Wonwoo studies you. “So other than being a reporter, what have you been up to? Sounds like you’re not with the ‘star quarterback’ anymore.”
A laugh immediately escapes you. “No! It’s been almost ten years since I dated Seungcheol.”
“Oh?” Wonwoo grins. “You always seemed so confident that you two would be together forever.”
“I started dating him when we were fourteen. When we graduated a couple of years later, I had no idea what real life would be like.” You shake your head, hating how naive you were. “How about you, Mister Tech Entrepreneur? I bet all the girls are trying to slide into your DMs.”
“I’m single, very single, unfortunately,” Wonwoo laughs awkwardly. “I guess lately I’ve been thinking about the one that got away.”
Your body surges at the notion of gossip. “Okay, I was trying not to pry before, but now I have to ask. Tell me the story.”
“Well,” Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. “You see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now you’re here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose I’m wondering if, after all of these years, maybe you’d be interested in giving me a chance.”
Your heart is racing in your chest. For the first time in a very long time, you don’t know what to say.
You’d always thought Wonwoo was adorable, and he treated you so well. He was patient and gentle, and he never got exasperated with you over math homework. He was quiet, but when he did talk, he was always insightful. Wonwoo always allowed you to be completely yourself, free of judgment, and he cheered you on for every math test, watching your grades improve as a result of his encouragement.
A part of you had known you were interested in him, even back when you’d thought your life was figured out with Seungcheol.
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this too,” you admit.
“And?”
“And… If we don’t take this chance… maybe we’ll continue to regret it.”
Your words hang thick in the air, and you can see Wonwoo digesting them. He swallows thickly, taking a step toward you.
You’re drawn to him, and you also close the distance, until there’s only a foot between you.
He’s truly become so handsome, but he’s still just Wonwoo, your Wonwoo. There’s something special about the fact that you knew this man before his worldly successes, that you knew and cared for him when he was the dorky nerd who ate lunch in the library and had only your signature in his yearbook.
You still feel bad for him, for the way his high school years panned out, but look at him now.
Thank God that Sumi told you to wear your sexy little black dress.
“Is it bad that I want to kiss you for the first time here, of all places?” Wonwoo asks with an awkward chuckle.
“Oddly enough, it feels right,” you laugh, taking his hand and guiding it to your hip. “If I’d never been with Seungcheol…”
“Let’s not even think about the past like that,” Wonwoo sighs, tugging you flush to his body. “We’re here now, that’s what matters.”
You nod, and then you lean forward, pressing your lips to Wonwoo’s for the very first time.
It’s like a jolt of electricity surges through you, and nothing has ever felt this right.
His lips are so soft, and he holds you in such a careful way, as if he’s afraid this is a dream.
But this is not a dream, that much is clear from the way your panties are already sticking to your core.
You press yourself closer, one hand grasping the nape of his neck as the kiss deepens in the most delicious way imaginable.
Wonwoo definitely knows how to kiss. It’s not an obnoxious style, no, he’s careful, calculated, but his movements still betray the fact that he’s been longing for you for ten years. It’s as if he’s dreamed of this moment a million times, and now you’re actually here, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up.
His tongue gently glides against your own, and you stifle a moan at the feeling, your body tingling delightfully.
You thread your fingers through his hair, wanting him even closer, although your chests are pressed together and there’s no room between you.
You want to feel him, all of him, and the realization makes a shiver run through you.
“Wonwoo,” you gasp, breaking the kiss.
“Yeah?”
“I know a place.”
“You know a place?” he laughs.
“Follow me.” You grab his hand, chasing your fantasies as you lead him to a door that takes you to the rest of the school. Running through the halls with Wonwoo feels like a fever dream; it’s as if you remember every locker, every linoleum tile that paves the hallways that echo with each footstep.
“Where are we going?” Wonwoo asks, a chuckle escaping him.
“The math room.”
“Why are we going there?”
“Because that’s where I realized I liked you as more than a tutor, more than a friend,” you tell him, your voice bouncing off the walls like a tantalizing reverie.
You can’t believe you’re doing this, but there’s no turning back now, and you wouldn’t want to either.
You whisk Wonwoo into your old math classroom, and the memories come flooding back. Your teacher would allow Wonwoo to tutor you here when the library wasn’t available, and you spent many hours alone with the handsome nerd in the confines of these four walls.
Maybe Seungcheol did bully Wonwoo because he could see what you were blind to until recently. It’s clear you had a connection with your tutor, one that was lost on you at the time.
“Do you remember this?” you ask, turning to face Wonwoo. “All the time we spent here?”
“Like it was yesterday,” he laughs.
“I thought you were the smartest, cutest guy I’d ever met,” you tell him, leaning back against one of the large tables.
“And I thought you were the kindest, most gorgeous girl I’d ever know,” Wonwoo retorts, approaching you. His hands make contact with the desk on either side of you, blocking you in while you look up at him.
His eyes are twinkling with joy, and you’ve never seen him this happy. He was handsome before, but now, he’s absolutely radiant, and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.
It’s a frenzied kiss, both of you pouring all of your longing into the meeting of your mouths. You thread your fingers through his hair, and Wonwoo reaches down, lifting you onto the table. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush to your body while a whimper escapes you.
Wonwoo grins, one of his hands slipping up your thigh and under your dress.
Confidence is radiating off of him, and it’s the sexiest thing you can imagine. His thumb strokes the waistband of your panties, and you wiggle your hips, a wordless invitation.
Wonwoo’s fingers make contact with your core over your panties, and you gasp.
“You’re soaked, pretty girl,” Wonwoo tells you, and your whole body shivers at his words.
“I want you,” you confess, swallowing thickly.
“You have me,” Wonwoo promises, rubbing your clit while his lips move to your throat.
You groan, throwing your head back and tugging gently on his hair. You love being worshipped like this. Most of the men you’ve been with have been self-centered in bed, but you suppose nerds always have something to prove.
Or maybe it’s just that Wonwoo actually cares about you, even after all this time.
You grind down against his hand, moaning louder when he applies more pressure to your sensitive bud. “Just like that,” you tell him. “Fuck, it feels so good.”
“I’m Mister Tech Entrepreneur,” Wonwoo says in your ear. “I type code and use my fingers for a living.”
God, why is that so hot?
He pushes your panties to the side, and two of his fingers enter your drenched pussy.
Wonwoo sucks your earlobe into his mouth as he curls his digits, immediately finding your G-spot.
“Right there!” you tell him, clenching your eyes shut.
“Be a good girl for me and try not to be too loud,” Wonwoo warns. “I’d hate for anyone to walk in on this.”
You’d kind of forgotten that you’re in a math classroom at your old high school during a reunion. It’s not like people are roaming the halls, but if Sumi were to come looking for you, or even Seungcheol…
You shiver at the idea of your ex walking in on this. There’s something so exciting about exhibitionism with Wonwoo, especially in a classroom that holds so much history for the two of you.
His palm makes contact with your clit, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, whimpering desperately.
“Good girl,” Wonwoo praises you, and your core throbs from his words.
His lips find yours again, and you kiss him eagerly, wiggling your hips to grind against his hand while he works you up.
He definitely knows how to use his fingers, and each targeted stroke of your G-spot takes you closer to the edge.
Your heart is racing in your chest, your mind is fuzzy with lust, and your body is beginning to feel like it’s swelling with pleasure.
Your whimpers are muffled by the meeting of your lips, but as your orgasm approaches, you break the kiss. “Wonwoo,” you whimper, stroking the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. “Please.”
“You can cum for me,” he assures you. “I’m not into orgasm denial.”
You can’t help but laugh, but your giggle quickly turns into another moan as he finger fucks you even harder.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Wonwoo tells you. “I want to see you cum.”
You bite your bottom lip, trying to force your eyes to stay open even as your orgasm builds. You continue to wiggle your hips, grinding against his palm while his fingers coax you to the edge.
Finally, you can’t hold back anymore, and your orgasm slams into you. Your back arches, lips parting as a cry escapes you. Your pussy clamps down on Wonwoo’s fingers, your entire body flooded with pleasure. With curled toes and muscles that are screaming, you do your best to keep your eyes open, your attention fixed on his handsome nerd, who seems to know exactly what to do to make you feel ecstasy in a way no other man has.
“That’s it,” Wonwoo grins, watching you closely. “You’re such a pretty girl when you cum on my fingers.”
Another wave of pleasure erupts at his words, and you twitch, core absolutely throbbing as he continues to work you through your orgasm.
As your high subsides, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of your soaked pussy. You watch with bated breath as he licks them clean, groaning sinfully. Then, he grabs the back of your neck, drawing your lips to his so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
You reach between your bodies, cupping his cock as it presses against his pants.
“Fuck me,” you instruct. “I need you.”
“If you only knew how many years I waited to hear you say that…” Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath. “This is going better than I expected… I didn’t bring protection-”
“I’m on birth control,” you laugh. “And I’m assuming we’re both clean.”
“As a whistle,” he confirms
God, he’s so stupidly adorable.
You lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear as you whisper, “Then fuck me.”
“Whatever you want, pretty girl.”
Wonwoo reaches for his belt, and the two of you make quick work of it. Then you push his pants and underwear down.
“I’m not usually a fan of clothes on sex,” you tell him, swallowing thickly and pushing your panties to the side. “So you’ll just have to make it up to me later.”
Wonwoo laughs, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a pump. “I’m not usually a fan of exhibitionism,” he muses. “So I guess we’re both outside of our wheelhouse tonight.”
“It’s worth it,” you insist as he lines his tip up with your core. “And it feels grossly fitting that this is where we’re having our first time.”
“Grossly fitting?” he prompts as he pushes into you.
“Yeah, sex on a desk in a math classroom, we’re being delinquents,” you groan, falling back against the table as inch after inch of cock invades your most sensitive area.
“I guess so,” Wonwoo chuckles, fully sheathing himself inside of you.
You let out a sigh of relief, loving the full feeling. Wonwoo isn’t the thickest cock you’ve ever had inside of you, but he’s long, and he’s curved slightly, his tip nudging against a sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.
“Fuck,” you whimper, lifting your dress so you can reach down and rub your clit. Your body jolts, still sensitive, but fuck, it feels good, and you can tell Wonwoo likes the way your core clenches around him because he releases a groan.
“You feel amazing,” Wonwoo tells you.
“I’ll feel even better when you start to move,” you counter, feeling cheeky and desperate.
Wonwoo laughs. “You got it, pretty girl.”
He grabs your hips, anchoring you to the table so he can begin to fuck you.
His cock glides against your inner walls deliciously, and you close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wooden table with a soft thunk. You continue to rub your clit, muscles twitching at the pleasure that’s already beginning to blossom inside of you again.
His pace increases, and your whimpers fill the classroom. Your free hand moves to grab your own breast through your dress, and you hear Wonwoo let out a shuddery breath.
He’s bewitched by you, and it makes you feel powerful, alive, in a way you haven’t felt in a very long time.
You open your eyes and look up at him, loving the rosy tint to his cheeks. His tie is loose, and he looks frazzled in the sexiest possible way.
You rub your clit harder, your core squeezing Wonwoo like a vice as you work yourself closer to the edge, loving each drag of his cock inside your core.
“Just like that,” you tell him, biting your bottom lip to focus on the pleasure.
“You gonna cum for me again, gorgeous?” Wonwoo lets out a half-chuckle, but you can see the effort he’s putting in to remaining composed.
“If you’re lucky,” you tease.
“If I’m lucky,” Wonwoo repeats, his pace slowing as he shakes his head. “Thought you said you’d be good for me.”
He pulls out of you suddenly, and you squeak as he drags you off the table, flipping you so your back is to him. Then he pushes your upper body onto the desk, dropping your panties to your knees and lifting the skirt of your dress to slide back into your core again.
“Try to be cheeky again, I dare you,” he says, his breath hot against your bare shoulders.
You shiver, wobbling a little in your high heels, but his hands on your hips pin you to the desk. “I’ll be good,” you promise, loving the dominance that’s radiating off of him.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Wonwoo lets up a little, allowing you to slip your hand between your thighs again. It’s an awkward position, your arm pressed between your body and the table, the fabric of your dress a mess, but you manage to rub your clit again, and you both groan desperately.
“I want to cum with you,” you tell him, loving the feeling of the cool wood against your hot cheek.
“That can be arranged.”
Dominant, confident, and oddly formal in a very sexy way… this is crazy.
He begins to rut into you again, but this time, you know he’s not holding anything back. Your hips repeatedly push against the edge of the table, and it hurts a little, but there’s pleasure in the pain, pleasure in the knowledge that Wonwoo is coming completely undone.
He’s groaning more now, and the sounds are music to your ears, egging you on to rub your clit harder, to chase the orgasm that he’s clearly on the brink of.
“Don’t stop,” you whimper, clenching your eyes shut, your muscles tight and ready-
Wonwoo suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you unfulfilled,” he tells you. “Now cum on my cock, pretty girl.”
His words are the last prompt you need, and your pussy explodes around him, throbbing desperately while your guttural moans fill the classroom.
Wonwoo lets out his own groan, his thrusts becoming erratic. You feel him filling you up, his cock throbbing deep inside of you as your walls milk him for every drop that he’s worth.
Your heart is racing in your chest, and you struggle slightly, which is when he releases your hair, allowing you to collapse against the cool table again.
His hands find your hips, and his motions stop.
You lay there, your upper body flopped on the desk, while you both recollect yourselves.
Finally, Wonwoo clears his throat. “I’m sorry if I got a bit rough at the end there.”
“No, I liked it,” you assure him.
“Usually, if we were in my own home, I’d clean you up in the shower, and give you proper aftercare-”
“We’re at a reunion, and I’m not planning on showering in the girls' locker room by the gym, no worries,” you laugh.
“I have a penthouse suite at a hotel nearby,” Wonwoo continues. “How about we say our goodbyes to everyone, and I take you back with me.”
He pulls out of you carefully, lifting your panties back into place as you begin to feel his cum dripping out of you.
“You did promise to fuck me without our clothes on.”
“Without the exhibitionism,” Wonwoo agrees with a laugh.
“Let’s do it,” you decide. “We live in different cities now, and even if it’s just for tonight… let’s make the most of it.”
“I hope it’s not just for tonight,” Wonwoo chuckles awkwardly, helping you off the table. “But let's talk about that later, there’s no rush.”
It’s interesting, there hadn’t been a rush for ten years, but the moment you saw him tonight, you wanted things to speed up. He may say there’s no time constraint on considering a future after this, but your mind is already spinning with possibilities. You feel like a love-struck teenager again, but now, you’re not as naive as you once were.
It will be interesting to see where tonight leads, but you suppose you just have to be patient. You waited ten years, one more night to figure things out won’t hurt you.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This fic kind of gave Sapiosexual vibes with the whole smart businessman thing. Killed me to make Seungcheol a bully but it had to be done for plot!
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🔮 preview. His thumb finds your clit, and you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider for Wonwoo. There’s nothing remotely alluring or seductive about the numbers he’s spitting out aggressively on the phone, but his voice just does something to you, and as always, he knows how to use his fingers.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral (pussy eating & blow job), handjob, exhibitionism, foreplay, foreplay while Wonwoo is on an important phone call, dirty talk, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, praise, etc… I petnames. (hers) pretty girl.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 130
🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader
bonus
Some days you wake up and wonder if you’re still dreaming. You’ve been with Wonwoo for two years now, and life has changed in the most magical of ways. As much as you enjoyed being a successful woman who didn’t need a man, becoming aligned with Wonwoo has shown you that sometimes, having a partner who is equally - if not more driven - than you are, can be the biggest blessing.
You live with him in his swanky house, and he supports you as you build your career as a reporter in San Fransico. He’s still the CEO of his own company, and you both pour yourselves into work, which fulfills both of your spirits and allows you to be your best selves when you’re together at home.
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PAIRING: Guard!Junhui x Oracle!Reader
SUMMARY: Your entire life has been plagued by visions and by an emperor who wields you like a weapon. When you've finally had enough, you ask the single man sworn to protect you for help you're not sure he's willing to give.
WC: 10,640
AU: Fantasy
GENRE: Forbidden romance, mild angst, smut
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
WARNINGS: Reader suffers from the after effects of visions which make her sick, vomit, faint, etc. She also sees visions of war, death, destruction and some mild description of gore, depictions of anxiety and fear, the emperor is obviously evil and cruel, perception of unrequited love, some mild angst and pining, the emperor does hit reader a single time, depictions of blood (her nose bleeds a lot), some kind of stupid world building re: gender roles and prophecy being tied to virginity that I do NOT endorse aka I don't believe power is tied to purity it's just for the plot ok, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving) reader is a virgin so brief moment where that shit hurts, some mild praise and v v v barely there dirty talk, vaginal finger, multiple orgasms, ummm I think that's it this is very loving and tame.
A/N: This is for my milestone requests that I posted and then immediately went on hiatus because that's the way tumblr works! This is for @haologram who requested number 8 with Junhui :) ALSO please don't get used to the 10k word counts for these this was kind of unusual and I felt inspired and shout out to the movie The Scorpion King for the idea
AN 2: This is not beta read so I’m sorry - there will definitely be mistakes! I did proof read/spelling and grammar check but I often miss a lot! Also I was too lazy to make a banner lmfao
MAIN M. LIST | ASK | FOR MY MILESTONE EVENT
FIRST COMES THE SILENCE. It's your only warning as the world peels away from you, the murmur of the court fading to the background until even the sound of voices are lost to the stillness. The warmth leeches from you next, a cold tingle blooming through you like spreading frost in winter, your arms getting heavy. You sit abruptly as the world shifts and the throne room fades to something else, something wet and freezing cold.
Rain.
Rain is falling in relentless sheets that are so cold it hurts, even through the vision. In front of you is a battledfield churned to a sea of black mud, cut up by boots and the hooves of war horses and the deep wheels of the machines of war. Broken wagons lie half-stuck in the mud, their splintered wheels jutting up from the chaos, some still spinning. Banners in colors lost to the black mud with symbols you can't make out in the rain hang in sodden ribbons, snapped from their poles.
The smell chokes you. Wet earth. Wood smoke. Blood. So much blood that it fills your mouth, warm and metallic. You cough, falling forward into the vision so that your knees hit the mud with a wet squelch. Your hand catches on metal and when you look down, the broken body of a soldier is beneath you. His throat is a scarlet gash, opened up from a sword, his eyes vacant and staring at the rainy sky.
You recoil, snatching your hand away as you fall backward into the rain, ass sinking into the mud. Somewhere to your left, a horse screams, high and shrill until the sound is abruptly cut off. A man a few yards away crawls through the mud with a single arm, the other several yards behind him where the fingers are still curled around the hilt of a broken sword. He drags himself toward you as though he's asking for help, and you scream and look away.
The world tilts and your vision changes abruptly, each image overlapping the other in flashes of light and sound. Thousands of bodies. A river choked with them. A bridge with the banners of the northern king. The emperor - your emperor- on his war chariot, the wheels turning as he crosses the bridge.
Suddenly, the vision releases you. You crash forward, wood striking your knees hard enough that you cry out as your hands shoot out. Your palms skid across the ground, stinging as skin tears open. Bile burns at the back of your throat and you taste the blood before you realize you've bitten your tongue again, the iron taste in your mouth real. You feel the wet warmth of blood as it trickles from your nose, splattering too brightly against the dark wood beneath you.
The wooden floor is cold beneath you as your vision swims and the throne room reassembles itself. You look up to see the wooden pillars that vanish into a vaulted ceiling with incense burning in their holders. Torches and braziers fill the room with heat, the orange flames licking along the twisted metal and casting long shadows across the waiting courtiers. Everything feels too bright and too sharp and you wince, the headache behind your eyes hammering you as soon as the vision fades in full.
Someone kneels beside you and you know without looking that it's Junhui, the smell of vetiver and cedar comforting with the taste of blood and salt in your mouth. His hands find you first, fingers calloused from sword work as they wrap around your hands, steadying you. The touch grounds you and pulls you back from the battlefield that's turned to the headache stabbing in your skull.
When you don't pull away from him, Junhui slides one arm behind your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, hauling you up and into his arms as though you weigh nothing at all. He's careful when he sets you on your feet, hands braced on your biceps as you sway a little. You're vaguely aware of how close he is, lashes fluttering as you look up at him.
"You okay?" He asks, voice soft.
Before you can answer, the emperor demands, "What did you see?"
You don't look at him. Looking at him only makes things worse. Instead, you stare in the distance as you taste the copper dripping from your nose.
"The north," you murmur. Each word costs you, your head throbbing, vision blurry as the headache grows. "The northern kingdom."
Beside you, Junhui presses his hand to the small of your back. It's barely there, but it's something, your heart fluttering as his thumb moves in small circles, grounding. You don't know if anyone else notices, but you notice, and that's all that matters.
"You'll invade at the height of the rainy season," you continue as your ears begin to ring. "When the rivers are high and the roads turn to mud from the rains. You'll win."
The throne room erupts into applause and cheers as the courtiers shout in triumph. Soldiers pound their fists against their armor, and the emperor rises in your peripheral vision, spreading his arms as he laughs, the sound booming across the room. The firelight from the braziers seems to brighten with their glee, the shadows dancing across the pillars as smoke drifts in the rafters from the incense.
You want to vomit as the nausea rises sharply and suddenly. You press a hand to your mouth and Junhui notices immediately - of course he does. He always notices. His hand slides around your waist and pulls you toward him, steadying you as he angles you so that his body shields you from the worst of the light and sound.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Junhui says, bowing deeply. The emperor turns to stare at him, cheeks ruddy and red from the heat of the hall and the glee. "If I may, the Sacred needs to rest. The vision has taken much from her. Might I escort her to her chambers?"
Sacred. You hate the title. Hate that it chains you to the emperor you've just predicted another victory for, so long as he attacks at the precise time that you've instructed. You've been his sword and shield since you were a little girl gifted to him and his growing empire, helping him knock his opponents off the board one by one.
You hate him. You hate him more than you hate yourself for being useful to him, but you have no other options. He hates you too, you think. Beyond being a cruel man, he's as shrewd as they come. You don't think any of your glares go unnoticed, and though you think he'd love to revel in your misery, he's careful with you, too afraid to break you and lose access to the future you promise.
He waves a hand dismissively, turning back to the crowd. "Yes, yes, take her. We have plans to make. The rainy season is coming soon and we have to make preparations immediately."
Junhui doesn't hesitate, his hand urging you toward the great doors at the far end of the throne room. You lean into him more than you mean to, your legs unsteady beneath you as the smell of the hinoki incense cling to your robes.
Behind you, the celebration continues, growing louder as the emperor orders courtesans and entertainment. You're grateful when the doors close behind you with a heavy thud to muffle the noise, leaving only the muffled quiet and the cool winds of winter rustling the trees in the imperial courtyard.
Junhui's thumb traces small circles against your side, another one of those small gestures that's just for you. They are few and far between, so you hoard them like a gluttonous child hiding mooncakes in their pockets, determined to keep them for your darkest days. You know it means nothing - not the way you want it to. He's kind to you because it's his duty and because someone must be. Because perhaps he pities the broken oracle who bleeds for an emperor who doesn't deserve victory.
Still, you let yourself cling to these moments anyway, your small fantasies of romance and being stolen away keeping you from going mad.
The cold air hits your face, sharp and biting. It does nothing for the pounding in your skull and if anything, the headache splits deeper, a white-hot spike driving through bone with each step you take. Your stomach lurches as bile floods the back of your throat, bitter and burning. The courtyard tilts, the bare branches of the plum trees blurring into dark streaks against winter grey as you start to tip over.
Junhui catches you before you lose your footing in full, arms sliding beneath your knees and around your back to haul you up and against his chest. You want to protest as he cradles you against him, but another wave of nausea hits you and all you can do is press your face against the cool leather of his armor and hope you don't retch all over him and embarrass yourself forever.
"I've got you," he murmurs, voice low and right against your ear. "Just hold on."
He moves quickly through the courtyard. You're aware of his footsteps and the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of his breathing. The world narrows and becomes only the warmth of his body and the steady beating of his heart against your cheek.
Your chambers are in the eastern wing, far enough from the celebration that it fades to nothing as he walks. He shoulders open the red lacquer door to your room and carries you inside to the smell of sandalwood and jasmine.
The chambers provided to you are modest, silk screens painted with cranes and willows, a low platform bed draped in pale green silk and piled high with soft blankets and pillows. The latticed window let the winter sun filter, the delicate shadows dappled across the polished wooden floor. It's the only space in the palace that is entirely yours, and you crave it, spending most of the days in the dark as the pain in your head recedes.
Junhui lowers you onto your bed like your spun of glass before he arranges the cushions behind your back, propping you up so you're half-reclined. His hands linger at your shoulders for half a second before pulling away, and you miss his warmth immediately.
"Wait here," he instructs.
"As if I could do anything else."
He huffs, amused as he crosses to the small table near the window. He opens a porcelain pitcher and pours it into a wooden basin. You let your eyes close, the sound of his hands in the water the only sound. He crosses back toward you and when you open your eyes, he's kneeling at your bedside and reaching out with a cool, damp cloth to press against your head.
You can't stop the small sound that escapes you. The relief is immediate. It isn't enough, of course, but it's something and something is better than nothing.
When he puts it down, he gestures to your robe. "Your outer robe is making you overheart. Maybe I?"
You nod, too exhausted to care about prosperity or about rules. Junhui has seen you more vulnerable than anyone else has the right to, and you know it means nothing untoward as his fingers work on the clasps and ties with practiced efficiency, never lingering where he shouldn't.
He eases the heavy brocade from your shoulders, leaving the lighter inner layers. You can breathe again, feeling the winter air that slips through the cracks kiss your overheated skin. You sigh in relief, leaning back onto the pillows as he folds the robe and sets it aside before turning his attention back to you.
Taking the cloth up again, he leans forward and wipes at the dried blood under your nose and on your chin, his touch so gentle it makes your heart squeeze, the feeling inside of you that you refuse to name cracking open a little more. When he's satisfied, he leans back on his heels, watching you.
"You don't have to do this," you mutter, head falling back on the pillows as you stare up at the ceiling. Your head still hurts, thoughts swimming. "The emperor didn't assign you to nursemaid duty."
"My duty is to you," he says sharply. "Not to the emperor or court or anything else. It's to keep you safe and keep you well. That's all that matters to me. This counts."
You love that he says it. You hate that he says it. His words are both burden and balm, and he has no idea how much you want to believe them, how much you want to let yourself imagine that this devotion means what your foolish heart wishes it could mean. That you wish that when he touches you with tenderness, it's because he wants to and not because he must.
But you know better - you always have. The ancient scrolls about oracles - the Sacreds - have always been clean that oracles should remain untouched and unspoiled, pure in body and spirit. The moment an oracle is touched and spoiled by the intimacy only known between lovers or concubines, they become nothing more than ordinary women.
The emperor has no use for ordinary women. The moment you are anything less than the Sacred, he'll toss you out or worse - keep you as something to spoil and besot and remind you how far you've fallen from graze.
You accept Junhui's care because you're selfish enough to want it, even though it means nothing. You let him adjust the blanket around you and smooth the hair back from your damp forehead, and you let yourself pretend for a moment that this is a moment born of love rather than duty, and that you can have this. That you can have him.
"Thank you," you whisper, though you know he doesn't realize what for.
Your eyes close against the sting of the day, your headache taking over. His hand finds yourself beneath the blanket and his fingers thread through yours gently as he squeezes.
"Rest," he says softly. "I'll be here."
You nod and feel the weight of exhaustion pull you under, dreaming that his sweeping thumb across the back of your hand is because he loves you, and not because it's his duty.
-
Voices wake you. Junhui's voice is raised above them all, cutting through an argument like a blade. You open your eyes, the dark outside your window telling you that the sun has not yet risen. You sit up slowly and the room spins, the dull ache behind your eye and neck telling you that you're not yet free of your earlier vision's repercussions.
"She needs rest," Junhui snarls. "The visions are demanding and he has asked for them more and more. You will not-"
"The emperor has summoned her," someone else answers. "We have our orders."
"And I have mine. Yours can wait until morning."
"It is morning."
"It's barely beyond midnight!"
Your body still feels hollowed out, mouth dry and skin sweaty. You think you've only been asleep for a few hours, but you push yourself up onto your elbow, pausing as the room sways. When it stops, you get up and head to the door, opening it so that a sliver of the torchlight from the hallway falls across your room.
Junhui turns to you at once, his face twisted in anger. He blocks your doorway, his body a wall between you and the three imperial guards standing in the corridor beyond. Their armor gleams in the firelight, lacquered black and red, the emperor's colors. They don't care that you can barely walk or that your hands are shaking. They only care about their orders.
"You should be resting," Junhui growls. "I will handle-"
"It doesn't matter." You meet his eyes and see frustration burning there, a helplessness that you feel too. "If the emperor summons me, I go."
"You can barely stand."
"I must manage."
"You shouldn't have to."
"Can you help me dress properly?" You whisper the question for only him to hear, the other guards lingering.
For a moment, Junhui's eyes flash, something unreadable crossing his face so quickly it's there before you can understand. He nods tightly once and pushes inside, not letting the guards catch a glimpse of you before he shoulders the door shut.
Darkness swallows the room. You stand on unsteady feet as Junhui rummages around for a match before lighting a candle with a single strike. The orange glow makes him look haunting, sharp features sharper, eyes so dark they reflect the light of the candle back while he moves around the room.
He moves efficiently, retrieving a new robe from your wardrobe. It's deep blue silk embroidered with silver cranes, one of your favorites. He crosses the room toward you and you lift your arms a little as he settles it over your shoulders, helping you pull your arms through before he's tying off laces.
When he's finished, he grabs a single comb, gathering your hair low at your neck to twist it up and give you some breathing room. Cool air brushes against the back of your neck and you're grateful.
"There," he mutters, standing in front of you.
"I'm ready."
It's a lie. You feel like you're made of paper, like someone could blow you away or cut right through you. But you remain standing anyway, and Junhui sighs, hand sliding to the small of your back as he guides you in the candlelight toward the door and into the hallway.
Neither of the guards acknowledge you. They simply begin walking, expecting you to follow. You do, and Junhui stays close, his hand never leaving your back, his grip firm enough that you can lean into him whenever the room tilts and becomes unsteady again.
The walk to the throne room feels endless. Each step sends an unsteady feeling up through your legs, and though the sharp pain of earlier is gone from your skull, the dull ache that remains isn't much better.
Your stomach churns with anxiety as you walk through winding halls. You know that the emperor has summoned you for another vision. He's done it over and over more recently, each promised victory and small win making him hungry for more, making him addicted to the future, to moves and countermoves.
Winter air bites at you as you cross the courtyard. Junhui pulls you closer and you smell him, vetiver and cedar. His body blocks most of the cold, and you lean into him, seeking heat. He lets you as the guards lead you to the throne room doors, the massive panels of dark wood bound with iron looming ahead.
The guards push the doors open and the familiar scent of hinoki incense washes over you, mixing with the acrid smoke of the burning braziers in the hall. At the end of the hall, the emperor sits on his throne, leaning forward in his seat, fingers drumming against the carved armrest.
There is no court this time - just a small handful of advisors and generals standing in clusters along the pillars, which means this isn't spectacle. It's business. Nervousness settles sourly in your stomach as you approach, footsteps echoing on the polished wood floor. Junhui's hand stays at your back until you reach the proper distance where he steps aside - but not far. Never far, even in the presence of the emperor.
You lower yourself into a bow and your knees nearly give out. Junhui is there in an instant, his hands firmly on your waist to keep you from falling forward onto your face as the room spins. You grimace through it, hands clutching your sleeves as you take a few deep breaths to regain composure.
"Your Imperial Majesty," you manage. "I'm here."
"Finally. I've been waiting."
You straighten slowly with Junhui's help and meet the emperor's eyes. They're dark and calculating, fixed on where Junhui's hands remain for a moment before he steps a respectful distance away once more. A needle of fear stabs at the back of your neck, sharp and cool.
"I want to know about the Free Isles," the emperor says. "Can we take them immediately after the northern kingdom, when they think they're safe? With the resources from the north, they should be no match for me."
Your heart sinks. The Free Isles are a chain of islands far to the northeast, fiercely independent and protected by treacherous waters and storms that only northern ships are made to cut through. The emperor has wanted them for years, but has never had the ships to take them. Of course he wishes to take them as soon as he has ships, the greed and desire to plant his flag on free shores insatiable.
You lick your lips. "I may not be able to see right now, Your Imperial Majesty. Using the gift this close together-"
"I don't care about your discomfort." He waves a hand dismissively. "I care about the future of my empire. Now look. Tell me what you see."
Behind you, Junhui tenses. You stare at the emperor and see no room for argument, no mercy. You knew he was not a merciful man the way he conquered lands, but you hadn't expected him to risk damaging you like this.
Nodding, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You hate reaching for visions - oftentimes they come at random, seizing you when you're in a crowded room or alone in the bathing room. Sometimes they take you faster than you can summon them. But reaching for them feels like reaching into a wound every time, painful and sharp.
Pain explodes behind your eyes, white-hot and blinding as you dip into the well of your power. You feel your nose start to bleed again from the force, hot copper flooding your mouth. Your own heartbeat hammers too fast, too loud, thundering in your ears like the emperor's war drums.
The vision comes to you like a knife to the gut, stabbing and painful. You're on the deck of a ship - no. You are the ship, the wood of your body groaning, the spray from the sea cold and sharp. The sky above is storm-black, choked with clouds so dark they're almost green. Lightning splits the sky and for one blinding moment, you see dozens of ships bearing the emperor's colors, their red and black sails straining against wind that screams and tears at the sea.
In front of you, a wave rises ahead. It's impossibly tall, a mountain of water that climbs climbs climbs toward the sky until it comes crashing down. The world becomes water - cold, crushing. You can't breathe and salt water floods your mouth and nose, choking you. Your lungs scream and wood splinters, the sound like bones breaking. Men scream, but the sound is lost in the roar of the ocean.
When you surface, you're you again, not the ship. Another ship lets out a resonant crack as the mast falls, crashing through the deck. Some soldiers jump, some cling to the side. The sea takes them as the ship goes down, the water pulling them into the belly of its black depths. You feel terror like never before, but the storm doesn't stop.
Another wave. Then another. Ships splinter. Bodies vanish underneath the waves. So many bodies. The ocean swallows them whole, greedy and hungry, taking and taking and taking.
Through the ocean spray and chaos, you see land. The Free Isles rise from the sea like teeth, their rocky shores and cliff spread open like a mouth laughing to the sky. Warriors dot the cliffs, lit up only by the flash of lightning as they watch the storm do the work for them.
A wave crashes over you and drags you down to the bottom of the sea. In the flashes of light that shine through the murky ocean, you see pieces of ship floating, red and black banners sinking toward the depths of the sea, bodies thrashing as the undertow pulls them down down down.
The vision releases you and you're drowning in air instead of water, gasping, choking on nothing. Your knees buckle and you catch yourself on the floor, palms slapping against the polished wood as blood gushes from your knows. Junhui's hands are already on you, trying to stop you from collapsing into the red pooling on the floor beneath you. Voices swirl around you, but you can't make out anything they're saying, the roar of the sea - or your blood rushing in your ears - drowning out everything else.
Slowly, words come back to you. Your head lolls to the side as you look up at the emperor, his face furious and impatient as he slams his closed fist against the arm of his throne. "Well? What did you see?"
"Failure," you choke out, coughing on imaginary mouthfuls of water. "The Free Isles cannot be taken. The storms will do the work for them and the islands will not fall."
"Look again, then!" He booms. "Find a solution!"
"I cannot-"
You don't know when the emperor stood up, but he's in front of you suddenly, his hand moving faster than you can track. The blow catches you across the face, snapping your head to the side. Pain explodes along your cheekbone, bright and sharp and the throne room spins.
Junhui moves. One moment he's behind you, the next he's between you and the emperor, his body a wall of rage. His hand goes to his sword, fingers wrapping around the hilt to slide the blade free just enough that the ring of metal cuts through the room.
Every guard in the room tenses. Hands fly to weapons. You hear the whisper of steel, the creak of leather armor as soldiers shift their weight, ready to strike. The advisors along the pillars press themselves back against the wood, their faces pale that Junhui would dare to draw steel in front of the emperor.
The emperor goes very still. His eyes narrow, and for a moment you see something flicker there - surprise, maybe - before his face twists with rage at the affront. You look at Junhui, and though you can't see his face, his rigid shoulders say it all.
"You dare," the emperor hisses. "You dare to draw steel in my presence? You dare threaten your emperor?"
"My mandate is to protect her." Junhui doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. His shoulders are squared, his stance wide and grounded. "From any threat. Even you, Your Imperial Majesty."
The advisors go rigid. You can feel their shock radiating outward, a physical thing. This is treason. Open defiance. The kind of thing that ends with heads on spikes outside the palace gates. Your heart hammers against your ribs. The room swims, gaze blurry from the emperor's blow and the vision's aftermath and the realization that Junhui is signing his own death warrant for you.
You try to reach a hand up to tug on his sleeve but you can't move - you can barely think. You're broken on your knees, the taste of iron and salt in your mouth, looking up at Junhui as he remains in front of you.
"You forget yourself," the emperor snarls. "You forget who holds your life in his hands, who holds her life in his hands."
Junhui's grip tightens on his sword. "I forgot nothing, Your Imperial Majesty. I took an oath in front of you and this court to protect her from all, including the throne. This is my duty."
"Your duty is obedience. Your duty is to serve me. Everything in this palace - every guard, every servant, every Sacred - exists to serve me."
"I cannot break the oath I gave you, Your Imperial Majesty."
The emperor's face goes dark as silence permeates the room. Red creeps up into his neck and cheeks, his breathing labored as he works himself up, his rage choking the air in the throne room. Junhui stands in front of you anyway, his eyes forward, exterior calm.
You try to stand. Your legs don't cooperate, blood dripping from your nose and mouth, spattering beneath you. Your whole body trembles and you want to tell Junhui to stop, to save himself, but your voice doesn't work.
All you can do is watch. Watch him risk everything. Watch him stand between you and the most powerful man in the empire. Watch him choose you over his own life. Something cracks open in your chest. Something that feels like hope and terror and longing all tangled together. Something you can't afford to feel.
For a long moment, no one moves or breathes. The guards wait for the order to strike while the advisors stay out of the way, trying to become invisible in the pools of shadows between the pillars.
Finally, the emperor laughs. The sound is harsh and startling against the silence, echoing off the walls.
"Get out," his voice is ragged. "Both of you. Get out of my sight before I have you both executed."
Junhui doesn't wait for him to change his mind. He turns, hauling you to your feet with careful hands, and guides you toward the doors. Your legs barely work and your face throbs where the emperor struck you. You ignore the pain, instead focusing on the way Junhui's arm is around your waist, holding you up as you somehow make it across the throne room.
Outside, the world is bitter cold. The courtyard tilts on its axis, and you feel Junhui's arm tighten around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.
"Stay with me," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear.
"He'll kill you," you try to say. But your voice won't work. The words come out broken. Slurred. "Junhui, he'll-"
"Shh." His grip tightens. "Don't talk. Just breathe."
But breathing hurts. Everything hurts. The edges of your vision go dark and fuzzy, like looking through a tunnel. You can hear voices, but they sound distorted and echoing, like you're underwater again, drowning in that vision of ships and storms and mean screaming as the ocean devours them whole.
Your legs give out completely. You feel Junhui catch you. Feel his hands on your face.
Then nothing. Just silence.
-
The first thing you become aware of is warmth. It isn't the oppressive heat of the throne room, but it's the soft warmth of your room, the smell of sandalwood and jasmine comforting. The light comes second, soft and flickering, the orange glow soft behind your closed eyelids.
When your eyes flutter open, you see candles. Dozens of them burning in their holders, casting dancing shadows against the silk screens that divide your chambers. You're still in your bed, though the heavy outer layer of your robes are gone. Someone has covered you with a thick quilt embroidered with dragons - your favorite.
You try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain lances through your skull - not the white-hot agony of a vision, but a deep, bone-weary ache that makes your stomach turn. You let out a small sound, barely more than a breath, and freeze when you realize Junhui is watching you from the side of your bed.
He's removed his armor, dressed only in the red and black robes of a palace guard. It catches you off guard - you've never seen him without his armor before. It makes him look unguarded, his dark hair disheveled and falling across his forehead slightly. His elbows rest on his knees, his head forward as his dark gaze pins you to the mattress.
"You're awake."
"I think so." Your voice comes out broken and harsh. "I hope so."
Junhui moves immediately. He reaches for a cup on the low table beside your bed and slides one hand behind your head carefully as he helps you lean forward to drink. The water is cool with a hint of medicinal herbs and you gulp, coughing a little.
"Careful," he murmurs. "Small sips, no gulping."
It soothes your throat and you manage three sips before pulling back, letting Junhui set the cup aside as he carefully sits back down beside you, pulling his chair closer.
"How long was I out?" You ask, sinking back down.
"Six hours. Maybe seven. I lost track."
Seven hours. You've been unconscious for seven hours. The weight of that settles over you like a stone. Seven hours of Junhui sitting here, watching over you, waiting for you to wake. Seven hours of not knowing if you would.
"The physician came," Junhui continues. "He said you need rest. That you can't keep doing this."
You close your eyes. The exhaustion is bone-deep. Soul-deep. It lives inside of you, in all of the spaces between your ribs and in the hollows of your chest, pumping through your blood, threaded with everything breath. You're tired of this, tired of being the Sacred, tired of having headaches, tired of being split open and rendered useless by visions you've never asked for, tired of serving a man you despise and resisting the man you want.
"I hate this," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I hate this. I hate the visions. I hate being this, I hate-"
Your voice cracks down the middle like ice over a frozen lake, everything you've kept inside of you welling to the surface, rushing forward in an onslaught you cannot stop. You feel the tears spilling over as your hands fists the quilt and you cry.
"I wish I didn't have them. I wish I didn't live like this," you choke out. "I've lived like this since I was a little girl, unable to live how I want, to do what I want. It isn't fair Jun. It isn't fair! I want to be nothing, I want to be no one!"
Junhui says nothing at first. You can't look at him - can't bear to see what's written on his face. Pity, probably. You hate that the most, that he probably pities you, that he's nice and sweet and kind because no one else is.
He startles you when he moves. You look up to see him move from sitting on the chair to the bed, his weight on the mattress making you dip toward him as his hand slips beneath the quilt to find yours, his fingers lacing with yours. The touch is unexpected and gentle, palm warm against yours. Solid. Real. Calloused but comforting.
Junhui is looking at you. Not at the wall, not at his hands, not at some distant point beyond your shoulder like all the other courtiers when you're collapsing or bleeding or writhing in pain. He's looking at you, his dark eyes are steady on your face, and there's something in them that makes your heart hammer, something that looks almost like pain.
"If I could take them from you," he says quietly, "I would. In a heartbeat I would take them away."
You stare at him - really look at him for the first time since you woke to see exhaustion etched into every line of his face, dark circles beneath his eyes. You examine each part of him - the slight slump to his shoulders that he never allows when he's on duty. The way his hair falls across his forehead, disheveled and uncombed. He looks like he hasn't slept. Like he's been sitting here beside your bed for hours, watching over you, waiting for you to wake.
The worry hasn't left his gaze. You can see it there, sharp and clear in the way his eyes move over your face, cataloging every bruise, every sign of pain. The way his jaw tightens when his gaze lands on the mark the emperor left on your cheek.
There's something else there too, something you've seen before but didn't know how to name, something you never let yourself hope for, but only dreamed about. Something in the way he holds your hand - not like a guard on duty, but like you mean something to him beyond being his charge.
Your heart pounds. This is dangerous. Forbidden. But you're so tired of being careful. So tired of denying yourself the one thing you want. So tired of pretending that his kindness is just duty, that his gentleness means nothing, that you don't feel the way you do.
"There is a way," you hear yourself say.
Junhui's brow furrows. His thumb stops its gentle movement across your knuckles. "What?"
Your mouth goes dry. This is it. The precipice. You could pull back now. Laugh it off. Pretend you meant something else. Say you were talking about running away, or finding some mythical cure, or anything other than what you're actually suggesting, but you're so tired of pretending.
"The visions," you say slowly. Each word feels like pulling teeth. Like dragging something heavy and sharp up from the depths of your chest. "They're tied to - um - purity."
Heat floods your cheeks. You can feel it spreading down your neck, across your chest. Can feel the way your skin burns with shame and something else. Something that might be hope or fear or both tangled together until you can't tell them apart.
You can't look at him anymore. Can't bear to see his reaction. So you stare at the quilt instead, studying the neat stitching and the way the gold thread weaves through the red fabric. At the way the dragons dance.
The silence stretches. You count your own heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. By the sixth, you want the ocean from your vision to swallow you whole so you can escape this embarrassment, realizing that you've misstepped
"They would go away?" His voice is hoarse. Halting. "The visions?
"Yes."
Another silence. This one longer. Heavier. You can feel it pressing down on you like a physical weight. Can feel the way the air in the room has changed, like all the air has been sucked out and replaced with pure pressure. When you risk a glance up at him, he's not looking at you. His gaze is fixed on the blanket, jaw tight and lips pressed together in a thin line. You can see the way his chest rises and falls with each careful breath, can see the tension in his shoulders.
"Are you asking me to take them from you?"
The question lands in silence between you. You say nothing, and when Junhui looks up at you, his gaze is more intense than you remember it, his eyes dark and pupils blown. You swallow thickly, and when he squeezes your hand to push for an answer, you can't speak. You give a tiny, imperceptible nod, nearly shaking as you admit to the unspoken question.
For a moment, nothing happens. Junhui just sits there, his hand in yours, his breathing careful and controlled. You can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. Can see the way his jaw works, like he's trying to force out words that won't come. Can see the conflict written across every line of his face.
Then he pulls his hand away.
Devastation crashes through you, the loss of his touch immediately. He stands and turns away from you, shoulders rigid as he takes two steps toward the door before stopping, his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
"No."
The word comes out hard. Final like a door slamming shut, like the last nail in a coffin.The rejection lands harder than the emperor's slap, and you feel the shame hit you like a physical thing because why would he? Of course he doesn't want you like that, of course he wouldn't abandon his duty. And you are his duty, his burden, a Sacred he's wrong to protect and nothing more.
The shame is crushing. Suffocating. Heat floods your face, your throat, your chest. You can feel it burning through you like fever, like fire, like the aftermath of a vision but worse. So much worse because this pain is your own fault- your own stupid, foolish, desperate mistake.
You want to disappear. To sink into the bed and never emerge. To pull the quilt over your head and suffocate yourself with it. To take back the last five minutes and pretend this conversation never happened. To go back to before, when you could at least pretend that his kindness meant something. That you meant something to him beyond duty.
