love, to lee donghyuck, is not limited to only three words.
it is love when he traces your spine at midnight, drawing invincible circles on your back, etching his affection onto your skin. you've had a hard time falling asleep lately, he knows — he could tell from the toss and turn of your body and the soft sounds of tiktok late at night. so he makes you chamomile tea and rubs your back — the room smells like eucalyptus oil and him. he presses kisses on your shoulder so tender, as though you were porcelain. he rubs your back until you fall asleep, and the first thing he asks in the morning is "did you sleep well?"
love, to lee donghyuck, is his habit of kissing you every morning. hyuck carresses your cheeks with his palms, snickering at the way you blink your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "baby... missed you while we were asleep..." he kisses you on the forehead, your cheeks, your nose, then your lips. he doesn't miss a single step, maybe adds a few extra kisses on your lips — as though a superstitious routine. he has to do it or else his day will feel terrible. and in a slight chance that he forgot... well, expect multiple messages of apologies and sobbing emojis.
donghyuck tells you he loves you by physically latching onto you every chance he gets. he always says he hates the clingy type — when in truth, he's often the clingy one. you're watching tv? he's hugging your arm, legs rested on your lap, chin buried into your neck. you could feel his breath against your skin every time he makes a commentary, like "that's literally us," and "you think i'm more handsome than him, right?" you're making coffee? he's hugging your back, littering kisses across your collarbone. you're taking a walk? well... the two of you are! he'll go on that walk with you, lacing your fingers together and swaying your arms.
you never listen, and hyuck's aware. he tells you to bring a jacket and you never do. when you start shivering, rocking your legs under the table, hyuck glances at you and sighs. "i told you it'll be cold, didn't i?" he babbles, "you never listen!" nevertheless, he's quick to take his jacket off and lay it on you. "bring an umbrella, it'll rain!" but of course, you don't. still, he'll rush out of practice and pick you up with his car, sighing to see you drenched. "thank god i have your location, i told you it'll rain, baby. i don't want you getting sick." you never listen, he knows. to be loved is to be known, isn't it?
it is also love when hyuck tells you his secrets. he's always been the oldest in the family, rarely ever shows that he's struggling. but sometimes, behind closed doors, when it's just the two of you, he crawls into your embrace, tucks his head into your neck and cries. "i'm tired," he whispers. his voice is barely there, like it's a sin confession and you're the priest. hyuck lets you comb your fingers through his hair and kiss away his tears. to some, it may be a small thing, but to hyuck, it means everything. after all, a secret's an intimate thing.
love, to lee donghyuck, isn’t the three words whispered to you — but every little action he does with you in mind.
Summary | After a break-up with your boyfriend of one year, you find yourself in bed with a handsome stranger you meet at a bar. You pride yourself in keeping your personal and professional life at a distance, never daring to mix the two. That is, until that handsome stranger becomes your new co-worker.
Pairing | Johnny Suh x Fem!Reader
Genre + AU | Romance, smut + strangers to lovers, coworkers to lovers, office romance, secret relationship
WC | 19.7k
Content | Mentions of alcohol and food consumption, side characters (aside from nct members) aren’t based on any specific idols, abusive language from ex, use of Y/N, reader mentions not wanting children, hickies, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, handjob, oral (m+f), creampies, recording, praising, possessiveness, breeding kink, missionary, doggy, mating press, pet names: boss, baby
A/N | I wanted to make this with multiple parts because my original idea could not be posted in just one post without exceeding the post limit. I’m not sure when the next part will be. Also, please note that I do not have any background in business nor do I know anything about how it works behind the scenes, so I tried to make it as simple as possible with the little knowledge I have heh! Let me know what you think & as always, happy reading!
— The Break Up & The Wingman.
“Paying separately or together?”
The waitress questions politely, shoulders tensing as she asks as if she already knows what the man in front of you is going to say. There’s a hint of pity in her eyes when she meets yours, like she knew how this night was going to end the second you walked in with the man you spent the last year with.
“Separately.”
A quiet huff of disbelief leaves the waitress, before she quickly turns it into clearing her throat. You, on the other hand, don’t hide your apathetic demeanor. With a quick hand of your credit card to the waitress, she hastily disappears while you and your now ex-boyfriend sit in silence as those around you continue with their pleasant conversations.
“Are you…okay?”
Your ex partner struggles to meet your gaze, but when he does, he nearly shudders at the way you’re looking through him — like he’s nothing but a tiny spec of dust in the air. This quickly turns into a bitter and stark sound that resembles a laugh upon the realization that his words didn’t quite affect you the way he’d hoped.
“Pathetic.” He whispers under his breath. “This is the exact thing I was talking about! No emotions. It’s like speaking to a brick wall all because of your ego.”
Your jaw slacks open and you run the tip of your tongue against the bottom row of your teeth. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head and a dry, unamused scoff leaves you.
“Did you expect me to be sobbing in the middle of this restaurant while begging you to take me back?”
His jaw clenches and his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. You watch as his fingers tighten into a fist and feel the table begin to shake from his knee bouncing up and down from beneath the table. “If that’s the case, you don’t know me at all.”
With a long sip of the remaining wine left in your glass, your gaze doesn’t falter while the man in front of you seethes in anger at the sight of your calmness. Before he can respond, the waitress returns with your card and the receipt to sign.
“I hope you take this opportunity to better yourself.” The man in front of you lets out as he slips his card into his wallet and then into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Pushing his chair back, he quickly stands. “Otherwise you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.”
Your scoff turns into a dry laugh as your ex-boyfriend pushes past the waitress and out the restaurant doors — the scent of his expensive cologne, that you once loved, now makes your stomach churn. When you look at the waitress, her eyes soften at the sight of your tiny, closed lip smile.
“You seem too good for him.” The waitress quietly comments as you stand and grab your belongings, sliding your card into your purse. “I wouldn’t listen to a word he says.”
“Never planned to.” You assure with a grin. “I apologize for his rudeness tonight. He’s a condescending jerk.” Pulling out your wallet, you hand the waitress a crisp hundred dollar bill as a thank you for the professionalism she upheld throughout the night despite your ex’s awful behavior.
With a swift head shake, she bashfully pushes your hand away before claiming it was too much.
Simply tucking the bill under the bread basket, you give her a final nod before heading towards the bar you’ve been itching to get a drink from since the conversation turned sour very early into the night. Your heels click against the marble floors until you slide into the nearest barstool.
“What can I get you?” The handsome bartender smiles a charming little grin that makes your heart jump for a second, but when you see the silver wedding band on his ring finger, the bubble you’re in pops and you huff a small laugh to yourself.
Of course everyone else is in a loving and committed relationship, except for you.
“Just two shots of tequila, please.” You smile, hiding the disappointment of being single — once again.
Smoothly throwing his cleaning rag over his shoulder, the bartender grabs two shot glasses and fills them up with your alcohol of choice. When presented, you quickly take the shots with ease — letting the sting slide down your throat and warm up your entire body.
“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, but is everything okay?”
You sigh, then scrunch your nose when you look at him. “Bartenders notice everything, huh?”
“Well, either something’s wrong or you really enjoy tequila — and no one really likes tequila, do they?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, his broad shoulders shaking and bottom lip tucking between his teeth.
“I got broken up with tonight.” You dryly chuckle, already feeling pathetic hearing how you sound.
“Ouch.”
“He sucks. I’m just upset I wasted a whole year with him.”
Your bartender’s lips press into a thin line. Without another word, he refills a shot glass with your choice of alcohol. Then pulls out a fresh glass before filling it up again, but this time lifting it up and towards you. “Here’s to a new start, then.”
Lifting your glass, you mirror his movements and you both throw your heads back to let the liquid slide down your throats. You sigh in relief, your body immediately relaxing when you feel the warmth course through you.
“Anything else I can get for you, miss?”
Shaking your head, you give him a quick thanks before you occupy yourself by deleting and blocking your ex’s number, checking your messages, and ensuring you pace yourself to make your afternoon flight tomorrow. After a few passing guests and text exchanges between you and friends, the bartender surprises you by sliding you a martini with a single olive inside.
“What’s this?” You ask with a small smile, stuffing your phone back into your hand bag propped on the bar’s table top.
“Courtesy of that gentleman down the bar.” Your bartender grins, pointing at a young man who gives you a small head nod and a smile hidden behind his whiskey. “Full disclosure though, he’s a good friend of mine and thinks you’re pretty but he doesn’t wanna come over unless you’re okay with it.”
“If I’m not?”
“Then you can take the free drink and I’ll pass on a thank you. If you are, well, everything afterwards is up to you two, isn’t it?” He smirks at you, tucking his hands under his biceps.
You look down the bar, eyeing the way the bartender’s friend casually scrolls through his phone and taking reserved sips of his drink. “And what’s your friend’s name?” You ask aloud, gaze still locked on the man interested in you.
“John.” The bartender nods, watching as you take a cautious sip of your martini. “I’m Jaehyun. I thought I might as well introduce myself if I’m introducing you to a friend of mine.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” You chuckle, introducing yourself before taking another sip of your free drink. “Now be honest with me Jaehyun, does your friend have a girlfriend or wife waiting for him back home? I’m not a fan of getting into drama because a man can’t stay faithful.”
”He’s painfully single.” Jaehyun admits as he quietly laughs under his breath. Looking over his shoulder at his friend, he leans forward onto the bar. “Loyal to a fault, sometimes. He’s a good guy though. I promise you’ll be safe with him. Hell, I trust him with my life.”
”You sound like you’ve known him for a while.”
”Too long.” Jaehyun laughs, his cute dimples making their appearance in front of you. “So, what do you think? Wanna meet him or should I just send him your thanks?”
You pause, pondering the options. But with a sip of alcohol courage, you settle on your answer. “I don’t mind meeting him.”
“You won’t regret it.” Jaehyun playfully throws you a wink and turns to look at his friend. He tilts his head in your direction, a cheeky and knowing smile curling from his lips.
— A Very Charming Man.
The tall man at the end of the bar makes his way to you — dark gray slacks accentuating his long legs, black long sleeve button up shirt wrapped perfectly around his biceps, and a half full glass of whiskey in his hand.
“I’ll leave you two to it.” Jaehyun playfully wiggles his eyebrows after introducing the two of you, then quickly turns his attention to tend to the arrival of new patrons.
With a firm handshake, Johnny locks his eyes with yours as a kind smile curls his lips. Pulling at the barstool next to you, you slightly lean forward and thank him for the free drink he sent your way.
“It’s my pleasure.” He replies, mirroring the way you leaned into him. With a hand respectfully pressed on the middle of your back, he rubs a quick circle before retracting his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here? Is it personal or business?”
“Both, I guess.” A tiny smile dances on your lips before you take a sip of your drink. “I had dinner with my boy—“ You pause and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Ex-boyfriend. And I leave for a work trip. This hotel is closer to the airport, hence my stay.”
Johnny nods, then looks past the second part of your response, clearly not there to talk about work. “So, that guy you were with is your ex?” He points behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the dining area you were previously sitting.
“You were watching me?” You tease, the tip of your tongue pressing on the inside of your cheek. Your head slightly tips to the side and you lightly swivel the stool you’re on, almost flattered by the information he let slip.
Johnny drops his head before rubbing his chin, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Pushing his styled hair back with his long fingers, his jaw slacks open just enough to see the tip of his tongue run across the back of his lower teeth.
“Believe me, I’m not one to look at women who are already taken.” The edge of his mouth lifts into an unapologetic smirk. “But you? You’re hard to ignore.”
Your eyebrows lift slightly and you smile against your martini glass, trying your best to keep your cool while you assume his words are used on every woman he’s interested in.
“Now I’m very curious,” Johnny lets out, palm facing down and fingers sprawled open on the bar’s counter top. “Did he break up with you or was it the other way around?”
“I wish I could tell you I did, but no,” you quietly huff, “he broke up with me.” You bitterly admit, swallowing a big gulp of your alcoholic beverage.
Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, clearly baffled at your words. He shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “There’s no way. Did he give you a reason?”
“Many, actually.” You giggle, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth with a slight head tilt, thinking back on your ex-boyfriend’s reasons behind ending the relationship. “I’m too focused on my career and not enough on him. I have to be mentally fucked for not wanting to start my own family. And he chewed me out for not having sex with him for the last three months.”
Johnny sharply sucks in air through his clenched teeth. “You’re clearly the problem. Those are huge red flags, didn’t you know that?” Johnny sarcastically comments, earning a giggle from you as he grins from ear to ear.
“Yeah, it’s totally me.” You press your palm to your chest, feigning a bit of pain as you sarcastically admit to your wrongdoings. “You’re absolutely right. You should run before it’s too late.”
You and Johnny quietly laugh to yourselves just as his hand slowly cups under yours; testing the waters to see if you’d pull away or not. When you don’t, he leans in just enough for you to smell the fresh aquatic cologne he has on.
“If you ask me, it sounds like you scared him.”
“What?” You giggle, unknowingly squeezing his hand. “What’re you talking about?”
Johnny grins, enlighten at the fact you asked him to explain. “Hot girls are always so oblivious.” He lets out, slightly shaking his head just before he shifts his feet onto the foot rail on the stool he’s sitting on. “You’re so sure of yourself, it scares him. Some men can’t handle that.” Johnny playfully shrugs before finally swallowing the last of his drink.
You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the condensation of melted ice slowly rolling down his long fingers. You tighten your hold on his hand, moving it on the bar top before securing it on your lap. “And where do you fall? Does that scare you, too?”
Johnny’s grin spreads, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. His large hand grabs the leg of your barstool and pulls you closer to him with ease, surprising you with his strength. With your knees fitting perfectly between his, his bold actions cause a flurry of butterflies in your torso and lustful thoughts rush straight to your brain.
“Not at all.” He confidently answers, carefully leaning into the backrest of his stool. “I find it very attractive, actually. I’m even glad he fumbled the way he did.”
“Why’s that?" You giggle as your palm gently rubs up and down the fabric over his thigh. His muscles tense up and you watch the way he casually drags his thumb against his bottom lip.
“Well, for starters, I’m with you right now and he’s not. That itself is a win, don’t you think?” He cockily grins, straightening his posture.
You can’t help but giggle, amused and in awe by his naturally charming demeanor. “Are you always this smooth with your words?” You ask, leaning forward enough to invite yourself into his personal bubble.
You don’t expect him to mirror your actions, but he does and your breath catches when his lips are inches away from yours.
“Only with women I’m interested in.” His gaze falls to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Do you always play hard to get?”
“Only when I don’t wanna seem too eager.” You reply, pulling yourself away. You watch the way Johnny hungrily locks onto your movements before he leans back, too.
“Eager for what?”
You simply shrug and swallow the last bits of your martini.
“It can be a lot of things. You could be eager to have a stimulating conversation or to have someone to help you forget about your ex.” He pauses, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to devour you right then and there. “Maybe you’re eager to sleep with a handsome stranger you met at a hotel bar. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”
You bite back a smile, looking away from the stranger in front of you — almost refusing to admit how easily he saw right through you.
“Can I ask you another personal question?”
“Sure. At this point, I’m an open book for you.”
Johnny chooses his words carefully before he speaks. “You refused to sleep with him. I wanna believe it’s because he wasn’t good in bed, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely more than that.” You chuckle under your breath, sitting up and straightening your posture. You give Johnny a sigh, scoffing in disbelief as you recall your ex’s words that cut a little deeper than you wanted to admit. “I assume you know what a breeding kink is, right?”
Johnny’s cheeks flood with a pink hue and you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact he’s surprised the words came out of your mouth. “I, uh, not from experience but I’ve heard of it, sure.”
“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of having children of my own, but under the right circumstances the idea of breeding is kinda hot — the possessiveness, the dirty talk, the creampie. Anyway, the idea of stopping my birth control was brought up so he could start a family. I told him I like the act but don’t actually want kids but he told me I was crazy to have the kink and not actually pull through with it.”
Johnny’s expression is unreadable when he looks at you. For a second, you think you've shared too much but he nods, intently listening to your words.
“His pressure to let him come inside me without protection started to annoy me, so I just took sex off the table. I guess it took him 3 months of no sex to finally end it.”
“Wait,” Johnny huffs in disbelief, “he got to come inside of you and still had complaints?” Johnny runs his palm over his face in slight frustration, shaking his head. “This guy is a fucking idiot. Listen, if that had been me—” A low whistle leaves his perfectly shaped lips while he hungrily eyes you up and down. “I’d shut up. Actually, I’d let you do anything you want to me. Might even thank you if I did.”
You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous comment. Playfully pushing his shoulder, you earn a giggle and smirk from him.
Johnny is too charming for your own good — something you know you shouldn’t fall for; something that has ‘player’ written all over it. But you ignore what you know you’re supposed to do because who says you can’t hook up with a handsome stranger you met at a bar that you probably won’t ever see again?
“So,” Johnny quietly interjects your thoughts, holding your hand in his. “Let’s say you did have me for a night, what would you want me to do?”
You pause, tilting your head before your lips curved into a sly smile. “I’ve been in a shitty relationship for a year with a shitty guy who didn’t know how to fuck me properly.” You lean in and he meets you halfway. With your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, his skin begins to prickle with anticipation. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
He hums a laugh that’s filled with mischief and lust. “My room or yours?” His lips part slightly, hand sliding up and down the side of your thigh.”
“Yours.”
— Room 1409.
“After you.” Johnny smiles, holding his hotel room door open and gesturing to you to step in.
You sharply inhale, slightly nervous about hooking up with a stranger after so long. Your hold tightens around the straps of your handbag before you step into the air conditioned room. You catch your reflection at the full-length mirror near the closet and you take a quick look at yourself — there’s a sheen in your eyes from the alcohol, but to your surprise your hair and makeup are still intact.
“Beautiful, aren’t you?” Johnny whispers, palms sliding over the front of your dark green satin dress wrapped around your torso when his reflection appears behind you. With a swift movement, he twists your body to face him.
You let out a giggle when you nearly trip on your heels. “You’re a real smooth talker, Johnny.”
“It’s easy when everything I say is true.”
His warm palm slides against the side of your neck before his fingers cups your nape. As his thumb brushes your bottom lip, your heart stutters and slow, shallow breaths begin to slip from between your lips. His thumb slides down your chin before settling just under your jaw, hand loosely wrapped around your neck, but tight enough to make you melt under his touch. When your lower back meets the nearest console table, his hips press into yours and your fingers curl around his black button up, silently begging him to come closer.
The second his lips weave with yours, your knees begin to quiver. The tang of alcohol is prominent, but you don’t mind. Not when his hand grips tighter around your throat making you whimper against his lips.
It’s intoxicating and possessive, like you were always his.
His large hands slide down your waist and squeeze your hips just enough to smoothly lift you until you’re sitting on the wooden console’s table top. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw all while his hands roam under your dress, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and slides it down your thighs before slipping the thin fabric in back pockets of his dress pants.
Kissing down your throat, he begins sucking hard enough to leave proof of this night. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls your skin taut to leave a deeper discolored bruise, then another, and another. Pushing your dress up and over your head, he trails down your chest to leave a badge of claim between your cleavage and when he drops to his knees, he kisses down your sternum and your hips.
The anticipation is agonizing, yet it’s the most intense and satisfying feeling you’ve felt in a while. It’s slow, deliberate, but purposeful like Johnny can hear the way your heart pounds against your chest; like he enjoys the way you’re trembling just by grazing his lips over your skin.
Johnny lifts your leg over his broad shoulder while his other hand pushes against your other thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. Tilting your hips, he buries himself between you — licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
You don’t realize the way you’re holding your breath, already feeling light headed as you watch him drag his lips closer and closer to your core. Your eyes flick to the mirror behind him and a spark in the pit of your stomach ignites all while excitement pools between your folds.
When Johnny flattens his tongue and glides it over your slit, your mouth slacks open from pleasure. Your fingers comb through his hair as you throw your head back, resting it on the wall behind you.
His name stutters from your mouth, fingers tugging on his now messy and disheveled hair. He swirls the tip of his tongue over your clit and his saliva slides down, mixing with your slick. The pads of his fingers dig into your inner thighs, burying his face deeper into you and wrapping his lips around your drenched pussy, gliding his tongue up and down all while his gaze never shifts from your reaction.
It’s embarrassing, really, how close you are. Heat pools in your lower back and soon travels up your spine and neck before it floods your face entirely. Your chest heaves up and down, already feeling dizzy from the intensity that’s building faster than you can keep up with.
But that certainly doesn’t stop your hips from moving against Johnny when the tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, selfishly chasing the high that’s so close, you can barely hold on. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling your sultry moans that made Johnny harden under his dress pants. Unsatisfied, Johnny tugs on your wrist and pins it to your abdomen while your free hand grips the edge of the table beneath you.
You don’t give Johnny a warning except for a string of curses that you’ve intertwined between whimpers. Your velvety walls clench tightly, and so do your thighs, as the coil in your lower abdomen snaps. Your body twitches when his tongue runs over your throbbing clit — sucking and gently rolling over it until you’re helplessly trembling from the stimulation.
Johnny smirks against you, then tenderly pecks kisses against your soaked core. When he rises he immediately cups your cheeks, but you’re the one who lunges towards him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle, allowing your fingers to hastily undo his leather belt before tucking your hand into his dress pants.
You grin against Johnny’s lips when you feel his long, thick member hidden behind the fabric wrapped around his waist. Dragging your thumb over his leaking tip, Johnny quietly groans before his middle finger rolls over your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips twitch against him.
His middle finger slides into you with ease, your slick coating his entire finger. When he curls his fingertips, it brushes past your sweet spot and makes your walls involuntarily clench around his digit. Your fist tightens around his shaft, jerking it up and down to mirror the way his finger slides in and out of your soaked cunt.
“This pretty cunt can take one more, right?” Johnny whispers against your lips as the tip of his ring finger probes your entrance, easing its way through your opening and filling your space to its brim.
You eagerly nod, colliding your lips with his. The sting of the stretch soon melts into pleasure, letting you focus on the feeling of pleasure you couldn’t even fulfill on your own.
Your moans turn into shallow bursts of breathless air, chest rising up and down as his rough palm rubs slaps against your aroused clit. The rhythmic movement inches you closer to another burst of pleasure that makes you insatiable.
Your lips part in a silent cry. Your leg mindlessly wraps around Johnny’s waist, hips grinding against his palm, and nails scratching the fabric over his deltoids. His head drops to your shoulder when he feels your gummy walls pulse around his fingers and his breath warms your bare shoulder with a cocky huff of laughter.
“F-fuck me,” you beg, hastily push down the waistband of his underwear and dress pants.
His cock springs up and blood rushes to his shaft, his veins protruding against his skin, and his darkened tip leaking with his thick and clear precum. His large hand guides his tip to your entrance and pushes into you. You already feel the way your body has to adjust to his size when he slowly pops his tip in and out over and over again until every inch is swallowed by your needy little cunt.
Your fingers frantically search for the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing the top two buttons before Johnny impatiently pulls the fabric apart — buttons becoming undone as it rips from the threading and falls onto the floor.
The way your palms slide up his chest and across his shoulders to push the fabric of his shirt off sends jolts down his spine and straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. When he allows his shirt to slide off his arms and fall to the floor, he hooks his arms behind your knees then presses his palms against the top of the table console before breaking you open ensuring he’s flesh to flesh with you with every hard thrust. Your breath hitches when he slowly but harshly rocks his hips back and forth until your moans are fucked right out of you. The edge of the table bangs against the wall behind you in a rhythmic pattern to match Johnny’s deep and hungry jerk of his hips.
With every rut, he dives deeper into you — nothing but his tip sweetly kissing your cervix in the compromised angle he has you in. Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him closer and catch a glimpse of the reflection of the mirror. The way his back muscles flex with every slam of his hips makes you pant into his ear, which does nothing but gives him permission to fuck you until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you’re barely forming coherent sentences.
Your fingers manage to tug his hair, tilting his head back before gripping his jaw and forcing his focus to shift from his hips to the way your tongue rolls over his.
With a shaky exhale through his nose, he quickly pulls out of you and your legs fall suddenly without his support. He tugs on your forearm and swiftly manages to have his bare chest pressed against your back as he guides you to the bed.
“Bend over.” He commands through gritted teeth, already pushing down on your shoulders.
You don’t object. With your knees firmly planted into the plush mattress, Johnny’s thick tip pushes past your folds once more but this time your juices help glide inside of you as if he belongs there. A deep raspy groan leaves him when he bottoms out, your body jerking forward as he thrusts. His fingers tightly grip your ass for leverage just before he mercilessly ruts into you. His bare chest presses against your back, heat building between your bodies. His soft grunts fill your ears as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, causing your nails to dig into the sheets before burying your face in them.
Johnny chuckles devilishly, gripping your elbows with both hands and pulling you back until the top half of your body is suspended over the sheets. Snaking a hand down your torso and tucking itself between your thighs, he easily finds your sensitive nub between your folds, circling it delicately. “You’re not hiding that pretty face from me.”
You’re not sure how many times you’ve reached ecstasy with the way you’re being thrown in positions you thought you were too rigid to be in. Your body trembles, but you happily push past it with the way Johnny eagerly fulfills your request: to show you what you’ve been missing out on.
Johnny knew when to slow it down, giving your body the most tender kisses and admiration it rightfully deserved. But he also knew when your body craved for more — and more, and more — until you’re tearing from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation that blurred pain and pleasure seamlessly.
And you enjoy every second of it.
As you lay there, limp and exhausted, a satisfied grin is painted on your face as his seed leaks out of you. Johnny’s plastered beside you, proud and confident as ever. You cuddle into him, feeling his chest rise and fall — clearly still reeling from the dopamine rush that came with spending the night with you.
“I haven’t felt this amazing in years.” You sigh, fingertips gently running up and down the crevices of his abdomen.
“Glad to be of service tonight.” Johnny chuckles as his lips brush against your forehead. “Glad your ex fucked up the way he did.”
“Loser behavior, I guess.” You happily sigh. “Though, I do wish I could see the look on his face if he ever saw your cum dripping out of me. He hated the idea of my other exes doing it. Imagine how pissed he’d be that I let a stranger do it.”
“Why don’t we find out?”
Your head shoots up, looking at him in confusion. “What?” You awkwardly laugh. “What are we gonna do? Invite him here to see this?”
“Not quite.”
Johnny swings his legs off the side of bed and fishes for his phone from the pocket of his pants. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, he parts your thighs and it’s astonishing how quickly you comply. Lifting his phone in view, you quickly catch on to what he has planned. He presses the big red button to film between your thighs, fingers sliding his seed into you. When he lifts his coated middle finger to your lips, he ensures the camera only catches the lower half of your face, as you gladly suck on his digit until he ends the recording.
“What’s your ex’s number?” Johnny questions as the pads of his fingers patiently wait for your reply.
You repeat the number that you’ve unfortunately memorized by heart and watch him type it into his phone. “Won’t he just have your number if you send him the video?”
“It’s a good thing I’m changing it when I get back home.” Johnny smiles as he lays next to you. He hovers his phone, ensuring you can also see the screen and what he’s typing.
Thanks for leaving her, loser. Never would’ve met her at the bar if it weren’t for you. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. I’ll just breed her until the only name she knows is mine.
The swoosh sound on iMessage is heard and the delivered notification pops up under Johnny’s message. He silences his phone and tosses it to the side.
You giggle, swinging your leg over him before straddling his lower abdomen. With his palms sliding across the sides of your hips, he grabs a handful of your pillowy rear — your skin spilling between his fingers before his tip slides into you again, lifting his hips and sinking into you until you’re stuffed full. Pressing your lips to his jaw, you trail soft kisses until you reach just below his earlobe.
“You should keep your promise. Unless…” you tease between kisses, “you’re all bark and no bite?”
Both you and Johnny miss the flurry of angry texts flooding Johnny’s phone, but neither of you care; not when you’re being shown pleasure in ways you could never imagine until the break of dawn.
❁❁❁❁❁
Who tf is this?
Fucking answer me you little shit!
[10 missed calls]
You’re a little bitch. ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.
[6 missed calls]
When I find you I swear to god I’ll beat your ass
[4 missed calls]
I hope you get a fucking STD
❁❁❁❁❁
Your internal clock and the sun beaming into the room from the balcony wakes you from your sleep. There’s a delicious ache between your thighs and it takes you a second to process your surroundings, until you’re made aware of the arm that slides across your bare torso and effortlessly pulls you closer to his heated body.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of sneaking away before saying goodbye.” Johnny chuckles — soft, tired, and raspy. Nuzzling the tip of his nose into your shoulder, a gentle kiss adorns your skin.
“I was gonna leave a note.” You playfully counter as your fingers mindlessly rake through his thick and messy hair. “But now that you’re awake, guess I can tell you that I should probably head out to let you pack for your flight back home.”
Johnny groans, lifting his head to see the pieces of clothing haphazardly thrown around the room along with his suitcase wide open with used clothes piled on each other.
“Thank you for last night, John.” You quietly let out, hand gently pressed against his cheek to carefully guide his gaze back to you. “I really appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Placing a quick kiss to your cheek, you take that as your cue to get ready to leave. His eyes watch your movements intently as you slip on your dress from last night and search for your underwear amongst the pile of clothes.
“Where’d you put my underwear?”
A tiny snicker leaves his lips before a smug expression washes over him as he leans back into the headboard. When you look at him, he gives you a tiny and innocent shrug. “Maybe if you stay while I pack, it’ll show up.”
You roll your eyes, jaw slacking open with a tiny grin. Your eyes flick to his white long sleeve shirt he wore last night and you swipe it into your hand before wrapping it up around your waist.
“You can keep that and I’ll take this as a memento.” You giggle, making your way to his side of the bed. “Remember, it’s silk. Don’t make the mistake of throwing it in the washer. Hand wash, only.”
Cupping the sides of his face and tilting it in your direction, you place a kiss on his forehead — his eyes fluttering shut at the softness of your lips while his arm wraps around your waist.
“Have a safe flight home.”
Johnny chuckles softly, his arm pulling you in effortlessly and your knees press into the side of the mattress. “You know…I’m a fast packer.”
“Yeah?” You giggle. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“One more time for old times’ sake? I’ll let you be on top this time.”
Letting out a hum and pretending to contemplate the tempting idea, you gently brush your thumbs over the space just below his eyes before a kiss presses onto his lips.
“Let’s have fate decide when we do this again.” You whisper in the space between your lips. “In the meantime, I have a meeting to prep for and you have luggage that needs to be packed. Not to mention, a flight you need to catch.”
Johnny sighs in defeat, then a beat of silence follows before speaking again. “That’s fair.”
Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, Johnny gives your skin a quick peck then brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. Cupping your face with a gentle touch, he pulls you in for a kiss — one of gratitude and farewell all wrapped in the slow movements of his lips.
When you pull away, your forehead presses against his while you catch your breath.
“Take care, Johnny.” You finally let out, pulling away as he playfully tugs on your fingers.
When you finally get enough distance, your hand drops to your side and Johnny’s arm drops onto the sheets covering his bare lower half. Giving him a final wave goodbye, you grab your belongings and head out into the hallway, feeling renewed. Like a night away from your usual strict routine made you genuinely happy — something you haven’t felt in a very long time.
❁❁❁❁❁
Sorry, too busy fucking her dumb to get back to you.
She feels waaay too good to only go one round…or two…or three…
Also thought you should know Y/N says thanks, you helped her realize how bad you are at sex.
And the name’s Johnny, bitch.
[this contact has been blocked]
— A New Place & A Reintroduction.
“So…” Mina sheepishly rocks back and forth on her heel, the wind whipping through her thick dark hair. Her fingers grip the handles of her handbag, the leather fabric tapping against her knees as you two wait near the front entrance of the high rise building you’ll be working in for the next year.
“So…” you repeat suspiciously, waiting for Mina to stop beating around the bush and ask you what’s on her mind.
“That hook up…” she finally lets out, quickly scanning your features for any reaction that would somehow tell her who it was with.
“Mina.” You sternly reply, giving her a look as if to tell her to keep your personal business far from your professional life. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” she whines, childishly stopping her feet. “One minute I’m thinking you’re getting proposed to at dinner and the next you tell me you’re single and hooked up with a stranger.”
You sigh, already regretting telling her about your night of fun while waiting at the gate for your flight a week ago. It’s clear to you that this has been stewing in the crevices of Mina’s brain, too scared to ask more details knowing how privileged she is to even hear that you hooked up with someone.
“It’s like something possessed you. It doesn’t sound like you at all:” She quietly comments, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I love it, I’m just surprised. Do you know his name at least?”
Before you could reply, an older man waves and catches your attention. It takes you a second to realize it’s the manager you’ve been in contact with for the past few months — Mr. Choi. He appears with an all too excited grin on his face, already telling you he’s more than excited for this partnership between your home company and the one you’re temporarily transferred to.
“It’s nice to see the both of you again! Come on in, I’ll show you around.” He smiles, leading you towards the bright lobby of elevators. “I’m sorry to hear about the delay in furniture deliveries for the two of you. I’m hoping the hotel suffices until then.”
“Oh it does!” Mina interjects happily, enjoying the room service at the expense of the company account. “This is by far the best hotel we’ve been in and, trust me, we’ve been in a lot.”
A deep chuckle rumbles in Mr. Choi’s chest, arm extending out between the elevator doors as it opens then gesturing for the two of you to step into the cramped metal box.
“We take up the top two floors. Beautiful view over the city, I should add.” Mr. Choi says, sounding a lot like a real estate agent than anything else at the moment. “Our floor is split in two, the east wing—” Mr. Choi looks at you. “Is where you’ll be. The west wing—” Mr. Choi looks at Mina. “That’s where you’ll be.”
When the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the floor to ceiling windows providing natural lighting that spills through the central lobby. To the right of you, you’re met with the two receptions who stand upon seeing their manager.
“Good morning, Mr. Choi.” They greet in unison before their eyes flick towards you and Mina.
Your sights fall towards their lanyard and the identification card that is used to enter the many doors of the building.
“Chenle, Jisung,” Mr. Choi greets, straightening his posture. “I’d like you to meet the newest members of our team — Miss Y/N and Miss Mina.”
“It’s nice to meet you, welcome to the team!” Chenle says, clasping his hands together. “Let us know if we can do anything to make the transition smoother.” The younger man next to him simply smiles and nods before excusing himself when the phone rings, pulling his attention there instead.
You and Mina give the two younger men a warm smile and a nod, but your verbal appreciation is cut short when you’re gestured towards the west wing by Mr. Choi, who immediately begins spewing out the renovation plan to improve the floor even more.
As you’re swept away, you quickly turn your head to let out a quick thank you to the two men you just met. As you do, you catch a glimpse of disdain on Chenle’s face who seems to be burning a hole in the back of Mr. Choi before Jisung playfully punches his bicep to get him back into work.
Just past the restrooms, you see the heavy glass doors at the end of the hallway open up. A man with dark rimmed glasses, a white button up shirt, and dark slacks with his hair perfectly parted into a three-fourths part walks out, his gaze focused on the iPad he’s holding.
“Ah, Doyoung!” Mr. Choi loudly greets, starling the man who stops in his tracks.
The man, you now know as Doyoung, mutters something under his breath before gripping the tablet in his hand and pushing the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Meeting him halfway down the hall, Mr. Choi introduces you and Mina.
“Miss Mina, Doyoung is the person who is going to show you the ins and outs of the west wing.” Mr. Choi informs, watching Mina firmly shake the hand Doyoung extended.
“Can’t wait!” Mina says enthusiastically.
“C’mon,” Doyoung quietly says, tilting his head towards the glass doors. “I’ll show you to your office. It’s right next to mine.”
“And Doyoung,” Mr. Choi interjects. “Introduce her to the rest of the team and catch her up, will you?”
You watch Doyoung sharply inhale. His posture fully straightens before a tight lipped smile forms on his lips.
“I will.”
You watch as your friend disappears behind the foggy glass doors and you’re now left alone with Mr. Choi, analyzing the way his eyes burn intimidatingly while he watches the glass door come to a full close. When he looks at you, they drastically soften and the playful demeanor he’s always presented to you reappears.
“Let me show you to your office.” He nods and the two of you backtrack, passing the central lobby and towards the east wing. Walking past conference room one and two, that’s directly across from each other, you’re guided to a vacant office room that’s filled with sleek, minimal furniture and painted with boring white walls that you’re able to see that’s not covered windows.
“You’re right, the view is great.” You let out, making your way towards the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city below you.
“It’s the best!” Mr. Choi says proudly, as if he’s the one who made it that way. “Across the hall is one of our best employees, but don’t tell him that. He can get a little cocky. He’ll be your point of contact to help you adjust, though he’ll be reporting to you.”
You look out the wide picture window that gives you the perfect view inside the unoccupied office across from yours. The same furniture you have is rearranged into a logical design you learned would be efficient for productivity. On the desk, a stack of Manila folders balanced next to his office phone and a notepad with a few bullet points scribbled on the top of the white lined sheet.
“If he’s the best like you say he is, I’d say the confidence is well deserved, no?”
Mr. Choi chuckles, watching as a disarming smile stretches across your face. “A little humbling would do him good, but I suppose you’re right.” An awkward beat of silence follows before he speaks. “Let me show you the break room.”
You follow Mr. Choi down the hall and enter the large break room with a few lounge chairs and counters filled with a variety of drinks and snacks for anyone’s enjoyment.
“Didn’t expect everyone to be in here.” Mr. Choi said sternly, scanning the room filled with employees who shamefully looked down at the floor beneath them.
The contrast of the chattering then and the dead silence now is stark. You watch as some employees uncomfortably shift from one foot to another while others finish up making their morning coffee. Then Mr. Choi clears his throat, adjusts his posture to his full height and crosses his hands against the small of his back.
“I’d like you all to meet the newest member of our team, Miss Y/N.”
Their sights land on you all at once making you feel uncomfortable beyond comparison. You manage to give them a small wave and they mirror your movements, a quiet wave of ‘hi’ and ‘hellos’ filling the space. The tension is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
“Looking forward to working with you all,” you smile, quickly pulling yourself together — straightening your posture, lowering your hands to your sides, and taking a half step forward.
Mr. Choi takes a full step forward, now placing you slightly behind him. “I’m sure you all have work to start on, right?” He says, an edge to his voice to grab any semblance of power in front of you.
With another step forward, you’re now next to Mr. Choi. The uncomfortable look on the employees face is prominent, making you realize Mr. Choi is purposefully ignoring it.
“I’m sure they’re fueling for the day ahead.” You interject, looking at Mr. Choi dead in the eyes, something you’ve learned from your years in this career. “Don’t we all need a little moment to ourselves and a nice cup of coffee before diving into piles of work?”
You flash Mr. Choi another placating smile with your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder for a second before retracting it next to your side.
“I mean, I know I do.” You chuckle, looking at the rest of the employees. They quickly catch on to your point and each one of them gives an agreeable head nod.
“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. Choi quickly agrees, palm of his hand rubbing the back of his flushed neck. “Again.” He quietly chuckles, sliding his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
Mina appears beside you and so does Doyoung, hand still holding the iPad but this time, glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his collared shirt. Doyoung does his part in introducing Mina who, like always, greets with the utmost enthusiasm.
Mr. Choi’s phone rings, excusing himself to the corner of the room as he takes the call. You take this opportunity to get the names of some of the employees to begin building rapport with them after the awkward initial meeting.
From the corner of your eye, you watch the way Mr. Choi snaps his fingers to catch Doyoung’s attention, his phone still pressed to his ear. He whispers something into the young employee's ear and you know it’s about you when Doyoung’s eyes lock onto yours. Then just like that, the older manager disappears out of the break room and into a conference room for more privacy to pace back and forth.
With a small wave goodbye, the employees disappear into a bigger room filled with cubicles separating them into smaller spaces. Doyoung follows suit, making his way out the door before you stop him.
“Uh, Doyoung—” you call out, stepping towards him. “Can I speak with you…in my office?”
Surprised with your request, he nods hesitantly before both him and Mina follow you. Closing the door, Mina leans against your desk while cranning her neck to take in the boring look of your new space. Doyoung stands in the middle of the room, patiently waiting.
“What’s the deal with the tension between everyone and Mr. Choi?” You blatantly ask, catching the employee in front of you by surprise.
Lifting his hand to the back of his neck, he gently scratches his prickling scalp. His mouth falls open, only to close again.
“Tension?” Mina squeaks, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s tension?”
Doyoung sighs, balancing his iPad on the arm rest of a nearby sofa. “He’s fairly new.” Doyoung begins to explain. “And utterly incompetent at doing his job. A lot of us feel that he’s on a constant power trip and it doesn’t help when he belittles anyone that isn’t a specialist, analyst, or consultant.”
“How’d he get the job?” Mina questions, reading your mind and saving you from asking the question yourself.
“Connections.” There’s an edge of annoyance in his tone. “Apparently, he’s friends with the founder. Though, I highly doubt the founder knows how shitty Mr. Choi—”
The two loud knocks on your office door startle the three of you before the door swings open and you see the subject of your conversation step through the door frame. Behind him stood a 6 foot 3 man with his dark locks slicked back and a killer smirk lifted from the corner of his mouth, lowering his disposable coffee cup from his lips when he locked with your gaze.
“John, this is Miss Y/N.” Mr. Choi introduces, stepping forward and causing Doyoung to step back, settling himself next to his point of contact that’s now lingering by the window and snapping photos of the view. “Miss Y/N, this is John Suh. He’ll be working with you to ensure you’re acclimated to the new environment. He’ll assist you in whatever you need and will be reporting to you as well.”
Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. A knot tightens in the pit of your stomach, anxiety rising when you remember the night you shared — expect now he’s not just a handsome stranger you met at a bar, he’s your co-worker; one you’ll be working closely with for the next year.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny interjects with a smile, feigning obliviousness and giving you a firm handshake like the one he gave the night you met.
“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.” You nod. “I heard you’re the best guy here. I have nothing but high expectations.”
Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, fingers holding his coffee cup by its rim. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“Good.” You clear your throat, your hands clasping together just below your belly button. “We should probably catch up on the recent projects coming up.”
“We should do the same,” Mina says as she points her finger between the space separating herself and Doyoung. “Walk me through the campaigns and I’d like to see data—”
Mr. Choi chuckles — an unamused laugh that makes a knot twist in your stomach. You didn’t like the way his hand wiped over his mouth or the way he shook his head slightly as he scratched over the stubble he didn’t shave before coming to work.
“What’s funny?” You question, cocking your head to the side in confusion. You look over at Doyoung and take a sharp inhale, bracing himself for the comment the manager is about to make.
“I can’t help but think we’re overestimating the value of our creative department.” Mr. Choi says ignorantly with a dismissive shrug to his shoulders. “I mean, anyone with a smartphone can upload a post to social media.”