"I'm sorry," you say quickly. "I shouldn't have, I didn't mean-
"It would be an abuse of my power." Junhui still doesn't turn around. His voice is carefully controlled, but you can hear something underneath it. Something that sounds almost like anguish, maybe. "I'm your guard. You're vulnerable and desperate and I will not take advantage of that."
The words should make you feel better, should reassure you that he's honorable, that he's thinking of your wellbeing, that he's protecting you even from yourself. But all you feel is shame - the kind that is all-consuming and that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. The kind that makes you want to claw at your face until the heat and the humiliation and the desperate, aching want are all gone.
"No, sorry," you rasp. "It's an abuse of my power. I'm the one asking. I'm the one - I'm sorry, Jun. That was awful of me."
Your voice breaks on the words. Cracks down the middle like everything else inside you.
"I'm so sorry. Forget I said anything. Please."
The embarrassment is crushing. Suffocating. You've never felt so small. So foolish. So utterly, completely exposed. You want to disappear and to take back everything you just said and pretend this conversation never happened.
Silence stretches so long that you can hear your own ragged breathing and can feel the tears leaking between your fingers as you press your hands to your face, trying to hide the same and agony there.
Footsteps draw your attention, but you don't lower your hands. You can't even look at him, can't bear to see the pity or disgust on his face. But then his hands are on your wrists, pulling gently.
"Look at me," he murmurs.
You shake your head. Keep your eyes squeezed shut. The tears are flowing freely now, hot tracks down your cheeks, and you've never felt more humiliated in your entire life.
"Please," Junhui whispers. "Look at me."
Something in his voice makes you obey. You open your eyes and find him kneeling beside your bed. His face is level with yours, close enough that you can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. Close enough that you can see the way his own hands are trembling slightly where they hold your wrists.
"Do you have feelings for me?" The question comes out low and soft, his dark eyes searching yours with an urgency that makes your heart skip. "Please be honest."
Your heart hammers against your ribs. This is it. The moment where you could lie. Could protect yourself. Could pretend that this was only ever about the visions, about freedom, about anything other than what it really is.
"Of course I do," you whisper, heart hammering. "You're the only one who sees me as a person. Who treats me like I'm not a tool. I know I'm just your assignment and that you don't care for me that way, but you always-"
Junhui's mouth crashes against yours and the world stops. One hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair while the other frames your jaw gently, careful not to touch the bruise where the emperor struck you.
You gasp against his lips and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss, tasting you like he's been starving for it. Like he's been holding himself back for so long and finally, finally, he can let go.
You've never been kissed before, never been touched like this. It turns you to molten, your hands finding his shoulders to brush up toward his neck, your fingers threading though his hair as you kiss him back with everything you have. He tastes like tea and something spicey, something that makes heat pool low in your belly and makes you want more.
When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps that match your own.
"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your lips. "For so long."
He doesn't pull away. He stays close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, can count each individual eyelash, can see the way his pupils have blown wide with want. His hand is still cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair. The other still frames your jaw with that same careful tenderness, his thumb resting just below the bruise the emperor left.
Your heart is racing. Thundering so hard you're certain he can feel it. Your whole body is trembling, and you can still feel the ghost of his mouth on yours, the pressure and heat of it.
"Then why did you pull away before?" You pant. "Why did you say no?"
"Because I was afraid." He says it so quietly you almost don't hear him. His thumb moves against your jaw, soft and soothing. "I was afraid that if I touched you - that if I gave into the want - that I wouldn't be able to stop and that I would ruin you. That I'd take something from you that you couldn't get back, that I would spoil you and it would be the worst abuse of power I could imagine."
"You wouldn't-"
"I'm a man who wants something he shouldn't have." His eyes burn. "A man who is supposed to protect you, not have you. I could stand feeling for you and resisting - but if you felt the same…"
"I do."
His eyes close briefly, like hearing you say it causes him pain or relief. You cannot tell which. When they open again, there's something raw in them. Something desperate and hopeful and terrified all at once.
And then he kisses you again, softer and slower this time, like he's trying to memorize the taste of you. This kiss is different from the first. Less desperate. More deliberate. He takes his time, exploring your mouth with a patience that makes your whole body flush with heat. His hand slides from your hair down to the nape of your neck, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you shiver.
When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard again. But this time, there's no fear in his eyes. No hesitation. Just want, pure and undisguised for once. His thumb traces your lower lip, and the way he's looking at your mouth is like it wants to kiss you again and again and again.
"If we do this," he says quietly, "there's no going back. You'll lose the visions. The emperor will have no use for you, and you'll be-"
"Free," you cut him off. "I will be free."
You catch the hand that's been tracing your lip and press it against your cheek, turning your face into his palm. His skin is warm against yours, rough with calluses. It's real and solid and everything you've ever wanted - everything you've ever dreamed about.
"I want to be free," you say again. "But I also want you. I've dreamed about it for so long - thought it could only ever be a dream. Nothing more."
Something shifts in his expression. His pupils dilate further until there's barely any brown left behind the want, behind the desire. He looks at you now like you're something to devour, not protect, like you're the only thing in the world that matters. A shiver that has nothing to do with the cold runs down your spine as his hand moves from your cheek to your throat, not squeezing but resting there, feeling the way your pulse thunders under his thumb.
"Are you sure?" His voice is rough and strained. "There's no undoing this. You need to be certain."
"I've never been more certain. Please."
Junhui nods, leaning forward to capture your mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. "Okay," he murmurs against your lips. "Okay."
He stands slowly, and for a moment you think he's leaving and that he's changed his mind. But then he shrugs out of his outer robe, letting it pool on the floor. His hands go to the ties of his inner robe, and you watch, entirely transfixed as he undresses. His body is all lean muscle and old scars, beautiful in the candlelight. Beautiful in a way that makes your mouth go dry and your heart race even faster.
Then he's on the bed with you, carefully moving the quilt aside, his hands finding the ties of your robes. He pauses and looks up at you, his eyes serious. "Tell me if you want me to stop. At any point. Promise me."
"I promise."
He nods and undresses you slowly, peeling back layers of silk with careful attention, his fingers brushing your skin gently. When you're finally bare before him, you expect to feel exposed and vulnerable, but he looks at you like you're something otherworldly, like he cannot imagine what he's seeing.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs. His hand traces the curve of your waist, your hip. "So beautiful."
Junhui leans down and kisses you again, slower and deeper this time, his mouth moving against yours with deliberate intent, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you open for him. The taste of him floods your senses as he cups the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, angling your face so he can kiss you deeper.
A soft moan escapes you and he swallows it, his other hand sliding down your side to trace the curve of your waist and your hip, dropping to your thigh. Each touch leaves fire in its wake. Your skin feels too tight, too hot, like you might combust from the inside out.
When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both breathing hard. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen and wet. He looks at you like he wants to devour you and it lights you up inside. You push closer to him, hands shaking as your fingers trace his forearms, feeling the veins and muscles beneath his warm skin.
"I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs against your lips. His voice is rough. Raw. "I want to learn what makes you gasp. What makes you beg. Can I do that?"
You can barely form words. Can only nod, your heart thundering so hard you're certain he can hear it.
"Use your words," he says softly. His thumb traces your lower lip. "I need to hear you say it."
"Yes." Your voice comes out breathless. Desperate. "Yes, please."
The smile that curves his lips is devastating. "Good."
Then his mouth is on your throat, hot and wet and perfect. He kisses the hollow beneath your jaw, the sensitive spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. His teeth graze your earlobe and you gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. The muscles there are hard beneath your palms, flexing as he moves.
He works his way down, kissing and licking, occasionally biting just hard enough to make you gasp. When he reaches your collarbone, he pauses, his tongue tracing the delicate bone before his teeth close over it gently. The sensation shoots straight between your thighs, and you feel yourself getting wetter.
"Jun-"
"Shh." His breath is hot against your skin. "Let me take care of you."
His mouth moves lower to the swell of your breast, and he kisses the soft skin there, his hand coming up to cup you, his thumb brushing over your nipple. His touch is feather-light but it makes you arch into him, a whine escaping your mouth as you beg for more.
He gives it to you, his mouth closing over a nipple as he sucks gently. You arch into him, the sensation overwhelming as his tongue circles the sensitive peak, flicking over it before his teeth graze it gently. You almost come apart right there, melting.
"That feels- oh Gods-"
"Tell me." His voice is muffled against your breast. "Tell me how it feels."
You can barely think. Can barely form coherent thoughts. "So good. Please don't stop."
He doesn't. He lavishes attention to your chest - sucking, licking, biting - until you're trembling beneath him. You're so wet now you can feel it, the slickness between your thighs and the ache there driving you mad. As if reading your mind, his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin. When he reaches where your thighs are shut tight, he pauses.
"Open for me," he murmurs against your breast.
You do. Spreading your legs, letting him see how wet you are, how much you want him.
"Gods," he growls. "Look at you."
His fingers brush through your folds, his touch light and barely there, but enough to make you gasp. He brings them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he licks them clean and the sight is so hypnotic that you find yourself staring, face flushing with heat as he grins.
"Taste like the Heavens," he murmurs. "Need more."
Before you can process what he means, he's moving down your body, kissing his way down your stomach, your hip bones, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his mouth presses to your core, you nearly scream, his tongue licking through you slowly, parting your wet folds. The pleasure is unlike anything you've ever felt, sharp and overwhelming, and your hands fly into his hair, gripping the dark strands, unsure if you're pulling him closer or away.
"Oh," you gasp. "I can't-"
"Yes, you can." His breath is hot against you. "Just feel it."
His tongue circles your clit gently and your hips twitch to meet his mouth, thighs shaking as your eyes squeeze shut. It feels maddeningly good, and when his tongue starts flicking over your clit directly, you feel the way your breath catches, the way you twitch under him. He holds your hips down to keep you skill, humming lightly as he devours.
And Junhui devours, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on that sensitive spot. Sometimes he sucks on it gently, and the sensation makes you cry out. Sometimes he flicks it rapidly with the tip of his tongue, building the pleasure higher and higher until you think you might die from it. And just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides a finger into your heat and you feel yourself clench hard.
"So tight," he groans. "So perfect. You're going to feel so good around my cock."
The crude words make you clench around his finger. Make more wetness flood between your thighs. He notices, and you can feel him smile against you.
"You like that?" His voice is teasing. Knowing. "You like when I talk dirty to you?"
"Yes." The admission comes out breathy. "Yes, please."
"Please what?" He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the burn is delicious. "Tell me what you want. I'll give you everything."
His fingers curl inside you, finding a spot that makes you see stars. He works you patiently, fingers stroking inside of you, pressing against that spot over and over and over while he sucks gently on your clit, driving you higher and higher.
You're trembling. Shaking. Your hands are fisted in his hair, your hips moving against his mouth despite his attempts to hold you still. The pleasure is so intense it's almost frightening. Like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into the abyss.
The tension that's been building inside you finally snaps and you fall over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, clenching around his fingers, and you cry out his name as pleasure floods through you. It's overwhelming. All-consuming. Wave after wave of sensation that makes your vision go white, makes your whole body shake with the force of it.
Junhui works you through it, his fingers still moving inside you, his mouth still on you, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you're boneless and gasping beneath him.
When you finally come back to yourself, he's kissing his way back up your body. His lips are wet with you, and when he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should be embarrassing - should be shameful - but you don't care, licking into his mouth hungrily, pulling him as close as you can.
Junhui's hand slides between your thighs again, and despite the orgasm you just had, your body responds. Arching into his touch. Seeking more. He positions himself between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and even through the haze of pleasure, you feel a flutter of nervousness. He's big. Bigger than his fingers. And you're not sure-
"Look at me." You do. His eyes are dark and intense, but soft and entirely focused on you. "We'll go slow. If it's too much, if you need me to stop, you tell me, understand?"
You nod. "Yes. I understand."
"Good." He kisses you again, soft and reassuring. "I've got you."
Then he's pushing in slowly - so slowly - the stretch is immediate and intense. More than his fingers, more than you expected and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders, fingers sliding against his sweaty skin as your nails dig in.
He stops immediately. "Breathe. Just breathe."
You do. Deep breaths that help your body relax, help you adjust to the intrusion. After a moment, the burn eases slightly, and you nod. He pushes in another inch. Then another. The stretch intensifies, bordering on painful, and you whimper.
"I know." His forehead rests against yours. His whole body is trembling with the effort of holding still, of going slow. "I know it hurts. But you're doing so well. Taking me so perfectly."
The praise helps. Makes you want to be good for him, makes you want to take all of him. You breathe through the burn, through the stretch, and slowly your body adjusts. He steals another kiss from you as he sinks to the hilt, distracting you with his tongue and the way he groans into your mouth.
When he breaks the kiss, he's pressed as deep as he can go, the feeling so full and so good you can barely breathe. Junhui is just as affected, panting and shivering as he drops his head to gaze where you're joined, letting out a curse.
"You feel so good," he pants. "Like you were made for me."
You clench around him experimentally, and he groans, his hips jerking involuntarily. It feels good to squeeze down, a sensation you'd never imagined, and you do it again, a small little sound leaving your lips as he groans again.
"Don't," he rasps. "Don't do that or I won't last."
"I want you to feel good too," you whisper. Your hands slide down his back, feeling the hard muscles there, the way they flex and shift as he holds himself still. "I want to make you feel the way you made me feel."
"You do." He kisses you, tongues tangling briefly before he breaks the kiss to press his lips against your jawline. "You have no idea what you do to me. How long I've wanted this. Wanted you."
"Then have me."
Junhui lets out a desperate sound but nods, his hips starting to move slowly. It makes you gasp, the friction intense and the drag of his cock inside you so good. The pain has faded completely now, replaced by pleasure that builds faster than you can keep up with.
You wrap your legs around his waist, taking him deeper, and he groans into your shoulder. The angle changes and suddenly he's hitting something inside you, that same spot that makes the world spin and the pleasure spark right behind your eyelids.
"There," you gasp. "Right there, please."
"I know." His voice is rough. Strained. "I can feel you clenching around me. So tight. So perfect."
He picks up the pace, still careful but full of urgency now, thrusting deeper until you can feel yourself climbing toward another peak. His hand slides between your bodies and finds your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming, both too much and not enough and too everything.
The pleasure crests until it breaks and your second orgasm hits you harder than the first, your body clenching and spasming as you cry out his name. It's more intense than before, more overwhelming, like every nerve ending in your body is firing at once.
Seeing you lose it is all it takes for him. He buries himself deep as he can do and you feel the pulse of him inside of you as he comes, his entire body going rigid, every muscle locked tight as he whimpers a broken sound in the shape of your name.
He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, and for a long moment neither of you moves. You just hold each other, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. You can feel him still pulsing inside you, can feel the warmth of his release, and the realization that it's real and not a fantasy anymore makes your eyes sting with unshed tears.
Carefully, he pulls out. You both wince at the sensation but he's gentle, rolling to the side and pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You can feel his heart racing, and his lips press against your brow, soft and sweet while his fingers trace patterns on your spine.
"I'm taking you away from here," Junhui says eventually.
You lift your head to look at him. "What?"
"Tonight, if possible. Tomorrow at the latest. Somewhere the emperor can't reach you. Somewhere you can be free."
"Junhui, you can't - your position-"
"I don't care." He cups your face in both hands. "You are sacred to me. Not because of your visions or your gift. Because of who you are. And I'm not willing to share you anymore. Not with the emperor. Not with the court. Not with anyone."
Your breath catches. "You'd give up everything? For me?"
"I already have." He kisses you softly. "The moment I stepped between you and the emperor, I chose you. There's no going back from that. So we go forward. Together."
"Where will we go?"
"East to the river provinces. I have family there who owe me favors. They'll hide us until we can figure out something more permanent." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. "You'll have a life beyond the throne room. Beyond the visions. I promise you that."
Tears spill over. For the first time in your life, you feel safe - not because of prophecy or position, but because someone has chosen you for you. Because Junhui has chosen you over everything else.
"You wanted to be no one," Junhui whispers. "You can be no one to everything else. But to me, you are everything. You are not the Sacred - you're just sacred to me."
You nod, throat tight. "I would like that."
You fall asleep in his arms, and for once, there are no visions waiting in the darkness. No prophecies. No futures written in blood and fire. Just nothing, exactly like you asked for.
SYNOPSIS ✧˖° for several generations, there’s been bad blood between two competing families running ancestral firms in the shipbuilding business. when an accident happens during a joint venture, the families are forced to work together to cover it up, and what better way to do so than with an unexpected marriage?
TAGS ✧˖° arranged marriage/fake dating, explicit sexual content, dilf!mingyu, age gap (20s + 40s), funny thing is this was supposed to be more porn than plot but i got carried away and made them lovers™ instead
♫ ✧˖° private by the nbhd ✧ tube by ethel cain ✧ freak by lana del rey
YOU ARE YOUR FATHER’S DAUGHTER. you’ve heard it plenty of times throughout your life.
stand-offish, detached, decorum-obsessed. you and your older brother are carbon copies of the man who raised you, his norms and values remaining imprinted in your heads. not that your mother’s any different.
what you clearly care about most in life is two things: money and status.
luckily, you were born into a prominent, wealthy family that allowed you to have both of those things. your grandparents founded a shipbuilding company that’s grown to be one of the largest in the world, and to this day, the company is still in your family’s hands.
your father, as the ceo, sits at the helm of the company. your mother is a private equity investor, a terrifyingly good one. your brother, wonwoo, is about five years older than you and set to take over your dad’s position as soon as he retires.
being the second-born means ranking lower in the pecking order. not that you really mind — you work hard, you deliver good results, and you already know a stellar position in the company is waiting for you as soon as wonwoo becomes the man in charge.
your family is known to drive business more ruthlessly than others. a stark contrast to the family business that’s posed the biggest threat to yours for multiple generations now.
kim mingyu leads his family’s company in a way you never would. close personal relationships with their staff, dressed relatively casually for a ceo, radiating nothing but warmth and approachability.
your father believes it’s the main reason they’ll never make as much money as you, even if most people in the same business has always spoken rather highly of them.
where the competition between your two companies came from or what led up to it, you don’t know, but it was already there when your grandparents were still running things. something personal, clearly.
and, as it turns out, old habits really do die hard. it’s the main reason you’ve been hostile to each other for so long.
though, in all fairness, it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. most of your current rivalry has been reduced to mere dirty glances, low blows, bad mouthing one another and trying to take each other’s clients. not professional, no, but a necessary evil sometimes.
one of the clients of theirs you tried to poach from them — a man of solid status, who both your families tried your hardest to impress — decided he simply couldn’t choose which of the two companies he wanted to get into business with. so to your worst nightmare, he put out the idea for a joint venture. since the profit and other benefits from the proposal were too good to turn down, both kim mingyu and your father agreed to it.
in hindsight, however, you kind of wish you hadn’t.
four months into your partnership, an accident occurred on one of the wharfs. a result of gross negligence that could be blamed on either of your families, and as it turns out, you might not be the only ones aware of it.
which brings you to your current situation — an emergency meeting between the only people allowed to hear of it.
“we have footage of a person taking evidence. for all we know, it could be an employee. it’s too delicate to see the light of day,” your father says.
wonwoo steals a look at you from under his thick-rimmed glasses before turning back to the paperwork in front of him.
mingyu sighs, one hand supporting his chin, that silver ring he always wears on his pinky glistening in the sunlight that’s shining through the windows. “yes, and we’re gathered here because you said you had an idea how to handle it.”
“we talked with our lawyers, who ended up advising the old-fashioned approach,” wonwoo begins, twirling the navy ballpen sitting between his thumb and index finger. “people love a new subject to talk about, right? simple gossip easily becomes the talk of the town. like a relationship, for example.”
mingyu’s sister, coo of their company, raises a brow. “between who?”
“someone from your family, with someone from ours.”
“i’d agree, except most of us are spoken for,” she adds, gesturing to the ring on her finger.
it’s a fair point. your parents are married, your brother engaged, mingyu’s sister is also married. which, technically, leaves him, and—
he appears genuinely confused for a moment — until his eyes meet yours.
for someone with such a presence, you know exactly how to draw attention to yourself at the right moment without saying a word. you shoot him a catlike smile, waiting for him to figure it out, full-on smirking once the realization visibly dawns on his face.
“are you implying what i think you’re implying?” mingyu asks, his mouth running dry.
“unless you’ve got some secret younger brother walking around somewhere, yes, it’s gonna be you and me.”
he’s baffled that you’re being so casual about it. “and you’re happy with this?”
a question you don’t hear quite often. still, you pay it little mind.
“well, it was my idea,” you cross your arms, immediately speaking up again once you catch those raised brows of his. “don’t flatter yourself. you’re the last man i’d willingly take to be my husband under normal circumstances.”
mingyu shakes his head. “this is deranged.”
“look, think of the damage it would do to both our reputations if the press got a hold of it,” wonwoo cuts in, folding his hands together. “it wouldn’t be permanent. how about a three-year contract? you can claim to be a private couple, you just gotta show your faces together every once in a while to keep up appearances. once three years have passed, file for divorce. it’d probably fly by.”
the idea isn’t unheard of, he’s aware of that. plenty of pr firms are very much in favor of fake relationships, even fake marriages. it’s one of the things he dislikes about that circle of society his job has forcibly put him in.
and now that he’s thinking about it, the press would have a fucking field trip with this relationship. he’s gotten media attention for his good looks before, and he knows you’re quite popular as well, having acquired a bit of a socialite status — in the eyes of any pr agency, you’d be a perfect match.
still, mingyu stares at you, his lips parted, brows knitted in something awfully close to horror, choosing to voice his thoughts; the elephant in the room.
“and how old are you, again?” he hears himself ask, the question almost rhetorical. he could’ve sworn you were, what, twenty-five? twenty-four?
“twenty-three,” you answer curtly, at which his eyes widen.
christ. as if this couldn’t possibly get any worse.
you’re just so… young. too young. an adult, obviously, but still. he’s got no business being married to some girl your age at forty-one. the press will undoubtedly agree. hell, they’ll make a full-blown scandal out of it.
he’s pulled out of his thoughts once more when he hears that low, silky voice of yours. “if it’s any consolation, i’ll be twenty-four by the time we get married.”
finding your eyes again, he feels struck by you.
god, look at you, for christ’s sake. you might as well be a porcelain doll — flawless makeup, dangly pearl earrings, bouncy princess-like curls, clothes tailored perfectly to your body.
sure, he thinks you’re a pretty girl. he’s not blind. but your beauty hides a design; it’s a shame the rest of the world can’t see you for who you really are. the same goes for the rest of your picture-perfect family.
“if i were to agree to something like this,” he hesitantly begins, “we’d have to make it believable. a public outing every two months wouldn’t cut it. we’d have to commit to it, live together, even do public displays of affection—”
again, he meets your gaze, this time to gauge your reaction. you’re as unimpressed as ever, shrugging your shoulders before taking a sip of your water. does he really think you didn’t come up with that already?
“we have an estate just on the city border. secluded, big enough to lead your own lives,” your father suggests. “people would be none the wiser.”
a mere glimpse of his sister’s expression is enough for him to know she doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, and with that in mind, he bites his lower lip, putting the company’s best interests above his own.
“i’ll consider it. send over the paperwork. you’ll have my answer by friday.”
it’s a good enough answer for now. you all shake hands, and when your father and brother exit the conference room, mingyu gestures for his sister to escort them to the entrance, making sure you stay behind.
you’re still seated several spots away from him, symbolizing how big the distance is between you. today marks, what, the second time you’ve talked to him? the third time? you’re practically strangers to one another. all you’ve ever done is watch each other from the sidelines.
emphasizing the extent of the possible future agreement again, he says, “you know that a couple of pictures for the press wouldn’t cut it. we’d have to make it look real.”
your voice sounds less cutting this time. “i’m a great actress, y’know.”
a scoff leaves his mouth. “i don’t doubt it.”
“so what’s on your mind?” you ask, fingers itching with the growing urge to crack him open. maybe it’s the fact that he’s not scared to speak his mind, not afraid of a little honesty — it’s a hard quality to find in the people around you these days.
“we’d be exclusive for three years. no under-the-radar affairs, they always get out.”
all you do is shrug.
he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “and your dad’s completely fine with you living in the same house as a man nearly twice your age?”
his choice of words cause you to tilt your head. “well, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea. but it’s the company above everything else, at the end of the day. besides,” you push a little, “i’m sure you’ll behave like a perfect gentleman, won’t you?”
there’s a soundless chuckle rolling past his lips. he answers your rhetorical question with a simple nod of his head.
not like you expected a different answer from him anyway.
you get up from your seat, extending your hand to him. his dark eyes swiftly look you up and down fully now that he’s got you standing in front of him in all your glory.
he rises from his seat, drawing your attention to his striking height and broad shoulders. when he shakes your hand, both of you maintaining eye contact a little longer than necessary, he wonders what the hell that prominent feeling sitting deep in his gut is — or more importantly, why you’re making him feel it.
thanks for reading! x
this is currently a work in progress. if you’d like to be tagged once the full fic comes out, let me know in the comments <3
You wake up to a city that has completely stopped moving, cars frozen in the middle of the road and streets empty like everyone just disappeared overnight. When you find a newspaper dated yesterday with the headline “TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY,” you keep it even though it feels ridiculous, because it’s the only thing that suggests time didn’t break for no reason. You spend weeks living in your own thoughts before you run into a man at the newspaper stand. A real man. As the two of you try to understand what happened, you start to realize the world only holds itself together when you’re together and you both wouldn't want it any other way.
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader
Genre: sci-fi-ish, angst, true love, dystopian-ish world, NO SMUT!, wonwoo is so whipped for her, happy ending!, true love, found lovers, lost souls, right person right time, idiots in love, awwww love love love love
Word Count: 11.6k
Warnings/Things to make note of!: mention of suicide attempts, mention of abandonment, mention of abuse, heavy topics, use of perscription medication, anxiety, angst, panic attacks, i dont know if im missing anything but let me know LOL
A/N: hello!!! This is such a different story for me, i did a lot of unnecssisary scientific research for this story because i wanted to tap into the sci-fi elements in it! This is like loosely kinda sorta based off of the last of us / a quiet place like that kinda vibe. Wonwoo is such a sweetheart in this too like omfg im melting help. Anyway i hope you love it im really proud of it! i also didnt proof read oopsies sorryyyY!
The thing that you gave but never seemed to get back. The thing your mother said she hated you gave too much of, before she left.
You couldn’t help but blame yourself for her leaving. You were overzealous, ambitious, she wanted no part of the big life you had planned for yourself.
Abandonment.
After your mom, your dad cut contact. You never got along with him, he hated you from the start. It was better off this way.
Or at least, that was the story you told yourself.
When there was nothing left to hold you where you were, you packed what little mattered and moved to the city. You told everyone it was for opportunity, for work, for the future. The truth was less inspiring. You left because every street carried a memory, every familiar face knew a version of you that you couldn't stand to look at anymore. The city was loud enough to drown out the echoes.
Deep down, beneath the ambition and stubborn determination, there was a hatred you never spoke about. Not for your parents. Not for the town. For yourself. You would never admit it out loud, never give it shape with words, because saying it would make it real. So you buried it instead. You carried it quietly through every achievement, every stupid relationship, every sleepless night. It sat inside you like a slow poison burning you inside out, unseen by everyone but you.
There were years when the weight of it nearly won. Years marked by hospital rooms, rehabilitation, concerned voices, and moments you rarely allowed yourself to remember. More than once, you had tried to disappear entirely, convinced the world would keep turning without noticing the absence. Somehow, you survived each attempt, though survival never felt like victory. It felt like being handed another day you weren't sure you wanted.
So you ran.
Not because you believed a new city could heal you, but because distance was the closest thing to mercy you knew. If you couldn't become someone new, maybe you could at least leave the old version behind. The girl who spent her nights wondering why she wasn't enough. The girl who blamed herself for every goodbye. The girl who looked in the mirror and saw someone impossible to love.
You left her there, or at least you tried to.
April 16, 2026. You woke up late.
Sunlight spilled through the blinds, warming the floor beside your bed. Your head throbbed faintly, full of memories from the night you spent alone prior. For a few seconds, everything felt normal. Another workday. Another morning spent pretending you were someone who belonged here.
You reached for your phone. Dead. The screen stayed black no matter how many times you pressed the power button.
"Great."
You rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the kitchen. Something felt off, quiet.
The neighbors upstairs weren't stomping around. Nobody was arguing in the hallway. No distant sirens drifted through the city air. No music from the apartment next door.
Nothing.
You frowned and walked to the window.
The city beyond the glass stole the breath from your lungs.
Cars sat motionless in the middle of intersections. A city bus was frozen halfway through a turn, blocking multiple lanes at an awkward angle. Near the curb, a discarded coffee cup lay on its side while dark liquid hung suspended in the air beside it, droplets frozen as if time itself had forgotten to let them fall.
The street was empty.
Not early-morning empty.
Not holiday empty.
Empty. No pedestrians. No drivers. No movement anywhere.
And no sound. That was what truly terrified you.
A complete and unnatural silence that pressed against your ears until your own heartbeat sounded impossibly loud.
Within minutes, you were outside. The apartment lobby stood abandoned. The front desk sat unattended. The revolving door groaned beneath your push before releasing you into a city that looked less like reality and more like a photograph.
You started walking. Then jogging. Then running.
"Hello?"
No answer.
You searched block after block. Restaurants stood open with meals left unfinished. Storefronts remained unlocked. Traffic lights cycled endlessly above empty roads. It looked as though the entire world had been interrupted in the middle of a sentence.
Then, finally, you saw someone.
A figure stood at the far end of a crosswalk. Your chest tightened with relief.
A person. An actual person.
"Hey!"
The figure remained still.
You broke into a sprint. "Hey! Wait!"
At the sound of your voice, they turned.
For a moment, you thought you saw their face.
Then reality came apart.
Their features twisted and distorted like a corrupted video file. Their body fragmented into jagged pieces that flickered in and out of existence. The image of them stretched, warped, and collapsed as though something unseen was struggling to render them correctly.
You stumbled to a stop.
The figure glitched once. Twice. Then vanished.
One moment they were standing there.
The next, they simply weren't, as if they had never existed at all.
The crosswalk stood empty, the city remained silent.
And for the first time since waking up, you felt genuine fear.
Because this wasn't an evacuation.
It was something wrong with reality itself.
You ran back to your apartment, panic setting into your chest rapidly.
The empty crosswalk blurred beneath your feet as you sprinted through silent streets. Every reflection in every darkened window made your pulse spike. Every shadow looked wrong. By the time you reached your apartment building, your lungs burned and your hands were shaking so badly you nearly dropped your keys.
"Get it together."
The words came out breathless.
You slammed the apartment door behind you and locked it. Then locked it again.
The panic attack arrived like an old friend. Your chest tightened. Your heartbeat accelerated. The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot. Too loud despite the silence.
"No. No. No."
You knew the routine. You'd learned it years ago. Before the city. Before the new life. Before you'd convinced yourself the past was buried.
You stumbled into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and grabbed the orange prescription bottle waiting exactly where it always was. The familiar rattle was strangely comforting.
One pill. A glass of water. A shaking hand.
Routine. The same ritual you'd repeated so many times it no longer felt alarming. Just maintenance.
Eventually your breathing slowed.
Your thoughts followed. You sat on the edge of your bed staring at the wall for nearly an hour before making a decision.
Sleep.
This had to be a dream. A breakdown. Some bizarre neurological event.
You pulled the curtains shut, crawled beneath the blankets, and forced your eyes closed.
When you woke up, the sunlight had shifted. Your phone was still dead. The apartment was still silent. And outside the window, the coffee still hung in the air.
Exactly where you had left it when you closed your eyes. Reality hadn't fixed itself.
Whatever had happened was still happening.
The next time you went outside, you moved carefully. You stopped yelling for help. Stopped expecting answers. Instead, you started looking for information.
What day was it? What time was it? What had happened?
The city offered nothing.
Days passed. Or what you assumed were days.
Without working phones, broadcasts, internet, or people, time became slippery. You tracked it with sunrise and sunset and marks scratched into the wall beside your bed.
On what you estimated was the fourth or fifth day, you found the newspaper stand.
Most of the papers had spilled onto the sidewalk.
At first you almost ignored them.
Then something caught your eye.
The date.
August 16, 2026.
You grabbed another copy. Every paper dated August 16, 2026.
For the first time since waking up in the silent city, you'd found something current. Something recent. Something connected to the last normal day on Earth.
You unfolded the nearest copy. The headline stretched across the front page in absurdly large letters.
TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY
You stared at it.
Then laughed.
The sound startled you. It was the first time you'd heard yourself laugh in days.
"What kind of stupid headline is that?"
It looked like one of those ridiculous human-interest stories newspapers ran when nothing important was happening. The kind of article people skimmed while drinking coffee before forgetting it existed five minutes later.
But your smile faded as your eyes drifted back to the date.
Carefully, you folded the paper and tucked it beneath your arm.
Not because you believed the headline. Not because you thought it meant anything.
But because it was a piece of the last day. A message in a bottle from a world that no longer existed. That night, back in your apartment, you read the article.
Then you read it again. And again. Not searching for truth, just searching for something human. Something alive.
In the weeks that followed, the newspaper never left your side. You carried it through empty streets. Kept it beside your bed while you slept. Read it whenever the silence became unbearable.
The folds softened. The corners bent. The ink slowly faded beneath your fingers.
Yet somehow, it became the closest thing you had to company.
You called your mother despite knowing she wouldn't answer. You called your father despite not speaking to him in years. You left voicemails. Sent texts. Called again. Then again. When that failed, you started driving. You drove through every district of the city, screaming for people through rolled-down windows. You searched hospitals, police stations, subway tunnels, government buildings, office towers, anywhere an explanation might be hiding. You kicked in locked doors. Pulled open emergency exits. Dug through abandoned desks and filing cabinets.
You found nothing.
No notes. No warnings. No evidence anyone understood what had happened. Just absence.
The second week became survival.
The panic burned itself out and practical concerns took over. Food. Water. Electricity.
You started treating grocery stores like your own pantry. The first time you took supplies, you left cash at the register. It felt wrong not to. The second time you did the same thing. The third time too.
Then one afternoon, while setting a twenty-dollar bill beside an abandoned cash register, you stopped.
You stared at the money.
The money stared back.
"Who's taking it?"
Nobody.
Nobody was counting inventory. Nobody was checking security cameras. Nobody was here.
You left the bill there anyway. The next day you didn't. For some reason, that hurt more than breaking into the store.
The third week became experimentation. If there was a cause, there had to be a solution. You spent days trying to force reality to react.
You shut down sections of the power grid and turned them back on. You moved frozen vehicles from intersections. You smashed clocks. Collected watches. Compared timestamps. Stayed awake for nearly forty-eight hours. Slept through entire days. Read scientific journals. Religious texts. Philosophy books. Cached conspiracy forums on dead computers.
Nothing worked. Nothing changed.
The coffee still floated in the street. The city remained silent.
The fourth week was acceptance.
Not peace. Just acceptance.
You stopped expecting answers. Instead, you built routines.
The apartment building across the street became Marley. The abandoned bank became Kim. The bookstore with the shattered front window became Greg.
Every morning, you greeted them. Talking to buildings should have felt insane.
Instead, it helped.
The silence felt smaller when someone was speaking, even if that someone was you.
Every morning, you visited the same coffee shop. The machines still worked. You made the same drink. Sat at the same table. Stared through the same window. Not because coffee mattered. Because routine mattered. Routine made you feel human.
The newspaper became part of the routine too. Every night before bed, you unfolded it.
TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY.
The headline had become burned into your memory. You reread the article so many times you practically knew every sentence by heart. The smiling faces in the photographs. The ridiculous optimism.
You didn't believe it, but it was the only thing in the world connected to the last normal day.
So you kept reading.
Some nights you searched for hidden meanings. Other nights you laughed at yourself.
"Maybe the answer really is true love."
The joke never landed.
There was nobody around to hear it.
And during that month, strange things kept happening. Every few days, you would see someone. A figure standing at the end of a street. A silhouette reflected in a storefront window. A person waiting at a bus stop. Always distant. Always alone. Your heart would leap into your throat every single time.
At first you ran after them. Always. The result never changed. The figure would disappear before you arrived. Sometimes they vanished around corners. Sometimes they flickered first. Sometimes their bodies distorted like damaged footage before collapsing into nothing.
Once, you watched a man standing beneath a traffic light fragment into static and disappear so completely it felt like your brain had imagined him.
After enough encounters, you stopped running immediately, because disappointment was exhausting.
But deep down, a part of you wondered if someone else was out there.
Someone who hadn't disappeared. Someone who was seeing the same impossible things. Someone who was still surviving. You just hadn't found them yet.
The worst part wasn't the fear anymore. It was the isolation.
You had spent most of your life convincing yourself you preferred being alone. You told yourself people left eventually, so it was safer not to need them too much.
Now you understood the difference between being alone and being the only person in existence. The silence wasn't peaceful, it was suffocating.
You talked to yourself more than you would like to admit. To the non-existent people in the driver’s seats of cars, the humans in the ads in store windows.
One afternoon you spent nearly twenty minutes telling a mannequin about your childhood before realizing what you were doing.
You laughed. Then cried. Then laughed again. The line between the two was becoming difficult to find. The thoughts you'd spent years outrunning started catching up.
Old thoughts, old habits, old wounds. The version of yourself you had tried so hard to leave behind when you moved to the city began resurfacing piece by piece.
You remembered hospital rooms. Therapists. Long nights spent fighting your own mind. You remembered what it felt like to hate yourself. Really hate yourself.
Some days the loneliness became so overwhelming you found yourself slipping back into destructive patterns of thinking you hadn't struggled with in years. It scared you how familiar they felt, as though those parts of you had never truly disappeared.
You'd sit on the floor of your apartment staring at nothing for hours hoping you would regret the things you had done. The newspaper resting in your lap. The headline staring back.
TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY.
"What does that even fucking mean?" You laugh lightly to yourself, smile on your face tears streaming from your eyes.
Manic.
That's what the psychiatrist said to you in middle school. You were manic. Destructive.
And now you were feeling the exact same way. You were being handed another day you knew you didn’t want.
The seasons still changed. Somehow, everything natural kept obeying its rules. Trees filled out with leaves. Light lingered longer in the evenings. The air softened in a way the frozen city never could.
But the city itself never moved.
You were exhausted by now. Not in the way sleep could fix.
Something deeper had worn you down—days of searching every possible place, every office, every station, every building that might hold an answer. There were none. Only silence. Only absence.
So you walked again. Same route. Same habit. Same pull toward the newspaper stand you no longer believed would change.
Not hope. Just routine.
The folded paper was still tucked under your arm. The same headline you’d memorized weeks ago. TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY. You didn’t even look at it anymore. You just carried it because it was something that still belonged to the world that used to exist.
The stand came into view at the end of the street.
And you stopped.
Someone was there.
A man stood with his back to you, completely unaware of you. He was reading a newspaper from the stand, holding it casually in both hands. He didn’t flicker. Didn’t distort. He was just… there.
Your breath caught painfully in your chest.
Slowly, carefully, you moved forward. Each step felt louder than it should have in the silence. You didn’t call out. You didn’t risk it. You stopped just behind him.
Your hand lifted.
You hesitated.
Then you placed it gently on his shoulder.
Warm. Solid. Human.
Under your palm, you could feel him immediately—the weight of muscle, the tension of a living body, the undeniable fact of someone occupying space in the same world as you.
Real.
The moment your hand made contact, he whipped around.
“Hey—!”
It was sharp. Instinctive. Startled.
He stumbled back into you without meaning to, and the sudden movement knocked you off balance. Your feet slipped and you fell hard onto the pavement, breath punching out of your lungs as the impact echoed too loudly in the empty street.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then you looked up.
He was standing over you, breathing fast. Chest rising and falling sharply like he couldn’t decide whether to run or fight. Shaggy black hair slightly messed from the sudden turn. Perfect glasses still somehow sitting straight on his face. A black shirt clinging slightly from tension, dirty jeans scuffed like he’d been living through the same abandoned world for just as long as you had.
His eyes locked onto yours.
And neither of you disappeared.
That realization hit both of you at once.
His voice came first, cautious, broken with disbelief.
“…You’re real.”
It wasn’t a question.
You swallowed, still sitting on the ground. “So are you.”
He stared harder, like he was trying to find the trick. “No, that’s not—” He stopped, shaking his head once. “I’ve been alone. For weeks. Months. I don’t even know anymore.”
Your laugh came out uneven. “Yeah. Same.”
A pause.
The silence between you felt different now. Not empty. Just heavy.
He slowly crouched down a little, still not fully trusting what he was seeing. “You touched me.”
“I had to,” you said quietly. “Everything else… disappears.”
His expression tightened at that. “I know.”
That made you freeze slightly. “You’ve seen them too?”
He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking briefly past you down the empty street. “People. Figures. Whatever they are. They don’t stay. They glitch, or vanish, or… I don’t know. Like the world rejects them.”
Your throat tightened. “Same.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke again.
Finally, he shifted his weight, still crouched slightly in front of you. “I thought I was the last one.”
Your voice came softer than you expected. “I thought I was too.” You felt tears prick at your eyes.
Behind him, the newspaper still lay half-unfolded on the stand, pages rustling slightly in a breeze that felt suddenly too real.
Neither of you were alone in it. You knew that now.
You brought him to the coffee shop without really thinking about it. It was just where you went. Every morning. Same route, same silence, same routine that had started to feel less like comfort and more like something you were trapped inside of. He followed you through the frozen streets without asking questions.
Inside the café, nothing had changed. It never did. You moved behind the counter automatically, muscle memory taking over as you made two coffees. The machine hissed and clicked in a way that felt almost too loud now that there was someone else here to hear it. When you turned around, he was sitting near the counter, posture a little too straight, hands loosely folded, eyes tracking you whenever he thought you weren’t looking.
You noticed it immediately. Every time you glanced away, his gaze flicked toward you, quick and careful, like he was still half-expecting you to glitch out of existence the way everything else in this world eventually did. And you hated that you were doing the same thing. Watching him. Checking. Making sure he was still real.
Eventually, you walked over and sat down across from him. Then, after a second of hesitation, you shifted your chair closer instead of staying across the table. The distance suddenly felt unnecessary.
Neither of you spoke for a while.
Just looked.
It wasn’t comfortable silence. It was the kind that came from too much disbelief packed into too little time.
Finally, he let out a breath and leaned back slightly. “Okay,” he said quietly, like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “This is… actually insane.”
A small laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”
His eyes stayed on you for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded once, like he’d made a decision. “I’m Wonwoo.”
You hesitated for half a second, like saying your name out loud would make this real in a way you weren’t ready for. “Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated softly, like he was testing how it sounded in a world that had almost forgotten how to say anything at all.
Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn notebook and a pen. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just… natural, like this was something he’d been doing for a long time. The notebook looked overused in a way that made you realize he hadn’t just been surviving this alone, he’d been working through it.
He opened it and slid it slightly toward you.
Pages filled with equations, diagrams, timing logs, maps of the city, notes layered over notes. Some pages were carefully structured, almost elegant in their logic. Others were frantic, overwritten, like they belonged to nights where he hadn’t slept in too long.
“I tried to treat it like a system,” he said, tapping a page with the pen, voice calm but tired in a very specific way, like someone who had explained this to himself so many times he could no longer tell where certainty ended and coping began. “At first I thought it was some kind of temporal stasis field or perception lock. Then I tried entropy mapping, then gravitational inconsistency models, then—” he paused briefly, almost embarrassed, “I even tried tracking decay rates of ambient objects to see if anything was still aging normally.”
He glanced up at you quickly, like he was checking if that was too much. Then added, softer, “Nothing worked.”
He flipped a page. More notes. More spirals of logic.
“I kept thinking if I just added one more variable, it would click,” he said. “Like the world was a puzzle I hadn’t assembled correctly yet.” A faint, almost sheepish exhale left him. “At some point I realized I was just… documenting my own breakdown with better handwriting.”
There was a small pause. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his messy black hair, glasses catching the light as he did. He looked annoyingly put together for someone who was describing the end of the world, like his brain had decided chaos still needed structure.
“I’ve been feeling absolutely fucking insane,” he admitted more honestly now, voice quieter. “Like I was the only person left who didn’t freeze, and maybe I just… wasn’t processing it right.”
His eyes flicked to you again, sharper this time, but not in accusation. More like curiosity mixed with relief he didn’t fully trust yet.
“And then you were just there,” he said. “So I guess either I’m not crazy… or we’re both equally crazy.”
A beat.
Then, almost awkwardly, like he hated how sincere it sounded, he added, “I’m leaning toward the first option.”
You took the notebook more carefully than you meant to, like it might still be tied to the strange rules of the world itself. The paper felt worn in a way that made it obvious he’d been using it constantly—pages softened at the edges, ink layered in different pressures, some sections neat and structured, others messy from long nights of thinking too much.
As you flipped through it, your expression slowly changed. At first it was curiosity, then confusion, then something closer to disbelief. He wasn’t just guessing. He had actually been trying to understand it in a structured way.
You frowned slightly, flipping another page. “This doesn’t make sense,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “How did none of this lead anywhere?”
That was what unsettled you. Not that he was wrong, but that he had been this thorough and still ended up with nothing concrete.
You lowered the notebook and finally looked up.
Wonwoo was already watching you.
His expression had shifted while you were reading. Still cautious, but softer now. Concern threaded through it in a way that felt uncomfortably gentle. His eyes moved over your face like he was trying to figure out whether what you were seeing was helping you or breaking you further.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
It wasn’t intrusive. Just careful.
You closed the notebook a little too quickly and slid it back toward him. “Yeah,” you said too fast, then corrected yourself, forcing it steadier, “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.
You shifted slightly, needing something else to focus on. “I’m from North City,” you said.
That got his attention immediately.
“North City?” he repeated.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He leaned back slightly, processing it. “I’m from South City,” he said after a beat, like he was double-checking it in his head. “Grew up there.”
That landed between you in a strange way. Like geography still mattered even when reality didn’t.
“So…” he added quietly, eyes flicking up to you again, “you weren’t that far.”
You gave a small, uncertain shrug. “Doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.”
“It does to me.” He gives a light, charming smile.
You didn’t argue. He looked at you for a moment longer, quieter now, and you realized, uncomfortably, that while you had been reading his work, he had been trying to read you too.
At first it was careful—small questions, fragments of back-and-forth about the city, about routines, about what life had been like before everything stopped. Then it drifted into everything and nothing at once. Random thoughts, shared observations, ridiculous theories that didn’t need to be true just to be said out loud. A few light laughs slipped in without either of you really noticing at first. Then more. It felt strange, almost disorienting, how natural it was to talk to someone again.
There was a point where the exhaustion and loneliness seemed to blur at the edges, replaced by something warmer, almost intoxicating in its own way. Like your brains were overcorrecting for weeks of silence, suddenly flooding you both with noise that wasn’t empty. You both started laughing harder at things that probably weren’t that funny, until it spiraled into genuine fits of laughter neither of you could really control.
Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, still catching his breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “You are really funny, you know?” he said, smiling in a way that looked unpracticed but real. “How did I never stumble upon you in the city?”
You let out a breathy laugh, shrugging. “I don’t know. Guess we just missed each other.”
He tilted his head slightly, still looking at you like he was trying to make sure you were actually there. Then, a little softer, a little braver, he added, “And you’re really pretty too.”
You blinked at him for a second, caught completely off guard. The fluster came too fast to hide, creeping into your face before you could stop it. “No one’s ever been that forward with me before,” you admitted, half-laughing as you looked away for a moment like it might reset your brain. Then, quieter but still smiling, you added, “You’re… kind of pretty too, actually.”
That did it.
For a second there was silence, and then both of you broke at the same time, laughter spilling out awkward and genuine, building on itself until it turned into something almost uncontrollable. It felt ridiculous and light in a way neither of you had felt in a very long time, like your bodies had forgotten how to do anything except exist in that moment.
Eventually, it settled, the laughter fading into soft breaths.
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, still smiling a little. “Where did you grow up?”
The shift was subtle, but you felt it immediately. Something in your expression changed before you even answered. The air didn’t feel as light anymore.
“About five states over,” you said slowly, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “I left because I needed a fresh start.”
He didn’t interrupt. Just listened.
You hesitated, then kept going anyway, like once the words started they didn’t really belong to you anymore. “My mom left when I was younger. Said I was… too much, I guess. My dad cut contact after that. I don’t really blame him.” You gave a small, humorless breath. “After that it was just… endless nights. Hospitals. Mental rehab stays. More hospital visits. Trying to get through one day at a time without everything falling apart.”
The words hung in the space between you.
Wonwoo went quiet.
Not awkwardly. Just… still. Like he hadn’t expected you to hand him something that heavy so easily.
You looked down at the table, suddenly aware of how much you’d said. “Sorry,” you added quickly, voice softer. “That was a lot. I just— I don’t know. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
He shook his head slightly, but it took him a second to speak.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, you didn’t.”
A pause stretched out before he leaned back a little, looking at his hands for a moment like he was organizing his thoughts.
“I get it,” he said finally. “Not exactly the same, but… I’ve had my own stuff.”
You looked up.
He exhaled, slower now. “I didn’t really know how to deal with my head most of the time, so I just… went into math. Science. Anything that had answers. If there was a problem, there was a solution. That made it easier to breathe.”
His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the notebook on the table.
“But when the world stopped like this,” he continued, voice quieter, “it didn’t have a solution anymore. And I kept trying anyway. Kept building models, theories, anything that made it feel like I still had control over something.” A faint, almost tired laugh slipped out of him. “And when none of it worked… I started losing myself in it a bit.”
He glanced up at you then, more honest now.
“I think I was just trying not to feel hopeless but… after meeting you, I don’t feel too hopeless anymore.”
The rest of the day didn’t feel like time passing so much as time dissolving.
You talked about everything again, then nothing again, then somehow looped back into things that made you laugh until your stomach hurt. The kind of laughter that came easier the longer you forgot to be alone.
At some point, neither of you noticed when afternoon became evening.
The light outside dimmed slowly, painting the empty street in soft gold and then deeper blue. Shadows stretched across the café floor. The world outside didn’t move, but the sky still changed like it was trying to pretend things were normal.
Eventually, the silence between sentences grew longer. Not uncomfortable. Just full.
And then it was dark.
Wonwoo was the first to stand. You followed a moment later. Neither of you said anything as you stepped out into the street together. The frozen city looked different at night, colder somehow, even though nothing had actually changed.
You walked a few steps in silence before both of you slowed.
Then stopped.
You turned to face each other at the same time.
For a second, neither of you spoke, like you were both waiting for the other to break something that felt too delicate to touch.
Finally, Wonwoo exhaled. “I should probably head back to mine.”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Same. Mine’s… that way.”
Another pause. It didn’t feel like goodbye. But it felt like something close enough to it that it hurt anyway.
Then Wonwoo stepped forward.
Without warning, he pulled you into a hug.
It wasn’t hesitant. It was firm, immediate, like something in him had decided words weren’t enough anymore. For a second, your entire body locked up in surprise—then it melted, because suddenly there was weight. Real weight. Another person. Another heartbeat against yours. Something warm and solid and undeniable.
And it wrecked both of you instantly.
The silence you’d lived in for so long made the contact feel overwhelming, like your nervous systems didn’t know how to process it anymore. Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt before you even realized you were moving.
After a moment, his arms tightened slightly, like he didn’t want to let go just yet. Like letting go would mean going back to being alone again. You could feel his chest rising unevenly against you, breath unsteady in a way he couldn’t hide anymore.
And then he started crying.
Quiet at first. Barely there. Like he hadn’t meant to.
That was what broke you.
You tried to hold it together for half a second longer, but it didn’t last. The soundless weight of everything you’d both been carrying just came out all at once.
You were both shaking slightly by the time it settled into something real.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to breathe. He took off his glasses with one hand, wiping his eyes quickly, awkwardly, like he was trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. Then he put them back on, exhaling shakily as he looked at you again.
He didn’t let go of your hands when he reached for them.
Both of them, gently held in his.
Facing you properly now, still a little unsteady, he said quietly, “Thank you for finding me.”
Your throat tightened immediately.
You squeezed his hands back. “Thank you for finding me too,” you said, voice breaking just slightly. Then, softer, like it mattered more than anything else in the world right now, you added, “You know where to find me tomorrow. Or… when we wake up.”
A small, shaky breath left him. He nodded once. Neither of you wanted to be the one to let go first.
it became routine without either of you ever deciding it would.
You started meeting at the café every day when you woke up, and somehow—almost unnervingly—you always arrived at the same time. No matter how irregular sleep had become in a frozen world, your rhythms synced. It was like your days had quietly agreed to align around each other without asking permission. The first thing you’d see each morning was him already there, or you arriving just as he pushed the door open, both of you stopping for a second like it still surprised you.
From there, you stopped staying in one place.
You explored the city together, block by block, building by building, still trying—out of habit more than hope—to understand what had happened. You checked abandoned offices again, revisited frozen intersections, studied the same impossible stillness from different angles like perspective might change the answer. But even as the mystery stayed unsolved, something else started filling the space it left behind.
Being around him felt… easy.
Not because the world made sense, but because he made it quieter inside your head.
There were moments that stayed with you in a way nothing else did. The way his eyes scrunched up when he laughed, soft and unguarded, like a cat reacting to something warm. The way he’d look at you sometimes like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real, even after days of proving it. The way he started reaching for you without thinking when you ran through the empty city at night, pulling your hand into his so you could both move faster between buildings, breathless and half-laughing as your footsteps echoed through streets that never changed.
It didn’t fix anything.
The world was still frozen.
The mystery was still there.
But it didn’t feel like drowning anymore.
It felt like two lost souls who had found each other at the worst possible time—and somehow decided to stay anyway.
A full month of waking up into the same frozen city and still choosing to meet each other anyway. June 16th arrived like all the other days—silent, suspended, unchanged—but it still felt marked in a way neither of you said out loud.
You met at the café like always, arriving at the same time without ever planning it. Wonwoo reached for the door handle out of habit, but before he could open it, you grabbed his hand. “I’m bringing you to my place,” you said.
He paused, then smiled a little, soft and easy. “Okay.” No questions. Just agreement, like he trusted you more than the world made sense.
The walk back felt different this time. Less like surviving and more like existing alongside someone else. When you got to your apartment, you opened the door and led him in, suddenly aware of how strange it felt to show someone your space after so long of it only belonging to you.
Above your bed hung a slightly crooked paper banner.
HAPPY TWO MONTHS GETTING STUCK-AVERSARY!
Wonwoo stared at it for a second before laughing, genuinely surprised. “You made a banner?”
“It felt important,” you said, defensive but smiling anyway.
He shook his head, still laughing as he sat on the edge of your bed, palms pressing into your comforter like he was checking if it was real. The way he relaxed without thinking made something warm settle in your chest. The bed smelled like you, and he noticed, even if he didn’t say it.
You sat beside him after a moment, picking at the blanket. “I kept the newspaper,” you said suddenly.
He looked over.
“The one with the headline,” you added. “TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY. I thought it was stupid. Like actually stupid.”
He gave a small nod. “It is kind of stupid.”
That made you laugh quietly, but it faded fast. “I’ve never been in a real relationship,” you said after a pause. “And I don’t think I’ve ever really been… loved. My mom used to say I was unlovable. And I guess I just believed it for a long time without even realizing it.”
The air shifted immediately, not dramatically, just enough to feel heavier. Wonwoo’s expression softened in a way that erased any remaining humor. He took your hand gently and started rubbing slow circles on the back of it, steady and grounding like he was trying to undo years of silence through touch alone.
“That’s not true,” he said simply.
You didn’t respond, just swallowed and looked away for a second.
Then you pulled the folded newspaper out and showed it to him.
He looked at it, then after a beat, reached into his pocket and pulled out an identical copy.
You froze.
He noticed immediately. “I kept it too,” he said quietly. “At first I thought it was just noise. Something my brain clung to because I needed meaning somewhere. But it was the only thing from the last normal day that felt real.”
He turned it slightly in his hands. “Before I met you, it was the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.”
His gaze lifted to yours. Softer now.
“And then you showed up,” he added, “and I didn’t need it the same way anymore.”
The newspaper still sat between you for a moment after that, both copies folded loosely now, no longer feeling like proof of anything—just something you both had carried too long alone.
You traced a finger along the edge of yours before looking at him. “Have you ever been in love?”
The question landed softly, but it changed something in his expression immediately. Not defensive. Just thoughtful, like he was actually sorting through memories he didn’t often open.
“There have been… two times,” Wonwoo said slowly. “Where I think I actually felt it. Love.”
You stayed quiet, letting him take his time.
“The first was in high school,” he continued. “My first girlfriend. It was… real, in that way you only realize later. First everything. First person I ever really let myself care about like that.” A faint, almost nostalgic exhale left him. “But we were different in ways we didn’t know how to fix. It didn’t work out. We let it end before it got worse.”
He glanced down at your hands still loosely held in his, then back up.
“The second time…” He paused, a little longer this time. “Is more recent. So recent I don’t really know what to do with it yet.”
You blinked at him, not fully sure how to hold that answer, your chest tightening in a way you didn’t want to name. But you didn’t push it. Instead, you just nodded slightly, like you were giving him room to leave it there if he needed to.
And then, because silence suddenly felt too heavy, you started talking.
“I really love coffee,” you said, a little too quickly at first, then settling into it. “Like, actually love it. Not just because I need it. The smell, the routine, the way it feels like a start to something even when nothing changes.” You glanced around his apartment absentmindedly, then back at him. “And movies. I love movies. And music, especially physical copies. Like CDs, vinyls, anything you can actually hold. Streaming feels… temporary.”
He was watching you closely now, but not in a way that interrupted. In a way that made space.
You kept going.
“I love poetry too. And songwriting is honestly the coolest shit in the world,” you said, a small laugh slipping out as you leaned back a little. “Like how someone can just… turn a feeling into something you can hear. That’s insane to me.”
As you spoke, Wonwoo didn’t look away once.
Not even for a second.
It wasn’t intense in a way that made you nervous. It was quiet. Anchored. Like every word you said was something he was choosing to keep.
His eyes softened the longer you talked, shoulders relaxed, expression shifting into something almost unguarded. Like he wasn’t just hearing you—he was seeing you.
Not because you were the only person in the world.
But because, in that moment, that was how he was looking at you.
Like if the city was full again, if time started moving properly again, if everything went back to normal, it wouldn’t change the fact that this was where his attention would always land.
On you.
And you didn’t know it yet, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t change even if they weren’t stuck at all.
The city stayed frozen, the routines stayed familiar, but something between you and Wonwoo started to feel… different. Conversations had a lingering edge to them now, like they didn’t fully end when the words stopped. They hung around in the silence afterward, warm and strange, like unfinished thoughts neither of you wanted to close.
You noticed more things about him without meaning to.
The way he talked faster when he got excited, words slipping out like his brain couldn’t keep up with itself when he was explaining something he cared about. The way his handwriting was ridiculously neat, especially when he was writing out equations in that notebook of his—precise lines, careful spacing, like even his thoughts needed to be organized before they were allowed to exist on paper.
Now you were sitting in his room, watching him.
He was at his desk, slightly hunched over a sheet of paper, sketching something absentmindedly while thinking out loud under his breath. You weren’t really listening to the content anymore. At some point, your attention had shifted without permission.
You were just looking at him.
The way his hair fell slightly over his forehead when he leaned forward. The quiet focus in his expression. The small pauses he made when he was thinking too hard. The way even his stillness felt… intentional.
It hit you slowly, like something you weren’t supposed to notice.
He was beautiful.
Not in a loud way. Not in a way that demanded attention. In a way that made you realize you’d been paying attention without realizing it. And kind. Genuinely, quietly kind in a way that didn’t ask for anything back.
You weren’t sure when that realization turned into something heavier.
Something warmer.
Something that made your chest feel tight in a way you couldn’t explain yet.
You laughed softly to yourself before you could stop it.
Wonwoo paused mid-line, looking up slightly. “What?”
You blinked like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “Nothing.”
He didn’t look convinced.
You reached into your pocket out of instinct and pulled out the folded newspaper again, like it could anchor you back into something simpler. You unfolded it halfway and glanced at the headline you already knew by heart.
TRUE LOVE CAN SAVE THE DAY.
“I was just thinking about this,” you said casually, trying to smooth out whatever had just happened inside your head.
He watched you for a second, then gave a small, soft smile—one of those ones that didn’t feel like it was fully controlled. A “pretty” smile, unguarded in a way that made your stomach drop slightly.
“Oh?” he said lightly, turning back to his paper, pen moving again. “Still trying to figure out if it’s propaganda or destiny?”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Something like that.”
He hummed, clearly amused, not looking up this time. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like me.”
That made you smile before you even realized it.
And as he went back to his drawing, pen scratching softly against paper, you stayed sitting there a little longer than necessary, pretending you were still thinking about the newspaper when really you were just trying to understand why looking at him felt like that now.
The rest of the night settled into a quiet kind of rhythm. You stayed on his bed with a notebook in your lap, writing poetry in scattered lines and half-finished thoughts, while Wonwoo sat at his desk working through equations and diagrams like he could reason the world back into motion if he just didn’t stop trying. The room wasn’t loud, but it also wasn’t empty anymore. It felt shared in a way neither of you had experienced since everything stopped.
Every so often you’d glance up at him without meaning to. He was completely focused, glasses slightly slipping down his nose, pen moving carefully across the page, hair falling forward in soft, messy strands that made him look less like the person trying to solve the impossible and more like someone just trying to hold on. And every time you looked away again, your chest felt strangely full in a way you didn’t want to name yet.
At one point he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head toward you. “What are you writing?” he asked, already half-standing like he was going to come over.
“Nope,” you said quickly, swatting at him before he got too close. “Don’t even try.”
He leaned in anyway, and you instinctively pushed his head back gently, your fingers catching in his hair for a second longer than you intended. It was softer than you expected, slightly messy in a way that made your heart react faster than your brain could explain. You pulled your hand away too quickly, pretending it meant nothing, and went back to your notebook while he cleared his throat and sat down again like nothing had happened, though the faint color on his cheeks betrayed him.
After that, the room fell into silence again. Not uncomfortable, just steady. You writing. Him thinking. The world outside completely still.
Then, after a few minutes, the silence shifted.
You heard him breathe differently.
You looked up.
Wonwoo wasn’t writing anymore. His shoulders were tense, head slightly bowed, and when he finally lifted a hand to his face you saw it—he was crying, quietly, like it had slipped out of him before he could stop it.
You moved immediately. “Wonwoo?” you said softly, sliding off the bed and kneeling in front of him. Moonlight from the window spilled across both of you, catching on his face, on the tear tracks he tried to wipe away too late. Your hands came to rest gently on his legs, grounding him. “Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”
He shook his head at first, like he didn’t want to say it, but then it all came out anyway.
“I can’t do it,” he said, voice breaking. “I keep trying and nothing works. Every model, every equation, every theory—it always ends the same. I can’t fix it. I can’t understand it. And I feel like I’m losing myself trying to solve something that doesn’t want to be solved.”
His breath stuttered.
“And I feel like I’m letting you down.”
That hit harder than anything else.
He looked at you then, really looked at you, eyes red and exhausted. “All I want is for you to get out of this,” he said more quietly. “That’s it. If I can’t fix it, then I should at least—”
“Don’t say that,” you interrupted softly, shaking your head.
He paused.
You tightened your grip slightly on his legs. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s true,” he said anyway, voice unsteady but honest. “You’ve helped me so much. The least I can do is get you out of this.”
You stared at him for a moment, then leaned in a little closer, your voice softer but firm. “You’re not letting me down.”
He blinked at you like he didn’t know how to believe that.
Wonwoo looked at you through glassy, tear-lined eyes, still breathing unevenly like he was trying to steady himself in real time. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just stayed there, hands hovering uncertainly before slowly settling over yours where they rested on his legs, like he needed to anchor himself to you to stay present.
His voice came out quiet, almost unsure of itself. “Can I kiss you?”
The question hit you harder than anything else that night. It didn’t feel like impulse—it felt like something careful, something honest, something he’d thought through even in the middle of everything breaking down inside him. And for a second, you didn’t think at all. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, closing the small space between you.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t uncertain. It was real in a way everything else in this frozen world had stopped being. Like all the silence, all the waiting, all the searching finally collapsed into something simple and undeniable.
It just made sense.
You shifted slightly on your knees to meet him properly, and his hands instinctively found your waist, holding you there like he was afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip. Your fingers moved into his hair without hesitation this time, no second-guessing, just instinct and feeling and warmth where there hadn’t been warmth in too long.
And when you finally parted, it wasn’t distance that remained between you.
It was understanding.
Wonwoo pulled you into a tight hug first, like he couldn’t stand the space between you anymore. His arms wrapped around you firmly, pulling you into his chest as if the world outside of this moment didn’t exist. “I don’t want to let you go,” he said quietly, voice still rough from everything that had just happened.
That cracked something open in you again. You clung to him, tears slipping down before you could stop them. “Then don’t,” you said, voice breaking. “I don’t want you to leave either. You don’t have to let me go. Not ever.”
For a while, neither of you moved.
Eventually, you pulled back just enough to breathe. The night had grown later without either of you noticing, and the exhaustion of everything settled in all at once. “I should go,” you said softly, even though you didn’t want to. “It’s a twenty-minute walk.”
Wonwoo hesitated, then nodded. He understood, even if he didn’t like it. He walked you to the door, hands lingering like he was memorizing the moment. Neither of you spoke much—there wasn’t anything that needed to be said right then.
You stepped outside alone.
The city was still frozen, still impossibly quiet, but the air had changed. Heavy clouds had gathered overhead sometime while you weren’t looking. A few minutes into your walk, the first drops of rain started falling, slow at first, then all at once.
Within minutes, you were completely soaked. Hair dripping, clothes clinging, shoes heavy against the pavement. The cold didn’t matter as much as it should have. It just blurred into everything else.
You were about ten minutes in when you heard it.
“Y/N!”
You froze.
The voice cut through the rain like it didn’t belong in this world anymore. You turned around quickly, heart snapping in your chest.
Wonwoo was running toward you.
Soaked completely. Hair damp and clinging to his forehead, glasses streaked with rain, shirt darkened by water, breath uneven as he closed the distance like he couldn’t afford to lose you even for a few minutes.
When he reached you, you grabbed him immediately—hands on his shoulders, then his waist, checking him like he might disappear again. “Are you okay?” you asked quickly, breathless, searching his face.
He was smiling.
Wide. Relieved. Almost breathless with it.
“I figured it out,” he said.
You blinked through the rain. “Figured out what?”
He lifted the folded newspaper in his hand. It was soaked too, edges curling from the water, ink blurring slightly. “This,” he said like it was obvious.
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Wonwoo, it’s just a stupid headline.”
He shook his head immediately. “No. Listen.”
You stared at him, rain dripping down your face.
“What if it wasn’t just a headline?” he said, voice rising slightly over the storm. “What if we’re the only two people still here because everything else requires connection to persist? Not in a magical way. In a cognitive way. In a relational way. Reality stabilizes through perception, through emotional anchoring—through people being meaningfully recognized by others.”
You frowned slightly. “I don’t—what?”
He stepped closer, excitement and urgency blending together in his expression, but softer too, like he wasn’t afraid anymore. “I know it sounds insane, but think about it. Everything else is frozen, erased, or collapsing. But we’re not. We only became real when we found each other. When we were seen. When we mattered to someone else.”
You shook your head slightly again, confused but listening.
Then his expression softened completely, the intensity giving way to something simpler, something honest.
“I’m in love with you,” he said.
Your breath caught.
He didn’t hesitate. “I am so in love with you that I can’t think straight anymore. And I think you feel it too. I know you do. I think that’s why this works. That’s why we’re still here. Because we’re connected.”
The rain poured around you, soaking everything, but neither of you moved away.
For a second, you just stared at him.
Then you laughed once, disbelieving, shaking your head—but your eyes were wet for a different reason now.
“You’re insane,” you whispered.
“Probably,” he said immediately, stepping closer again.
He grabs both sides of your face pulling you in tightly like he doesn’t want to let go, crashing your lips together once more. You wrap your hands around his neck playing with the wet strands of hair on the back of his neck. He snakes his arms down from your face to wrap around your back, once again pulling you in closer.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were still smiling like you couldn’t believe any of it was real.
“Come on,” you said breathlessly, grabbing his hand. And together, you ran back toward your apartment through the rain, like the world had finally started moving again just to keep up with you.
When you got back to your apartment, you both took off your soaking wet shoes, leaving them at your front door.
You made it back to your apartment soaked through, both of you laughing a little breathlessly as you stumbled inside. The warmth hit immediately, muffled and soft compared to the rain outside. Shoes came off at the door almost in sync, wet footprints left behind on the floor as you kicked them aside.
“Okay,” you said, brushing damp hair out of your face, “you’re gonna be so uncomfortable if you stay in that.”
Wonwoo glanced down at himself like he’d just realized how completely drenched he was. “That’s… fair.”
You gave a small nod toward your bedroom. “I have clothes you can change into. They’ll be big on you, but they’re clean.”
He followed you without hesitation, still a little dazed, like the last half hour hadn’t fully settled into reality yet. You moved to your closet immediately, rifling through it with quick, familiar motions while he stood a few steps back, dripping water onto the floor and trying very hard not to make a mess of anything.
“Found it,” you said, pulling out a soft hoodie and a pair of shorts for yourself, then another set of oversized clothes you didn’t care about as much. You turned and tossed his clothes lightly toward him. “Here.”
He caught them a little awkwardly, nodding. “Thanks.”
You were already halfway out of your wet shirt, switching quickly into the dry hoodie, movements practical and unbothered. Wonwoo immediately turned slightly away out of instinct, giving you space even though the room was already casual and familiar in its own way.
Still, despite looking away, his thoughts betrayed him. He found himself thinking—almost frustratingly simple and clear—that you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Not just right now. Not just in the rain. Just… always. Like it wasn’t something the world had to be frozen for him to notice.
When you finished changing and turned back around, the air between you felt warmer than before.
“Okay,” you said, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands. “You good?”
Wonwoo nodded, still a little quiet, but softer now. “Yeah. Better.”
When you finally settle under the covers, he follows, and somehow you end up tangled into the same space without really discussing it. You end up resting against his chest, and after a second of hesitation, his arm settles around you like it belongs there.
His fingers move into your hair gently, slow and absent-minded, while the other hand traces steady circles on your back. It grounds you more than you expect.
After a while, you ask quietly, “Do you really think you’re right about all of this?”
He lets out a small breath, almost a laugh. “About reality being held together by emotional attachment and us being the center of some cosmic relationship experiment?” He pauses. “I’ve definitely gone insane, so I’m not the most reliable source.”
That makes you smile into his shirt.
But his hand doesn’t stop moving as he continues, softer now. “But I do think something changed when we found each other. Whatever this is… I don’t feel like I’m alone in it anymore.”
You go quiet after that.
You shift slightly so you can look up at him. The dim light from the room softens everything about his face—his eyes, his expression, the way he looks at you like you’re something he still can’t fully believe is real.
“I love you,” you say before you can second-guess it. Your voice doesn’t shake, even though everything inside you does. “I love you in ways I don’t even know how to say properly. More than I’ve ever loved myself. You brought back something in me I thought I lost a long time ago.”
He doesn’t answer right away.
His hand pauses in your hair like he needs a moment to process it. Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead—careful, steady, real.
“I love you too,” he says quietly.
You exhale slowly, letting yourself settle back into him as his arms tighten just slightly, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he relaxes too much. His hand resumes its slow rhythm on your back, steadier now, calmer.
At some point, you stop thinking about the frozen world outside.
And at some point after that, you fall asleep without meaning to—still held by him, still real enough to stay.
The next morning doesn’t feel like waking up—it feels like being pulled out of something too deep too fast. You wake to noise. Not silence.
A car horn cuts through the air, sharp and real, followed by another, then overlapping voices rising from outside the window. For a few seconds you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, your brain refusing to connect the sound to anything it remembers.
Then you sit up.
You rub your eyes hard, like that might reset the world, but the noise doesn’t go away. It only gets clearer. Louder. More layered.
You move fast.
You run to the window.
And you freeze.
The world outside is moving.
Cars are driving again. People are walking on sidewalks. A couple passes holding hands. A group of friends laughs at a crosswalk. Everything is alive in a way that feels almost overwhelming after so long without it.
Your hands press against the glass.
“Oh my fucking god,” you whisper.
You stare harder, like it might break if you look at it wrong, but it doesn’t. It stays real.
“Wonwoo,” you say suddenly, spinning around, relief hitting you all at once. “Oh my god—Wonwoo! It worked! You were right it—”
You stop.
The bed is empty.
No movement. No warmth. No trace of him.
Your stomach drops immediately.
“Wonwoo?” you say again, quieter now. Confused.
You rush out of the bedroom, checking the apartment quickly, moving from room to room, your bare feet hitting the floor too loudly in the new world of sound. “Wonwoo?” you call, louder this time. “Hey—are you here?”
Nothing.
The apartment feels wrong without him in it.
You step into the hallway, and suddenly everything is too loud. Neighbors talking. Doors opening. Life spilling back into the building like it had never stopped. It overwhelms you all at once, crashing in after months of silence.
You call his name again, voice breaking as it echoes down the hallway. “Wonwoo!”
Still nothing.
You move faster now, checking stairwells, corridors, every space you can think of, panic rising with every empty second. The world is full again, but he isn’t in it.
“Wonwoo…” you whisper, barely audible now, before it breaks completely.
Your knees weaken as you sink against the wall, sobs finally spilling out while everything around you keeps moving forward.
You stand up too fast.
The second you’re on your feet, you’re already moving, already running out of the building like your body has decided before your mind can catch up. The air outside is full of sound—cars passing, people talking, life everywhere—and you’re yelling his name before you even realize you’re doing it.
“Wonwoo!” you scream, voice cracking as tears blur your vision. “Wonwoo!”
People turn to look at you.
Some slow down. Some stare. A few step out of your path as you push past them, not gently, not carefully—just desperately. Your shoulder bumps into someone, then another, but you don’t stop. You don’t apologize. You don’t care.
“Wonwoo!” you shout again, louder, like volume could force reality to give him back.
But he isn’t there.
He isn’t anywhere.
You keep running anyway, breath tearing in your chest, until your legs carry you back to the only place that ever felt consistent—the newspaper stand.
The stand is still there.
Still absurdly normal.
Still unchanged.
A boy stands behind it now, different from the ones you remember from the frozen time. He looks up immediately when he sees you, startled by how wrecked you look.
“Hey—are you okay?” he asks quickly. “Do you need help? My name’s Chan, I can—”
“What day is it?” you cut him off, breathless, shaking, barely holding yourself up. “Just tell me what day it is.”
Chan hesitates, clearly worried. “Hey, I think you should sit down first, you look—”
“That’s not what I asked,” you say again, voice breaking harder now. “I asked what day it is.”
He pauses, then answers carefully. “June 28th, 2026.”
Something in your chest drops.
You turn without thinking, grabbing a newspaper from the stand. Your hands shake so badly the paper crinkles immediately. The date is clean. New. Real. And the headline stares back at you in bold print:
Researchers Confirm Reality Stabilized Following Reconnection of Isolated Cognitive Nodes.
Your vision blurs instantly.
“No,” you whisper.
Then again, louder, breaking apart completely as tears spill onto the paper. “No—Wonwoo. Wonwoo, no…”
You say his name like it’s something that might still answer you if you repeat it enough times. Like a prayer. Like repetition could rebuild him into the world.
“Wonwoo… Wonwoo…”
Chan watches you helplessly, unsure what to do.
You force yourself to breathe, wiping your face quickly even though it doesn’t help. “Thank you,” you manage, voice barely stable. “I’m sorry.”
He nods slowly, still concerned, but doesn’t stop you as you turn away.
You walk back toward the crosswalk, toward nothing in particular, just trying to figure out where to put yourself now that everything is moving again without him.
And then—
A hand lands on your shoulder.
You freeze so hard it feels like the world stops again.
For a second, you can’t breathe.
You turn.
Slowly.
And the moment you see him, you already know.
Black hair slightly messy. Glasses catching the light. The same quiet expression that looks like he’s just barely holding onto disbelief.
Wonwoo.
Standing there like he never left at all.
And said with that same cat like smile that you thought you had lost,
Pairing: video game developer!jeon wonwoo x animator f!reader
Summary: jeon wonwoo has been insufferable since the day you started at Carat Entertainment. between petty arguments and snide remarks to each other, he quickly became public enemy number one in your eyes. when you’re thrown together on a high-priority project for a new video game, late work nights turn into long conversations and you begin to forget why you even hated him in the first place.
WC: 7.5k
CW: CHAPTER SPECIFIC, the full list can be found on the series navigation here. this series is 18+ so MDNI - a few SMAU posts in there, swearing, wonwoo is kind of a prick but so is the reader, best friends seungkwan and vernon, some brief use of y/n for email correspondences, but otherwise wonwoo calls the reader “picasso”. i have genuinely never done animation or coding before in my life, so this is probably inaccurate so just enjoy it for what it is LMAO
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dividers by @uzmacchiato
There’s an unspoken hatred between you and your coworker, Jeon Wonwoo.
Okay, unspoken is not the right way to word it. The two of you are actually very spoken about it. Being near him for longer than ten minutes is enough to set you off the edge. He’s just so rude. He’s brooding, and grumpy, and never has anything nice to say or contribute to anything. He always thinks he’s entitled to everything, and it makes you want to rip your hair out. You’re thankful every day that you work in different departments, because god only knows how much worse it would be if you had to work together.
See, Wonwoo is a programmer. He works in engineering (AKA a bunch of boring nerds who type numbers all day. Right up his alley). You, on the other hand, are an animator. When you first got hired, you figured that Wonwoo must’ve hated how cool and awesome and talented you were compared to him. Anybody with a lick of common sense (and good taste) could tell you that animation was way more exciting than, what, staring at code?
That had to be the reason he hated you so much from the start, because nothing else made sense. There was no fight, no argument–nothing to start this boiling feud between you. It was like your existence was reason enough for him to be an asshole.
Unfortunately for you, your departments sat on the same floor. Engineering was right around the corner from art, so it took months of strategy and planning to find ways around seeing him. You’ve memorized his daily schedule so you can avoid being in the breakroom at the same time as him. He takes his lunch around one every day, so you take yours a whole hour earlier. He leaves work a little after five, so you leave a little before. The less you needed to be around him, the better.
Besides, it was for the good of the whole company, as well: the amount of complaints the two of you had received for arguing so much was embarrassing, to say the least. Wonwoo tried to say you were instigating it, but you wouldn’t even be arguing in the first place if he kept his stupid mouth shut. If it wasn’t one thing, it was the other. Yesterday your food smelled too bad, the day before that your sweater was too bright a color, and the day before that you laughed too loud and he ‘could hear it from the first floor’ (which you know is bullshit because you work on the sixth).
Needless to say, he is insufferable.
Today is no exception to that fact. The second you scan your ID to clock in, Wonwoo is side-eyeing you from his employee mailbox. You, being the bigger person you are, stick your nose up and brush past him. You cannot engage with whatever snarky comment he’s thinking of saying, because that will not be good. You already woke up in a bad enough mood today: your alarm went off late, the water in your building got shut off so you couldn’t shower, and your favorite bakery was out of the pastry you get every morning. Part of you almost dared Wonwoo to cross your path today, but you knew that one more argument could land you both in the boss’s office. You did not want to jeopardize your squeaky-clean record on him, of all people.
“I can smell your lunch from here, Picasso. What is that, fish for the nth time in a row?”
You stop in front of the elevator. You don't bother looking over to him when you say, “Keep your nose to yourself, geeksquad.”
He scoffs, but doesn’t push the matter further. You figure he’s doing the same thing as you–keeping his record clean, that is. As far as you knew, he also had never had any disciplinary marks on his employee profile. Which, truly, is baffling to you. He’s got the worst personality and an even worse attitude at work. How he’s been here for so long is beyond you. Talented or not, you’ve never been able to understand why HR puts up with his snark. Maybe with your luck, he’d quit in the next few years. All he does is complain about work, anyway.
The elevator door opens, and before you get the chance to step on, Wonwoo slides in front of you. You frown and try to follow him, but then he hits the ‘door close’ button, and you’re stuck in the lobby.
Because, of course he would do that. Of course he would take your elevator ride and comment on your lunch and do everything in his power to make your Friday miserable.
Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you decide that you will not let this get to you. Drawing in a deep breath, you press the button again and wait for the door to open once more. When it finally returns, you can still smell his cologne in the small space; sandalwood is now permanently ruined for you. You grimace as you press the button for the sixth floor, then let your back lean against the wall behind you.
Above you, the floor numbers flicker slowly as they change, and the elevator comes to a stop. By the time you get to your desk, Seungkwan is already hunched over your shared workstation with his brows pushed together. Seungkwan started at Carat Entertainment around the same time as you, and he quickly became one of your closest friends. Between late-night snack runs, traveling around the world, and questionable nights in town, Seungkwan weasled his way into your life as your ride or die. As much as you enjoy being around him, though, sometimes he can be a tad overdramatic.
As you toss your bag onto your desktop, Seungkwan looks up and sighs in relief. “Thank god you’re here. I’m having trouble with this build I’ve been working on.”
You hum as you saunter over to him. Peeking over his shoulder, you watch as he attempts to troubleshoot his project. Everything starts normally: you see the start-up menu boot up fine, the character select looks good, but then when he gets into the game mode, the movements of the character begin to lag. When he tries to interact with anything, the lag is even more apparent.
“Did you check the motion settings?” You ask as you pull a stool up beside him.
“Yeah, I’ve exhausted everything.” Seungkwan groans. “Motion settings, blend timing…none of it is fixing the issue.”
Shrugging, you take the tablet from him. “Well, if it’s nothing on our end, that means it could be an engineering issue. Specifically a Wonwoo issue. He was working on this with you, right?”
“Uh,” Seungkwan clears his throat, “yeah.”
Just to be safe, you maneuver through the same tests that Seungkwan already ran. If you had to guess, it was probably something in-engine that was causing the issue. His character starts to glitch at a transition point, which means the movement controller is probably fucked.
AKA: Wonwoo’s problem. Not yours.
You hand him his tablet again. “I’d bring it up to him, then.”
“Sure.” Seungkwan shifts uncomfortably. You can tell he’s trying not to get caught between another piss-off with you and Wonwoo, so you offer him a reassuring smile.
“Kwan, we are not doing anything wrong by escalating the problem to engineering.” You reply. “We’ve worked through our tests, and now that we know it’s not us, we need to involve Wonwoo. Besides, I’m not on this project with you guys. It’ll be fine.”
Seungkwan tucks the tablet under his arm. “I guess that’s true. It’s just…you know how he gets when someone tries to say he’s wrong. It’s almost worse than you.”
That elicits a laugh from you. You couldn’t argue with Seungkwan on that fact, though. You may be stubborn, but Wonwoo was even more so. As if he wasn’t egotistical enough, being told he’s wrong was like throwing a cat into a tub full of water. He takes feedback as a personal attack, and it’s a little pathetic.
“He’s an adult,” you say as your laughter slows. “He’ll live. It’s good character development.”
From: Choi Seungcheol - Lead Developer
To: Group: Art Department, Sub-Group: Animation
CC: Boo Seungkwan, Jeon Wonwoo
Subject: Animation Blends - Investigation
Hi team,
I’m forwarding a ticket that concerns animation blending. It’s been brought to our attention that there may be an issue with some in-engine mechanics, and we are investigating it.
Jeon Wonwoo is the programmer assigned to the ticket. If there are any questions, please keep them limited to the ticket thread. For the time being, halt any ongoing animation work for the game. Once everything is cleared, we will let you know.
Thanks,
Seungcheol
Well, that escalated. Your advice to Seungkwan has now indirectly involved Wonwoo in your day, and you are considering going home sick. Burying your face in your hands, you let out a dramatic groan. Beside you, Seungkwan leans back in his chair.
“Well, this sucks.” He announces. “They assigned the grouchiest programmer to the ticket. Do they not realize how shitty our day is about to become?”
You turn to face him. “What did you say to prompt all of this?”
Seungkwan's eyes widen. “Me? Don’t turn this on me! You’re the one who told me to bring it to engineering!”
Before you can argue with him, you see Wonwoo walk into your department. His hands are in his pockets until he gets to your work station and pulls up a chair. He settles into it with the backrest forward as he leans against it. He looks a little too calm right now, and it unnerves you and Seungkwan. You both exchange a quick look when Wonwoo holds his hand out.
“Let me see the build, Seungkwan.” He deadpans.
Seungkwan hesitates as he hands the tablet over to him. “It happens at the transition point right after character selection.”
Wonwoo is quiet as he goes through the same motions that the two of you already had. His expression is flat, but you can see his jaw clench in irritation as he works. He has a vein on his neck that is sticking out, which tells you he’s mad. You’ve seen it come out a few times when you argue with him. In the reflection of his glasses, you can see the game begin to glitch, just as Seungkwan told him it would.
After finishing a few tests, he hands the tablet back to Seungkwan.
“It’s not the animation.” He says simply. His tone is too neutral, and that only adds to your nerves. You can tell how upset he is physically, but the fact that he’s staying so composed is new. It's an unknown territory.
“So, it’s engineering?” Seungkwan asks.
“I didn’t say that.” Wonwoo stands, then pushes the chair back to where he got it. “I think it’s a shared problem.”
“Shared?” You chime in.
Wonwoo looks at you briefly, then begins walking away. “That’s what I said, Picasso.”
You were not about to let him leave like that. You stumble to your feet, hurrying after him. At this point, complaints be damned.
“You just saw that it wasn’t an animation problem,” You retort. “If it’s not us, that clearly means it’s the movement controller. Or something else in the code. The code that you made, by the way.”
Wonwoo stops, and you almost run into him. He turns to face you, then leans down to your level. You hate it when he does this. Holding your tongue, you fold your arms across your chest.
“It’s not an animation problem.” He agrees. “It’s also not an engineering problem. I just said it was shared, but I need to run a few of my own tests to be sure. I don’t just assume.”
You scoff. “I did not assume. I ran through the right process, Wonwoo. I did my own tests, and when those came back fine, I turned it over to engineering. Is that not the right way to handle this?”
“It is.”
“So what are you insinuating?” You press.
“Am I insinuating something?” He counters. The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s finding this amusing, and you want to punch him more than ever. “I’m just speaking plainly.”
You draw in a deep breath in a final attempt to calm yourself down. Then, you force a polite smile. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He echoes. You watch as he turns and disappears back into the engineering department.
It takes a whole two hours before you’re getting another email. But this time, it’s only addressed to you.
From: Choi Seungcheol - Lead Developer
To: Y/L/N, Y/F/N
CC: Jeon Wonwoo, Hong Joshua - Lead Animator
Subject: RE: Animation Blends - Investigation
Please find your assigned work order below. If you have any questions, let Wonwoo know.
Thanks,
Seungcheol
Unbelievable. Attached to the email is, in fact, a new work order that’s titled:
If there is a God out there, you’re sure at this point they have it out for you. This is a personal attack from the universe, and you can’t help but wonder why. Your first instinct is to ask Seungcheol to take you off the ticket, because who in their right mind would think it’s a good idea to pair the two of you together? But you already know the answer, because it’s the same one they give you every time you get stuck on a work order together: “You’re the best in each department. We need the best to figure this out, so figure it out”.
Which, really, you’re flattered to be considered the best. What you’re not flattered about is the fact that being the best automatically means that Wonwoo is constantly in your orbit. At this point, your department leads are just begging HR to get involved because of the way they keep throwing you two together.
As if on cue, Joshua, your supervisor, knocks on the door. You push yourself to your feet and grab your tablet.
“I know, I’m going.” You grumble. “Just know I’m mad about it, though.”
“You always are.” He replies with a hum. “When you’re done with Wonwoo, I do need to see the two of you in my office. Seungcheol is calling a meeting.”
Well, that’s not good.
“What for?” You ask, turning to look at him.
He takes a deep breath. “Nothing horrible. We’ll discuss it later. Just fix this animation blend, and I’ll see you soon.”
He disappears back into his office, and you want to slam your head against a wall. Maybe throw yourself into traffic. Whatever it takes to get out of this work order and this surprise meeting. Basically, anything to be away from Wonwoo.
You hesitate before leaving your department, and the walk to engineering feels like torture. When you open the door to their corner of the sixth floor, Wonwoo’s back is to you. He’s already typing rapidly, staring at a screen full of code that makes zero sense to you. The chair next to him is open, so you promptly slide into it.
He doesn’t say anything. He continues working and is obviously ignoring the fact that you’re here, now. You set down your tablet and clear your throat loudly. Still, nothing.
“Earth to Wonwoo?” You wave a hand in front of his face, and he pushes it away.
“I’m working.” He mutters. You roll your eyes.
“I can see that.” You reply as you boot up your tablet. “Didn’t you see? I’m assigned to help with the work order.”
“Lucky me.”
You both fall into a very angry silence. Wonwoo’s typing becomes a bit more aggressive, which only fuels your fire to tap a bit harder against the screen of your tablet. You can feel the other engineers nervously watching, like the two of you are a bomb that’s set to detonate any second.
“You’re too close.” Wonwoo suddenly announces. You feel his foot push your chair away from under the desk. “And you’re working too loudly. I can’t hear myself think.”
“I’m too loud?” You drop your tablet into your lap. “I’m on a touchscreen, Wonwoo. You have the loud ass keyboard. Maybe you should get your eyes checked again, because clearly your vision has gotten worse if you can’t see that.”
“Your presence alone is too loud.” He argues, not taking his eyes off his screen. He’s still typing, and that pisses you off even more. “You’re so loud all the time. Your voice, your breathing, your tapping. Just for one day, I’d love it if you would shut up and keep your opinions to yourself–”
You move before you can think, and pull the plug on his computer. Someone gasps from behind you, whereas Wonwoo is quickly standing. He’s pushing you completely out of the way, now, to hurry and plug it back in. As the screen flickers back to life, he finally looks at you.
“What is your problem?” He asks. “Are you crazy?! None of that was saved! The file is going to be even more corrupt now–”
“My problem?” You stand as well, tossing your tablet aside. “You’re finding any excuse to ridicule what I do. I mean, my breathing, Wonwoo? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Both of you, stop.”
The two of you turn towards the doorway where Seungcheol is standing. He looks tired and annoyed. He drags a hand down his face, then steps to the side. “Come with me, please.”
Wonwoo doesn’t move immediately, so you grab your things and move first. He trails behind shortly after as you make your way down the hall towards his office. You’ve never had a reason to come in here before, but it looks like how you’d imagine it to. There aren’t many decorations, and everything is either black or grey. He has a single pencil holder on his desk with maybe five pens in it. In his own words, his office is ‘no bullshit’.
Seungcheol is a little intimidating. Way more than your supervisor, that is. He’s nice, but you’ve seen him get mad before, and that was reason enough to try to stay clear of him as much as possible. However, thanks to Wonwoo, you’re about to be at the receiving end of his anger.
Joshua is already sitting in there when you arrive, and he looks equally as tired as Seungcheol. You and Wonwoo take the two open seats in front of Seungcheol’s desk, and then it's quiet. Seungcheol closes the door and sighs. When he sits, you can feel your heart rate quicken.
“I want to start by saying you two are some of the best employees we have in the agency.” His voice is even, but wavers on the edge of irritation. “However, this kind of behavior has to stop. Joshua and I have been talking, and we think it would be best to try to remedy this before it gets even worse than it already is.”
Neither you nor Wonwoo has the dignity to talk, so he keeps going.
“We have a new game proposal that has come to our attention from our supervisors.” He explains, leaning back in his chair. “But, in order for it to get funding of any kind, we need to create a mock-up of the game. Just a small, playable version to show what the finished product could look like with full funding. This game has the potential to be a big deal for the company, so we can not mess it up. Which, in turn, means we need our best workers on the project.”
“Since the two of you can’t figure out how to work together on your own,” Joshua chimes in, “we will be requiring you to work together on this project. That means genuine collaboration and communication. No more using Seungkwan as a mediator or opening tickets to try and solve problems.”
You think you might puke. Beside you, Wonwoo is still. You’re both at a loss for words, because why would they think this was a good idea? They just saw how the morning played out with their own two eyes, so they think the appropriate solution is to force you to work together? The whole situation is laughable and ridiculous. So horrifically ridiculous, in fact, that you wonder for a second if this is a nightmare. It’s the only logical explanation right now.
“What’s the game?” Wonwoo asks. His voice is low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s pissed by being quiet.
Seungcheol reaches into a drawer and pulls out a manila folder. There’s already quite the stack of papers inside, which makes you wonder how long they’ve been building on this idea before deciding to greenlight it. He passes the folder to Wonwoo, who begins shuffling through the notes.
“Fantasy RPG,” Seungcheol replies. “They want to make it an open world, with a ‘choose your own path’ style of gameplay. There’s everything between romanceable characters, vast options for customization, and over a hundred different endings to the game. The mechanics are going to need to be pretty impressive for us to get the funding we need.”
The project did sound like fun. It piques your interest enough that the idea of working with Wonwoo almost sounds tolerable if it meant you got to design the characters for it. Almost. Wonwoo closes the folder again and tries to pass it back to Seungcheol, but you reach over to take it from him. He glances at you for the first time since the argument, and your blood boils all over again. His jaw tightens as he turns to his supervisor.