Your blood boils, heat rushing to your cheeks and a slight ringing in your ear. Between the surprised look on Mina’s face, the second hand embarrassment in Doyoung’s, and Johnny's tense expression written all over his face, you can’t not say something.
“But what do I know right?” Mr. Choi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and an oblivious laugh leaving his lips.
Johnny steps forward to defend Doyoung’s team, something he’s done countless times before, knowing Doyoung won’t ruffle feathers with a man as ignorant as Mr. Choi.
But you speak before he can.
“Sir, I hope you’re not insinuating our creative team doesn’t provide an essential role to this company?” You let out, voice calm and steady. “I’d hate to see when a poorly thought out campaign or a post highlighting a failed strategy goes viral. It wouldn’t reflect well on the company or the founder, would it?”
The mere mention of the founder turns Mr. Choi’s face pale, letting your words sink in before uncomfortably clearing his throat. Your eyes lock with his, refusing to be the first person to look away. Mr. Choi feels the tension, beads of sweat forming on the nape of his neck before looking down; your comment about the founder rattling him more than anything.
“You’re right.” He manages to let out, rolling his shoulders back in a lame attempt to recoup. “I will let the four of you get back to work. Please let me know if you need anything.”
And just like that, with no apology, Mr. Choi turns on his heels and walks out of your office and straight to the elevators.
“Well that was fucking rude,” Mina huffs. “What kind of manager says that about any department?”
“An incompetent one.” Johnny scoffs, then quickly apologizing on Mr. Choi’s behalf. “We learned to ignore a lot of his comments. I’m sorry you had to see that first hand.”
“And so soon.” Doyoung adds, his eyes still glued in the direction of your office door.
“Just ignore him,” Johnny breathes, shoulders finally relaxing as he turns to you, then to Mina. “We have a solid team and despite us not listening to him or anything he says, we don’t get reprimanded harshly when we actually do our job well and the higher ups are happy with the results.”
“This is gonna be a shitshow.” Mina exhales, then turns to you with her hand on your shoulder and a playful grin stretched across her face. “Good luck, you’re gonna need it more than me.” When she turns to her point of contact, she pulls him towards the door by his bicep. “C’mon Doyoung! We have a lot to go over.”
And just like that, you’re alone with Johnny. Thick silence fills the room and a prickling under your skin makes you shift on your feet.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Johnny arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as he lifts his disposable cup to his lips. “How’ve you been?”
“Great.” You nod, quickly clearing your throat. “So about those upcoming projects—”
“You go straight to business, don’t you?” Johnny chuckles, dropping a seat on the arm rest of a nearby couch. “I remember you being… less serious than this.” He pauses, crossing his wrists over each other as it languidly rests against his thigh. “In fact, I remember you being more relaxed than anything else. So relaxed, you could barely open your eyes when my tongue—”
The palm of your hand flies over his mouth, pressing your skin against his soft and plump lips and nearly knocking the coffee cup from his hand. With a quiet shush, you slowly retract your hand and shut your office door before closing the blinds that look into the hallway.
“Listen, John.” You sigh, forehead pressed against the frame of your door before you turn to look at him. “Whatever happened between us stays between us and in the past.”
Johnny cocks his head, listening intently to your words.
“From this point, everything is strictly professional. No more flirtatious looks or those little smirks. None of that.”
Johnny can only chuckle. Not dismissively, but amused. The tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth. Setting his nearly empty cup on the coffee table, he stands to his full height, towering over you.
Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing the words you meant to say.
“You’re sure?” Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he takes a few steps toward you and traps you between his frame and the door you just backed into.
You simply nod, slow and unsure, but you hoped Johnny didn’t notice the presence of hesitation. His gaze swipes over your blown out pupils staring back at him before dropping to the untucked collar of your dress shirt. His long fingers gently adjust the fabric and your breathing halts, almost afraid any type of movement would silently tell him about the fire ignited in the pit of your stomach and the tingle between your thighs.
When he pulls away, he grabs his coffee cup by its rim and simply flashes you a charming, easy going grin.
“I’ll follow your lead, boss.” He nods once, then goes quiet for a beat too long before clearing his throat. “Do you, maybe, wanna get out of the way so I can show you those reports?”
Heat from embarrassment prickles your underarms, your senses suddenly feeling heightened as you pathetically regain the confidence to finally move out of the way and open the door behind you. The whiff of newly brewed coffee whips through you, the smell going unnoticed until now. The typing of keyboard keys and the playful banter between the two receptionists suddenly feel louder, but don't drown out the heartbeat you hear pounding against your chest.
Johnny snakes from behind you, unlocking his own door. Lavender scent hits you by surprise as you step in; the mist from a nearby diffuser spritzing in a calculated pattern. You watch as Johnny moves behind his desk, fingers working fast to bring up the most recent reports. He glances at you, then pauses his movements.
“You know you’re really awkward for someone who wants to move past our night of fun.” Johnny chuckles. “If you don’t want anyone to suspect anything, don’t be suspicious.”
“This is new to me.” You admit, dropping your arms to your side.
“This position or what happened between us?”
You roll your eyes and a tiny smirk threatening to make its way onto your face. “Working with someone I previously hooked up with.” You quietly say, moving behind his desk to see his computer screen.
He nods, eyes falling back onto the electronic files. “I was worried for a second that you didn’t know how to do your job.”
“I do it very well, thank you very much.”
“So I’ve heard.” Johnny remarks, opening up the files most relevant to this quarter. He looks up at you and you catch a glint in his eyes as a strand of your hair falls before you quickly swipe it away — Johnny being completely enamored by your presence before he could stop himself.
“John.” You softly call out. “The reports, please.”
“Huh?”
You shyly smile, your thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks before gently turning his attention back to his computer screen. “The reports, Johnny. Walk me through them, please.” Slowly retracting your hand away from his cheeks, you watch a wide grin spread across his face.
“You got it, boss.”
— A Note & A Future Lunch Date.
Two months into acclimating to the new company and your new partner, you realize a few things: Mr. Choi is absolutely not fit for his managerial position, Mina has been on a personal mission to get Doyoung out of his introverted shell and stand up to anyone who downplays his intelligence, and Johnny is incredible at his job — so incredible, you’re wondering why he isn’t in the manager’s position himself.
In fact, you find yourself thinking about Johnny a lot — a lot for someone who wants to leave the hook up in the past. The way he tilts his head and holds eye contact when he’s listening to someone speak, how his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek right before his thumb brushes his bottom lip when he’s focused on the task at hand. And the way his fingers curl around—
“Any questions for us?” Johnny’s voice sears right through your thoughts and pulls you right back next to him in the boardroom with pairs of wide eyes staring at the two of you.
“Yes.” The lanky old man that Johnny nicknamed Mr. Cautious speaks up, shifting in his seat as he stares at the color-coded line graph behind you. Using his pen to point behind you, you and Johnny slightly turn in the direction he’s pointing in. “How are you two confident your sales are projected to increase? I mean, not too long ago, this company barely had revenue coming in a few months ago.”
“Rest assured that our predictions are based on the upward trend we’ve been seeing in the most recent weeks. New strategies, more effective and efficient I may add, have increased our numbers drastically and immediately.” You share, taking pride in the strategic plan you and Mina helped implement since arriving — no thanks to Mr. Choi who insisted on keeping the mess of a strategy already set in place until you kindly reminded him the reason behind your transfer.
“I get that, but—” Mr. Cautious interjects, hesitation written all over his face.
“I understand the risk you’re taking.” You reassure, now understanding the reason behind Johnny’s nickname for the man in front of you.
“If I may add,” Johnny interjects, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks and straightening to his full height. He glances over your way before looking straight at Mr. Cautious. “The company Y/N is transferring from has one of, if not the best, business strategies that we've seen in years — the same strategy we’ve adopted just recently and the numbers don’t lie. You can choose now or you can choose to wait, but I fear waiting won’t have much benefit to it.”
“Though I’m sure you already know that, sir.” You flash a charming smile, before glancing over at Johnny who follows your lead and plasters a grin on his face. “You’ll find standard contracts in the folders as well.”
In unison, those in front of you pull out the contract and look it over before signing away. A knock on the conference room door pulls your attention before Mina’s head pops in just in time for her and Doyoung’s time slot with the group. Johnny quickly collects the contracts before you both quickly grab your belongings, say your goodbyes with the crowd in front of you, and head out into the hallway.
“All contracts accounted for.” Johnny smiles proudly. “Even from Mr. Cautious himself.” He lifts his fist to give you a fist bump and you reciprocate, a little ritual you two have when you both have a successful day. “I’m going out for lunch, do you wanna join me?”
“I’m okay. I was planning to use my lunch break to catch up on my sleep.” Cupping your cheeks with the palms to warm your cold hands, you turn to glance at the surprisingly comfortable couch in your office.
“I’m gonna guess you spent the night working.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head like a disappointed father.
“You guessed right.” You giggle. “But before you go, I wanna thank you for having my back in there. It’s nice to know I have someone I can rely on.”
Johnny smiles, endearingly stroking the back of your head. “We’re a team, you don’t have to thank me.”
”Sure, but I think it’s still worth noting.” You gently squeeze his arm. “Even if Mr. Choi refuses to admit it to your face, you’re amazing.”
“Well, since we’re dishing out compliments,” Johnny steps forward and leans towards your ear. “I’m glad you're here. You make coming to work worth it.”
You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide at Johnny’s words. “Enjoy your lunch John. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Johnny nods, watching you disappear into your office. You catch his eyes from your window and you give him a small wave before shutting the newly replaced blinds that blocked out the hallway lights. Situating yourself on your sofa, you can’t help but replay Johnny’s words in your head until you drift off to sleep.
❁❁❁❁❁
The alarm on your phone interrupts your sleep to let you know that you have 15 minutes left of your lunch break. Stretching your arms over your head, you stare at the blank ceiling to help yourself actively wake up before sitting up on your sofa.
To your surprise, you find a wrapped sandwich, an unopened bag of your favorite chips, a bottle of water, and a handwritten note from a memo pad you have on your desk is sitting undisturbed on the coffee table in front of you.
It’s your usual order. You need the energy :)
- Johnny
You make your way over to your blinds, opening it up and seeing Johnny sitting at his desk chewing on the end of his covered pen before his eyes meets yours. He gives you a small wave before grabbing his notepad and jotting something down then lifting it up for you to read.
Did you sleep well?
You quickly look behind you for the identical notepad and pen to write your response.
Yes, I did :) Thanks for the food, too.
I owe you a lunch date this week.
Holding up the notepad to the window, you watch the way Johnny’s eyes scan your writing and a genuine smile stretches across his face. Pressing his pen to the paper, he writes a quick response and lifts the notepad to his chest.
I’ll hold you to that :)
You quietly laugh to yourself, then nod at Johnny, silently agreeing to his words. Johnny gives you a wicked smirk accompanied by a wink before his attention turns to his ringing phone. You take that as your cue to quickly scarf down your lunch as you clear out your email’s inbox, ensuring to tuck Johnny’s note into your wallet for safe keeping.
— A Rainy Day.
Four months into transferring and the routine of your position is deeply rooted into your daily life. Rolling your neck, you briefly shut your eyes in an attempt to relieve the strain on your eyes from staring at your computer screen all day.
It’s one of those days you haven’t left your office — meeting with people virtually, ordering lunch through an app and one of the two receptions delivering it to you to get a second away from the ringing of their phones, staring out your window at at the pouring rain, and above all being isolated from the one person that effortlessly eased your work stress.
Johnny’s been cooped up in his office for the same reason you are — meeting with overseas partners and clients virtually. You’ve caught him a few times, pacing back and forth in his attempt to stimulate his brain to prevent him from falling asleep during boring small talk he doesn’t care about.
You try your best to refocus on the reports you have left to do before your work day ends. Your eyes gloss over yet another detailed and excruciating report, scanning for information that would be remotely beneficial to you at the moment.
When you finally come across a discrepancy, your body jolts to attention and you use this as an excuse to save both you and Johnny from another minute of boredom.
Your hand flies to your office phone’s receiver to call your partner in the room across from you. Two rings pass until Johnny’s voice is heard on the other line.
“Hey boss, finally caved in to admit you missed me today?” He jokingly says, leaning into the backrest of his chair and tucking an arm under the other.
“No, I—”
“Too lazy to walk in here yourself?” He quickly interjects, head flying up when he sees you through the hallway windows when you stand from your seat, giving him a look that feigns annoyance. In return, Johnny gives you a quick, playful wink as he holds the phone’s receiver to his ear.
“Or did you call to see if I missed you since I’ve been cooped up in this stupid office all day without my favorite person to keep me company. The answer is yes by the way, if you care.”
His words, admittedly, make your heart soar. Your lips break into a smile before you could stop it. “Then stretch those long legs of yours and make your way over here. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Something?” His brow quirks up and a little smirk lifts from the corner of his mouth. “Something delightful, I hope.”
“Not quite.” You hum and scrunch your nose, watching his lips fall into a frown as he hears your words. “It’s about the reports you sent me.”
“Uh oh, I’m not in trouble, am I?” His bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout, swiveling his chair side to side as he holds your gaze through the glass.
“You will be if you don’t make yourself useful and get over here.” You lift a finger and curl it, motioning him to ‘come here’ before ending the call.
Sauntering over, Johnny appears in your doorway within seconds. “Your insane attention to detail will be the death of me.” Johnny complains, making his way over to you. “What did I do wrong boss? And go easy on me, my ego is still recovering from the last time.”
“Oh please, last time only I pointed out your typos before sending it off to the execs and you acted as if I cursed your entire family.” You roll your eyes. “You’re being so dramatic. Anyway, lucky for you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a question about the drop in sales from here—” You point at your computer screen, your manicured nail pointing to the drop in numbers on the table in the report. “—to here and it keeps repeating every year. I’m not planning on having it repeat again, so do you have any idea what happened?”
Johnny makes his way behind you to get a better look at the screen. Bending forward, one hand presses on top of the wooden table top of your desk while the other rests on the top of your backrest. With his cheek so close it could brush yours, you could smell a whiff of his cologne — the same one from the night you first met him.
He hums and mumbles something quietly under his breath before the hand behind you goes over your shoulder and traps you between his body while he uses your mouse and keyboard to search through your inbox for reports Doyoung has sent the two of you.
You can’t help but watch his long fingers move as you’ve taken a liking to them after your rendezvous with him. Your gaze wanders up his arm, admiring the veins protruding against his skin until you glance up at his features — first his angled jaw, then his soft lips.
“What’re you looking at, boss?” Johnny grins, eyes still locked onto your screen. “Your wandering eyes are gonna get us both in trouble.” But from the way he’s blushing, it’s clear he’s enjoying your attention.
Biting the corner of your bottom lip, you refocus on the screen. “Just wondering why you’re so close to me.”
“It’s because you’re my favorite person,” Johnny smiles. “As for the reports, I’ll set up a meeting with Doyoung and Mina for tomorrow to see if we can remedy this dip in sales.”
“Thank you.” You whisper as you turn to him, his lips now inches away from yours.
You’re tempted to kiss him, feeling first hand depravity from not touching him for so long especially when that’s all you did that night. You’ve tried to deny the tension between you two; tried to ignore the flirtatious comments he made that you’ve engraved into your memory; tried to talk yourself out of using that night’s experience to help you pleasure yourself.
But you hold yourself back, again.
After all, he’s your co-worker and you know better than to mix business with pleasure.
“From what I remember, you have another meeting in ten minutes.” You softly let out, ultimately being the first one to pull away.
Johnny looks at the time on the top right of your computer screen and drops his head in disappointment. Pulling back, he straightens his posture and rubs his hands over his face.
“Can I stay here?” He pouts, the inner part of his brows curving upward and his eyes softening. “I can’t stand being in my office alone. It’s depressing.”
“Isn’t that inappropriate?” You tease, swiveling your chair side to side as you look up at Johnny. “I am your senior after all.”
Johnny huffs a chuckle, rolls his eyes, and pokes his tongue against his cheek. “God forbid I took a gap year after graduation to broaden my horizons.” He sarcastically retorts. “You only have seniority over me by one year. You have to feel bad — I’m going insane in my office. I need social interaction that isn’t online.”
“Fine!” You dramatically huff, waving your hand in the air. “You can sit at my desk while you have your meeting. I’ll make myself comfortable on the couch and read over—”
“Thank you!” He happily interjects, grabbing your hand and placing a dramatic kiss on the back of your hand. “You’re amazing.”
You can’t help but giggle, watching as he proudly makes his way out of your office to grab his laptop and other necessities for his meeting, though he ends up choosing to stay with you until the end of the work day.
Four months into transferring and you’ve gotten to see many sides of Johnny — all sides you find utterly charming and endearing; all sides that make your heart race and your mind rattle.
— Out of Town Bar & A Tucked Away Office.
You don’t notice when Johnny walks in.
His suit jacket slung over his arm and long sleeves of his white collared shirt pushed up to his elbows. He runs his fingers through his loosely styled hair that loosened through the day while a sealed pack of cookies are presented in front of you. You look up at the man that’s been on your mind more often than you’d ever admit — and, god, does he look ethereal when he gives you a tired lopsided grin.
“What’s this for?” You ask, picking up the sealed bag of cookies and examining it. “You know that sucking up to me isn’t gonna make me like you more.”
“You know you love me. I’m your life line here.” Johnny grins, taking a seat on one of the chairs placed in front of your desk. “A client gave it to me and I thought you’d like it when your sweet tooth kicks in during the day.”
“What’re you talking about? I don’t have a sweet tooth.”
“I catch you stealing sweets from the break room all the time.” Johnny giggles, resting his ankle just above his knee. “Did you know you walked into the break room five times in a span of seven minutes yesterday?”
“No…I did not.” You embarrassingly admit, biting your bottom lip before taking the cookies and rolling your office chair over to your mini fridge nearby to secure them for future use. “Thank you for the treat.”
“You’re welcome.” Johnny adjusts himself in his seat, lifting his hips slightly to lower himself just a bit.
“You don’t normally stay this late.” You ask, palm resting under your chin.
“Been keeping an eye on me?” Johnny smirks, fist gently pressing into his temple as his elbow is propped onto the chair’s arm rest. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”
“I care.” You quickly interject, looking down at how reckless your words came out. “Is everything okay?”
Johnny simply nods. “Why are you still here?” He questions, looking at the analog clock perched near the windows.
“I got a hot date with reports.” You reply bleakly, pointing your pen towards your computer screen. “I just need to finish a few things so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Do you have a lot to do?”
Leaning into your chair, you cross your arms and scan the to-do list you have written on a notepad. “Eager to help cut my work load in half, is that it?”
Johnny chuckles quietly, then shakes his head. “Eager to have drinks with you tonight actually.” His words are so brazen and matter of fact, it takes you by surprise; only allowing you to stutter out a response before recollecting yourself.
“No,” you chuckle, “we both know what happened the last time I had drinks with you.”
The fond memory flashes through your mind before you could stop it. The positions he had you in, the marks that remained as a remembrance a few weeks afterwards, and the intense pleasure you felt for hours you couldn’t replicate on your own.
“Plus, someone could see us.” You add, shoulders slumping when you feel a hint of disappointment in your chest.
Johnny sits up, straightening his back and extending his long legs outwards to cross an ankle over the other. “There’s this bar on the outskirts of the city that no one here goes to.”
You sharply inhale, still cautious about the offer.
“Colleagues have drinks with each other all the time, why can’t we be one of them?” He questions, tilting his head to the side and gaze dragging along your features, eyes softening as the milliseconds pass. “We’re friends. Friends have drinks with each other.”
The word echoes in your ears and you don’t expect the simple label to sting the way it did. Friends. The quick, harsh squeeze of your heart makes you sharply inhale before you’re able to play it off with a long exhale.
“You’ve worked hard since you started here and I’d like to treat you to a night out to—” Johnny pauses, buying himself time to find the words he needs to convince you to spend your Friday night with him. “—celebrate everything you’ve done.”
A tiny uninvited smile tugs at your mouth and Johnny notices it.
“Is that a yes?” He quietly teases. “Please let it be a yes.”
You surrender. “My place is nearby. We can leave our cars there and get an Uber to the bar.” You offer, giving into the temptation.
“Smart girl.” Johnny’s lips parted into a cheesy grin before jumping to his feet, rubbing the palm of his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it!”
❁❁❁❁❁
“How’d you find this place?” You ask. The thin long sleeves of your blouse cling to your arms as you cross them over your chest in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cool air.
“My friend Yuta owns it.” Johnny says proudly, hand resting on your mid back and ushering you towards the bar’s entrance.
“So you just have bartender friends all over the country?” You giggle, remember the handsome bartender who first introduced you to Johnny.
Johnny grins and causally shrugs. “What can I say? Making connections is my forte. I even have some out of the country, if you fancy taking a trip with me overseas.”
“Let’s get through tonight first before we start planning trips to other countries. For all you know, I could be trouble.”
“Oh I know you’re trouble.” Johnny gives you a knowing glance, standing in line at the entrance. “That certainly doesn’t deter me whatsoever.”
Playfully and gently shoving him, Johnny’s arm slings over your shoulders and pulls you close as you two walk into the establishment. Classic rock from the 80s, 90s, and 2000s plays in the background as the chattering of patrons suddenly fills your ears. Johnny leads you to an empty table, giving you the small laminated menu sitting among the napkin dispenser and the ketchup and mustard bottles.
As you scan the menu, a young man with dark shoulder length hair pulled back into a half up and down updo using hair sticks appears next to Johnny. With one hand cupping Johnny’s shoulder, the other lifts to give Johnny a familiar handshake.
“Hey John, haven’t seen you in a while.” The man glances over to you, giving you a friendly smile to show off his pearly white teeth. “Who’s your lady friend?”
“She’s my boss.” You catch a mischievous glint in his eye when he looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
Your eyes widen and your jaw drops immediately. “I-I’m not his boss. That would be so inappropriate.” You shake your head, palms facing outward and shaking mirroring the way you’re denying his accusations. Your face quickly heats up, the heat traveling down your entire body making your entire body prickle. “We just work together.”
Johnny’s friend laughs loudly. “I believe you, don’t worry. I’m Yuta.” Extending his hand out, you take it and give it a firm shake.
“Oh! You’re the owner.” You gleefully say, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. How do you know Johnny?”
Yuta scratches the back of his neck. “We slept together in college.” With his quick movements, he blocks Johnny’s punch to his shoulder, telling you they’ve done this many times before.
“You gotta stop telling everyone that.” Johnny shakes his head, pulling Yuta in a headlock. “Tell her the truth.”
Yuta flashes you a smile, hands gripping Johnny’s wrist. “We were roommates in college,” he laughs, “so technically what I said is true.” Yuta finally frees himself from Johnny’s grasp, strands of hair somehow falling perfectly to frame his face. “I had the top bunk and he got the bottom.”
“Huh,” you let out as you looked at Johnny, “I never took you as a bottom.”
“Alright, you two are done.” Johnny shakes his head, grabbing Yuta by his shoulders and turning him away.
“You should get the beer battered fish and chips. It’s our most popular dish!” Yuta shouts as he’s pushed away from the table and towards the bar.
“For the record I asked for the bottom bunk purely because I kept hitting my head when I sat up. I’m certainly not a bottom…” Johnny holds contact a little too long enough to catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or have you forgotten?”
Your eyes quickly and bashfully avert away from his gaze, locking onto the menu in your hand. “I think I’ll take the fish and chips, like Yuta recommended.” You let out, changing the subject. “With a beer.”
“Good choice. I’ll be right back.”
Johnny disappears into the crowd, though the top of his head sticks out and easy to spot makes you less worried that you’ll lose sight of him. Taking a glance around the room, you watch the group of people intently watching the white cue ball make its way across the billiards table before strategizing their next move. You glance over the group of people chugging their beers while the rest of the group cheers them on. Your eyes move towards a couple in a corner booth, watching as they giggle to themselves and throwing flirty glances toward each other. You try not to stare, but their nerves are so palpable you could feel it three tables away.
Your attention is pulled towards the unopened bottle of beer in front of you as Johnny takes a swig of the identical bottle in his hand. Without a word, Johnny uses the wide part of a random key from his keychain to effortlessly pop off the bottle cap.
“Are you showing off, John?” You playfully retort with your hand resting under your chin.
”Depends. Is it working?” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink. “I figured it’s better to open your drink in front of you, so you know it isn’t tampered with.”
“Very considerate of you, thank you.”
Johnny simply lifts his bottle towards you and you gently clink your amber colored glass against his. Taking a long sip, you allow your body to finally relax after a long week of work. Johnny makes himself comfortable on a stool across from you, elbows resting on the round table in front of him.
“What caught your attention earlier?” Johnny asks.
“It looks like that couple may be on a first date.” You share, inconspicuously tilting your head in the direction of the couple in the corner booth. “I found it cute that they’re holding hands under the table and it got me thinking about my first date, that’s all.”
“Oh?” Johnny’s eyebrows quirks upward, leaning into the backrest of his chair. “Do tell.”
“No.” You shake your head. “Not a chance.”
“Oh come on!” Johnny pouts. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“And what makes you think I’d want to hear about your first date?” You tease.
“Fair.” Johnny shrugs. “Hearing about another guy being your first anything doesn’t seem like a topic I’d like to touch on.”
You quietly chuckle and lean into your seat. “Jealous?”
“How can I not be?”
Your foot playfully jabs Johnny’s covered calf, causing him to chuckle to himself. Before he could speak up, you’re interrupted by a waiter and the delivery of the food Johnny ordered for the both of you. With a quick thank you, you take a bite of the potato fry that’s clearly fresh out of the fryer.
“Okay, so no discussing first date experience. Tell me what your ideal date would be.” Johnny lets out, mirroring your movements and grabbing a bite of the freshly fried potato.
“What?” You giggle, folding your arms over your chest. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Humor me.” Johnny shrugs. “I’m trying to have a normal conversation. What would your ideal date be?”
His gaze locks onto yours and you bite the line he’s throwing. With a sharp inhale, you lean forward. You follow Johnny’s fingers as he rips a piece of fish from the plate in front of you and dips it into the accompanying sauce the dish comes with before popping it into his mouth.
“A candle light dinner at home and a movie afterwards.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“I took you for someone who’d want to go to a fancy restaurant or something. Maybe take a trip overseas for dinner. Your ideal date seems—”
”Basic?”
Johnny nods, watching as your lips wrap around the opening of the beer bottle.
“A lot of the men I dated loved the lavish lifestyle and it gets old really fast when you realize they’d rather shower you with expensive things than spend time with you.” You let out a sigh. “I know it sounds like a first world complaint, but at the end of the day, it’s a whole lot of loneliness.”
“And that’s why you’d rather have a simple night in with someone that’s genuinely interested in you.” Johnny slowly nods, leaning into his chair and bringing the opening of his drink to his lips. “That’s good to know.”
❁❁❁❁❁
Four beers in and suddenly Johnny’s the funniest and most philosophical person you know; not to mention, a yapper who can go on and on about his growing Pokémon card collection that probably makes him the cutest nerd who has a goldmine of rare cards that would put him on a rob list.
Two beers in and a glass of whisky later, you’re a giggling mess and suddenly sharing more about your life than you’d ever imagined you would — everything laid out on the table for Johnny to pick and choose what to relentlessly tease you about; though he probably would never.
You catch the glimpse of the time, surprised with how quickly it has passed when you're with Johnny. “We should probably head out soon. It’s getting late.”
Johnny lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” He grins, swallowing the last bits of his drink before pulling his phone out. “I’ll order a ride.”
With your hand on his, you halt his movements. “Let me use the restroom first. It’s a pretty long ride back.” You eye the line of the woman’s restroom, sighing in disappointment as you’re aware of how full your bladder is. “We might be waiting for a while.”
Johnny follows where your gaze falls before tucking his phone away. Standing from his seat, he offers his hand to help you up. “We can use Yuta’s office restroom.”
“He’ll be okay with that?” You question, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way.
“Yeah. He gave me a spare key to his office for nights I get too drunk and can’t make it home. His couch isn’t the comfiest, but when you’re drunk out of your mind, anything will do.”
You giggle, following him down the hall hidden behind the bar. Based on the lack of intervention from the employees, you have a feeling he’s done this a few times short of it becoming a habit.
He unlocks the wooden door with a key he has and ushers you in. When the door shuts, the loud music and chatter suddenly stops. “The restroom is the door on your left. I’ll get a ride here while you do what you gotta do.”
“Thank you.” You smile, rushing off to the restroom while Johnny fiddles with his phone.
When you exit the restroom, Johnny quickly looks up at you from the sofa and jumps to his feet. “Our ride is 10 minutes away.”
You nod, looking around the room and catching the framed photos on Yuta’s desk. One photo of who you assumed to be Yuta and his parents, another of Yuta and his sisters, and another of a younger bar owner and a group of men — one of them being a shirtless younger Johnny with bleached blonde hair and lack of his tattoos that adorned his bicep that you’ve imagined tracing over more than you’d like to admit.
“This is you, right?” You smile, pointing at the photo of him at the beach with his friends. “I wouldn’t have expected you to go blonde.”
Johnny sharply inhales, shaking his head in disapproval of his younger self’s choices. “Spur of the moment type of thing.” He shrugs, using his large hand to cover the photo from your view. “Let’s not walk down memory lane of embarrassing moments.”
You smile, setting the framed photo down where it previously was. “Maybe you should consider going back.” Lifting your hand, you run your fingers through the side of his hair. “I think you looked great.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m very fond of the idea of frying my hair off again.” Johnny chuckles, taking your hand in his. “I just got it back to a healthy state.”
Pulling your hand back, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we wait outside for our ride?”
Johnny glances towards the door, then back at you. Lifting his hand, he gently moves a strand of hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. “I think you’ll be warmer here.”
Your knees go weak and there’s the flutters in your stomach that you try to bury deep into the pit of your stomach. When you finally meet his eyes, his gaze flicks between your eyes and lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You mumble, suddenly feeling self conscious.
“You’re beautiful.”
“We agreed to be strictly professional.” Your voice trembles when you feel his palm slide down your arm, the conviction in your words slowly withering with a simple touch. “Compliments like that are making me think you’re not holding up your end of our deal.”
“Believe me, I’m trying.” Johnny chuckles, his hand now playing with your fingertips right before lacing his fingers between yours. “You’re just…really hard to ignore.”
His lips press against your knuckles and you don’t stop him; not when he gives you a tender kiss on your wrist or when his lips press into your cheek, and certainly not when his hand cups the side of your neck and he gently weaves his lips with yours.
Warmth spreads through your body while his arms slide across your lower back to pull you closer. Your body arches into him, fingers mindlessly raking through his hair before you pull away slightly breathless.
“I don’t think this is what friends do, Johnny.”
A quiet huff that resembles a laugh leaves his lips before resuming his movements. “Please don’t be mad. I only said that because I thought you wanted me to say it.” He confesses between breaths and kisses. “I thought that’d be more palatable than to tell you how badly I want you.”
A smile blooms across your lips, satisfied with his words. You deepen the kiss — this time your lips frantically moving like you’ve been deprived from his touch for years.
You press against the edge of the desk, feeling the bulge forming under Johnny’s dress pants and heat pools between your thighs. Your hand dips under his waistband, feeling his warm and veiny shaft harden at your touch, twitching as your fingers wrap around his girth. With one full stroke from his base to his tip, he shudders. Your thumb rolls over his slit, his hand cups the back of your head and fingers grip your roots, tilting your head to look at him.
“Tell me you want me too.” He softly growls, his forehead pressing against yours. “I can’t be the only one.”
You grin, slowly stroking his shaft and watching him melt under your touch. “I need you.” You whisper against his lips. “Let me taste you.”
Johnny takes half a step back and you drop to your knees, fingers hastily moving to bring his waistband down his thighs. Before he could take in the sight of you on your knees for him, you envelop his tip between your lips and his jaw drops at the warmth your mouth offers. As your tongue swirls around his sensitive tip, his head tips back and his teeth bite down on his knuckle to stop the noise he so desperately wants to make.
Swallowing around him, saliva runs down your chin as his tip meets the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to water and when you look up at him, mouth full of his heavy cock, your tears spill from the outer corners of your eyes and he gently swipes them away with his thumbs.
“You’re doing a great job, baby.” He coos, the pads of his fingers gently stroking the space under your eyes. “You’re so perfect. Taking me so well.”
Your tummy does backflips and you squeeze your thighs shut, focusing on the bobbing of your head and the swirl of your tongue. Your cheeks hallow around his tip, sucking it until his lips break apart with a moan, jaw slacking and chest huffing up at down.
“My perfect girl.” He babbles, fingers gripping the roots of your hair. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come for you.”
Excitement ignites just behind your bellybutton, sucking on his tip just as you’ve done before. His eyes flutter shut and his brows draw tight. Johnny quietly groans your name, whispering it over and over like a prayer. His cheeks burn and his fingers twitch just before he tightens his grip in your hair.
And before he could stop it, his thick creamy ropes paint your tongue as his body stills, letting his entire body feel the ecstasy you helped him achieve. With a quick swallow of the remnants in your mouth, you pepper his sensitive tip and shaft with gentle kisses.
Helping you to your feet, his lips crash into yours while his hands frantically grope your backside. But before any other exploration could happen, a notification on his phone goes off.
A small frustrated groan rumbles in his throat and he pulls his phone out to see the notification that the ride he’s requested is arriving.
“Everything okay?” You ask, glancing at Johnny’s phone then catching his eye.
“Yeah, our ride is here.” He sighs, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We should probably—” He tilts his head towards the door and you simply nod, quickly readjusting your clothes before Johnny leads you out the door hand in hand.
Johnny slides in next to you, fingers lacing between yours and his head resting on your shoulder. The hints of his cologne mix with the smell of alcohol on his lips, and while you’d find it completely unpleasant if it were anyone else, Johnny was the exception.
And part of you entertains the idea that he’ll always be an exception.
— Apartment 3B.
“Thank you for tonight.” Johnny gives you a lopsided smile, the alcohol still coursing through his bloodstream. “Not just for what happened in Yuta’s office, but for letting me get to know you a little more.”
“Yeah, it was fun. A night away every once and a while doesn’t hurt.” You nod, feeling the cool air prickling your skin.
There’s a beat of silence, unsure of where to go from here. You shift on your feet, looking behind you at the entrance of your apartment building and Johnny glances towards his parked car, fingers fiddling with the keys in his pocket.
“I should probably go.” Johnny’s lips press into each other, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You must be tired.”
A tiny grin dances on your lips. Stepping forward, you reach for Johnny’s wrist as he pulls his keys out of his pockets. He looks at you surprised, lips parting slightly.
“I can’t let you drive after drinking tonight regardless of how much you can ‘handle your liquor.’” You let out, gently tugging on his wrist.
“You’re right.” Johnny sighs, looking back at his car. “I’ll sleep in my—”
You lift your palm to stop him. “You’ll be warmer in my place.” Giving him an affirmative nod, you pull him towards your building’s front entrance before he could object and you refuse to let his hand go as you both walk up to the third floor to your apartment.
As you push open the front door, you feel the surge of anticipation run through you as you blindly search for the nearby lightswitch. When the bright warm colored lights fill the room, you quickly step in and both you and your guest for the night toe off your shoes, kicking them to the side of the entrance way.
“Nice place,” Johnny compliments, “very cozy.”
You chuckle, turning on your heel to look at him. “Thanks. C’mon, I’ll give you a quick tour.” Extending your hand out, he cups his palm into yours but this time, he pulls you into his body – one hand finding your waist while the other cups the side of your neck and his lips hastily find his way to yours once more.
You don’t take a second to think about what to do next when your hands frantically undo the buttons of his long sleeve shirt and strip it off, throwing it haphazardly behind you while he drops his pants to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. It takes a split second to have your clothes in a pile next to the front door, leaving you in your matching garment set.
You’re stumbling through your apartment entrance, finally tumbling on top of Johnny as he falls onto your sofa. Climbing on top of him, knees pressing into the cushions of each side of his thighs, his erection hardens with every minuscule movement of your hips.
“Finally gonna let me be on top?” You playfully ask, trailing kisses against his jaw and down the side of his neck.
Johnny rasps a laugh, arms wrapping around your hips and in one swift move, he’s on top of you — giving you your answer.
“Not a chance.” He hums as the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek just before placing a soft tender kiss on your heated skin. “Now open—” He smacks the side of your thigh, the slap of flesh filling the silence of the room. “I need to taste you after you’ve deprived me for so long.”
You do as he says, spreading your thighs apart as you watch Johnny drop to his knees. Pulling aside the fabric covering your core, he wastes no time tasting you with a long strip of his tongue against your slit. Your head presses into the soft backing of your sofa, fingers raking through his hair as he devours you with no end in sight even when your vision blurs into stars or when your chest heaves up and down, and certainly not when you’re a whimpering mess with your nails digging into your cushion and gripping the edge of your seat.
Your body trembles when he gives you mercy, pulling away with his lips and chin glistening with your slick. You grab his hair, yanking him to your lips and your hands busy themselves with the waistband of the only fabric he has on. Slipping it down his legs and letting it pool around his feet before kicking it to the side, you give his long length a few pumps until his jaw slacks open as he feels all his blood rush to his cock.
Aligning his leaking tip with your entrance, he pushes into you, pressing your thighs to widen your spread for him. And with ease, you take him without hesitation.
“Your cunt is starving for me, baby—” Johnny groans, “begging me to stretch this pretty pussy open until you’re stuffed full with my cum.”
Blood rushes to your face and your heart races. You watch the way Johnny’s blown out pupils scan your features, suddenly making you extremely aware of how intoxicating his movements are — the quick and brutal thrust of his hips, the rush of heat through your body when his tip meets that sweet spot, and especially when his fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you down his cock.
You don’t bother being quiet. Not when Johnny pushes your knees to your chest and traps your body between him and the couch cushions, feeling your pulse pick up in speed and the octave in your moans becoming louder and louder with every pound of his cock into your soaking cunt.
“Scream for me, baby.” Johnny growls, the raw slapping of flesh punctuated by a groan. “Let everyone know I’m breeding my girl. Let them know you’re mine.”
His words only rattle in your head, making you nod and babble like the obedient slut you are. You cry out his name, tears prickling from the outer corners of your eyes as you writhe under him.
“Say you’re mine.” He orders through clenched teeth, hips harshly thrusting into you before stilling, feeling his tip press into your g-spot and making your eyes roll back. “Say. It.”
“Y—” Your breath hitches. “I-I’m yours.”
You mindlessly repeat the words, satisfying Johnny as his hips mercilessly snaps into you until you’re sobbing out how pathetically close you are to the edge; unable to hold on to the last bit of control you’re desperately clinging on to.
Your voice breaks as you cry out his name, feeling your walls tighten around every crevice of his engorged cock. Your eyes roll back, nails scraping down the skin of his back as his face buries into the crook of your neck. You whimper through the pleasure and your desperate noises are enough to make his voice crack on a moan, feeling him empty himself inside of you in sharp pulses. His cock twitches and a gravelly groan rumbles from his chest, pinning your hand into the sofa cushion with his eyes screwing shut and jaw slacking open at the bliss coursing through his body.
When he pulls his heavy cock out of you, the remnants he left behind slowly drip out of you and onto your flushed skin. Johnny smirks, using two fingers to scoop up the spill and push it back inside.
“It's dripping out of you already.” Johnny grins, fascinated with the sight of you limp and satisfied.
“Maybe you should fuck it in me again.” You happily let out as you prop yourself on your elbows. “Harder this time.”
“That wasn’t hard enough for you?” Johnny questions, an eyebrow quirking and his grin spreads wider, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. “I’m gonna have to fix that, don’t I?”
“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you think you don’t have it in you?”
Johnny laughs deep in his throat, a laugh that promises trouble. “Oh you’re definitely going to regret saying that.”
❁❁❁❁❁
The ache between your thighs is difficult to ignore as you carefully pull yourself out of bed to make coffee for yourself and the unexpected overnight guest who laid peacefully with his body heat keeping you warm last night.
“Where are you going?” He groggily asks, one eye squinting as he lifts his head to watch you throw on your silk robe. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me again.” His sleepy smile sends your heart into overdrive and you give him a reassuring peck on his temple.
“I’m gonna make coffee.” You whisper. “Its also my place, where else would I go?”
Johnny sheepishly smiles, falling back onto your pillow as you walk out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. As you wait for the coffee, the silence makes you think back on the night you had — a night that somehow surpassed the pleasure of the first time you spent with Johnny. You find your giddy state to be slightly embarrassing, but you can’t help but quietly squeal as if you had reached a new level of happiness.
“I love the smell of coffee in the morning,” Johnny yawns, joining you in your kitchen still in his boxer briefs. He takes a seat on a countertop and carefully takes hold of the mug you offer, taking a small sip. His eyes flutter shut, allowing the warm liquid to work its way through his body. “Not the best cure for a hangover, but addicting nonetheless.”
You chuckle, taking small sips of your beverage. “What do you want for breakfast?” You ask, setting down your favorite mug and making your way to the fridge. You pull the double fridge doors open, quickly embarrassed by the emptiness in front of you. “Ah, on second thought—” You let out an awkward laugh before it falters into a fake cough.
“Breakfast is on me. Is delivery okay?” Johnny swoops in, hopping off the counter.
You eagerly nod, delighted by the idea that you get to finally spend the morning after with Johnny.
Johnny disappears into your bedroom to fetch his phone, meanwhile your attention turns to the front door after hearing your doorbell. Peaking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Kang, outside with her lip tucked between her teeth and her brows knitted together.
You quickly open your front door and a wave of relief washes over your neighbor’s face when she sees you.
“Oh thank god!” Mrs. Kang lets out. “You’re okay.”
“Y-yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Do you need help, Mrs. K?”
Your elderly neighbor shakes her head. Her short dark bob swung at her movements. “It’s just, I didn’t hear you come home last night and then I heard these noises coming from your apartment. I called my daughter to see what I should do — if I should check in on you when I heard the noise or call the police right away…”
You nod attentively as you hear her express her concern. A mix of embarrassment about how loud you were and the regret of not throwing on your sleepwear makes you uncomfortably adjust your robe. You hold the fabric together near your collarbones, almost afraid Mrs. Kang could somehow see you’re completely naked underneath.
“…but she told me to check in on you in the morning. So here I am.”
You nervously gulp, suddenly feeling you’ve done something wrong. “I’m so sorry to worry you, Mrs. K. I went out for drinks with a friend of mine and didn’t get in until late.”
“But the noises—”
“Hey baby, do you want a breakfast sandwich or are you feeling—” Johnny’s voice becomes clearer as he appears behind you, still in his underwear, eyes glued to his phone screen, and completely unaware of your neighbor’s presence or her wide eyes when she finally connects the dots in her head.
“Oh.” Mrs. Kang simply says, finally grabbing Johnny’s attention. She bites back a sheepish grin, avoiding eye contact with you and the handsome man behind you. “Ah, the noises make sense.”
“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I wasn’t—I didn’t—I-I’ll keep it down, I promise.” You profusely apologize, using your arm to push Johnny behind you in fear that his half-naked body would somehow send your poor neighbor into cardiac arrest.
“Not to worry, dear. I was young too and had my share of midnight friends.” Mrs. Kang giggles. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you for checking in. I’ll give you my number, that way when you’re worried or need help, you can just call me directly.” You quickly jot down your personal phone number on a nearby memo pad.
“And your name, dear?” Mrs. Kang looks at Johnny who is now using your front door to hide his promiscuous state.
“Oh! Uh, I’m John. John Suh, ma’am.” You catch a hint of redness paint over Johnny’s cheeks and travel down his pale neck. “I apologize for the noise. I told her to keep it down last night.”
With a quick nudge to Johnny’s bicep, you give your neighbor the piece of paper with your number. “I’m so sorry, again.”
Mrs. Kang lifts her hand, palm facing you. A warm smile stretched across her face. “It’s no problem. I’m just glad you're safe."
“Thank you, Mrs. K. Just let me know if we’re a bother or anything. We won’t take offense, I swear.”
“Will do, dear. Have fun you two.”
You and Johnny wave an awkward goodbye before he slowly shuts the door. When he turns to you, he gives you a small laugh under his breath as he scratches the back of his neck. “That was awkward.”
You give him a knowing look, crossing your arm over your chest. “Told me to keep it down last night, huh?” Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts to the side. “Weren’t you the one telling me to do the opposite?”
Johnny gives you a lopsided smile before his palms cup your cheeks, pulling you in to give you a kiss on your forehead. “Back to breakfast, what do you wanna eat?”
“Surprise me.” You mumble into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. “I trust you.”
Cupping the back of your head, he lifts his phone and orders breakfast from a familiar diner that he’s ordered from before, getting the both of you his regular order.
“Now that’s settled—” Johnny tosses his phone onto your couch and swoops you up over his shoulder. A squeal leaves your lips, legs flailing as Johnny saunters into your bedroom.
“What’re you doing?” You giggle as you’re gently thrown onto your mattress, watching as Johnny climbs on top of you. His fingers play with the fabric holding your robe together before tugging at it, watching the silk unravel and slip down your shoulder.
“Having a pre-breakfast.” His devilish grin disarms you quickly, allowing him to spread your thighs wide. “This time, you might wanna keep it down…for your neighbor’s sake.”
— The Morning After.
Walking into the break room, you’re greeted by Mina and her insanely bubbly personality at 7:30 in the morning. “How was your weekend?” She asks, taking a generous bite of a donut that another employee brought in to share.
You can’t help but bite back a smile, fingers busying themselves as they shuffle through the newly stocked bags of veggie chips to snack on later. Spending the entire weekend with Johnny wasn’t something you’d plan, but between the fucking, the cuddling, and the pure bliss of simply being around each other made it hard for either of you to be the first one to let go of the hold you two had on each other.
“It was fine. How was yours?”
Mina babbles on and on about how she rearranged her bedroom twice, had a virtual meetup with some friends back home, and started a rewatch binge of The Big Bang Theory for the 5th time.
From the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure coolly sauntering into the room with his hair parted perfectly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, and shining the same glow you’ve had since Friday night. A few morning greetings are thrown his way and Johnny kindly returns polite conversation before interjecting into your conversation with Mina.
“Morning Mina.” Johnny smiles politely, then turns to you. “Morning, boss. Think I could pick your brain before our meeting today?” Johnny asks, eyes locked with yours as if he’s giving you a message only you’ll understand.
“Putting her to work before 8 am? You’re brutal, Suh.” Mina teases, tossing the used napkin in her hand into a nearby trash bin.
“What can I say? I gotta keep her focused.” Johnny laughs quietly, then turns to you. “What do you say?”
You nod at Johnny before wrapping up your conversation with Mina. Following closely behind Johnny, he opens his office door and gestures to you inside. When you hear the door’s lock click, Johnny’s hands find your waist, twisting your body and pressing his against yours.
“So, this is your idea of picking my brain?” You giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling his lips to yours weaving them together like you’d done this entire weekend.
Johnny smiles against your lips, fingers cupping the nape of your neck. “This weekend wasn’t long enough.”
“It’s a good thing you see me here everyday, huh?”
Johnny hums. “And yet, it somehow feels like that won’t be enough.”
With your palms firmly pressed into Johnny’s chest, you pull away from his kiss. “You’re obsessed.” You playfully remark, carefully moving the strand of his hair that’s fallen onto his forehead.
“Come over after work.” Johnny offers, lips leaving a trail of kisses on your cheek.
“Next, you’re gonna ask me to stay the night.”
“Would that be a bad thing?”
You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching for sincerity in his. Then you realize where you are — at work, with your co-worker peppering you with kisses in secret.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, afraid he’s crossed a line he can’t come back from. “I-I’m sorry.” Quickly dropping his arms, he steps away to give you space.
“No, no. You didn’t—” you quickly say. “Maybe we can keep things professional during work hours. The last thing I want is for us to lose our jobs because we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
Johnny nods in agreement. “We’ll keep things professional during work hours. I’ll take what I can get.” He looks at the digital clock sitting on his desk. “We have 10 minutes before our work shift actually starts. Does that count a—”
Biting down on your bottom lip, your hand snakes behind the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips. But just before you could meet his lips, his office phone startles the both of you when it rings and Mr. Choi’s name pops up on the screen.
Johnny grumbles quietly before lifting the receiver to his ear. Johnny greets the manager simply, listening to his words and rolling his eyes in the process.
“Sure, I’ll head up in a bit.” Johnny says before hanging up. He looks at you apologetically, holding your hand in his. “Choi wants me to meet some fresh college grads for an internship here. He says he’s pairing one with me and that I should meet her before the internship actually starts.”
You don’t mean to focus on such a minor detail, but your mouth works faster than your brain sometimes. “Her? Your new intern is a woman?”
You see a small grin tug on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “You’re kinda cute when you’re jealous. Your nose crinkles a little when your eyebrows—” Johnny reaches to press his thumb against your furrowed eyebrows before you swat his hand away.
“I’m not jealous.” Your attempt to make your words sound less defensive but the amused look on Johnny’s face makes you realize he can see right through you.
“That’s good,” Johnny reassures, “because there’s no reason to be. I’m yours, remember?”
You press a smile as you feel his lips pecking against your cheek. Pushing down the uncomfortable feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, you file this jealous feeling under irrationality in your brain.
After all, Johnny is loyal — to a fault sometimes, like Jaehyun shared. There’s nothing you need to worry about.
Right?
❁ disclaimer | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify any of my writing. do not share my work on other platforms without my explicit permission.
love, laundry, and lunches synopsis: while you're stuck at the office fulfilling your duties as a social media manager from 9 AM to 5 PM, your beloved husband, donghyuck, often finds himself torn between hiding from your three kids to make a surprise visit to see you or ensuring they are sleeping safe and sound and the house isn't caught on fire by the time you come home.
it should be pretty simple and straightforward. and it is. but for your family? it's anything but.
contents: househusband!haechan, coporate worker!reader, marriedlife!au, parents!au, fluff, suggestive, petnames for reader & their kids, established relationship, hyuck being a stressed girl and boys dad 😭😭😭😭, 7dream + 127 mentioned as uncles!
a/n: i've always wanted to do a drabble/mini series like this soooo... i started it 😅 this'll come in handy every time i lose brain power for school work and would rather write fluffy cute stories on a google doc. IMPORTANT: this series isn't meant to follow an upload schedule, as it's simply whenever inspiration hits me!
comment if you wish to tag along on the cute adventures of these parents as they navigate their personal dreams and strive to be the best parents they can be!
taglist is open and all chapters are in no order and can be read as standalones. happy reading <3
THE BEFORE!
episode one: NEVER trust dating apps
after many failed attempts to find a suitable lover, donghyuck realizes that he's stuck and, though he doesn't want to admit it, lonely. so, he's left with his last desperate option: find love the only way this modern society can. through a dating app, of course!
THE DURING!
episode one:
episode two:
episode three:
episode five: ...and marry me?
the time in donghyuck's life when he discovers even the messy, chaotic moments in life can be considered a grand marriage proposal when you're as awesome as him. or in short: the day he finally goes down on one knee.
& THE AFTER!
episode one: laundry loony
with you still at work, donghyuck brings his kids along to the laundromat after not being able to find a sitter and discovers that it would've been a lot easier if he left them at home.
episode two: "love, dada <3" notes on lunches
donghyuck may not be an early bird or the most passionate cook in the world, but the daily notes he writes on his kids' lunches make it all worth it.
episode three: "love, your amazing awesome hilarious husband who can't wait till you come home <3" notes on lunches
donghyuck's still not an early bird or passionate about cooking, but his little morning moments consisting of you, warm coffee, waking up the kids, and a kiss on his lips before you walk out the door make it all worth it.
episode four: date night gone... right?
with the majority of the (trustworthy) bros being booked and busy on date night, you and donghyuck are left with one last option, which you both may or may not regret. leave chenle and jisung alone to babysit your three kids.
episode five: like father, like son
after getting a surprise call from your oldest son's school, donghyuck realizes one thing: like father, like son.
episode six: mr. & mrs. lee
donghyuck adores you, and he never shys away from doing so, which explains why you happen to forget that there are many women who adore him, specifically at an office party for your job.
episode seven: third time's a charm!
after planning so many birthday parties, you'd assume you and donghyuck to be experts at acknowledging that your kids are growing up. wrong. because what do you mean your daughter's already one year old and tears are pouring before the cake is even sliced?
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 synopsis- You thought moving into your best friend’s party house would be the most reckless decision you would make all year—turns out that was only the beginning. Now you’re trying to figure out whether risking your friendship is worth admitting what you’ve both been pretending not to feel.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 warnings- heavy alcohol use, sex under the influence, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), smoking, partying.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 w/c- 17k
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Now playing: Can’t feel my face- The Weeknd
a/n- hiii guys, I’m back hehe!!! Sorry about the dense format and having to break this up into so many parts, tumblr is weird with length loll. I really hope you guys enjoy this story and please, let me know your thoughts, and if you'd like to be tagged in future parts. Luv you all mwah mwah 💋 (sorry if you've already seen this exact message on the last post lmaooo)
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Friday finally arrived in the blink of an eye. By late afternoon the house already felt alive, music echoing softly through the upstairs flat while you moved around the kitchen helping Jaemin finish setting everything up before people arrived. The windows were open, letting warm air drift through the space while string lights glowed faintly around the backyard pool. Jaemin was standing on top of the couch trying to fix one of the LED strips near the ceiling when you walked back in carrying bags of chips against your chest.
"You're gonna fall." You warned immediately, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter while watching him stretch farther toward the ceiling.
"I'm fine." He replied confidently, though the second the lights flickered completely off you just crossed your arms and stared at him. Jaemin looked up at the dead strip for a moment before sighing under his breath.
"Okay." He admitted reluctantly while climbing down from the couch. "Maybe I'm not fine."
You laughed softly, shaking your head as he stepped around you toward the speaker. Before either of you could continue, headlights flashed through the front windows followed by loud voices outside and the sound of something heavy slamming against the front steps. Jaemin froze instantly, already looking exhausted.
"They're here." He muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face while heading toward the stairs.
The second he opened it, Haechan practically stumbled inside wearing black swim trunks, sunglasses, and a backwards cap despite the fact the sun was already starting to set.
"BUSINESSPEOPLE!" He yelled dramatically, throwing both arms up like he'd just arrived at a concert instead of a house party.
Behind him, Renjun struggled dragging a wagon overflowing with alcohol bottles while another guy pushed a second wagon up the front step behind him. You blinked slowly at the amount of liquor packed inside.
"That is concerning." You said honestly while staring at the bottles stacked almost dangerously high.
"It's called preparation." Haechan corrected while kicking the door shut behind him.
"It's called alcoholism." Renjun muttered under his breath while trying to pull the wagon over the doorway without flipping it over completely.
The guy behind him finally looked up then, immediately smiling the second his eyes landed on you. "Oh." He said softly, slightly breathless from dragging the wagon. "You must be Y/n."
You smiled back naturally. "And you must be Jisung."
"The famous Jisung." Haechan cut in dramatically while disappearing into the kitchen.
"The employed Jisung." Renjun laughed from behind him.
Jisung laughed quietly under his breath before holding his hand out toward you. "Nice to finally meet you." He said warmly, and you shook his hand lightly.
"Nice to meet you too."
Jaemin appeared beside you carrying one of the coolers before either of you could say much else. "Careful." He said casually while walking past the two of you toward the kitchen. "He gets attached easily."
Jisung immediately looked offended. "That's actually hurtful." He complained while following behind him.
"It's also true." Renjun added without looking up.
You laughed softly to yourself while following them inside. The entire house became loud almost immediately after that. Bottles clinked against counters, ice poured into coolers, music got turned up louder. Everyone moved around each other quickly trying to finish setup before people arrived. Haechan was already taking shots before the party even started. Everyone was dressed for the pool already. Haechan and Renjun were shirtless in swim trunks while Jisung wore gray swim shorts and a loose white tank top that kept slipping off one shoulder every time he bent down to unpack something. And Jaemin— you immediately forced yourself to stop looking. Black swim shorts, oversized white button up hanging open over his shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, slightly damp hair from the shower he'd taken earlier. It was honestly irritating.
"So." Jisung said while crouching beside you to unpack mixers from one of the boxes. "Is it true you basically co run this place now?"
You laughed softly while stacking juice bottles onto the counter. "Apparently."
"She's terrifying with business." Jaemin said from across the kitchen while organizing cups into neat stacks.
You narrowed your eyes immediately. "You made me color code spreadsheets."
"Because organization matters." He replied simply.
Jisung smiled while shaking his head. "See? I already know I'm gonna like you more."
Jaemin immediately looked up. "Relax." He answered so quickly that it made you laugh before you could stop yourself.
By eleven thirty the house was packed. Music shook through the walls while people crowded shoulder to shoulder through the upstairs flat, laughter and shouted conversations filling the air. The backyard glowed beneath the pool lights while people danced barefoot on the patio with drinks in their hands. Somehow, this time, you weren't nervous at all. You moved through the crowd easier, recognizing people from campus while others greeted you like they already knew you from all the flyers and posts throughout the week.
At one point you found yourself near the kitchen laughing at something someone had said when Haechan suddenly appeared beside you holding two shot glasses already filled. "No." You said immediately, already laughing while he shoved one toward you anyway.
"Yes." He replied confidently. "And before you start panicking, this is normal alcohol. Like actual low percentage alcohol, for the boring people."
"You almost killed me last week." You reminded him while eyeing the shot suspiciously.
"That was an accident." He defended dramatically.
"That sounded very unserious."
"It was very unserious." He admitted.
Before you could answer, Jaemin somehow appeared beside you like he always did whenever alcohol got near you.
Haechan groaned loudly. "Why do you keep popping up every time she drinks?"
"Because I don't trust you." Jaemin answered without hesitation before looking at you instead. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
You looked down at the shot glass for a second before glancing back up at him. You felt okay tonight, more than okay. "I think I'll be alright."
Jaemin studied your face for a moment before finally nodding once. "Okay." He said carefully. "Just don't overdo it."
Haechan rolled his eyes dramatically. "You two stress me out." He complained before lifting his shot glass into the air. "To new beginnings!"
You laughed before clinking your glass against his. The alcohol burned a little going down, but nowhere near as horribly as last week. Haechan pointed at you proudly the second you swallowed. "See? Safe."
"Barely." You coughed dramatically while Jaemin laughed quietly beside you.
"How do you feel?" He asked, watching you carefully.
"Alive." You answered, making him smile slightly.
That made the corner of his mouth lift slightly. "That's already progress."
Twenty minutes later the warmth from the alcohol settled comfortably through your body, just enough to soften everything around the edges. Music sounded fuller, lights looked prettier. You found yourself laughing harder than usual while dancing badly near the kitchen with Haechan. Eventually your eyes drifted back toward the counter again, another shot wouldn't hurt... probably. You wandered back over toward Jaemin who was pouring himself a drink near the island. The second he looked at your face he sighed. "That look means trouble."
You leaned against the counter beside him. "I want another one."
"A second shot?" He repeated slowly, looking over at you carefully.
"It's fine this time." You defended quickly.
"You said that last week too."
You burst out laughing loud enough that someone nearby glanced over smiling. "Come on." You said while nudging his arm lightly. "One more."
Jaemin stared at you for a second before sighing dramatically. "You make bad decisions look convincing."
"That means yes?" You smiled.
He shrugged. "I can't control your actions, I can only be there while you're doing them."
You grinned immediately while he grabbed two shot glasses from beside the bottles. This time the two of you took the shots together standing shoulder to shoulder near the kitchen island while music blasted around you. Immediately afterward Jaemin made the most disgusted face imaginable, grabbing his drink instantly. "Oh, that's horrible." He complained while you laughed so hard you almost choked. "I hate alcohol."
"And you keep drinking with me." You said.
"I'm supervising you."
You smiled. "That sounds fake."
"It's completely real." He argued while following you toward the bar area where Jisung was already mixing drinks for people.
The second he saw you approach, his face brightened slightly. "You made it." He said while pouring juice into another cup.
"Barely." You replied dramatically.
"That's the spirit." He smiled before looking between you and Jaemin. "What can I get you?"
"Something strong." You answered while leaning against the counter.
Jisung nodded immediately. "Strong drinks are actually my specialty, it's a gift." He replied smoothly, making you laugh quietly while you watched him mix the drink together.
"You know." He said after a second while handing the cup over to you. "Jaemin described you very differently."
Jaemin immediately looked over from beside you. "Why are you talking about me?"
Jisung ignored him completely. "I expected you to be mean."
You gasped softly. "Excuse me?"
"That's not what I said!" Jaemin defended immediately while pointing toward him. "I said sarcastic, not mean."
"Same thing." Jisung answered casually.
You laughed into your drink while Jaemin shook his head under his breath.
"I think he undersold you though." Jisung continued while leaning against the counter now. "You're actually nice."
Before you could answer, Jaemin leaned one arm against the counter beside you. "She's nice for now." He said casually, though there was something smoother underneath it. "Give it an hour."
You looked over at him immediately. Jaemin naturally always found ways to pull your attention back toward him every time it drifted elsewhere.
Jisung noticed too, judging by the small smile that crossed his face. "You always this protective?" He asked casually.
"I'm hosting." Jaemin replied easily.
"That didn't answer the question."
Jaemin just smiled into his drink instead of answering, which somehow made it worse.
By the end of the night everyone was exhausted and still at least slightly tipsy. The party had somehow been even bigger than opening night, but smoother too. People slowly left out around three in the morning while music softened through the house and the backyard finally quieted down. Haechan was the first one to suggest the pool.
"Absolutely." Renjun smiled, immediately while grabbing a towel.
Ten minutes later all four of you were in the water. The pool lights glowed beneath the surface while music played faintly from inside the house. The cold water felt good against your overheated skin after hours inside the crowded house. Haechan kept trying to splash everyone at once while Renjun floated near the deep end laughing at him. At one point Jaemin splashed you directly in the face for absolutely no reason whatsoever. You stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, you wanna fight?" You asked while wiping water from your face.
His grin widened instantly. "Absolutely."
Five minutes later the two of you were splashing each other like children while Haechan screamed dramatically in the background about getting water in his eyes. Eventually Renjun climbed out first looking exhausted. "I'm going inside before you people kill me." He muttered with a smile while grabbing his towel.
"Coward." Haechan yelled after him before eventually following too after complaining about being hungry. "Don't stay out here too long." He warned. "Or do. I'm not your dad."
Then suddenly it was just you and Jaemin left in the pool. The night had gone quieter now, cool air drifting through the backyard while water moved softly around you both beneath the glowing lights. You leaned back against the edge of the pool catching your breath while Jaemin floated nearby. After a moment he looked over at you, expression softer now than it had been all night. "You had fun tonight." He said quietly, it wasn't really a question.
You smiled tiredly. "I did."
Something about your answer seemed to please him. "Told you." He said softly.
"You were right." You admitted while rolling your eyes slightly. "Don't let it get to your head."
"Too late."
Jaemin floated slightly closer, water shifting softly around him. "Tomorrow's gonna be worse." He warned teasingly.
You groaned dramatically. "I forgot there was one tomorrow."
"Haechan probably already posted videos from tonight."
"Oh no." You smiled.
"Yeah." He laughed quietly. "We're done for."
Honestly, you couldn't remember the last time you relaxed this much around this many people without feeling drained afterward. Tonight should've overwhelmed you, but it almost felt easy. Then suddenly cold water hit your shoulder.
You snapped your head toward him immediately. "Did you just splash me?"
Jaemin was already grinning. "Maybe."
"You literally started this last time too."
"And?"
You narrowed your eyes before splashing him back harder.
Water hit him across the face while he laughed under his breath, wiping his eyes. "Okay, alright."
"You deserved that."
He started moving toward you through the water slowly. "You're getting way too confident."
You pointed at him warningly. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
Before you could answer, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the edge of the pool fast enough that a startled laugh escaped you. Water splashed around both of you while you instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself.
"Jaemin—" You screamed.
"You talk too much." He said lowly.
You splashed water directly into his face again. He laughed, low and breathless, tightening his grip around your waist before you could pull away again. The movement brought you closer than either of you probably intended, then closer again. You tried shifting backward, but your foot slipped slightly against the pool floor, and instinctively your legs wrapped around his waist to catch yourself, arms wrapping around his neck.
Everything went quiet. The water moved quietly around you both while Jaemin's hands settled automatically at your waist beneath the surface, holding you steady. Your arms stayed looped loosely around the back of his neck, more for balance than anything else, but neither of you moved to let go immediately. The air suddenly felt colder or maybe you were just too aware of how close he was. His face was right in front of yours. Wet hair falling across his forehead, water dripping slowly from his jaw while his breathing stayed uneven from laughing seconds earlier, you could feel it against your skin. Jaemin looked at you for a second too long, not joking, not teasing. Your stomach twisted strangely as you stared at him back.
You laughed softly under your breath mostly because the silence was getting worrying. "We're kinda close."
His eyes flicked down toward your mouth for the briefest second before lifting back up. "...Yeah." He said quietly.
Neither of you moved which somehow made everything worse. Or maybe better, you weren't sure anymore. Then slowly, almost awkwardly, you loosened your arms from around his neck first. Jaemin let go of your waist a second later, though his hands lingered for half a second before dropping back into the water. You both pulled apart carefully, the silence afterward felt different now. Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck while looking away briefly with a quiet laugh under his breath like he was trying to reset himself mentally.
At the exact same time, both of you spoke. "We should probably go inside."
You blinked, then laughed immediately. "That was awful timing."
"Actually painful." He muttered, laughing too.
You shook your head, smiling while he climbed out of the pool first. Water ran down his legs while he grabbed one of the towels tossed near the chairs. Then he looked back toward you and held his hand out naturally, like he didn't even think about doing it and you took it. His hand tightened around yours as he pulled you up carefully from the water, steadying you when your foot slipped slightly against the concrete. Again, neither of you let go immediately.
Jaemin cleared his throat softly before finally reaching for your towel instead and draping it around your shoulders. "C'mon." He said quietly. "It's freezing."
You nodded. And together, the two of you walked back inside.
═════════════════════════
You woke up the next morning slowly, rubbing at your eyes before turning toward the clock sitting beside your bed: 10:25 AM. A relieved sigh escaped you as you dropped back against the mattress for another second, staring blankly at the ceiling. You actually got to sleep in a little.. thank god.
Your body still felt warm from the night before, exhaustion sitting in you in the best possible way, the kind that only came after a genuinely good night. Your head didn't hurt surprisingly, but faint memories still drifted through your mind in flashes—music shaking the walls, water splashing beneath glowing pool lights, Jaemin laughing so hard at one point he nearly slipped trying to splash you back... the moment you got too close. You physically covered your face with one hand. God, you could still almost feel exactly how close he'd been. The warmth of his hands against your waist despite the cold water, the way he looked at you like he almost forgot himself for a second. And the worst part was you hadn't moved either, that was the problem.
You trusted Jaemin more than almost anyone. Living together already blurred enough lines on its own. Late nights together, grocery runs, cleaning up after parties, him checking on you constantly like it was instinct. It would've been easy to let yourself read too much into things if you weren't careful. And you really, really didn't want to ruin this because whatever existed between you right now worked. You didn't want to be the person who complicated it.
Still... your stomach twisted awkwardly remembering the way he said yeah...we are.
You reached over for your phone off the nightstand, blinking against the brightness of the screen. The second it unlocked, notifications flooded the screen so aggressively you actually laughed. Your following on Instagram had gone up by over fifty overnight. And the tags—videos from the party filled your notifications. Blurry clips of people screaming lyrics in the kitchen, videos of Haechan dancing horribly in the middle of the living room, pictures around the pool. There was even one horribly blurry video of you laughing while Jaemin splashed water at you from across the pool. You stared at it for maybe a second too long before tossing your phone back onto the bed—nope, absolutely not thinking about that right now.
You dragged yourself up to start getting ready. Soft music drifted faintly through the ceiling while footsteps moved around above you. You made your way upstairs slowly, the smell of leftover alcohol hitting you the second you stepped into Jaemin's flat. He looked up immediately. "Hey, good morning." He smiled, pausing mid sweep with the broom in his hands.
"Good morning." You replied automatically, smiling back while grabbing some of the abandoned cups off the counter and tossing them into the trash beside the island.
"Did you have fun?" He asked while sweeping again.
You nodded almost immediately. "Lots." You admitted honestly before glancing over at him. "Did you?"
"Yeah." He answered with a grin. "Party was a hit." Then he laughed quietly under his breath. "Though, I didn't get as fucked up as I hoped."
You smiled while wiping part of the counter down with a rag. "There's always tonight."
"True." He agreed before leaning the broom against the counter. "Are you drinking tonight again?"
"Yeah." You admitted. "But I probably won't get as messed up as you... taking it easy."
"Safe." He approved with a nod.
"Boring." You corrected immediately, pointing toward him slightly. "But somebody's gotta make sure everything stays in check around here."
"You think too hard." He told you while carrying empty bottles toward the trash bag near the door. "You're supposed to enjoy yourself too."
You shrugged lightly. "Someone has to be responsible."
"Not you, pretty girl." He answered immediately.
Your eyes flickered toward him before you could stop yourself. Jaemin didn't even seem to realize how quickly he said it. He just kept moving around the kitchen casually like nothing happened, but something about the way he looked at you for that split second made your stomach feel weirdly unsteady again—like last night.
You looked away, grabbing another cup off the counter before the silence could settle too long. "Jisung coming tonight?" You asked casually.
Jaemin's eyes cut toward you instantly. "No." He answered a little too fast. "He has work." Then he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why? You like him or something?"
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "He's cute, that's all."
Jaemin let out a low hum while looking back toward the floor he was sweeping. "Well." He said casually after a second. "I wouldn't."
You raised a brow. "Wouldn't what?"
"Pursue that." He said simply.
"And why not?" You questioned while leaning against the counter.
"Because." He shrugged lightly, though his grip shifted higher on the broom handle. "He's not your type personality wise." A grin tugged at his mouth after a second. "And because I'm not dealing with my entire friend group imploding over drama."
You laughed again, while nodding. "Fair."
"But?" He pressed immediately.
"But nothing." You answered honestly. "I wasn't planning on it anyways."
"Good." He said.
He looked almost annoyed with himself for a second before masking it with another smile, but the damage was already done. And maybe you were imagining it, but he looked weirdly satisfied by your answer.
A second later he sighed dramatically and dropped the broom against the counter again. "I'm starving." He said while rubbing his stomach. "Are you?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna go get food?" He asked while grabbing his keys off the counter. "We'll go to your favorite spot."
You smiled immediately. "Sounds good to me."
You turned to head downstairs for your shoes, but before you could get farther than two steps Jaemin grabbed your wrist lightly. You turned back toward him confused while he dug through the pocket of his hoodie. A second later he pulled out a thick wad of folded cash and dropped it into your hand.
"This belongs to you." He said simply. "Two hundred and fifty even."
Your eyes widened slightly. "Sick."
Jaemin laughed quietly under his breath at how fast your face lit up. "There's gonna be even more people tonight." He warned while leaning back against the counter. "Are you okay with that?"
You nodded once. "I have to be."
"No you don't." He corrected immediately, expression softening. "This is your place too. If you want a max amount of people, say the word and I'll make it happen."
And there it was again—that thing he kept doing. Because Jaemin never treated you like you were just renting space from him. Never made decisions without considering you first. Half the time it felt less like you were living in his house and more like the two of you had somehow built this weird life together accidentally.
You smiled softly. "Thank you, Jaemin." You said genuinely. "But I promise, it's okay with me."
And honestly you thought he was exaggerating about more people...he wasn't.
By the time eleven rolled around that night, the house was so packed it almost stopped feeling real. Bodies filled every corner of the upstairs flat shoulder to shoulder while music blasted loud enough to vibrate through the floors. The backyard somehow looked even worse, people crowded around the glowing pool beneath the string lights, drinks raised in the air, groups dancing.
You stopped halfway through the kitchen entrance just to stare. "Oh my goodness." You muttered under your breath while squeezing through the crowd toward the kitchen.
Tonight was bigger... way bigger. The energy felt completely different too. Opening night had felt experimental, last night felt exciting, tonight felt like this had officially become something. The second you reached the bar area, you grabbed a cup and immediately started making yourself a drink just to survive the noise around you. Before you could even finish pouring the juice, Jaemin appeared beside you like usual.
"You look stressed already." He laughed while reaching over your shoulder for a bottle.
His cheeks were faintly flushed already, sleeves rolled up while his hair fell messily over his forehead from moving around. Somehow he looked even better when he was slightly drunk, which felt unfair.
"I can't even see the floor anymore." You complained while glancing around the packed kitchen.
Jaemin laughed quietly before pouring two shots.. "Relax." He said while handing one toward you. "You survived last night."
You eyed the glass suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Normal alcohol." He promised. "I checked personally."
"That means nothing coming from you." You said sarcastically.
He laughed under his breath before lightly tapping his shot glass against yours. "Trust me."
The alcohol burned going down, but this time instead of fear or worry, you felt excitement, freedom. Haechan found you maybe ten minutes later already holding another bottle in his hand.
"There you are!" He yelled dramatically over the music before shoving another shot glass toward you.
You stared at him. "Again?"
"Yes again." He answered like it was obvious. "Tonight's a celebration."
And you can't even lie, you stopped overthinking after that. Another shot happened, then another drink, then another shot. At some point your body stopped feeling heavy and instead started feeling weightless—happy. The music sounded louder, the lights looked prettier. Everything around you blurred together into flashing colors and laughter. And the strangest part was you weren't even scared, not even a little.
At some point you found Haechan near the middle of the living room dancing with a drink spilling from his hand. "Oh my god." You laughed loudly while pushing through the crowd toward him. "What are you doing?"
"Winning." He yelled confidently before grabbing your wrist and spinning you directly into the crowd with him.
The two of you danced like complete idiots in the middle of the packed room while music pounded through the walls. Haechan kept nearly losing his balance while trying to spin you dramatically and every time he stumbled you laughed harder. Then suddenly Jaemin appeared beside both of you, his eyes slightly glassy while he laughed at whatever the hell Haechan was doing.
"There y'all are." He said, but he was only looking directly at you. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, finger pointing at you. "Wait—are you drunk?"
You immediately burst into giggles. "Yeah."
Jaemin stared at you for a second before laughing too. "Me too."
Haechan yelled excitedly while throwing both arms around both of you at once. All three of you nearly lost balance instantly. The music was loud enough you could barely hear yourselves think, but somehow you didn't care. Everything felt loud and bright and good. And somewhere deep down, part of you realized something—you hadn't felt this free in years.
Eventually Haechan disappeared somewhere into the crowd, chasing after someone who stole his drink, leaving you and Jaemin dancing together near the middle of the living room. Well... as alone as two people could be in a packed house. He spun you around recklessly to songs neither of you fully knew while both of you laughed hard enough to lose balance more than once.
Every time you looked at him, he was already looking at you first, looking just as happy as you felt. There was something different about tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he kept close to you all night without realizing it, maybe it was the pool last night still lingering awkwardly between you both. Whatever it was, you felt it. Especially when his hand stayed at your waist a second too long after spinning you back toward him. Especially when you noticed he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else around him anymore.
People around you started yelling suddenly while someone shoved both of you toward the coffee table near the center of the room. "Absolutely not—" You started laughing immediately.
"Yes absolutely." Jaemin interrupted while climbing onto the table first before holding his hand out toward you.
You should've said no, instead you grabbed his hand anyway. The second he pulled you up beside him, the room erupted loudly around you. Phones lifted instantly recording while people cheered beneath the flashing lights. Jaemin was laughing so hard beside you he could barely stay balanced, one hand gripping yours tighter every time either of you slipped. For once you weren't thinking about anything. Not your past, not the drinking, not the weird line between friendship and whatever this was slowly turning into—you were just happy.
Eventually Jaemin grabbed your wrist gently while catching his breath. "I need air." He admitted loudly over the music.
You nodded immediately before pulling him through the crowd toward the balcony. The cool night air hit your skin instantly once the door slid shut behind you. "Oh my god." You groaned dramatically while leaning against the railing. "That's so much better."
Jaemin laughed softly beside you while running a hand through his messy hair. "This is insane." He admitted while glancing back toward the packed house.
"But fun." You added quickly.
"But fun." He agreed with a grin.
For a second the two of you just stood there listening to the muffled bass from inside, somewhere below voices echoed around the backyard pool, while cool air drifted around you both. Then your expression softened slightly while looking over at him. "I'm really happy I met you." You admitted suddenly.
Jaemin blinked slightly like the words caught him off guard, before smiling smaller this time. "Yeah?" He asked quietly.
You nodded. "Like genuinely." You laughed softly under your breath. "I think living here would actually suck if it was with anyone else."
And you meant it. Somewhere between the late night conversations, dancing in your living room, cleaning up together every morning, or even those stressful study sessions, meals after class, and the way he constantly looked out for you without making it obvious—he became important.
"I love you." He admitted quietly.
You smiled lazily. "Good."
Before either of you could say anything else, the balcony door slid open again and Renjun stepped outside carrying a thick stack of cash in one hand and his phone in the other. His hair was damp from sweat, cheeks slightly flushed while the bass from inside spilled out behind him. "It's officially a full house." He announced immediately while shutting the door behind him with his foot. "No more people can physically fit in here."
Jaemin laughed quietly under his breath while taking the money from him. "That bad?"
Renjun pointed back toward the house. "I just watched three people share one chair. Someone's sitting on the kitchen floor drinking juice straight from the bottle. We've lost control."
You burst out laughing while leaning harder against the balcony railing.
"And." Renjun continued while gesturing toward the money. "This is tonight's total."
Jaemin looked down at the stack, eyebrows lifting slightly before he started flipping through the bills quickly out of habit. "I'll give you your share tomorrow." He promised.
"Perfect." Renjun replied immediately, already reaching for the balcony door again. "Because I'm done being responsible for tonight." He pointed between the two of you with a grin. "Try not to fall into the pool or make out while I'm gone."
Your eyes widened instantly. "Oh my god, get out."
Renjun laughed loudly while slipping back inside before either of you could throw something at him. The second the door shut again, silence settled back over the balcony again.
You looked over at Jaemin immediately. "He's so annoying."
"He thinks he's funny." Jaemin replied while still counting the money.
You shrugged. "He kinda is."
"Don't encourage him."
You laughed softly while watching him separate the cash into smaller stacks. It was strange seeing him like this—tipsy and smiling one second, then focused and organized the next. Even drunk, he still somehow kept everything together.
Eventually he peeled off part of the stack and held it toward you. "Your share."
You stared at it for a second before immediately shaking your head. "Tomorrow." You said while pushing his hand away lightly. "I genuinely cannot hold any money right now."
Jaemin laughed quietly. "Fair enough."
He shoved the money back into the pile, but before he could pocket it completely, the balcony door slammed open hard enough to make both of you jump. Haechan stood there slightly out of breath and for once, he looked completely serious. "Someone tried getting into that room." He said quickly.
The shift in Jaemin happened instantly, every trace of drunken softness disappeared from his face so fast it almost startled you.
"What?" He asked sharply. "Did they get in?"
"No, I stopped them." Haechan explained quickly. "But they were messing with the handle."
Jaemin's jaw tightened immediately. You'd seen him irritated before, frustrated, but this felt different.
"I'll handle it." He said already moving toward the door.
"Jaemin—" You started instinctively, but he was already halfway inside. And then he was gone.
You stayed outside longer than you meant to afterward, leaning against the railing while the cool air slowly cleared your head. At first you expected Jaemin to come back laughing about some drunk idiot, but he didn't. Time kept passing, the music inside kept going. And eventually the excitement from earlier started settling into exhaustion instead, your chest felt strangely empty now. You sighed before finally pushing yourself off the railing and heading downstairs to your flat.
You changed into an oversized shirt before curling up on the couch with the TV on low volume, letting random movies play just for background noise. Honestly, you weren't even tired anymore. Your mind kept replaying the night instead, the dancing, the balcony, the way Jaemin kept looking at you like he almost forgot there were other people in the room. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself with a quiet groan, this was bad, like... really, really bad. You were starting to want things you definitely shouldn't want.
Maybe thirty minutes later, soft knocks sounded against your door. Your head lifted immediately. The second you opened it, Jaemin stood there looking exhausted now, hoodie hanging loosely over his shoulders.
"There you are." You said softly before stepping aside automatically to let him in.
He walked inside with a sigh before dropping heavily onto the couch. "Sorry." He muttered while leaning his head back against the cushions. "People are annoying."
You smiled slightly while sitting back down beside him. "Did you fix it?"
"Yeah." He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Some drunk guy thought it'd be funny to mess with the door that said off limits."
There was still tension lingering in his shoulders though and you noticed it immediately. "You okay?" You asked quieter this time.
Jaemin looked over at you for a second before nodding once. "Yeah." He said, though he sounded more tired than anything else now. "Just killed the mood a little."
You hummed softly before handing him part of the blanket beside you. For a while the two of you just sat there quietly watching whatever random movie played across the TV screen. The party had been over for a while, you could faintly hear Haechan's screams telling people to leave even from down here.
Jaemin glanced over at you again, a small smile slowly pulling at his mouth. "Tonight was fun." He admitted.
You smiled immediately. "Really fun."
"You were dancing on tables." He said, shaking his head in fake disappointment, though you could see the amusement in his eyes.
"You were too." You said.
"That's different."
"It isn't." You smiled.
He laughed softly under his breath while shaking his head. The silence after that felt weird... maybe it was the leftover alcohol still faintly in your system, maybe exhaustion, maybe it was the way he looked sitting there beside you. Whatever it was, your hand slowly drifted across the couch cushion between you both before you could overthink it. And slowly—you held his hand. Jaemin's eyes flickered downward briefly, but he didn't pull away. Instead his fingers tightened around yours gently like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he wanted to do it too. Neither of you said anything, you just sat there shoulder to shoulder watching the movie while his thumb brushed absentmindedly once against your hand.
Then suddenly your door swung open. "There you guys are." Haechan announced dramatically while stumbling inside.
You let go of Jaemin's hand so fast it almost hurt your wrist. Haechan narrowed his eyes immediately, suspiciously.
Jaemin somehow looked completely unbothered. "You're still here?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping.
"My ride canceled on me." Haechan complained dramatically, before collapsing onto the armchair nearby. "Can I crash here?"
Jaemin sighed tiredly while rubbing his face. "Yeah, you can take my couch."
Haechan gasped loudly. "Wow, not even your bed? After everything we've been through?"
You laughed while Jaemin grabbed a pillow and threw it directly at his face. "Shut up."
Haechan laughed loudly while catching the pillow against his chest before immediately collapsing sideways against Jaemin's shoulder dramatically.
"I love you so much." He slurred emotionally. "You're actually a genius for making this place a party house."
Jaemin groaned. "You said this last weekend."
"Because it's true every weekend."
Still laughing quietly to yourself, you leaned against Jaemin too without really thinking about it and he let you. Haechan cuddled dramatically against one side of him while you rested quietly against the other, all three of you exhausted beneath the glow of the TV screen, while the house finally started going quiet.
═════════════════════════
You blinked awake slowly, face pressed awkwardly into the couch cushion as sunlight pushed through the gap in the curtains. Your neck hurt, your legs hurt, and honestly everything felt stiff in the worst way possible. For a few seconds you just laid there staring blankly ahead, trying to figure out where exactly you were before the sound of snoring somewhere nearby dragged you fully awake. You pushed yourself up slightly, immediately realizing why your body felt so uncomfortable.
Haechan was sprawled out across your rug, one arm thrown over his face while he snored loud enough to shake the room. And Jaemin was still sitting upright beside you on the couch, head tipped awkwardly against the cushion behind him like he'd fallen asleep mid conversation. Your legs were stretched across his lap, tangled beneath a blanket, and one of his hands rested loosely around your shin like he'd fallen asleep there without even realizing it. You sat up too quickly, your foot accidentally kicking Haechan in the side while your shoulder bumped hard into Jaemin's arm.
"What the fuck." Haechan groaned immediately, rubbing at his face while sitting up off the floor.
"Sorry." You muttered quickly, fixing your hair before turning toward Jaemin. "Oh my god, sorry."
"It's okay." Jaemin said through a yawn, dragging a hand slowly through his messy hair. His voice still sounded half asleep, low and rough in a way that made the room somehow feel quieter.
"FUCK!" Haechan suddenly shouted, scrambling to his feet so fast he almost slipped on the rug. "I'm missing my marketing class."
You and Jaemin both stared at him blankly for a second before slowly looking at each other.
"It's Sunday, Haechan." You said flatly.
He froze mid panic, blinking twice before relief covered his face. "Shit." He exhaled dramatically. "You're right."
Jaemin rubbed both hands over his face tiredly. "You're an idiot."
"Yeah, probably." Haechan yawned while grabbing his phone from the coffee table. "I think I'm gonna head home honestly. If I stay here any longer I'll actually die."
You laughed softly. "See you later."
"Later." Jaemin mumbled without lifting his head fully.
The front door shut behind Haechan a second later, and suddenly the apartment went completely too quiet. You stayed sitting there awkwardly for a second, pulling absentmindedly at the sleeve of your shirt mostly just to give yourself something to do. Honestly, you didn't really know how to act right now.