You flip through the notes, seeing a few rough sketches for concept art. It’s got everything between character names, weapons, armor, and even animal companions. Your mind is already swirling with ideas as you chew on your bottom lip. The vision is painting itself in your mind, making you eager to sketch it all up. You’re thinking of a darker concept, judging by the description of the game. Deep purples, ugly, olive green tones, with maybe a touch of mustard yellow for the ogres–
“We need a final product to present to investors in six months.” Seungcheol continues. You look up at him again. Six months was not that much time. You’d have to start on this, like, yesterday. “I’m anticipating overtime will happen occasionally, so HR has already approved whatever extra hours will accumulate between now and August.”
You glance over to Wonwoo, who is now sitting with his arms folded across his chest. You can’t fully read his expression from where you sit, but you’d kill to know what was going on in his mind right now. As you close the folder and pass it back to Seungcheol, you take a deep breath.
“Okay.” You manage. Not that you had much of a choice in whether or not you were assigned to the project, but you knew one of you had to at least acknowledge the plan. Clearly, Wonwoo wasn’t going to. “I’ll start on some designs–”
“Don’t tell me.” Seungcheol gestures to Wonwoo. “Tell your partner.”
You feel the tips of your ears heat up. Is he seriously playing mediator right now? Swallowing, you turn to face Wonwoo. He’s still not looking at you.
Clearing your throat, you finish your sentence, “I’ll start on some designs and color palettes.”
A few seconds pass before Wonwoo looks at you. He stands, then sticks his hands into his pockets. “Sounds good. I’m going to work on gameplay mechanics. I’ll get some demos ready.”
With that, he turns on his heel and exits the office. A tiny part of you hopes the door hits him on his way out, but it doesn’t. It never does.
When you get home, you sink into your couch and pray the cushions swallow you whole. Your cat, Dubu, comes running from the bedroom and promptly plants herself onto your lap. You watch as she stretches out, then rolls over onto her back.
Dubu came into your life when you first moved out of your parents’ house. So, five years ago now. Truthfully, you’re not sure where you’d be without her. Dubu has been your lifeline for every long, sleepless night, every breakup, and every hiccup you’ve had involving Wonwoo at work. Today was no different, and you’re certain she can tell when you’re having a bad day. She’s purring loudly, staring up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. For her, you probably did. You just wish you could do it for someone else, too.
“Oh, Dubu,” you sigh, “what’re we going to do? They’re making Wonwoo and I work together.”
She meows as if she understands. She doesn’t, but you keep going anyway.
“The game is cool.” You hum as you gently scratch her tummy. She blinks slowly. “It’s fantasy. Maybe I could draw some cool dragons in it. Or maybe I could draw Wonwoo and have him get blown to smithereens in the tutorial.”
If only that’s how real life worked, too. Not that you want Wonwoo dead per se, but you wish there was a way to just…re-animate or re-code how things could be. You wonder a lot what must’ve happened to make him such a grouch, or if he came out of his mother’s womb naturally being an asshole. How miserable his life must be if he behaves that way every day.
Does he even have a life outside of work? You’ve never considered that thought before. Who was Jeon Wonwoo outside of the office? Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you dig your phone out of your pocket and open up Instagram. It takes all but one search for his profile to pop up.
You want to laugh at how ridiculous it seems. The only semi-accurate aspect about his profile is the fact that he’s barely smiling. Now that you think about it, you wonder if he’s just allergic to smiling in general. Have his friends seen him smile? His family? You want to shudder at the thought of being related to someone so…Wonwoo. Your eyes land on one particular recurring commenter: kimhaeun. She’s calling Wonwoo handsome and saying she misses him, and you barf a little in your mouth. If anyone has seen him smile, maybe it’s her. Poor soul. Dating someone as pretentious as him must be miserable–assuming they’re dating, anyway.
Dubu meows again from your lap, which shifts your attention back to her. Tossing your phone aside, you begin to scratch the top of her head. She paws at your phone playfully, which makes you smile.
Until her paw somehow taps the ‘follow’ button.
When you gasp, Dubu jumps off your lap and runs to the other room. You quickly unfollow him, and pray to god he didn’t see anything. You’re not sure you can handle that kind of embarrassment at work on Monday. Besides, who the hell is going to believe your story that your cat followed him?
“Jesus, Dubu.” You exhale as you make sure to fully close out of the app this time.
You set your phone back down on the couch and wander to the bedroom, where Dubu is hiding under the bed. You manage to coax her out and scoop her into your arms again. As you give her a kiss on the head, your phone dings in the living room. You and Dubu wander back to the couch, and you peer down at the screen.
wonulikesgames Followed You!
Monday rolls around, and you’re not so sure how you feel about going into work. The only plus side is that Wonwoo isn’t showing up at the same time as you today, so you can peacefully clock in and head up to your workstation. Tucked under your arm is your sketchbook, where you’ve drawn a few mock-ups for character designs. You spent your whole weekend on them and were truthfully pretty proud of the final product. The game was a big inspiration, though. If the project gets the funding it needs, you already knew you would buy a copy once the company finished making it.
Video games were something you enjoyed from time to time. Honestly, when you got into animation, you were hoping to do something more along the lines of movies or cartoons. It hadn’t crossed your mind to animate for video games until your friend, Hansol, encouraged you to apply for the position at Carat Entertainment. Hansol, much like Seungkwan, is one of your best friends. He went to art school with you, but he left Carat a few years ago to work in an art institute somewhere in Europe. When he lived here, you, him, and Seungkwan were inseparable. You and Seungkwan had even taken a trip to see him a few months ago, and you’d forgotten how fun it was to have the three of you in the same room.
With Hansol leaving Carat, though, you were promoted to his old position. Going from a concept artist to an animator was a dream come true.
Well, until it began to involve Wonwoo.
You’d known of Wonwoo when you were first hired, but your paths hadn’t started crossing until the promotion. Prior to that, you’d smile at him in the hallways, and he’d just ignore it. You figured at the time he was just awkward. When you finally had to work with him, you quickly found out that he just sucked. And as much as he sucked, you despised the fact that he was good at what he did. Like, why do shitty people also get to be talented and smart? It’s a waste, in your opinion. Some of that could go to other programmers you enjoyed, like Jihoon or Soonyoung. They weren’t assholes. Why couldn’t you collaborate with them?
You round the corner towards your workstation, where Wonwoo is spread out with his laptop. Seungkwan is tucked in the corner, looking scared out of his mind that the devil himself is there. Your jaw tightens as you set your things down.
“Good morning.” You say flatly.
“Sure,” Wonwoo mumbles in response. “My computer is broken in engineering. Brought my laptop to work here instead.”
“You couldn’t just work on your laptop in engineering?” You question. “You’re taking up too much room. Seungkwan needs to work, too, you know.”
“We’re working on this together, aren’t we?” He counters. “Besides, I have demos to show you. Seungkwan already told me he didn’t need this workspace today.”
Your head snaps up, finding Seungkwan’s gaze immediately. He mouths, ‘Sorry!’. You roll your eyes. Considering there was no way out or around this, you decide that there’s no point in wasting your energy on it. You slide into your chair as you boot up your tablet.
“Well,” you sigh as you begin to spin, “I have some character designs to show you, too. Glad we both did our work over the weekend.”
Wonwoo is quiet as he types. You’re not sure when he’s planning to show you these demos, so at first you just wait. Your gaze darts back and forth between Seungkwan and Wonwoo, trying to figure out if you should say something else or let Wonwoo approach the topic first. Figuring your colleague wasn’t going to be talking anytime soon, you decide to leave the ball in his court. Spinning in your chair, you face your tablet again. As you begin moving your physical sketches onto the device, you hear a chair get pulled up to your left. You glance, finding Wonwoo there with his laptop.
Of course, he’s ready to show you when you take your attention off him.
You spin to face him, and he gives you a look. It’s not one you can entirely read, but if you had to guess, it was annoyance. It only makes sense that he would hate someone spinning in their office chair. He probably doesn’t spin in his at all because he’s a fun hater. Just for that, you continue to spin back and forth to piss him off even more.
“So, I made the mechanics pretty simple as far as the actual combat goes,” he begins as he faces the screen towards you. “I think the focus should be more storyline-based than combat-based, going off the notes. I’ve created a total of fifteen different fighting strategies so far. Obviously, most of them will depend on the weapon type, but I figure we can flesh that out with whatever you’ve drawn so far.”
He begins to play through his demo. You watch as the filler characters (AKA blocks essentially) move through the space. Wonwoo seems focused, and you hate that he’s so aware of what he’s doing. You hate that he’s good at this. But what you hate even more is the fact that the gameplay looks good. Like, really, really good. Once the demo ends, he looks over to you. His expression is deadpan per usual, but it’s slightly softer, like he’s looking for approval of some kind.
All you can manage to give him is a shrug. “It looks fine.”
“It’s better than fine.” He states. “This is the best combat I’ve made since starting here.”
You know he’s right, but you’re too prideful to give him that justification. You begin spinning in your chair again as you think of what to say that won’t give him any kind of ego boost. Suddenly, his hand grabs the backrest of your chair, promptly stopping you.
“Would you knock that off?” He asks. “Show me your sketches.”
“Fun hater.” You grumble. You turn your back to him to grab your sketchbook, then pass it to him. “All my sketches for the game are towards the back of the notebook. It’s labeled, so you shouldn’t miss–”
“I found them already.” He cuts in. Then, he goes quiet again as he slowly flips through each page. You watch as his eyes carefully examine every drawing, like he’s genuinely observing it and not just glancing. On one page, you watch him trace over the illustration with his hands. He hesitates for a second, and before you can lean in to see what picture it was, he closes the notebook and passes it back to you. “They’re fine.”
You guess you deserve that. Taking the notebook back, you sigh. “I’m going to work on transferring these over to my tablet, and then I’ll begin on animation.”
“You don’t have to tell me everything you do,” Wonwoo says, as he turns his attention back to his laptop. “As long as it gets done, I don’t care.”
You blink. “This is a collaboration, in case you’ve forgotten. When I collaborate, I personally keep my partner in the loop on the status of each stage. You know, like a normal person.”
“But I don’t think that requires giving me every detail,” Wonwoo argues. “Obviously, updates are good, but I don’t need to know what you’re doing every second of your day, Picasso. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you’re doing with your day.”
You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek. For some reason, his words pack a bit more punch than normal. Dwelling on it, though, wasn’t going to fix anything. When you turn back to your tablet to keep working, you’re expecting Wonwoo to go back to the workstation. Instead, he stays firmly planted at your side, typing away on his laptop as if he didn’t just insult you a few seconds ago.
Time rolls on, and the two of you are so quiet that after a while, you forget Wonwoo is even there. You bob your head to the music in your headphones and sway in your chair as you shade and finish some character designs. The color palette you picked looks exactly as you envisioned, and it makes you feel a swell of pride. Almost like reassurance that you do know what you’re doing, and your art degree is paying off.
As you’re shading in the last dragon from your sketches, you hear Wonwoo shift beside you. You glance over to him, and he’s stretching his hands above his head. The sleeves on his white button-down fall slightly when he removes his glasses to rub his eyes. When he puts them back on, he glances at the time. It’s already one, which means you missed your lunch. It is, however, time for his lunch. So, you watch him stand. He locks his computer, but leaves it next to you.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” He announces.
And with that, he exits the department and disappears towards the breakroom. You drag a hand down your face, as Seungkwan all but trips over himself running over to you.
“That was so weird!” He hisses, spinning you to face him. “He just…sat there. All morning. Is he coming back? Will it be like this for this whole project?”
You push Seungkwan off of you. “He just said he would be back in an hour, Kwan. Were you even listening? And, no, it’s only like this until his computer is fixed.”
“What is the project they have you working on? Joshua wouldn’t say.” Seungkwan slides into the seat that was previously occupied by Wonwoo.
“It’s just some new game they’re trying to get greenlit.” You roll your eyes. “They’re making Wonwoo and I work together as a disciplinary action.”
Seungkwan makes a face at that. “So, what, how long are you going to be stuck on this with him?”
“Six months,” You groan, burying your face in your hands. “The only redeeming factor is that the game is so cool. I really want to be part of it, but the fact that it means dealing with Wonwoo–”
“Hey, on the plus side, he’s only insulted you once so far today!” Seungkwan chirps. “He seems to be staying quiet.”
“For now.” You mutter.
He had a point, though. As much as it pains you to admit it, the morning hasn’t been awful. If the project could stay like this for the duration of the six months, you might actually make it out alive.
“Besides,” Seungkwan shifts closer to you, “between you and me, I heard he got a job offer somewhere else.”
As if today couldn’t get any better. You gasp, fully turning your body towards Seungkwan. This deserves full attention, so you shut your tablet off to listen. Seungkwan leans in so nobody else can hear.
“I was in the breakroom an hour ago,” he explains softly. “Soonyoung and Seokmin were in there, talking about how Wonwoo had a meeting with Seungcheol on Friday after you guys left. I guess some big-name company in the States offered him a job, and it pays really well.”
“Do you think he’ll take it?” You ask.
Seungkwan scoffs. “He’d be stupid not to. That’s what Seokmin said, too. I mean, this could be a big break for him. Besides, he had a messy breakup a few months ago. Like, bad messy. So why would he stay?”
Your mind wanders back to the girl you saw in the comments on his Instagram profile–Haeun. Was that who he broke up with? Maybe that’s why she commented that she wished she were with him on his most recent post. Yikes. Well, really, maybe not yikes. She was now single, so you would count that as a win for her. Maybe she’d see it eventually, too.
“Oh god, I am praying so hard he takes it.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “Could you imagine life without Jeon Wonwoo?”
“I’d imagine you’d be a lot more delightful to be around.” Seungkwan remarks.
You kick his leg from under the desk. He winces, then kicks you back. It doesn’t hurt, though. Seungkwan never could put much power behind his physical attacks. He was too nice to do that.
You turn back to your tablet, then happily sigh. “Maybe that will be my motivation for this project.” You hum as Seungkwan returns to his own desk. “One more day of working with him just means I’m one day closer to never seeing him again.”
You don’t even realize it’s late until you finish transferring your final sketch over. You stretch, then glance up. Outside, it’s dark. The office is quiet except for the sounds of Wonwoo’s typing next to you. Grabbing your phone, you glance at the time.
8:47 pm
“Oh, my god.” You say, but a yawn slips out instead. You’ve missed lunch and dinner now, it seems. Dubu will be mad at you when you get home. “It’s almost nine.”
Wonwoo, unmoving, replies, “I know, I saw that a few minutes ago.”
You stand and power off your tablet. As you begin to put all your tools and supplies away, you find that Wonwoo begins to follow suit.
“You didn’t have to stay if you knew it was late.” You comment. “I have a tendency to lose track of time.”
He packs his laptop into his backpack. “I wasn’t staying because of you. I was staying because I had work to do.”
“Right,” you laugh in disbelief. A few seconds pass before you add, “You’re so grumpy all the time.”
Wonwoo looks up at you as he puts on his jacket. “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like you.”
“Well, that’s been established.” You roll your eyes as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Whatever. I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”
As you turn to leave, you hear him quickly say, “Wait. You think I’m just going to let you leave alone?”
You press your brows together. Before you have the chance to look at him again, he’s already by your side. As if he could read your thoughts, he clarifies, “It’s late. This side of town isn’t fantastic at night, and I’m not going to just let you leave by yourself. I hate you, but I’m not a complete asshole.”
The two of you begin walking in silence towards the elevator, and you are incredibly unsure of how you’re supposed to feel in this moment. Jeon Wonwoo, the same person who can never be bothered to do anything for anyone, is now walking you to your car. You already know you’re going to have to call Seungkwan and Hansol when you get home to debrief this. They’re always in the loop on your ‘Wonwoo Moments’, as they’ve dubbed it.
When the elevator doors close behind you, Wonwoo leans against the wall. He sighs, then says, “I saw you followed me on Instagram.”
The blood rushes from your face. You bow your head towards the ground to hide the fact, then clear your throat. “Uh, yeah, that was an accident. I unfollowed you.”
“I know.” He replies. “Why were you looking me up?”
“Jesus.” You laugh, burying your face in your hands. “You’re so straightforward, dude. Have you never casually stalked someone before?”
When you lift your head to look at him, he’s already staring at you. He’s deadpan (shocker), but the fact that he was looking at you makes you feel…weird. It’s not bad, but it’s not good. You don’t really know what it is, but your stomach kind of flips over itself.
“No.” He answers flatly. “I’m not on social media much.”
“I noticed.” You hum. “Your last post was from four months ago.”
“No, I posted last week.” He corrects. You think for a second he’s biting back a smile, but you can’t tell with the dim lighting of the elevator. The doors open, and the two of you are stepping off.
You scoff, looking away from him. “Whatever. You get my point.”
Outside, the February air is crisp as it hits your face. You wrap your arms around yourself as you both trek across the parking lot towards your vehicles. True to his word, Wonwoo walks you all the way to your small, white SUV. When you stop beside it, you’re not sure why you hesitate. But Wonwoo doesn’t move, either, so you sit in the silence.
Seoul is still alive around you, with the sounds of cars passing by and the twinkling lights of the city. It starts to snow lightly, and you consider saying something. Anything. But before you get the chance to act on it, Wonwoo is taking a deep breath.
“Good job today.” He says. “Your designs were really cool.”
“Oh.” You give him a polite smile. “Thank you. You too. I kind of lied earlier. I really liked your combat mechanics.”
Wonwoo laughs, and for the first time in the seven years you’ve known him, you see his smile. His head dips for a second before he meets your gaze again.
“I figured you did.” He admits. “But, I did, too. So I guess we’re even.”
SUMMARY: Your nephew won’t stop complaining about his strict superior at work. What you weren’t expecting was that said superior happens to be your hottest hookup, the one you had a one-night stand with. Did you like it? Obviously, yes. But morally? You should’ve buried yourself in dearth at this point.
PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
GENRE: drama, comedy, fluff, smut, oneshot
WARNINGS: suggestive content (MDNI), dirty talk, strong language, mildly toxic family (mentioned), one-night stand, attempted quickie, sexual tension, heated kissing, homoerotic cuz i can, dick jokes (im sorry), bantering, arguing (in a fun way), little angst hinted about parents' separation.
WC: 12.5k
ADD TAGS❦︎: cafe owner! reader, pr specialist! wonwoo, kim sunoo as your nephew, wonwoo is a jerk but a hot one, barista! boochan, reader is kind of a fujoshi (this was supposed to be a joke), domestic fluff if you squint, invisible string theory hinted, co-enemies to lovers, they're both idiots, teacher! jeonghan mentioned, i do think i am hilarious, roommate! mingyu, hot n cold dynamic, strangers to lovers, secret relationships, this was probably a bad idea.
a/n: hi. we are sooo back in this diamond crack.
The fact that you’re legally an adult is hysterical. If people asked whether you’re an adult, you’d say “yeah”, but not with confidence or anything.
People always say, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” You’ve heard that a ton, but your eyes are fixed on that one specific, emotionally distant salmon commitment issues, mommy issues, and absolutely no idea how to function like a normal human being.
There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is there? Trash. There is a lot of trash in the sea. You even switched out your plastic straws for one-hundred per cent plant-based, edible rice straws made from rice, tapioca, and cornstarch. They’re designed to be sustainable, turtle-friendly, and technically safe to eat. It was often described as having a neutral, pasta-like texture. They were a popular eco-friendly alternative to plastic, even though some people complained that they got soggy in drinks.
You like to think that you have saved the turtles. Maybe even the ocean.
Unfortunately, that still doesn’t stop people especially at family gatherings from bringing up marriage every chance they get. You were perfectly fine living like this. You run your own cafe. You’ve got a side hustle as a web novel writer and webcomic creator though of course they don’t know that.
Your single life has been nothing but peaceful. In this century, it’s a choice. But that doesn’t matter when your relatives keep asking when it’ll be your turn, especially at someone else’s wedding. God forbid a woman enjoys her life without a partner.
They love to hint, no—insist that you’ll end up lonely, growing old like some miserable hag.
Puh-lease. You’ll never be intimidated by people with no class. What are they going to do? Gossip about you with their equally insecure, trashy little circle?
You don’t care. You’d rather die than get married. At least you won’t end up as some miserable wife stuck with a douchebag husband and his broken ass.
The only thing that kept you alive and sane was none other than your beloved nephew, your very first one. Oh, the things you would do for him. You still remember the first time you held him, just a newborn, tiny in your arms. That was the moment you became an aunt at the age of seventeen.
Now, he’s all grown up, living like a proper young adult. Still, you can’t help but see him as a kid. Not that you mind, considering you once gaslit eight-year-old Sunoo into believing he was six just so he could get freebies at a diner when you first babysat him.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, wiping a glass as you watched your twenty three-years-old nephew clutch his head, face buried against the counter.
“Give my regards to the devil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in exhaustion.
“I will.”
Sunoo groaned again, downing another shot of espresso you had made earlier. That was probably his third cup. You gently took it away from him, earning a frown.
“Oh, come on. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter,” you said, sliding a glass of water toward him instead. “I raised a burnt-out perfectionist who occasionally gets bludgeoned into settling for mediocrity.”
Your nephew stared at you incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if he was even related to you. But in the end, he’d take you over his nosy, borderline-stranger aunties who wanted a full autobiography of his achievements. He still didn’t understand why his mom, your sister had trusted you to raise him all these years, well into adulthood.
“Okay, I’ve experienced academic validation, and I’ve experienced academic downfall, and I highly recommend being born into generational wealth—”
“It’s not about that,” he cut you off. “It’s my superior. He’s… I don’t know. Everything about him is just so cranky.”
“What?” You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as you continued stacking cups. “Is he a bully or something?”
“Not exactly. He’s just… kind of mean. Well—he’s just that good at his job.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“That is the problem,” he confirmed.
He continued, “He’s so good at what he does that it stresses everyone out on the planning team. If something goes wrong, he gets intensely serious about it—like, terrifyingly committed.”
There was a brief silence as you listened to your nephew ramble. This was probably just a moment of weakness. He likely just needed to vent.
“No one likes him,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water. “In fact, I don’t think he likes people at all. He probably hates himself too.”
He sighed again. “I made it through the day without throwing a chair at anyone, but this coffee tastes more bitter than usual.” He clicked his tongue. “Probably because I carried his bitterness all the way here.”
After a moment, you looked up at him.
“Feeling better now?
“Yeah,” he finally exhaled.
You’d think his toxic trait was believing another cup of coffee could solve literally anything. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was just being dramatic, but considering this was his second week complaining about his “toxic” workdays, you hoped it was only one insufferable person making him miserable, and not HR tearing him apart. Senior colleagues could be worse. You just hoped he wasn’t being bullied.
You, on the other hand, could drink three cups of coffee and go straight to sleep, one of many things fundamentally wrong with you as a person. In your defense, you buried those bad habits back in university. You’re a changed woman now. At your age, you just wish people would stop asking about your likes and dislikes. It gets old—those endless, generic questions on dates.
You like money and food. You dislike not having money and being hungry.
Please. Don’t add more stress to your life.
Adulting is hard, but it’s okay. At least you don’t need to prove and explain why a triangle is a triangle anymore.
Nobody is busier than someone who isn’t interested in you. And when you say, “I’ll figure it out,” it usually just means you’ll adapt to whatever new level of hell is coming next. You either juggle five tasks at once or stare at a wall, wondering what scene to write for your next update, there is no in-between.
You know you’re hot, but you’re also aware you’re not a full-time hot person. You’re hot when you want to be, depending on the mood. You choose your own hours, make your own schedule. Honestly, it’s freelance hotness.
Just because you live like this doesn’t mean your life is boring. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of hookups—but they’re rare.
Today, however, is different. You went to your usual bar—Velvet Ruby. Mostly because the owner, Jihoon (as you’ve come to learn), is annoyingly attractive. You’re not even utterly shameless at that, the first time you met him (that time you haven’t yet to know he was the owner), throwing flirts here and there, you were tipsy, okay? Still, he finds it amusing despite himself. You usually prefer someone taller than you, but somehow, he still caught your attention.
Tonight, though, you were determined. You wanted a distraction. A release.
The only problem? You’d been sitting there for almost an hour. You were practically waiting for a main character’s entrance, but it seemed the owner had better things to do. Swirling your glass, you watched the wine move lazily inside it, your fingers brushing through your hair as you leaned your cheek against your palm, and then you noticed him.
Sitting right beside you.
You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze lingered on his side profile. The sharp nose, the way his lips brushed against the rim of his glass as he took a sip of whiskey. His sweater was pushed just enough to reveal his forearms, the fabric stretching slightly. You could tell he was well-built underneath. His veiny hands, steady as he held the glass with ease, a watch sitting perfectly on his wrist.
God.
You really wanted him so bad.
As a matter of fact, you even dressed up for tonight—something chic, something that worked both at your cafe and for this. Chan, one of your employees, kept staring earlier. You didn’t say anything out loud, but you did threaten to cut his pay if he kept slacking off.
You feel sexy today, feel good and confident. There was no way you were wasting this night.
As if sensing your stare, the man suddenly turned toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, not threatening, just… observant. His gaze lingered, taking you in without shame.
Jackpot.
Honestly, you don’t care. You were convinced you could hold your liquor pretty well, but you only lived once. You didn’t look away. Instead, you offered a soft smile, teasing as you leaned your chin on your palm, crossing your legs.
“Do you know what bees make?” you asked casually.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly making sure you were talking to him. There was a pause before he answered, humoring you.
“Honey?”
You smiled wider. “Yes, dear?”
A soft chuckle left your lips, you were definitely tipsy now. He looked amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took another sip, his gaze still on you appreciatively, unhidden.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
Your lips curved in quiet victory.
Got him.
...
It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into easy conversation. The small talk here and there, laughter slipping in between. One thing led to another. You have learned that his name is Wonwoo. He mentioned something about work, some company but you barely processed it, too distracted by his deep voice and the way his cologne lingered in the air.
By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had the patience to pretend otherwise. The door barely closed before he pulled you close again, lips finding yours in a kiss that was far from hesitant. His coat was gone in seconds, yours not long after as you were guided back with your breath catching and thoughts slipping.
His touch was warm, firm, leaving a trail that made it harder to think straight. Your head tilted instinctively, giving him more space, more access, your fingers gripping onto him as the moment blurred into something hazy and overwhelming.
A quiet sound escaped you, your mind already spinning, senses dulled except for him.
You stumbled toward the bed, everything felt so messy and impatient. Both of your clothes were scattered somewhere on the floor. It was clear that you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and you never felt so turned on right now. Maybe it’s been a while since you have felt this good.
Straddling him, you leaned down, kissing him again with intense neediness. Wonwoo grunts into the kiss, chuckling softly against your lips at how impatient you are, clumsily pressing on him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, gripping your hips tightly. He grinds up against your core, large hands sliding up your bare back, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulls you flush against his muscular chest. He didn’t forget to lavish your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing your pulse point as he bucks his hips up sharply.
You let out a soft sigh and moan at how intense it feels, catching your breath as your hands come up to grip his soft locks. Your hips instinctively grind on him, rolling your hips down as you feel the thick length of his cock rubbing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of your panties.
A low groan tore from his throat at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening. He slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing the plush globes roughly as he grinds up against you—meeting your slow, sensual movements. “You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” He murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a deep sensual kiss. Drowning in his own needs, he tore your panties away and didn’t hesitate to put the tip of his cock inside your bare cunt.
The sensation itself had left your mouth hanging open, trying to catch yourself at how amazing it feels like. Your grip on him tightened as you slowly sinked yourself down on his dick, mewling at the way he’s stretching you out. “F-fuck—Wonwoo…” you whimper out softly as you started to move your hips.
Wonwoo let out a low guttural moan as your tight walls clenched down around him like vice, gripping his throbbing shaft so deliciously. He literally needed to pause for a moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being fully sheathed inside you before he started to move. “Fuck, baby… so fucking tight.” He murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. You start to roll your hips, working yourself on his thick length. “That’s it—just like that… nice and slow.” Hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and kneading the flesh as he watches your face intently. Taking in every little flicker of emotion and pleasure that crosses your features.
He growls, feeling your pussy clench and squeeze around his pistoning length. God, even his voice is so damn hot, your mind was too drowned by how sexy he was until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Ride me harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.” Wonwoo leans up to bite at your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your skin as he feels your movements turning more desperate and needy.
You started to bounce on his cock with increasing fervour, your ass smacking against his balls with each downward grind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room, spurring him on to fuck into you even harder and deeper.
Your knees tremble on either side of him, digging the sheet for support. Nails digging further into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the way you’re writhing and mewling so sweetly above him. Your cunt milking his cock for all it’s worth.
And it’s so fucking hot.
Wonwoo slams up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your spasming cunt, throwing his head back with a loud groan rumbling from his chest at his release. You moaned out loud too, mouth hanging as you held him tight. The feeling of his release seems to trigger your own, and you feel your body stiffening beneath him as your climax crashes over you.
With one last shuddering breath, he finally pulled back, taking in your blissed-out expression with a satisfied smirk. He peppered soft kisses across your face, his touch unexpectedly tender after everything that had just happened. You could feel your heartbeat racing, matching his.
“More?” you murmured against his lips, a playful smile tugging at yours.
“Thought so.”
Without warning, he flipped you onto your back against the mattress, earning a small yelp from you followed by breathy laughter as he settled himself between your legs. Your little escapade with him continued into the night. After all, the night was still young.
How to say “I hate you" in a nice way? It’s simple. “You are the Monday of my life.” Seungkwan always bristled whenever you said that, usually while you were asking him to clean the grease. It wasn’t even his turn, which would inevitably lead to him bickering with Chan about whose turn it actually was. At this point, you might as well be your own employee at your own cafe.
But hey, you like to think you’re a good boss.
The older you get, the more you understand why roosters just scream to start the day. Back in college, you used to wake up and sit there, contemplating whether to skip class. Maybe cry a little. Your greatest joy was waking up without the crushing sense of responsibility.
Now? You’ve never felt so good. You were actually… happy.
Even your nephew had asked Chan and Seungkwan why you were in such a good mood today. You were practically glowing.
There was no denying it, that one-night stand with that ridiculously attractive man had put you in an excellent mood. It was a shame you didn’t get his contact, though. When you woke up, tangled in the soft comforter, he was already getting ready to leave. He seemed in a rush. You were far too sore and far too comfortable to chase after him. Too much hassle, you thought.
Like some kind of Cinderella, he disappeared just like that. And honestly? You didn’t think you’d ever experience sex the same way again. Not that you were mad or anything. You hate being mad. It takes you almost two and a half years to calm down.
So for now, it was just you and your coffee beans, trying to figure out whether today was even necessary. According to the weather, though—it was bright and sunny. You greeted your customers with a warm smile (which you rarely did), and for once, everything felt… light.
Sunoo stared at you with concern as he blended the coffee beans beside you. “Did she win the lottery or something?” he whispered, leaning toward Seungkwan.
“I don’t know, kid,” Seungkwan shrugged, not even looking up as he handled the pre-orders. “She’s having one of her episodes. I’m not getting involved.” He paused, then added dryly, “It’s either her inner peace is sponsored by caffeine… or sarcasm.”
Your nephew just shrugged it off, continuing to help with the brewing. “By the way, remember when I told you I’d be having a meeting at your cafe? It’s going to be tomorrow.”
You hummed in response, packing cookies as you glanced up slightly. “Yeah, I remember. The place is spacious enough—you can come by around noon.”
“Great. Then I’ll get going… with my daily intake of coffee, as usual.” He smiled, picking up the book he had tucked under his arm.
You paused briefly. Because that cover looked painfully familiar. That was your work, your webcomic. The one that went viral back when you were in college.
“Where did you get that?” you asked, eyeing the cover before looking up at him, suspicion clear in your expression.
You were pretty sure it was old. There shouldn’t even be active copies of it anymore. You had buried that part of your life a long time ago.
“Oh, this?” he gestured casually. “My team’s working on a big project right now. It’s for a campaign we’re handling.” He took a sip from his drink, completely oblivious to your reaction.
It wasn’t like you were sweating, or panicking.
Or internally screaming.
It was just your own damn book—the one your nephew had no idea existed. You wrote it back in college. It was stupid, honestly, and you weren’t proud of it. You literally wrote about two dudes who were roommates and… well, got very close.
Unfortunately, it went viral back then. You had no idea how it resurfaced now, and frankly, you wanted nothing to do with it.
Sunoo glanced at his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go now. Don’t forget about tomorrow! My team and that mean senior will be there too.”
And just like that, he left. Leaving you standing there, wondering what kind of disaster was about to unfold.
...
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Collaboration Inquiry with Carrot Publication.
Hi Belububbles,
I hope this message finds you well. On behalf of my team, our company has previously reached out to your agency regarding a potential collaboration. We were advised to contact you directly; however, we have yet to receive a response to our emails or direct messages.
As this matter is time-sensitive, I would like to request a face-to-face meeting tomorrow at our office, should you be available. Please let us know your availability by today. If we do not hear back from you we will proceed with further steps to move this discussion forward.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
Best regards,
Going Company PR team
+ 82 013-xxx-xxx
You bristled the moment you read the email in your inbox. Just when you were having a perfectly good day, which is ruined. That tone alone was enough to irritate you. Sure, you did ignore unknown callers and random emails. Most of them were spam or obvious scams, and you never bothered checking unless they came through your publication agency.
Still… the audacity.
Come to think of it, Sunoo did mention that his team was dealing with a particulary demanding client. Which probably meant his “superior” had grown a second set of horns by now. You could already imagine someone breathing down his neck, especially with how much he’d been fumbling lately. Not that you could blame him, the expectations sounded ridiculous and apparently, his superior had decided to take it on anyway.
Good thing none of that had anything to do with you.
Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if one day Sunoo quit his job and showed up at your cafe asking for a position. You were short-staffed anyway, it might actually work out.
And now here you are. Standing in front of the Going Company. You had replied to their email yesterday, and they wasted no time contacting you again today. Still, you didn’t appreciate the tone—less of a request, more of a thinly veiled demand.
You rarely made any public appearances for your work. That’s what aliases were for. Working behind the scenes, under your publication agency was exactly how you liked it. You just hoped, really hoped that you wouldn’t run into Sunoo here.
It was a big building after all. Surely, you wouldn’t. Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs
Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs, fingers tapping lightly against your arm. One of the staff had already ushered you in, leaving you alone as you waited for the so-called “representative.” Something about this felt off. And you had a feeling that this meeting was about to get a lot more complicated.
Did you burn your toast today? Nah. That couldn’t be it. But you did burn the cookies. Which meant Seungkwan ended up cleaning the mess after you told him you had an appointment to get to. This is exactly why you have employees. Even if you treat them more like your nieces and nephews despite being around the same age.
The door then opened. Someone had arrived, but of all people you didn’t expect him. You lifted your head lazily, bored and later froze at the sight.
Jeon Wonwoo.
He also stopped mid-step too, one hand still on the chair he was about to pull out, eyes locked on you. Then, slowly he sat down with his hands clasped and composed. Professional. Like nothing had happened. For a second, neither of you moved.
He was dressed in a black turtleneck, lanyard hanging neatly around his neck and glasses. You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He hadn’t worn them the night you met. The two of you just stared for a moment.
Silence filled the air. Awkward and heavy.
Later, you both looked away at the same time, and he cleared his throat. God, you hoped this was just someone who looked like him.
“Belububbles, right?” he began, voice painfully familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you’ve probably realized, I’m the one who emailed you.”
Your brows furrowed. So he was the one behind that email.
“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, part of the PR team. I look forward to working with you. Let’s get started.”
Well. Fuck me.
Just your luck. Your one-night stand, your very recent one-night stand was now sitting across from you, acting like a corporate robot.
You offered him a polite smile. Too polite. It didn’t reach your eyes. “Of course. Now, what is it that you’d like to discuss?”
Wonwoo clasped his hands again, diving straight into the explanation, laying out the project, the campaign, the planning. Every detail, every step. Thirty minutes later, he finally finished. He slid a contract across the table toward you. You raised a brow at that. It was all the NDA, policies and terms whatever it was. You hadn’t even agreed yet and they already prepared all this?
Persistent. Just like his email. What kind of passive-aggressive person was this?
“I’m not going to agree to this,” you said with a sigh, placing the document back on the table. “I don’t do public appearances. I thought you already knew that. My agency always consults me first.”
“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why we’re only proposing pre-recorded interviews. No face reveal—just voice, with filters if necessary.”
You were listening. It is intriguing but you need a lot more convincing to do.
“We just want you to participate in our campaign event,” he continued, confidence steady. “We’re gathering artists and writers involved in the project. You’d have your own merchandise, a chance to expand your audience—”
“I don’t really care about that,” you cut in lightly. “But I do like money.”
He blinked. Clearly not expecting that.
“…Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then would you reconsider? I’ve read your current work—the one you’re still updating. Wouldn’t you want more people to see it?”
You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I’ve considered it. But I don’t want the kind of exposure that comes with it. People dig. I value my privacy. And I have a real-life job too. A big one.”
He exhaled slooowly, clearly trying to stay patient. “What about physical sales?” he pressed. “Printed copies. You mentioned profit—this is an opportunity to maximize that.”
You wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve had enough of that. My agency handles most of it anyway.”
Honestly, you didn’t need them. You had your own ways, holding out your own event, your own marketing. You knew what you were doing.
Wonwoo momentarily paused. Finally, he tried again. “What do you want?”
You met his gaze. He was stubborn as hell. You hadn’t even planned to negotiate. You just came here to make one thing clear. You weren’t interested at all. With a quiet exhale, you stood up. “Mr. Jeon,” you said, already reaching for your bag, “I came all the way here to inform you that I’m not interested. Also, your email? That sounded more like a threat than a request.” You turned toward the door. “Have a great day.”
“I’m trying to be nice here,” his voice cut in, sharper now, “but you’re making my job difficult.” His voice made you pause as he stood up. “You don’t want fame, money—whatever it is. People like you are always so demanding, and yet here you are—”
You turned your back slowly. His gaze locked onto yours.
“…Though I didn’t expect it to be you,” he added, voice dropping slightly. “Not only are you a brat in bed, but apparently in general too.”
Ah.
There it was.
You smiled sweetly, stepping dangerously closer. “Why?” you tilted your head. “Was audacity on sale this year?” He scoffed quietly at that.
“Listen,” you added, voice light, “acting like a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.” you paused. “…Though, unfortunately, in your case—”
Except that he is.
His eyes narrowed, a low, sardonic chuckle slipping out. “You already know what I’m like,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
You glared at him. He didn’t back down either. The silence stretched, until you broke it with a frustrated groan.
“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you muttered, turning back to the door. Then you stopped mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. “For the record?” you added flatly, “It was good dick.” A beat. “But it was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t survive with a dickhead personality like yours.”
You pulled the door open. “It was terrible to meet you, by the way.”
And then you left. Leaving him standing there, rendered speechless, and completely thrown off. You refused to let anyone ruin your day. So, you naturally decided that you did it yourself.
…
Your mood stayed soured the entire day after that meeting with your stupidly, insufferable, annoying, dickhead one-night stand. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look the moment you walked in. They were very aware of your mood swing, and very determined not to become your next victims. It was fine, though. They were used to it.
Chan tried first. “You look extra pretty today.”
“I’m not raising your pay. Go to work.” you said flatly, not even looking up as you handled the cashier.
“Alright,” he nodded, but lingered for a second. “I mean it, though. You’re really pretty today.”
You hummed, then lifted your head slightly. “…You know what? Hell yeah. I am pretty. Being frowny doesn’t make me ugly—it makes me extra hot pretty.”
Seungkwan and Chan exchanged another look again. Seungkwan shook his head and went back to restocking the pastries.
Ah.
Very normal.
A little while later, Sunoo walked in with his planning team. Just like he mentioned yesterday. You flashed them a bright smile as they approached the counter.
“These are my colleagues,” Sunoo introduced casually. “And this is my aunt. No weird comments.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.” you greeted warmly, slipping into your customer-service persona. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”
They greeted you back, placing their orders before heading off to their reserved table. Then, two guys lingered. Both are a couple inches taller than Sunoo, one with a sharp jawline, the other with pale skin and mischievous grin.
The pale one smiled a little too confidently. “Hi. You’re really beautiful. Are you single?”
You blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh—I mean… depends on the day, and fortunately today is a yes.”
Sunghoon and Jongseong snickered, nudging each other, while Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. He hated when people did this, especially his own friends.
“Yeaahhh, we’re done here,” Sunoo cut in quickly. “Three iced americanos.” He dragged them away before they could say anything else.
You just watched them go, already ringing up the order. Just as you were about to take the next customer, a deep voice spoke.
“I’d like to pay for their order, and one iced cafe latte.” You didn’t even look up at the person.
“Okay, that would be—” as your eyes finally met with the face, and about to take his card. You immediately screamed. Like you had just seen a cockroach. Hands flew to your mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.
The entire cafe went silent. Heads turned at the scene. Seungkwan and Chan snapped their attention toward you. Wonwoo, just stood there—card still in hand, eyes slightly widened in confusion.
Meanwhile, from across the cafe, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo and whispered. “Man, I knew Mr. Jeon could be intimidating, but I didn’t think he was that scary. Your aunt looks traumatised.”
You still didn’t move. Didn’t even blink or breathe. Seungkwan slowly walked over, glanced between you and Wonwoo. He immediately took over, seeing that you remained unmoved. “Thank you,” he said smoothly, taking the card and finishing the transaction.
Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at you oddly, and suspiciously. He finally turned and walked straight towards Sunoo. Your eyes followed him. And landed right on your nephew’s table. On his team. He was sitting at the centre like he owned the place.
Oh no.
What the hell.
That was the “mean” superior he’d been talking about?
Sunoo cannot know. He absolutely cannot know about your side hustle. And definitely not about that night. Your nephew had no idea that you and his senior had met not just this morning, but very, very personally before that. He had no idea you and his senior had jumped each other like a trampoline in a hotel room.
You only stood there, frozen. Completely mortified at how insanely small the world was. You could’ve slept with anyone, but certainly not this. Not only did you sleep with him, you also argued with him like cats and dogs this morning.
Great. How amazing.
You wanted nothing more than to dig yourself a grave and lie in it. You could scream or maybe cry a little. You know that feeling when you meet someone and your heart skips a beat? Yeah. That’s arrhythmia. You could literally die from that. From the very first moment you laid your eyes upon him, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life AVOIDING him.
Seungkwan calmly stacked cups while you crouched behind the counter like a fugitive. “You know,” he started casually, “when I used to work at a corporation, I learned a very professional way to say things.” You didn’t even look up. “I’m assuming something bad happened between you and that mean-looking guy over there,” he added, jerking his chin toward Wonwoo’s table.
“I wasn’t.” you sneered.
“It is,” he corrected immediately, like he already knew, and annoyingly, he did. “This was identified early on as a likely outcome.”
“What does that even mean?” Chan popped his head out from the back.
Seungkwan didn’t miss a beat. “It means ‘I told you’ but professionally.”
You abruptly stood up, pretending to busy yourself while sneaking a glance at their table. Wonwoo was speaking behind his laptop, the rest of the team listening intently. Right on fucking cue, his eyes met yours and stayed there. Your gaze hardened, sending him a very clear message, close to a warning or threat. What the fuck are you doing here? Wonwoo merely tilted his head slightly toward his team and mouthed a simple, “Work.”
Oh, he was hilarious. Strangely calm too. Like he was used to handling crises like this. Before your silent rentless fuck you exchanged could continue, you saw Sunoo heading toward you. Instantly, you plastered on a smile. A little too wide.
Your nephew grabbed your arm. “What was that?” he hissed, glancing between you and his table. “Did you really have to scream in his face? I already feel like my soul leaves my body every time he looks at me—if he asks why my aunt is acting like a lunatic, I’m done for.”
You frowned, whisper-yelling back like you were negotiating something illegal. “That was a reflex. He looked too much like my ex.” You blatantly lied, as if you never do that with your nephew through the years of babysitting him.
Sunoo scoffed, grabbing a couple of water bottles. “Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that since I was six. Please don’t embarrass me. For the love of God.” And just like that, he walked back to his meeting.
You exhaled sharply. So much for easy-peasy lemon squeezy. This was more like stressy, depressy, lemon fucking zesty. Life didn’t hand you lemons. It handed you a caffeine addiction, trust issues and zero patience for dickheads like Wonwoo.
So when you noticed him heading toward the restroom, you followed after him. A moment later, he was at the sink, rinsing his hands. He turned around until he was immediately met with you slamming your hand against the tiled wall beside him. He paused, slightly caught off guard. Despite being taller than you, it seems like your anger towards him was taller.
“Did it hurt,” you said sweetly, a sharp smile on your lips, “when you fell out of someone’s asshole and into toilet water, you piece of shit?”
Wonwoo didn’t even flinch. By now, he seemed immune to it. “Not really,” he replied calmly, crossing his arms, “but I know shit when I see one.”
You groaned under your breath, pacing slightly. God, he was insufferable. “Did it have to be my cafe?” you snapped. “Seeing you this morning was already bad enough, and now you just show up here too?”
“I didn’t choose the location,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Though now that I think about it… I didn’t know that ray of sunshine was your nephew.” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping a little closer. “It’s ironic, really.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the devil everyone’s been talking about,” you shot back. “Didn’t realise it was someone that I used to suck his dick—”
You stopped yourself. Barely.
Wonwoo stiffened slightly, adjusting his glasses. Yeah, that landed. You were not sure if he was taken aback by being a worse senior colleague, or that part when you mentioned of sucking his stupid dick.
He clicked his tongue, gaze steady. “Do I look like someone who goes around flaunting his sex life? Exactly. No way in hell.” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer again, voice lowering. “If you agree to the proposal from this morning, I’ll agree to keep things… civil between us.” Then he stepped back, giving you space.
Silence fell. You studied him for a moment. However, he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Just a straightforward goal. He gives off that impression of a guy that has no time for relationships, probably terrible at it. A stubborn, workaholic guy with a nasty temper. Possibly hates himself a little.
Not that you were one to judge. You weren’t exactly easy either. Honestly, you didn’t care about him but your nephew? That was a different story. If Sunoo found out—if he ever found out there was no doubt he’d snitch to your sister. You’ll be dead for sure.
You exhaled slowly, reluctantly even. “...Fine,” you muttered.
Life is like a helicopter sometimes. To begin with, you don’t even know how to operate one. One could argue that you're one step closer to death than to having a stable relationship. Some people belong to the streets, but you’d like to think that you belong to the ponds because you’re just a silly goose.
At this point, you don’t think coffee even wakes you up anymore. You just like the idea of having coffee. That is, until someone had abused your apartment doorbell. At this rate, they might as well have broken it and got arrested for it. This place isn’t cheap, you paid a ridiculous amount of money to live here.