Last night kept replaying every time you looked at him for too long. The balcony, the dancing, falling asleep practically folded into him on the couch, holding his hand without even thinking about it. None of it felt embarrassing exactly, and that was the problem. You kept waiting for him to say something first, but he didn't. He just leaned back against the couch slowly waking up, sunlight catching along the side of his face while he blinked tiredly toward the ceiling. You cleared your throat awkwardly. "What a night honestly."
He finally looked over at you, a grin slowly pulling onto his face. "I know. Can't wait to do it again honestly."
You laughed quietly, relieved by how normal he sounded, like maybe you were the only one overthinking things. "Me too."
But even with the joking tone, there was still something sitting underneath everything now, not awkwardness exactly, just awareness. "You ready to clean right now or no?" You asked.
Jaemin groaned dramatically and dropped his head back against the couch. "Absolutely not."
"That means yes." You said, slapping his thigh as you stood up.
He stared at the spot, before looking up at you with a smile. "That means give me ten minutes to mourn my freedom first."
"Too late." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him up.
Cleaning after the parties had somehow become weirdly enjoyable. Or maybe it was just because it was with him. The two of you moved around the upstairs flat together throwing away cups, wiping down counters, opening windows to let clean fresh air into the house. Music played quietly from the speaker while sunlight filled the kitchen, making the disaster from last night feel less gross and more ridiculous.
Jaemin was standing on the counter trying to pull streamers off the ceiling while you tied up another trash bag full of bottles. "You know." He started while struggling with tape stuck to his fingers. "I think people should get fined for glitter. I didn't even buy glitter." He held his hand up dramatically. "Why is it everywhere?"
You laughed under your breath while dragging the trash bag toward the door. "Maybe stop inviting the glitter people"
He glanced at you. "That sounds discriminatory."
"You'll live." You said, shaking your head.
Jaemin finally jumped down from the counter, landing directly in front of you without you noticing. You turned around to face him, accidentally bumping into his chest. Your eyes lifted automatically before you could stop yourself, a quick breathless "sorry" leaving your mouth as you backed into the counter. He was still close though, way too close.
"There's something on your face." He laughed, looking at you.
You frowned slightly, wiping your cheek. "Where?"
Instead of answering, he reached forward and brushed his thumb lightly against the corner of your mouth. Your brain completely stalled for a second.
"There." He said casually before stepping around you like he hadn't just done anything at all.
Meanwhile you were still standing there holding a trash bag like an idiot. You cleared your throat quickly, forcing yourself to move again. "You're annoying."
Jaemin laughed quietly somewhere from behind. "You love me."
The response almost slipped out. It sat right there at the edge of your tongue before you stopped yourself. "Keep telling yourself that." You answered instead.
"I do every night." He responded.
By the time the apartment was mostly clean, both of you ended up sitting across from each other at the kitchen island drinking water in exhausted silence. Jaemin glanced over at you after a minute. "You wanna go get lunch?"
You almost said yes automatically, then stopped yourself. Because honestly you needed space. Not from him specifically, just from whatever this was slowly becoming before you accidentally let yourself fall too comfortably into it—if there was anything.
You looked down at your water bottle for a second before sighing softly. "I think I'm gonna take today as a mental health day."
Jaemin blinked once before nodding immediately. "Oh... okay."
And somehow him not making a big deal out of it made you feel even worse.
"I just need a reset day." You explained quickly. "I've been around people nonstop."
"No, I get it." He said easily while standing up from the stool. "Go relax."
You nodded slightly. "Thank you."
He grabbed his keys from his room, before moving to the front door, looking back at you briefly. "Text me if you need food or anything."
You laughed softly. "I think I can survive one afternoon alone."
"Debatable." He teased lightly before opening the door.
Then he left and the second the door shut behind him, the apartment suddenly felt way too quiet. You stayed standing there for a long moment staring blankly at nothing, leaning against the kitchen counter while sunlight filled the empty space around you. You knew exactly why you needed distance—it was him.
═════════════════════════
The next week, you spent most of the afternoon after classes locked in your room.
At first it had only been because of school. Or at least that was the excuse you gave yourself when the week started. Now it was Thursday evening and you barely left your room for anything besides food, and the occasional conversation upstairs before disappearing again. Every time music drifted faintly through the ceiling while Jaemin and the others he had invited hung out upstairs, you found yourself turning your headphones up louder instead.
Your desk was a complete mess. Open textbooks, notebooks filled with half finished notes, highlighted articles, empty coffee cups, assignments pulled up across three different tabs on your laptop. The semester had somehow caught up to you all at once. Between classes, work, and weekends that disappeared into loud music and flashing lights, everything felt backed up.
But if you were being honest, school wasn't the only reason you started hiding in here.
You started noticing things you weren't supposed to notice. The way your eyes gleamed when you looked at Jaemin. The way your heart stopped whenever he smiled at you for too long. The way being around him had started feeling like you slipped into something without realizing it until it was already happening. And maybe none of it actually meant anything. Maybe he was just naturally affectionate, maybe this was how he treated everyone he cared about. But the problem was that it didn't feel casual anymore, not after the pool, not after falling asleep practically curled against him on the couch, not after the hand holding that neither of you acknowledged afterward.
Ever since then, you started pulling away without fully meaning to. Spending more time out, staying in your room longer, keeping conversations shorter whenever you caught yourself relaxing too much around him. Because the friendship mattered too much. And if you crossed some invisible line and ruined the one stable thing you found here, you didn't think you'd forgive yourself for it.
You were halfway through typing when a knock sounded softly against your door. You glanced up automatically. "Come in."
The door cracked open slowly, and Jaemin leaned against the frame. "Hey."
Just hearing his voice after barely seeing him all week made something in your chest shift uncomfortably.
You looked back toward your screen for half a second before meeting his eyes again. "Hey."
For a moment neither of you spoke. He looked tired, dark hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it all day. Like usual, he somehow looked good without trying, which honestly felt irritating at this point.
"Do you wanna go get dinner?" He finally asked.
Your fingers paused above the keyboard. Normally you would've said yes immediately, it had became natural actually. Late night food runs, random errands together, sitting across from each other in booths talking about nothing for hours. You glanced back at the disaster covering your desk instead. "I can't." The answer came out quicker than you intended.
His expression shifted slightly. "Oh..."
Guilt hit you immediately. "I have way too much work to finish." You explained quickly, gesturing vaguely toward your laptop.
Jaemin nodded once, but he didn't leave. Instead his eyes wandered slowly around your room, taking in the mess on your desk, the laundry basket shoved near your closet, the fact that you clearly had been sitting here for hours.
Then his gaze settled back on you. "Is everything okay?"
You smiled automatically. "Yeah."
His brows pulled together slightly. "Really?"
You nodded again. "Yep."
He stayed quiet for a second before crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "You've barely been around all week, though."
Your eyes narrowed at your laptop screen, pretending to reread something. "I've been around."
"You've either been out somewhere or locked in here." His tone wasn't accusatory. If anything, that made it worse. He sounded worried, confused.
You exhaled quietly and leaned back in your chair. "I'm just trying to get my life organized."
His eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"
"The parties." The answer sounded stupid out loud immediately, but it wasn't completely untrue. You did feel behind. Every weekend blurred together lately, homework piled up faster than you could finish it, laundry stayed unfolded for days, your sleep schedule barely existed anymore. Still, that wasn't the full reason either. Because even now, sitting here barely looking at him, part of you was painfully aware of how easy it would be to say yes to dinner. How easy it'd be to fall right back into whatever this thing between you had quietly become. And that was exactly why you started avoiding him in the first place.
For a second Jaemin just stared at you, then his expression softened completely. "Do I need to shut the house down?" He asked quietly.
You blinked immediately. "What?"
"The parties." His voice stayed calm..serious. "If they're stressing you out this much, I can stop them."
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. "No." The word came out faster than you meant it to. "I'm serious."
"I'm serious too." The room fell quiet again. He shifted his weight slightly against the doorway before speaking again. "You don't have to keep doing this if it's making things harder for you."
You looked at him for a second, and the worst part was that he meant every word. He'd actually do it, shut the whole thing down without complaining if you asked him to. No argument, no resentment...nothing. "No." You repeated more gently this time. "It's not necessary."
"Are you sure?"
You nodded once, but Jaemin still looked unconvinced. "I'm your friend before any of that." He said quietly.
The words landed harder than they should've. Friend—right, exactly. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. "I know." You turned your chair more toward him fully. "Look, this is just me. I know you haven't seen it much, but I get weird about school sometimes. I hate feeling behind." You laughed softly under your breath. "This would've happened even without the parties, I promise."
He watched you carefully for another second like he was trying to figure out whether you actually believed that yourself. Then finally he nodded once. "Okay."
He turned slightly toward the hallway. And suddenly guilt hit you so hard you almost called him back without thinking. Because this wasn't fair either. You were the one creating distance, and he didn't even know why. "Wait." You called out suddenly.
Jaemin paused immediately, glancing back over his shoulder. Your eyes dropped toward your laptop screen again, the blinking cursor, the unfinished assignment. Honestly... it could wait another hour. And maybe staying locked in your room all week hadn't actually helped anything anyway.
You shut the laptop slowly with a sigh. "I probably need a break anyway." A small laugh escaped you. "I'll go."
Something relaxed in his expression instantly. Not dramatically, just enough that you noticed. "Okay."
A small smile appeared afterward, easy and genuine in the way his smiles always were around you. And despite everything, despite how hard you'd been trying not to make this worse for yourself, you felt yourself smiling back automatically. For the first time all week, things felt normal again.
═════════════════════════
Finally, it was Friday.
By eleven the house already felt alive, music shaking through the walls while people flooded upstairs and spilled into the backyard. The pool lights reflected against the water, people yelling over each other while drinks sloshed around in red cups. You understood why people got addicted to places like this and couldn't stop. Not even the alcohol part, just the feeling of it. The noise, the movement, the way nobody was really thinking too hard about themselves for a few hours.
You were already tipsy by the time the hosts gathered in the kitchen. Haechan had one arm thrown around Renjun's shoulder while Jisung leaned against the counter laughing at something Jaemin said. Meanwhile Jaemin was pouring shots with complete confidence for someone whose eyes were already glossy.
"This..." Haechan announced dramatically while raising his shot glass. "Is for another successful weekend of influencing alcoholism."
"Cheers." Renjun smiled.
You laughed under your breath while lifting your own shot. "To financial stability."
"That too." Jaemin agreed with a grin.
The glasses clinked together before all of you took the shots at once, you winced immediately at the burn while Haechan coughed dramatically beside you. "Jesus Christ." He groaned.
"You're literally the one who bought it." Jaemin laughed.
"Yeah well I regret that decision... partly."
The night blurred faster after that. Music pounded through the house so loudly it almost felt physical, bass vibrating through the floor beneath your shoes while bodies crowded every room shoulder to shoulder. Heat clung to your skin from the packed living room, lights flashing across moving faces while people shouted over songs. At some point you ended up dancing with Haechan again in the middle of the living room again while he screamed lyrics directly into your face despite knowing maybe four words.
"Oh my god." You laughed breathlessly while he grabbed both your hands dramatically and spun you beneath the lights. "You're actually horrible at this."
"I bring energy!" He defended loudly.
He immediately grabbed your shoulders and forced you into another dramatic spin anyway. You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt. And weirdly enough, you felt lighter tonight, more detached in a good way. A few weekends ago you were still too aware of yourself. Watching yourself from outside your body almost. Thinking too hard about drinking, about your past, about whether you looked stupid dancing. Tonight you didn't really care, you just existed inside the moment for once.
Then your eyes drifted across the room automatically and landed on Jaemin. He was near the kitchen now, laughing while dancing loosely with some girl you vaguely recognized from campus. Her arms rested around his shoulders while he spun her carelessly beneath the lights, grin relaxed. Something unpleasant twisted low in your stomach immediately.
Which was stupid...completely stupid. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He was hosting a party, talking to people, dancing—existing normally. Still, your chest tightened anyway when the girl leaned closer. Then he looked up, straight at you. The smile on his face shifted slightly the second your eyes met across the room. Haechan was still yelling lyrics beside you, but suddenly you barely heard him anymore. Jaemin's attention stayed on you for another second too long before the girl touched his arm again, pulling him back into conversation.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before following your gaze across the room. "Oh my god." He said, looking delighted. "You two are actually painful."
"What are you talking about?" You scoffed.
Haechan just grinned before shoving another drink into your hand. "Drink."
You rolled your eyes, but took it anyway.
The next hour disappeared after that. More dancing, somebody nearly breaking the speaker. Haechan standing on the couch screaming lyrics while Renjun threatened to physically remove him from the house. At one point Jaemin got dragged into the middle of the living room by three random girls and immediately started dancing again while people around him cheered. And somehow your eyes kept finding each other anyway.
Every crowded room eventually pulled you back toward him, every time you laughed too hard, he was already looking, every time he disappeared into another group of people, you noticed. And every time someone else touched him, something flickered low in your eyes before you forced yourself to ignore it.
Eventually you slipped away from the dance floor toward the kitchen, cheeks warm from alcohol and movement while you pushed your hair back from your face.
Jisung stood behind the bar pouring drinks with surprising concentration.
"There she is." He said when he noticed you approaching. "You look significantly more alive tonight."
You laughed softly while leaning against the counter. "I think I finally adapted."
"What do you want?" He replied with a small smile while grabbing another cup.
"Something stronger."
He smiled immediately. "That tells me nothing."
"Something that will keep this up." You said, pointing at yourself.
"That narrows it down slightly." He chuckled.
You rolled your eyes while laughing under your breath.
He mixed the drink quickly before sliding it toward you. "You surviving?"
"Yeah." You smiled into the rim of the cup before taking a sip.
"Mhm." He glanced toward the living room. "Jaemin seems happy too."
Your eyes flickered toward the crowd automatically. Jaemin was laughing at something Renjun said now, one arm resting loosely around the same girl's shoulders from earlier while people crowded around him naturally like they always did. And then he looked over and caught you staring immediately. This time he didn't even pretend not to notice. His eyes stayed on yours for a second longer than they should have before he slowly pulled away from the girl beside him completely.
You looked back down at your drink. "Yeah." You said quieter this time. "He does."
Jisung noticed it, you knew he did. But instead of teasing you about it like he probably would've a week ago, he just gave you a little smile before turning back toward someone else asking for drinks. You took your cup and slipped outside onto the balcony. The cold air hit your skin instantly, cooling some of the warmth sitting beneath it. Below, people crowded around the pool while music echoed across the backyard in waves. Inside, the party still moved endlessly behind the doors, voices blending together into noise.
You sat on one of the chairs quietly, sipping your drink while looking out at everything. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been this happy since first semester of freshman year, before everything got messy. Before parties stopped being fun and started feeling dangerous. It was strange thinking about how terrified you had been moving in here, now this house somehow felt more like home than anywhere else had in years.
The balcony door slid open behind you, you already knew it was Jaemin before you turned around. He stepped outside with a cigarette tucked between his fingers, sleeves pushed up while the music spilled out briefly onto the balcony before the door shut behind him again. "There you are." He said while walking over beside you.
You smiled slightly into your cup. "Needed air."
"Me too."
He walked over beside you before sitting down on the other chair, lighting the cigarette. The flame briefly illuminated his face in the dark. You watched him quietly for a second. "You smoke when you're stressed."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "You noticed that?"
"You only do it when things get crazy."
Jaemin laughed quietly while exhaling smoke away from you. "Maybe you know me too well."
"Well, maybe you're predictable."
"That's rude." He chuckled.
You smiled into your drink again.
The conversation drifted naturally, the same way it always did with him. Talking to Jaemin never really felt forced, even silence with him somehow felt easy. But eventually something shifted. His eyes started lingering longer every time they met yours, dropping toward your mouth before returning back up again. And you knew you were doing the same thing. The tension settled between you slowly instead of all at once, like both of you had been walking around it for weeks and suddenly neither of you knew how to step around it anymore.
"You're really pretty tonight." He said suddenly.
You looked over at him immediately. "I'm probably sweaty."
"That doesn't change anything." He smiled.
You laughed softly under your breath while looking away toward the backyard again. "You're drunk."
"So are you." He said, taking another drag from his cigarette.
You shrugged. "Fair."
Neither of you moved, you just sat there looking at each other too long. The kind of staring that stopped feeling casual after a while. Your pulse jumped slightly when his eyes dropped toward your lips again. Then suddenly Jaemin straightened too quickly. "I should go back inside." He said, putting out his cigarette abruptly.
You blinked once, thrown off by how abrupt the shift was. But before he could move past you, your hand wrapped around his wrist instinctively. "There's nobody asking for you in there right now." You said quietly.
Jaemin stopped moving immediately, his eyes dropped to your hand around his wrist. Then back to your face. The look on his face made butterflies settle in your stomach.
He stared at you for another second before speaking carefully. "I have to go right now, Y/n." He said, like he was trying very hard to stay in control of himself.
You held his gaze for a moment longer before finally shrugging lightly and letting go. "Okay."
Then you lifted your drink casually toward your mouth like your heart wasn't suddenly beating way too fast. Jaemin nodded once before disappearing back inside, the balcony suddenly felt colder afterward. You exhaled slowly while leaning back against the chair again. That was probably for the best honestly. But then literally seconds later the balcony door opened again, and you looked over instinctively.
Jaemin walked straight toward you this time, fast. "You need to stop drinking." He said while reaching for your cup.
You laughed and pulled it away quickly. "No I don't—"
His hand missed completely. Between the alcohol and bad footing, he stumbled forward awkwardly, catching himself against the chair on both sides of you.
A startled laugh escaped you. "Careful."
But he didn't laugh back, he just stared at you. Close enough now that you could smell alcohol on his breath mixed with smoke and the clean scent of his cologne underneath it. His face was inches from yours that your heart started pounding so hard it almost hurt. He started pushing himself back up instinctively, like he realized how close he gotten. But before he could move away, your hands grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him back down.
Jaemin froze completely, his eyes searching yours for a second, like he was giving you one last chance to stop this. "Are you gonna regret this?" He asked quietly.
For a second, neither of you moved. The music from inside was muffled through the balcony door, voices drifted faintly from somewhere downstairs. But out here, everything felt strangely still.
You shook your head and his gaze dropped to your mouth. Something shifted in his expression then—something that looked close to relief, like he had been waiting for you to stop him. And when you didn't, the distance between you suddenly felt impossible. His hand lifted slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face before settling against your jaw. The touch was almost gentle, somehow that was worse.
Neither of you said anything, you just stared at each other.
Then his eyes flickered back to yours one last time, as if asking again without words. His lips touched yours slowly at first, carefully, but then weeks of restraint shattered. Your fingers tightened instinctively into the front of his hoodie while his hand slid firmly against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you deeper almost immediately. Both of you had already imagined this too many times to pretend otherwise now. The kiss deepened almost immediately, not rushed, not reckless—just impossible to stop.
You kissed him harder, tongue sliding into his mouth without even realizing it, one of your hands sliding into his hair and the small breath that escaped him sent butterflies into your stomach violently. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up and closer until there wasn't space left between you anymore.
And honestly it felt exactly like you knew it would. Every look across crowded rooms, every lingering touch, every moment spent trying not to think about each other too hard. It all crashed together there on the balcony. Jaemin kissed you like he'd been holding himself back for weeks, maybe months even. And maybe he had been. A soft sound escaped you when his hand tightened slightly against your waist before you could stop it.
"Fuck." He muttered quietly against your mouth before kissing you again immediately.
Your pulse was completely out of control now. Nothing existed outside of him for a second, just him.
Then suddenly— "Oh my god."
You both broke apart immediately. Haechan stood frozen in the balcony doorway staring between the two of you with the most shocked expression imaginable. For a second nobody spoke, then Haechan slowly dragged a hand down his face. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that."
You immediately buried your face in your hands laughing while Jaemin cursed quietly under his breath beside you.
"Anyways." Haechan continued like this was a completely normal interruption. "Renjun's asking for you."
Jaemin nodded quickly. "Okay, one minute."
Haechan pointed between both of you dramatically with a smirk. "Disgusting." Then he disappeared back inside.
The second the door shut again, you burst into laughter. "Oh my god." You laughed breathlessly. "We actually just did that?"
Jaemin finally laughed too, rubbing his hand over his face once. "Yeah." He admitted with a grin he couldn't hide. "We did. Are you okay?"
You looked at him for another second before smiling helplessly. "I haven't been better honestly." You laughed softly under your breath. "Are you?"
He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "Couldn't be better."
For a second neither of you said anything again, just smiling at each other like idiots. Then Jaemin glanced back toward the balcony door reluctantly. "I should probably see what Renjun wants."
You nodded. "Okay."
He turned slightly toward the door, but before he could leave, the words slipped out naturally. "Love you."
Jaemin paused immediately. You watched the surprise flicker briefly across his face for half a second before it softened into something else entirely. Then he smiled.
"I love you too."
And he disappeared back inside while you stayed sitting there on the balcony, smiling into your drink like an idiot while the music shook the walls behind you.
═════════════════════════
You didn't wake up until almost eleven the next morning. And even then, you barely moved.
You stayed tangled in your blankets staring at the ceiling for a long time, phone somewhere beside you playing random videos you weren't actually paying attention to. Every once in a while your mind drifted back to last night and your stomach turned all over again. Nothing about it felt wrong, it felt so natural that it almost scared you more.
You ended up staying in your room the entire day, around two you ordered food, around four you accidentally fell asleep again. Every time you thought about getting up, you found another reason not to. Another video, another nap, another ten minutes staring at the wall. By six, the house upstairs was strangely quiet. You laid still for another couple minutes before finally forcing yourself up. The upstairs flat smelled faintly like candles and leftover alcohol when you walked in. The TV played quietly in the background while Jaemin sat stretched across the couch in gray sweats and a hoodie, flipping lazily through channels like this was any normal Saturday.
His face lit up immediately when he noticed you. "I thought you died." He said with a grin, sitting up slightly.
You laughed softly while walking over. "Almost."
"You disappeared all day." He said jokingly, but there was something else underneath it. Curiosity or relief maybe? Like he actually was wondering where you were.
You rubbed at your temples dramatically as you wandered toward the couch. "I needed recovery time."
"From partying?" He teased.
You looked at him. "From life."
He laughed, the familiar sound settled some of the weird nervous energy that had been following you around since waking up. You dropped onto the couch beside him, tucking one leg underneath yourself while he flipped to another channel neither of you actually cared about. For a minute the room settled into silence, the kind that had always existed between the two of you—at least the way it used to feel. Now every little thing seemed impossible to ignore. The way his knee brushed yours when he shifted, the way his eyes lingered whenever you spoke. That same look he'd been giving you since last night, softer now, less subtle. It should've made you nervous, instead it mostly just made you hyperaware of everything.
"You look pretty." He said casually after a minute.
You turned toward him immediately, the compliment came out so casually it took a second to register. "What?"
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You look pretty."
You playfully rolled your eyes automatically. "You saw me yesterday."
He shrugged. "Still true today."
You smiled, but he could tell you were slightly forcing the normalcy of it all. You could feel it too honestly. You weren't uncomfortable around him necessarily, but everything felt heavier now.
"I'll be right back." He said suddenly before standing from the couch.
You watched him disappear toward the hallway before returning a minute later holding a thick stack of cash.
Your eyebrows lifted instantly. "Oh?"
"Your cut." He said while dropping it into your lap.
You stared down at it. "Jesus Christ."
"There's four hundred there." He said.
You looked back up at him immediately. "Keep it and put it toward rent. I'll just give you the other hundred later."
He shook his head instantly. "No."
"Jaemin—"
"Rent's on me this month." He interrupted casually.
You blinked at him. "What?"
"You've been a doll about all this." He said with a shrug. "Just take it."
"That's too much." You said, shaking your head.
He hummed slightly, before smiling slightly. "It's not."
You tried handing it back, but he physically shoved the money back into your hands with an annoyed look. "Take it before I get offended." He sighed.
You laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're keeping it."
The confidence in his voice suggested he already won the argument before it started. You sighed dramatically and tossed the money beside you on the couch. "Fine, thank you."
"There we go." He grinned. "That's better."
He leaned back against the couch again looking far too pleased with himself. "Tonight's probably gonna be the biggest party yet by the way." He said.
You frowned slightly. "Why?"
"That other party house got shut down before they could even host tonight." He said normally.
Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"
Jaemin nodded, looking genuinely excited now. "Cops apparently showed up before it even started, busted them."
"Lucky us." You laughed.
"Very lucky us." He agreed immediately.
You shook your head while laughing quietly. The excitement in his voice was almost contagious. This had stopped being some random side hustle and turned into something he was genuinely proud of. Before you could say anything else, he suddenly pushed himself off the couch. "I'm getting snacks. Want something?"
You shook your head. "No, I'm good."
He froze for a moment, before looking at you seriously. "You can't drink tonight if you have an empty stomach."
You paused, before scratching your forehead. "Um..." You said in a nod. "Just bring my chips then."
"Understood." He said, walking to the kitchen.
A few minutes later he came back balancing chips, candy, drinks—and an almost empty bottle of vodka.
You spotted it immediately. "Oh no."
Jaemin looked down at it like he forgotten he grabbed it. "Wait." He held it up slightly. "This probably has like six shots left."
You laughed while pulling your knees closer to your chest. "Your point?"
"My point." He said while grabbing shot glasses seemingly from nowhere. "Is should we finish it just to get rid of it? Save some money."
You stared at him for a second before smiling slowly. "Honestly, you're right."
The first shot burned, the second one somehow didn't. By the third both of you were already laughing at things that genuinely weren't funny. The bottle sat abandoned on the coffee table while some random game show played on the TV. Jaemin had shifted closer at some point without either of you acknowledging it. Your legs were tangled together across the couch cushions while he kept stealing handfuls of chips from your lap despite having his own bag. "You're actually the worst person to drink with." You informed him while trying to pull your chip bag back.
Jaemin immediately tightened both arms around it. "Finders keepers."
"They're mine." You said, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
"They're ours now." He said, taking them from you.
You laughed while trying to yank it back. The movement nearly sent both of you sideways into the couch cushions. "You're annoying." You said rolling your eyes.
"You like me." He said, grinning.
"Debatable." You said, tilting your head.
He raised his brows teasingly before shrugging. "You spent all day hiding in your room thinking about me."
Your entire body froze as your face dropped immediately, your head whipping towards him. "What?" You said, voice cracking slightly.
Jaemin blinked slowly, for a second he looked genuinely confused by your reaction. "I was just joking." Then he paused, letting out a short laugh. "Were you?"
"Shut up, no." You said way too fast. "I didn't know if you were."
"I wasn't even serious." Jaemin said with a simple shrug before smiling. "You kinda freaked out there are you sure?"
"Yes." You said dragging out the word. "Just want to make sure we're on the same page here."
"And what page is that?" He asked.
"Jaemin." You said, letting out a small forced laugh.
"Yes, Y/n?" He said, voice low and sultry.
Your mouth went agape at his tone, no words coming out. You blinked a few times, before shaking your head. "Just shut the fuck up."
His eyes widened slightly as he pointed at you, letting out a soft teasing gasp. "Did you just curse?"
You widened your eyes mockingly, before shrugging. "Oops."
A laugh escaped him as he shook his head and looked back toward the TV. "Being locked up all day thinking about me is taking a toll, huh?" He said in a teasing tone.
You immediately grabbed a throw pillow and immediately hit him with it.
By the time the front door opened and everyone finally arrived, both of you were definitely tipsy. Haechan stopped mid step the second he looked at the two of you sprawled together on the couch. His eyes moved from you , to Jaemin, to the empty vodka bottle, then back to both of you again. "...Are y'all drunk already?" He asked slowly.
"A little." Jaemin answered immediately.
You nodded beside him, with a loose smile, holding two fingers up. "Tiny bit."
Haechan looked genuinely concerned for a second before his eyes flickered toward the empty vodka bottle on the table. Then toward Jaemin, something unreadable crossed his face briefly before he covered it up with a laugh. "Jesus Christ."
Renjun walked in behind him carrying cases of drinks. "You heard about the other house?"
Jaemin sat up slightly immediately with a smile. "Yeah, they got shut down."
"Before the party even started." Haechan added while leaning against the counter. "Kinda crazy honestly."
You noticed the way he glanced at Jaemin when he said it, quick and subtle. And Jaemin noticed it as well. For a second you thought he might respond, but he just grabbed another chip and pointed toward the speaker. "Somebody fix the playlist, it sounds depressing."
And just like that the conversation shifted again.
Hours later the house had completely lost whatever sense of order it started the night with. Every room upstairs was packed, people packed shoulder to shoulder through the living room, kitchen, hallways, even sitting on the stairs because there was nowhere else left to go. Music pounded through the speakers hard enough that you could feel the bass vibrating through the floor beneath your feet.
Outside wasn't any better. The backyard was overflowing, bodies crowded around the pool beneath flashing lights while somebody butchered song lyrics loud enough to be heard over the music itself. At some point you stopped paying attention to time entirely. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that every weekend seemed to blur together lately until hours disappeared without warning. Either way, one minute you had been dancing in the living room and the next you found yourself half collapsed beside Jaemin and Haechan near the kitchen island, laughing so hard your stomach actually hurt.
"No listen." Haechan insisted dramatically while holding his drink with both hands. "You guys have to hear me out, but this house would be significantly better if I lived here too."
"That is not true." Jaemin argued immediately.
"It is." Haechan said loud over the music.
You groaned into your cup while laughing. "Why are we even talking about this?"
"Because he's wrong." Haechan said while pointing aggressively at Jaemin.
"I'm objectively correct." Jaemin said, rolling his eyes, looking at you with a loose smile.
"Nobody who's ever used the phrase objectively correct has actually been correct."
Jaemin gasped dramatically while Haechan nearly fell while laughing.
You shook your head and slid off the counter before they could drag you into whatever argument this was becoming. "I have to pee."
"Thanks, because we definitely needed to know that." Haechan muttered into his drink.
You flipped him off with a laugh as you walked away. The farther you got from the kitchen, the louder everything somehow became. Someone shoved past you carrying three drinks, somebody else was laughing so hard they could barely stand.
You rubbed your eyes briefly. The alcohol had settled beneath your skin by now, enough that everything felt softer around the edges. Not completely out of control, just fuzzy. You reached for one handle absentmindedly and pushed it open, stumbling inside and turning on the light, then froze. The room, the one Jaemin had specifically told you not to go into. Your stomach dropped so quickly it almost sobered you up, you didn't even have to pee anymore. You should've closed it immediately, instead you stood there, just looking— your feet couldn't move.
The room wasn't what you thought it would be. You honestly expected something much creepier, but it looked...normal. A small couch sat against one wall with a blanket tossed carelessly across it, bookshelves held random clutter. A desk with a laptop, papers, a journal and desk supplies sprawled around.
Your eyes drifted toward the wall covered in pictures, there were dozens of them, like a collage. Jaemin, Haechan, Renjun, people you recognized from campus. Pictures from parties, beach trips, random blurry moments that looked years old. Then your eyes caught on someone unfamiliar, a guy.
You frowned slightly as you stepped closer. There were multiple pictures of him scattered throughout the collage. Him and Jaemin standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing, arms thrown around each other. One photo in particular caught your attention immediately. They looked comfortable, the kind of comfortability people only become after years of knowing each other.
Your brows furrowed slightly, you never seen him before, never even heard Jaemin mention him—but his face looked so damn recognizable for some reason. Then your eyes moved lower. An old party flyer that you remembered too well, the other party house. The one everyone always talked about, everyone but Jaemin. The one you remember texting your friends how excited you were about the party that night. The one that almost killed you.
Before you could think too hard about it, somebody shouted loudly somewhere inside the house and panic filled you instantly. You shut the door fast and hurried away down the hallway before anyone could see you. You headed outside on the balcony trying to steady yourself with fresh air. You leaned both hands against the chair you sat in and took a slow breath. Your thoughts still felt fuzzy from drinking, but the room stayed stuck in your head. The pictures, the flyer, the guy you've never seen before—something about all of it felt important.
The balcony door opened behind you. "There you are."
You didn't need to turn around to know it was Jaemin. His voice had become embarrassingly easy to recognize lately, you looked back. He was already walking toward you, one hand shoved into his pocket, hair slightly messy from people constantly grabbing at him all night. "You just disappeared."
"Yeah." You laughed softly. "I got kinda sick so I needed air."
His expression changed instantly from amusement to concern. "Wait, are you okay?"
"Yes." You promised. "I didn't even throw up. I just needed a second."
His shoulders visibly relaxed. "Okay good."
A smile crossed your face before you could stop it. You liked that he worried, you probably liked it more than you should. A moment later he pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, tapping it lightly on his head before pulling one out and lighting it. The flame briefly illuminated his face before disappearing. You watched him for a second before standing up and stealing it directly from his fingers.
"What the hell?" Jaemin blinked at you while you took a hit. "You smoke now?" He asked amused.
You took a drag, but coughed immediately a small smile creeping on your face from the embarrassment. But you blew out the smoke and pretended you hadn't. "Drunk cigs don't count." You answered before handing it back, your fingers brushing.
His eyes stayed on your mouth a second too long before he took another drag himself. The whole thing felt strangely intimate. Passing it back and forth between you while music pulsed faintly through the walls behind you. For a few minutes neither of you said much, but eventually he looked over at you. And whatever amusement had been sitting in his expression faded slightly. "Can we talk?"
You nodded slowly, taking a puff from the cigarette. "Sure, about what?"
"About last night." He said.
Your eyes immediately lit up before you could stop them, you knew they did because his mouth twitched. "What about it?" You asked.
"About Haechan." He said.
That answer caught you off guard a little. "Is everything okay with him, what's up?"
"Everything's okay with him." He said, nodding. "What he walked into last night is what I mean."
You leaned against the railing, letting out a light chuckle shaking your head. "What, has he not seen two people kiss. What's the issue?"
"He's just asking questions that I don't know the answers to." Jaemin answered quickly, his eyes saying on yours.
"What kind of questions?" You asked, taking another drag.
He paused for a moment. "Like if we were planning to hook up."
You rolled your eyes without thinking, putting the cigarette out. "Does it matter? It's none of his business." You answered honestly.
"True." Jaemin reassured with a shrug.
"Then why are we discussing it?"
He straightened up a bit, staring at you. "I guess I want the answer too."
You turned to him fully, a small smile appearing on your face. "Why?" You questioned teasingly, inching closer to him.
"If I was going to hookup with one of my best friends then that's something I want to know." He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before resting back on your eyes. "Is that so awful?"
"It's not." You said, eyeing his arm that was resting along the rail, finger tapping slowly.
Your fingers brushed his slowly. You let your fingertips trail lightly across his hand, then up his wrist, his eyes followed the movement.
When you looked back up, he was already staring at you. The look in his eyes made your pulse quicken.
He turned his hand over and caught your wrist gently. Just enough to stop you, enough to pull you half a step closer. "Then answer it."
His eyes closed for half a second, then opened them again. You hated how much power that realization gave you. So instead of answering, you smiled and stayed silent. His head tipped slightly toward yours, not enough to close the distance, but you noticed. You hummed, your eyes not leaving his as your hand wrapped further back along his neck.
His eyes flickered down to your mouth again.
"You're avoiding the question." He said quietly.
You smiled. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" He let out a short quiet laugh. "That's all I get?"
"What answer are you hoping for?" You asked.
His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. "I don't know."
You laughed immediately. "That's a lie."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.
"You know exactly what answer you're hoping for." You continued, watching him, fingers slightly rubbing against his neck.
For a second neither of you said anything.
The music from inside felt miles away. The world kept moving around you, but neither of you seemed capable of looking anywhere else. Finally, he shook his head, exhaling. "This is a bad idea."
You tilted your head. "What is?"
He looked down at your lips again before looking back up. "This."
"I haven't agreed to anything yet." You said teasingly, pulling his head back lightly by his hair.
He let out a shallow breath, lips parting slightly as his eyes gleamed. "So then stop doing this to me. Hurry up and say no." He said, tone low—he already knew you weren't.
But you just let out a giggle. "Fine." You said, pulling your arms away from him. "No."
He looked almost disappointed for a moment before he just smiled, nodding slightly as he backed away from you. You walked towards the balcony door, opening it. Then you looked over your shoulder at him. "But if you had asked me last night, I wouldn't have said no."
He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stared at you for a second with a grin that looked dangerously pleased with itself. Then finally he pointed inside. "Go get Haechan."
You nodded, going inside and shutting the door behind you. You honestly didn't look for someone so hard in your life, and of course for the first time in forever you couldn't find him. You rubbed your face annoyed, scanning the crowd for his face until finally you found him crammed into a tight corner with a girl—you didn't care, you only had one thing on your mind right now. You pushed through the crowd, going up to him. "Jaemin needs you." You said, words rushing out.
Haechan paused, not breaking eye contact from the girl that was in front of him. "Give me a minute."
"Haechan." You said serious, though the word felt slurred a bit. "Right now."
He turned to you, an annoyed look on his face, before rolling his eyes. "Whatever."
You didn't take any time pulling him into the crowd towards the balcony. Jaemin turned the second you walked through the door, not wasting a breath. "Can you take over for the night?" He asked Haechan.
"I'd need to stay over for that." Haechan said.
Jaemin nodded. "That's fine."
"You can take my couch." You added in quickly.
Haechan shook his head, a small frown appearing on his face. "If it was any other night I'd be fine with it, but—"
"Haechan." Jaemin said serious.
Haechan scratched the back of his head, genuinely looking confused. "What's up with everyone saying my name like that? Why do you need me to even take over?"
"Me and Y/n have to talk, and it's probably going to take a while." Jaemin said, giving you a glance.
Haechan's face dropped, disappointed as he turned to Jaemin. "Y'all are interrupting my night just to talk?"
But then he froze, staring at Jaemin's eyes that weren't on him. He turned around to look at you, your eyes on Jaemin, biting the corner of your lip. He turned back to Jaemin swiftly, before his head jerked back to you once again.
"Oh." He said, letting out a small laugh, pointing between the two of you. " I see what this is.
He paused for another second, brows furrowed in thought before he turned to Jaemin. "Fine whatever, I'll take over for the night."
Haechan let out another short laugh, shaking his head while leaving the balcony.
Jaemin grabbed your hand immediately and led you back inside. Straight through the crowded hallway, straight to his room, the muffled chatter of people fading into the background as he shoved his bedroom door open and kicked it shut with a heavy thud. The moment the lock clicked, you turned to him, your body colliding with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss. Your fingers tangled desperately in the soft strands of his hair, pulling him closer, trying to eliminate any space between you. You could taste the desperation in him, the way he groaned deep in his throat, a sound of pure hunger.
"I've been wanting to do this all night." You murmured against his lips, your voice a shaky, breathless wreck. You didn't wait for an answer before you kissed him again, your tongue sliding against his.
Jaemin responded by sliding his hands down to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he raised you up slightly, pinning you against the door. "You have no idea." He started, voice an octave lower. "I've been imagining you in my bed since the second I saw you tonight."
He broke the kiss, but only to trail a path of kisses along your jawline. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck, letting out a soft involuntary whimper as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He didn't just kiss, he nipped, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send a jolt straight to your core.
You arched into him, your breath hitching. "Jaemin... please." You whispered, your hands sliding down to the hem of his shirt.
You gripped the fabric, tugging it upward, palms finally meeting his bare skin. The muscles of his chest and back were firm under your touch, and you felt him tremble beneath your fingertips. He let out a low, groan, his hands roaming over your curves with an intensity that left you dizzy. Impatiently you pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it blindly across the room, pausing for a moment, eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso—the lean muscle, the way his chest heaved with every heavy breath. You leaned in, pressing slow kisses across him, tongue darting out to taste his skin.
"Touch me." You whispered against his skin. "I need you to touch me everywhere."
His eyes darkened, a glint appearing as his hands slid upward, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs circling your nipples through the cloth. He grinned before grabbing the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. You stood there in your bra, chest rising, and the way he looked at you made you feel completely exposed and desired. He hummed, a low sound of approval, before reaching around to unclasp the hook. As the fabric fell away and your breasts spilled free, he let out a shaky breath. He cupped them in his hands, his thumbs teasing your nipples.
You let out a long breath, head falling back against the door. He seized the opportunity, leaning in to take one nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip before sucking hard, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to you. Your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him tighter against you.
"You're so perfect." He murmured against your skin. "Everything about you is fucking perfect."
His hands moved down, unbuttoning your pants with trembling fingers and sliding the zipper down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear tugging them down your legs. You stepped out of them, standing fully bare before him. Jaemin stopped, his gaze traveling slowly from your feet up to your eyes, taking in every dip and curve of your body.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't even think straight looking at you."
He didn't let you stay standing for long. He guided you toward the bed, pushing you gently. He didn't climb on top immediately, he knelt between your spread thighs, his eyes locked onto yours. He began kissing his way down your body, starting at your collarbone and working his way lower. He lingered at your stomach, his warm breath making you shiver, before he pressed lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
You were squirming beneath him, hips lifting off the bed instinctively. "Stop teasing me." You panted, voice breaking. "I want you inside me so bad, I need to feel you."
He looked up at you, his face flushed. "You want me?" He asked, his voice deep. "Tell me exactly how much you want me."
"More than anything." You gasped, reaching down to guide him. "Now."
He quickly stripped off his own pants and boxers. When he sprang free, you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of him. He crawled onto the bed, settling himself between your thighs. He rubbed the head of his cock against your slick folds, teasing your entrance, letting you feel the size of him.
"You're so wet for me." He groaned. "Look at how much you want this."
He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed forward slowly, inch by inch. You let out a long, drawn out moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your walls stretch around him. "Oh my god." You gasped. "You feel so good."
He stopped halfway, letting both of you adjust. "You okay?" He whispered, his voice suddenly tender despite the lust. "Too much? Tell me if it's too much."
"No." You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Don't stop."
He pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself deep. You both cried out, a mix of relief and overwhelming pleasure. You dug your nails into his shoulders, breath coming in short gasps.
"Oh god... you're so tight." He panted, resting his forehead against yours. "You feel incredible."
He began to move, a slow steady rhythm. Then he pulled back until he was almost out, and drove back in with a heavy force that made you gasp. He watched your face intently, his eyes searching yours.
"Does that feel good?" He murmured, his voice vibrating through you. "Do you like it when I go deep like that?"
"Yes... yes, right there." You cried out, you hips rolling to meet his. "More baby... please, give me more."
He obliged, picking up the pace. The rhythm shifted from slow and sensual to something more urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, moans and heavy breathing along with it. He was pounding into you now, his hips slamming against yours with every powerful thrust.
"Fuck, I can't get enough of you." He groaned, face hovering over yours.
You whimpered, head thrashing on the pillow. "Harder, baby. Fuck me harder."
He let out a loud moan as he sped up, his thrusts becoming relentless and deep. You felt the pressure building in your lower belly, tension tightening with every stroke. He noticed your breathing change, the way your muscles were beginning to twitch around him.
"You're close, aren't you?" He groaned out, a smirk on his lips. "I can feel you shaking. Cum for me baby, let it out."
"Fuck... I'm almost—" You screamed as he shifted his angle, hitting a spot deep inside that made your entire body seize.
"Look at me while I fuck you. I want to see your face when you cum." He said as he continued to pound into you, his hand reached down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight fast circles. You met his eyes, locking gazes as you felt a sudden burst of pleasure, your muscles clenching around him that seemed to pull him even deeper.
"Yeah, just like that." Jaemin whimpered, his voice clipped. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could, his body stiffening as he let out a loud, moan, emptying himself inside you.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, he pulled out carefully and collapsed next to you on the bed. He held you in his arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"That was amazing." He murmured contentedly.
You snuggled against his chest, smiling up at him. "Mmmm it was." You agreed. "I'm glad we did this."
He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Me too, baby. Me too."
The room felt almost unnaturally quiet compared to the noise on the other side of the door a bit later. The party was still going, you could hear it. The distant thump of bass through the floorboards, occasional bursts of laughter drifting faintly through the walls, but it all felt far away now. Like the rest of the house existed somewhere else entirely.
He was half asleep beside you already, one arm rested loosely around your waist, his breathing slow and steady against the silence of the room. Every now and then his fingers twitched slightly like he was adjusting in his sleep without fully waking up. The simple weight of his arm felt strangely grounding.
You just stared at the ceiling quietly, exhausted, but you couldn't shut your eyes. You didn't realize how badly you wanted this until it happened, not even just physically—him as a whole, the closeness of it all. The way he always remembered small things about you without making a big deal out of it, checking if you got home safely even when he pretended not to be worried. The way he somehow became part of your routine so gradually that you never noticed it happening until the thought of losing it felt impossible. That was the terrifying part, not what happened tonight—partly, but what happened after. Because now there wasn't really any pretending anymore.
For weeks you convinced yourself distance was the smartest option. Staying in your room, finding excuses to be busy, keeping conversations shorter whenever you caught yourself getting too comfortable around him.
You told yourself it was protecting the friendship, protecting yourself. But lying here now, with his arm wrapped around you like it belonged there, you couldn't imagine going back to that version of things. And you didn't want to. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp near the far wall and whatever light managed to slip through the curtains from outside. Jaemin looked completely asleep now, his face softer than usual without his constant grin. A small smile appeared at your mouth before you could stop it. The funny thing was that none of this felt nearly as scary as it should have. A week ago you would've been spiraling, a month ago you probably would've convinced yourself to run in the opposite direction. Now all you felt was strangely calm. Your eyes drifted toward the ceiling again. Outside, the music shifted to another song, somebody shouted, a few people cheered.
Life kept moving, the party kept going. But for the first time all night, you weren't thinking about what happened next. You weren't thinking about tomorrow, or whether things would be awkward. All you could think about was the weight of Jaemin's arm around your waist and the fact that, for once, you didn't want an exit. You didn't want distance, didn't want to convince yourself that this was temporary. You wanted whatever came after this.
═════════════════════════
You woke up slowly to sunlight spilling across the bed, warm enough that for a few seconds you didn't want to move. You stayed somewhere between sleep and being awake, still wrapped in the leftover comfort of the blankets until reality started piecing itself back together little by little. The room was quiet in a way that felt unfamiliar, then you turned your head slightly toward the other side of the bed—empty. The sheets beside you were already cold.
You blinked once, staring at the space where Jaemin had been only hours ago, before slowly pushing yourself upright. The blanket was still pulled around your shoulders as you looked around the room, almost like you were expecting him to appear somewhere and make the whole thing feel normal again.
His hoodie was gone from the floor and the faint sound of music drifted somewhere outside the bedroom, low enough that it blended into the background. He was awake already. You got up slowly, finding your clothes scattered around the room before throwing them back on. Your head hurt slightly—not terrible, just enough to remind you how much you drank last night.
It smelled like coffee and cleaning spray when you walked out. Music played softly from the speaker in the kitchen while Jaemin moved around the living room cleaning up bottles and cups from the night before. Sunlight poured through the windows behind him while he tied up another trash bag. He looked up briefly when he heard you. "Oh." He said, pausing slightly. "Hey."
Immediately your stomach sank a little, he wasn't cold exactly, not angry, but it was different enough that you noticed right away.
"Hey." You answered slowly while walking further into the room.
Usually by now he would've smiled properly. He would've made some comment about how you slept half the day away or teased you about needing another recovery day after drinking. He would've looked at you like he always did, like there was some private inside joke between the two of you that nobody else understood. Instead, he just nodded once before turning back toward the kitchen island.
You stood there for a second, unsure what to do with yourself. You hated that you noticed every little thing. The fact that you suddenly felt like you were standing in someone else's house instead of the place that had started feeling familiar. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you grabbed a few empty cups off the counter just to give your hands something to do. "You cleaned all this already?" You asked lightly.
"Mhm." He barely nodded.
"You sleep at all?"
"A little." He answered quickly.
His responses were short...too short. You frowned slightly, setting the cups down in the trash while glancing at him. "Party seemed successful."
"Yeah."
The silence after that stretched awkwardly. You kept stealing glances at him while he wiped down the counter pretending you weren't watching, his jaw tense, shoulders stiff. A slow, horrible thought started creeping in—maybe he regretted it. The thought genuinely hurt more than expected because you didn't regret it at all, not even slightly. And it was embarrassing. You swallowed quietly before finally speaking. "How do you feel about last night?"
Jaemin froze for half a second, it was barely noticeable, but you saw it. He looked over at you cautiously. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Your eyebrows furrowed together immediately. "You don't know what I'm talking about?"
He let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck before looking away again. "I was blacked out last night." He said casually. "I don't remember much."
The words should've relieved you if they were true. Instead, they just made something in your chest sink. You knew the way he avoided things when he didn't want to say them. Knew the difference between Jaemin being confused and Jaemin pretending not to understand. And right now, he wouldn't even look at you. You let out a small laugh, more disbelief than amusement. "Jaemin... I woke up in your bed—"
Before you could finish, he dug both hands into his hoodie pockets and pulled out a stack of cash, dropping it onto the kitchen counter between you. "Here's your pay." He interrupted quickly.
You stared down at the money, then at him. The sudden change in subject almost made you forget what you were about to say.
"And honestly." He continued before you could say anything else."I have a really bad hangover right now, so I'm trying to be in silence today." There was something defensive about the way he said it, like he had already prepared the explanation before you even asked. He still wouldn't even really look at you. "You don't even have to clean with me." He added quickly while turning away again. "I got it all. You can take one of your mental health days or whatever the fuck it is."
The slight edge in his voice caught you off guard, not mean exactly—just...closed off. You stood there for another second trying to understand what happened between last night and now. "Are you sure?" You asked quietly. "I don't mind helping."
"I'm sure." He answered immediately. "Just go rest."
The room suddenly felt colder despite the sunlight filling every corner. You looked at him for a second longer, waiting for something. A smile, a joke, anything that felt like him, but nothing came. So you nodded slowly. "Okay."
Jaemin gave another short nod without turning around fully this time and that hurt more than anything. You grabbed the money off the counter quietly before walking back downstairs.
The second your flat door shut behind you, the silence felt heavier than before. You stood there for a minute without moving, staring at nothing while your brain tried to catch up with what had just happened before finally dragging yourself toward the shower.
Hot water poured over your shoulders, but it didn't quiet your thoughts, they kept looping endlessly. Maybe he really didn't remember, maybe he actually had been blackout drunk. But that didn't make sense either. Jaemin wasn't careless with people, that was one of the things you trusted most about him. He was playful, impulsive, could be ridiculous when he wanted to be, but when it came to people he cared about, he paid attention.
So why did it suddenly feel like he was pretending last night never happened?
You pressed your forehead briefly against the shower wall, letting the water run down your face. The part that bothered you most wasn't even the hookup, it was losing him. Because underneath everything else, Jaemin was still your friend first. And now something between you felt cracked open in a way you didn't know how to fix.
You had a feeling this would happen, you told yourself over and over again that it would. Every warning sign, every doubt, every instinct telling you to keep your distance had been there from the beginning. But you ignored it, pushed it down so deeply that eventually you convinced yourself it wasn't there at all. Not just for him, but for yourself. Because you wanted to believe this was different, that he was different. And that was what hurt the most. Not what happened, not even the disappointment. It was the fact that you had trusted him enough to lower your guard. Trusted him enough to stay when every part of you was telling you to leave. You had taken the risk anyway, convinced that maybe this time things wouldn't end the way they always did.
But you were right all along. You were right to run, right to pull away, right to keep a safe distance between yourself and him before things got too complicated, before you got too attached. It wasn't satisfying to be right, it wasn't a victory because for a little while, you had allowed yourself to hope.
And now there was nothing left to do except what you planned from the beginning—separate yourself from him, before you forgot how.
pairing: researcher! mark lee x corporate heiress! reader | genre: angst, fluff, smut | words: 26k+ (35k+ total)
parts: 1, 2 (coming soon) (i had to split it into two guys, sorry! it was ridiculous how much i deleted to not hit the 1k limit)
synopsis: what do you do when the ghost of your twenty-one year old self walks back into your life five years later with a proposal so absurd it sounds like a joke? that's the question mark lee finds himself asking when you appear. it should've been easy to refuse, to walk away, to pretend it never happened. too bad first loves are stubborn, billionaires are terrifying and letting go has always been the problem.
warnings: we dive deep into the angst!, this goes back and forth between present and past!! reader has lots of trauma, sadness, loneliness, +18 contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. please read with care. a physically abusive father! doesn't get too descriptive, more implied, a mention of a bruise and one slap. slight! exhibitionism, virgins but not inexperienced, mark eatssss and he’s a giverrrr (ofc he is), fingering, blowjobs, riding, missionary. mentions of: a deceased mother, pregnancy, condoms, a cigarette, a scraped knee. i think that's it. this kinda looks terrifying…but there is a happy ending!
an: oh god, i haven't written a long mark fic in a while...this was so fun to write!!! i kept getting inspired every time we would get updates from upper room's ceo so you're going to see a lot of that inspiration here <3 i hope you love it as much as i love mark! please do share your thoughts with me - with love, c.
💎 MARRY ME. 💎
the ballroom glittered in gold, the entire venue filled with executives, celebrities, investors and the media that moved from one conversation to another. everywhere you looked, there were cameras, luxury gowns, pressed suits, and waiters carrying trays of champagne beneath giant digital screens advertising yü skincare’s newest launch – their vitamin line.
“mrs. zhong,” you greet warmly, approaching the woman of the hour, surrounded by reporters and company executives. your eyes flicker down briefly to the visible curve beneath her gold silk dress before returning to face her with a smile, “congratulations on the pregnancy.”
the smile on her face softened instantly, “thank you,” she says, one hand resting over her stomach.
“it’s all anyone’s been talking about lately,” you tease lightly, “well–that and this launch,” you gesture around the ballroom, “azur is very excited to officially add yü’s new vitamin line into our stores.”
at the mention of azur, several nearby executives straighten. of course they do. azur’s luxury department stores practically dictated what became successful across asia. if a product received premium placement in your stores, sales skyrocketed overnight.
“ms. y/n,” she says warmly, slipping easily into her public persona, “we’re incredibly grateful to continue working with azur.”
you exchanged practiced corporate smiles for the people listening nearby. perfect. elegant. professional. the life of the rich and wealthy. exactly what the cameras wanted. but the second the reporters drift away, your smiles melt into something real – you were childhood friends, after all.
“my back is actually killing me,” she mutters under her breath.
you nearly laugh, “why are you here anyway?,” you whisper back, “shouldn’t you be at home…resting? chenle’s handling everything pretty well.”
“he’s perfect,” she sighs dramatically, a woman so in love with her husband you can’t help but feel a little envious, “but apparently revealing my belly for the first time at this event was ‘excellent publicity.’”
you snort quietly into your champagne glass, “romance and a baby,” you murmur, “the media must be thrilled.
“they’re obsessed,” she deadpans, “every time i’m even standing next to chenle, they follow us like vultures.”
your laughter slips out this time. “well,” you tell her sincerely, “you look absolutely beautiful.”
her expression melts instantly, “stop,” she pouts, lower lip jutting out slightly, “you’re gonna make me emotional.”
then suddenly–
“oh, mark!”
your heart stops. it wasn’t even intentional, just instinct – the name alone sends something sharp and knowing through your chest before you can control it. you slowly turn around.
“yes, ma’am.”
his voice hits first. low, steady and grounding. it was a voice that had consumed your memories, a sound that triggered a flood of familiarity.
and then you finally see…him.
mark lee stands a few feet away in a black suit, one hand holding a tablet against his side, eyes landing on mrs. zhong first – and then on you.
the change in his expression was microscopic, invisible to anyone who didn’t know the map of his face. but you noticed. you notice everything about him. the way his pupils dilated, the slight hitch in his breathing and the almost imperceptible tremor in his posture as the reality of your presence crashed into him.
mrs. zhong beamed, blissfully oblivious to the sudden, suffocating tension that had snapped into place between you.
“y/n,” she says, turning toward you excitedly, “meet director mark lee, the brilliant mind behind our vitamin research and development team.” then she turns toward him, “mark, this is the heir of azur. their department stores will be leading the distribution for our new vitamin line.”
your eyes remained locked on his, a silent, intense collision as mrs. zhong continues speaking enthusiastically beside you. she goes on and on about mark being one of the company’s greatest assets, detailing his research contributions and how hard the company worked to keep him from rival corporations.
but you didn’t hear a single word.
because mark is staring at you too. his eyes are somewhere between shock and disbelief, like he’s still trying to figure out if you’re actually standing here in front of him or he’s materialized his hallucinations.
only one thought crossed your mind-
you want him.
you are going to marry him.
no one else.
as mrs. zhong finally trailed off, you stepped forward, the silk of your midnight blue dress gliding with every move. you extended your hand towards him, “nice to meet you, director mark.”
for the briefest moment, his gaze drops to your hand, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. then he takes it, warm and steady, a stark difference to the turmoil evident in his eyes.
“you too, ms. y/n,” he replies politely. too politely. he sounded like a stranger with his voice polished and careful, wrapped in a layer of professional distance that felt like a slap to the face. you hated it. you hated the wall he was building between you in real time.
before the silence between you can stretch any further, mrs. zhong let out a soft giggle, “i think my husband needs rescuing.”
you follow her gaze to see zhong chenle trapped in a conversation with a group of investors, subtly trying to signal her over without looking desperate. she looks between the two of you, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“i’ll leave you both to it,” she says casually before turning toward mark, “director, you can explain everything y/n needs to know about the vitamin, it’ll help azur with the marketing campaign.”
mark straightens his posture instantly, the habit of a dedicated employee taking over, “yes, ma’am”
and just like that, she disappears into the gold-lit crowd, leaving you alone with him.
for a moment, neither of you say anything. the music from the ballroom swells softly beneath the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses, but the silence between you feels louder than all of it.
you tilt your head slightly, a slow, amused smile playing on your lips as you let your gaze wander over the sharp line of his jaw.
“director, huh?” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave.
mark clears his throat. suddenly, the brilliant researcher everyone spent the night praising seems to completely lose his footing. because now that it’s just the two of you, he can’t even hide it anymore. the shock. the confusion. the realization.
he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around who you actually are.
and you can tell by the way he stutters. mark lee never used to stutter…unless he was nervous.
“y-yeah,” he nodded quickly, his eyes darting away for a split second before snapping back to yours, “i–uh–”
cute.
“you did it,” you tell him softly, the corporate mask sliding away to reveal genuine warmth, a soft smile on your lips reserved for only one person in this room.
that simple acknowledgment acted like a catalyst. mark stopped glancing around the room and finally looked at you properly for the first time tonight. in an instant, the noise of the ballroom faded into a hum as he’s immediately transported to five years ago.
back when you were just – you.
not the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire.
“uhm–uhm–,” mark stammered, frantically pulling up his tablet like he’s trying to find his ground, “so…our new vitamin line…”
he was retreating. trying to claw his way back into professionalism because that’s safer than acknowledging whatever this is. he starts explaining the product launch but you weren’t listening. because all you can do is look at him.
he’s older now. the boy you met five years ago is replaced by someone sharper. more refined. more composed. his face had matured, his black suit clinging to his broad shoulders perfectly, his glasses gone, his eye lines more prominent, you wonder how many times he’s laughed over the years for those lines to appear. he still has the same moles on his cheeks. still has the same deep brown eyes you fell in love with before you even realized what it was. and despite everything that’s changed, looking at him still felt like coming home.
without warning, you cut him off completely.
“follow me, mark.”
his voice immediately dies off. mark looks up from the tablet just in time to see you already turning away, your gown swirling around your ankles as you led the way. then, after only a second of hesitation, he follows. it almost annoys you that he does so without a single protest because it highlights the difference between the two of you–
you are the heir to retail conglomerate that could crush his career with a single phone call, the daughter to one of the most powerful men in asia.
and mark, no matter how brilliant, respected, or successful he became – is still an employee.
you led him up the grand staircase toward the private balcony overlooking the ballroom below. the music grows quieter the further you climb, the golden lights dimmer up here, the crowd downstairs far too busy with networking to notice the two of you sneaking away.
the cold night air brushes against your skin as you stop near the railing.
behind you, mark exhales a long, shaky breath, “y/n?”
the way he says your name nearly destroys you. it’s the exact same way he used to say it five years ago in seoul. careful. soft. laced with a tenderness that treated your name like something precious.
“i can’t believe this,” he whispered, voice trembling, “you didn’t tell me you were–”
“marry me.”
silence.
complete and utter silence.
mark froze. and this time, he doesn’t even try to hide the shock on his face. his eyes widen almost immediately as if his brain stopped functioning for a second, looking at you as if you had just spoken a language he didn’t understand.
💎 THE GHOST FROM HIS PAST. 💎
mark feels like he’s hallucinating. because there is absolutely no way this is real. no way the ghost from his past just reappeared in thin air, draped in couture and smelling of expensive perfume to dismantle the carefully constructed walls of his life with one proposal.
literally…whose dream is this?
his heart hammers against his ribs like a trapped bird, his entire sense of reality currently collapsing in on itself as he stares at you. and after what seemed to be the longest ten seconds of your life–
“what!?” he finally sputters out, the words escaping him as a breathless, panicked exclamation.
“marry me,” you repeated, your voice steady, contrasting his chaos.
mark actually lets out a disbelieving laugh. not because it’s funny but because if he doesn’t laugh, he genuinely thinks he might lose his mind.
“dude–,” he exhaled, dragging a hand down to his face, his fingers scrubbing at his skin as if trying to wipe away the vision of you.
the term sneaks a small smile onto your lips. it was so him.
“i’ve got to be dreaming,” he whispered into his palm.
you smirked in amusement, biting down on your lip to try and contain your laughter, “you dream of marrying me, markie?”
the nickname hit him like a punch. markie. another bittersweet memory he’s tried too hard to forget. a name that belonged to a version of himself he thought he had let go of.
mark looks at you then. he can’t help but take you in, studying you with the same intensity he used to study his research samples back in the university labs, as if by analyzing every detail, he could prove you were real — you’re older now. still as beautiful as the first day he met you. your smile lines are still there, faint at the corners of your lips. he wonders briefly why they haven’t gotten deeper over the years. had you stopped laughing as much? your hair is shorter. more refined. more elegant. but it’s your eyes that make his chest twist unexpectedly. god, those eyes. he remembered them too well. the same eyes he lost himself in for a whole year. he had memorized every detail without realizing it…every line in your iris, every expression before you laughed, every look you gave him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. but now, as he searched your gaze, he realized the light had changed. something inside them looks quieter. colder. lonelier.
“so…,” you tilt your head slightly, that teasing smirk still on your lips, “is that a yes?”
he finally snaps out of his daydream, your question pulling him back to earth. this isn’t a dream. the cold air is real, the scent of your perfume is real, and the impossible request hanging in the air is real.
mark stares at you like you’ve completely lost your mind.
“what is this?,” he asks finally, a sharp edge of frustration slicing through his shock, “a prank? some kind of joke?”
“do i look like i’m joking, mark?”
“no, but y-you,” he cuts himself off sharply, trying to compose himself, “you can’t just–,” he exhales hard through his nose.
“you disappeared.”
the teasing expression on your face falters slightly. for a split second, the mask of the azur heir cracked, revealing the girl who had once loved him.
mark laughs again, quieter this time, bitter, a sound devoid of any joy, “no goodbye. no explanations.” his jaw tightens, “you were just…gone. you left me like you never existed.”
your chest twists painfully but instead of acknowledging it, you slip into the version of yourself that knows how to survive difficult conversations, forcing indifference onto your expression.
“and now i’m here,” you say lightly, head held high, “and i’m making you an offer you shouldn’t resist.”
mark looked at you as if he were staring at a stranger wearing the skin of someone he once loved. and maybe he was. maybe the girl who stole his heart five years ago isn’t the same girl standing before him now.
“do you think marriage is a game?” he asks finally, anger quietly bleeding into his voice.
your expression softens just slightly, the ice in your eyes flickering. you stepped closer, the scent of your expensive perfume swirling around him.
“i think,” you start carefully, your voice dropping to a low hum, “we can work well together.”
the words hang heavily between you.
“like we did before,” you added softly.
he just stares at you, waiting for an explanation. so you continue.
“let’s face it mark,” you continued, your voice losing it’s softness and taking on a sharp edge, “no matter how smart, impressive and hardworking you are,” you paused, letting the weight of the statement sink in, “you will always be an employee.”
you notice the subtle twitch in his expression immediately. you know you hit a nerve, crossing a line you shouldn’t, but you keep going anyway. you leaned in, your gaze locking into his.
“marrying me would change everything for you,” you gesture vaguely toward the glittering ballroom below, “your status, your influence, your position in this industry.”
mark’s face hardens, his expression becoming a mask of stone.
“you don’t want to spend the rest of your life being the brilliant director executives profit off of while they sit comfortably above you,” your gaze stays locked onto his, “with me, everything you’ve ever wanted is yours.”
for a second, you saw it – the flicker of temptation. mark wasn’t blind. he knew the math. and he knew he’d be a fool to pass up this offer. he could dedicate another ten years of his life and still never truly stand beside the wealthiest — people like the zhong’s, the park’s, the na’s. people like you. that kind of status wasn’t earned. it was inherited.
but even though the wealth is blinding and tempting – mark is a fool.
a fool who believes marriage should mean something. that a vow was a promise of the soul, not a contract for mutual benefit.
his mind flashed back to his parents – the only blueprint for love he had ever known. they ruined themselves loving each other, spent years struggling financially, sacrificing everything for one another, and yet they still look at each other like they won the lottery. it’s his favorite love story. a testament to the idea that love was the only currency that actually mattered. that’s why he can’t imagine marrying someone for strategy or status or convenience.
“and what exactly do you get out of marrying me?,” he asks finally, completely dumbfounded.
none of it made sense to him. he’s sure there was a line of guys waiting at your feet – billionaire heirs, ceo’s, politicians’ sons, executives raised specifically for marriages like this, men with family names powerful enough to impress your family. so…why in the world would you ever choose him? he didn’t have billions of dollars attached to his name. his family is ordinary. and you said it yourself – he is just an employee.
your gaze flickers for the first time tonight.
“i have three months,” you admit quietly as mark’s brows furrow slightly. the sudden time constraint shifted the energy of the conversation from a strategic negotiation to a desperate plea.
“my father made it clear,” you inhale slowly before meeting his eyes again, “i’m getting married this year whether i want to or not.”
the cold night air suddenly feels heavier and mark felt a sudden surge of protectiveness that he had no right to feel. he absolutely hates how much that imagery affects him. you, in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to someone else. it bothers him far more than it should. which is ridiculous, really. he hasn’t seen you in five years. you were strangers who shared a history, ghosts of a seoul that no longer existed.
but then you spoke and that sharp edge was gone, leaving behind something aching and raw.
“i’d rather it be you,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper, “than the man my father chose for me.”
that almost breaks him. because for the first time tonight, you finally sound honest. the conflict within him reached a fever pitch. on one side was the man who valued love, the man who refused to be a pawn in a corporate game. on the other was the boy who had spent five agonizing years wondering where you went, the boy who had kept a small, locked part of his heart reserved for the girl who had disappeared without a word, leaving him to bleed in silence.
looking at you now, the anger and the betrayal are still there…but also...the primal, aching longing that refuses to die.
💎 THE GIRLFRIEND. 💎
“there you are,” a sweet, melodic voice cuts through the tension hanging between you and mark, “i’ve been looking for you.”
both of you turn at the same time as a woman approaches from the staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble. she’s beautiful in that effortless way and she isn’t familiar to you. but the way she walks directly toward mark tells you enough already.
“karina,” mark calls out her name. the way his voice softens around her makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. that tone used to be reserved only for you.
“uhm–,” he clears his throat quickly before gesturing toward you, “meet ms. y/n, heir of azur, i was just explaining the vitamin line like mrs. zhong asked.”
karina’s eyes widen slightly before she bows politely, ”oh,” she says softly, “i’m so sorry for interrupting.”
you’re already preparing to dismiss her. to tell her you and mark were still discussing something important but mark beats you to it.
”ms. y/n,” he says carefully, his voice regaining it’s professional distance, “this is karina, head of the marketing team…”
there’s the briefest pause. then–
“...and my girlfriend.”
your expression almost slips. but years of media training and executive dinners save you before it can fully show. still – it feels strangely humiliating how quickly disappointment crashes into you over a man you haven’t spoken to in years.
karina naturally moves beside him and mark’s hand settles against her lower back – a gesture of comfort, of habit, of belonging. the sight makes something ugly tighten in your chest, a surge of jealousy coursing through you.
right. of course. why wouldn’t he have someone? everyone fell for him. you knew that firsthand.
you force a small smile onto your face anyway, nodding in her direction. you don’t say nice to meet you because it’s not. instead, you go back to default - work.
“well, i’m sure the vitamin line will perform extremely well. azur will set up a meeting with yü headquarters sometime this week to discuss distribution and marketing strategies further.”
you look at mark the entire time, not once sparing karina a glance, effectively erasing her presence from the conversation.
”oh,” you add lightly before stepping away, “and mark?”
his eyes meet yours immediately.
“think about it.”
the words land heavily between the two of you. it’s selfish, maybe even cruel, but you had to try. this isn’t just about a wedding – this was your whole future on the line. you don’t care if there’s someone new in his heart now. not when you can still see the flicker of the old mark, your mark, in his eyes. not when there is a chance that you are still etched into his soul.
then, you turn and walk away, head held high, expression composed, untouchable until the very end, not daring to glance back.
only once you disappear down the staircase does mark finally exhale properly for what feels like the first time all night. the second you’re out of sight, he immediately steps away from karina.
“what the fuck was that?!” karina whisper-shouts, looking at him in disbelief, “i’m not your girlfriend!”
he lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. the composure he had fought so hard to maintain in front of you shatters instantly. karina was not his girlfriend. never had been. she was a good friend. and now she’s looking at him like he’s completely lost his mind.
“do you remember the girl i told you about?” he sputters out, his voice strained, “the one i met in south korea?”
karina blinks once. then twice.
“uhh you mean the girl you’ve been hung up on for the past five years because she ghosted you and ‘she was the only woman i’ve ever loved,’ – that girl?,” karina teases, mocking his voice.
mark grimaces immediately, a flush of heat creeping up his neck, “i never said that,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“‘ughh karina, love is not real—i’ll never love again—she’s the only one for me, no else will ever take her spot—,” karina continues teasing him, voice going several octaves lower in a terrible imitation of him.
”okay, okay!” mark hisses, rubbing his face in embarrassment, “i get it…i may have said those things,” he grumbles in defeat.
karina lets out a soft chuckle, her expression softening as she looks at him. the teasing fades, replaced by a flicker of curiosity and concern. she knows the depth of the scar you left on him.
“what about that girl?”
mark lets out another tired sigh before glancing toward the staircase you disappeared down moments ago. and instantly, his expression turned serious. the exact look karina recognizes from late nights in the office – the expression he wears when he is on the verge of a breakthrough, when he becomes so consumed by a singular goal that the rest of the world ceases to exist.
“that was her.”
karina freezes. ”...oh.” her eyes widening at the revelation, “oh, shit.”
“WAIT–” she hisses, smacking his arm, her voice climbing an octave, “so whY THE HELL DID YOU TELL HER I WAS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!?”
”shhhh!,” mark whispers immediately, glancing around to make sure nobody heard her, “keep your voice down!”
karina lowers her voice, still mixed with the same frustration, “why the hell did you tell her i was your girlfriend!?”
“because…she asked me to marry her.”
his friend’s eyes almost pop out of her sockets, “WHAT—!?”
she processes the information quickly, her gaze shifting from his face to the empty space where you had stood then back to him. she points a finger accusingly at his chest, ”and you turned her down.”
mark winces, “...i turned her down.”
in a flash, a hand comes down to smack the back of his head.
“AYE!–” mark rubs the back of his head immediately, glaring at her with a mix of pain and confusion, “what was that for!?”
“for being stupid!,” she groans, throwing her hands up in the air as she starts pacing in a small circle, her voice a frantic, dramatic whisper–
“mark, i’m struggling to see the problem here!—this is the same girl you’ve been in love with for five years!–and she’s the heir of azur! do you know how much this will elevate you. not only do you get the girl–you also get the name. the wealth. the status. you’d practically be royalty!”
mark lets out a long, heavy sigh, “that’s exactly why i can’t do it,” he says quietly.
karina stood mid-gesture, staring at him blankly.
mark exhales slowly, his gaze drifting back toward the staircase, “i don’t want to marry her because of her money. or her name. or the material things she can give me.”
karina’s expression softens immediately. the fire in her eyes dies down, replaced by a look of profound, almost pained understanding. god. sometimes she forgets how painfully sincere mark actually is. in a world of corporate sharks and social climbers, mark lee was an anomaly – a man whose integrity was as rigid as his research.
”you and your morals,” she sighs dramatically, though there’s obvious fondness in her voice now, a small, proud smile tugging at her lips.
“it’s all i’ve got.”
karina snorts, shifting back into her theatrical persona, clutching her chest and mourning the loss of a lifestyle she never had, “god, i can’t believe i won’t be a nepo friend. i could be in your private jet, mark! shopping in paris!”
mark lets out a genuine laugh, the first one of the night, the tension in his chest loosening just a fraction.
“but now what?,” she pauses, the playfulness vanishing as she looks at him seriously now, “-families like hers are expected to marry one way or another, are you honestly going to be okay watching her marry someone else?”
💎 MIDNIGHT. 💎
the question follows mark home like a curse. it echoes in his head during the drive back to his condo, during the elevator ride up to his penthouse and now – at midnight – it has finally cornered him.
mark’s room is dark except for the faint glow of the city’s skyline filtering through the curtains. usually after events like tonight, he’d already be fast asleep. he had work in the morning. meetings. reports. lab reviews. his life was structured and predictable.
you had always been the one thing capable of ruining that.
he lies flat on his back against his king sized bed, one arm thrown over his eyes as if physically blocking out the memory of you would somehow help. it doesn’t. because every time he closes his eyes – he only sees you.
he exhales sharply before turning onto his side for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. he’s completely restless. and angry. angry that you suddenly showed up after five years as a stranger wrapped in the skin of the woman he loved. angry that you asked him something so insane like it was nothing. angry that some stupid part of him almost said yes immediately. angry that despite everything – his first instinct was still you.
in a fit of frustration, he drags a pillow over his face. this is ridiculous. five whole years has past without you. years he’d spent convincing himself he’d moved on. that whatever happened in seoul belonged in the past. that you were just another chapter in his life he had eventually learned to turn.
but now – every memory he thought he had buried comes rushing back all at once, playing in his mind like a movie he can’t turn off no matter how hard he tries.
he still remembers the first day he met you. still remembers how your hand feels in his. the scent of your perfume that clung to his memory long after you disappeared. the sound of your laughter that still echoes somewhere in the back of his mind sometimes. and your lips – even after five years, he can still taste you. he remembers the heat of your breath, the soft desperate way you used to pull him closer, the taste of salt and sweetness and longing, as if it all happened yesterday rather than a lifetime ago.
that’s the part that truly drives him insane.
what kind of person remembers someone this vividly after half a decade apart? what kind of person still gets wrecked by a single look from someone they haven’t seen in years?
apparently him.
“jesus christ,” he mutters under his breath as he turns in his bed again.
he closes his eyes again, and this time, he doesn’t try to block you out. he lets the memory of you wash over him.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO
❄️ MARCH: THE STATISTICS ❄️
the lecture hall lights were dimmed just enough for your presentation slides to glow brightly against the large screen behind you. rows of students sat scattered across the room, some paying attention, some pretending to care. laptops clicked quietly beneath the sound of your voice while your professor sat comfortably at the back of the classroom. he was one of those who preferred watching students teach themselves rather than actually lecturing. typical. you stood confidently at the front, remote in hand as graphs and marketing statistics flashed behind you.
“-data visualization is critical to the consumer experience because 80% of information transmitted to the brain is visual–”
“90.”
the voice cuts cleanly through the room, stopping you mid-sentence.
slowly, your eyes move toward the source – a boy sits near the front row, one arm resting lazily against the desk while the other twirls a pen between his fingers, his silver-framed glasses reflecting the light from your powerpoint presentation, briefly hiding his eyes, but not enough to hide the calm confidence in them.
“..sorry?” you say slowly, one eyebrow lifting. your voice had a sharp edge to it, the instinctive defense of someone used to being the smartest person in any room they entered.
“the statistics,” he clarifies casually, “visual information transmitted to the brain is actually 90%”
the room falls strangely quiet. you could’ve sworn your textbook said 80. and judging by the way nobody else corrected you, everyone else thought so too. but before you could argue further, your professor’s voice cuts you off.
“mark is right. it is 90%. and though it’s not a critical mistake. you should always be careful with numbers, y/n – wrong numbers could cost you an entire company.”
normally, a public correction like this would’ve irritated you. you hated making mistakes. hated being corrected even more. to be proven wrong in front of people was a bruise to the ego you had spent years polishing.
but strangely, you aren’t annoyed. in fact — you’re impressed. because for the first time in your life, someone interrupted you without hesitation. no nervousness. no flattery.
it was the most honest interaction you ever had.
once class finally ends, the room erupts into noise almost immediately. chairs scrape loudly against the floor, students begin shoving laptops into bags while conversations start to overlap. you stay near the podium, packing away your things.
“hey.”
you glance up. mark stands awkwardly in front of you, backpang hanging off one shoulder while one hand grips the strap absentmindedly. up close, he looks softer. handsome. annoyingly handsome.
“hi,” you reply, a little colder than necessary as you slide your laptop into your bag, “here to point out anything else wrong with my presentation?”
“no–i–,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before letting out a quiet breath, “sorry.”
you find the sudden shift in his demeanor a bit amusing, trying to hide the smile creeping in on your lips.
“sorry for what?”
mark shifts his weight awkwardly, “i uh—wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” he explains quickly, “or act like i thought i was smarter than you or anything. i actually…i really liked your presentation,” he admits, “your powerpoint was really easy to understand.” he gestures vaguely with one hand, clearly struggling to explain himself properly. “like…you explained everything in a way that made the information simple without losing the important parts. most people can’t really do that. usually they just read the slides or copy and paste everything from the book.”
you stare at him, your gaze searching his face for any sign of a facade. you were used to the curated compliments of the elite – the polished, hollow praise designed to gain favor or secure a connection. but as you look into his eyes, you realize there’s no fake politeness here. no calculated flirting. no hidden agenda. he’s just…honest.
which somehow catches you more off guard. in your world, honest was either a luxury or a weapon – it was rarely just a default setting. most people either tried too hard to impress you or walked on eggshells, terrified of disagreeing with you.
mark wasn’t like most people.
your lips twitch slightly before you can stop them, “you rehearsed that apology before coming over here, didn’t you?”
his ears immediately turn red, “...maybe.”
and for the first time since arriving in seoul – you laugh.
❄️ MAY: CONVENIENCE STORES & INSTANT RAMEN ❄️
“ughh, i swear my brain is going to explode,” you groan, dramatically burying your head in your arms and collapsing onto the library table.
mark lets out a quiet laugh from beside you. the sound alone almost makes suffering through six straight hours of studying worth it. almost.
outside the large library windows, the sky had already begun glowing softly beneath the fading sunset. the once crowded floor was slowly emptying now, students packing up one by one as dinner time approached. meanwhile, you and mark were still buried beneath textbooks, highlighted papers, laptops, empty coffee cups and scattered handwritten notes.
over the past two months, the two of you had gotten unexpectedly close. close enough that studying together had somehow become routine. at first, it was accidental. a shared group project here, an exchanged set of notes there. and then suddenly – you were spending almost every day together. not that you minded. in fact, out of everyone in this prestigious university, mark was probably the only person you genuinely enjoyed being around. he never exhausted you. never tried too hard. never acted differently around you. never expected anything from you.
around him, you didn’t feel like azur’s heir. because to mark, you were just another exhausted university student trying not to fail. and maybe that was exactly why being around him felt so easy — he had absolutely no idea who you really were. no idea that your family owned the luxury department stores he studied in class. no idea that your surname alone could open doors for him. no idea that the “small apartment” you claimed to live in was actually a luxury penthouse paid for by your father.
but the real irony was — even though he didn’t know the real you, it felt like he was the only one who actually knew the real you. every shared joked, every frustrated sigh, every moment of comfortable silence felt real in a way the rest of your life never did.
and to add on to the benefits of him – mark was ridiculously attractive. the kind of handsome that he wasn’t even aware of. which was annoying at times because you spend more time staring at the stars in his eyes than you’d like to admit. and god. when he started nerdy talking? absolutely unfair.
“how about we take a break?,” he suggests finally, smiling softly at you.
you narrow your eyes immediately, turning your head towards him, strands of your hair falling to your face.
“a break?” you repeat dramatically, “you?”
mark laughs quietly, “yes, me.”
“the same person who doesn’t stop until he finishes what he’s doing because ‘it’ll ruin my flow’ you??” you tease slightly.
he bit back a smile, his gaze lingering on you. then, without thinking – he reaches over.
your breath catches instantly as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, carefully tucking the strands behind your ear. the movement so absentminded. so gentle. like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to you. meanwhile, your heart practically stops beating altogether. it’s honestly infuriating how unaware he is of his own effect on you.
“breaks are good,” mark says softly, completely oblivious to the internal crisis you were experiencing, “besides, we’ll retain more information if our brains don't explode.”
which is how you ended up here – standing inside a small 7/11 near campus with its fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, the warm air carrying the smell of instant noodles and melted cheese wraps around the store.
your eyes scan the shelves lined with different instant ramen cups and packets stacked almost to the ceiling, colors blending together in a way that feels overwhelming…yet you’re completely fascinated by all of it.
“there’s so many flavors,” you murmur under your breath.
mark, who had been walking behind you, pauses mid-step, looking at you curiously, “...have you never been here before?”
you glance toward him quickly, a flicker of panic crossing your mind, “of course i’ve been inside a 7/11 before.”
he raises an eyebrow immediately, “but?”
you hesitate. technically, yes, you’ve entered convenience stores before but usually it’s because your driver needed to stop for gas. or because security had to grab something quickly. or because you got bored waiting in the car once. but standing here casually after studying? having instant ramen for dinner? that was new.
you look back toward the shelves again, “i’ve just…never really had this stuff before.”
mark’s eyes widen slightly, “you’ve never had instant ramen?”
you shake your head once and for the first time since knowing him, mark looks completely stunned.
“how is that even possible?” he asked, his voice a mix of horror and bewilderment.
you shrug awkwardly. all your meals growing up had been prepared by professional chefs. perfectly plated breakfasts every morning, fresh ingredients flown in internationally, nutritionists deciding your meals before you even woke up. the kind of luxury so deeply embedded into your life you rarely noticed it yourself. now, standing here while mark stared at you like you’d confessed to never drinking water before – you realize how absurd your life probably sounds to normal people.
“i don’t know,” you mumble defensively, “my family just…eats at home a lot.”
mark narrows his eyes slightly. you are definitely leaving something out. but instead of questioning it, he simply grabs a shopping basket, his attention already shifting back towards the ramen shelves.
“what are you doing?"
he looks at you like the answer is obvious.
“you’ve never had instant ramen before,” he says simply, “we’re fixing that problem tonight.”
before you can argue, he starts grabbing different ramen cups off the shelves.
“this one’s a classic,” he holds up the shin ramyun before dropping it into the basket.
“this one tastes better with cheese,” he says, adding the buldak carbonara.
“this brand is kind of overrated,” he continues, grabbing the jin ramen, “but the noodles are actually really good.”
you watch him in amusement as he selects different flavors with the seriousness of someone conducting research, his brows furrowing slightly while comparing spice levels. you’re pretty sure he’s taking this more seriously than your last group project.
“are you making me a starter pack?” you ask, laughter slipping into your voice.
mark glances at you briefly, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you’re judging me,” he says dryly, “but you’ve literally never had instant ramen before.”
“...fair point.”
he reaches toward another cup, “this one’s my favorite,” his voice softening slightly when he says it.
you take it from him carefully, looking down at the packaging like it means more than instant noodles, “then i’ll try this one first.”
he pauses, and for a brief second, something unreadable flickers across his expression, soft enough that you almost miss it, then he clears his throat quickly and tosses a few drinks into the basket too.
“come on,” he says casually, walking towards the register while you follow after him. the cashier begins scanning the items as you instinctively reach for your wallet inside your bag – only for mark to beat you to it.
“my treat.”
“oh, no, you don’t have to–”
“i invited you,” he shrugs, already pulling his card from his wallet, “besides…” a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “this is technically your first instant ramen experience,” his eyes meets yours briefly, “it should be memorable.”
you stared at him, momentarily speechless. you can’t remember the last time someone did something this simple for you without expecting anything in return. in your world, every “gift” was a transaction, every kindness was a strategic move.
a sudden, piercing thought hit you – if he knew you had billions to your name, would he still insist on paying for it? you’d like to think he would.
a few minutes later, you find yourself standing beside the store’s self-service station near the back wall, staring at it with open fascination. there was a hot water dispenser, a microwave, disposable chopsticks and apparently – people actually cooked their dinner right here.
your curious expression tugs something warm in mark’s chest as he admires you with pure adoration, though he kept his posture relaxed.