Grudgingly, you swing the door open and there he is. Wonwoo, looking completely unimpressed as he casually steps inside like he owns the place. Meanwhile, you’re standing there in your tousled hair and beluga-pattern pajamas.
“I called you multiple times. You didn’t answer,” he said, crossing his arms, eyeing your outfit. “Did you get my text and throw your phone into the Pacific Ocean?”
You let out a scoff, already walking back to your bedroom, which of course he followed. “I was busy. Why are you even here?” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.
“Busy doing what?” he shot back dryly. “Sleeping at noon?”
“I can be in bed and still be busy,” you mumbled into your blanket. “Busy gathering my strength.”
Wonwoo stared at you incredulously. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was trying not to slam his head into the nearest wall.
“How’s the progress?” he asked instead.
You didn’t answer immediately. Just hummed in against the comforter.
He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply then pulled— no, he freaking suddenly yanked the blanket off you. The cold air hit instantly.
“Okay—what is wrong with you, you psycho?” you snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. “First of all, get out of my room. Second, get out of my house.”
Before he could lunge forward at you, ready to claw his paw at you. Your phone buzzed, signing as you answered without even checking the caller ID.
“I’m heading to your place now,” Sunoo’s voice came through. “I don’t feel like eating cafeteria food—”
Your eyes snapped wide open. “Right now?” you blurted, panic immediately setting in. Wonwoo watched you as you scrambled out of bed, suddenly moving like a hurricane.
Oh, hell no.
Sunoo cannot see him here. Not in your apartment, your room. Just anywhere to be honest. You tried to grab clothes, then froze because this jerk was still here. “Shit—okay, you can’t be here,” you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “My nephew is on his way.”
“What—” Before he could finish, you shoved him out of your room, but the front door unlocked.
Without thinking, you pushed Wonwoo right back into your room and slammed the door shut. Perfect timing. You turned around just as Sunoo walked in and flawlessly smiled.
“Why are you still wearing that at your age?” he said immediately, eyeing your pyjamas.
You ignored that. He walked straight to the kitchen, already opening the fridge, while you trailed behind him. Your eyes dart back toward your bedroom door every two seconds.
“You could’ve asked Seungkwan or Chan to bring you food,” you said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t your mom give you side dishes?”
“She did,” he replied, rummaging through your fridge. “But my roommate ate everything.”
You scoffed. “Just take what you need and go.”
“Why? Do you have a special somebody over?”
Rolling your eyes, you agreed anyway, “Yes, me. I’m amazing and I enjoy my own company.”
Sunoo stared at you for a second. “...Then explain why there are men’s leather shoes at the entrance.”
You momentarily froze at that. How did you fucking forget about it?
Before he could say anything else, you snatched the container from his hands, shoved food into a bag, and pushed it into his chest.
“Okay—out,” you said, dragging him to the door.
“What about—" The door shut in his face. You exhaled in relief, leaning your forehead against the door and turned to see Wonwoo was already out of your room.
“Is he gone?” he asked, peeking out.
“Yeah. Thank God he didn’t ask more questions,” you muttered, rubbing your face. “How did you even get my address?”
“Your agency.”
You groaned, pacing around again.
“Look, I don’t hate you,” he said after a pause, “I’m just not particularly excited about your existence in my life.”
Turning to shoot another nasty glare, you start. “Put yourself in my shoes, idiot. I wouldn’t care if you got hit with—”
“I wouldn’t wear those shoes if I were you.”
You were utterly speechless at the sheer amount of cockiness this guy had. Whenever he was around, you had the overwhelming urge to claw at him like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
“I know, why not ask yourself,” you snapped. “Is my dick big enough to match your attitude?" His brows furrowed at that. “Exactly!” You clapped once.
Aaaand just like that, you were arguing again with him. Neither of you noticed the door opening. Sunoo stepped inside and froze. His gaze moved from you then to Wonwoo.
Back to you, then to Wonwoo again.
Wonwoo was the first to notice. You followed his gaze and stopped. There was a thick, almost heavy silence that filled the atmosphere.
“…Hate that you had to find out like this,” you said slowly.
Sunoo blinked, stepping back slowly. “…Okay,” he said carefully, already putting his shoes back on. “I didn’t know you two were… dating.”
Dating.
Dating???
He gave a small, polite bow. Probably directed to Wonwoo. “Goodbye, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you after lunch.”
The door closed later. And you just stood there, still processing everything that happened. Your nephew now thinks you’re dating the biggest man of shit in your life. You might actually need to fake your death this time.
...
“I think I’m forgetting something.”
“Morals, probably?” Wonwoo said without even looking up from his tablet.
“No, it’s something important,” you insisted, about to rise from your seat. “I think I need to go back to the cafe before Chan sets the place on fire.”
Wonwoo’s head snapped up. “Wait—no. Sit down. We just got here… oh my God.” He dragged a hand down his face beneath his glasses. “For the love of God, can you sit still for one moment? It took almost two hours to get you here, and I already helped drop your twins off at school.”
You sat back down reluctantly. “How long is this interview going to take?”
“Depends,” he replied dryly. “If you decide to be difficult, probably more than thirty minutes, and I’ll have to work overtime.”
“I can’t do that,” you shot back. “I have to attend the twin’s family day. Their dad bailed at the last minute.”
He sighed again, looking seconds away from tearing his hair out. Mostly because you had completely missed the sarcasm.
“Nevermind. Let’s just start.”
He set the voice recorder on his phone and straightened in his chair. “First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to work with us. We’re very delighted.”
“Thank you. It’s my pleasure too,” you answered flawlessly.
“How did you decide to create such interesting characters in most of your stories?”
You thought for a moment. “I honestly didn’t think too deeply about it. I started writing back in college. I met a lot of different people, so I borrowed certain traits here and there.”
“What made you shift from writing novels to illustrating them?”
“I had a lot of free time back then, and writing gave me plenty of ideas. I knew readers enjoyed the stories too. I didn’t want to stop writing, so instead I adapted them into manhwa so readers could visualize them.”
Wonwoo typed something down before continuing. “On a different note—do you wish to publish another novel one day?”
You crossed your arms, considering it. “I don’t think so. I already have too much on my plate, and illustrating takes time. Maybe after I finish my current project, I’ll think about writing again.”
“How did you feel when you learned your first work, And They Were Roommates, rose in sales again?”
You stiffened slightly. “Uh… well, I didn’t expect it to go viral again this year. I guess I was delighted? It was unexpected, but I received a lot of positive feedback too.”
Wonwoo nodded and flipped to the next page. “This is a special question from your readers. How did you come up with so many hilarious dialogues? They found the comedy really engaging.”
“Ah.” You visibly relaxed. “At first, I never meant for it to become a comedy. I just like writing characters who are witty, so I guess readers found that funny.”
“I can see that,” he said, then continued. “Another fan question: did you base your character’s personalities on real people?”
You made a face. “Well… they’re not wrong. I’ve met my fair share of terrible people and let too many assholes into my life. Real-life suffering became entertainment.”
His eyes narrowed. “Language.”
“What? I speak nothing but the truth.”
He only shook his head. “We’re getting nowhere if you keep doing this. I’ve done some self-reflection—if you cooperate, this can end faster.”
“Oh, so you did have a talk with your dick last night?”
Wonwoo immediately paused the recording and stared at you with a long, exhausted sigh. “Can we put that aside? And no, I did not talk to my dick.”
You crossed your arms. “Fine. Next question.”
He resumed recording. “Another fan question: how did you come up with such funny dialogue and plots?”
“Actually,” you said, “I’m not that funny. I think I’m just an asshole, and people assume I’m joking. That’s how I ended up making rude characters everyone somehow loves.”
He paused the recording again. “Would it kill you to give me one normal answer?”
“What? That is my honest answer.”
“It’s not appropriate for the media.”
“Then make it appropriate. That’s literally your job.”
Yeah. The two of you were getting absolutely nowhere.
After the interview, Wonwoo somehow found himself babysitting your niece and nephew, the twins, who were now sprinting around his office. He needed a bucket of caffeine, a fever patch, and divine intervention. Not because of the kids, because you had very clearly dumped them on him like he was a free daycare service.
“What’chu doin’?” Wonhee asked, propping her chin on his forearm while he typed.
“Work,” he answered flatly.
“Oooo. About what?”
“Work.”
“What kind of work?” Wonjun asked this time.
“Work,” he repeated.
“I want Auntie’s cheesecake after this!” Wonhee cheered, bouncing excitedly before both twins ran circles around his desk.
God, just kill me. He was screaming internally.
A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Sunoo, holding finalized planning documents. Wonwoo nearly saw heaven.
“Sunoo!” the twins yelled in unison, rushing him immediately.
“Sorry, guys, I’m at work right now, so I can’t play,” he said, patting their head before looking back at his superior. “Yeahhhh… I actually have plans with the team after this,” Sunoo added awkwardly, already stepping backward.
Even Sunoo knew better than to get involved. He quickly shut the door. Wonwoo turned back to his computer and resumed typing aggressively.
“Uncle Won. Uncle Won. Uncle Won,” Wonjun repeated, tugging at his sleeve.
“What?” he replied flatly, eyes still on the screen.
“I need to go potty.”
Wonwoo finally looked down.
“Now?” The boy nodded desperately.
“If you don’t take him now, he’ll tinkle in his pants,” Wonhee informed him with complete sincerity.
Wonwoo muttered something under his breath, then immediately scooped the boy up and marched out of the office.
The entire team watched in stunned silence. From across the room, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo. “I think you’re getting another playmate soon, dude.”
Sunoo scoffed, scowling as he scrolled through his laptop. “Stop that. It’s not funny. I don’t care. Even if they break up, I still lose.” He pointed dramatically in each direction. “They break up—I still have to see his face at work. They stay together—I still have to see his face at work.” He slumped in defeat, “My life has no winning route.”
...
“Baby.”
Wonwoo looked at you as the twins zoomed around your cafe, clearly bothering your two staff members.
“What?” you shrugged. “You want me to call you fellow associate instead?”
He was one step away from crashing out. First, you made his work life hell. Second, you had dropped the twins off at his office not once, not twice, but three times. Wonwoo was good at his job. Great, even. Then when you walked into his life. The tragedy followed.
“Aunty! Aunty!” Wonhee bounced on her feet, reaching up. You picked her up easily. “Tomorrow I have a soccer match! Teacher Yoon said we can bring our parents!”
“But Papa said he can’t come,” Wonjun huffed, stomping lightly. “Something about work.”
Your heart softened instantly. Your brother was busy running his law firm, and even though he and his ex-wife were divorced, they were still co-parenting well. With their busy lives, complicated timing—that was all.
“Oh, alright then. I’ll go,” you said, giving in easily.
“That’s unfair—I wanna see them play!” Seungkwan popped up from behind the counter.
“Wait—count me in!” Chan added.
You rolled your eyes, setting Wonhee down and placing your hands on your hips.
“No. I need both of you to take care of the café while I’m gone. And Chan, I know you’re just using that as an excuse to slack off.”
Chan dropped the cloth dramatically onto the counter. “Aw, man.”
“Will Uncle Won come too?” Wonjun asked, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg and staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Wonwoo stiffened, his gaze flicked to you. You smiled in return, a little crooked and suspiciously sweet.
“Umm… he’s kinda busy,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shoulder. “He has a big adult job. He might not make it.”
Both twins immediately started whining loudly. For a second, you remembered just how insufferable they could be. The last time you babysat them, they threw a full-blown tantrum over Haribo marshmallow chocolate.
“Okay, stop,” you deadpanned, staring at Wonjun, who had dramatically sprawled onto the floor. “You don’t demand things from someone you barely know. Show some respect to your elders. And get off the floor—it’s dirty.”
“I just mopped that,” Chan added.
You ignored him.
“You and Papa always say the same thing!” Wonjun protested, sitting up. “He says, ‘respect your elders,’ but he never comes to my singing or storytelling!”
…Ouch.
“Yeah!” Wonhee chimed in. “Papa says stuff like that because he’s old and forgetful. Aunty, you’re becoming like Grandpa too.”
“Hey now,” you crossed your arms. “If anything, I’m better.”
Wonwoo nearly rolled his eyes. Wonhee suddenly turned to him, already halfway climbing into his arms. “Uncle Won, please come! I want to show you my super cool kick!”
He froze completely. He looked at her, then at you and then back at her. He said nothing. Mostly because he knew what would happen if he refused. Flashback from his office with all the screaming, he was sure people from the outside could heard that loud and clear.
You caught his eye and subtly shook your head.
Don’t. Encourage. Them.
“Aunty,” Wonjun said suddenly, frowning, “why don’t you want Uncle Won around? It’s like Mama and Papa.”
Your expression faltered. “…Hey. I’m nothing like them,” you said, quieter this time.
That one hit a little too close. You sighed, then reached out and ruffled his hair.
“Fine. We’ll see tomorrow. If we can make it.”
That was enough to make the twins lit up instantly.
From across the cafe, three figures watched the entire scene unfold like a live drama. Seungkwan leaned on the counter. Chan mirrored him. Sunoo stood between them, looking deeply troubled.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Sunoo muttered.
Seungkwan shook his head. “No, no—let them keep going. This is good.”
Sunoo turned to him slowly. “…Good?”
“Would you rather they take their frustration out on us?” Seungkwan pointed out.
Chan nodded immediately. “Fair. Also, there’s a chance our boss might raise our pay if she’s in a good mood.”
He clasped his hands together dramatically. “I will pray for that. I refuse to suffer in a cafe with emotional damage and no bonus.”
Sunoo stared at both of them. “…Yeah. That checks out.”
The exhibition was going well so far. Wonwoo liked to think all his hard work had finally paid off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one thing.
You.
Your mere presence alone was enough to test the last thread of his patience. He just needed to keep his shit together for one day. Just this once.
“You didn’t wear your glasses today,” you remarked, openly scanning him from head to toe, and annoyingly enough, he looked devastatingly handsome. If only he kept his mouth shut. “You’ve stared enough, perhaps?”
His head snapped toward you, brows knitting together. “It’s nine in the morning,” he hissed. “Stop fucking testing me.”
“Ah, ah,” you interrupted, waving your VIP lanyard around obnoxiously. “I’m the important guest here.”
“I should’ve thrown fertilizer at you so you could grow the hell up,” he muttered, trying very hard to remain professional.
“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I were an octopus so I could slap you with all eight tentacles at once.”
He already looked tired. You continued anyway.
“Actually, maybe I’d use them to peg you down so you’d finally learn how to bow your head.”
Wonwoo blinked, once then twice. He genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stared at you in silence, expression unreadable, wondering how you always managed to hit new levels of insanity before ten in the morning.
Right on cue, another familiar figure approached.
“Hey, Wonwoo—oh.”
The man halted when his eyes landed on you. “I didn’t know you were here,” he grinned brightly. “It’s been forever.”
It was Mingyu.
You froze.
Oh, for the love of God.
“O-oh… yeah. Haha.” Your laugh sounded faker than the fake Chanel bag you once bought online. “What an… unexpected reunion.”
Mingyu had been your junior back in college. And unfortunately, very unfortunately—your old BL series was heavily inspired by him. Mostly because he never shut up about his roommate constantly invading his personal space. At the time, you were just a broke college student trying to survive. You never expected And They Were Roommates to blow up the way it did.
People would read shit anything.
Mingyu casually slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked between the two of you suspiciously. He did not like where this was going.
“I work here,” Mingyu explained cheerfully. “Different department though. Remember that roommate I used to complain about all the time?”
He pointed directly at Wonwoo. “Yeah. It’s this guy.”
Your smile twitched violently.
Oh.
Oh, this was bad.
Out of all people, the world really was disgustingly small.
“Real question is,” Mingyu continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “why are you here?”
You absolutely could not tell him you were the main guest of the entire event. So instead, you smoothly covered your VIP pass with your hand and flashed a dazzling smile.
“Oh, you know…”
Before your brain could stop you, you looped your arm through Wonwoo’s.
“Unfortunately,” you sighed dramatically, “for someone who treats life like a joke, I’m being serious this time.”
Mingyu looked unconvinced, very unconvinced. He glanced between the two of you like he was trying to solve a math equation with missing numbers. To him, this pairing made absolutely no sense. You, whose personality is like a hurricane, and Wonwoo—who somehow managed to be equally unbearable in a completely different flavor.
Birds of a feather really did flock together.
“…Good for you guys?” Mingyu finally said slowly. “I mean… wow. Match made in heaven.”
The way he said it sounded less like support and more like disbelief.
Before he could ask more questions, you immediately cut in.
“I’d love to continue this questionnaire, Gyu, but Wonwoo and I have somewhere to be.”
You tugged Wonwoo’s arm tighter. “Right, baby?”
“No? What are you—”
“Oh yes, you do, baby,” you cut him off sweetly, already dragging him away. “I know you can’t wait to see the twins.”
With that, you escaped while Mingyu simply stood there, watching the two of you disappear into the crowd. Hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted slightly, he frowned to himself.
How the hell did that happen? Because as far as he knew, both of you were disasters individually.
...
Here you were, sitting beside Wonwoo while watching the twins’ soccer match. Honestly, he didn’t know how he ended up tangled in all of this. Not once or twice, but somehow—every single time he crossed paths with you, his life became increasingly complicated.
At first, he told himself it was only because of the contract, mainly because of work.That staying close to you made things easier professionally. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.
Your routines somehow became his problems too, and the worst part? He could’ve said no at any point. So why the hell was he still here?
You nudged his arm excitedly while cheering for the twins. “Take pictures,” you whispered. “They’re gonna ask for them later.”
Wonwoo blinked before adjusting the camera lens in his hands and taking several shots without complaint.
At this point, he was more involved than the twins’ actual parents.
“You could at least smile or look excited,” you sighed, finally turning to face him.
The lively noise of families and cheering echoed around the field.
“You look like a robot. What if the twins notice?”
He lowered the camera slowly and looked at you instead. He stared at you with silence, and blank-faced as always.
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need smiling lessons?”
You turned toward him properly, using your fingers to demonstrate. “Okay, look. Make your eyes curve like little shrimp—then lift your cheeks up like this—and…”
Grinning brightly, you continued, “S.M.I.L.E.”
For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you, quietly. The noise around him faded into the background. The wind brushed past gently, making strands of your hair sway under the sunlight in a way that almost looked unreal.
His chest flutters at the sight. It felt oddly similar to the tiny happiness of a stray cat approaching him first, or when his favorite buldak noodles were finally restocked after disappearing for weeks.
It was small and unexpected, but enough to steal his breath away. Wonwoo immediately buried the feeling before it could settle deeper. He cleared his throat, looking away quickly and lifting the camera back toward the field.
You, completely oblivious, muttered under your breath.
“Jerk.”
Then immediately went back to loudly cheering for the twins.
...
By the time all of you arrived back at your place, Wonwoo was carrying your niece while you carried your nephew, both twins completely passed out after dinner with your parents.
At this point, he was involved way too deeply in your family functions.
What made it worse was the fact that your parents didn’t even seem surprised by his presence anymore. It was almost like they had already accepted him and had simply been waiting for the day you finally brought a man home.
Honestly, they probably saw him more often than some actual relatives. He still remembered how your mother kept asking when you were going to get married. And knowing you, of course you only gave half-assed answers.
It reminded him of Mingyu’s grandfather, whose dementia was apparently so bad that he kept asking whether his cousins had jobs.
Ten times.
And ten times, they had to admit they were still unemployed. Honestly, Wonwoo didn’t even think it was dementia anymore. The old man was probably just in disbelief that they were still jobless.
The twins were quickly settled into their room, exhausted after burning through all their energy earlier. You let out a long sigh, stretching your limbs—only to find Wonwoo sprawled across your sofa like a man who had already given up on life.
“Go sleep at your own place, dude.”
“I’m too tired to drive anymore.”
“Not on my sofa.”
His eyes cracked open immediately.
“Let a man rest, would you?” he groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions.
“Ooookay,” you dragged out teasingly, already walking toward your room. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me.”
You paused by the doorway and peeked back at him.
“…In my bed.”
Wonwoo sat up instantly. His interest was fully restored.
“You’re messing with me.”
“Yeah,” you answered easily. “I’m fucking with you.”
You casually started unbuttoning your blouse, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.
Wonwoo’s gaze lingered on your bare shoulders. The loose strap of your camisole slipping against your skin. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. You disappeared into your attached bathroom, beginning to remove your makeup.
“Don’t joke around like that,” he muttered from behind you.
Before you could react, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in.
“I survived your family all day. I deserve proper compensation.”
A soft laugh escaped you as you tossed the makeup wipe into the bin.
“Sleep outside. I’m keeping the bed to myself.”
Wonwoo groaned against your skin, lips brushing along your neck before trailing to your shoulder.
“Seducing me like this isn’t going to work,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your hip while watching him through the mirror.
“Then I’ll make it work,” he murmured.
He nipped lightly at your ear while kicking the bathroom door shut behind him.
You found yourself kissing him again. The kiss was warm and messy, arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as both of you melted into each other like you had been waiting all day for this exact moment.
The bathroom filled with nothing but mingled breaths and quiet laughter between kisses. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, rough palms gliding over your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. Like he wanted to press himself into every part of your life.
Then, a sudden knock came.
“Aunty…”
Both of you froze instantly.
Wonjun’s sleepy voice came muffled through the door.
“I need to potty.”
You blinked, slowly turning toward Wonwoo. He stared back with the exact same exhausted disbelief.
“Just…” you struggled, trying not to laugh as his hands remained stubbornly on your waist. “Just use the guest bathroom, baby.”
“But I don’t know how.”
You nearly rolled your eyes.
Of course this was happening.
“Wonjun,” you sighed, “you’re five. You absolutely know how.”
Then came soft sniffles. Apparently being woken up from sleep was enough to trigger a minor emotional crisis.
You groaned quietly, resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Wonwoo,” you hissed under your breath, “remove your dick from the situation for one second.”
He actually laughed at that before finally stepping away.
The moment you opened the bathroom door, a sleepy-looking Wonjun stood there with watery eyes and messy hair.
You sighed immediately. There went the mood.
After helping him and reminding him to wash his hands properly, you finally walked back into your room—only to find Wonwoo was already under the duvet. He was shirtless, with his eyes closed. Looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.
“Aunty,” Wonjun asked innocently, “why was Uncle Won in the bathroom with you?”
You swore you heard Wonwoo choke back a laugh.
Keeping a perfectly straight face, you gently patted Wonjun’s head.
“Uncle Won has potty problems too,” you replied smoothly. “I was helping him. Just like you.”
A muffled snort came from the bed.
“Now go back to sleep,” you added. “Aunty needs beauty sleep before she turns into a beast.”
Wonjun nodded seriously and shuffled away.
The moment the door shut, Wonwoo opened one eye.
“Potty problems?”
“Shut up.”
You changed into your pajama pants before climbing onto the bed.
Wonwoo’s hands immediately found your waist as you settled onto his lap, his thumbs tracing slowly against your sides while he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
He kissed you again, slower this time. Somehow even worse for your sanity. His palms are kneading your ass, almost tender with his touch. You melted into him instantly, fingers tangling into his hair while he pulled you closer—
right before the bedroom door burst open again.
“AUNTY!”
You yelped in shock, shoving Wonwoo away so hard he smacked against the headboard.
Wonhee stood at the door clutching her teddy bear dramatically.
“She won’t stop crying,” Wonjun complained from beside her. “And I can’t sleep.”
You and Wonwoo stared at the twins in complete silence. Then at each other. Just like that, the rest of the night ended with all four of you cramped together in one bed.
...
The next morning came far too quickly. The entire night had left both you and Wonwoo restless and unsatisfied, but at least everyone had slept peacefully. That was until Wonwoo’s snores woke everyone up, and your nephew loudly declared that he sounded like a car engine.
After throwing together something quick for breakfast before dropping the twins off at your brother’s place, you set the plates down on the table while Wonjun sat comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap, inhaling an entire cup of instant ramen. You genuinely wondered if he even chewed those.
“Thank you for the food!” the twins chorused in unison.
Wonhee sat beside Wonwoo, already picking up her food so she could eat in front of the TV in the living room. You shook your head at the sight.
Then your eyes landed on the little boy sitting comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap.
For once, you had never been jealous of children—except maybe that one time you realised you couldn’t order a Happy Meal in your mid-thirties anymore, which you now used as an excuse to buy them for the twins.
“Wonjun, can you go eat somewhere else? There are plenty of seats around here.”
Your nephew looked up curiously, pancake stuffed halfway into his mouth. “Nope.”
Your eyes narrowed. “You’re five. You don’t need to be babied anymore. Yesterday was one thing.”
Wonwoo didn’t seem bothered at all, still securing the boy comfortably in his arms. “Let him be. Why are you so worked up?”
“Of course I’m worked up. That was my spot before they took it over.”
Both Wonwoo and your nephew stared at you. The silence only broke when Wonhee suddenly ran over holding a handmade card.
“Look! Look!” she squealed excitedly. “I made this yesterday at school. Happy Mother’s Day!”
Your heart melted instantly as you accepted the card with a soft smile, patting her head affectionately. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, darling.”
Wonjun immediately scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and ran toward their room to grab his own version.
You took the opportunity immediately, settling yourself onto Wonwoo’s lap instead. A small “oof” escaped him at the sudden weight.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you should give this to your mom.”
Wonhee leaned against both you and Wonwoo, shaking her head. “I made two! One for mama and one for you because teacher Yoon said Mother’s Day isn’t strictly for biological mothers. You took care of me when I was little, so you have a motherhood role too. You’re basically my mom!”
Then Wonjun returned, proudly handing over his own handmade card filled with messy scribbles and barely readable words.
The twins kissed both your cheeks before running back to the living room.
“They sure love you a lot for someone like you,” Wonwoo muttered.
“It’s a shame I can’t officially be called a mother.”
His palm slid gently against your lower abdomen as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.
“I can change that.”
You immediately slapped his hand away. “Wow, look at you. I’m surprised kids are drawn to an asshole like you,” you replied nonchalantly while taking a bite of your pancake.
“The genes never lied then,” he murmured while squeezing your waist. “There’s a reason you ended up with me in the first place.”
You nearly choked at that, refusing to acknowledge how true it sounded.
“Did you know belugas don’t chew their food? Yeah, it reminds me of you inhaling those noodles. Who the hell eats like that?”
Wonwoo shrugged as he continued inhaling the noodles. “It tastes better this way.”
“Only a psychopath would eat like that.”
“Then tell me who the hell gets jealous over a kid sitting on my lap?”
You stared at him, and he stared right back just the same.
“I’m not jealous,” you replied a little too quickly.
“Who said it was you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and you immediately wanted to slap the hell out of him.
“Anyway,” you quickly changed the topic while sipping your tea, “did I know you from somewhere? How did you and Mingyu know each other aside from being roommates?”
He thought for a moment, adjusting himself while you still sat comfortably on his lap. “We went to the same school and university. He doesn’t like sharing spaces with strangers.”
You mused at the information. “You went to the same school as me? Why did I never see you around?”
“I was in the Faculty of Business and Management. Maybe that’s why. Mingyu took architecture before changing to finance and accounting.”
You paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh, I was in the Faculty of Applied Science… something like that. I guess that’s probably why I never saw you.”
“What did you major in?”
“Food science,” you answered simply.
After a brief silence, you spoke again.
“I’m surprised you and Mingyu haven’t kissed each other’s asses yet.”
“I know I’m an asshole, not an assfucker.”
You burst out laughing at that while reaching for his wallet and flipping through his ID picture and cards.
“What do you call a baby whale? A little squirt!”
“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned. “Give me that. Don’t go checking what’s inside.”
Did you listen? Of course not. When have you ever listened to anyone anyway? You barely listened to your parents, so why would you start with him?
“Knock knock,” he suddenly said.
You raised a brow but played along anyway. “Who’s there?”
“Whale,” he answered simply.
“Whale who?”
“Whale…” He paused before immediately snatching the wallet away from your hands. “That’s enough of that.”
You rolled your eyes before shamelessly eating half of the ramen that clearly belonged to him.
“I hope your entire generation experiences bad luck in every possible streak.”
He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll just marry you then. We’re going down together whether you like it or not.”
“Give me your card.”
“No. Use your own, you have money.”
“You said you’d marry me. I want to be spoiled,” you whined dramatically while leaning against him like an oversized cat. “I’ve had enough of being the alpha woman all year long.”
“I don’t want you using my money to buy your own diamond ring. I want to buy it for you.”
You turned your head toward him properly this time.
He looked completely serious.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m not being sarcastic today. Maybe tomorrow, though.”
Before you could even process that, the twins suddenly came running over excitedly. Wonhee repeatedly called your name as if you weren’t literally sitting right there.
“When can I see you become a princess one day?” she asked excitedly, twirling around while showing you a picture of a bride on her tablet.
You hated admitting it, but every year you were reminded that maybe you would never become one—though you were certainly close to becoming a witch.
Still, you smiled softly.
“Oh, maybe soon.”
The little girl gasped excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean Uncle will be your prince? And I want to stay with you the whole time when you become a princess!”
“I think he’d be more like the villain who stole the princess away rather than Prince Charming.”
“Villains are way cooler,” Wonjun added confidently.
Wonwoo merely rolled his eyes at your comments.
“Besides…” you trailed off, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his. “The evil ones are always hotter…”
You chuckled softly before kissing him, earning a smirk from Wonwoo almost immediately.
The twins loudly made gagging noises before scurrying away to continue playing around the living room. You and Wonwoo watched them go before falling back into your own little world together, spending the rest of the morning tangled up in each other before the weekend truly began.
Unfortunately, your love life never unfolded like those Prince Charming fairytales. Instead, it felt more like a ridiculous romcom sitcom filled with stupidity, arguments, and way too many unfortunate coincidences.
Unfortunately, you never met him sooner back in school. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have spent so long giving up on love.
Fortunately, though, you loved the way invisible strings worked.
It was beautiful that way. And fortunately, this piece of shit was yours forever to keep.
FIN.
a/n: omg, i'm finally free!! now i can focus on cheol's fic. it wasn't supposed to be so long, i spent the entire time writing shit in here. i tried eating noodles without chewing btw, almost left me choking to death and never again. it's always the shitty fic that everyone enjoyed, goodday apples! comments, reblogged are appreciated :)
The digital clock on Wonwoo’s nightstand glowed a steady, mocking blue, marking the time as 2:14 AM. In the silence of his room, the only sound was the soft hum of his computer fan and the rhythmic, comforting static of your breathing through his headset. This had become the unspoken architecture of your weeks the "Midnight Shift." You would both start the night with a simple text, an inconsequential observation about a movie or a song, and somehow, that thread would pull you both into hours-long video calls that didn't end until the sun threatened to peek through the blinds. On the screen, Wonwoo looked softer than the world ever got to see him; his sharp features were muted by his oversized glasses and the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, free from the lacquer of stage styling.
"You’re doing that thing again," Wonwoo murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrated in your ears. It was a sound reserved only for the deepest parts of the night. "Your eyes are fluttering. Just go to sleep, Y/N." You shifted against your pillow, adjusting your phone to keep his face in view, stubborn despite the heavy pull of exhaustion. You told him you weren't tired, a blatant lie that he met with a small, knowing smirk. There was an intimacy in these hours that felt fragile, like a secret kept from the rest of the world. He didn't hang up, and neither did you; you both just existed in that hazy, comfortable space where "just friends" felt like a title that was becoming too small to house everything you actually were to each other.
When you were together in person, that invisible tether only tightened. It was in the way you naturally gravitated toward each other in a crowded room, or how, during movie nights at the dorm, you’d end up sharing a single throw blanket on the floor. You would lean your head on his shoulder, and he would respond by shifting his weight to make you more comfortable, his arm draped casually behind your back. To you, it felt like the ultimate safety a platonic sanctuary where you could be yourself.
But to anyone watching, the physical gravity between you was undeniable. He would touch your arm to get your attention, or rest his hand on the nape of your neck while explaining something, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin that sent quiet jolts through your system.
The reality of your "closeness" usually came crashing down the moment the other members entered the frame. The following afternoon, when you stopped by the Pledis practice room with a tray of iced Americanos, the atmosphere shifted instantly from professional focus to relentless mischief.
As you handed Wonwoo his drink, your fingers lingered against his a habit you hadn't even realized you’d formed. He didn't pull away; instead, he stepped into your space, his tall frame shielding you slightly from the rest of the room. It was a domestic, quiet moment that lasted all of five seconds before the peanut gallery opened fire.
"Oh, look, everyone," Soonyoung announced, his voice echoing off the mirrors as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "The 'Best Friend' has arrived with the life-giving caffeine. Though, judging by the dark circles under Wonwoo’s eyes, maybe she should have brought him a pillow instead. How long was the call last night? Three hours? Four?"
Wonwoo’s ears immediately flushed a deep, tell-tale crimson, a stark contrast to his cool demeanor. He took a slow sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the way Mingyu was now leaning over his shoulder with a predatory grin. "We had things to discuss," Wonwoo muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. Mingyu let out a loud, dramatic scoff, looping an arm around Wonwoo’s neck. "Things to discuss? At 3:00 AM? I tried to call him to ask about a game level, and I got the busy signal for two hours. I’m starting to think I need to schedule an appointment just to talk to my own teammate."
The teasing was relentless a chorus of "oohs" and fake heart signs from Seungkwan and Chan but through it all, Wonwoo never moved away from you. Even as he told them to shut up and go back to practice, he kept his hand hovering near the small of your back, a silent, grounding presence. He treated the teasing like background noise, but as he caught your eye and gave you a private, tired smile, you couldn't help but wonder if the "friends" label was a shield you were both using to hide from a truth that everyone else could already see.
Does the constant commentary from the guys make you want to pull back to keep things "normal," or does it make you more curious about why Wonwoo never actually denies what they're implying?
The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with the scent of floor wax and the lingering energy of a grueling dance session, but for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Despite the chaotic energy of thirteen other men buzzing around, Wonwoo stayed anchored right where he was. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours, even as Seungkwan began a theatrical reenactment of what he imagined your late-night conversations sounded like. The members’ laughter bounced off the high ceilings, but Wonwoo’s focus acted like a silencer, turning their jokes into nothing more than white noise.
"Don't listen to them," he said softly, his voice cutting through the din. He reached out, his long fingers brushing a stray thread off the shoulder of your sweater. The gesture was so casual, so inherently domestic, that it drew another round of whistles from the corner where Hoshi and Dino were stretching. "They’re just bored because the choreography is giving them a headache."
"Is that why your phone bill is probably higher than the national debt?" Mingyu chimed in, passing by to grab a towel. He gave Wonwoo a pointed look, one that said he wasn't buying the 'boredom' excuse for a second. "I’m just saying, Y/N, the guy sleeps through his alarms every morning now, but he never seems to miss a notification from you. It’s a medical mystery, really."
You felt the heat rising in your own cheeks, a frantic fluttering in your chest that you tried to suppress with a nervous laugh. "We just lose track of time," you offered, though even to your own ears, the explanation sounded thin. You looked up at Wonwoo, expecting him to finally jump in and set the record straight to tell them they were overstepping or that it wasn't like that but he didn't. Instead, he just hummed in agreement, his thumb absentmindedly grazing the side of your hand where he still held the coffee cup. It was a silent admission, a refusal to deny the tether that pulled the two of you together when the rest of the world went to sleep.
As the leader called for them to get back into formation, the members began to disperse, still throwing parting shots over their shoulders. The sudden quiet left a strange, heavy tension between you. Wonwoo stepped even closer, his shadow falling over you, shielding you from the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. For a second, his cool, composed mask slipped, and you saw the same vulnerability that usually only emerged at 3:00 AM over a grainy video feed. He looked like he wanted to say something something that had nothing to do with being "just friends" and everything to do with the way he reached for his phone the moment he woke up.
"I'll call you later?" he asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the others. It wasn't a question of if, but when.
"Always," you whispered back.
He gave you one last look a lingering, searching gaze that felt like a physical touch before turning to join his team. As you walked toward the exit, you could hear the distant sound of the music starting back up, but your mind was already miles ahead, counting down the hours until the sun went down and the blue light of the digital clock signaled the only time of day that truly mattered. The teasing might have been a joke to the guys, but as you felt the ghost of his touch on your hand, you realized the punchline was starting to feel a lot like the truth.
The transition from the practice room to the real world felt like stepping into a dream that was finally gaining clarity. A few nights after the teasing in the studio, the two of you found yourselves walking through a secluded park near his dorm. The air was crisp, smelling of damp earth and late-blooming jasmine, and the moonlight turned the paved path into a silver ribbon. You were walking so close that your sleeves brushed with every step, a rhythmic friction that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
Suddenly, Wonwoo stopped. Without a word, he reached out and pulled you into a hug that felt different from any of the casual leans or "friend" embraces you’d shared before. This was a grounding, heavy embrace; he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he were trying to memorize the exact shape of you. You stood there for a long time, the silence of the park wrapping around you, both of you realizing that the "safety net" had finally snapped.
That hug set a fire that culminated a few nights later. The call started at 6:00 PM, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, and it didn't end until 3:00 AM. There were no games, no videos to watch together, and no distractions. It was just a raw, nine-hour conversation that stripped away every defense you both had. The words "I like you" finally spilled out, whispered into the receivers of your phones like a shared secret that had been kept for too long. He told you he had felt this way for months; you told him he was the only thing you thought about. When you finally hung up to sleep, your heart felt lighter than it ever had. You fell asleep with a smile, convinced that everything was about to change.
Then, the silence began.
The "morning after" text you expected never came. By 12:00 PM, you figured he was just sleeping in after the marathon call. By 6:00 PM, you assumed practice was running over. But by the next morning, the pit in your stomach began to grow. Your "Good morning" text sat unread. Your call that evening went straight to voicemail. One day turned into three, and three days turned into a week.
Wonwoo went completely M.I.A.
The silence was deafening. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart leaped, only to shatter when you saw it was just a weather alert or a group chat notification. You went from being confused to being hurt, and finally, to feeling a soul-crushing sense of regret. You replayed that nine-hour call in your head a thousand times, dissecting every word you said. Did I say too much? Did I scare him off? Was the confession just a lapse in judgment for him?
The weight of being "played" began to settle in your chest like lead. You felt like a fool for believing the late-night whispers and the way he had held you in the park. You felt exposed, having laid your heart bare to someone who could suddenly treat you like a stranger. The teasing from his friends, which used to feel cute, now felt like a cruel irony. You felt like shit discarded and ghosted by the person you trusted most.
For two agonizing weeks, Wonwoo became a ghost. You saw him on social media updates for the group looking tired, looking busy, but looking fine while you were falling apart in the quiet of your room. The space where your nightly calls used to be was now filled with a hollow ache, and you found yourself staring at the digital clock at 2:14 AM, regretting the day you ever let yourself believe that a "best friend" could be something more.
The tears didn't come all at once; they arrived in waves, crashing over you the moment the reality of the silence finally broke your spirit. For the first few days, you had been numb, staring at your phone screen until the light burned your retinas, waiting for a dot to turn green or a typing bubble to appear. But by the fourth night, the dam broke. You were sitting on the edge of your bed at 3:00 AM the hour that used to belong to him and the sheer, suffocating weight of his absence became physical. You curled into a ball, clutching your pillow to your chest, and sobbed until your throat felt raw and your eyes were swollen shut.
The pain wasn't just about the silence; it was the humiliation that followed it. Every sob was punctuated by a memory of that nine-hour call. You felt sick to your stomach remembering how you had whispered your deepest insecurities to him, how you had let your guard down so completely because he had made you feel safe. Now, that safety felt like a trap. You felt played, like a temporary distraction he had used to fill his lonely hours until he decided he didn't need you anymore. The thought that you were just a "phase" or a "mistake" he was now trying to erase made you let out a broken, jagged cry into the dark.
Days bled into one another, marked only by the stains of salt on your cheeks. You stopped checking your phone because the sight of his name still sitting there at the top of your recent contacts was like a knife twisting in your gut. You felt like a fool. You remembered the way he had held you in the park, the way his heartbeat had thudded against your ear, and you hated him for it. You hated him for making you feel loved only to leave you gasping for air in the vacuum he left behind. You went to sleep crying and woke up with the heavy, leaden realization that he still hadn't called, his ghost haunting every corner of your room.
By the second week, the sadness had turned into a hollow, aching exhaustion. You looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back someone with hollowed-out eyes and a spirit that felt permanently bruised. You regretted everything. You regretted the first time you stayed up late to talk to him; you regretted the coffee runs and the shared blankets. Most of all, you regretted the confession. You felt like you had handed him the weapon to destroy you, and he had used it without a second thought. The silence wasn't just a lack of communication; it was a loud, clear message that you didn't matter as much to him as he mattered to you, and that realization was a grief so profound it felt like it would never end.
The second week drew to a close, and the grief had shifted from a sharp, screaming pain to a dull, constant throb. You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your movements sluggish and mechanical. The silence of your phone had become a permanent resident in your life, a cold companion that sat on the nightstand reminding you of your own foolishness. You had reached the stage of heartbreak where you weren't even angry anymore; you were just empty. You felt as though you had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but the echoes of his promises and the lingering scent of his laundry detergent on a hoodie you couldn't bring yourself to throw away, but couldn't bear to look at.
One evening, you found yourself sitting on the floor of your kitchen, the cold tile pressing against your legs. You hadn't turned the lights on, letting the blue twilight of the city seep through the windows. You thought about the park how the moonlight had caught the bridge of his nose, how his hands had felt so steady on your waist. You realized with a fresh burst of tears that you weren't just mourning a crush; you were mourning your best friend. He was the person you went to when the world felt too heavy, and now, he was the reason it felt impossible to breathe. By cutting you off, he hadn't just taken away a potential future; he had reached back and poisoned every memory of the past three years.
Every "I love you" you had whispered into the phone during that nine-hour marathon now felt like a debt you had paid to a person who never intended to pay you back. You felt cheapened, as if your vulnerability was something he had collected like a trophy before moving on to the next thing.
Then, on the fourteenth night, the silence finally broke.
You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, your eyes dry and burning from days of crying, when your phone vibrated on the mattress next to you. The sound was so foreign, so sudden, that you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart, which had felt like a lead weight for two weeks, gave a violent, painful kick against your ribs. You didn't want to look. You told yourself it was a wrong number, a spam call, or Mingyu checking in to see if you were still alive. But when you reached out with a trembling hand and turned the screen over, the name staring back at you was the one that had been etched into your brain for a fortnight.
Wonwoo.
The screen glowed with his contact photo a candid shot you’d taken of him laughing over a bowl of ramen. For a moment, you couldn't move. You just watched the phone vibrate, the "Accept" and "Decline" buttons blurred by the sudden, hot arrival of new tears. Two weeks of agony, two weeks of feeling like garbage, two weeks of wondering if you ever mattered at all and now he was calling at 1:15 AM as if the world hadn't ended in his absence.
Your thumb hovered over the red button. You wanted to reject him, to let him feel even a fraction of the coldness he had shown you. You wanted to scream at him for what he had done to your sanity. But as the call reached its final rings, the desperate, pathetic part of your heart the part that still loved him despite the wreckage won out. With a shaky swipe, you answered, but you didn't say a word. You couldn't.
The silence on the other end lasted for a long, agonizing minute. All you could hear was his heavy, ragged breathing, sounding as though he had been running.
"Y/N?" his voice finally broke through. It wasn't the smooth, deep voice from the confession. It was wrecked thin, hoarse, and trembling with a level of desperation that stopped your breath in your lungs. "Please... please don't hang up."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SYNOPSIS. jeon wonwoo, the perfect man. kind, smart, successful career, and not too bad on the eyes. all his friends are getting married and everyone’s aunts, mothers, and family friends are trying to set him up with their friends, sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews at every wedding he attends. he’s tired of it. what better way to solve his problem than to employ your help, someone who’s having the exact same one?
NOTES. fake dating, non-idol au, photographer!wonwoo, florist! + gn!reader, fluff, angst if you looked hard enough (honestly, it’s kinda cheesy lol)
WC. ~10k
also contains. food mentions + one swear word
You first meet him in hiding, behind one of the heavy white curtains around the large elegant wedding hall.
Normally, you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the better of you, but seeing a pair of shiny black shoes peeking through beneath the heavy fabric threatened to send your brain into overdrive. You hesitate for a few seconds, was this really any of your business? You weren’t supposed to attend the ceremony in the first place, let alone the actual reception. What if this stranger was an actual weirdo?
You look around the crowded reception hall; there are plenty of potential witnesses. Shrugging your shoulders, you reach a hand out to take a peek behind the curtain.
What you didn’t expect to find was a man, a very good looking one at that, asking in the most quiet voice he could possibly muster, “Are they gone?”
🎥 banner in collab w @cherrytigercreations / buy prints here
pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
genre: smut, fluff, lots of angst, friends to lovers
summary: after one impulsive hookup in college, you and your best friend, wonwoo, decide to stay just that — friends. years later, you’re both still pretending that’s enough. and because neither of you is brave enough to risk ruining what you have, you choose the most logical solution possible: you start setting him up on dates with other women.
warnings: major slowburn / smut at the end, oral (f!recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise, wonwoo service top 4ever<3, miscommunication, fixer!reader, reader and wonwoo are major idiots in love, mutual pining (over almost a decade). nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 33.2k
note: first thing I wanna state — I’m so incredibly sorry for how long this took! if you saw some of my posts over the last few months, you know how I just kept getting sick and that really deterred writing this, BUT I FINISHED IT 🙌 second thing — I need you guys to prepare in advance to either get incredibly annoyed by the reader or relate to her a little more than you’d like to admit LOL it might hurt but I promise the payoff is worth it !! at the end of the day, I really like writing real stories that could happen to anyone. no matter what age you are, there might be a moment where you’re a little messy or you avoid your feelings for your best friend for years! lol I hope this makes you feel things and maybe even cry a lil. I won’t tell 😇 enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)
also a huge thank you to @cherrytigercreations for collabing with me on the banner! we have been friends for so long and I’m so excited we finally found an opportunity to create something. please check out her shop here! 💓
in rotation: blame me, monsta x / move me, charli xcx / another life, sza / our day will come, amy winehouse / daylight, taylor swift / it's always you, chet baker / soft, lany / like the movies, laufey
I.
I looked at him, and I thought, “If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.” I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway. –JENNY HAN
April 22, 2017
You always woke up before your alarm, but something was different this time. Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the pile of clothes strewn underneath the bed. The dorm walls were bare and that ugly yellow color, instead of being covered in your favorite movie posters. A fan was whirring in the corner of the room. The TV was still on, projecting the title screen of the game you and Wonwoo had been playing last night.
That was when you realized this wasn’t your room. This was Wonwoo’s.
And all your clothes weren’t on.