“you can stop looking at it like it’s a flying car,” he teased, setting the shopping basket down on the counter.
you glance toward him, “i didn’t know convenience stores could do this.”
he shakes his head, amused, “dude, what planet have you been living on?”
“i told you,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms lightly, “my family eats at home.”
“right,” he mutters, clearly still unconvinced.
you ignore him, leaning closer toward the machine while he begins opening the ramen lids one by one with practiced ease. he moves naturally around the tiny counter space like he’s done this a hundred times before, sleeves pushed up slightly as he carefully adds seasoning packets into the cup while you stand beside him completely useless.
“what do i do?” you ask finally.
mark glances sideways at you, biting the inside of his cheek immediately to stop himself from smiling too hard. you look so concerned about it all, your brow furrowed as if you were facing a complex problem rather than a cup of noodles. it’s cute.
he clears his throat quickly before handing you one of the seasoning packets, “okay” he says patiently, “you pour this in first.”
you take the packet from him carefully like he’s handing you something fragile – but as you tore the edge, your fingers slipped and a cloud of spicy red powder erupted, spilling some on the counter.
“...fuck.”
mark stares at the mess, then at your horrified expression. and he finally laughs. loud and intoxicating. a sound that echoed through the quiet store - you felt it in your bones. you thought you could live inside the sound forever.
“don’t laugh!” you complained, though a smile was fighting to break through your pout.
“i just…can’t believe someone could actually struggle with this,” he says between quiet laughs.
“you’re being mean,” you huffed.
“no,” he corrects, his eyes shimmering with amusement, “i’m just being honest.”
you glare at him but the effect was ruined by the flush on your cheeks. he reaches over wordlessly, brushing the spilled seasoning aside with a napkin before helping you open the rest properly.
“there,” he says softly once the cups are finally ready, “now we wait.”
you watch while the steam slowly rises from the ramen cups. the store is peaceful this late at night. a little old. a little cramped. nothing like the places you usually spend your evenings. and even so – you think you like this more.
mark glances down at you briefly. your eyes are focused entirely on the ramen, your expression one of pure, childlike wonder. in this moment — he decides you’re the cutest person he’s ever met. but instead of saying that out loud, instead of risking the fragile, beautiful thing growing between you, he simply shakes his head slightly to himself, keeping the thought hidden where it’s safe.
eventually, the two of you step outside into the cool air, ramen cups warming your hands immediately as you head towards the benches near the river, the dark water reflecting city lights beautifully beneath the night sky. for a while, neither of you says much, just sitting there shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the glow of the streetlight while the city hums softly around you.
then finally – you take your first bite, eyes widening instantly. mark watches your reaction carefully.
“...oh. my. god.”
you turn towards him immediately, your expression one of genuine shock and delight, eyes practically sparkling under the streetlight.
“this is amazing!”
seeing your excitement, mark laughs softly, smiling into his own noodles while you continue eating with bubbling excitement beside him. you talked about the texture, the heat, the way it felt like a hug in a cup, your voice animated and light in a way you’ve never heard from yourself.
and maybe it’s stupid.
maybe it’s just ramen from 7/11. but sitting here with him, beneath the stars – you realize that this simple, unscripted moment of honesty might just be one of your favorite nights of your entire life.
❄️ JUNE TO JULY: LATE NIGHT LIBRARY SESSIONS ❄️
“i still can’t believe she gave you a spare key…she barely says a word to me!,” you whispered. you felt a thrill of illicit excitement, though technically, the two of you weren’t breaking and entering.
mark slides the card through the door’s reader, the automatic doors quietly unlocking with a soft beep.
“dude, that’s because you’re scary,” he teases, glancing at you over his shoulder, his eyes crinkled at the corners, a playful, knowing smile tugging at his lips, “you need to smile more.”
“please,” you scoff quietly as the two of you step inside the dim interior, “it’s because she has a crush on you.”
mark laughs softly under his breath while locking the doors behind the two of you, “that’s ridiculous.”
“is it?” you hummed.
what was truly ridiculous was mark’s complete oblivion to the effect he had on people. i mean, everyone loved him – students. professors. the cafeteria lady who dotes on him like he was her own son, always giving him extra servings. and of course, the librarian who you always catch staring at him when he wasn’t looking. mark had captured their hearts simply by existing, entirely unaware that he was doing it.
“yes,” he replies.
“she literally gave you access to an entire building,” you remind him, walking beside him, your shoulder occasionally brushing his.
“she just trusts me,” he argued, though he was smiling.
“she wants you.”
mark shakes his head with another laugh, refusing to entertain your delusions as the two of you make your way toward the back corner of the library. your usual spot. far enough from the entrance that nobody would notice the two of you. you settle into your chair by the window while he drops his backpack onto the table before sitting down next to you, close enough that your legs almost brush underneath. as usual.
it had been over a month since 7/11. at this point, you had lost count of how many cups of ramen the two of you had shared. it had somehow become your thing. you’d once tried eating it alone once, only to realize it didn’t taste the same without mark’s laughter right next to you. which was a little concerning.
“whatever,” mark says, waving off the conversation as he pulls a textbook from his backpack, “that doesn’t matter.”
you open your laptop, the light illuminating your face, but before you could even type a word, mark reached over, grabbing it without asking, his fingers moving across the keyboard as he pulls up your shared google docs notes. this was the rhythm of your friendship – easy and collaborative. if one of you struggled understanding something, the other explained it without judgment. there was no competition. no ego. just a quiet, mutual reliance.
“why not?” you ask curiously, watching his profile in the dim light.
“i don’t know,” he shrugs lightly, his focus still on the screen, “i just don’t really have time for distractions.”
your eyes narrow slightly, “so…what?,” you turn toward him, “you’re just never going to date anyone?”
he shrugs again, his tone remaining casual, “i wouldn’t say never,” his tone stays casual, “it's just not my priority right now.”
“hmm,” you hum softly, “okay.”
mark immediately stops typing then, focusing his full attention on you, “okay…” he repeats suspiciously, “what?”
you shrug innocently, “nothing. just okay.”
“nu-uh,” he shakes his head, leaning forward slightly and resting his arm on your chair, effectively boxing you in.
he’s way too close. close enough that you can smell his detergent. close enough to notice the moles near his cheeks more clearly. close enough that your heart immediately starts racing. you pretend not to notice.
“that’s not your ‘just okay’ okay…that was your judgy ‘okay’,” he says firmly.
your jaw drops slightly, “i do not have a judgy okay.”
“you have a judgy everything,” he teases, a triumphant smile on his lips, “you’re actually a very judgmental person.”
“hey!,” you shove his shoulder playfully in protest but he barely budged. instead, he just looks at you with that stupid smile sitting on his lips, clearly waiting for you to explain yourself.
“it’s just–okay,” you sigh, the playfulness draining away as you lean back into your chair, “i know your end goal is to become a research director,” you say. mark nods, confirming your statement.
“and i know you’re going to get there too,” you add honestly, "probably faster than everyone else.”
that makes him smile – not the teasing grin from before, but something small and shy. like compliments still caught him off guard even though people praise him everyday.
“but then what?” you ask quietly, making mark’s brow furrow faintly.
“you spend your entire life working toward this huge goal,” you continue, “you sacrifice sleep, a social life, you push yourself until you’re exhausted…and then one day, you finally have everything you wanted,” you paused, your heart aching with a truth you had known since childhood, “but you look around and realize you’re completely alone.”
the library suddenly feels quieter now. no teasing. no laughter. mark watched you with a piercing intensity, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read a language he hadn’t yet mastered.
“wouldn’t it be nice,” you ask softly, “to have someone to share it all with?”
mark pauses. he’s never really thought of it that way. in his head, life had always been a linear equation – work hard, achieve more, keep climbing. life was one massive ladder stretching endlessly upward. and he’d spent so much time focusing on the next step that he never stopped to ask himself what waited at the top – or if the view was worth it if there was no one standing beside him to see it.
“i think,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “i just figured love would happen naturally…if it was meant to.”
“and if it doesn’t?”
mark shrugs lightly, “then i guess i’ll survive.”
the answer makes you sad. because the way he says it sound so simple. so accepting. like surviving is enough. your gaze drops briefly toward the table.
“i don’t want to survive,” you murmured.
mark studies your profile as if you were the most complex research project he had ever encountered, trying to find the deeper meaning, the hidden trauma beneath the poise.
“i want to feel it,” you admit, voice barely audible, “at least once.”
mark’s brows pull together slightly, “feel what?” he asks gently.
“the love we’re supposed to feel.”
the words hung in the air. for a moment, mark forgot how to breathe. because suddenly, the girl sitting beside him doesn’t look like the confident sharp-tongued student that could dismantle a professor’s arguments in seconds and judged every little thing. in her place was someone who looked….lonely. that quiet kind of loneliness that makes something painful twists in his chest. and all he can think about is how softly your voice said those words, almost as if love was something fragile, something distant, something you weren’t entirely sure was real.
his gaze lingers on your face longer than it should. he wants to ask what happened? who hurt you badly enough to make you sound like that? who made someone like you, someone so beautiful and confident, talk about love like it was some impossible thing people were lucky enough to have? but all he can manage to say is–
“you’ll feel it,” he says softly, “why wouldn’t you?”
a small laugh escapes you then, though there’s nothing amused by it. mark didn’t know. he didn’t know that love didn’t exist in business. that love was the biggest privilege… the rarest luxury of all.
“yeah,” you sigh softly, forcing a practiced smile onto your face, “you’re right.”
but the smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes – the sparkle he usually looked for isn’t there.
you wave the tension away before he can question it further, reaching for your laptop and pulling it towards you like you hadn’t just cracked something open between the two of you.
“anyway,” you say lightly, pretending your voice didn’t break seconds ago, “if we fail this class after spending our entire lives in this library, i’m killing you.”
mark stares at you for another second like he knows you’re hiding something. that there’s more there than you’re willing to say out loud, a story that you weren’t ready to tell.
eventually, he lets you change the subject.
“if we fail this class, i’ll kill myself first to save you the trouble,” he jokes, making you shove his shoulder playfully again before you both turned back to studying.
late-night library sessions became routine after that, along with your shared convenience store meals, walks on campus, sitting together in shared classes. in the past month, you were together so much that other students started assuming that you were dating. whispers followed you through corridors, their glances lingering on the way mark leaned into your space or the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t watching. neither of you cared enough to confirm or deny the rumors.
truthfully, you were too immersed in the bubble you built – a world where you weren’t the heir to a retail empire. a world where you can simply enjoy another’s company without anything in return. just two regular people slowly starting to become inseparable without realizing it.
for mark, maybe this was just a beautiful friendship – a rare, honest connection in a competitive academic world.
but for you – it was more dangerous than that. because somewhere along the way, you realized life felt lighter when he was around. the suffocating weight of your father’s expectations, the looming shadow of your planned future, the coldness of your upbringing – it all seemed to fade into the background. with mark, you could breathe. you could laugh without calculating the costs. you could simply exist. it felt as though your impending doom was being held at bay by the mere presence of him.
“mark,” you murmur softly, eyes still focused on your laptop screen, “can you pass me my highlighter?”
a second passes, then another, and another. silence.
your brows furrow in confusion before you finally glance toward him – only to pause immediately.
mark had fallen asleep, his head resting against his arm beside the textbook opened to the last page he was reading. his glasses sat slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose, lips parted slightly, breathing slow and even.
your entire demeanor shifts, softening while you watch him. the usual furrow between his brows is gone now. no stress. no overthinking. no constant need to achieve something. he just looks peaceful.
carefully, you reach over, your heart pounding in your chest as your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. you gently slid the glasses off his face. you couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in them, but the excuse was flimsy – you just wanted a reason to touch him.
for a while, you stayed there, quietly looking at him beneath the soft library lamp. he’s beautiful. not in the polished way magazine models were beautiful. but in a quieter way. the kind that sneaks up on you slowly until suddenly you realize you could stare at someone for an eternity and still find something new to admire.
that was the moment the realization hit you – you had fallen for him.
it wasn’t a sudden explosion or a cinematic epiphany. it had been a gradual accumulation of small moments – the way he defended his ideas, the way he looked at you when you were being “judgy,” the way he made you feel seen.
it was an emotion that didn’t need theater or grand gestures. it felt as though your soul had simply recognized his and decided to come home.
slowly, almost hypnotically, you lower your head onto your arm beside him, studying every detail freely at once – details you didn’t want to forget. the curl of his lashes, the moles near his cheeks, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. and before you can stop yourself, you lean in a little bit closer. just a little. like gravity itself is pulling you toward him.
but the second you do – mark’s eyes flutters open.
you froze, your heart leaping into your throat, eyes widening at the initial shock of being caught. for a second, neither of you moves.
you didn’t pull away though, and to your surprise, neither did he.
mark’s sleepy expression slowly sharpened as his brain processes the situation. his gaze drops, flickering briefly to your lips, then traveling back up to your eyes, searching for something. the air between you thickens, charging with a quiet tension that had been building for months.
before either of you could overthink it – mark closes the distance, moving slowly, deep brown eyes locked on yours, giving you every possible second to retreat, to laugh it off, or to pull away. but you didn’t. until finally–
his lips touch yours.
a soft, tentative press at first, a question asked in the silence of the library. it’s hesitant, almost reverent and for a heartbeat — the world stopped.
your eyes fluttered closed as you savor the gentleness of it before pulling back just a little, your lips still brushing his, your voice a breathless, teasing murmur, “i thought you didn’t have time for distractions.”
mark’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity.
“you’re not a distraction,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave before his hand slid upward, warm fingers carefully settling at the nape of your neck, tangling slightly in your hair to pull you in again – the kiss deeper, more purposeful – every soft slide of his lips a confession.
SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME
💎 THE MEETING 💎
unfortunately, or fortunately, you were still trying to figure it out – your father had personally assigned you to handle the partnership meeting at yü skincare headquarters. which meant you were now sitting inside one of the conference rooms trying very hard to act normal while mark sat directly across from you.
it would’ve been fine, you had wanted to see him again after the launch party, to have another chance to convince him to accept your proposal…if it wasn’t for the fact his girlfriend was here too.
karina sat right next to mark, her presence a sharp reminder of the five year gap you were trying to bridge. she was currently locked in a heated fast-paced discussion with jeno, azur’s marketing director, their voices overlapping as they debated campaign concepts. zhong chenle sits at the head of the table, looking deeply entertained with their arguments.
you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the aesthetics of the campaign. both azur and yü skincare are already known in a global level. at the end it didn’t matter what the campaign concept was.
your focus was entirely on the man across the table.
you remained mostly silent beside jeno, nodding here and there, while your attention drifts toward mark for what was probably the hundredth time. and every single time, without fail, you catch him already looking at you, too. his eyes weren’t just glancing, they were searching, heavy with an unspoken weight. you swear you caught his gaze drop to your lips at times.
it doesn’t help that mark looks annoyingly good today. he wore a black polo with the sleeves rolled slightly past his wrists, exposing the lean strength of his forearms and the silver watch that glinted against his skin. every now and then his brows furrow slightly when someone says something scientifically inaccurate. you remember kissing those furrowed brows once. bad thought. very bad thought. you immediately force your attention back toward the screen.
“...i still think we should focus more on the science of it all,” mark said, his voice cutting through the chatter.
“if we lean too heavily into luxury branding, consumers might think it’s just another overpriced celebrity supplement,” he glances briefly toward the campaign mockups before his eyes flickered back to yours, “but if we explain how it works instead, consumers will be more inclined to trust the actual research behind it.”
god. even his work voice is attractive. you hate him. you want him to keep talking.
karina nods immediately beside him, “that’s a good point.”
your eyes flicker toward her unconsciously.
chenle glances between the presentation slides before nodding once, “sounds good,” he says easily, “let’s revisit the campaign tomorrow with that direction in mind. everyone’s dismissed.”
the room immediately shifts into motion. chairs slide back. laptops begin closing. papers shuffle. but before anyone can actually leave – chenle suddenly turns toward you, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
“so,” he says casually, “how’s the marriage proposal going?”
you nearly choke on your own spit. across the table, mark froze. beside him, karina’s eyes immediately dart between the two of you so fast it’s almost impressive.
you stare at chenle in disbelief. because of course he would say something like that in front of employees.
“what?” you ask carefully. you definitely did not tell anyone about your proposal to mark. you weren’t about to hand the world a front-row seat to your desperation and potential embarrassment.
chenle looks equally confused by your reaction, “with dejun?,” he added, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.
oh. right. you exhale a quiet, shaky breath, the tension in your shoulders shifting from panic to a dull, familiar ache.
“my wife told me you guys were finally getting married this year,” chenle continues, completely unaware of the emotional destruction happening elsewhere in the room. he smirked, leaning back, “i figured you finally fell for his charm after all these years.”
xiao dejun. the name felt like a heavy weight on your shoulders. he was the man your father had hand-picked for you when you were twenty-two – the son of his closest business associate, the heir of the #1 ice cream brand in the country. he was the five star standard of corporate matches – the perfect lineage, the flawless reputation, the strategic alliance. dejun was handsome, funny, kind. he always showed up with gifts upon gifts. there’s nothing, really, to complain about – except for the fact that he wasn’t the brilliant researcher you had fallen for.
before you can respond, your assistant, winter, who had been quietly taking notes near the corner of the room the entire meeting, carefully speaks up.
“ms. y/n,” she says gently, “you actually have a dinner date scheduled with mr. dejun later–”
your expression hardens instantly, the professional mask snapping back into place.
“cancel it.”
winter hesitates, her brow furrowing, “...it’s the twelfth date you’ve cancelled this year,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a cautious level, “your father isn’t very happy.”
“i don’t care,” you reply flatly, your voice cutting through the air like a blade, “cancel it.”
the room goes awkwardly silent. even chenle straightens slightly. but still – he’s chenle. so naturally, he keeps talking anyway.
“the married life isn’t so bad, you know?,” he chimes in, “highly recommend it, actually.”
you almost roll your eyes. of course he would say that. in a world of transactional unions and cold contracts, chenle was the blip – the one who had managed to secure both genuine love and immense power. it was a miracle you envied.
slowly, you scanned the room. everyone was still there, frozen in a state of pretend-busyness. karina awkwardly looks down at her laptop. jeno had become deeply interested in reorganizing his folders. and then there was mark, who hadn’t moved an inch, his expression an unreadable void – quiet, controlled, and terrifyingly still. but you could feel it. the tension radiating off him was a physical force, vibrating with a frequency only you could hear.
your eyes meet his for a fleeting, electric second before you snapped your gaze back to chenle.
“i really wish we weren’t discussing my personal life in front of our employees, mr. zhong,” your voice is calm, but it carried a frost that silenced the room completely.
chenle straightens up at the tone of your voice. out of everyone in your social circle – you’d always been the frightening one. you weren’t loud or explosive – you were controlled. the kind of cold that made people acutely aware the moment they had crossed a line. and chenle had definitely stepped way over it.
“right,” he coughs awkwardly, “ right, sorry. that was very unprofessional of me.”
“very,” you agree smoothly. the room stays painfully quiet. no one is brave enough to interrupt. after a brief pause, you turn slightly toward chenle again.
“i still have a couple things i need to discuss with director mark,” you stated, your tone shifting back into polished professionalism, “would it be alright if we continued using this room?”
at the mention of his name, mark’s head snapped up. his eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, burning with a mixture of confusion, jealousy, and a frustration that had nothing to do with business.
chenle nods, “yeah, of course,” he says easily, “i should head home anyway,” a smile softens his face instantly, “i have a very pregnant wife waiting for me.”
a quiet, involuntary laugh escaped you, the first genuine sound you’d made all meeting, “tell her i said hi.”
“i will,” he replied with smile, before finally heading towards the door.
one by one, the remaining employees follow after him. jeno gave a polite bow before taking his leave. karina gives mark one suspicious look before leaving too. winter quietly closes the door behind herself.
and then – silence.
mark remains seated across from you for a long moment, his posture rigid. then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, the mask of the polished research director finally slipping, replaced by the exhaustion washing over his features.
you simply watch him. the physical distance of the conference table acting as a barrier felt almost cruel. you were used to being by his side, your shoulders brushing his, the warmth of him grounding you.
“have you thought about it?” you ask softly.
“i already gave you an answer,” he replied, his voice cold and distant. like he’s deliberately holding the wall up between you, trying to shut you out.
“no,” you say calmly, “you didn’t.”
frustration flashes across his face, a spark of heat in his cold demeanor, “you literally met my girlfriend,” he snapped, his voice rising slightly, “was that not enough?”
you hold his gaze steadily.
“except she’s not your girlfriend.”
“wh-what?” he stammers, the composure he fought so hard to maintain fracturing in real-time.
you almost smile, leaning back slightly in your chair, entirely too relaxed.
“i had winter look into your relationship,” you shrug as if you were discussing the weather and not a blatant violation of his privacy.
mark stares at you in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape, “y-you what??”
“no evidence of a romantic relationship,” you continue smoothly, “at least not between the two of you. she’s dating some guy named kai. older. owns a popular nightclub in the city.”
mark looks seconds away from developing a migraine. he closes his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face.
“and you,” you finish calmly, “don’t appear to be seeing anyone at all.”
“y-you can’t just investigate me like that!” he exclaimed, completely appalled.
he has every right to be. but instead of feeling guilt, you felt a surge of triumph. you tilted your head slightly, watching the way his chest heaved with agitation, “why not?”
his eyebrows shot up, like he couldn’t believe what just came out of your mouth, “why not?!”
“i have the power. the resources.” you shrug lightly, the heir of azur speaking now. “besides, all this was public information. there wasn’t much ‘investigation’ involved. just a few clicks and phone calls.”
“that’s not the point!”
“then what is?”
mark opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again, a look of sheer frustration crossing his face.
you watch him carefully for another second before finally asking the question that had been rotting in your chest.
“so why did you lie to me?”
his jaw tightens immediately. he couldn’t look at you anymore. he stood up abruptly, “i will be excusing myself from this discussion, ms. y/n.”
he grabs his briefcase without waiting for your approval, already turning his back to you and heading to the door. panic flashes through you instantly.
“stop–”
he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow down.
before he can reach the exit, you move after him quickly and on instinct, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist. the contact was intense, a sudden jolt of heat that seemed to stop time itself. mark halted instantly, his entire body stiffening under your touch.
everything went quiet again.
your warm hand felt like a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound was the synchronized, heavy thrum of two hearts beating too fast.
“please…”
your voice broke, coming out softer this time, smaller, stripped of all the corporate armor. you weren’t the composed heir of azur. you weren’t the intimidating billionaire’s daughter who could buy and sell companies with a signature.
you were just you.
“...mark.”
the sound of his name in your voice nearly destroys him. it was the voice of the girl he had spent five years trying to forget and failing every single day. the voice he swore he’d give everything to and up for.
slowly, agonizingly, he turned back toward you. the second his eyes meet yours – the second he saw the raw vulnerability and the unshed tears shimmering in your gaze – his frustration cracked.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO
❄️ AUGUST: MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU. ❄️
“baby, where are we going?,” mark asked, his voice a breathless whisper against the shell of your ear, followed by a soft, airy laugh as your fingers were locked tight around his wrist, practically dragging him through the halls.
you didn’t answer until you slipped through the heavy door into a tiny, abandoned lab room, “i thought maybe you could use a break,” you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as your back met the door.
you didn’t give him a chance to respond. in one fluid motion, you reached up, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him towards you. his lips connected with yours in an instant – not the hesitant, shy kisses of the library a month ago, but something deeper, more certain.
a kiss that confirmed how well the two of you knew each other now. both of you smiled into the contact, a soft, breathless sound echoing in the small room as your tongues met in a slow, rhythmic synchronization.
okay…maybe a lot had changed since that night in the library. the tentative boundaries had dissolved, replaced by a magnetic pull neither of you could – or wanted to – resist.
and mark had lied – you were the biggest distraction of his life. every lecture he attended, every page of the textbooks he pored over, every ambitious goal he set for his future – it all started having versions of you.
you had become the singular, pulsing rhythm of his existence.
for the first time in his life, the relentless drive for academic perfection felt secondary. the presentations, the grades, the pressure to succeed – it all failed in comparison to the way you felt in his arms. he didn’t care that his focus was fracturing, he welcomed the chaos you brought into his orderly world.
mark realized that his heart had learned a new way to beat – a way it can only for you.
“breaks are good,” he teases, the inside joke sparking a small, breathless laugh between you, vanishing the moment his lips left yours, trailing kisses down your jawline to that sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, eliciting a soft, whiny moan from you as your head fell back against the cold metal of the door.
“what do you want, baby?,” he whispered directly into your ear, his breath hot and sending goosebumps down your spine.
“you know what i want, markie,” you pouted, voice winded, your body already humming with a need for him.
mark pulled back just enough to look at you, his silver glasses sitting prettily on his nose. he leaned in and kissed the pout away softly, sucking on your lower lip in a way that made your stomach flip. then – without breaking eye contact – he slowly sank to his knees.
from this angle, he looked up at you, his silver glasses glinting, his expression a lethal combination of devotion and lust. his hand slid up your bare legs, under the fabric of your skirt until his fingers brushed the lace edges of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin of you inner thigh with his thumb, circling closer and closer to your center without actually touching it.
“mark…please,” you whispered, voice breaking slightly as you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt, desperate for the contact.
he hummed a low, guttural sound of satisfaction, “patience,” he murmured, a playful smile on his lips.
slowly, agonizingly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs, eyes still locked on yours. once they were off, he tucked the lace into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk that was entirely too confident for the “nerdy” student the rest of the campus knew.
then – he leaned in.
the first touch of his tongue was hot. you let out a sharp gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place. mark ate you as if he was hungry, his tongue licking up and down your folds, tasting every drop of your wetness, then going up to swirl circles around your clit, flicking rapidly against the sensitive nub before sucking it deep into his mouth.
you hadn’t had sex yet – you had both agreed to take it slow. but the way mark worshipped you with his mouth made the idea of “slow” feel like a torture you were happy to endure. he knew exactly where to press, exactly how much pressure to apply. exactly how to use his fingers to open you up, sliding one, then two, deep into your soaking wet heat, curling his fingers perfectly.
“fuck–mark–right there–,” you gasped, your legs shaking around his shoulders.
he groaned against you, the sound muffled by your skin as he increased the pace. he was relentless, lapping you with the same focused intensity he had when he was concentrating on his research.
you could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your lower belly until your head was up in the clouds, eyes rolling back, body shuddering as your thighs unintentionally clamp around his head. he didn’t pull away, drinking every drop of your release, his tongue continuing to draw circles until the last of the tremors faded.
as he finally pulled back, breathless and glistening with your juices, he looked up at you with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion. mark stood up slowly, pulling you flush against him, your shaking legs barely supporting your weight as you leaned into him, listening to the thrum of his heart. he held you softly, arms around your waist, gently rubbing your back to soothe you from the high, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
when the world began to stop spinning, you pulled back just an inch, eyes fluttering open to find him staring at you. his silver glasses were crooked, sliding down the bridge of his noise, his lips swollen and pink – he looked absolutely undone.
a smile tugged at your lips as you reached up, gently pushing his glasses back to place, the simple, domestic gesture feeling incredibly intimate. mark caught your wrist, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.
“you’re my favorite break,” he winked, voice low, teasing.
“...and you’re a very good student, mark,” you joked, your voice still airy.
he lets out a soft chuckle, leaning in for a soft lingering kiss.
you weren’t the only distraction – mark was just as bad.
he craved you as much as you craved him. the only difference was you gave into his touch much quicker than he did yours, his moral responsibility stopping him most of the time.
except for right now.
mark loved to please you and tease you at the same time. and he was currently hitting two birds with one stone at the moment. because under the heavy drape of his cardigan, which he had strategically placed on your lap to act as a shield from the rest of the class – two of mark’s digits were buried deep inside your soaking pussy, stretching you open and claiming you in the middle of a lecture. your professor was going on and on about market penetration and consumer loyalty, not knowing mark was practicing a very different kind of penetration.
his fingers curl upward, dragging along your sensitive spot with a precision that made your vision blur. you kept your gaze fixed forward, staring at the presentation, but the words were nothing more than meaningless letters. you grip your pen as he continues playing with you, dragging your wetness up to your clit before sliding back into you over and over and over again.
your walls tighten around his fingers, a reflexive, desperate squeeze. you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull him deeper into your heat or push him away before you lost all control. but as he began to pick up the pace, you knew there was no escape.
he leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing you, his clean, cotton scent enveloping you, “focus, baby,” he whispered, his voice playful, “you wouldn’t want to miss the most important part of the lesson.”
you glance at him, your eyes silently pleading. you want him to stop. you don’t want him to stop.
you felt the first wave of a climax beginning to burst, your breath hitching – a small, broken sound escaping your throat that you barely managed to disguise as a cough. you were drowning in him, your pussy clamping down hard on his hand for every bit of friction. you wanted to scream, to arch your back and moan his name until the entire hall fell silent. but instead, you bit your lip, your fingers coming up to shield the gasp from your lips.
❄️ SEPTEMBER TO OCTOBER: THE WORLD, IN COLOR ❄️
the next two months were a blur of playfulness. your relationship with mark became a delicate dance of adoration and a healthy, simmering obsession. there were sneaky touches in the quiet corners of the library – your hand sliding up his thigh under the table while you both pretended to discuss, quiet nights in his small apartment where you spent hours tangled together innocently…or maybe not so innocently. you had done everything except crossing that final line, the pact of taking things slow still withstanding somehow.
but the physical chemistry, as explosive as it was, paled in comparison to the emotional haven he provided - mark was patience and kindness personified. neither of you had uttered those three specific words yet, but you felt it in every lingering gaze, every protective gesture, every day spent in each other’s company.
like that afternoon at the park, when he decided you needed to step out of your comfort zone and onto a skateboard–
“markie…i’m scared,” you whined, your voice sounding smaller than usual as you wobbled on the four-wheeled contraption.
he laughed softly, “babe, i’m literally holding you right now,” he pointed out, his warm hands softly placed on your waist, grounding you.
“well…hold me tighter!,” you groan, genuine panic in your voice. you’ve never done anything like this before. you were used to being prim and proper. piano lessons. language classes. afternoon teas — skateboarding was not on the approved list of activities for a girl like you.
mark didn’t tease you for your hesitation. instead, he guided your hips to help you find your balance, a steady presence that made the world feel less tilted.
“see? it’s not so bad,” he murmured softly, his grip on your waist loosening just a fraction. “you think you can do it if i let go?”
“ok–ok,” you nodded, trying to summon a courage you didn't know you possessed, “i’ll try.”
before he released you, he pulled you in for a quick kiss while you stayed standing on the skateboard, “you got this, baby.”
and then you were skating – all on your own! the wind whipped through your hair, the golden sun kissing your skin, and for a moment, you felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. mark jogged beside you, his laughter harmonizing with your own as you navigated the pavement, feeling like you were flying.
for a while, you were doing pretty well…until the wheel got caught on a tiny rock, which sent you tumbling straight to the ground.
mark was at your side in a fraction of a second, his voice laced with immediate concern, “holy shit, babe–you okay?!”
you winced, sitting up slowly to inspect your scraped knee. the skin was raw and bleeding. instinctively, you felt the old walls go up, terrified of being yelled at for being weak or clumsy, so you put on your usual front, that cool stoic composure that showed you could handle the pain, handle yourself. you braced yourself to tell him you were fine, to play the part of the girl who never falters.
but then mark reached out, his touch incredibly gentle as he carefully turned your leg toward him. he didn't look at the wound with pity, but with a strange kind of reverence.
“your first skateboarding battle scar,” he says in awe, like it was an achievement, “i remember mine…i cried for like 3 hours straight, my dad had to buy me so much ice cream.”
hearing him admit his own vulnerability acted like a key to a lock - the mask crumbled, and you let the tears fall, hot and fast.
“-it hurts a lot, markie,” you finally admit. because with him, you could be soft. vulnerable. you didn’t have to be so protective of your emotions knowing he will gladly hold it in his hands.
“yeah–i thought so,” he teases you playfully, leaning in to give you a kiss on the forehead, “come on…let’s clean that up.”
he settled you onto a park bench, disappearing for a few minutes to the nearby convenience store. when he returned, he knelt between your legs with a first aid kit, working with meticulous care to clean the scrape and blowing softly on the skin to soothe the sting. after carefully applying a spider-man themed bandaid, he pressed a tiny, sweet kiss directly onto the plastic.
then – he pulled three stems of vibrant gerbaras from his back pocket.
“congrats, skateboard warrior,” he says, a gentle, crooked smile on his lips. his eyes full of adoration reserved exclusively for you.
as you looked up at him, the weight of your own history pressed against your chest — you had known care, but you had never known love.
you had accepted that your future would be a mirror of your past – cold. lonely. meticulously managed. because for twenty-one years, your existence had been a cage. your father was a man of stone, a man who viewed emotions as liabilities. and then there was your mother – a ghost from the moment you were born, a sacrifice made for your first breath.
you had grown up in a house of echoing hallways and heavy silences, raised by a rotating carousel of maids and nannies – people who were kind, yes, but whose kindness came with a price.
but mark was different.
mark never asked for anything in return. he cared about you simply because he cares about you.
with him, the world had color.
the loneliness that had been your constant companion for two decades vanished whenever he looked at you with those honest, yearning eyes.
a tiny, fragile seed of hope had begun to grow in your chest – the idea that you could be loved for who you were, not for the empire you were destined to inherit or the image you were forced to project.
you only wanted this – the scent of the outdoors, the sting of a scraped knee, and the overwhelming, dizzying realization that for the first time in your life, you were truly seen.
“thank you, markie,” you whispered, your voice thick with an emotion you were finally allowing yourself to feel.
he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “always, baby.”
❄️ NOVEMBER: THE REMINDER ❄️
that hope was crushed before it could fully bloom.
“your father has heard about your grades dropping,” johnny’s vice broke the silence.
you were standing outside the university’s main entrance, the cool air clinging to your skin. johnny, your personal driver and security guard, stood tall right in front of you, the black sedan by his side. his expression was unreadable but there was a flicker of pity in his eyes that you hated.
“it’s fine,” you replied, your voice sliding into that cool, nonchalant mask you wore for the world, “i can get them back up. it was just a rough month.”
johnny sighed, a sound of genuine weariness, “he knows you’ve been hanging out with a boy.”
the air seemed to leave your lungs then, “h-how does he know that?”
“your father has eyes everywhere, ms. y/n,” johnny says softly.
the reminder hit you hard. in the bubble of your happiness with mark, you had forgotten who you were. you had forgotten that you were less a daughter and more a prized asset under constant surveillance. you had let yourself believe, even for a second, that you were invisible.
at that moment, a familiar figure appeared at the university gates. mark waves at you, his face lighting up with a smile that usually made your knees weak, but as he caught sight of johnny, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
you forced a quick smile toward mark before turning back to johnny, your voice a desperate whisper, “just don’t say anything, okay? i can handle it. i’ll fix the grades, i’ll be perfect. just…dont tell him about mark.”
“i won’t ms. y/n,” he replies, “but i can’t promise he won’t find out on his own.”
you nodded slowly, the dread pooling in your stomach. you knew your father. he didn’t just find things out – he hunted them down. he dismantled secrets until there was nothing left but the truth.
you saw mark walking toward you in your peripheral vision, his stride confident and eager.
“go. don’t bow. just get in the car and leave,” you hurried to whisper as johnny quickly followed your instructions, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling away from the curb without a word.
“baby, who was that?” mark asks as he steps beside you. he naturally reaches out, taking your bag from your shoulder to carry it for you, his eyes searching yours, sensing the tremor you were trying so hard to hide.
“no one,” you lie, the words tasting like ash. you curl your arm in his, beaming up at him with a fake radiance, as you guide him back towards the campus, “he just needed directions.”
as you walked, you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a briefest second. you clung to him, terrified that the moment you let go, the walls of your father’s world would close in and tear you apart.
SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME
💎 THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORLD. 💎
the air in the conference room felt suffocating for mark. he sat rigidly in his chair, the sleek surface of the table reflecting a version of himself that looked composed, professional and entirely hollow.
he wasn’t paying much attention. instead, he was trapped in a loop, his mind obsessively replaying the final moments of yesterday.
“...mark.”
the way you had whispered his name had sliced through his defenses like a razor. it was a sound he had tried to scrub from his memory for five whole years, the voice that had haunted his every failed attempt at moving on.
he remembered the moment his eyes locked on yours, expecting to see the cold, calculating mask you’ve been carrying lately. instead, he found raw, bleeding vulnerability. your gaze had been his undoing – it had cracked the carefully constructed wall of frustration he’d spent years building.
“why me?” he asked, sounding small and desperate, only wanting to hear one answer from you.
“because,” you had started, voice trembling, “because–we already know each other.”
wrong answer.
“not good enough,” he sighed, a sound of profound defeat, before slowly peeling your fingers from his grip. he had walked out, leaving you alone in this same room. but he had carried the weight of your gaze with him every second since.
“why is ms. y/n not here today,” mr. zhong’s voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding. he turned his gaze toward winter, who was sitting in your spot, her tablet in her hands.
“uhm,” winter stammered, shifting uncomfortably, “personal matters, sir…she’s asked me to sit in and take notes for the day.”
mr. zhong gave a curt, dismissive nod. mark tunes the meeting all out, just correcting a few technical facts here and there, his mind miles away. your disappearance is hitting him harder than it should. he hated it. absolutely loathed the way he can’t stop thinking about where you were or who you were with. he hated that a single day of your absence felt like a physical withdrawal, leaving him restless and irritable.
he had spent half a decade convincing himself that he was over you, that the life with the girl in seoul was a fantasy he had outgrown. but as he watched winter scribble notes in your place, mark realized with a sinking sense of dread – he was still just as enslaved to you as he had been at twenty-one.
he didn’t just want you in the room…he wanted to know what you were feeling. he wanted to know if you were thinking about him with the same destructive intensity that was currently eating him alive.
the silence of your absence was louder than any argument you could have had, and it was driving him insane.
you didn’t show up until 3 days later.
immediately, mark knew something bad had happened. your eyes are sadder – a depth of grief and exhaustion that seemed impossible, considering how hauntingly lonely they had already looked.
then, he saw it. a tiny, faint purple mark on your cheekbone that no one would notice if they didn’t look at you with the same precision as he did.
“i reviewed everything,” you said, addressing mr. zhong.
you haven’t looked at mark once this entire meeting. it was as if you were terrified that if you did, he’d unravel you completely.
“it looks good–my father has scheduled a meeting in our home office in two days for finalization,” you continued.
mr. zhong nodded, “alright, sounds good with me. mark and karina you’ll be attending with me…will you be present ms. y/n?”
“no,” you replied, a forced smile touching your lips, “i think it’s best for you if i wasn’t there.”
you keep it simple and mark desperately wants to ask why? why would the heir of azur exclude herself from a meeting in her own home?
the moment the meeting ended, you excused yourself quickly. winter followed closed behind.
mark couldn’t let it go.
“ms. y/n, wait a minute,” he called out, his voice echoing through the glass-walled hallway.
you stopped abruptly, your shoulders tensing as you turn to winter, your voice low, “i’ll meet you in the car.”
once she had disappeared around the corner, you turned to face him, the professionalism back on like a suit of armor.
“did we forget to discuss anything in the meeting?” you asked.
mark didn’t answer immediately. he stood there, reading you. a bitter thought surfacing from the depths of his mind – do i even know you?
five years ago, he had fallen for the girl you were. but he didn’t really know that girl, did he? there were so many things you didn’t say. so many things he wasn’t aware of. you had hidden your entire world from him, and now – that world seemed to be crushing you.
“if there is nothing else to discuss, i will be going, director,” you continue, your voice breaking him out of his thoughts—
he doesn’t care.
about the lies. about who you were then and who you are now. his heart is still beating for you the same way it did before.
he stepped forward then, slowly, noticing the way your eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise. he didn’t stop until he was in your personal space, the scent of your perfume intoxicating him. then his hand rose, his fingers carefully grazing your jawline, thumb moving with slow tenderness, gently caressing the hidden purple mark on your cheekbone – the touch light but with a heavy intent.
you have been exposed.
“who did this?,” he whispers, his voice thick with a mixture of care and fury.
your breath hitched, a broken sound in the quiet hallway. for a split second, the mask slipped, your eyes fluttered and every fiber of your being screamed to lean into him, to collapse against his chest and let him carry the weight of your world for just a little bit. you craved the sanctuary of his arms, the feeling of being seen and protected.
but you knew the cost. you knew that giving yourself a taste of heaven when you were destined for hell only made the fall more painful.
you pulled back, your expression snapping shut, turning ice cold, “excuse me.”
you turned away from him, leaving him standing alone in the glass hallway, his thumb still tingling from the touch of your skin. the silence between you once again becomes a deafening roar.
there was no point dreaming again.
he isn’t going to save you. he made that clear already.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO
❄️ BACK TO DECEMBER. ❄️
you were curled up on the couch of mark’s tiny apartment, him sitting right beside you. you spent most of your days here, claiming your apartment was “too far” and “too tiny.”
today, he had insisted on watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, swearing it was one of his favorite movies of all time.
you stare at the notification that pinged on your phone, a sigh leaving your lips.
“hmm?,” he hums as he presses a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder, “something wrong, baby?”
“my flight got cancelled due to the snow storms,” you murmured, turning your phone toward him.
mark’s eyes widened as he processed the words, “wait…so you can’t go home?”
you nodded slowly, a tight-lipped smile on your face. truthfully, you didn’t mind at all. the holidays have always been lonelier – a mansion full of people you didn’t know, a towering tree filled with presents you never liked and a father who showed up like it was a meeting and not a holiday. in hindsight, it might be nice to not pretend to care about all of it.
but the way mark is looking at you now seems like you just delivered the worst news of all time, his brows furrowed in that earnest, protective way. you almost laugh, he was too cute, too concerned for a girl who had spent her whole life pretending she didn’t need anyone.
“why don’t you just come home with me for christmas break?”
you quirked a brow, blinking up at him, “and meet your parents?”
“yeah,” he shrugs, as if he were suggesting you grab another round of ramen rather than introducing you to his family.
you lean back a bit, searching his eyes for any sign of teasing. but there was only that steady, unwavering affection.
“isn’t a little too soon? i mean…we’ve only been together for six months. i don’t want to intrude or make your family uncomfor-”
before you can finish your sentence, he shuts you up with a kiss that you melt into instantly. when he pulled back, he nudged his nose against yours, his eyes searching yours with tenderness.
“baby…no one should have to spend the holidays alone,” he whispered sweetly. if only he knew how many holidays you’ve spent by yourself.