Creeping your hand up from the sheets, you turned the alarm off on your defective Android that your dad bought you for the cheapest price possible. Sometimes the alarm didn’t work, but you didn’t want to chance it this morning. You carefully moved off the mattress, almost falling when you noticed that this twin sized bed was higher up than the one in your dorm, and began to put on your discarded clothes.
The frame creaked.
Your body froze, unsure what to do, before you continued to step into your leggings and turned around.
Wonwoo was sitting up, the bedsheets falling carelessly down and exposing his bare torso. His was skinnier than you assumed. The oversized shirts he wore concealed his lanky form, but it was intentional. His hair was sticking up in every other direction as he put on his glasses, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. His frames were broken on one side, the arm being held together with shitty tape.
When he finally noticed you standing and putting your legs into the tight spandex of your leggings, he remembered everything that happened the night before. You asking to come over past visiting hours. The video game. The kiss. Needing relaxation before a grueling set of final exams next week. “Maybe we should try,” you had said. “Just once,” he had agreed. And now, there was a used condom in his trash can and he was trying not to gawk at it.
You were both just sophomores in college, but you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially when it meant crossing the lines of friendship.
Tugging on your shoes, you said, “Maybe I should –”
“Coffee?” He suggested, voice rough from sleep. It affected you, somewhat, and you realized how much you liked him like this: unpolished and disheveled. “Avalon dining hall has free coffee and pastries on Saturday mornings.”
You nodded, all awkward. “Sure.”
Following slightly behind him, you walked to the dining hall, trying not to make eye contact with any classmate that passed by. You wondered if they could see it written all over your face: not exactly shame, but something deeper. Maybe self-consciousness, like you’d been caught in the act. Wonwoo was wearing the same t-shirt from the day you met in class – the one with a small hole on the sleeve, a faded graphic of Godzilla on the front – as the morning sun beat down on you two, promising a hot summer ahead.
You picked out a table in the dining hall as Wonwoo went up to get your coffees. He put them in paper cups rather than mugs. Avalon food was good, but the dishware tended to be sticky, even when they cleaned it. He found you at the small table in the corner, somehow holding two coffees while balancing a plastic plate of chocolate croissants on top of one. You accepted your coffee with a tense smile, immediately taking a sip and forgetting how hot it would be. Wincing, you pulled apart one of the croissants, hand pulling back quickly when your fingers almost touched his.
You two had been friends since freshman year, and you had never shied away from him like this. But after last night … it was like his fingertip had the ability to electrocute.
Silence echoed. The dining hall was only partially filled – it was the weekend, after all – and you had said hi to your friend, Seungkwan, when he passed. Neither of you were looking at each other, eyes focused on something else. For Wonwoo, it was the bee buzzing just outside the window next to your table.
You cleared your throat as you traced the rim of your coffee cup. “Well, I guess this awkwardness proves that we’d be terrible at casual.”
Finally, he relented. Your playful comment making a snort escape from his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, still staring at your cup. “Yeah. Imagine what it would be like if we actually tried,” he quipped.
Your eyes lifted to his, stunned for a moment. Just a moment. Because you couldn’t dwell on what “actually tried” meant. Dating? Wanting? Choosing each other on purpose? You were both just shy of 21. You couldn’t possibly know what you wanted.
But then the night was coming back in flashes. You remembered the way he kissed you slow at first, before deepening it and how you couldn’t hold back the moan when his tongue explored your mouth. He had taken his glasses off, making sure to cautiously place them on his bedside table, or else they would break again, and he was so … handsome. Well, of course, Wonwoo was handsome. You weren’t blind. But it was different up close, without his glasses. When he was staring at you not just like a friend, but as something more. Like you were everything he had ever dreamed of. It was just you and him breathing heavily against each other’s mouths while taking in your appearances, and then going in for the kiss again. Last night had been his first time going down on a girl, but it had been the best experience of your life. Granted, you only had one person go down on you before him. His talent was truly unmatched though. And the way it felt when he finally pushed into you –
Only a second passed. It had felt like hours.
You laughed too fast, shaking your head. “We’d have ruined everything.”
Wonwoo paused, a mere breath. “Or –”
You watched him. Even your finger on the rim of your cup hesitated, as if your entire world depended on the next words that came out of his mouth.
He closed his mouth, smiling, and then shrugged. “Yeah,” he agreed, “ruined everything.”
In freshman year psychology, your professor had briefly touched on origin wounds – deep, emotional scars that shape core beliefs about self-worth, safety, and especially, trust, making you repeat patterns in adulthood. You didn’t realize it at the time, and Wonwoo surely didn’t mean for it, but this was one of your origin wounds: the point where everything went wrong by dishonesty, by being too reasonable.
Maybe it was an origin wound for both of you.
Your expression was perfectly schooled, lips curving up as you reached across the table with your hand. “Just friends?”
He hesitated, biting his lip for the longest minute of your life. Until eventually … his large palm closed over yours.
“Just friends,” he promised. “Hopefully, for many years to come.”
February 12, 2026
Dusting snow flurries off his black beanie, Wonwoo was grateful that you gave the second key to your building to him rather than someone else. Not that you wanted anyone besides him in your personal space, anyway. You weren’t answering your phone when he arrived, so he let himself in, setting his wet hat and gloves on the antique space heater you still kept in your kitchen. It was so old; you were pretty sure it came from your grandmother that died before you were born. But it worked like a champ, and he was able to shed off his coat just before the pizza box almost fell from his hands.
Ever since you both moved to the city 3 years ago, you established a ritual for him to come over to your apartment on Thursday nights and watch a movie you both never saw before while dining on some of the worst reviewed takeout spots. You both begged to differ. Thursday movie night just made sense, seeing as the two of you bonded in a college course on the history of cinema.
He turned his head to catch the apologetic smile you were throwing his way. That’s why you hadn’t answered his text. Despite the late hour, despite the fact that you left the office three hours ago … you were on the phone with your boss about a change in his flight. You weren’t his assistant; you were actually far above that in the company. But you always agreed to help. If you didn’t answer his call, no one would.
Plopping down on the couch beside you, Wonwoo scrolled through his phone and listened as you talked your anxiety-ridden boss down from the ledge. It reminded him of last week when he came over and you quickly told him to set down the pizza in the kitchen while you sat on your bathroom floor and smoothed over a conflict your work friend, Jennifer, had texted you about. Something about a boyfriend. You didn’t sweat it, never missing a moment to give practical advice.
He had been watching you fix everyone else’s problems your entire friendship – half amused, half exhausted by how you never did the same for yourself. It’s always been something you never had a problem doing, but he saw how much it weighed on you. You never complained though. He wondered sometimes if it was tearing you up inside to complain. Just once.
When you finally got off the phone, you let out the heaviest sigh and fell back, resting your head on his thigh. Physical contact like this had never meant much to the both of you, but still, his finger did stop scrolling. His breathing paused, too focused on himself to notice that maybe yours had faltered too.
“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Sal put extra cheese on the pizza, right?”
Wonwoo clicked off his phone and let it collapse on the couch cushion. Instead of answering your question, he said, “You’re always doing that – fixing people. I’m sure your boss could’ve figured that out on his own.” He looked down, meeting your eyes as they tilted up to his. “I know you’ve insisted it’s not a big deal, but –”
“Trust me, he wouldn’t have been able to figure that out. He’s never struggled with anything in his life.” You played with your fingers on your lap. “Besides, being praised at work after I help someone feels better than anything, even an orgasm.”
Your latter comment made him bite the inside of his cheek, just for a second, and he ignored it before adding, “It’s not just at work. It happens all the time. You know I’m right.”
You exhaled even louder, more dramatic, and sat up. Your hair was slightly messed up in the back, but you felt his eyes on you. Felt them burning into your cheek as if he had powers. Wonwoo always looked at you that way: like he cared a little too much, kind of like the way he stared at you when you were young and stupid in that godforsaken dorm room. You couldn’t deny that you were guilty of doing the same sometimes, whether it be in a dark movie theater where he was far too focused on the screen, or when he took the liberty ordering for you at a bar because he knew the bartender liked him. And maybe you did care a little too much, but that didn’t matter. Because it couldn’t matter.
Wonwoo would always just be … Wonwoo.
Shifting your gaze to his, you sent him a small smile and asked, “So which movie did you pick out for us tonight?”
After scrolling through multiple streaming apps, Wonwoo finally found the one hosting this horror movie that was recommended to him – Swiped. It was a modern day nightmare about a woman using an app to get back into dating and accidentally wound up on a date with a serial killer. Definitely an indie film, so they didn’t hold back on the gory scenes, which you watched with your hands over your eyes, peaking out slightly between your fingers. Wonwoo, on the other hand, didn’t shy away, but still watched the bloody scene of the killer’s past with his top lip curled in disgust. He set down the pizza slice in his hand onto a paper plate and leaned back into the couch.
“This is the exact reason why dating apps don’t work. You don’t know if you could end up with a serial killer,” he commented, crossing his arms over his chest.
You turned your head, desperate not to look at the TV. “Have you ever actually been on a date from an app? I can’t remember the last time you even told me you went on a date.”
He sent you a glare. “You’re one to talk. The last time you dated was that older guy who you stopping talking to after he wanted to be exclusive.”
“Sean was asking too much of me. He wanted to see me every weekend and I love my friends too much.” You glanced at the scene to see the killer’s particularly creepy face and cringed, looking back to your friend. “Now, answer the question.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I … okay, never. What’s your point?”
Good question. Your nose wrinkled as you thought about the last time Wonwoo dated. It had to be years ago, even longer than you. Just after college and you were both already hyper fixating on a quarter-life crisis. It was before you both moved, and you remembered him casually dating this girl. What was her name? Sally? Seoyun? Selena? Too different, but you thought he introduced you to her once. He broke it off before it got too serious, when you both got opportunities of a lifetime to work in the heart of the city.
He wasn’t dating. Hadn’t been for years. Not seriously. Not casually. He was always “busy,” always “just fine.”
You noticed. Of course, you did.
“Soooo …” You murmured, dragging out the word as you slowly met his eyes. Your tone was smooth, almost blasé. “Are you ever going to date again?”
Wonwoo arched an eyebrow. “You’re full of questions tonight. Why do you care?”
Your gaze narrowed. “Oh, I don’t know, Wonwoo. Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend.” You tossed a throw pillow at him and it hit him right in the face. He had never been good with dexterity, even though he was great at video games.
His glasses were knocked onto the floor and he laughed, picking them up before settling against the cushions once more. He fixed them back onto his face, but the frames – no matter how new – were still crooked on him.
When his laughter died down, he shrugged, lacing his fingers together on his chest as he watched the movie. “Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.”
There was nothing dramatic about his tone. He wasn’t bitter. He said it like a fact.
The words stuck, lodging themselves somewhere deep. Not in your head, not in your chest. Even deeper. In your ribs, nestled in a cage of your own making.
Because his answer wasn’t “anyone interesting” or “anyone I like.” He mentioned effort, no matter how indifferent he sounded. You had known Wonwoo for almost a decade. You knew what he was like when something was worth the effort.
So you laughed it off – albeit awkwardly – because you couldn’t stand the silence. “Well, that’s fixable.”
“Here you go again.” But then he finally glanced at you, curiosity peaked. “Is … is it?”
You nodded, body completely facing him now, as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch. Grinning at him, you replied, “Mmhmm. You’re just not meeting the right people. I know, like …” You lifted a few fingers. “… Five women off the top of my head for you.”
A corner of his mouth tugged up. “One of those isn’t your cousin that tried kissing me at your graduation party, right?”
“Don’t make me throw another pillow at you.” You playfully hit his arm. “I’m being serious. I think it all comes down to that.”
He turned back to the screen, just when the main character gasped at the killer’s monologue. Wonwoo was usually quiet, but this silence was different. He wasn’t arguing at your response, but he clearly wasn’t excited either. It was as if he was resigning himself to whatever fate you bestowed upon him.
And then he gently mumbled, “If you think so.”
Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.
You thought about his answer longer than you should. What was meant to be an uninterested string of words to shrug you off struck you somewhere that you hadn’t felt before. They were heavy; you could practically feel them rolling around in your brain like marbles. You pondered them, even at the office, when you should be focusing on work. Even at night, when sleep just wouldn’t come to you. As you took the train to work, when all you could hear was the singing of some elderly man at the back of the car.
Despite the way you laughed off awkward situations, you always listened to Wonwoo, always took in every word he said. One time, after drinking a single margarita because he was a lightweight when it came to tequila, he drunkenly told you that no one had ever listened to him like you did. But last night’s conversation hit … different, in a way that had you picking at your cuticles again. Maybe you cared too much. But was it really that bad to care too much for someone that had become your rock?
You couldn’t harp on it, too afraid of the real answer.
You had just gotten home, still wearing the cardigan you wore to the office even after changing into a pair of worn out pajama bottoms. The kind that you probably got as a teenager, but the fabric had stretched out so much that they still fit. You were chopping up some veggies for whatever haphazard rice bowl you were throwing together for dinner. Sometimes you would eat a pepper slice, other times you’d throw it in the pan. Your mind wandered though: on emails, reminding yourself that you needed to text back your dad, and – oh, the thing that Wonwoo said last week that simply wouldn’t leave your brain.
He deserves someone great, you thought to yourself. Clearly, you weren’t an option, not that you were expecting to be. If he fell for someone else, maybe you’d finally stop looking at him like –
You let the thought die before it could finish.
On lonely nights, when it was only you and your vibrator, some audio porn blasting through your AirPods, you wondered if you both had tried after that hookup before finals … what would’ve happened? Would you still be as close as you are now? Would you still be this much of a fixer and would he still be too “busy” to date anyone else?
Even worse: would you have been worth the effort?
You set down the knife on the cutting board, closing your eyes as you gripped the counter. Your head shook, as if pushing the question out before it could take root. But that’s when the feelings you pushed down for so long bubbled up all over again. Calling it a “crush” felt trivial, like you were two kids at recess. It was more like … a feeling that lingered. A curse. A spirit that haunted you.
Because, at your heart of hearts, you knew it shouldn’t ever happened. You and Wonwoo had the chance years ago, but it wasn’t in the cards. You were meant to be friends and that was fine. (Truly, it was.) Your curse would go away soon enough, even if it took another 8 years of friendship.
Rewinding back to your conversation last week absolutely wasn’t helping. You turned, pressing your back against the kitchen counter as the peppers started to sizzle in the hot pan. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you began scrolling through the contacts in your phone. It was in this moment that you reverted back to your old ways, doing what you always did when you were the least bit hurt: you were going to fix.
II.
I think I’ve loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity. –ALICE OSEMAN
September 16, 2015
Maybe Wonwoo had been right; maybe this was a problem for you. But no case ever started as “I’m going to fix this person.”
The first inkling happened after you read Jane Austen’s Emma in senior year of high school. You weren’t a matchmaker by any means, and you certainly weren’t wealthy, nor all that clever, but you related to Emma Woodhouse in ways that were beyond you. And once you got to college, where you could start off with a clean state and become your own person, you found your purpose beginning to sprout.
There was a girl in your ENG 101 class named Kat – loner type, the kind to always sit in the back and mind her own business. You observed her from your spot in the corner, watched the way she stayed silent and twirled the same piece of dark hair around her finger. She didn’t talk in class. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. Freshman year of college was hard enough as it was, but it was even worse when you were extremely introverted. Not that you had made many friends yet; you just knew how to make conversation. Always had. If you needed a friend and so did Kat, what harm would it be to help each other?
You approached her once class ended, hugging your notebook to you chest as you flashed the most endearing, pearly-white smile at her. You told her your name as she cautiously stood from her seat, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Do you want to grab lunch with me?” You asked brightly. “I think we also have the same first year seminar next. Maybe we could walk together to it after lunch!”
Surprisingly, Kat accepted your offer. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t exactly say no, but that wasn’t for you to assume. You showed her your current favorite dining area – Lincoln Hall – where they made the best burritos on campus. “They can sometimes make your stomach turn if you haven’t had any breakfast,” you explained, “but they’re worth it. Don’t let the chef intimidate you. Just ignore him.”
You quickly realized just how shy Kat was. She had a habit of keeping to herself and only spoke when spoken to. It took almost the whole lunch to get something out of her, as if she was trying to make it impossible to peel back her layers. But when she finally broke a moment of silence with, “These burritos are that good,” you knew that you were getting somewhere.
“Aren’t they? I love that they actually use fresh veggies,” you replied, wiping sauce from your top lip.
“They remind me of these ones I used to get back home.” She shrugged, pensive. “I miss it sometimes.”
Your interest peaked. “Home? Where are you from?”
She was a couple states south of here, while you were more north. Two opposite ends that somehow met on the same campus. Once she crumped up the empty wrapper, she mused, “You must’ve had a lot of friends back home.”
Your brow knitted together. “Not exactly. Just a small group that I had known since middle school, but I’ve always just been social. When I enrolled here, I really wanted to find new people. My parents always said that the people you meet in college are with you for life.” You traced the edge of the table. “Have … you met anyone else on campus?”
She looked a little caught off guard for a minute, and then shrunk into her jacket. “Besides you? Well … no.”
You tilted your head to the side. Kat stuffed her hands into her pockets and let the silence envelope her until it became too awkward. You realized that in order to get her to open up, you needed to beat her at her own game. It was a lot more difficult than you thought.
“I know it’s only the third week of classes, but I’m just …” She sighed, getting to her feet and grabbing her backpack. “… Nervous about making friends. And getting close to other people. I’ve always been kind of an introvert, but now …”
You followed her move, walking with her outside the dining hall and heading to the Roosevelt building across campus, where your seminar was. “Is there a reason for that?” You asked, and then bumped her elbow with yours, a smile on your lips. “You can tell me. I think we’re friends now.”
Kat chewed on her bottom lip, debating her answer, until eventually, she cracked. “My friends from high school were … not very nice. My mom used to think they were toxic. Whatever you want to call them, they didn’t make me feel good.” She only looked at her feet as you walked together. “High school was hard and I was so scared about being without friends. But they always made me feel like I was a bother. Sometimes they wouldn’t even invite me over. I just let it happen though because I was afraid of being alone. I told myself that college would different.”
“Kat,” you murmured, grabbing her arm so her eyes met yours. You both stopped midstep in the center of the campus courtyard, blooming with life. “I don’t get the vibe that you could ever be a bother. College is the time to make friends, not shy away from them.”
You made due on your words, always making time to have lunch with her after ENG 101, but also introducing her to a few of your classmates from your History of Cinema course. Kasey and Jun were also on the quieter side, but they had way more in common with Kat than you did. Bringing them all together meant you saw Kat less, but she still made the effort to speak to you in class.
By the time fall semester ended, you and Kat were merely acquaintances, but you didn’t really mind all that much. You had become close with your classmate, Wonwoo, also from History of Cinema, as well as a few other girls that lived in the same building as you. Wonwoo was shy like Kat, but he knew when to exactly open himself up, and he always did around you. Sometimes you wondered if you were merely attracted to introverted people, but you didn’t want to be friends with Wonwoo to help him. There was a warmth to his friendship that you hadn’t experienced before, something that you told that he would be in your life for a long time.
When you and Wonwoo were in line for dinner, you noticed Kat leaving the dining hall with not just Kat and Jun, but a few others as well. She had clearly blossomed over the last couple of months, and you felt a sense of accomplishment that tingled throughout your body, from your head to your toes. This was the type of feeling you wanted all the time: purpose, connection, serotonin.
You looked on her fondly, knowing that you helped give her a little push, and your self-esteem seemed to skyrocket. Kat glanced over her shoulder, meeting your eyes then, and waved. Matching her wave with a smile, you then felt Wonwoo’s breath at your ear as he asked, “Who’s that?”
You shrugged. “An old friend.”
February 18, 2026
The coffee at the office was tasting particularly burnt this morning. To be fair, you saw the technician that fixed the machine every couple of months stride through the double doors just after you sat down with your cup. A couple of your coworkers were already fawning over him from the doorway of the kitchenette. You watched them, just over the edge of your cubicle, with a raised brow. The local technician, Seokmin, was definitely handsome and had the kind of biceps you only saw on a bodice ripper romance book, but you had too many emails to waste time on watching him repair the coffee machine.
No matter how much you wanted to.
You took another sip from your cup and winced. Still burnt.
Resting your chin on your fist, you scrolled through the piles of emails that you were copied on but didn’t actually involve your position. You played music softly from the speakers of your monitor, not exactly caring who heard. This was what would happen until you were rewarded with your own office space. Despite your Marketing Director role, the building in general was “far too small” to grant you an office, so you’d make your coworkers’ life a living hell in your cubicle until your boss grew tired of it. He would eventually. Men, especially in positions of power, always caved.
As your fingers began dancing across the keyboard, you heard the doors swing open and the loud scuffle of your coworker, Jennifer’s, ballet flats. You looked up, noting the red in her eyes, the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth was in a flat line. She smoothed back the curls in her perfectly styled pixie cut, huffed, and then dropped her lunch bag onto her desk all the way at the end of the row from yours.
Now that was perplexing. Jennifer was always in a good mood.
Your fingers paused on the keys, and just when you were about to get up and talk with her, she stormed in the direction of the bathroom. You heard her start to sniffle, but the sound was eventually muffled by the door to the women’s bathroom closing behind her. When one of your desk mates sent you a look, you took that as a sign to go check on her.
Getting to your feet, you smoothed down the wrinkles in your blouse and quickly made your way to the bathroom, sneaking a glance at Seokmin working his magic on the coffee machine in the process. (He really was handsome. Maybe you could help fix him up with someone here if he was single.) You pushed on the door and immediately found Jennifer at the sinks, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. She met your gaze in the mirror and already began stuttering, “Oh, I – I’m – let me j-just –”
You saddled up next to her and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t be silly, Jen,” you whispered, grabbing more paper towels from behind you and handing it to her. “Here, take these. What’s going on?”
Jennifer blew her nose into the paper towels, and the sound was so loud that it startled you. You blinked rapidly and she grumbled, “Sorry,” but it was muffled by the makeshift tissue.
“It’s okay,” you replied, trying to hide your chuckle. But soon enough, you were both sharing a laugh, giggling over the absolute absurdity of it all at 9 AM. You squeezed her arm as she blew her nose again.
“I hoped no one would see me like this, but …” She exhaled hard, tossing her snotty paper towel in the trash before checking her appearance in the mirror. Grimacing, she fixed the strands that had fallen out of her gelled hairstyle.
Your grip slipped away as you arched a brow. “Do you … want to talk about it?”
She straightened her back, smoothing out the wrinkle in her shirt, before asking, “Do you remember the guy I had texted you about week ago? We hadn’t been dating long, but I asked for your advice –”
“Matty?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes instantly, the name striking a sense of irritation in her that even she was unable to hide. “Yes,” she admitted, and then rubbed at her nose. “The day after I texted you for advice … we actually broke up, but I was too embarrassed to tell you or make you think your advice didn’t work.”
Your brow relaxed. “Jen, it doesn’t offend me that my advice didn’t work. I just care that you’re okay.” And it was the truth, but you couldn’t help but be a little miffed that she didn’t follow your guidance after you made time out of your movie night with Wonwoo to prioritize her problem. That was neither here nor there. Jennifer was your friend after all.
“I just …” She wrung out her hands in front of her, looking down at the dent in her favorite flats. “I saw him at a coffee shop today and it brought back a lot of emotions that I thought were starting to go away. We had only been together for, like, five months, but it still feels so … icky to think that it could’ve worked out and it didn’t.”
“Icky?” You repeated, and then let the word turn over in your brain. “That does feel quite icky, doesn’t it?”
“Very!” She huffed, her palms slapping against her sides. “Because here I am crying over a guy that clearly doesn’t like me anymore, and I can’t stop wondering if I’ll ever be good enough. Like … what is it about me that made our relationship not work?”
Sensing that this was going to be a longer conversation, you leaned against the faucet and leveled a look at her. “Jen, you can’t think like that. You’ll just make yourself go crazy, and I can guarantee that it wasn’t you in the first place.”
She sent you a soft smile. With the amount of times she came to you for advice, it almost felt weird to continuously thank you. “You know, when you turn – let’s say … 20 – you think that you have it all figured out by now. I thought this stuff would get easier, but I can’t help but feel like I’m in college all over again.”
A tingle ran through you, the kind that started at your hairline and trickled all the way down to your legs. Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, because you – the person who always had her life together, who pretended like she had it all figured out – constantly felt that way. Sometimes you wondered if you were that transparent, if everyone could tell that you liked fixing so you wouldn’t have to mend any of the problems in your own life. You weren’t just a body anymore. You were merely a piece of cling wrap, translucent and waiting to mold yourself to the next thing that needed you.
But maybe that was just you being too in your head, because no matter what, everyone came to you. And you’d drop everything. It was easier than having to face the fact that you still felt so small, so 20-something, insecure and overworked in a body that was pushing 30.
“No matter what age you are, you’re never gonna have your life completely together,” you mused, a small passing comment that you were hoping would end the conversation before it got too deep. Jennifer reached over you and grabbed another paper towel to wipe her nose. You took the opportunity to ask, “Are you … open to dating again? Seeing someone else can be the perfect way to get over Matty.”
Jennifer shrugged. “If the man is nice enough, sure.”
Wonwoo’s smile appeared in your head then, all the kind things he did for you over the years flashing through like a movie montage. You remembered the time he spent a whole week studying with you just so you would pass your Physics exam. The time he brought you a new pair of slacks when you split coffee all over yourself before a job interview. The time he picked you up from a Renaissance faire when it got flooded out. Or all the times he was there for you when he didn’t have to be.
He was nice enough. More than that. And yet, he hadn’t met anyone worth the effort.
You pushed off the edge of the sink. “You know, my friend, Wonwoo, wants to try dating again –”
Her eyes immediately flickered to yours. “The Wonwoo? As in your friend? I didn’t think he was single.”
“Why?” You cocked your head.
“Well, it’s just … the way you talk about him …” She was avoiding eye contact now. “And the way he was hanging off you when you brought him to last year’s company holiday party …”
You rolled your eyes. “To be fair, he got way more intoxicated than intended. Anyway, he’s very single, and actually … you two might get along.”
“How so?”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. In that moment, you couldn’t think of one thing – not even a lie – to convince Jennifer to go out with your best friend. They didn’t have anything in common, but that wasn’t typically a requirement for Wonwoo. He liked different.
“Well, I … haven’t exactly thought that far yet,” you admitted, sending her an awkward smile. “But he’s nice. Extremely nice. And you’re good with conversation. He can be difficult to come out of his shell, but I think you could do it.”
She sighed, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. The redness in her eyes had faded, and she admired the natural flush of her cheeks as she fidgeted with her hair again. Eventually, she looked at you again with a shy smile, and then whispered, “I did think he was pretty cute at the holiday party.”
The game development company Wonwoo worked for was nowhere close to your job, but when you asked him to go to lunch, he always came. He would say that it wasn’t a big deal, but the few times you went to go see him during lunch, it took you two trains to get to him, leaving you with only 20 mins to sit with him before you had to leave. It was a big deal, and yet, he didn’t complain.
He moved around one of his meetings just to come see you, texting you that the deadline for the prototype of their next game was due soon, so finding free time nowadays was scarce. But he still did it. For you. Because he knew you would do the same. He hopped on the two trains to get to you, walking the short block to the cafe you found that was close to the station. Opening the door for the elderly women leaving, Wonwoo squeezed in past them and found you sitting at a small table in the corner. He watched you for a moment, noticing the way your fingers tapped across your phone screen, most likely writing an urgent email to someone on your team. Even with your brow scrunched together like this, you were calm. The idea of being burdened with work settling you better than the green tea on the table.
Wonwoo pushed past the line forming at the register, and your eyes immediately lifted, like you could sense his presence somehow. Your lips curled and you waved him over. His own smile was quick, afraid of looking too eager, although any time he got to see you made him excited. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, he sat down in the seat opposite of you and saw the hot mug of black coffee already waiting for him.
“I just got you the dark roast because I know you’ve always liked it,” you said, turning your phone facedown. Wonwoo wrapped his hands around the mug as he tried warding off the winter chill outside. “Were the trains bad?”
“Not really, but they’ll probably get worse later when I’m on my way home.” He took a sip of the rich, warm beverage. “I don’t have long though. What was so urgent?”
You laced your hands on the table, and you had this look in your eye that always scared him. The kind that excited you, but whatever you had planned would be hell for everyone else. Judging by the way your gaze was focused on only him, he had a feeling that he alone was going to become your next project.
“What if I told you that I gave your number to Jennifer at work?” You grinned big.
The mug was at his mouth when he paused. He considered pinching himself to make sure that this was real. “Jennifer?” He asked, arching a brow. “The one that brought homemade jello shots to your holiday party last year?”
“Well,” you scoffed and laid out your hand, “they were good, weren’t they?”
He finally took a sip. “I guess so. Actually … I don’t know if I’ve ever understood the appeal of jello shots. Too messy.”
“You’re no fun, and off topic.” You let your finger trace the rim of your cup, filled halfway with lukewarm green tea. “I gave Jennifer your number because she’s interested in going on a date with you. Exciting, right?”
He blinked in your direction. Jennifer sounded familiar; when was the last time he heard about her? Maybe it was … “Wasn’t Jennifer the coworker you were helping a few weeks ago on movie night? You went into the bathroom to give her advice because her boyfriend was being weird.”
“The weird boyfriend is out of the picture now. Has been for weeks,” you shrugged. “And she admitted that she thought you were cute at the holiday party.”
His nose wrinkled a little. “You sure she isn’t just remembering me through the haze of the jello shots?”
Your eyes narrowed into a glare.
He flashed a smile. “Kidding.”
“Listen,” you said, clearing your throat. He raised his fingers – just slightly – but you were already tucking that stray hair behind your ear. “She’ll probably text you tonight to set up a date. Don’t give me that look, Wonwoo. No pressure. It’s just dinner.”
Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back in his chair. This didn’t surprise you; he was always hesitant. He made sure to think through all his choices, not impulsively like you preferred. That was why you two worked so well –
You shut down the thought before it could go further. You shouldn’t be reminiscing on your compatibility with your best friend. This was about you helping him.
He tilted his head slightly, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, like he did when he was anxious. His eyes crinkled. “Mingyu said once that you micromanage me sometimes.”
Your expression twisted at the mention of his roommate. “Says the president of micromanaging. He needs to mind his own business – literally. That’s what his restaurant is for.”
Wonwoo was silent again, taking small sips from the mug that was almost empty. Tapping his phone, he checked the time. He had maybe 10 minutes before he had to run back to the train station. Was he going to keep you on the edge of your seat this whole time? This was so dumb.
And you told him once over a bottle of soju that you hated edging anyway.
“You can say no,” you eventually muttered, leaning more into the table. “I just thought … maybe she could be worth the effort.”
His gaze met yours again, quick and intense. He opened his mouth once like he was about to refuse, and then closed it. One late night at your apartment, he told you that saying no to you felt like refusing care, which is why you wanted to remind him that he could. But at the end of the day … this was you. Out of everyone, you knew that flicker of change in his eyes, relenting.
For a moment, you wondered if he was going to ask something curious:
“Does she actually like me?”
“Is she really open to a date?”
“Do you think I’ll like her?”
But he didn’t. Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Alright.”
A single word. Loaded. Like a bullet.
You blinked once, then twice, surprised. You expected a joke or his typical resistance. This … this couldn’t be his real answer.
Or maybe you were just overthinking things again.
“Okay, great. I think you’ll like her.” Your smile was quick, and then you were turning over your phone again. To text Jennifer, he assumed. The cafe was loud, but all he could hear in that moment was the sound of keyboard clicks. A message being sent. “She’ll probably choose a casual place. She always does when her and I go out. You don’t have to dress up. She’s funny and super easy to talk to.”
And then, you looked up, afraid you were coming off as inconsiderate. That wasn’t what you wanted in the slightest. You cared about him, maybe even a little more than you should.
You reached out, fingers finding his wrist. “And, hey, listen – no expectations.”
He glanced down, watching your thumb glide over his pulse point. You tried to ignore the quickening of it, but it was unavoidable. Horrifically loud and matching your own. And you were now wondering why you told him there were no expectations in the first place. It was ironic, wasn’t it? The whole date was an expectation.
This was a game of charades, and neither of you were going to win.
He nodded, and you retracted your hand onto your lap once again. “Got it,” Wonwoo agreed, committing to his role. He finished the last of his coffee and stood to his full height, making you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll watch out for an unknown number. Text me when you get home after work.”
You bobbed your head, staring at his back as he exited the cafe. When it was just you then, sitting on the booth side of your small table, your cup of green tea cold and abandoned in your hands, it was easy to let the mask slip. Confusion ebbed into your subconscious. Because you thought this was supposed to make you feel good – it always did. But you were suddenly filled with a bottomless pit of regret.
That night, with your sheets tucked up to your chin and your restless brain keeping you up, you thought, If he dates someone else, I’ll get over this. Whatever this is that I’ve been feeling forever.
Wonwoo – poor, sleepless Wonwoo, who was too tired of this act already but the thought of denying you felt like a wound – in his apartment across the city, pondered to himself, If I date someone else, maybe I’ll stop wanting her. She can still be in my life and I won’t lie awake wondering what it would be like if she was here with me.
As you both turned over to a cold pillow, you liked to believe it was all figured out. Inside, though, the two of you knew that life would never be that easy.
Endless emails, unread texts, boring meetings made the week fly by, and soon enough, it was next Friday. The night of Wonwoo’s date with Jennifer. You saw her at the office earlier and she seemed … in good spirits, at the very least. “He really hadn’t texted me this week,” she complained to you at lunch. “But maybe he’s just one of those guys that doesn’t like to text before a first date.”
You smiled nervously. “He’s just … shy.” Your fingers tapped against her arm. “But hey! What are you planning on wearing tonight?”
Deflection had always been one of your super powers.
You had done your best this week to help him. Told him to text her to get to know her better. Got on FaceTime with him as he picked out the best “casual” outfit, whatever that meant. He was tired already, exhausted by the idea of something you didn’t want to pinpoint. So you tried getting him excited: you hyped up Jennifer as much as you possibly could. Tried to find similarities between them. They had the same taste in books – which was an absolute fighting start – and also … well, that might be it. But this was about chemistry, two people getting to know each other and feeling a pull so deep it rivaled magnets.
You had felt it once. Maybe twice, but you couldn’t identify exactly who was the second. You knew that you felt it with Sean; that’s why he wanted to see you so often back then, when things had gotten too much. They were good at first though, when you met him at a wine bar after you’d been stood up from a blind date. As soon as he looked at you from his bar stool, you felt the pull immediately. And his smile … he looked at you like you were something special, not like a sad excuse for a date. You chocked it up to him being older and more experienced, but someone else had looked at you like that. (Someone you just didn’t want to focus on.)
Sean had gotten too exclusive too fast. It had been a lot for you to handle, but at his age, he knew what he wanted. “I want someone like you,” he had explained once. “Driven. Independent. But also soft, even when she doesn’t want to show it. If that’s asking for too much, I don’t know what to tell you.”
His words were cutting, but you guessed you couldn’t blame him. What else was there to say when you told him the relationship was becoming a lot for you? He was a decade older than you. His time was running out while yours was just starting. Your chemistry was off the charts, but something wasn’t aligning. You just weren’t sure what yet.
This was the exact opposite outcome that you wanted for Wonwoo.
You had to become a coach, similar to the one you had for basketball in high school. Over FaceTime was the best chance to catch him, allowing you to teach him about body language and the best questions to ask. You taught him how to make the questions deeper but not too invasive, especially when one glass of wine turned into two. He took in all your information, nodding, but not saying anything. He knew not to question you. Although you hadn’t dated in a while, you knew exactly how women wanted to be talked to – something he typically had trouble with.
Wonwoo wasn’t good with talking to just about everybody. Besides you. Never with you.
You were pacing in your tiny living room as an episode of some reality show played quietly. You supposed that you should go take a shower, do your skincare, and put on your pajamas before settling in on the couch with your takeout. The perfect Friday night. But you were anxiously waiting on Jennifer’s text that she was arriving to the bar that her and Wonwoo agreed to meet at. It was kind of a dive, but the food was incredible, specializing in multiple macaroni and cheese dishes.
There was no way that this wouldn’t work. Jennifer had such a huge personality, one that invited you in and made you feel warm. You were sure that she would charm him.
Your phone dinged.
Jennifer: Just got here! He met me outside, even though it was snowing. Points!!!
You jumped on the balls of your feet, excitement flowing through you. Forcing yourself to finally hop in the shower, you couldn’t help but wonder why you had so much regret about this in the first place. You were grinning; this was good. Maybe the satisfaction of setting up this date wouldn’t be instant, but it was still there.
This was for Wonwoo, after all.
You were buzzing, waiting patiently for his text that he was on his way over. He promised you he’d stop by after the date and rehash all the details. This felt like college again. Your roommate for the first two years, Liz, had been far more popular with boys than you, and although you two weren’t the closest, you longed for the days when you stayed up past midnight, waiting for her to come back to your dorm and share all the juicy moments.
Wonwoo wasn’t similar to the average female freshman, but you knew you could pry some things out of him. At the end of the day, all you wanted was for him to be happy.
That’s what you told yourself.
When your phone finally went off, you were sitting on your couch in pajamas and your wet hair wrapped in a towel. You changed channels from before, but the reality show stayed the same. Texting him back, you scooped one last lo mein noodle in your mouth before getting up to brush back your wet strands. The door lock clicked open once you were back on the couch, the takeout carton lukewarm and abandoned on your coffee table, next to the vanilla cashmere candle you almost always had lit.
Wonwoo shook the chill out of his body as soon as he stepped through the door, and you sat up, an immediate smile appearing on your face. It was amazing how just the arrival of someone could make you happy, but that had always been Wonwoo for you. He was dusting the snowflakes off his jacket as your feet – clad in your favorite fuzzy socks – padded over to him. “That didn’t take you long,” you chuckled, taking his winter gloves and placing them on the old space heater to get warm.
He hung up his coat on the door hang. “Well, I was halfway here when I realized I hadn’t texted earlier,” he explained, instantly gunning for the couch and plopping down in his usual spot. Plucking the carton from the coffee table, he leaned all the way back into the couch cushions and slurped a cold noodle into his mouth. He was silent, watching whatever fight was ensuing on the TV.
You head tilted, perplexed. Maybe it was strange for you to assume, but you thought he would be more … open about details. I mean, you did set him up in the first place. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the leftover chicken fingers and scallion pancakes on the kitchen counter before setting them on the coffee table.
“Soooooooooo …” You dragged the word as you fell into the cushion opposite of him, tucking one leg underneath you. His eyes slid to yours, unenthusiastic. You scoffed and hit his arm. “Why are you being so coy?”
He snorted. “I’m always coy. That’s part of my charm.”
“Just tell me how the date was.”
He shrugged, gaze back on the screen as he set down the takeout container. “It was fine,” he said politely before reaching for the remote. “Can we watch a movie instead?”
You intentionally moved the remote away from him and his eyes narrowed. “You have no right to glare at me when you’re being so secretive. It was just ‘fine?’”
“I guess … I –” His head fell back against the cushions, and then he glanced at you again. “Just fine. The food at the restaurant was good. We had a good time.”
You sat there, observing him, almost dumbfounded. Somehow, he was being even more vague than usual. Distracted. Usually, you could read him like a book, but there was something about his tone that you couldn’t detect.
So you tested his limits, got up in his space, despite the fact that your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest the closer you got. Lacing your hands on top of his right shoulder, you rested your chin on top of them and blinked up at him innocently. He slowly turned to face you, and you both tried to ignore how close your faces truly were, warm breath mingling with the other. His fingers twitched on his thigh, and you wondered if he could feel your heart thudding against his bicep.
“Can I help you?” He raised a brow.
“Tell me specifics,” you said, voice as sweet as honey.
Wonwoo looked back in front of him – anything but your eyes – rubbing two fingers over his left temple. “Why do you want to know so bad?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sue me for wanting to know how the date I set my best friend on went,” you quipped, not moving one inch from your position. Your eyes narrowed. “Are you gatekeeping some kind of pertinent information? Or – oh, my God. Did you guys kiss?”
“No,” he answered immediately, meeting your eyes. His tone made your back straighten instantly, and he tried to recover by clearing his throat. “I mean – well … no. We didn’t kiss. She’s very pretty and has a great personality, but I don’t think her and I are … compatible.”
You nodded slowly. “What made you realize that?”
He sighed heavily, letting his hand fall back on his thigh. You noticed that his hands were still red from the cold, even though he had his best gloves on. So you grabbed your heating pad from the other side of the couch before he began to speak, plugging it in behind him and wrapping it around his hands, before plopping back down beside him.
Wonwoo was silent as he looked down, the feeling gradually returning back to his hands. He was used to you doing this sometimes: taking care of him, micromanaging him, like he had been your project since college. He couldn’t deny that he liked it, but there was some moments that still left him stunned. It was as if taking care of him came as second nature to you.
When were you going to let him reciprocate?
You poked his arm, interrupting the thought before it could take root. “What were you gonna say?”
He exhaled again and got comfortable in the old cushions. “We talked about our interests – and it didn’t bother me that we didn’t have a lot in common. It was just … I don’t think I’m what she’s looking for. Or what she needs. And then, we started talking about work and that really cemented it for me. We actually talked more about you than anything –”
He stopped himself, eyes flickering to you before he realized you were blowing out the flame on the dying candle. Collecting himself, he added, “I just don’t think we’re going to work. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t a great person. She was really nice.” He shrugged and finally met your eyes again. His smile was bored, almost cat-like. “Done with your investigation?”
“I guess so,” you relented, turning back to face the TV beside him. Your hips were brushed against each other, pinkies so close to intertwining, but neither of you moved. “Unless you want me to ask more?”
He cut you a look. “Absolutely not.” Reaching out, his fingers plucked a scallion pancake from the container on the coffee table, and his smile got even bigger in your direction. “Want to finally watch In the Mood for Love? C’mon, you know you want to.”
III.
Locked down my by side even when I’m borderline, I don’t even know why I push you away. –CHARLI XCX
Bringing yourself to work on Monday was more of a chore than usual. You hadn’t been sleeping right. Your back hurt. And you just ran out of your favorite shampoo. Cementing yourself into adulthood was harder than you imagined in your early twenties. Now you actually had to care about making time before work to stop off at the store to grab essentials.
But maybe today would be good. The crew repainting the office garage smiled at you. The barista at the small coffee shop in the lobby told you that your latte was on the house. You were wearing a new pair of kitten heels and dare I say, you at least looked good. The boatneck sweater your mom gifted you two Christmases ago magically fit and paired well with the jeans you were sporting. It almost made you forget how badly your spine ached. Almost.
After getting a significant amount of emails answered that morning, you headed to the kitchen where your hummus snack that you bought earlier was stored. You noticed Jennifer leaving through the other door just as you were entering, making you pause to wave. “Oh, hey, J–”
Jennifer scrambled away before you could even finish your greeting. Quickly grabbing your snack, you followed her out the same door and attempted to catch up to her. “Hey!” You exclaimed, placing a light hand on her shoulder. “Jen, what are you –”
She turned, attempting to act casual, but you knew Jennifer was incapable of pretending. “Oh, h–hi. Sorry, must’ve not seen you back there.”
You let your hand fall as your brow knitted together. “Must have,” you replied suspiciously. “I meant to text you all weekend, but time got away from me. Did you have fun on the date? Wonwoo hardly shared any details.”
Her lips sealed for a moment, until she eventually muttered, “Oh.”
Tilting your head, you remarked, “Oh?”
“That came out wrong.” She held a hand up, collecting herself. A couple of your coworkers squeezed past and you both waved. Lowering her voice slightly, she continued, “He was nice. Dry sense of humor, but still funny. Gentleman enough to walk me back to my car. But …”
You blinked, hanging off the edge of your invisible seat. You felt like a cat right now and she was dangling a treat right in front of you, teasing you with more to come.
Jennifer scoffed and finally gave in. “But I thought you said he had a personality. At least, that’s how you always made him seem.”
Her answer made your head jerk back in surprise. “Wait –”
“I was basically carrying the whole conversation,” she added. “It really didn’t seem like he wanted to be there. When you brought him to that holiday party, he was pretty engaged in conversation, but when it’s just him … I don’t know.”
You thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo after the date. It was fine, he had said in that bored fucking tone of his. Of course, he was bored. Because he had been the boring one in the first place. Now you were pissed – and confused at the same time. You wasted all that time setting up this date, and yet …
A sigh escaped you. He probably let his nerves get the best of him. Your mother used to say that you shouldn’t cry over spilt milk – or in this case – a bad date. There was no need to get worked up over it, but you just wished he had been honest in the first place.
Maybe you could start with being honest about how you f–
You stopped that thought right in its tracks.
“Truthfully,” Jennifer said, bringing your eyes back to hers, “the most he talked during the date was … well –” She scratched her temple. “– Was about you.”
Your body went rigid, back straightening as if it hadn’t been tense since you woke up. Fingers lacing together in front of you, your lips pursed, trying to think of a suitable response, but … nothing was coming to you. Not one word.
Jennifer tested the waters and prodded further. Leaning into your space, she asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two –”
“Absolutely not,” you cut in immediately, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “We’re just friends. Have been for years. We just … have a lot of history that he likes to talk about.”
She stared at you, not fully convinced.
You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Listen,” you huffed, “I’m sorry the date didn’t go well. I know I set you up on it, so I don’t want you to think I had … I don’t know. Ill intent, or something. I really did think you two would get along and he’d come out of his shell.”
A slow smile appeared on her lips. “It’s not your fault. Compatibility is a fickle thing. It only happens, like, maybe twice in everyone’s life.” She shrugged. “Shit happens, and hey, I got a free dinner. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
You laughed, felt her squeeze back on your hand, before you walked back together to your respective desks. Slamming down into your creaky seat, you lifted your head over your cubicle wall and sent another smile, before bending back in your chair and sighing. Your eyes scanned your desk, lingering on the Polaroid of you and Wonwoo from a few years ago, crookedly taped to your monitor. You narrowed your eyes at his face, as if you could burn him.
Whipping your phone out, you opened up your text thread with your best friend.
You: I thought you said the date was fine
Wonwoo: ? Hello to you too
You: just answer the question
Wonwoo: Where is the question exactly?
You: did the date with Jennifer not go okay??
Wonwoo: It was fine. I told you that
You: I just talked to Jennifer at the office and she told me you barely talked. I understand that maybe I got your compatibility wrong, but I think you neglected to tell me some things
Wonwoo: I’m sorry. In my defense, I’ve never been much of a talker. She was doing just fine
You: omfg
You: you’re literally impossible. I’m just trying to help you
You watched the text bubble appear and disappear for a straight minute. Originally, you saw no problem with the text you sent, but then you started overthinking. Was what you said too harsh? Maybe you should’ve added a playful emoji at the end. He had been typing and retyping for two minutes now, causing you to start biting at the skin around your nails. He could’ve simply been caught up with something at work and not able to multitask. It wasn’t that deep – at least, that’s what you told yourself.