“are you sure it’s okay though?,” you ask shyly.
“more than okay,” he insisted, curling an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his side, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. he sounded so certain, so effortless, as if bringing you into his world was the most natural thing ever, “now…watch this part, it’s my favorite.”
you smiled, a genuine, radiant, tiny thing that reached your eyes as you leaned your head on his shoulder.
you and mark arrive at his parent’s home two days before christmas day. the drive there had been a blur of falling snowflakes and heavy suffocating silence built from your whirlwind of anxiety. by the time his car finally pulled into the driveway, your stomach had tied itself into knots. for the first time in your life, you were truly nervous.
mark saw right through you. as you stepped out into the cold winter air, he reached for your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours before lifting it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.
“don’t worry,” he murmured, eyes searching yours, “they’re going to love you.”
you managed a small nod, hoping he was right. before you could spiral any further – the front door swings open. a woman rushed down the porch, her coat barely thrown over her shoulders, her face alight with pure joy.
“mark!”
your boyfriend barely has time to react before she’s pulling him into a tight hug.
“mom–”
“oh, look at you!,” she exclaims, pulling back just enough to grab his face between both hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, “you’ve gotten thinner! are you eating? tell me you’re eating!”
“i’ve just been busy, mom,” mark groaned, though he didn’t pull away.
“you need vitamins,” she insisted, her voice filled with motherly concern.
“i have vitamins.”
“you should take more!”
you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. mark looks absolutely horrified while his mother is completely unbothered as she presses kisses all over his cheeks.
“mom!,” mark groaned, his voice cracking slightly.
“what! i missed my baby!” she exclaims, lightly slapping his arm with a playful grin.
you let out a laugh before you can stop it. mark immediately turns toward you, his expression a mix of betrayal and embarrassment. you tried to look apologetic. you really do. but the sight of him standing there, ears red with embarrassment while his mother fussed over him, was simply too cute.
it was all so foreign to you — the casual affection, the ease of their interaction, the warmth radiating from a woman who loved her son without conditions or expectations. you had spent your entire life watching families from a distance and now you were standing in the middle of one.
eventually, mark manages to escape, stepping back to regain whatever shred of dignity he had left.
“mom,” he says, clearing his throat and gesturing toward you, “this is y/n.”
immediately, his mother’s attention shifts to you. you felt the air leave your lungs as she looked you up and down. in that moment, you realized exactly where mark got his intensity – she looked at you with the exact same focused, piercing gaze. for one terrifying second, the old instincts kicked in. you waited for the judgment, the assessment of your status, the cold calculation of whether you were “suitable.”
but then – her entire face lit up.
and before you could even utter a greeting, she pulled you into her arms. the hug was warm. soft. it felt real.
she pulled back just enough to cup your face between both hands, her touch gentle and sincere, “oh, you’re beautiful,” she said immediately, her voice brimming with warmth.
you blink, whispering a soft, “thank you.”
“look at her, mark!” she says excitedly, turning towards her son with an excited glow.
“i am looking at her,” he replies, voice softening with a smirk of amusement.
“she has such pretty eyes–and her nose–and her lips–”
you felt a sudden, treacherous prickle of tears in your eye, which felt ridiculous…she’s just being kind. but nobody has ever looked at you like this before. not as a tool for a merger, not as an heir to fortune — but as a person. like you belonged somewhere. like they were happy you existed. your throat tightened and you looked down for a moment, thankful that the falling snow hid the sudden shimmer in your eyes.
“okay, mom–” mark says eventually, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. you almost reached out to stop him, wanting to stay in that warmth just a second longer, “-don’t kill her now.”
“oh, i’m sorry,” she says sheepishly, though she immediately went back to hold your face, “i’m just so excited.”
“clearly,” mark comments, which she ignores completely.
“you know, he’s never brought a girl home before,” she confides to you, leaning in as if sharing a top secret.
you smiled, glancing at mark with a playful glint in your eyes, “really?”
“i was starting to think he was going to marry his research papers,” she sighs, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
“mom.”
“-or a microscope,” she continues relentlessly.
“MOM!” mark exclaims, his voice hitting a higher octave.
you burst out in giggles, the sound echoing through the driveway as he groaned loudly. even his mother joined in, her laughter melodic and bright.
“i’m serious,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “the boy works too much.”
looking at him now, you understood everything — why he was so patient, why he was so honest and why he’s the man that he is. he came from a house that felt warm. a place where the air was thick with love and the walls held the echoes of laughter. the kind of place where people tease each other because they know they’ll be loved anyway. the kind of place you had only ever dreamed of.
“come on,” his mother says suddenly, slipping her arm through yours and pulling you close, “let’s get you inside before you freeze out here.”
and just like that – she starts pulling you toward the house, her chatter filling the space between you. you looked back over your shoulder to see mark standing alone in the driveway, surrounded by snowflakes and two heavy suitcases. he didn’t look annoyed. he just stood there, shaking his head with a fond, helpless smile, following after the two most important women in his life.
the day before christmas, mark’s mom suggested he bring you to the tiny ice skating rink downtown. the weather was a bit better now, the sun peeking shyly through the clouds, making the fresh snow sparkle like scattered diamonds.
the rink itself was small, just a sheet of ice surrounded by wooden fences and strings of christmas twinkling lights. the only other people on the ice were a family with three children who skated with confidence. the rest of the town seemed to be preparing for christmas eve tonight. the only sound you could hear is from the overhead speakers currently playing music from the one employee in charge at the moment.
and then there was you and mark.
to say you were struggling would be the understatement of the century. you were fighting for your lives, both of you looking like newborn kittens trying to walk for the first time. one minute you were standing, the next your feet would betray you, sliding sideways. mark would lunge forward to catch you, his instincts to protect you overriding his own balance, only to send both of you crashing down.
the two of you fell on your asses way too many times that at one point, you just laid there.
“this is actually embarrassing,” you groaned.
mark was lying beside you, his chest heaving slightly, his cheeks flushed a deep, healthy pink from the chilly air as you two stared up at the winter sky.
“i don’t know what you mean…,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turned to look at you, “i’ve been falling on purpose. i just wanted to see how you looked from this angle.”
you let out a huff of laughter, the sound turning into a small cloud of steam. the smiles on your faces never wavered, a shared secret of clumsiness and joy.
after accepting total defeat, you rented one of the skating aids shaped like a polar bear, usually reserved for children learning how to skate for the first time. and now, you were pushing said polar bear across the ice while mark attempted to skate behind you, his hands resting firmly on your shoulders to steady himself.
“this tiny thing is carrying our entire relationship,” mark declared.
“respect the bear, markie,” you joked, glancing back at him with a grin, “he’s our hero.”
the three children passed you again. for the seventh time. one of them, a little girl who couldn’t have been older than seven, let out a high-pitched giggle as she skated past you with effortless grace, her eyes wide with amusement.
“we’re being judged by children,” mark sighed, though he didn’t let go of your shoulders.
“they’re just jealous because we have a bear and they don’t,” you countered.
the two of you dissolved into laughter again.
when a particular song came on, mark couldn’t resist pulling you closer towards him, his hands shifting from your shoulders to your waist. he leaned in, his head resting on the crook of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin and sending shivers down your spine.
he began to hum – then, he whispered the words directly into your ear, his lips slightly brushing your skin–
“saw so many pretty faces, before i saw you…now all i see is you.”
the butterflies exploded then – a surge of heat rushing to your cheeks. you tried to maintain some of your composure, but you failed miserably, smiling like an idiot as you leaned your head back against his shoulder.
in that moment, surrounded by the scent of winter and the warmth of his embrace, you felt a terrifyingly beautiful realization – you have never been this happy before. you found yourself wishing, with every fiber of your being that time would simply stop.
you wanted to stay right here forever, frozen in the ice.
christmas eve was spent gathered around the lee family’s dining table. the house smelled like meat, spices, and freshly baked pastries. soft christmas music drifted from the living room while colorful lights from the tree blinked quietly in the corner. the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to midnight, a feast large enough to feed twice the number of people spread across the table.
and for the first time in your life — christmas didn’t feel lonely.
you sat beside mark, your shoulder brushing his, your knees occasionally bumping beneath the table. across from you sat his older brother, a man who seemed to have made it his life’s mission to keep mark humble, teasing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. his mother occupied the seat beside his brother, her presence a radiant warmth while his father sat at the head of the table. the kind of family gatherings you’d only ever seen in movies, the kind you had secretly craved since you were a little girl.
before everyone began eating, marks father cleared his throat. the room immediately fell into silence as he folded his hands together and bowed his head slightly. the rest of the family followed suit, and you found yourself mimicking them, bowing your head in a gesture of belonging.
mark’s hand found yours beneath the table, his fingers sliding between yours, squeezing gently as his father began a simple prayer filled with gratitude. you wouldn’t exactly call yourself religious. in a world where your value was measured by your lineage and your obedience, you had never been given much reason to believe in anything. but if there was a god, you’d like to thank him for this moment, too.
immediately after the prayer, the silence broke into a flurry of activity – mark’s mom began piling food on your plate, urging you to try every single dish she had prepared. and every single one of them was better than every five-star meal you’d ever eaten. conversation flowed easily around the table – stories from mark’s childhood, his brother exposing family secrets, his mother laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
even mark’s father smiled more than you expected. he was quieter than the others but there’s a gentleness to him you hadn’t noticed initially. at first glance, he had seemed intimidating but after spending two days with the family, you realized all the lee men were all built from the same blueprint – quiet on the outside, soft on the inside. they didn’t shout their love, they lived it in the small, steady ways they cared for one another.
then, right in the middle of dinner – mark’s father looked directly at the two of you.
“so.”
the entire table went quiet. the clinking of silverware ceased. mark’s brother stopped mid-sentence, an amused grin spreading across his face.
“do the the two of you plan on getting married?”
mark nearly choked on his fried chicken while your eyes widened slightly, heart skipping a beat.
”dad!” mark managed to gasp out, his face flushing a deep, vivid crimson.
”what?” his father replied, completely unfazed.
mark looks absolutely horrified, his gaze darting around the table as if searching for an escape route. meanwhile, your heart had completely stopped. talks of marriage wasn’t anything new to you. you had been a pawn in the game since you turned eighteen, your father presenting you with a curated list of bachelors of his choosing. but — this was the first time you’d ever considered the word and felt happy.
“wh-what??” mark sputtered, his voice an octave higher than usual, “dad, we just started dating.” his ears were bright red now, a shade of embarrassment you’ve never seen on him before. he’s finding it very hard to look at you or anyone else at the moment.
unfortunately for him, his father wasn’t finished.
”what’s the point of dating if not to marry?,” he asked reasonably, pointing his chopsticks vaguely between the two of you, “you should date someone because you see a future together… don't be like all the other kids these days who are just doing it for fun.”
mark looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. but you didn’t mind at all. you didn’t find it awkward or overbearing. because despite how old-fashioned the conversation was – if mark had asked you to marry him right now…the answer would’ve been an immediate yes. you would say it before he even finished the sentence, give up everything just to ensure you could spend every christmas eve for the rest of your life at this table.
“uhm…” mark finally managed, his voice dropping, losing it’s frantic edge. his eyes flickered towards you briefly, the horror in his expression softening into something vulnerable, “we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice softened, “…yet.”
yet. the word lingered. small but full of possibility.
his father nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting from mark to you, his eyes searching, almost intuitive.
“but you love each other don’t you?”
the room suddenly felt much quieter. mark froze. and so did you. neither of you had said that word yet. not once. not out loud. you felt it – you knew you did. every second you spent with him made that increasingly obvious. but the words had remained trapped between you, unspoken and waiting for a moment that felt safe enough to hold them.
his dad continues relentlessly, “marriage is the easiest thing in the world, as long as you truly love each other.”
the simplicity of the statement felt like a blow. for mark’s family, love was the foundation, the easy part. for you, love was the most dangerous thing you had ever encountered – a rebellion against everything your father stood for, a flicker of light in a life designed to be cold.
thankfully – his mom finally intervened, sensing the sheer panic radiating off her son.
“okay, okay!,” she waved her hand dramatically, a bright melodic sound that broke the spell, "let them figure it out for themselves, okay? they’re still young, after all! they still have so many dreams to achieve,” she added lightly, a bubble of laughter slipping from her lips.
she turned to her husband and shook her head fondly, “god, you can be such an old man, sometimes,” she teases, the entire table dissolving into laughter then, the tension slowly disappearing.
”alright,” his dad chuckles, paying attention to his food instead.
everyone resumes eating after that, conversations returned to normal — stories about the ice rink, questions about classes, updates about work. the kind of ordinary conversations you’d spent your entire life missing.
but while everyone else talked — your gaze drifted toward your boyfriend.
he was laughing at something his brother had just whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the twinkling lights reflecting in the dark depths of his pupils. and you realized his mom was wrong–
you didn’t have dreams.
dreams were for people free to choose their futures. and your future had been decided for you long ago. you were a piece on a chessboard, a legacy to be preserved, a daughter to be traded for power.
as you watched mark steal a piece of meat from your plate with a cheeky grin because his mother had given you the best portions – you realized the truth.
the only dream you’d ever truly had is him.
it wasn’t a career, or a title, or a destination. it’s this. the sound of his laughter, the smell of his skin, the way his hand feels in yours. your dream was this family – filled with a loud, messy unconditional love that you had never known.
when the clock finally struck christmas day, “merry christmas” bounced around the dining room, overlapping with laughter and smiles.
mark’s mom pulled you into a hug so tight, pressing a warm kiss against your temple. his dad patted your shoulder once, a small smile appearing on his face. and his older brother gave you an awkward high five. then mark looked at you. he wore that soft, devastating smile you had memorized in every detail – his eyes crinkled, the slight tilt of his head. he leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss against your cheek.
“merry christmas, baby,” he whispered directly into your ear, your heart responding immediately.
for the first time you understood why people loved the holidays so much. it wasn’t the presents, or the decorations, or the food. it was the feeling of home. of being wanted. of being loved.
“ahhh,” mark’s mom yawns, stretching her arms over her head.
”you should head to bed, mom,” mark says immediately, his voice tender, “y/n and i can take care of the dishes.”
”oh, nonsense!,” she waved her hand dismissively, “y/n is a guest! she shouldn’t touch a single dish.”
you laugh. you wouldn’t mind washing up for her. in fact, the idea of contributing to his home, however small the task, felt like a privilege. even if, in reality, your experience with housework was limited to directing staff.
mark rolls his eyes, glancing at you with a smirk, “fine, i’ll wash the dishes,” he conceded, “she can supervise.”
“now that’s a good plan,” his mother declared, satisfied.
“mommm,” his brother suddenly spoke up from across the table, a dangerous smile appearing on his face, “i think they just want alone time to–”
before he could continue – mark’s foot connected with his brother’s shin under the table, “HYUNG!”
the table dissolves into another round of laughter. mark looked seconds away from throwing himself out a window. he wonders if his family has made it their personal responsibility to embarrass him as much as possible this evening.
“fine, fine….,” mark’s mom stood up while still chuckling. she was clearly her son’s only savior in this house of chaos.
“we’re gonna call it a night, the old people need their sleep,” she jokes before finally retreating to her bedroom with her husband, leaving the three of you on the dining table.
”have fun making out in the kitchen,” his older brother teases, leaning back in his chair.
”we’re not even gonna do that,” mark groans.
”whatever, lil bro…just don’t make me an uncle, i don’t have the money to spoil the child yet,” he stands up, pointing toward the two of you dramatically.
“oh my god, leave!”
”goodnight, y/n,” the older boy smiles at you innocently before getting up and walking back into his own room as well.
“goodnight,” you reply back, an amused smile lingering on your lips.
mark turns to you then with a sheepish smile, “god, i’m so sorry about them…we’re all so close i think we forgot what boundaries are.”
your smile softened immediately, the warmth in your chest expanding, “don’t worry about it, markie, it’s nice.”
the nickname made him smile automatically as you leaned forward, closing the small gap between you and pressing a gentle, lingering kiss against his lips to comfort him. mark melted instantly, as he always did when it came to you, his strength dissolving into a soft, needy vulnerability. when you finally pulled away, he looked significantly less traumatized, his eyes hazy with affection, almost glad that his family didn’t send you running.
“better?” you tease softly.
“can i have another one?”
you laughed, “wash the dishes first.”
as promised, mark ended up washing every dish and true to your role as a supervisor, you stood beside him drying them afterward. the kitchen was quiet and peaceful. the rest of the house asleep. christmas lights from the living room still casted a warm glow across the counters while the soft christmas music still drifted faintly.
neither of you said much, you simply basked in the usual comfortable silence and worked together naturally. passing plates. drying glasses. putting things away. it was such an ordinary, mundane task. and yet – you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you loved this over everything else. nothing had ever made you feel this at peace – standing in your socks in a small kitchen at one in the morning, drying dishes with the boy who owns your heart.
it’s the kind of happiness that made you want things you shouldn’t – a future that wasn’t a business contract. a home that smelled like christmas and laundry. a family that laughed until they cried. a life where the only expectation was to love and be loved in return.
you glanced toward mark, watching him absentmindedly roll up his sleeves higher while washing another plate and found yourself wondering what it would be like if this could be your life forever.
then just as quickly – the thought twisted into a dull ache. because deep down, you already knew.
forever was reserved for someone else – a stranger with no face. no name. a stranger who will never hold your heart the way the boy in front of you does. eventually, the clock would run out. eventually, the world would reclaim you and someone would take him away from you. and if forever wasn’t promised, if your time together was merely a beautiful, borrowed dream – then he at least deserved to know the truth of your heart.
❄️ IT’S CHRISTMAS AND I LOVE YOU. ❄️
mark placed away the last dish on the drying rack, the soft clink echoing through the quiet kitchen. before you could lose your courage – you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his back.
he sank into your embrace instantly, his body relaxing as if you were the only place he ever felt truly safe, hand instinctively settling over yours, squeezing gently, a tiny contented smile forming on his lips.
and finally–
“i love you.”
the words came from your lips, barely above a whisper. small. fragile. and completely terrifying. three little words you’ve never said out loud or to anyone before. three little words you never knew the meaning of until this very moment.
mark didn’t move. didn’t breathe. didn’t speak. and immediately panic started creeping into your chest. maybe it was too soon. maybe you had overstepped. maybe the weight of those words was too heavy for him to carry. maybe you shouldn’t have said it. maybe–
he turned around, his eyes sparkling.
“y/n…”
your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt.
“i know it’s too soon,” you rushed out nervously, “you don’t have to say it back right away–or ever–i just…wanted you to know and it’s christmas and everyone keeps talking about marriage and love and–”
mark cuts you off with a kiss. his warm hands cup your face, fingers sliding into your hair. this kiss felt different. it wasn’t playful or teasing or hungry. just – overwhelmingly tender. when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him, erasing every millimeter of space between your bodies.
“i love you, too.”
he said it so softly, the words seeping into every crack and broken place inside you, sealing the wounds left by a lifetime of loneliness.
“you know that, right?” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.
you nodded immediately but your eyes were already blurring, the tears coming in hot and fast, spilling over your lashes. he notices immediately, his thumb brushing your eye gently.
“why are you crying?” he whispered, his brow furrowing in gentle concern.
“i’m just happy.”
his expression softens completely, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever been trusted with. he leaned down, pressing a kiss against your forehead, closing his eyes as if trying to memorize the feeling of you.
the world outside his childhood bedroom ceased to exist. the two of you are squeezed into mark’s tiny twin sized bed, facing each other, legs tangled under the blanket draped over both of you, larger than the bed itself. the quiet hum of the heater and mark’s christmas playlist drifted through the room, the singular lamp in the corner casting a warm glow.
“feel free to ignore this question…but have you ever thought about it?...marriage?” he asks softly, his fingers tracing slow circles across the small of your back.
the real answer was no. in fact, you tried very hard not to think about it.
“with you?” you ask, teasing softly to mask the sudden tightening in your chest.
mark sputtered, the sudden shift in tone catching him off guard, “i mean–it doesn’t have to be with me,” he stammered, feeling nervous, “i just mean, in general…is that something that sounds appealing to you?”
“if i said no, would you break up with me?”
“no! baby–what?” a flash of genuine panic crossed his eyes at the mere suggestion of losing you. he looked almost wounded by the question, “forget i asked.”
you couldn’t help it, a soft chuckle escaped you, the sound freeing him from his self-inflicted torment. you reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb, your expression softening.
“i’d only want it if it’s with you,” you admit truthfully.
the confession hit him visibly. a deep, crimson blush creeping up his neck and flooding his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you had first met in that classroom.
“how about you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, afraid, “can you see yourself marrying me?”
he shifted then, turning around just enough to reach for the bedside table. you furrowed your brows, confused, as he grabbed a black permanent marker. then – without a word, he took your left hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle, lifting it up and drawing a circle around your ring finger.
your heart stopped.
“i’ll put a real ring on this finger someday, i promise you.”
he said it softly, watching as your gaze remained on the black ink – it was temporary, it was messy, and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever owned.
“i like this one better,” you muttered softly.
that earned a real laugh from him.
“no way…i’ll buy you the prettiest ring in the world, baby, i promise,” he brought your hand up to his lips, trailing slowly, searing kisses up your knuckles, then your wrist, before his lips finally found yours.
he lingered there, his breath warm against your mouth, “just wait a little while, okay?” he whispered, his smile shy.
you knew exactly what he meant. he had ambitions. he had other dreams.
you can't seem to find your words. and you didn’t want to make promises you can’t keep.
so instead, you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with a desperate, starving intensity. you pour everything you couldn’t say into that kiss – every unspoken fear, every hidden truth and every ounce of love that felt too large for your chest to hold, hoping that if you held on tight enough, the rest of the world would simply forget you existed.
the kiss deepened, shifting from a desperate plea into something hungrier. mark’s tongue swiped firmly against your upper lip, demanding entry and you opened for him instantly, the taste of toothpastes clashing with the heat of your shared breath.
as the kiss grew more frantic, your hand wandered, sliding down the expanse of his chest and stomach until your palm landed on the ridge of his cock, rubbing him through the fabric of his grey sweatpants.
“markie,” you whispered against his lips, “are we still taking things slow?” you punctuated the question with a light, deliberate squeeze, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.
mark’s eyes fluttered shut, his head falling against yours as he inhaled a shaky breath, “i really, really don’t want to anymore, baby,” he groaned.
“what’s stopping you?”
he paused, his expression flickering with a sudden, piercing vulnerability making your hand stop.
“can i be honest?”
you quirked a brow, small and playful, “when are you never not honest?”
he chuckles softly, shaking his head, “i’m a virgin,” he admits shyly.
you stared at him, momentarily stunned. given the amount of times he’s made you cum on just his mouth and fingers, you had assumed he was an expert.
a soft giggle escaped you, the tension breaking into something tender, “that’s why you were so adamant about taking things slow,” you realized.
he chuckles too, “i just…i don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“you literally won’t be able to,” you countered, your voice softening, “i’m a virgin, too.”
mark’s eyes snapped open, widening in sheer disbelief, your words hanging heavy in the air. the odds seemed impossible – that two people with this kind of magnetic, visceral chemistry could both be virgins. you knew exactly where to touch him, unravel him with a single look.
“so i guess we’ll just have to figure it out together,” you add, a small smile blooming on your lips.
he didn’t waste another second. he surged forward capturing your lips onto his again, “together,” he whispered against your lips, “everything…together.”
he kisses you deeper now, pulling you even closer before his hand starts wandering down until it slides beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping under the cotton of your panties.
you hum into the kiss, lifting your leg to curl around his hip, giving yourself up to him as his fingers start rubbing up and down your folds, teasing your leaking hole.
mark might be a virgin. but he had no problem when it came to research. and after six months of dating, he knows exactly how to prepare you, how to touch you, how to get you wet — he sinks two digits deep into your heat, your gasp muffling against his lips, your body arching instinctively.
you were acutely aware of the risk – his family is somewhere in the house and you’re pretty sure the justin bieber playing through his laptop right now isn’t enough to draw out your noises.
that doesn’t stop him from quickly curling his fingers inside you in that way that makes you bury your face in his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying your best to control the sounds passing your lips.
your hips begin rutting against his hand, seeking more, “markiee–” you moan softly, biting your lip hard to stifle the sound, your body trembling on the verge of a peak. he always knew that specific, electric spot deep inside.
you’re so close. so, so close. but you didn’t want to cum on his fingers tonight. you wanted to feel the weight of him, the stretch of him.
“wait–stop,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist.
mark froze, his chest heaving, his eyes clouded with lust, “why? you were so close,” he points out, his voice that strained pitch it always gets when he’s pleasing you, almost as if he gets off just by the mere action of getting you off.
“i want to feel you,” you whispered, “…d-do you have a condom?”
mark nodded quickly. he had been carrying one in his wallet since the day you started dating – just in case – a testament to his cautious, responsible nature. he reached for his wallet on the bedside table, pulling out the packet with shaking fingers. he almost can’t believe this is happening right now.
“do you know how to put it on?” you ask softly.
mark paused, a look of genuine uncertainty crossing his face. he let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle, “i-i actually don’t,” he admitted. “wait, let me watch a tutorial video.”
you couldn’t help but burst into a quiet giggle as he seriously reached for his phone, pulling up a youtube tutorial. this is, by far, probably the nerdiest thing he’s ever done – it’s endearing.
the room is suddenly filled with a robotic, educational voice discussing the importance of practicing safe sex and checking expiration dates.
“well…this is one way to kill the mood,” mark grunted, though he continued watching the screen with intense concentration.
“keep watching, markie,” you teased, “i got you,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss under his ear.
and before he could react, you disappeared beneath the heavy duvet, crawling between his legs.
“wha-”
he didn’t get to finish. you swiftly pulled down his pajama pants and boxers, exposing his hard, leaking cock and without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.
“fuuck–baby,” he whines, his head hitting the pillow as he peeled the blanket back to watch you fully.
the educational video continued to drone on in the background, a surreal contrast to the sight of you sucking him. you coated him in spit, your mouth tight and warm and his mind was a chaotic mess – one hand trying it’s best to hold up his phone and keep up with the video, the other gripping the sheets to keep from cumming right then and there.
as the video finally demonstrated how to roll the latex, mark quickly pulled you off his cock.
“okay, okay baby–i got it,” he gasped, grabbing the packet again as you sat on your knees, still in the middle of his legs, watching him, completely amused.
“i gotta do this…and then this,” he muttered, rolling the condom down the length of his shaft with a tiny groan, the feeling of the latex tightening around his cock entirely new.
then he looked at you, his eyes dark and searching, “how should we do it?”
you didn’t answer with words, simply pulling off your pajama pants and underwear, leaving you wearing nothing but his oversized university sweater, which swallowed your frame. you crawled back up to him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as you positioned yourself, caging him in with your thighs.
slowly, you began to rub your soaking wet pussy against his condom-covered cock. you had dry-humped plenty of times before — this position was somewhat familiar but the feeling was entirely different. with only the thin latex between you, everything seem magnified. you could feel the throb of his pulse, the heat of his skin, the sheer size of him pressing against your opening, teasing.
god, it felt good.
the friction was driving you both insane. the way his cock hits your clit with every glide earning a silent moan from you while mark’s breath was coming in jagged hitches, his hands gripping your waist with a strength that bordered on desperate, yet he remained still, letting you set the pace.
you pulled back from the kiss just an inch, your foreheads resting against each other, your voice a trembling whisper–
“mark…please. put it in. i want you inside me.”
mark swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he looks up at you with raw vulnerability, mixing with an intense hunger. he didn’t just want to take you, he wanted to make sure this was perfect.
“are you sure?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, “i don’t want to hurt you. i–i don’t know exactly how much…if it i’ll be too much.”
“i’m sure,” you whimpered, shifting your weight, “please.”
slowly, with caution, mark grabbed the base of his cock, you guided him, aligning him to your soaking wet entrance. as the head of his cock first touched your opening, you let out a sharp, shallow gasp. it was already so much more than his fingers.
“you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice strained as he fought the urge to just thrust upward, his fingers digging into your hips to anchor you.
“yes..yes, let’s keep going.”
you lowered yourself inch by inch. as his cock started to slide into your tight heat, you felt a sudden, sharp pressure. it was a fullness you had never experienced, a feeling of being completely occupied. you froze, your breath catching in your throat, your muscles instinctively tightening around him.
“wait, wait,” mark whispered, his eyes fillled with concern as he takes in every bit of your reaction, “does it hurt? tell me if hurts, baby. i’ll stop. just tell me.”
you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, doing your best to relax. the initial sting was fading, replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth and a deep, aching want of more. you felt the stretch but it felt right.
“i’m okay,” you whispered, “it just…it’s a lot. but it feels good. i want more.”
reassured, mark let out a nod as you sunk further down, feeling the way his cock expands inside you.
“god, you’re so tight,” mark groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, face contorting in a mix of pleasure and disbelief, “baby…you feel…incredible.”
as you finally bottomed out, feeling the base of his cock press firmly against your pussy, you let out a long, shaky sigh and collapsed onto his chest. the two of you stayed like that for a moment, chests heaving in unison, the only sound the distant beat of the music from his laptop and the frantic drumming of two hearts beating as one.
“are you okay?” mark whispered again, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against him.
he kissed your temple, his lips lingering there, “i’m…i’m actually inside you,” he laughs.
you let out a soft, shaky laugh, “i’m perfect. you’re perfect.”
you stayed draped across his chest for a few more minutes, getting used to him before slowly shifting, pushing yourself up on your palms to look down at him. mark’s eyes were dark and dilated, completely focused on you.
“i want to move,” you whispered, your voice thick with desire.
“me too,” he groaned, his hands sliding from your waist down to your ass, lightly squeezing the soft flesh, “just…do what makes you feel good, baby.”
you experimentally lift your hips, sliding up the length of his cock, the friction against your sensitive walls sending a wave of pleasure through you. you let out a soft gasp, your eyes fluttering shut. then you sank back down, letting him stretch you again. you continue this over and over, finding the rhythm of your pleasure.
mark let out a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his hips instinctively twitching upward to meet you. he was fighting for control over his own body. he didn’t want this to end quickly, wanting to savor every single second of your first time together.
“t-that feels s-so good, baby,” he groaned, reaching up to pull you down into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue tasting of desperation and love, the kiss mirroring the slow, grinding pace of your hips.
as you found a rhythm together – mark’s hand wanders, sliding his fingers beneath you and rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure.
the combination was too much. the pleasure spiked, an electric current that snapped through your entire body. you arched your back, head tossing back as a loud, unrestrained moan ripped from your throat, echoing through the small bedroom.
both of you froze instantly.
you stopped mid-ride, your breath hitching, your heart pounding so loud. mark’s hand stayed frozen on your pussy, his eyes wide as he looked up at you. the silence that followed was deafening, making the distant music from the laptop sound like a roar.
you leaned down, your voice a frantic, hushed whisper, “fuck…mark, do you think your parents heard that?”
mark stared at you for a beat then a slow, wicked smirk spread across his lips, the one you only see when the restraint he practices snaps. he gripped your hips firmly, pulling you down hard against him.
“i honestly don’t care,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, sounding raw and hungry, “that was so hot.”
you leaned down and nipped at his lower lip, a playful smirk on your lips, “you’re such a dirty boy.”
“only for you,” he teases back, rolling his eyes playfully and earning a chuckle from you.
you giggled, “can you actually get on top? my knees are starting to hurt.”
mark didn’t need to be told twice. as he pulled out to reposition, you let out a small, disappointed whimper, at the feeling of emptiness. you scrambled together, limbs tangling in the sheets, until you were flat on your back and he was hovering over you.
“ready, baby?”
you nod in response.
the moment he slid back in in one deep thrust, both of you let out a simultaneous sigh of pure relief. riding him had been fun but being pinned beneath him felt different – more surrender, more intimate. you could focus entirely on the feeling of him as you sank into the mattress, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around him.
mark moves with a steady rhythm, no longer holding back as much, the raw hunger in his eyes evident every time he looked down at you. as he drove deeper — his cock angled upward, hitting a specific, sensitive spot deep inside you.
your eyes rolled back into your head, fingers digging into his back, “oh god…right there…markie, right there,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaking.
he heard you loud and clear though, the sound of his name in that tone driving him crazy. he focused his movements, hitting that exact spot again and again. and with every stroke, your walls clamped down on him even tighter, squeezing his cock in pulses.
mark let out a choked sound, his jaw locking. he felt like he was losing his fucking mind. he was so close – so dangerously close – but he refused to finish without you.
“please come for me, baby—please,” he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel.
“just…don’t stop–,” you whisper in a moan.
he reached down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing it with a frantic, expert intensity. that was your undoing. he leaned down and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing your moans into his own mouth.
you felt the tension snap as you peaked, your entire body shaking under the force of the orgasm, eyes shutting close, jaw slacked in a silent moan, as your toes curl, the heat traveling through you.
mark couldn’t hold on any longer. the feeling of you cumming around him was his final trigger.
“fuck, i cant–,” he whined against your cheek, his body stiffening. he gave one last, deep thrust, as he buried his face on the crook of your shoulders, spilling moans only reserved for your ears as he filled up the condom. he collapsed onto you, his heartbeat matching yours, both of you trying to catch your breath.
slowly, he lifted his head, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips.
“i love you,” he whispered, his voice still raspy and broken from the intensity of the moment, “god, i love you so much.”
you reached up, framing his face with your hands, “i love you too, mark. so much.”
he let out a contented sigh, nuzzling into your neck one last time before he slowly pulled out of you. as he moved back slightly, he paused, his gaze dropping to where you were open and glistening. the sight of your swollen pussy inviting him. without a word, mark leaned back down, licking from your opening up to your clit.
you let out a sharp, sharky breath, your hips twitching instinctively, “mmm…markie…”
he hummed against your folds, tongue swirling around your clit, attempting to clean you up. but the pleasure was almost too much. your nerves were raw, every touch feeling too overwhelming.
“stop—,” you breathed, gently pushing at his shoulders, “stop, mark…it’s too much.”
“sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, “you just taste so good, baby.”
the words make you blush but you disguise it with a playful roll of your eyes. he kisses your inner thigh then before sitting back on his heels, looking down at his own cock which was still semi-hard and protected, the condom now filled with the evidence of his release.
a look of genuine confusion crossed his face. he looked at the condom, then at you, then back at the condom.
“wait,” he muttered, his brow furrowing, “how do i actually take this off without…you know, making a mess everywhere?”
you burst into a fit of giggles, the tension fully breaking as you grab his phone from the bedside table, unlocking it and clicking on the youtube app once again. mark lets out a chuckle as he lays beside you, watching you with adoration as you begin scrolling for another tutorial video.
on christmas morning, you woke up before him, thighs still feeling a bit sore. mark was still out cold by your side, his mouth parted slightly, his breathing slow and his hair a chaotic, beautiful mess against the pillow. he looked so cute. you lingered there for a moment, staring at him with a swelling warmth in your chest, taking a mental screenshot of this version of him.
but then the sound of the piano, a familiar melodic tune, drifted through the hallway. you quietly slip out of his bed, careful not to wake him. you make yourself presentable enough as you slip out of his room in your pajamas and mark’s oversized sweater still clinging to your body.
as you stepped into the living room, the music became clearer, filling the space with a warmth that matched the holiday decorations. mark’s mom was seated at the piano, her posture elegant, her fingers dancing across the keys with effortless grace. you stopped in the doorway, momentarily breathless, simply admiring the way she seemed to merge with the music.
the moment she noticed you, her entire face lit up, “oh! good morning sweetheart,” she beamed, her fingers never missing a beat.
“good morning, mrs. lee…that sounds really beautiful,” you praise her.
“come–come sit,” she urged, gesturing toward the space beside her.
you obeyed, sliding into the space next to her. she paused for a heartbeat, looking at you with a flicker of curiosity and excitement, “do you know how to play?”
of course you knew how to play. piano lessons were a must in your world. a sign of properness and wealth. but beyond the expectations of your father, you had genuinely fallen in love with the instrument. you loved the way a single chord could express a grief or a joy that words were too clumsy to handle.
you nod softly, “yes…i can play.”
“oh! that’s wonderful! join me then,” she says, her excitement increasing tenfold.
you let out a small, shy chuckle before your fingers found the higher register of the keys, tentatively entering her melody. you followed her lead, your notes weaving around hers, creating a rich harmony that filled the room.
at one point, in a moment of playful improvisation, the two of you hit two notes that just sounded horrible together. the sound was jarring and terribly off-key, clashing against the melody. the silence that followed lasted only a second before you both burst into delighted laughter, the sound echoing through the house, warm and unfiltered.
unbeknownst to you, mark was standing in the shadows of the hallway. he had woken up to the sound of music and had followed it, stopping just short of the living room. he leaned against the doorframe, watching. he can’t help the tender smile spreading across his lips as he looked at you – in his sweater, laughing with his mother, your fingers on the keys – and felt a surge of love so strong it nearly knocked the wind out of him.
there were so many things he still didn’t know about you. so many hidden layers, secret talents, and quiet fears he had yet to uncover. but as he watched you, he felt a profound sense of peace. after the promises whispered last night, he knew he didn’t have to rush. he was grateful that he now had forever to learn everything there was to know about you.
SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME
💎 THE FATHER. 💎
“the boss will see you shortly, please follow me,” winter’s voice was quiet and professional as she led the zhong team deeper into the mansion. mr. zhong walked beside her, unimpressed. meanwhile, karina couldn’t stop looking around, her expression a mix of awe and curiosity.
mark couldn’t blame her. the place was absurd in its scale and its extravagance. every room they passed looked like something straight out of an architectural magazine. floor to ceiling windows overlooked the gardens, paintings that probably cost more than entire houses hung from the walls, and the polished marble beneath their feet reflected the chandeliers above them.
it was beautiful. and mark fucking hated it – he hated the cold, pale blue of the walls. the endless hallways that felt designed to keep people apart. the silence, a heavy suffocating void.
as they walked, a sickening realiztion settled in his gut – this was your world. the loneliness he felt just walking through these halls was likely the only constant companion you had ever known.
after passing several more hallways, winter finally stopped before a pair of open double doors. immediately, mark’s gaze locked onto the man standing guard beside the entrance. his heart skipped. it was him. the same man from seoul. the one you had claimed was “just asking for directions.” their eyes met and a flash of mutual recognition sparked between them. the security guard din’t look away. instead, his expression softened into something that looked painfully like pity, almost sad, as if he knew a secret that was about to break mark’s world apart.
but before mark can dwell on it, a voice shattered the silence – a voice that sounded like a scream from the depths of a drowning soul.
“I STILL HAVE TWO MONTHS!”
the entire hallway froze.
“THAT WAS OUR DEAL! WHY ARE YOU MOVING THE WEDDING TO NEXT WEEK?!”
karina’s eyes widened, her head snapping toward her best friend. mark felt his stomach drop.
“please wait a while,” winter intervened quickly, pointing to the velvet chairs lined against the wall. mr. zhong, ever the stoic, sat down without a word, his face a mask of indifference as he motioned for mark and karina to do the same. none of them spoke.
inside the office, a man’s voice answered. not loud. not angry. not screaming. he didn’t need to. his voice was deep, controlled, and resonated with a terrifying level of absolute authority. a voice of a man who didn’t ask for things – he dictated them. he was power itself.
“y/n. i refuse to continue discussing this.”
mark had never met your father, but in that single sentence, he understood exactly who the man was. it was chilling how calm he sounded. like the two of you were just having another business disagreement and not discussing your entire life.
“I’M NOT MARRYING HIM!” you yelled. the sound raw. the sound of someone who had run out of options, out of breath, and out of hope. mark has never heard you sound like that before.
and then, your father laughed, dry and humorless that sent a shiver down mark’s spine.
“and what?” he asked, his tone dripping with a cruel, mocking curiosity, “you’re going to keep waiting around for that boy you swear loves you?”
mark’s breath hitched, very aware the he was that boy.
“i gave you more than enough time,” your father continued, his voice sounding bored, almost exhausted by your resistance, “it has been reported to me that you already proposed to him.”
mark can’t breathe. his lungs seized and he felt the world tilt on its axis.
“and he turned you down,” he snickered, like being right makes him happy.
every word felt like a knife to mark’s chest.
“–so stop playing these games y/n,” his voice hardened, the boredom replaced by a sharp, cutting edge, “it’s embarrassing for my reputation.”
and that was your ugly truth wasn’t it?
that this whole time – you waited. you had been in a state of suspended time, waiting for mark to reach his dreams, for him to become a man your father couldn’t dismiss. waited for a version of him that could stand beside you without being crushed by the weight of your family’s empire.
for five whole years, your world had stopped. you had lived in a frozen moment of hope, clinging to the memory of a christmas day, believing that the purity of that love was a tether strong enough to pull you back to him when the time came. you had played a dangerous game of patience, enduring the suffocating grip of your father, all while believing that if mark just reached his dreams, he would be the one to rescue you.
you had simply failed to factor in the most devastating variable – that he would no longer want to stand by you. and how could he? in his eyes, you weren’t a prisoner. you were the one who left him.
“i don’t love dejun” your voice came again, smaller this time, fragile and utterly broken.
“you don’t need to.” the answer came instantly and something dark flashed across mark’s expression.
“love isn’t necessary.”
your father sounded almost annoyed now, as if your desire for affection was a tedious error he had to correct.
“so because you’re miserable…” your voice cracked, “i have to be miserable, too?”
mark sat frozen in his chair, his knuckles white. the picture is so clear to him now – the bruise he’d noticed. the hollow loneliness in your eyes. the sudden, desperate proposal you had sent him, the way you whispered his name in the conference room, not as a command, but as a prayer.
“not everyone gets to have what they want,” your father replied, his tone flat.
then–very quietly–so soft that everyone outside almost missed it, you said–
“you did. you married who you loved.”
the silence that followed was predatory. slowly, your father rose from his chair, “you know nothing.”
“everyone tells me mother loved you,” you whispered, the bravery of the desperation taking over.
“enough.”
“and i know you wanted to choose her over me.”
“enough.”
and i know–”
“ENOUGH!”
the roar shook the very foundations of the mansion, followed immediately by a sharp, sickening slap! – the sound of his palm connecting with your cheek, ringing throughout the office and echoing into the hallway. you didn’t scream. you didn’t even gasp. you barely reacted at all, a chilling testament to how accustomed you had become to the violence.
but outside the doors, mark’s entire body stiffened, his pulse pounding violently in his ears, the sudden urge to walk-in coursing through him. but before he could move a muscle, a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.
“sit down.”
mark looked at mr. zhong in utter disbelief. the younger man’s expression was tight, his eyes clouded with a weary, distant soundness. his voice a low, commanding warning.