Wonwoo: I’m not trying to be impossible. [UNSENT]
Wonwoo: I didn’t meant to be dishonest. [UNSENT]
Wonwoo: I didn’t ask for your help. [UNSENT]
Finally, the text bubble stopped. Your phone pinged with a new message. You quickly glanced at the text thread to see one single line from your best friend.
Wonwoo: I’ll try harder next time.
Another coincidental situation. Another setup emerged. As your old friend, Holly, lamented to you about missing her ex-boyfriend from two years ago over the phone, you wondered if maybe – just maybe – she would do well on a date with Wonwoo. You supposed that listening better while she complained about Derek was probably a better idea, but your mind still wandered.
You were laying on your bed after a shower, legs bent up on the headboard while your head was near the end of the mattress, wet hair wrapped in a towel. Your phone rested beside your right ear and you were picking at the hangnail that just wouldn’t come off your thumb. Mind elsewhere, you thought about what a date with Holly and Wonwoo would look like. Maybe a diner. Maybe a pub with live music. She loved a “Dad rock” cover band every now and then.
It might’ve been more wise to deliberate on what your best friend’s last text meant rather than picture what his next date would look like. But this was easier. More simpler than revisiting the implications of seeing Wonwoo on dates with beautiful and uncomplicated women you set him up with. Women that he might be uninterested in, and for what reason? Could it explain why he looked at you like that sometimes, like he was taking you apart piece by piece before putting you back together again?
You rubbed at your eyes. Yeah, definitely not thinking about that again.
“I shouldn’t even be talking about Derek right now,” Holly huffed through the speaker. “We broke up because he was an ass sometimes, but when he wasn’t … these are the times I miss him.”
You let your hands fall onto your stomach. You both tried to call and catch up every other month, so how did almost all of them loop around to Derek? He was still on her mind, even two years after the breakup. “You deserve a better love, Holl,” you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
All her dates over the past couple of years were duds. She only went on them every so often, but you wondered if the problem was that she was going out with people she met at clubs. Holly was so cool – not many people could juggle the corporate world while going to see their favorite DJs at clubs and make it to a community theater audition the next morning. But not many men understood her, liked her quirks, or they were just meatheads she met at clubs and eventually revealed that they had no personality.
She was a catch. Always had been, since the day you met her in the women’s restroom at a concert. The best kind of friendships always formed when you were drunk in the bathroom. Holly didn’t live near you, but you both tried to catch up when you could. Her life fascinated you to no end, and she had to be one of the most charismatic people you ever met, constantly endearing people in every room she entered.
You had no doubt that she’d charm Wonwoo. Of course, you assumed the same about Jennifer, but Holly was … different. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. If anyone could get him to talk, she could.
“I’ve been buggin’ because I want to go out to this place that he introduced me to. A Mexican restaurant in the city. The most bomb guacamole you’ll ever have, and made fresh in front of you,” she continued.
Your brow furrowed. “So why don’t you go?”
“I run the risk of Derek being there. He did show it to me. I just don’t want an awkward conversation.”
It was like a light bulb appeared above your head. “What if you went there with a date? Derek probably wouldn’t come up to you if he saw you with another guy. And if he is there, would it be so bad to piss off your ex the slightest bit?”
“Well, duh,” she snickered. “But where is this date you speak of? All my current flings have ghosted. I’m a free woman.”
You rolled over onto your stomach, smirking down at your phone screen, even though she couldn’t see you. “I’ve been trying to get my friend, Wonwoo, out on some dates. Have I introduced you guys before?”
“Hmm … Wonwoo …” She paused. “That’s your friend with the big glasses, right? The one in most of your Instagram pics? Truthfully, I …” A soft laugh escaped. “I thought you guys were together.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Well –”
“It doesn’t matter.” You huffed, looking through your contacts to share his number with her. “I can set it up, if you want. And send you his number, vice versa. He’s shy, but he’s talkative around the right people. The date could be fun for both of you.”
She took a moment to mull it over, and then said, “Okay. Yeah. I’m down.”
You grinned, already texting his contact info to her. “Excellent.”
“So you’re doing the set up thing again?”
Your tongue clicked, and you paused, debating her question. “Just for Wonwoo. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just …” That laugh again, trying to simmer the sudden tension fizzling down the line. “You told me once that you like doing stuff like this to distract yourself from whatever you’re currently feeling. Or if something tough is going on. You just … like to make someone else’s life better so you can forget what’s going on in yours. Is everything okay?”
“Okay, I told you that over one too many glasses of wine at an Olive Garden,” you replied instantly. “And I’m fine. Promise. I gotta go.”
You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes, and then laced your fingers together before resting your chin on top of them. Did you really tell her that once? How messy. It wasn’t exactly … untrue, but you’d never admit that. Everyone needed a good distraction sometimes, and if this was yours, then so be it. You liked seeing others happy. It was the kind of serotonin that money couldn’t buy.
If Wonwoo really didn’t want this … he would’ve told you.
At least, that’s what you hoped.
Speak of the devil, you should probably tell him that you gave a random woman his number. Again. You sat up in bed, took your wet hair out of the towel, and wrung it out while opening up your texts with your free hand. Your slipper-clad feet hung off the edge, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your fingers began to swipe across the keyboard.
You: hi
You: I got you another date
You: so if you get a random message, it’s my friend, holly. she’s really nice and funny
You locked your phone. It dinged instantly.
Wonwoo: Oh?
Wonwoo: Her text came just as I was about to log off of League. Thought it was spam lol
You bit down on one of your fingernails, right knee curling towards your chest. His playful tone always made you feel warm like this, and you were suddenly questioning how normal that should be.
You: not spam lol
You: just text her and feel it out, but I think she’d 100% be down for a date. she wants someone to take her out to this mexican restaurant
Wonwoo: Alright. Sounds good to me.
His mood switch made your brow furrow. Each word sounded like a pause, like he was struggling to type two measly sentences. You should leave it there, not let it get too far, but then you were typing –
You: I won’t coach you again before this date lol. I think it made you a wee bit nervous on the last one
Wonwoo: Maybe a little
A minute passed. You assumed the conversation was over for now. Standing from your bed, you padded over to your bathroom and threw your damp towel in the laundry basket. Your phone sat on your bed as you brushed through your wet hair, completely unaware that the screen had lit up again with another text.
Wonwoo: I’ll be better this time.
IV.
In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. –RICHARD SIKEN
Friday rolled around faster than you thought. Holly had been texting you all day about her excitement for this date, but truthfully, you weren’t sure if she was more excited to meet Wonwoo or go back to his restaurant without worrying about Derek. Wasn’t any of your business.
At some point, you had to slide your phone into your pocket to get off at a different stop on the subway. Trudging through the rain, you managed to snag some of the greasiest Japanese takeout imaginable: vegetable tempura, karaage (your favorite), kushikatsu, and of course, some yakisoba. This was another one of your favorite spots that was poorly reviewed. Even the owner apologized for the mess as he handed the bag over to you, but you already couldn’t wait to dig in. You practically sprinted the couple of blocks back to your apartment, narrowly missing every puddle that came into your path, before you were hurdling through the door.
You went through your routine, regimented as always. After washing your face and putting on your comfiest pajamas, you sat on the floor and pulled out some sweet potato tempura. You practically had a feast laid out on your coffee table, paired with paper plates that were soaked through with oil and your favorite pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. You only wished, selfishly, that your takeout buddy was here to share it with you. And he would be. Later on. Once the food turned cold.
Scrolling through your phone, you found it strange that Holly didn’t keep up with you when she was on her way to the date. You guess that – again – wasn’t your business, but you were curious. You did set them up though. Wasn’t it normal to be this curious? Or maybe you were simply –
You paused, sticking your chopsticks in the yakisoba carton before your thoughts got too serious. You were an over thinker, could debate on topics for hours that truly did not matter, constantly wishing that you weren’t stuck in the deep chasm that was your own head. Sometimes it seemed that the only person who could pull you out was … Wonwoo.
Wonwoo.
His name echoed before you could stop it. Like you always do. And the grieving reality settled in from the mess of your own making. A pang of regret. This wasn’t the usual dopamine you got from fixing, and maybe that was because nothing needed to be fixed in the first place –
Your phone pinged. And there it was – that pause. When the thoughts got too loud and you finally focused on your best friend’s name lighting up your phone screen.
Wonwoo: On my way to your place. Might be a bit. The bus is taking its time
You were grounded again, worries vanishing like a speck of dust in the wind. Instead of taking a day like with Jennifer, you were going to be proactive this time. After answering Wonwoo, you scrolled down to your texts with Holly and quickly tapped your fingers across the screen.
You: how was the date ?!
You started crunching on multiple pieces of karaage when her reply came through.
Holly: man, the food is just as great as I remembered. we didn’t even see Derek, so I guess I didn’t have much to worry about lmao. but I’m glad we went and I think he also enjoyed it! he said something about showing you the restaurant sometime too!
Your brow raised. She was dodging the real question.
You: that sounds great! I was more so asking what you thought of wonwoo lol, but I’m glad it went well <3!!!
Holly: he’s great. a total gentleman. I just don’t think we have much in common
Holly: he picked out the most delicious spicy margaritas for us though
You: really??? I set you guys up because I thought you two had more in common
That was somewhat a lie and you knew it. They played a couple of the same video games, when Holly had time to turn on her Playstation, and you thought Wonwoo enjoyed theater. Somewhat. At least, he pretended to really well that one time you got free tickets to Les Misérables and brought him.
Holly: yeah, we do somewhat. we read the same books and a few video games. I just don’t think he was into it. or maybe he just wasn’t into me idk
You: I’m sorry it didn’t work out. thank you for being honest and letting me know!
Holly: of course! he’s not a bad guy at all, but we just aren’t compatible. our worlds don’t align just yet, which is okay <3 he was also shy like you said and did talk a lot more as the date went on. he talks about you in a way I’ve never seen before. I can tell he cares a lot about you
You: I care a lot about him too [UNSENT]
Your head whipped to the left when you heard Wonwoo turning your spare key in the lock. Finishing off the piece of karaage in your mouth, you fired back one last reply.
You: he always keeps me on my toes. talk to you soon!
His ears were pink from the last of the winter cold. It was the middle of March and spring would soon be upon them. Stepping into your apartment, he released a gruff sigh and let the warmth of the place seep through him. He was staring at you before you even looked up to meet his eyes. Your outfit spoke to how comfortable you were around him: the oldest pair of plaid pajama pants, your fluffy robe with a coffee stain on the front that just never came out, and a large t-shirt. Thin. White. Robe untied and allowing him to see everything. He swallowed and placed his gloves on the space heater like usual, then hung up his jacket. You were carrying multiple takeout cartons to the kitchen island as he stood in the front doorway, not bothering to greet as he helped you place them on the surface before they all fell out of your arms.
He didn’t need to always say, “Hello.” This apartment was just as much his home as it was yours.
Kicking his shoes off near the door, you watched him peel open the flimsy lid of one carton. “Thank God. I was having a craving,” he said, plucking a piece of carrot tempura and taking a large bite.
You retied your robe carelessly and crossed your arms over your chest. “So …” You fought the urge to flick his arm as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. “How was it?”
“Good,” he answered quickly, as if the word was already on the tip of his tongue. Gathering a pile of yakisoba in his chopsticks, he slurped it all before adding, “She’s really nice.”
Silence. The kind that made you feel prickly, anxious from head to toe. You arched a brow. “Was it, though?”
Wonwoo crunched on another tempura piece and sent you a wary look. He always knew when you were trying to get something out of him, but you had never been the one to be coy. “I said that, didn’t I?”
“Were you into her?” You inquired further, eyes narrowed. You couldn’t blame him for his attitude, especially when your questions were a bit aggressive, but after texting with Holly, you just wanted to see if he’d have the same reaction as her.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, walking over to the sink to wash the grease off his hands. “I guess.”
Rounding the kitchen island, you let your hip press into the counter as you studied him: the way he wasn’t looking at you, the nervous tick of washing around the ring on his pinky. He was running his hands under the warm water now, longer than he had to be. “You don’t sound like you’re into her though,” you said over the loud faucet.
He turned it off with the squeaky lever and wrung his hands over the side. His frustration that he kept inside so diligently was tipping over the surface, like boiling water. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally replied, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “You’re interrogating me. Why?”
Your mouth fell open slightly. “I … I’m not interrogating.” You tried to prove your point, how casual you were being about this, by reaching over to grab a skewer of pork kushikatsu. Biting into it, you shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
His hand was still damp and he pressed it to his forehead, feeling the warm droplets trickle down his temple, grounding him. “Maybe I’m just … this is a lot harder than it looks. I’m not used to talking to so many new people.” When he opened his eyes, they were practically pleading. For what, you didn’t know. Yet.
You licked at the corners of your lips, relenting, your shoulders ablaze from the burden of carrying all the tension since sophomore year on your back. The tension you were desperately trying to smoke out. You relaxed and carefully curled your hands around his wrists. His body was frozen as you positioned him in front of you. Wonwoo realized what you were doing, providing a visual like you were both sitting across from each other on a date, but with you leaning against the stained counter like this, robe undone again, his mind wandered to a place he shouldn’t. Back in his dorm room. Your legs around his head. Your fingers tugging at his hair as he buried his face further between your thighs.
And while you couldn’t get what he was thinking, you could see in his eyes that it was something too dangerous to describe.
You cleared your throat, watching him blink. “Maybe … it would help for you to go into these dates as if they were a job interview,” you explained, your tone sounding suspiciously recognizable. Work-like. Professional who sits in a cubicle.
His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t give me that look. What I mean is … not stiff. Not nervous. Just … open body language. That’s what people are attracted to.” You took a moment, originally trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but for the purpose of your point … you placed your foot in front of you. Just one step. But it still made both your pulses jump. “And it’ll make them move closer to you.”
He physically felt his pupils dilate as he looked down at you. Wringing his hands again, he shook your grip off his wrists, noticing how fast his heart was beating. “You sound ridiculous,” he deflected. “You’re talking like how you do on the phone with your boss. This isn’t a performance review.”
Your face fell, brows pulling together. “This isn’t ridiculous, Wonwoo. You know that. I’m just trying to help.”
Something flickered in his expression then. Your words triggered his foot: one step closer, and then another. The gap between you so small that you felt the heat of his body. The small of your back was biting into the edge of the counter, head tilting up to meet his dark eyes behind his glasses. His gaze traveled, lingering on your pursed lips, moving down to where he could practically see the thump of your heart. The fabric of your white t-shirt, hiding your skin from his, and how he longed to push it up to see all of you. You hadn’t even let him see your chest when you hooked up all those years ago: too shy, too afraid of vulnerability to take off even your shirt. But now you both were nearing 30 and the only thing separating you two was this thin t-shirt that was becoming his biggest fucking enemy.
His stare flickered up before it could go too long, but he saw it. The way your nipples pebbled beneath the shirt. The tension between you two seeping from your shoulders to his like a tug of war.
“I think …” Wonwoo’s voice was low, intimate, like two fingers between your thighs. Simmering through the most private parts of you that so little people had seen.
The heel of his palms pressed into the lip of the counter, caging you. Your eyes closed, almost in surrender, easing under the warmth of his hot breath fanning your face. “I think what would help me is if –”
He immediately stopped. Your eyes opened and met his. There was something so familiar about his expression. He looked … you couldn’t put your finger on it. But your mind was flashing back to a memory: his dark eyes burning into yours, glasses slightly askew, a halo headband that was cutting into the sides of your ears, the damp autumn leaves at your feet and the buzz of tequila in your system. A memorable Halloween night from a few years back. All of that reflecting in the face of the man in front of you. Your best friend. Who was now looking at you like he was hearing something from the past in his head.
Your brow raised. He took a step back.
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
Just three words, shutting down an entire conversation before it could even start.
You shook your head, brows drawing together and voice suddenly desperate. “It does matter. You can tell me. You’re … you’re my best friend.”
He winced. Just for a second, but you saw it.
“No, it’s … it’s fine. Seriously,” he added, even as the tips of his fingers were lightly grazing your knuckles, making every hair on your body stand up. Your toes curled inside your socks. “We – I can try again. I promise, I’ll have more open body language.”
His smile was so sweet, agreeing to your every whim because he knew that was the best way to get you off of something. But not tonight, because you both knew why he was doing this. It was that push and pull again – when feelings began to rise over that structured wall you both built brick by back, one of you had to push it down.
And the realization of that – of what almost could have been – was making you panic and want him closer all at the same time.
Wonwoo rounded the island and grabbed the carton of yakisoba before crossing the short distance to the couch. He kicked back, digging into the greasy noodles that would surely do a number on his stomach later. Without looking back at you, he asked, “Wanna rewatch Clueless again?”
You stood in the kitchen and gripped the edge of the counter, attempting to calm your racing heart. Like clockwork, his voice from the living room centered you, reminded you that everything was going to be okay. Things were still good. It was just you and Wonwoo. Friends.
Mustering the best smile you could offer, you grabbed the lukewarm karaage and quipped, “As long as you promise not to insult my girl, Cher, ever again.”
Wonwoo left your apartment a little over halfway into the movie, falling asleep with stray yakisoba noodles on the collar of his sweater. You couldn’t blame him: it was midnight and his body naturally got tired at 11, no matter how much sleep he got. He made sure to help you clean up all the takeout, even in his tired state, and slipped a twenty underneath the candle on your coffee table for always feeding him, knowing you wouldn’t except it unless forced. You walked him to the door, and he lingered – just for a moment – his sleepy gaze on yours while his fingers jerked slightly on the doorframe. Something between you two ached, but not enough to grasp.
So he left with a faint, “Goodnight,” and headed down the stairs for the subway.
The door shut softly, leaving you alone again in your apartment, and the silence was … overwhelming. The kind where you could actually hear a pin drop. Not even your upstairs neighbors were fighting. It was just you, and your own thoughts, as you stood in your kitchen, replaying the conversation that happened earlier.
I think what would help me is if –
An unsettling shiver rolled through you. Back pressed against the door, you sank down until your ass hit the floor and your knees were drawn to your chest. You buried your face in the collar of your coffee-stained robe. I can try again, he had said. I promise. You rubbed at your eyes, wishing the words would leave your head. But they were on loop like a merry-go-round.
You pressed your chin into your palm. Sighing, you realized that you should’ve taken a shower earlier. Your hair was so dirty and you didn’t want to go to bed smelling like takeout. But you suddenly couldn’t move, too consumed by his responses – or lack thereof.
Your brain was like a remote. You hit pause, then rewind, over and over again until all you could see was Wonwoo in your head. You replayed his hesitation, the way his mouth shut immediately. When his upper lip twitched. His jaw tightening with restraint. And his eyes – the way they softened before he let himself get too close. It was the kind of affection you didn’t show to just a friend, but for someone more.
Maybe he was just frustrated, you told yourself. Because what other explanation could there be?
You were too complicated for him. Not worth the effort. And the fear of ruining your friendship was too risky to bear.
But then your skin prickled and you realized … this bothered you. Not in the funny way. This bothered you because you hated that you didn’t know what he wanted to say. You hated the not knowing, the waiting on the edge of your seat. The suspicion. Because he shouldn’t have looked at you like … like that. Better yet: you shouldn’t want him to look at you like that.
You thought, just for a mere second, What if he –
And stopped yourself.
This wasn’t about you. It couldn’t. Wonwoo was discouraged and tired after the bad dates. Anyone would be. That was the reason for his hesitation, the jaw setting, his fingers grazing your knuckles as if he was begging to hold your hand.
Placing your palm against your forehead now, you closed your eyes and mulled over every scenario. Swiping through solutions in your head like a Powerpoint presentation: simple, sensical, because this would always be easier than being truthful with yourself. You were strong; you could always carry more weight added to your burden.
“I can fix this,” you muttered to yourself, and instantly got to your feet. You practically ran to where your phone was laying idly on the side of the couch and threw yourself onto the cushions. Opening your Notes app faster than ever before, you began typing up all of Wonwoo’s interests. Completely focused. Before you could let any more thoughts get the better of you.
Perhaps it was time you found someone similar to him.
V.
If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets. –HARUKI MURAKAMI
You wished you could be one of those people who read a book to wind down before bed. Or someone that drank tea and meditated. Someone that experienced true relaxation. But, unfortunately, your brain was always wired, and the only way you found a little sense of peace was from the mere swipe of your thumb on your phone screen.
It wasn’t all play though – scrolling through whatever social media that was your poison for the night allowed you to gather intel for Wonwoo’s next date. Despite him not asking about it. Despite the sting you felt in your chest each time you wrote a name down in your Notes app. You persevered, scrolling until the light made your eyes burn and you knew it was time to finally sleep. In just a few hours, your eyes would be back on a screen again. Your life revolved around light and screens, ignoring the tension that yanked at your heartstrings every day.
Eventually, you felt a shift when your Instagram feed refreshed to show a new post: Harin, one of your old friends from college. The first person to make you pause and sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. The fairy lights above your head flickered, needing new batteries, but your attention remained focused on swiping through the set of pictures she posted.
Harin, you realized, had gotten much more attractive since senior year of undergrad, when you both lived in the same building. She was dying her hair darker, gotten Invisalign to straighten her teeth, even cleared up her acne. It had been years since you last saw her – maybe even since graduation – but Harin had always been … easy going. Helpful. Popular, but also a little nerdy. The kind of girl who didn’t overcomplicate things. Nothing like you.
You picked at the edge of the pimple patch on your chin, because you hadn’t been so lucky with your hormonal acne that came back once in a blue moon. She posted a picture with an abnormally tall glass of beer, then some with people in costume, with the final photo of her in front of brightly-lit booth. She went to some video game convention out of state, the same one Wonwoo had talked to you about for 40 minutes a couple weeks back. Your teeth sank down into your lip, concentrating, as you clicked on her profile and began looking through all her old posts.
Mutual connections. (You both had several.) Tagged posts. (Did she have any bad angle?) Her story highlight that documented her Letterboxd reviews. (You dreamed of watching this many movies in a year.) There was something here. Maybe there wasn’t chemistry – only time would tell – but there was alignment, something everyone needed in their lives. A sense of symmetry. Two pieces that fit so perfectly that it was shocking they never crossed paths before.
You sat back more, playing with a strand of damp hair while zooming in on a picture of her from a concert she went to a year ago – some niche band you might’ve heard Wonwoo also mention. Her smile was effortless. Her hair was shorter and she had star earrings that dangled from her lobes. And suddenly, a thought hit you, cutting, like a blade: He wouldn’t have to explain himself to her. They would just click.
Biting the end of your fingernail, you processed the future before it even had seeds to take root. A bad habit that you weren’t willing to break now, because this could work. Harin made sense. Wonwoo and Harin made better sense.
No more weird looks. No more charged pauses. The dust would settle between you and the man that had been your best friend for nearly a decade.
You swiped to DM her before you could stop yourself.
You drafted a message. It was long, too personal, so you deleted it.
Redrafted, and still, too much. Frustration poured out of you. Why did every message feel like too much pressure? You needed to keep this simple.
You: hey, harin! you seem like you’re doing really well. weird question – are you single? I think you would really get along with my friend. you both like the same things!
The message was perfect, so why was your thumb hesitating over the send button? There was no reason to hesitate; you never did. You were impulsive, almost to a fault sometimes. You could stop this. Close the app and be honest with yourself for once. Quit pushing your feelings down and drowning yourself with work. You could –
Sent.
Your lips pursed. You set your phone down and hugged your knees to your chest, the clean sheets pooling over your bare feet. The room was still, colder than before. Maybe even quieter, although you didn’t quite understand how that was possible. You hadn’t breathed properly in more than a minute. Then, somewhere deep, past your ribs where your greatest desires roamed free, a tiny voice escaped to ask, What if he doesn’t want someone else? What if he wants you?
But you didn’t let yourself process the words, because your phone dinged and – shit, Harin had answered you. She was thrilled to hear from you, congratulated you on your accomplishments. Conveniently, she was now living just outside of the same city, but she seemed uncertain. I don’t typically do blind dates, she wrote. So you made it easy for her by sending a picture of Wonwoo – the one you took of him last winter, when he was carrying both large buckets of popcorn before you went to go see an anniversary screening of Twilight – and she immediately agreed to meet him for a date in the city.
You shared his Instagram profile with her, telling her to message him on there. Maybe texting was too much pressure on him. Maybe her taking the initiative and messaging him on a safe place like Instagram would give him less anxiety. That seemed to be the source of his issues. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.
She was so kind, so excited to reach out that she was asking for advice on the perfect message. And you thought, for once, this might be the date that actually worked out, but you’d been let down by Wonwoo time and time again. No one seemed to be worth the effort. But Harin could be.
You didn’t tell Wonwoo that you sent his profile to Harin, but he kind of figured you were behind the sudden DM he got from a woman totally and completely out of his league. You weren’t exactly hiding your involvement; you were simply … letting Harin do the work. And maybe your assumptions had been right after all, because when Wonwoo texted to let you know that he knew you set him up with Harin, he seemed … more inclined to go on the date than usual.
You weren’t sure how it was possible, but you felt both the satisfaction of being right and stab of something sharp in your heart all at once. Neglecting the latter was easier said than done.
He told you their date was on Thursday night, and conveniently, you were stuck at the office for longer than usual, making sure the latest marketing project with in tip-top shape before you submitted it to the VP tomorrow. Even your subordinates stayed well past their time, wanting to make sure you didn’t have to be at the office alone. It was 7 PM when you all finally left, and you sprinted fast enough to make the 7:15 train, which – of course – was packed to the brim. You were squished like sardines next to an old man who smelled of cigarettes, and you found yourself pushing through the crowd as soon as your stop arrived.
It was strange that you hadn’t heard from Wonwoo yet about the date, but you tried not to think about it that much as you got through the doorway of your apartment. Too tired to even call for takeout, you toed off your office heels near the door and settled on a frozen dinner. There weren’t even any leftovers in the fridge. As you placed the hard brick of lasagna in the preheated oven, you phone pinged and you retrieved it faster than you liked to admit, heart hammering in your chest.
Wonwoo: On my way over :)
Your brow arched. Since when the hell did he text smiley faces? You set the phone back down, and irritatingly threw your hair up into the most unkempt ponytail imaginable, loose strands hanging from the backside of your head. Why were you so frustrated? An emoji didn’t mean anything. And there was nothing to be angry about. Your mind was still lingering on work, projecting your exhaustion onto such a non-issue –
The door opened just as you were pulling the now bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the kitchen island before looking up at your best friend. Spring had definitely come, because Wonwoo was wearing a striped button up that was halfway tucked into his jeans and a light jacket. His hair was messy, as if someone had ran their hands through it, and he had a smile on his lips that was … real. Not tired or forced. Genuine.
The room shifted and neither of you had even said anything yet.
“Hi,” you addressed immediately, realizing his gaze had drifted down. Too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even noticed that he had been taking in your disheveled blouse, the pencil skirt that hugged your hips too perfectly, the sheer black tights that made him jealous of any man at work who got to see you in them.
But then his stare was instantly on yours as soon as you spoke. His smile reached his eyes and he replied, “Hey.” It was casual, sure, but there was … energy behind it. The kind of energy you never heard from him before.
You stuck your fork in the lasagna, and before you could even place it in your mouth, he dipped his pinky in the red sauce. Your chin tilted up, watching his expression sour. “It’s tastes …”
You leveled a look at him.
“– Better than anything I could’ve made,” he recovered, and you noticed the pep in his step as he headed for the living room, tossing his jacket on the coat rack.
You paused, eyeing him with suspicion from the kitchen, before looking back down at your sad excuse for a dinner. It was late. You were tired. And instead of eating the greasy goodness of takeout, you were left here with a shitty lasagna and your best friend who looked like he had far too much fun on the date you set him up on.
This wasn’t time for a pity party.
Rounding the corner, you carried your foil tin of lukewarm lasagna to the couch and sat down beside him. You crossed your legs and anxiously pulled at the hem of your pencil skirt before asking, “Did the date go well?”
His smile got bigger and you had to fight the urge to throw up the huge bite of shitty pasta in your mouth. Usually, his debriefs were short and flat. Lacking any kind of emotion because clearly all he wanted to do was watch a movie with you. But he was speaking a little louder this time, gesturing with his hands as he said, “It was … really good actually.”
He went on to talk about the arcade bar they went to, one she knew about before him. He eagerly told you about how she laughed at all of his jokes, especially the bad ones, and how they were into almost the same things. Video games, music, even the same soju flavor. How the fuck had you set something up so perfect? You had to stuff forkfuls of lasagna in your mouth just to stop your teeth from grinding down.
But … wasn’t this your plan after all?
“She’s also really funny,” Wonwoo continued, breaking you out of your thoughts. He ran a hand down his face, as if remembering something she said. “You were right about the game thing. I don’t know many people that have played Arctic Warfare, and she’s apparently good at it. She told me her rank. Crazy. We kept arguing about this mechanic in the game that always makes my brain go –” He shook his hands in the air, laughing at the memory.
Your tone remained normal, despite the war inside your head. “Yeah? What’d you guys play at the arcade?”
This set him off on another tangent, explaining the hour long foosball game they played that ended in him paying for another round of beers. Harin had felt bad, insisted that she was kidding and let them split it, but he wanted to. And then let her pick out her favorite game at the arcade to play next. (It was pinball. You hated pinball.)
“She went to that convention I told you about recently,” he continued as you set the half-eaten tin on the coffee table, suddenly queasy from eating too fast. “And – oh, wait. She showed me this cosplay she did last year. Check it out.”
Wonwoo pulled out his phone and unlocked it, her Instagram profile already pulled up. He found the picture immediately – like muscle memory – tilting his phone towards you to show you the Animal Crossing cosplay she made. Her smile was so bright, cute, in the photo, pink cheeks and yellow eyeshadow on her eyes.
You cleared your throat. “Oh, that’s –”
“Cool, right?”
“Yeah, cool.”
He grinned big, placing his phone right side up on his thigh. Something he never did while at your apartment.
“She understood every reference I made. You know how sometimes I make those references to Portal and you kinda stare at me like I have three heads?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that –”
“She completely got all of them. It was … seriously funny.” He was laughing again, the kind he only did when he was drunk or when you reminded him of the time in junior year of undergrad when you puked in a punch bowl at a frat party. It was sacred and intimate, and right now, it was because of … Harin.
He met your eyes with a soft, authentic smile. “The date was fun. It was … easy.”
You felt your eye twitch.
Easy.
One word had never caused so much devastation to run through your entire body, the type you couldn’t will away with the armor you built for years. To compare yourself to another woman was cheap and not like you whatsoever. You would never think that way because you would never pit women against each other. It was wrong. Distasteful.
But Harin was easy. And you, certainly, had never been that.
As he continued – and you were keenly aware that this was probably the longest he spoke in all the years you knew him – you thought back to his previous girlfriends. The ones from college, the girl he dated three years ago … All those women he’d been attracted to were nothing like him. Opposites attract, after all. But Harin was the farthest from opposite. Your goal for this date had been symmetry, someone that aligned with Wonwoo, which meant this was a success. She changed something in him.
You felt the soft drop in your stomach.
Oh, you thought, he might actually fall for her.
That was the reason why you started this whole thing. It shouldn’t be a shock, right?
Right?
“So …” You played with a loose thread on your skirt, asking the question you always did. The one where you got the same answer. “Would you see her again?”
You were used to his hesitation, the way he would ponder exactly how to say, No, in the nicest way possible. But he didn’t do that this time. Wonwoo’s lips tugged up again as he replied, “Yeah. Yes, I think I would.”
There wasn’t much excitement this time, but his tone was unquestionable. Certain.
Good, you told yourself, this is good.
The silence between you two felt heavy. A constant, wavering cloud of gray.
This was what you wanted.
That knife in your heart dug in deeper, twisting, and you felt the invisible gush of feelings pour out of you. So much that you didn’t know how to push them back inside.
Then why does it feel like this?
His phone buzzed, breaking the tension completely. You sat up a little, peering to see who was on his lock screen, but you already knew the answer. Wonwoo smiled shyly and opened up his texts with Harin. Like clockwork, she was asking if he’d like to go on a second date. He was giddy; you could tell because he was making that face that he only made around you. But he didn’t want to show it, because he was getting to his feet and muttering, “Let me answer this and then we can watch a movie.”
You were completely frozen, hands laced on your lap as you grappled with reality. Every other date didn’t sting like this, because he didn’t like them. Not like this. Those bad dates kept him as yours, but this one might not. And – god, it was wrong of you to ever think he could stay yours because he was his own person and your best friend, but this hurt and your brain felt like it was imploding.
“Hey.”
You turned, seeing Wonwoo lingering by the doorway of the living room. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks for setting this up,” he said. “I mean it this time.”
You forced a smile. “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, you licked your lips and told yourself that everything was going to plan, that was a good thing. You repeated it like a mantra, hoping it would stick. And you believed it … for about ten minutes.
Wonwoo, rather unconsciously, tortured you with information on every date he had with Harin. If he couldn’t come over to talk, he simply texted you. And you feigned interest because – maybe, just maybe – you were terrified that he was going to forget about you. He was just so excited about her, and you could tell. This was your doing and all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But now he was happy and it wasn’t just with you anymore. What if, sooner or later, it wasn’t with you at all?
You had bitten your nails down to nubs because of it.
He had gone on more dates with Harin, almost every week for the entire month of April. Spring was quite literally in full bloom. He had even taken her to see the cherry blossoms – something you both typically did together. (But it was fine. It had to be.) He wasn’t coming over as often anymore and the takeout you got on Thursdays and Fridays started to taste a lot worse when you were alone. You thought you had gotten used to being alone all these years, but not like this. Not when the thoughts got too loud and you missed him so much that you debated on downloading a dating app. But then you thought back to that horror movie and decided you didn’t want to go on a date with a possible serial killer.
The bed you had made for yourself was cold and not in the good way. The kind that reminded you how lonely the armor around your heart had become. How yearning felt worse when your best friend wasn’t by your side.
You tried to busy yourself with work like always, but not even the late night phone calls from your worried boss were a good enough distraction. (Although, they did keep you up on the customer service hotline with whatever billboard company he decided not to do business with anymore.) For a second, you considered calling up your ex – the older one, Sean – even just for a one night stand. But Sean had never been one for casual. And you couldn’t remember the last time you were intimate with someone.
The fear struck you like lightning. You stirred in bed, flipping onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After attempting to go to sleep early, it was clear that your racing thoughts were going to keep you up, making dread pulse in your chest.
What if no one ever wanted you again? Not even just intimately, but physically. Your presence.
Worse – what if Wonwoo didn’t want you anymore?
The sound of the oscillating fan at your bedside drowned out, leaving you with the echo of the words that just came into your subconscious. Somehow, the world got so quiet, and you were clutching at the stretched out collar of your pajama shirt, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. What the fuck – this couldn’t be anxiety, could it? No way, you hadn’t felt that in year. You were being dramatic, ridiculous, and –
Your phone vibrated and you had never swung so fast to grab it.
Wonwoo: Sorry for the late text but I miss you
Wonwoo: It’s starting to get warm at night and my fan here sucks compared to yours
Wonwoo: Do you have plans Saturday night? Maybe we could get some drinks at the dive we like
And suddenly, breathing didn’t feel so hard to do. You accepted, of course, because the opportunity to see him after so long was more important than anything else in the world right now. He had never been one to initiate plans, so the fact that he was – let alone, asking to meet you at a bar – was progress. He missed you. Of course, he did. You were best friends, but it was clear that the distance truly made the heart grow fonder.
You prepared what you were going to say, how casual your tone was going to be, and the exact beer you planned to order – Stella Artois, of course – but your entire plan seemed to be interrupted when you turned your head to the side that Saturday night. The bar was getting more full, and you could see from the space you cleared out for him at the bar top that Wonwoo wasn’t alone. His hand was on a woman’s back as he ushered her forward and – oh my god, he brought Harin.
Your body froze mid sip as the cold bottle of Stella was at your lips. Wonwoo pushed his wonky glasses up on his nose and waved to you, helping Harin get through the growing crowd, and it took everything in you to force that smile. Once they were in front of you, your eyes raked down and took in the pretty sundress she was wearing: purple flowers scattered in a pattern over white polyester. She looked beautiful and still so casual with her hair undone like this. Your hand smoothed over the off-shoulder top you picked up on the Express clearance rack and your jeans that were a trusted pair since college, suddenly self conscious. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way, but then you noticed how she was the perfect height next to him and now you were picturing yourself as a fucking Amazon woman next to her and –
You needed to stop this, but you were already upset, eyes getting the tiniest bit pink as you went in to hug Harin. She slipped past you after to order her drink of choice – a rum and Coke – at the bar, and that was when you felt Wonwoo pull you into his broad chest, and you realized just how well you fit here, his nose pressed against your hairline. Your fingers notched into the short sleeve t-shirt he was wearing, and then he muttered, “Missed you,” making you tug on that cotton a little more than a friend should.
“You too,” you replied, voice muffled by his shirt. “You’ve been busy though.”
He laughed under his breath before whispering in your ear. “She wanted to come see you after all these years. This okay?”
“Of course,” you replied, but there was no vigor behind it.
He hummed as you leaned back from him, and he absentmindedly lifted your hand to notice how badly you’d bitten down your nails. His brow furrowed, but you pulled away before he could comment.
Taking out his wallet, he handed Harin his credit card so she could get them both drinks. “You should’ve waited for me,” he said, nodding towards the Stella in your hands. “I wanted to buy your first drink.”
“I’m very capable of paying for my own beer, Wonwoo,” you remarked, and then realized how bitter you sounded, how the frustration that you pummeled down for weeks came up to the surface so easily. Your expression softened as you added, “You can pay for my second.”
He smiled, all goofy and kind. “Sounds good.” Noticing the strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, he reached up to push it behind your ear at the same time Harin was turning around with the drinks. Wonwoo’s hand instantly retracted, but came back out to take his card that she handed to him.
“Oh,” she beamed while handing Wonwoo his Stella, “you guys like the same beer.”
Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to you with his chin. “She turned me on to it. I was into Guinness for a bit.”
Harin stuck out her tongue in disgust and you suggested to move over to a high top table, desperate to let this conversation die before it could even begin. You didn’t want Harin thinking that you were one of those weird girl best friends, that you and Wonwoo had secretly hooked up on the side – even though that … definitely did happen in college. Nevertheless, you didn’t want her to have any assumptions of you. This night had already gone off the rails and you were desperate to get it back on track.
So you asked how they were doing, which was another mistake on your part because then Harin glanced at him and he was doing that goofy smile all over again. But not at you. Especially not now. She sipped at her drink through a tiny straw, nudged him with her elbow, before mumbling, “C’mon, you tell her. Don’t be so nervous, Nunu.”
Nunu?
You blinked.
When the hell did he start liking that nickname?
Without meeting your eyes, his hand found Harin’s wrist on the tabletop as he muttered, “I asked her to be my girlfriend last week.”
“Oh,” you blurted, and his gaze instantly lifted to yours. Your lips sealed for a moment, and then you added, “I meant … oh! That’s great news. I just never …” You should stop yourself, because Wonwoo’s eyes looked like he was pleading with you to be silent and Harin was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in this sea of drunk people. “You’ve always taken so long to be exclusive. I never expected it. But I … I’m happy for you two.”
Harin’s face shifted into a huge grin, her eyes closing and her laughter hard to control. Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief that he thought no one noticed, but you did. You took a long swig of your beer as Harin looked to Wonwoo to exclaim, “And you were nervous to tell her! I told you that it wasn’t a big deal.”
That made you both pause. Your eyes flickered to his, the beer bottle frozen to his lips, and you set your own down on the table. Your hands were sweating as much as the cold glass. “You were nervous to tell me?”
He took a sip and shrugged. “Well, I –”
“I think he just …” Harin’s voice trailed off as she looked at him, her own hand coming up to lock around his wrist now. “He values your opinion more than anyone else’s. I’ve noticed it when he talks about you. Besides his parents, I took you as one of the most important people in his life.”
She was speaking in his direction, but once she finished, her head turned to you and she gave you the kind of smile that made you utterly hate yourself. Not out of jealousy, but because she was kind and perfectly perfect for him. Unchallenging and effortless.
For a moment, you were stunned, not sure what to say. But then you were setting down your beer again and suddenly replying, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”
You spun on your heel, shoving yourself through the crowd of people that had assimilated around the bar, before finally propelling inside the two-stall bathroom. Walking up to the sink, you clutched the edge and let yourself breathe for a minute, inhaling the heavy scent of Febreze. You debated on splashing your face with cold water before you remembered that you decided to not wear waterproof mascara tonight.
He values your opinion more than anyone else’s.
Bile started to rise in your throat, making you cough and finally turn on the sink to cup water into your mouth. Your eyes got pink again, but you held back the tears that were damn near burning to be let out. If you cried now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you’d be damned if you let yourself cry over this. Over something so … nonsensical. What were you even upset about anyway?
The soft sounds of Maroon 5 only got louder when the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of Harin’s flushed cheeks. She smiled at you and you immediately sucked in whatever boogers were trying to leak out, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands. “I didn’t get to tell you yet,” she said, walking forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into her orbit, “but you look even better since college. I’m in love with this top.”
And to think you were second-guessing it an hour ago.
She leaned back to grin back up at you, and looking at her now … you could see how she was able to charm just about anyone. People said that about you sometimes, but Harin was different. Something about her aura made you instantly want to let your guard down, feel more at ease, realize how silly you’d been feeling about all of this.
Until you remembered she was now your best friend’s girlfriend and something about that deeply unsettled you.
“Thanks,” you smiled as she detached herself from you. “I really like your dress too.”
“My mom got it for me! Target find, I think.” She shrugged, quickly washing her hands and looking over her shoulder at you. “I stalked you on LinkedIn a little bit. Not sure if you got the notification. You’re a Marketing Director now? That’s so cool!”
“It’s fun sometimes,” you waved off, unsure how to take compliments, even at this age. “You must be doing something cool now.”
She shook her head and dried off her hands. “Nah, I’ve been at the same software developer position for years. But I want to get into game development at some point.”
God, you thought, I really did find him his match.
You nodded, unsure what to say next, but then she was approaching you and reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. She looked up at you like you were important, like you hung the stars one by one. “I just wanted to thank you privately,” she whispered, “for introducing me to Wonwoo. I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings this fast or got along with anyone so well, and I just … thank you. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
Your heart broke, and you needed to mend it in an instant. But this stung more than you could’ve prepared and it wasn’t fair that you were hurt when this was your doing. The bed you made. The music you had to face. Etcetera, etcetera.
“It was no biggie,” you muttered, wondering how you could make a break for it. Even if that meant going into one of the stalls that had more litter on the floor than a dumpster.
“It is a biggie. It just feels like …” She trailed off, looking off to the side as she mulled over her next words. “You know how I knew it was a big deal when he asked to be exclusive? He wanted to watch a movie – In the Mood for Love – and I learned only later that was one of his favorites. Did you know that?”
Of course, you did. It was only a couple months ago that you two watched it together and he never added anything to his Letterboxd Top 4 so fast.
But you shook your head, eager to get this over with. Maybe you could pretend to be nauseous and go home early.
“It was during a really pivotal scene that he insisted I pay attention to,” she continued, “but then … I felt his hand in mine. And it was like … the way you can feel someone looking at you. Then, he asked me, and something about it felt so right. The moment, his hand … everything. Which I know sounds super corny, but I just … I know this is good for me and I have you to thank. So again – thank you.”
You took the opportunity to carefully slip your hand out of hers. “You’re … you’re welcome,” you forced the words out. “I’m really glad it’s working out and you’re good for him too. This is … the best news.”
You sent her one last quick smile before your shoulder brushed hers. “If you’ll excuse me. My beer must be getting warm,” you added with a chuckle.
In that moment, as your palm pushed against the door and you felt the humidity of the packed bar all over again, seeing your best friend wave and keep watch over the high top table … you realized that getting over him might not have been what you wanted in the first place.
VI.
I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night. And now I see daylight. –TAYLOR SWIFT
October 31, 2023
It was a particularly warm Halloween. A slight breeze had settled over the brightly lit city, but humidity lingered from the constant on-and-off rain all day. The weather just made the local dive that much hotter: bodies packed like sardines in a small bar that still smelled like cigarettes with a tinge of men’s deodorant. You and Wonwoo had moved downtown a few months ago and were lucky enough to find this place so close to your building. And the best part was – no cover charge.
Not that they could with how bad it smelled in here, but beggars couldn’t be choosers sometimes.
You were wearing a cheap angel halo from Dollar Tree that was far too tight on your head with a pair of light wash jeans and a top that fell off one shoulder a bit too far, enough to make a few men turn their heads and Wonwoo stand close. He had no costume – of course – but maybe he had the right idea when it felt like this headband was compressing your actual skull. However, when a pirate woman that was far too inebriated from multiple Dirty Shirleys asked what his costume was, he replied, “Game developer,” with a cheeky smile.
After twenty minutes, you were finally greeted with the sight of your friends from your new job pushing through the crowd to get to your free corner of the bar. You handed Wonwoo your beer without thinking – and he had to make a mental note which one was yours since you drank the same beer – as you tugged Jennifer into a hug. She was flagged by your other coworkers, Felix and Hunter, who he only recognized because he heard those names come from your mouth more often than not these days.
He introduced himself when you brought them over, but still kept to himself, practically sinking into the corner of the dark bar as you rambled on about something ridiculous happening with your new boss, who seemed like an anxiety-ridden mess. But you already knew that. You were distracted, yet you could still feel Wonwoo’s awkward presence near you. He had always been quiet, since the day you sat next to him in that History of Cinema class, but something was different tonight. Although he didn’t say it out loud, you knew he was still thinking about the girl he broke up with so he could move around the same time as you. He always said that she was nothing more than casual and the career opportunity he got here meant so much more, but … his demeanor tonight spoke to more than that.
Sometimes you wondered if Wonwoo just wanted to belong to somebody.
You wanted to tell him that he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him, but something about that felt too intimate.
Leaving the bar with a fresh buzz, your arm hooked around his and you allowed him to take the lead for once. Wonwoo might’ve been a tiny bit tipsy, but his broad shoulders and height made it easier for him gain the upper hand when your footsteps got a little too fast. You had one too many tequila shots more than him and it was enough to make you feel tingly, to make you a little overconfident when you tried to walk without his help. It almost ended with you face-first on the sidewalk.
Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you tripped over the tip of your shoe, and then simply … never let go. His palm was so warm in yours, albeit a bit sweaty, but you assumed that was from the fluctuating weather. And totally not because of anything else, even as he avoided eye contact.
He kept you close, bringing you into his side when someone else walked past. Your hand was in his sweaty one for a solid three blocks until you reached the door to your building. Feet slowing, his hand slipped out of yours, and it was supposed to look casual but when you turned to him, he was clumsily punching said hand into his jean pocket and trying to hide his pink cheeks.
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling the lip gloss you put on earlier crust at the corners of your mouth. It felt like your brain was swimming, drowning in whatever cataclysm of feelings you were trying to flush, but it was impossible. Wonwoo was impossible.
“You can stay over if you need to,” you offered. “I don’t want you walking back to your place all alone.”
Wonwoo shrugged. “It won’t be that bad. I might just have my roommate pick me up. I think Mingyu’s hanging out with someone just a few blocks away.”
He was staring at your hand, and you noticed, enough for the heat of your gaze to make his chin finally lift like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Nodding, you replied, “Thanks for going out with me tonight.”
His smile was effortless, so incredibly easy. “I know you hate spending Halloween alone.”
You chuckled, spinning slightly to hide your grin and purposefully whacking his shoulder with your purse. “It’s too spooky,” you argued, turning back to him and realizing now that his body was suddenly within reach. Your lips pursed and you met his dark eyes, the tequila in your system suddenly making your guard slip, as if it was made by mere paper and not bricks.
“Sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me.”
His body went still, taking in your response, and then he asked quietly, “Is that … okay with you?”
Words failed you, dying on your tongue like ash, but you still allowed gravity to pull you in his direction. You were closer now – close enough that your chests brushed, feeling his warm breath on your face. It made a cold sweat appear on your hairline that mingled with the vaguely cool air around you, a reminder of the bitter winter ahead. But at that moment, it was just you and him, and the fallen leaves collecting in puddles around you, and the humidity that made your hair frizz a little. The alcohol running through you had your cheeks flushed and when your head tilted down, you realized your pinky was hooking with his.
You never wanted anything more than this: his warmth, his presence, Wonwoo. The only person that you trusted with your life. Your closest friend. You wanted him everywhere and nowhere. Wanting him was a blessing, but it was also too much, suffocating you from the inside out.
Your gaze lifted to his again, and your lips parted to say something that might ruin everything: “I think … I think I’d be okay with –”
But then, you hiccuped. And again, and again. Enough that you had to hold your breath for a couple seconds to calm down. Your finger was still looped around his and you didn’t look down to make sure it was real, but you felt his thumb running over your knuckles in a way that screamed want. Desire.
The tingles from alcohol started to fade, remnants of tequila ebbing away, and you reframed instantly. Your pinky carefully slipped out of his and you chuckled, “Obviously. You’re my best friend. I mean – that’s kind of the point, right?”
Wonwoo hesitated, brow quirking up for a less than a second. “That’s … that’s good.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back from you. Your fingers twitched, already missing his warmth.
“I should get going.” He crooked his thumb over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “See you next Thursday for movie night.”
May 7, 2026
He hadn’t been coming to movie nights.
Out of all things, Wonwoo typically didn’t skip a movie night. Not even when he had a date. Hell, he was frequently trying to watch one with you after the dates you put him on. But once turned into twice, and then it was May and the peonies were sprouting in the soil by your apartment and Thursday had become their date nights.
It’s the best day for both of us, he told you in text once. I don’t usually work past 5 and her meetings end around 4:30. It just worked out that way. Which you couldn’t blame him, because Harin was his girlfriend and making time with her mattered. But there was this thing called a weekend – that they were using for dates too (you’d know; you saw the cute photos Harin posted on her Instagram story) – but of course, Thursdays were date night too. Convenient for them. Lonely for you.
You typically embraced loneliness like an old friend. It was never cold – actually, it was rather comfortable – but you regarded it with indifference. You had been alone for so long that you were used to it. It didn’t matter, as long as you had your friend. But your friend was preoccupied with someone else now – someone you set him up with. And this was supposed to make you feel good, but for the first time, you felt yourself grimacing when the shroud of loneliness appeared at your bedside and you flipped over, curling a blanket around yourself despite the heat.
So you called him.
You shouldn’t have. You should’ve let the feelings fester and eventually, they would pass. They always did. But it was another Thursday night alone and the mindless arguing from the reality show on your TV was doing little to silence your loud thoughts. Your glass of homemade sweet tea was left abandoned on the coffee table, water dripping down the sides, as warm air filtered from the open window. Summer was near and yet the spot next to you on the couch felt cold as ice, like someone had deserted it for longer than normal.
You flipped your phone over before you could stop yourself, scrolling down to his name. It was late and he was probably just getting into his apartment after seeing Harin, but you didn’t care. You didn’t really care about anything anymore, truthfully. The line only rang for two seconds before you heard a click and he was saying your name. So faint, like a prayer.
For a moment, you were sure you heard Harin’s muffled laughter leave the speaker.
“Are you just never going to come to movie night again?”
Wonwoo paused, and then said, “Hello to you too.”
“It’s late and I have to go to bed soon because I have a 9 AM meeting tomorrow. I don’t exactly have time for ‘hellos.’” It was a lie, and you both knew it. You’d been staying up way longer than you should’ve most nights and going to work exhausted. It could probably be heard in your voice.
He exhaled heavily, and you could almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for skipping. It’s just … you know why. But I feel terrible. You have to know that too. You know I wouldn’t skip plans with you if there wasn’t a legitimate reason.”
You picked at the corner of the pimple patch on your jaw, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been skipping a lot of things recently.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
There was an indistinct woman’s voice on the other end, and then a door closed. He was alone now.
“Wonwoo,” you chastised, “you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
“Is this still about movie night? I’m not a mind reader.”
You took a moment, swallowing down your pride and sitting up. If you didn’t say it, you feared you never would. The festering wouldn’t cease until you let the word vomit out.
“I feel like you’ve just forgotten me since you started dating,” you said, and then clarified, “since Harin.”
Silence echoed. The minute began to draw out, enough for you to ask, “You there?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “just thinking.”
“About what?”
Wonwoo clicked his tongue then. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
Your head jerked back, the grip on your phone tightening. “It is. I’m happy for you. Don’t I sound happy?”
The sound of his lips opening came muffled through the speaker, but you kept going on.
“I just –” You let your head fall into one hand as you rubbed at your temples. “I’m frustrated. I know people grow apart as they get older, but … I don’t see you anymore and it’s like you don’t give a fuck.”
“Now you’re putting words into my mouth.”
“So? Who cares?”
“Well, it seems like you do.” His words made your heart sink into your stomach, like you’d been caught in the biggest lie of your life. Maybe you had. “Why do you care so much?”
You blinked. “I …” Every nerve in your body died. Even if you wanted to speak, you couldn’t. There was nothing to say anyway. How could you possibly explain the truth when you had buried it in the deepest cavern imaginable for so long?
Finally, your mouth began moving for you: “I just think you’ve forgotten about your friends.”
Wonwoo sighed, frustration evident in his tone. “Listen,” he started, “You’re my longest friend. I know this is what you like to do. You like to fix people because it feels good –”
“It’s not just that, Wonwoo –”
“– But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” he added. “I do.”
Any response you had ready seemed to burn in your throat. It was like he took your whole vocabulary, leaving you mute and helpless as static buzzed from your line to his. Your mouth hung open slightly, and you prayed something would come out, but … nothing. You were nothing in a sea of nothingness and Wonwoo wasn’t yours anymore.
Eventually, you heard him exhale with a tinge of regret. “You there?”
You moved your phone away from your ear, staring down at his contact name. The text began to blur when you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself; this hurt but you would survive. You always did, and he’d come back to you and you’d accept him with open arms because this was you and Wonwoo after all. Every friendship – or whatever this was now – went through a rough patch.
But instead of replying, you immediately ended the call.
Wonwoo didn’t come back like you thought.
Silence stretched, thinner than a bed sheet. The distance was colder than you imagined, almost arctic, and you felt it settle deep in your bones, but it did nothing to cool you at night when the humid breeze blew through your open window. No communication was harder than it looked, but in your defense, you really hadn’t expected this. And now, you were too embarrassed to even text him, the fear of rejection still clawing at you just like in college. (Let’s be real: it never really went away anyway.)
You had never been broken up with in the twenty-something years you’d been alive. Typically, it was you who broke things off, and sure, you were sad afterwards, although nothing ever lingered because it was you who ended it in the first place. Maybe you were heartless; maybe no relationship really mattered like Wonwoo’s friendship – but no breakup really hurt. This, however, felt worse than you could ever imagine. Your entire world seemed like it was falling apart and you couldn’t even go to him.
You missed him – more than you ever thought you could, more than that time he went away to Italy during summer break junior year – but you were getting by as much as you could. Jennifer took you out for drinks, and the sugary margaritas made your head swim for a solid night before you were right back to sulking in your chair at work. You got a promotion – one you had been gunning for for a year, one that you deserved. That felt good, and finally, your mood was turning around. Even your parents were going to visit for your birthday in September, something they hadn’t done in a few years. Your mother’s usual saying, “It’s always so busy around your birthday,” graduated to, “I think this year calls for celebration. The last year of your twenties is a big one.” There was a possibility of them cancelling, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
So many things to be excited over, and you were trying to focus on them, especially on those dreaded Thursday nights. Instead of popping a movie on your TV and watching it in silence like a lonely 50s housewife, you were taking matters into your own hands. Matters that involved a leak you tended to ignore every time it came back. You were blasting the loudest heavy metal music possible though your AirPods, the kind of stuff you hadn’t listened to since high school, as you tried fixing your bathroom faucet on your own. The sink was older than the apartment, it seemed, and would leak at the most inopportune times. You had been paying a technician to come fix it almost every year, but after the last time when he stared at your chest a little too long, you decided maybe it was time to get up off your ass and try.
In a loose pair of sweatpants and a tank top that was doing nothing to hide your genetically lopsided boobs, you hunched forward and inspected the pipe below the basin. You watched a tutorial online, then watched it again, and settled that this should be easy enough. Gone were the days of you paying a pervy technician far too much money to stop a leak that kept happening. You were a new woman now: independent, self-sufficient, definitely not lonely.
You followed the instructions to a T, but something was just wrong. Maybe it was the day or some form of karma that just wouldn’t get off your back – you would never know. Using all the strength in your body, you tried turning the shut-off valves clockwise, but it was hardly budging. It was like there was something preventing them from moving and condensation was already creating a puddle on your tiled floor. You even tried turning the water on and all the way off to see if something was just clogged, and yet … nothing. Were you really that weak that you could figure out how to fix a fucking sink?
There had to be a solution you didn’t know about. Connecting the drain to the stopper was a washer where the leak was dripping from. You picked up your wrench, the tip of your tongue meeting the corner of your lips, like you did when you really concentrated. The music blaring in your ears was reaching a peak, the bridge so loud that your could feel your neurons kissing – or whatever it was that neurons did. Maybe if you yank the wrench this way around the washer that would stop the leak –
Water erupted from the pipe, spraying all over your face to the point you felt like you were being fucking waterboarded. You reached out with fumbling, desperate hands, trying to tighten the washer again with your eyes closed, realizing you’d been stupid enough to leave one handle turned. After a couple more seconds of what you could only describe as a horrific form of torture, the washer went taut and the water stopped, albeit still leaking, but at least it wasn’t blasting into your nose.
You slumped back against the wall, coughing up the water that had entered your nose, before resting your head back against the peeling wallpaper. Your body was soaked, the thin cotton of your tank top completely ruined and your sweatpants looking like you pissed yourself, and – oh, now you were crying.
Tears welled up before you could stop them, rolling down your cheeks and clogging up your throat. The current song in your ears faded, replaced with an equally louder one that you simply had to turn off at this point. You couldn’t prevent the sobs from absolutely wracking through your body, like it was relieving tension from your system. But still, something about it almost felt violent: your face was turning red and you could already feel a headache coming on as tears practically stung at your eyes. You looked at the sink like it killed someone in your family and it was in that moment that everything became clear. Well, somewhat – warm, wet globs were still falling and it almost hurt to breathe.
You couldn’t believe you’d met your match and it was a sink.
The realization hit you and it felt like you were wearing an invisible dunce cap. You couldn’t fix everything. You could try and do everything in your power, but there was always going to be something that couldn’t be fixed on your own. And it wouldn’t feel good – actually, it made you feel like utter shit – but you had to get over it. You couldn’t do it all and not everything – not even a faucet – could be fixed.
As your eyes followed the water trickling from the pipe, you knew then that you’d been treating Wonwoo like this, like a sink. A project instead of a choice. Perhaps it should’ve been clear when you told him to go into his dates like a job interview, or when he told you that his dates weren’t a performance review. There were a multitude of times when you should’ve realized, but you didn’t,and now you were paying the consequences with this leak in your bathroom and no Wonwoo by your side.
You got to your feet and padded to your room for a fresh set of clothes. It wouldn’t help sitting there and sulking at the stupid leak you couldn’t fix.
On the rare occasion that your absent-minded mother called you to check in, she’d ask you the same things – “Are you still working at that company? How’s Wonwoo? Did you get a cat yet?” – but one always stuck with you, to the point her voice would echo in your head before you went to sleep. Sometimes she’d prod about why you weren’t dating anyone, why you hadn’t experienced love yet when you were pushing thirty. And it stumped you, because surely, you should’ve experienced love at least once. But you never wanted to think too deeply about it out of fear, and then came up with a quip like, “I’m waiting for a love like I’ve seen in the movies. Find me my own Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally, then we’ll talk, Ma.”
It was all farce though.
And as you sat down on the edge of your bed, clean clothes abandoned in a neatly folded pile at your hip, you knew the reason why now. You’d always known, deep inside yourself, but you pushed it down for so long that these feelings had no choice but to come up when a leaky faucet made you the most defenseless. Like your armor of sturdy bricks had finally crumbled from a mere gust of wind.
You were in love with Jeon Wonwoo.
Maybe you always had been.
VII.
Orpheus: How will you remember?
Eurydice: That I love you?
Orpheus: Yes.
Eurydice: That’s easy. I can’t help it. –SARAH RUHL
You attempted to text him for an entire week, an abundance of words spilling from your subconscious, the same ones you buried since the day you shook his hand while saying, “Just friends?” That one sentence seemed to haunt you for life, repeating over and over in your head when not even audio porn could dull the ache in your chest. You poured your heart out into your phone all week: ranging from essays you drafted in the Notes app to actually opening up your texts with him and letting the bright light blur into your retinas until sleep finally took over.
Nothing was right though.
Maybe it was all you. The ideal words just weren’t coming and it was all too embarrassing. You weren’t 28 anymore; it felt like you were 11 logging onto AIM with trembling fingers before messaging the boy you liked. The same boy that you shared Social Studies with, that you didn’t give a Valentine’s Day Fun Dip to because you thought that would make him like you – but I digress. You were shriveling into your past shelf and you didn’t know how to make it all stop.
The next blow hit before you were able to expect it.
While you’re on your lunch break eating the saddest salad known to man, you open up Instagram and see a story update from Harin. Instinctively, you know you shouldn’t. It could be nothing and it would still make you upset. The last thing you needed was to drench this limp salad with your tears. Your finger hovered over her icon, and you almost stopped yourself but the temptation was too much.
A video started playing, making your hands fumble as you struggled to turn the audio down and grab your AirPods at the same time. Once they were in, you replayed the first video: she was showing off a new apartment with a big smile. She was so beautiful and graceful as she moved around the new place, presenting the big kitchen and best indoor heating system for the winter. (You wondered how she’d fair with your tiny space heater in the kitchen, and you chuckled to yourself.) She opened the door to the bedroom, rambling on about the size and how it was made for two people.
You held your finger down to pause. Made for two. As in … a couple. Moving in together.
Lifting the pad of your finger, her voice came though your headphones automatically: “This move all came up pretty fast,” she sighed, plopping down on the clean carpet. “But it’s a new opportunity and I’m so excited to start this new journey, as corny as it sounds. I’ve been a little bit of a cornball recently. If you know, you know. Trying to romanticize my life and all that.” She slid down to lay on the carpet then. “Here’s to new beginnings!”
It was wrong to jump to conclusions. You knew that; you preached it. But when your heart was beating a little too fast like this, it was hard to not make your imagination run wild. Because obviously, Wonwoo was moving in with her. After only a few months of dating. You knew it shouldn’t come as much as a shock because she was his girlfriend after all, but also you thought maybe – just maybe – this was something he could’ve told you. Even when you both weren’t speaking.
You stood from your desk, smiling politely to each coworker you passed until you got to the bathroom. It was only when you locked yourself in a stall that you felt the devastation hit you. Like an avalanche. Your palms laid flat on both sides of the stall as you stared at your feet, waiting for something to change. But it was just you: calm on the surface with your feelings eating you up inside, swallowing you whole until you were nothing left.
If you didn’t confess, then you’d become a shell. A walking set of bones and muscles. But what if he completely cut you off? What if he was disgusted, absolutely horrified that someone who was supposed to be his friend had been hiding their feelings for ten years? You couldn’t blame him, but you didn’t want to imagine losing him. Not yet.
Friendship without honesty was still a loss. It was time for both of you to be honest with each other.
After a debilitating train ride, you almost reconsidered your plan. But as you stepped onto the platform for the stop closest to Wonwoo’s apartment, looking around at the crowd of people swarming around you, the only way out was in. You couldn’t postpone this to another day; not when you’d been repeating this cycle since college. So you pushed through – past the tired women in blazers that were looking forward to their Friday night glass of wine, past the men on the phone with their partners and assuring them they’d pick up whatever they wanted for dinner – until you got to the stairs and climbed up. You were out of breath by the time you got to the top, lungs burning, and a drizzle was starting to fall, but you sprinted forward into the crowd. Your dying courage would lead you to where you needed to go.
Once you were standing outside his building – newly refurbished a few years ago with a huge garden planted in the front – you began to dig in your work tote for your keys, which still had his fob attached to it. You didn’t use it very often since he was almost always at your place, but it was instances like this that you were grateful to still have it in your possession. Swiping it at the door, you tugged at the handle and stepped inside, pulling off your wet hood as your shoes squeaked all the way to elevator.
Sometimes you wished you had the strength to just move into a nicer building like Wonwoo’s. It wasn’t like you didn’t have the money, but you had just gotten … accustomed to your old place. The heating system was shit and the lack of proper AC sucked in the summer, however … there were a sense peace there that you never experienced anywhere else. That was where you built a home and memories. With Wonwoo.
As the doors opened and you stepped inside, it started to settle in what you were doing. Your heart rate kicked up like a drum, and your nails were pinching tiny crescents in your palms. This was really happening. Why the fuck were you doing this again? Could you really not get through another few years of pushing down these feelings and postpone this all over again? You wanted to, desperately, and you were half tempted to turn around. But your feet had a mind of their own, walking out of the elevator that stopped on the third floor, halting at his door and rapping your fist against it.
You still had time to back out. He might still be on the way home from work. Maybe it was just Mingyu there right now, and he’d keep your secret if you left. If you spun on your heel and already started for the elevator, he wouldn't be able to see you –
The door opened, and there was Wonwoo, blinking at you in surprise. He was running a hand through his combed wet hair, fresh from a shower, with a black t-shirt that was clinging to his slightly damp body and – oh. No matter how old you got, a pair of grey sweatpants would always get to you, especially on him.
Meeting his eyes again, you asked, “Are you busy? Can I come in?”
His lips pursed for a moment, and as much as you knew he wanted to be mad at you, his face softened. “Yeah,” he nodded, holding the door more open, “of course.”
You stepped through the threshold, noticing that his living room was as clean as it would get, something he had gotten sick of you chastising him for so you fought to always keep your mouth shut. Bills and junk mail were scattered on the coffee table, but you noticed – right near the TV – a candle was lit, almost burnt to the bottom. It was the candle you gave him for Christmas last year. The one he said reminded him of you.
Placing your work tote near the door, you didn’t bother sitting down, didn’t even take off your rain jacket. It was just you and him, standing in his living room that was lit with just one candle and an artsy lamp that his roommate had bought. You didn’t hear any rustling anywhere else; Mingyu must not be home.
A smart person – someone wanting forgiveness – would say something simple, like hello. But you didn’t, because clearly this was the stupidest decision of your life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You blurted, making his brow furrow.
“What are you talking about?”
You gawked at him, and then replied, “Don’t play stupid, Wonwoo.”
He was blinking again, confusion wracking his brain. “I wish I was. I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I saw Harin’s Instagram story.” You paused, suddenly so aware about how childish you sounded. Getting upset over something as silly as Instagram. Your mouth went dry, and when you met his eyes again, you realized he was waiting for you to say more. “About the new apartment.”
“Oh,” he nodded, then thought for a moment. “Wait, she got the apartment?”
Your lips opened for a moment, processing his words. Something was off; were you both talking about the same thing right now? Why would he not know if his girlfriend got the apartment, presumably for the both of them?
“Are you intentionally acting dumb?” You asked, a little more irritable than you should be. He tilted his head and your hands balled into fists, standing up straighter. “Because if you keep doing this, I’m going to start crying again and I’m already so high strung and I haven’t slept and I’m confused –”
Wonwoo stepped closer then, his face losing every hint of anger towards you. He wasn’t really angry; he could never be that angry at you. His large hand circled around your arm, and you could feel the caress of his thumb running up and down even though the thin layer of your rain jacket. “Hey, take a breath,” he insisted in a soft voice. “Everything is okay.”
You inhaled sharply, and then let it out. Your gaze was practically glued to his as you felt every wall that was ever created inside you crumble. Originally, you assumed there was just one, tall as the eye could see, made of bricks. But there were actually several walls, and when your eyes connected with his, you could practically feel them collapsing in your stomach, one after the other.
“It’s not though,” you finally said. “And it pisses me off that you’re still so calm about this.”
His hand slowly left your arm. “About what?”
“About you and Harin moving in together!”
Wonwoo went silent, brows drawn together, and then he muttered, “Oh, that’s what this is about?”
“What else would it be about?!”
“Harin and I aren’t moving in together.”
You blanked. “Excuse me.”
“We actually aren’t …” He looked off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. Your brow shot up to your hairline. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Oh, I …” You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in my head for days. I shouldn’t have assumed –”
He mimicked your movements, and now you were both shaking your heads at each other like bobble heads in a toy shop. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just –” He exhaled heavily, and now it was your turn to grab his arm. You watched his body physically relax under the heat of your palm, his eyes fluttering down to burn into yours. “I broke up with her two weeks ago. She wanted to me to partially move in with her to see if our lives were compatible. We’d only been together a little under two months and I wasn’t ready. Obviously,” he added, gesturing to the state of his shared apartment.
You squeezed his forearm, and maybe you were just imagining it, but you swore you could feel his pulse quicken.
“I don’t think I would ever be ready. Because I’ve never …” He paused, and if he didn’t continue, you were sure that your courage would vanish. “I’ve never gotten over you.”
The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your voice so small when you replied, “What? Ever since –”
“Sophomore year.”
Your grip slipped from his arm. “But I thought you … you had never met anyone worth the effort?”
Wonwoo leveled a look at you, like he’d been completely obvious all along. “You have never been just anyone. I thought you knew that.”
You scoffed, acting so nonchalant as if you both weren’t confessing to every feeling you ever had for each other. “Of course, I didn’t know. I’ve been setting you up on dates because I thought if I fixed your love life …” You feigned a laugh as your hand came up to your mouth. “Maybe it wouldn’t blindside me. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when you really fell in love with someone. And of course, I was very wrong about that one.” Swallowing hard, your fingers were now lacing with his, placing your heart in his careful hands. “You deserve someone great, Wonwoo. Someone who doesn’t push her friend away because she’s in love with him.”
And just like that, they were out of your system. The words flowed off your tongue so easily too, like he was always supposed to know. Like you were meant to tell him all those years ago.
His voice was so low that it almost sounded like a breath: “You’re in love with me?”
“You’ve never been just anyone either, Wonwoo,” you sighed.
He shook his head. “But I thought … I thought you said … you said we would ruin everything if we tried.”
“I was terrified. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship when it just started, and then years went on and … nothing ever went away. I thought about you all the time.”
Wonwoo took a moment, relishing in the feel of your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. He finally brought your laced fingers up, his nose brushing against your wrist as he breathed in your scent. You smelled like that perfume he loved, and paper, and rainwater – everything he loved about you and more. Because he loved you. Of course, he loved you, and you could see it in his eyes, and now you were wondering how you survived being this blind for so long.
“I thought I lost my chance years ago,” he murmured, his naturally long lashes sweeping against your skin. “I thought you truly wanted me with someone else.”
You realized then that your face had moved closer to his without knowing, wanting to be more in his orbit. You couldn’t remember the last time you both were this close. “I thought I did, but …” Your top teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s true anymore. And I’ve been sick to my fucking stomach because all I’ve wanted to do is be honest, but there was never a good moment or the right words.”
His chest was pressing against yours now and your fingers unlaced, only so he could hold your face in his warm palms. He shushed you, already seeing the tears prick at your eyes when you got too worked up, wiping them away with his thumbs. “Come on now. You’ve always known the right words to say,” he smiled, and you felt your mouth wobble at just how good he was. You had been an ass to him, you had hid these feelings for years, and yet … he always let you in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest too. Every time I had a bad date, I thought it was proof that wanting you was useless. So I opened myself up, because I thought Harin might just be it. But she wasn’t you.”
His thumb traced your lip, making you release it from in between your teeth. “No one’s like you.”
You did your best not to cry again. All those years of blocking the tears were catching up to you. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” you muttered. “I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you. But I guess you can still be a coward even at our age.”
“You’re not a coward,” he laughed. His finger swiped down the slope of your nose, as if he was committing every bit to memory. “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone. You were right – I did get caught up in the relationship, but I was trying to so I would forget about my feelings for you. I didn’t mean any of it. I like that you fix people.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he confessed, and then his lips pulled into a smug grin, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “Sometimes I like when you micromanage me though.”
The shock that this was all happening hit you, practically struck you like lightening. You stuttered out a series of incomprehensible words, until you finally asked, “Really?” All the confidence, bitterness, it seeped out of you when Wonwoo’s lips were this close to yours. “Well, I … maybe I could –”
“Finally let me kiss you?”
“Oh.” The tension in your body faded, and your hands were curling around his neck because this was happening and he was oh, so yours. “I mean … I guess that’s fine.”
He sneered, “Always needing the last word –”
Your mouth crashed onto his and it felt – god, nothing was more right than this. Your first kiss in college had been messy, almost clumsy, two young adults trying to figure out what the other liked, but Wonwoo had been a quick learner. And oh, did he remember. He didn’t forget the way you liked your bottom lip being sucked on, or how your breath hitched when he licked inside your mouth. His hand slipped from your cheeks, down your torso, before resting on your hips and pulling you even closer by your belt loops. Your fingers were tracing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his tee, an area you didn’t realize until now made him kiss you harder.
“Mingyu’s not home,” he breathed against your lips, shucking your rain jacket off your shoulders.
“I don’t care either way,” you quipped, more desperate than you realized, because you had already started shoving him to the right, where his room was located. Your mouths a hairsbreadth apart, you asked, “Do you still know how to do that thing with your tongue?”
He pulled back with confusion when his spine hit the door of his bedroom, and then realization crossed his features. “Oh, that. I might be out of practice. You were the first person I ever went down on and –”
You raised a brow, causing him to smirk. “It would be an honor,” he replied.
Once his bedroom door closed, the goofiness cleared out of him and his hands were tight, all over you like this was your first time all over again. He had your back pressed against the door, your wrists in his firm grip and pinned over your head. You chased his lips as he went from kissing you soft to hard, making you huff because – Jesus, you really were starved for his attention. Tugging on your bottom lip, he released it and let his mouth trail near your jaw, breathing in that deadly perfume again. The same one that didn’t cease to make him hard.
And you felt it. Right against your leg, heat seeping into your slacks. Was he not wearing any underwear?
“In case I didn’t say it already,” he muttered, his nose now connecting with yours, one palm sliding down to thumb at your nipple over your blouse. “I’m in love with you too.” His teeth skimmed your jaw again, then your collarbone, sucking hard on a particular spot and you felt like you could maybe cum untouched. This was pathetic, being reduced to nothing at your big age from just a hickey.
“I’ve been dreaming of the day you’d let me in,” he hummed, squeezing your breast and feeling the weight in his palm, “when you’d let me touch you again.”
Your knee nudged in between your bodies, smoothing over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, already feeling the warmth pool in your stomach, panties drenched and desperate for anything.
“Are you gonna let me micromanage you now?”
Your eyes snapped open, lips pursing as you processed his dirty talk. A snort escape you, and he lifted his head to look at you from underneath his messy, wet hair. His cheeks were tinged a pale pink. “Sorry,” you giggled.
“It sounded sexier in my head,” he muttered, releasing your wrists so he could use that hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want to … right? I think I have condoms somewhere. If not, I’ll steal one from Mingyu. I’ve seen his dick once. Accidentally. We’re kind of similar –”
You placed a hand over his mouth to get him to quiet. “This is the most you’ve talked about your roommate and I’d rather not think about him before you fuck me.” Letting your hand fall, you played with the hem of his t-shirt, fingers now splaying on his lower abdomen. His skin was hot to the touch, still a little damp from his shower. “Don’t worry about it – I’m still on the pill. Hormonal acne and all that.”
Now your cheeks were pink, embarrassment creeping through your entire body. But Wonwoo was quick, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip again, and you relaxed by pulling him closer with the ties of his sweatpants. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth, “always have been.”
Before you could catch your breath, he was picking you up and laying you down on his bed. You landed on top of the remote, making the TV flicker to life, and the soft sounds of When Harry Met Sally filled the room. But Wonwoo was too distracted to notice, one knee between your legs and nudging them apart as his mouth descended upon yours again. He kissed you breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d be content if you were the only person he could kiss forever. And when he lifted his head, half-lidded eyes burning into yours – you knew it was true. He didn’t even half to say it.
Sitting up slightly, his deft fingers slowly started unbuttoning the puffy-sleeved blouse you wore to work today. (Which you definitely didn’t expect him to be taking off when you dressed yourself this morning.) When all the buttons were free, he paused, simply admiring the view of your exposed stomach, the curve of your breasts nestled in your bra. You almost wished you wore something cuter, but how the hell were you supposed to know this was going to happen? You grabbed his hand, calling out his name in a voice that he had only heard in his deepest fantasies.
“Sorry, I just …” He finally pushed the fabric to the side, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. As his hand came around to unhook your bra, he continued, “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”
You realized then … that night in his dorm – you hadn’t taken your t-shirt off. Anxiety had riddled your head, too scared of him seeing all of you. Although you had let him between your legs, being fully nude was different. That was true vulnerability, and you hadn’t been ready for that.
Until now. You shrugged off the bra, letting it fall onto his floor, and laid back.
He was looking at you like he’d seen God.
So you took his hand in yours and placed it on one of your breasts. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, leaning down and wrapping his lips around one nipple. Your back arched off the sheets – purple, the same ones you bought him when he moved here – moaning softly while he played with the other nipple in his right hand. The weight of them was out of this world; all his perverted fantasies when he saw you in low-cut tops coming to life in this very moment. Every time he felt guilty for staring at you too long – they didn’t matter anymore. Because you had wanted this just as much as him.
“God,” he huffed, mouth dragging over to the other nipple, laving his tongue over it. “You’re a dream come true.”
Maybe he was just in love but the sounds you made were practically pornographic. Your hips bucked against his knee in between your legs, begging for friction. You could already feel your own arousal through your slacks – a mortifying cleanup you’d fret on tomorrow morning. As much as he wanted to play here forever, he knew how much you wanted his tongue inside you, so he relented.
His gaze on yours, Wonwoo peppered kisses down your stomach, making sure to nip at that beauty mark near your belly button, before he stood tall again. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, you were reminded just how toned he had gotten since college. You had never like a hulking, strong man, but Wonwoo had definition, hidden muscles in his biceps that had gotten bigger than you thought. He hid all this underneath those oversized tees, the sweaters he wore to work everyday. It was like he crafted in a lab specifically for you, nerdy interests and all.
Setting his glasses on his desk, he finally pulled down on the zipper of your trousers, and you both worked together to shimmy yourself out of them. But you almost wished you didn’t, because underneath those slacks was the evidence of just how much you wanted this, how utterly wet you were for him.
Wonwoo leaned over you again, so close to your face that you could see the lines underneath his eyes. “You’re completely soaked,” he murmured, snaking a hand between your bodies to graze two fingers down your clothed slit. The material of your panties was practically translucent, and your hips bucked immediately. “Needed me that bad, huh?”
“Don’t act so smug –” You barked, until you felt it: one finger pushing the fabric to the side while the other just barely prodded at your entrance. Breath hitched, you whimpered, “Yes.”
He smirked, going back down and kneeling at the foot of his bed. Pulling your panties off slowly, you expected him to take his time, even though you had both been waiting for this longer than you could remember. A yelp escaped your lips when he hauled you forward, and you felt his hot breath there, making you clench around nothing. One ankle rested on his left shoulder, opening yourself up to him, and you were pushing back hair from his forehead when you realized he was inhaling your scent. Your breathing stuttered, barely able to get out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t shave –”
His face was already buried between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth like candy. Your head thrashed to the side, fingers digging into his hair and you yanked at him – hard. He groaned into you, teasing your wet hole with the tip of his tongue, devouring you whole. Everything about you was intoxicating: your taste, your sounds, even the way you pulled at his hair. It felt like you were actually trying to rip it out, and truthfully, that was a fate he’d risk if it meant he could stay here forever. Between your thighs, lapping at you until you were overstimulated and begging him to stop.
Your hips were now bucking against his face, free hand clenched at your side, as you lost yourself in the magic of Wonwoo’s tongue. The memory of how good this was in college diminished to nothing in that moment. He was out of practice and yet, this was the best you had felt in a long time. Wonwoo had this way of sucking on your clit before tongue-fucking you like it was out of style, and then repeating those steps all over again, sometimes using his nose to play with your clit in between. You yanked on his hair again, bringing him that much closer as you moaned, “Wonwoo.”
“Harder.”
“What?” Your head lifted.
His eyes met yours from the end of the bed. Mouth just barely leaving your pussy, he demanded, “Pull my hair harder.”
He didn’t give you a second to respond, already diving back into you. His mouth wrapped around your clit and you yanked on his hair as hard as you could and – the groan he let out reverberated through your entire body, making your nipples hard all over again. You felt that tip of his finger again – no, it was two – sliding into you and nestled in that place only he would remember. Because Wonwoo was attentive. Wonwoo remembered. He knew that the best way to get you there was tugging your clit between his teeth while he crooked those two fingers against a spot that made your thighs shake.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping his fingers into you. “You’re so tight.”
You pulled on his hair, making him press his erection against the bed frame. “It’s been a while.”
He was looking up at you again, noticing the way your jaw clenched, and he clarified, “That doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. A name you never thought you’d hear from his lips. You clenched around his fingers, sucking them more in.
“You close?” He asked, going in to drag his tongue through you. “Want me to edge you?”
You scoffed. “You know I don’t like that.”
He chuckled, slipping his fingers out to lick them clean. “Maybe next time.”
A snarky reply was on the tip of your tongue until his tongue was circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Three fingers were now stuffed inside you, sliding in and out while curling against that – “Yes, right there” – spot. If you felt this full with his fingers … you couldn’t even remember what his cock felt like. Your breathing was already uneven and he was moaning while sucking on your clit and – oh. Your orgasm crested and you were pulling on his hair so much that you were sure there’d be a funny, little bald patch after. His name fell from your lips and he kept licking you through it, grinding his achingly hard cock against the bed.
Despite his own greed, Wonwoo pulled away when your ankle relaxed on his shoulder once again. You already looked so fucked out on his bed: chest heaving, sweat dotting your hairline. This was something out of a dream, one that he had many times, leaving him waking up hard until he fisted his cock to completion. Your arousal dripped down his chin and he hardly made an effort to clean it up, instead crawling up on the bed and kissing you breathless, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands had other plans though. One tugged on the ties at his waistband, while the other slipped under it, finding his erection so easily. No underwear, just like you assumed.He was throbbing, precum staining the thick fabric of his sweatpants, and you trailed a digit along the base. “Since when do you not wear underwear, you pervert?” You laughed against his mouth.
You felt him smile against yours. “In my defense,” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I didn’t exactly expect anyone would be coming over.”
“What about Mingyu?” You squeezed at the middle of his shaft, earning a grunt from him.
“I thought we were done talking about my roommate before I fuck you.”
Your nose wrinkled. “Touché.”
He sat up on his knees between your legs, allowing you to help him pull his cock out. Wait. Was he always this big? That night in college was clearly a blur because this was not what you expected. The trail of dark hair that led to his groin didn’t surprise you – he had always been on the hairier side, too lazy to shave even his fingers – it was the whole package. His cock was long, thicker than you remembered, that dark hair trailing all the way down to the base and scattered around his balls. He had just two veins etched towards a flared pink tip, dripping more precum onto his sweats that were hanging just under his ass.
You didn’t even bother having him kick them off, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly dragging it up, his whole body tense as he held himself back. He almost fell forward, but then braced one of his long arms by his hip to steady himself. “This is – fuck –” He muttered when you squeezed him at the tip. “This is evil.”
“I’m micromanaging.” You grinned, your finger leisurely tracing the vein on the right side of his shaft, making his knees buckle.
He laughed under his breath. “You have no idea –” His jaw shifted when you started pumping him a little faster. “– How many times I thought about this.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he choked out. “Felt so guilty after I jerked off – fuck – but nothing got me hard like the thought of you. And then, there were the dreams –”
Your hand paused at the base. “Wait, you’re being serious?” You asked, and his eyes flashed open, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Then, you confessed, “I had dreams about you too. Touched myself and imagined it was you. For years.”
“Oh, my god.” His head fell into your shoulder, as if this revelation was physically painful. Or maybe it was because your grip was squeezing him a little too well. “If we don’t finally have sex, I think I might cum.”
You chuckled, louder than you expected, placing your free hand over your mouth. But he removed it as your other palm slipped from his cock, muttering something about how much he loved the way you laughed, but your heart was pounding too much to hear it. Hooking one of your legs around his waist, he gripped his cock and guided it forward, nudging your entrance. His eyes lifted to yours, darker than you’ve ever seen.
“Tell me how much you want it,” he muttered, but his tone suggested that it was more of a demand. “How much you want me inside you.”
Your brow lifted. “Don’t be silly. I thought we were on a time crunch here.”
Now his brows were shooting to his hairline. “So you don’t want it?”
“Wonwoo, stop playing around –”
You hadn’t even realized until you felt it: his hand leaving his cock to rub slow circles on your already sensitive clit. Legs parting even more, you whined and you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “What was that again?” He smirked, pinching your clit in a way that made your toes curl.
“Jesus, okay – I want it so bad,” you moaned, eyes closed as you surrendered to his touch. “Wonwoo, please – just … Oh, my god – please, fuck me. I think I might go fucking crazy if you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds –”
He pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt. You almost cried from the stretch. It was more than you expected, but you now realized that maybe you should stop having expectations with Wonwoo. He groaned, still rubbing your clit to get you to loosen up more, while hiking your right leg on his waist higher. Savoring the feeling of finally being inside you again, he peppered kisses on your cheek, humming against your skin, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” and, “my best girl, my sweetest girl.”
“It’s so – too much, Wonwoo,” you mewled, even though you suddenly didn’t want to imagine a second without him stuffed inside you like this. So full, so deep – you wondered if you’d feel him the next day.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, tilting his head to graze his lips over yours. “I know you’re tight, but you can take it, right?”
He leaned back slightly to look in your eyes, wiped the tears that threatened to fall, and you nodded.
“Good girl,” he muttered before pulling all the way out. You didn’t even have a moment to catch you breath before he was slamming back in, his jaw unhinging at just how good you felt.
This was different than that time in his dorm. You were both older, not all that wiser, but there was purpose here. He created a rhythm between you two that had you feeling every vein, every fucking ridge, and you were now wondering who taught Wonwoo to fuck like this. Because it surely hadn’t been you. Or maybe this was just a case of his memory again, because it only took him a few deep thrusts to find the perfect angle that brushed your g-spot, causing your legs to jerk upward. He caught your right thigh before it fell, and then bullied his cock back into you as stars flashed in your vision.
Your arms wound around his neck, fingers raking at the nape of his neck, and then pulling, just the way he liked it. “Fuck –” He groaned, his warm breath mingling with yours. “Missed you so much. Missed being inside you. God –”
The discomfort subsided, as if your pussy had molded itself to the shape of his cock, and it was then that you realized that you never wanted to fuck anyone besides Wonwoo for the rest of your life. You had ten years to have your fun, but this – he punctuated your thought with a hard thrust that made your whole body tremble – was it. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want anyone else.
Just Wonwoo.
You whined out his name, yanking on his hair as he filled you to the brim over and over again. His fingers – those long, fucking fingers – tweaked your nipples just right, and your back arched into him. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged, catching his lip between your teeth for a moment. “Close. So close. Wanna cum with you.”
“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” he promised, making that warmth in your gut pool even more. If he didn’t get you over that peak soon, you were going to lose it. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
It was almost funny: the lewd sounds of him fucking into you mixing with Billy Crystal reciting the most devastating monologue known to man as When Harry Met Sally continued on his TV. Your focus shifted when his fingers gave one last pinch to your nipple before dragging down, down, down – all the way until his thumb was rubbing circles on your aching bud again. Harder this time. Like the way you pulled his hair. His digits were harsh, eager to feel you tighten around his cock. He wasn’t even fucking into you anymore; he was buried so deep that you felt him everywhere.
But then it happened: your walls clamping around him, your breathing stifled, and he was trying to fight the urge of cumming himself to praise you. “That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You whimpered his name, orgasm crashing over you, and he was still rubbing your clit. “There you go. I got you, sweetheart.”
Your whole body was shaking, and it felt almost religious coming undone for him like this. Like it was written in the stars, or maybe your own obliviousness. It felt like every good memory led to this: the best orgasm of your life with the man you’d been in love with since you were 20.
When he felt your walls start to unclench the slightest bit, that was his cue to move again. He pulled out, and then pushed back in so deep that it felt like you were cumming all over again. Fucking into you like this would become an addiction, he just knew it, because when he finally chased his high and practically cried against your mouth, there was no other feeling like it. The way you held onto him, sucking him back in like a vice, as he fucked his release back into you – maybe you were made for him all this time.
All those years depriving himself of this left him desperate and enamored. He was already going soft but he was still pushing into you, not letting any of his seed escape, and you were clenching yet again, cumming all over his cock like it was the only thing you knew how to do. In all honesty, Wonwoo was tempted to keep going, but when he saw the way your body was damn near shivering in his arms, he decided that it was probably not the smartest to overstimulate you during the first time in so long.
He waited almost a decade for you. He could make up for lost time eventually.
Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly, feeling you smile into it. Even though him slipping out of you felt empty after all that, you were almost grateful for the reprieve. His soft cock pressed against your thigh, but he stayed there, on top of you, kissing you like you two were 80 and had been doing this all your lives. You hoped that could be your future after all. Because when he leaned back slightly and your hand came to rest on his jaw, you saw the kind of love you secretly always wanted: the kind that would span years, reincarnated in different people.
Wonwoo rolled onto his back, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants back up before relaxing against the pillows. You curled into his side and he picked up the forgotten remote, seeing the credits run across the small TV at the foot of his bed. “Shit, we missed all of the movie,” he joked.
You chuckled, arm circling around his middle as he tugged a sheet over you. “We can rewind.”
VIII.
You are where all roads lead back to. Parts of you exist in everything I’ve ever loved. –UNKNOWN
You had never been one for morning sex. Always preferred to wake up without distractions and get to your day as soon as possible. Wonwoo might change that though.
After realizing that it was a Friday night and the both of you had no plans the next day, he obviously had to twist your arm to stay over. You had come to his apartment with no plan, just the tote bag you brought to the office everyday and your rain jacket, so you mildly freaked at the idea of staying over without your favorite toothpaste or facial cleanser, only to find out that Wonwoo kept them stocked just in case. Like he was waiting for the day you slept over again. Except it was different this time, because you were dozing off in his arms as he whispered, “I love you,” and your smitten ass was saying it back.
Waking up to his chest against your back, hard cock pressed into your asscheek, as his hand snaked around to your front to dip his fingers between your legs wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you liked it. Far more than you ever realized. And you supposed that maybe you secretly wanted this to happen because you did fall asleep in just his t-shirt. (Who’s to say?) It wasn’t long before he was having you cum on his fingers, prying your legs open with his own so he could fuck you on your side like this. Your head had turned to meet his lips from over your shoulder and – oh, absolutely nothing was better than this.
Once you were both spent, he let you fall back asleep – something you never did. You were typically an early riser, never once allowing yourself to sleep in and waste the day. He knew this already, which meant he had to physically tuck you back in under his duvet so you would make yourself comfortable again. “Just relax for once,” he chuckled before pecking your cheek. “Give yourself another hour. I’ll have Mingyu whip us up something.”
“Oh, good,” you replied sleepily, cheek flush with his pillow, “I thought you were going to cook and burn the kitchen down.”
He flicked your nose. “Funny.”
When you rolled out of bed an hour later, you chose to look decent and pulled on a pair of his clean boxers. You looked ridiculous, covered head to toe in Wonwoo, and even though he had let you borrow his clothes before, this felt special. What’s his was also yours now.
You ran a hand through your tangled mess of hair and tugged it through a scrunchie, padding out into the common area. Mingyu was already gone, probably off to his restaurant, and left Wonwoo some bills to go food shopping later. You crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paused, admiring Wonwoo. He was humming to himself while placing a pod in the Keurig, another steaming mug already waiting for you at his small dining table. You always thought he was handsome, but there was something about his hair sticking up in different directions, the way his sweatpants hung loose on his waist, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose … it did something to you. Nothing was more perfect than Jeon Wonwoo in the morning.
“Is this for me?” You asked, pointing to the mug on the table, and he didn’t even jump at the sound of your voice. As if he expected you there all along.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m almost done with mine, and Mingyu cooked us up some of those fluffy eggs with veggies. The ones you like.”
Sitting down at the table, you crossed one leg underneath the other and took a hefty sip. It was bitter and dark – just the way you liked it. Wonwoo joined you at the table after pouring a splash of milk in his mug, and you both sat there for a moment, perfectly at peace with the silence. It reminded you of that morning – after the first and only hookup – how your knees just barely brushed and the open windows that smelled of fresh flowers, like spring in bloom. Except this time, the weight of liking him didn’t feel like a curse. There were no final exams to worry about. And Wonwoo was now reaching out his hand: still hesitant, but certain. It was a declaration.
An origin wound now healed.
You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We really are terrible at casual,” you mused, “which is why I really want to try this time.”
Wonwoo brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. His voice was almost cinematic as he replied, “Me too.”