“don’t get in the way of family matters.”
“but–”
“it isn’t our place.”
the words felt like a slap to mark’s own face. who was he in this world? in this fortress of power and blood, he was nothing. he was a researcher, an employee, a ghost. he had zero leverage over the monster in that room.
he looked around, his gaze frantic. he saw the security guard who hadn’t moved an inch. what kind of security guard doesn’t protect? he looked at the maids who continued their tasks with robotic precision, their faces blank. no surprise. no shock. no horror. like it was just another day. he looked at winter, who was staring intently at the wall, her jaw clenched, pretending nothing happened.
mark felt sick.
how often does this happen? how often have you cried behind closed doors? how many bruises had gone unnoticed because nobody dared to notice them? how many times have you walked out smiling afterward, pretending along with everyone else?
all this time, he had convinced himself you had turned into ice. he thought you were cold, manipulative — a woman who had traded her heart for a corporate throne. he thought you had become someone he didn’t recognize. he realized now, with a crushing weight in his chest, that you hadn’t changed. you had just learned how to survive.
then — you walked out of the office.
mark’s gaze is stuck on you as you stopped for a fraction of a second, your eyes rimmed with a raw, painful red. your lower lip split slightly, a small bead of crimson blooming against your skin. it wasn’t enough to alarm a stranger – but more than enough for him. enough for the man who memorized every curve of your face. enough for the man who couldn’t stop seeing you in every dream. enough for the man who still loves you.
you froze when you saw him, not expecting an audience to your shame.
for a second, your expression crumbled. and mark saw her – the girl from seoul. the girl who taught him the meaning of love. the girl who gave him the entire world.
then, just as quickly, you forced back the mask – cold. untouchable. professional. you looked right through him, your eyes turning into shards of glass, and you said nothing, simply walking away, the click of your heels on the marble sounding like a countdown.
mark remained standing there, paralyzed. for the first time since seeing you again, the anger, the confusion and the hurt were gone. in their place was a hot, blinding fury. not at you. but at the silence of the hallway, the maids, the guard – the man behind the double doors who thought power gave him the right to destroy.
and most of all, he was furious at himself.
you had been drowning in plain sight. you had reached out your hand in the only way you knew how. and for someone who prided himself on his brilliance, mark realized he had been the blindest man in the room.
PART TWO: COMING SOON.
an: oof well that was an emotional roller coaster...but have no fear! we're not done yet! next part will heal you, i promise. just wait a little while, okay? also i hope the different timelines aren’t too confusing! let me know what you think of this part! thank you for reading :3
💍 likes, reblogs, and comments are not required but is very appreciated
💍 if you enjoyed this story and would like to show extra support, my kofi is open!
synopsis: for the first half of your life, you’ve always loved lee donghyuck. you finally learnt to stop loving him but the universe plays a cruel joke by making him your marriage partner.
word count: 22.9k
tags: drama, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, unrequited love, unresolved feelings, mentions of mild panic attack, fluff, angst with happy ending
playlist recommendation: urs by niki, blue moon by niki, drop dead by olivia rodrigo, bleach by 5sos, start over by 5sos
authors note: tbh I’m surprised I even finished writing this but since it’s done and his birthday aligned with the completion of my fic, I thought I should just post this here. happy birthday haechan and to everyone else, enjoy!
The first meeting between you two happened when you were mere children. You were taller than him, by a handful of inches of course but it still mattered to him. Donghyuck didn’t like it. The adults teased him relentlessly while you were oblivious to it.
“What a cute pair!” His grandfather would say. You had your usual gummy smile when you heard that, simply accepting the truth. You liked Donghyuck. You think he was smart, confident and cute. You were his best friend and he was yours. If all the adults had the same opinion about you two being a perfect match, the only consensus to your younger self is that it must be true.
Donghyuck, ever the boy, would openly frown at any sweet comments about the two of you but when it was just the two of you, things were different. He would fix your pigtails when it came loose. When you came over to his house for a play date, he would surprise you with a dress up doll. His actions were confusing but that didn’t deter you. It felt like a secret between the two of you. The way he quietly showed you care and concern made your tiny heart swell. It was enough if it meant keeping Donghyuck by your side.
When you reached your tween years, the meetings naturally grew lesser. From seeing him once every season to seeing him annually, your relationship had shrivelled but your hope hadn’t. The yearning had always lingered at the back of your chest. It was an ache you ended up growing up with.
Polite smiles and cold gazes are exchanged and beneath it all was your longing. Every change does not go unnoticed by you. Donghyuck has grown taller, brazen. He has his own group of friends that hangs around him during year end parties while the rest of the crowd can only stand in the sidelines, admiring their presence. His laughter is more interesting than the crowd.
It stays the same for a few years up until you turn seventeen. You had wished for a quiet celebration with your loved ones but your mother had insisted on a bigger celebration. She had rented out a popular restaurant in the heart of the city. It had an open rooftop concept and the party was swarming with guests, majority had been decided by your parents. Your own friends and relatives were there, thankfully.
You stuck with your new best friend for moral support. It was much needed when Donghyuck walked towards your table. He carried his usual self with suave, a complete difference from the panic rising in your chest. You leaned in closer to your cousin when your best friend Yizhou says, “I’m not drunk am I? That is Lee Donghyuck.”
There is barely any time to recover from your shock. Donghyuck saunters to the table. Your mother is overjoyed, her face splitting into a wide smile as she gets up to greet him. Your father joins her and you force yourself to rise, slowly approaching them. You barely notice the friends he had brought with him, your eyes are glued onto him.
Donghyuck finally turn towards you and you hope the hitching of your breath isn’t audible. “Happy birthday,” he says as he extends a wrapped present to you.
“Thank you.” You mumble, stiffly accepting the gift. Your mother forces a laugh as if to compensate for your lack of emotions.
“Go. Enjoy the party boys!” Your mother tells him and his friends.
“It’s so nice of him to show up.” You hear your father say.
When Donghyuck disappeared into the crowd, you confronted your mother. “Why did you invite him?”
She takes a sip of her wine, fixing you with a smirk. “It’s your birthday dear. Everyone is invited.” While you love your mother, her ambition has always been bigger than your own interests. The worst part is that you can’t find it in you to be whole heartedly mad, the little girl in you is pleased by Donghyuck’s presence. It makes you feel pathetic. You thought that once you had grown older, you would have grown out of your affection for him. Clearly you were wrong.
It’s your birthday party but your attention has drifted towards Donghyuck. It should tick you off that he is the centre of attention at your party but you’re relieved to have this small chance to collect yourself.
“Hey, I need a toilet break.” You inform Yizhou as you pass your gift to her. Your cousin overheard you and tried to call after you, but you waved her off, rushing to the bathroom.
It’s times like these you wished you picked up smoking. You settle for gently patting your face down with water. Your hands are pressed against the sink, staring down at your own reflection. In a matter of hours, your birthday glow has faded and you’re back to the lovesick girl you used to be.
The thought brings tears to your eyes. “Fuck, no.” You refuse to cry over him, not when he’s a few feet away from you. You can’t even hate him. It is not his fault that you harbour such helpless feelings for him.
Looking at your reflection again, you try to smile. It comes out small and uncertain and you can’t help but laugh at the silliness of it all. You feel more like your usual self, taking it as a sign to join the party again.
You push the door ajar and the person behind it yells, “Oh, fuck!”
“Oh my god!” You try to shut the door again, eyes clenching shut but you’re met with resistance. You slowly peel your eyes open and meet the victim of your actions. The only intelligent reply you could come up with is prolonged silence.
Donghyuck clears his throat and gently tugs the door handle towards him, urging you to step out of the bathroom and into the corridor. “Right, I am sorry about that. Thank you for holding the door and um,” you pause, doing a once over at his appearance. “Are you hurt?”
His soft laughter surprises you. “I’m okay.” The grimace from your face doesn’t fade so he adds, “Didn’t you used to say that I was strong? I can handle a door.” Donghyuck winks as if to prove a point.
Your eyes dart towards the direction of your party, ignoring the flutter in your chest. You side step Donghyuck, getting out of the tiny corridor. The reason for your brief escape just had to appear right before you.
“Were you going to the men’s? You should go. I am leaving too.” You ramble, already walking away.
“No.”
Your steps halt and you slowly turn around. “Huh?”
There’s a decisive look in Donghyuck’s eyes and the way your stomach churns tells you that whatever is going through his mind, you will inevitably cave into his whims.
“I saw you leaving your party so I followed you.” He takes a step toward you. “I– Do you wanna dance with me?”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
There’s a redness that fans his cheeks but Donghyuck remains confident, even going as far as offering you his hand. The music is fainter in this part of the rooftop but even then, the scenery felt perfect. The potted trees were decorated with fairy lights to illuminate the area, along with the warm lights installed along the trees.
As far as your imagination goes, having Donghyuck willingly giving you his sole attention is much better than anything you have ever imagined.
“Are you sure? Don’t you miss the dance floor? I know it calls your name.” You tease.
At your remark, Donghyuck affectionately rolls his eyes. “The dance floor could use a little breather from my presence.”
You break into a shy grin when you slip your hand into his. “Okay. Then let’s take a breather together.”
It’s like the whole night was leading up to this moment. The song transitions to a slower beat, giving you the opportunity to sidle up Donghyuck and try to relax.
His mouth brushes the side of your head. “Follow my lead,” he softly instructs. It is as good as a warning you got from him. Donghyuck pulls you close so that you’re chest to chest. His free hand rests slightly above your hips, merely holding you but the reaction for you instant. It feels like his warmth is burning through the expensive material of your dress. Your eyes nervously dart around his figure.
Donghyuck’s voice softens. “Look at me.” Your eyes slowly shift towards his face. It starts at his forehead where stray strands of hair effortlessly frame his head, then it lands on his arched brows. They’re perfectly shaped because of course, the heir of the Lee’s has a beautician to tidy up his god sent feature. You purposely avoid his eyes, moving onto the slope of his nose and his inviting lips.
Bad move. You make a misstep and Donghyuck holds you firmer than before, his hand pressing into your hips to support you. You clutch onto his back a little tighter, probably leaving wrinkles in his pristine suit. This time you do meet his eyes, albeit apologetically. “I‘ve never done this before,” you tell him.
Donghyuck smiles and he slowly dips you, letting you lean back onto his sturdy arm as he brings his face to yours. “You have done this before though.”
You almost missed his reply. Your mouth part in confusion, a question already leaving your lips. “When?”
He brings you back to your proper position but this time, you feel caged in. Your brows are furrowed and Donghyuck’s humour dims. “You really don’t remember at all?”
When you shake your head, Donghyuck sighs wistfully. “It was my uncle’s wedding. You were seven and I was eight. We danced on the dance floor that day.”
You squint at him as you try to jog your memories. Slowly, bits and pieces of your earlier memories from your shared childhood comes back to you. It was an outdoor wedding on a sunny day. You were appointed as the flower girl and Donghyuck was the ring bearer.
“Wait,” you said as the memories came flashing in. “You were the ring bearer and you tripped on the carpet at the end of the aisle. Oh I remember now!”
You were grinning widely but Donghyuck wasn’t all too pleased. “Seriously? You couldn’t remember our dance but you remembered my embarrassing moment?”
You shrugged sheepishly. “Help me remember more of that day.”
Donghyuck laughs. “We weren’t really dancing, just swaying like this,” he says before changing the pace to an uncoordinated rhythm, causing you to squeal.
“Are you sure?” You exclaimed as you latch your chin over his shoulders.
Donghyuck suddenly stops. “Still don’t remember?” You lift your head to look at him and he’s already staring you, an unspeakable thing glimmering in his eyes. You shake your head.
“I spun you around.” You take it as a queue to pull back from his chest until you’re eye to eye. The first spin comes, with his arm raised above your heads. You try your best to follow his lead and you end up resting your hand on his chest, a bubble of laughter erupting from within you.
“That was clumsy of me.” Donghyuck agrees with a smile. “Try again,” he softly says. This time you are prepared and when you spin, you barely even trip. You beamed brightly as you look up at Donghyuck for approval and he nodded encouragingly.
Your smile drops a little when you tell him, “Unfortunately, I still don’t remember the wedding.”
“Hmm?” There’s a lilt in his voice that you didn’t expect. “Maybe this will help you remember.”
A soft peck lands on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You look at Donghyuck and he’s blushing when he pulls away. The tension between the two of you is palpable, your faces inches away from one another. It would be so easy to lean upwards and close the distance between you but you remained rooted in your spot.
“I think I’ll remember this better than our first dance from a decade ago.” Your voice comes out as soft as a whisper, barely heard above the noise.
Donghyuck releases you from his hold and he takes a step back, withdrawing himself from your shared space. You try to school your features to hide your hurt.
“I guess I’ll see you at the end of the year. Happy birthday Y/N.” There’s a guarded look in his eyes and you want nothing more than to scream at him but you don’t. You can’t. A lot of unsaid words were stuck in your throat and endless thoughts running through your mind as you watched Donghyuck turn his back on you, walking away from you with your fragile heart in his hands.
You didn’t tell any one of that sacred incident, opting to keep it to yourself. When you returned to your party, Donghyuck was long gone even though his friends stuck around. You ignore the skeptic glance they sent your way and plaster a smile for the rest of the night.
That same night, your dreams took you back to a forgotten memory, one where you’re dancing with your childhood best friend. His grip in your hand is warm and clammy but you didn’t mind, flashing him a smile. You’re still taller than him but even you can admit that Donghyuck is catching up to you in terms of height difference. The rest of the wedding-goers fade away and Donghyuck is leaning in. There’s alarm bells going off in your mind but you let it happen, his soft lips leaving a chaste peck on the apples of your cheeks. Donghyuck is saying something but it sounds garbled. You try to focus on his shy smile as the dream sequence slowly slips away from your consciousness.
When you wake up, you dart straight for the pile of gifts in the corner of your bedroom. You dig through the stacks of presents and take the wrapped gift that Donghyuck had given you. You’re sitting on your calfs, carefully tearing at the wrapping paper to unveil a sleek red box with gold embossing on it.
You cover your mouth with your hands, staring at the gift in disbelief. Inside the box, a gorgeous Baignoire in gold sits in there, waiting to be worn. You want to reach for your phone to send Donghyuck a text but you realised that you don’t even know if you had his number to begin with.
Amidst your shock, you finally notice the card that came with the present. You take the card to read what was written on it.
I can’t believe you’re 17 now. Time surely flies by when you’re busy growing up. I know you’ll wear this well.
lee donghyuck x
You don’t realise you’re crying until a stray tear lands on the back of your hand. You quickly wipe away the tears and gather his gifts in your arms before going to your storage trunk. In it is your most valuable possessions. It has started when you were young and you had developed an obsession with pirates. Donghyuck would always use it as his hiding spot for hide and seek.
You’re hit with a wave of nostalgia when you open up your trunk. There’s plenty of room for more possessions that you hope to collect in years to come. You carefully set the card down and put the jewellery box on top of it, just to hide it from any potential prying eyes. With a heavy heart, you will yourself to close the trunk.
“It’s his twenty first, you should be there!”
“I dunno,” you say as you turn the party invite around in your hands. Your thumb caresses the family crest embossed into the card. It has been ages since you had received an invite to Donghyuck’s birthday. To say you were curious would be a lie. “Besides, why would he have a party at his parent’s house? Shouldn’t it be at a club?”
Yizhou shrugs. “I don’t know? The Lee’s run a tight ship I guess with him being their heir and all that stuff. It would be safest to host a party at their estate.”
You’re not fully satisfied but her logic makes sense. “Your family got an invite too?”
“It was addressed to me, just like how your invite has your name on it.” Seeing as how you’re not convinced, Yizhou tries a different approach. “A masquerade sounds fun doesn’t it?”
“Yeah but it’s Donghyuck’s. Something isn’t quite right.”
“Then come to the party with me. Find out whatever it is that you’re suspecting him of.”
Without meaning to, you glance over at storage trunk situated at the end of your bed. It has been almost three years since you had received the priceless gift from him. It remains untouched by you.
“Okay,” you said softly.
“Okay?”
You nodded, holding the urge to take your words back. Yizhou squeals. “Yes! Thank you!”
You pull your best friend in for a hug, smothering Yizhou as she struggles against your strength. Your bright laughters carry through the night and your unease sits at the back of your mind.
And so, you’re left with a moments notice to scramble for an outfit. You have been to plenty of parties but a masquerade is a whole new ballgame. There’s a slight thrill behind the anonymity of the event and it serves as a comfort for you to lean into. Your mother is beyond thrilled to hear that you had accepted the invite. She had given you free rein on your choice of outfit and in a small act of rebellion, you decided to find yourself a vintage dress worthy of your mother’s credit card.
All that’s left was the mask. You browsed countless websites for a mask suitable to your likings and one finally caught your eyes. That purchase had also gone onto your mother’s credit card.
Even though it was not expected of you, you still wished to bring Donghyuck a present. Yizhou and your close cousins were of no use so you turned towards your father for help.
“Could you help me find out from Mr Lee what Donghyuck would want for his birthday?”
Your father tilted his head sideways. “Are you sure you came looking for the right parent?”
You walked further into the study room and dramatically dropped onto the vacant seat. “I don’t want to ask Ma for help. She will end up taking control of the gift and probably terrorise Mrs Lee.”
Your father snorts in agreement. He takes in your dejected mood and his face softened. “I don’t think me or Mr Lee would be of much help. Whatever the gift is, I know Donghyuck would appreciate it because it came from your heart.”
His words were true. You had been trying to avoid personalising your present but a meaningless present would be pointless for the both of you. “He grew up well,” your father suddenly says.
“What do you know of him? We only see him once a year.” You can’t help but challenge your father, curious as to what he thinks of your childhood best friend.
He clicked his tongue in disagreement. “No, you and Ma only see him at the end of the year. I have seen him socialising at the country club.”
Donghyuck is charming and has ambition which makes him a threat in your societal pool. While you typically choose to distance yourself from society, Donghyuck was rising through it, making all the right connections one handshake at a time. As far as you know, he was still in college. To think that he was juggling his ambitions on top of school was impressive to you.
“What does he do there?”
“He mostly plays tennis.” You hummed thoughtfully. It’s enough of a lead for a perfect gift. You thank your father and take your leave, occupied with a mental list of potential gifts for Donghyuck.
The day finally arrived. You went through your day slowly, not wanting to rush into it for fear of your nerves getting to you. By the time you were finished scrubbing yourself clean, you were left with sufficient time to get ready and head to the Lee’s estate.
Your family driver drove you to the party and you spent the majority of the ride stuck in your head, fiddling with the rings you had slipped on. You look downwards and gaze at your wrist, where a simple chained bracelet sits. The thought of wearing the watch Donghyuck gifted you had crossed your mind but you weren’t sure if you wanted him to notice you tonight.
“Y/N?” You’re startled out of your daze by your family driver. He turns in his seat, sporting a deep frown on his face. “Y/N, are you unwell?”
“No.”
“Are you sure because I can take you back home and–”
You cut in, “I am fine. I promise. I just had my mind elsewhere.”
The frown on his face loosens and he nods, respecting your wishes. “I’ll bring the car around at midnight but if you wish to stay here longer, or wish to leave earlier, do call me.”
You smile, grateful for the loyalty of your family’s employees. “Got it.”
Your hand reaches for the car door when your family driver hurriedly adds, “I think Mr Lee will be pleased to see you tonight.”
“What?”
“You are stunning. Even a mask cannot hide your brilliance and he would be a fool not to know that.”
It was what you needed to hear, a firm push to get you out of the car and into the party. You tied your mask onto your face and gathered your handful of belongings in your hands. Security and a staff checks your party invite and you hand over your gift at the entrance hall before being escorted into the main room.
You hadn’t known what to expect but Mrs Lee’s party planning blew your expectations out of the water. Waiters walk around the room with a tray of drinks and by the corner, there’s a buffet table with an assortment of sweet treats.
A masked stranger walks up to you, stealing your attention away from the party decor. “Fine evening Miss.”
You awkwardly smile, thankful to be able to hide behind your mask. “Hi. You don’t have to be formal with me.”
His laughter is warm, a low timbre that is surprisingly pleasant. “I’m sorry. I guess I got nervous given the fact that half of the room is looking at you.”
Confusion clouds over your eyes. “Me? You probably meant us.”
He shakes his head. “You,” he repeats with more emphasis.
Slowly, you look around the room and notice the crowd has grown bigger during the time of your conversation. Maybe the masks serves as a shield for everyone tonight. People barely shy away from your gaze, comfortable to watch you from afar behind the safety of a mask. Your skin prickles uncomfortably and your smile grows tight. “I dont understand.”
The lights in the room brightens up and the murmur of the crowd increases. Donghyuck enters, gliding into the room. “Come on,” the kind stranger beckons and you follow, the two of you moving through the crowd to get closer to Donghyuck.
He’s donned a silky blouse in a shade of baby blue. The blouse leaves little to no imagination, a bold opening at his chest and the strings were barely tied together. His trousers are just as tight. You kept your gaze on his mask. It’s intricately designed and it helps distracts you from your wandering thoughts.
“Thank you everyone for coming tonight. My parents, who aren’t here tonight, bestowed this party onto me for my twenty first.” Donghyuck pauses and the crowd chuckle. “However, I am thankful for the overwhelming turn out. I want to keep it short and sweet. I wish everyone has an enjoyable night." Anyone who was holding a drink raised their glasses in the air, toasting to Donghyuck's speech. You watch him as he smoohtly downed a flute of bubbly. The ones nearest to him hoots and hollers at his bravado, some even patting him on the shoulder.
The crowd had disperesed but your gaze remains on Donghyuck's figure as you finally piece your thoughts together. This man is a stranger to you, just as much as you are a stranger to him.
A soft touch to your arm pulls you away from your thoughts. You look at your companion who was patiently waiting for you. "Do you mind if you were to keep me company tonight?"
Seeing as how you have yet to find Yizhou, you accept his kind invite. You offer him your hand and he gladly accepts it. "I'm Jung Sungchan, by the way."
You vaguely remember hearing his name in passing though you cannot recall his face. "And I'm Y/N Y/L/N."
His face brightens, probably with recogniton but he doesn't press on about your identity which you are glad for. "Have you taken a proper look around the room?" Sungchan asks you and you shake your head. He breaks out into a wide grin, almost conspiratorial. "I'll show you which dishes to avoid."
The night takes a pleasant turn. You and Sungchan tried various food and drinks, stuck in your own bubble and genuinely enjoying each others company. You find out that Sungchan used to play soccer with Donghyuck in the little leauges, a past time you hadn't known Donghyuck had gotten involved with. In exchange, you tell Sungchan that you're Donghyuck's distant family friend.
His company was much needed and you hadn’t realised it. Sungchan makes you laugh when he breaks out dance moves that mismatch the beat of the song. Sungchan makes you laugh when he spins you around on the dance floor. Sungchan makes you laugh when he properly showcases his dance skills.
“You are such a fucking liar!” You yell over the music. Your tongue is looser than your usual poised self. Thanks to the unsupervised crowd, the two of you shared several glasses of alcoholic drinks. Now, the alcohol courses through your veins, leaving you a little unguarded. “You can dance! Hell! You probably invented dance!”
Sungchan chuckles and gently pulls you in. “You are drunk. Let’s get you some water.”
You reluctantly follow him, letting Sungchan pull you through the throng of partygoers. He stops in front of Donghyuck, quickly greeting him.
“Hyung! Happy birthday!” Sungchan greets.
Donghyuck looks at Sungchan then at the masked girl standing close to his back. Their fingers are loosely wrapped together and Donghyuck smirks. “Picking up a girl at my birthday party?”
“What? No!” Sungchan insists. “Y/N’s tipsy. Or drunk? Either way, I’m bringing her out for some fresh air. We’ll be back though!”
He takes a proper look and recognition dawns over him. “Y/N?” Donghyuck’s confusion gets drowned by the noise. Sungchan successfully pulls you through the crowd and you two disappear from Donghyuck’s sight. He belatedly notes that you didn’t acknowledge him. A sudden heaviness weighs on his chest as he realises that you’re at his party, spending time with his close friend.
Outside, you take in a deep breath. Sungchan had guided you into the Lee’s estates gardens. It felt like you had stumbled into a forgotten memory having been ages since you had last stepped foot in there.
You undo the tie of your mask and blindly toss it onto the bench behind you. Sungchan does the same. He chuckles, amused by your drunken behaviour. “Do you know who I am?”
You open your eyes and look at him. “Surprisingly, I do and I am drunk.” You decidedly plop down on the empty bench.
“Can you stay put? I need to go back in and get you some refreshments, maybe scavenge for whatever snacks there are left.”
“Okay but while you’re at it, can you find Yizhou and bring her to me?”
Your request is silly, you don’t even know if Sungchan knew her but Sungchan indulges in it. “Sure. I’ll be back.” Sungchan spins on his heels and takes his leave.
For lack of better things to do, you begin riffling through your purse. You take your time to fix your makeup then unlocking your phone to take some selfies. After a series of blurry pictures, you give up and start taking pictures of the garden.
“What are you doing?” The unexpected interruption causes you to let out a shrill scream, nearly dropping your phone in the process. You turn to glare at your intruder. Donghyuck is standing at the end of the bench, staring at you unapologetically.
“What the hell,” you cussed instead of answering his question.
He wordlessly offers you a mug. It’s nothing like the fancy glassware that is being used at the party. Your eyes narrow in suspicion. Donghyuck sighs deeply. “It’s warm water. I heard you’re drunk.”
“No I’m not.” You say rather petulantly as you accept the drink. “Thanks,” you quickly mutter before taking a sip.
Without your invite, Donghyuck settles down into the empty space beside you and you glare at him again. He merely ignores your childish reaction.
The warm water helps and gives you a little clarity but you don’t want to admit it out loud to Donghyuck so you remain silent, clutching the mug close to your chest. You decided to keep your gaze straight ahead, focusing on a bush of roses.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” He quietly admits after some time.
“Of course I did. We’re still friends even though we haven’t acted like one in a long time.” You replied, equally as quiet.
The obvious distance between you two can no longer be ignored. You can’t help but ask. “Why did we stop being friends?”
Donghyuck surprises you. “I guess I wanted to see if I could be a big boy and live my life without you circling in it. Make my own choices instead of trying to live the life everyone wants for me.”
The corner of your lips twitches, partly amused by his raw honesty. “And are you doing well?”
You turn to look over at Donghyuck and you note the dozens of emotions swimming in his eyes. He seems lost and your heart aches for him.
“No, I am not.” Donghyuck shakes his head, “I am not worthy of you, Y/N.”
Your breath hitches. You’re instantly sobered up. Even without explicitly saying it, you know what Donghyuck is referring to. You feign ignorance. “What are you on about?”
“Y/N… You are a remarkable woman. Don’t get tied down to me. You deserve a chance to find someone else, meet other people. Anyone you end up marrying would be lucky enough to have you as their partner.” Donghyuck chooses his words wisely, deliberately rejecting you before you’ve even gotten a chance to try.
“And so? You want me to marry someone else just because you’re insecure?” Your words sting Donghyuck and he visibly flinches away from you, seeking comfort in the distance between you two.
“That’s not it,” he tries again but you’re not having it. “Then what is it Donghyuck?” You ask, exasperated by his confusing nature.
“It’s not fair because neither of us has a say in this marriage agreement.”
You shakily inhale. “Does the fact that I want you scares you?”
Your heart lurches to the bottom of your stomach. His silence is deafening, a reply in itself. You turn your head away from him, refusing to let Donghyuck see the beginnings of a breakdown surfacing onto your face.
“Donghyuck, I didn’t come here tonight to beg for your attention. I only came because I was intrigued by the fact that I had received an invitation. Whether it was your decision or your parents, I don’t care anymore. You don’t want me here? Fine, I’ll leave but you terribly confuse me. Why did you come here to take care of me at your own party? Why did you tell me not to leave? Why did you dance with me and kiss me on the cheek only to run off? Why did you get me an expensive gift and a handwritten card for my birthday just to ignore me? I don’t get it.”
Donghyuck’s mouth parts open to say something, anything, but the words are caught at the back of his throat. He’s never seen you this devastated before and he is the cause of it. Your high strung emotions had finally snapped and it came out pouring out of your mouth, no longer able to push it down.
You abruptly stood up from the bench. “At least now I know what you think of me. I am just a burden from your past and I’ll stay there. I will get out of your way.”
Every step away from Donghyuck hurt more than you’d like to admit it. You wanted to look back at him. You wanted him to chase after you. You wanted him to comfort you.
You’re so caught up in your greed and hurt that you don’t notice two figures hiding behind the nearest pillar. A clothed hand reaches out and pulls you into their hiding spot. You recognise Yizhou through your blurry vision. “Ning,” you manage to croak out before bursting into tears.
Yizhou pulls you into a comforting embrace and Sungchan moves, covering you with his broad figure. Your heartbreaking cries are loud enough for anyone nearby to hear but you couldn’t care less. You fail to notice Donghyuck standing a couple of metres from the three of you, an anguished look on his face. Sungchan glares menacingly at him and Yizhou fixes him with a look of disappointment.
Donghyuck returns to the kitchen through the staff entrance, mug in one hand and your masquerade mask in another. He is too dazed and he doesn’t notice the whispering staffs as he passes through the house, decidedly ditching his own party. Donghyuck carefully places your mask on his nightstand before falling into bed, recounting the night before everything went wrong with you.
Life moved on, making it feel as though nothing had changed between the two of you. You had no idea what ran through his mind and decided that it was not worth fixating on. Again, you grew up without him by your side. You went off to college and moved out of your parent’s place much to your mother’s dismay. There was still one thing in your life that she could control which was your marriage prospects.
Over the years, the Lee’s hadn’t hinted any change in uniting your families in matrimony and you had no interest in finding a prospective marriage of your own. It is the only reason why you allow your mother to meddle.
One day, your livelihood had changed under the guise of your monthly family dinner. Instead of your usual spot, your parents told you to meet at a fine dining restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. Your clothes were rumpled from running around campus the whole day. You were sure that your hair had lost its curls over the course of the day.
“Y/N? You wore this the whole day?” Her thinly veiled judgment was not out of the ordinary but your suspicions should have been raised when she subtly spoke with the hostess.
Too bad you hadn’t noticed because your father was speaking with you. He brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. “You look beautiful. Your mother is just on edge tonight.”
“For what?” You frown as the two of you trailed behind your mother.
“We have guests tonight.”
Before you could press him for more answers, the hostess stops in front of a pair of sliding doors. You have no choice but to brace yourself for whoever is waiting behind those doors.
The door slides open, revealing a married couple and their son. “Please come in! We’re so glad you could make it to dinner.” Mrs Lee says.
Your parents naturally step forward into the room, greeting their friends. You wish to stay rooted in your spot but the hostess is looking at you funny. You slightly bow to them and make your way inside, standing closely to your parents.
“You remember Y/N?” Your father asked the Lee’s.
“Of course!” Mrs Lee answers. You offer her a shy smile and she returns it by enthusiastically pulling you down into a warm hug. Mrs Lee, just like your parents, had grown too old for socialising at year end parties. Your generation had taken over the scene which meant that the last time you had met the Lee’s was over five years ago. She still wore the same perfume and you relaxed into the hug, now wearing a genuine smile on your face.
Mrs Lee lets you go and you turn to greet Mr Lee. “Thank you for the invite Mr Lee.”
He casually waved you off. “No need for the formalities. You seem like you’re doing well, Y/N.”
“I am. I hope you are doing well.”
From behind, you heard Donghyuck’s voice. “Mr Y/L/N. Mrs Y/L/N. It’s so great to see you again.”
You finally turn towards him. While your mother showers him with compliments, you stay silent, observing Donghyuck. He smiles and laughs appropriately, even bantering back with your mother.
Mr Lee addresses the room. “Let’s settle down. We’ll catch up over the courses.”
The elders easily settle into their seats which leaves you no choice but to sit next to your father, the seat that is directly across from Donghyuck’s. You keep your gaze down.
After the first course is served, conversation picks up amongst the elders. You keep your reactions to yourself and train yourself not to react whenever Donghyuck speaks.
Mr Lee changes the flow of the conversation. “And Y/N, are you in your final year of college?”
You lift your head and look directly at Mr Lee before replying. “Yes. I came from school. I was writing my dissertation and consulting with my professor.”
Mrs Lee chuckles. “You’re so hardworking. I don’t even remember Donghyuck working this hard during his final years of college.”
The table laughs and Donghyuck says, “Knowing Y/N, she’s probably working ten times harder than necessary. I am not lazy. Y/N is just an overachiever.”
Donghyuck is already staring at you when you bring your gaze over to him. Your eyes are clouded, a stark contrast to the practiced smile that has graced your face. Your mother swoons. “That’s our Y/N. You still know her well.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his face. “I had great memories with you.”
It’s terribly awkward and you are all too aware of the adults listening in on your conversation. “We did. How could I ever forget my childhood companion.” You say and quickly take a sip of your drink, desperate to end the interaction between you two.
Thankfully the next course is being brought in and you channel your focus onto the waiter clearing your dishes. The door slides shut and Mrs Lee speaks up. “It is good that you kids go way back. It does make your future look promising.”
The elders exchange furtive glances, leaving you and Donghyuck in the dark. Luckily, Donghyuck is impatient enough to ask them the million dollar question. “What future?”
Mr Lee places a reassuring hand over Mrs Lee’s. He turns to look at his son for a second, before turning over to you. “The two of you are to be wedded.”
It feels like all of the air has been knocked out of you. You’re almost certain that you heard wrong but the sound of Donghyuck’s chair dragging across the floor confirms that your present situation was real. Donghyuck stands, taking the cloth and throwing it into his seat.
“I wish to be excused.” He’s out the door before you even realise it. Tension hangs over the room upon his departure. You’re baffled by the way Donghyuck had chosen to flee the scene, leaving you alone at a time of crisis. Hurt blooms in your chest but you tamper it down.
You face Mr and Mrs Lee, putting on your practiced smile. “I am honoured that you think so highly of me. Thank you for your generous consideration but clearly this will not work out.”
“It’s already been decided.” Mrs Lee states.
A blank expression takes over your face before you could stop yourself. You hear your mother force out a laugh. “After decades, you still hold onto our promise. Your family is loyal and we are grateful.”
Your father adds on. “Thank you for accepting Y/N as your daughter.”
The elders are back in good spirits, raising their glasses for a toast. Meanwhile, your clouded gaze darts over the empty space in front of you, wondering the outcome of your shared fate.
His rejection is still fresh in your mind. It replays on loop without your consent, distracting you from your priorities. The sting that has long been associated with Donghyuck’s name returns but this time, there’s extra pressure pressing onto your chest. Your pride is bruised by the fact that your chance has been taken away from you again. Donghyuck hadn’t even given you a second thought before storming out of the room.
Were you really that unappealing to him after all these years? You weren’t madly in love with him anymore but the impact is still as painful as it once was.
You didn’t want to tell Yizhou or any of your cousins so you called up your last option.
“Y/N! What’s up?” Sungchan greets you.
The only positive outcome from that particular memory was your friendship with Sungchan. He quickly got over his initial crush on you and the two of you forged a strong friendship. Your mother had attempted to make you two a couple but you firmly stopped her each time.
You sit up from your bed. “Hey, are you busy?”
“Not really. I’m running right now.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re crazy.” Sungchan laughs and you continue, “I need to talk. Can you find somewhere to sit?”
After a brief pause, Sungchan returns to the call. “Okay, I’m ready.”
You take a deep breath. There’s no easy way to break the news. “I’m getting married to Lee Donghyuck.” A beat of silence passes through and you begin to worry about Sungchan’s wellbeing. “Hello?”
“No, I’m still here. Sorry I just– What?” Sungchan stumbles over his words. Normally you would laugh and tease him but the situation is too grave for you to crack a smile.
“Yeah. I got ambushed yesterday by both my parents and his parents. He was there too.”
Sungchan quietly asked, “And he accepted you?”
The sting of rejection returns but you keep your voice levelled. “No. He stormed out of the meeting. I haven’t heard from him since.”
Sungchan makes a noise of frustration and cusses. “What a fucking asshole. I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I need to tell somebody before all hell breaks loose.” You brush your hair through your hands, already imagining the widespread effect of your marriage announcement. Yizhou would fly back to Seoul in a matter of hours.
“Okay. Just keep me updated, yeah?”
You nodded. “Of course. Thanks Sungchan.”
The call ends and you drop your phone onto your bed, watching it bounce around. Despite your tarnished history with Donghyuck, getting married to him is the best outcome for your family’s wellbeing. You’re capable of compartmentalising your feelings but you can’t say the same for Donghyuck.
Worry etched onto your face. You throw yourself into your fluffy pillows, smothering your face in it while letting out a frustrated scream. Whatever it is that Donghyuck throws your way, you must overcome it.
You did not know whether to be worried or amused. You had walked into your apartment lobby, surprised by the sight of Donghyuck in the lounge area. He looks up from his iPad when he hears the doorman greeting you.
“Finally,” Donghyuck mutters as he gathers his belongings. From the looks of it, he had set up a makeshift office in the lobby. You come to a stop in front of him, the front of your shoes narrowly touching his.
“What are you doing?”
“I came here to find you. We need to talk.”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who stormed out before we got the chance to talk.”
The security guard behind the counter looks on curiously, wondering if he should intervene. Donghyuck closes his eyes to compose himself. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you.” You said and then turned your back on him, strutting towards the lift.
You can hear Donghyuck scrambling and you smile to yourself. “Wait!”
The security guard reaches you first, putting distance between you and Donghyuck. “Ms Y/L/N, is this man harassing you?”
“Ha– Harass?” Donghyuck sputtered out as if he couldn't even fathom the idea of him causing trouble. “No, I am not a harasser!”
The security guard throws a cold look at his direction and Donghyuck shrinks slightly. The lift arrives and you make your decision.
“Come with me Donghyuck. This is your only chance.” You announce. The security guard seemed reluctant to let Donghyuck near you but you gently assure him, thanking him for his service. The ride up is silent much to your surprise. You walk ahead of Donghyuck and he trails behind you, like a dog with his tail tucked behind his legs.
It feels oddly natural to have Donghyuck follow you into your apartment. He lined his shoes beside your shoe rack in a neat manner and you passed him a clean pair of house slippers to put on. As you make your way into your apartment, Donghyuck marvels quietly at the decorations on display. Upon entering your living room, you hear the unmistakable sound of the camera going off and you stop to turn around. He looks guilty but he clutches his phone tightly.
“What did you do?” You try to intimidate him.
“Just getting some inspiration.” He lies.
You take a step closer to Donghyuck, an attempt at asserting dominance. “This is your first and last time here. Now, spit out whatever it is that brought you here in the first place.”
Donghyuck pockets his phone. “Here’s the deal. I can’t marry someone who hates me.”
“I am lukewarm about you, at most.” You deadpanned.
He gives you an unimpressed look. “There’s no way you don’t hate me. Are you sure you haven’t submitted my name to an Etsy witch?”
“My life stopped revolving around you for a long time now. You’re good.” The tips of Donghyuck’s ears redden at the implication of your words but you maintain your nonchalant stance. “This marriage would be good for my family and if you really detest it then take it up with your parents, not me.”
Donghyuck frowns. “Did you plant the idea in my parents head?” His tone is accusatory which causes you to snort mockingly.
“I haven’t spoken to your parents in ages. Find someone else to blame your misery on.”
It’s written on his face, the way Donghyuck doesn’t seem satisfied with his findings. He sighs heavily and his shoulders sink into his figure. A tired man remains standing in his place and you almost feel sympathetic for him. Almost, if not for the fact that he has been trying to pin the blame for your shared situation entirely on you.
You gently comb your hair back with your hands as you speak up, “I am not going to beg for you to marry me but just know that I will not fight against anything. Not marrying you is a bigger loss to me. I hope you know where I stand.”
Donghyuck meets your gaze, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Is it really that easy?” He asks. His question surprises you but you try your best to conceal your shock.
“Yes.” The air in the room shifts and it was at that moment you knew that you could only keep up with the act of lying to yourself for a little longer. Impending doom lingers in the air but you ignore it and usher Donghyuck out of your life, for now.
The days leading up to your engagement ceremony was emotionally bearable but the day itself was bad enough to dampen your spirits. Your engagement was a quiet affair, as if your relationship was meant to be kept under wraps from the public eye. Whether it was up to Donghyuck or his parents, you don’t know but it didn’t matter because your own feelings were never considered in the first place.
It’s an odd experience to finally get engaged to Donghyuck. His best friends keep a polite distance from you, looking at you as if you were some stranger barging into their lives and not Donghyuck’s childhood best friend. Your own family were scattered in the hall based on a seating chart created by your future mother in-law. At least from your seat, you could easily see Yizhou and Sungchan three tables away from yours. You stuck out your tongue playfully to silently express your gratitude.
Your father had prepared a speech, bringing you to tears and the crowd cooed at you, warmed by your reaction. Much to your surprise, Donghyuck gets up from the seat beside yours and takes the microphone from your father. The room quietens and the attention shifts onto your fiancé, yours included.
“Thank you everyone for coming tonight. Thank you to my father and future father in-law for the speeches,” he pauses with a light laugh. His gaze sweeps around the room as he resumes his speech, “I am glad to share this momentous occasion with all of our loved ones. As much as I want to keep it brief for everyone, I also want to make it memorable for Y/N. I don’t know where our future will take us but I am willing to build a forever with you.”
Your face burns as the whole room looks at you again. You stare ahead at Donghyuck, a strong mix of emotions riding in your chest nearly breaking your composure. Knowing that everyone was waiting for your reaction, you settled on blowing Donghyuck a kiss. The room bursts into cheers when Donghyuck catches it.
The dinner carries on smoothly but there is an unspoken tension stringing between the supposedly happy couple. Your moves were controlled and you kept your physical touches to a minimum. It took every ounce of effort to not tug harshly on Donghyuck’s arm when you slid your hand into his. Your fingers were loosely wrapped around his arm, barely clinging onto the fabric of his suit. The facade you had on cracked as soon as you stepped into his car.
The engine revs to life and your seat belt clicks into place. “Why’d you do that?” You accuse him.
Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What?”
You match his annoyance. “You heard me.”
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “My parents told me to make a speech.”
“And you dedicated it to me?”
“Why are you mad at me? I thought this was what you wanted? I thought you wanted to marry me?”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “I do but why are you starting our marriage with empty promises! Building a forever with me? If you wanted to lie and perform you should have just gone all the way and said ‘I love you’ to seal the deal.” You rolled your eyes.
He scoffs in retaliation. “Seriously? And what about you and your fake kiss?” It was a pointless bicker but Donghyuck’s anger still rose, causing him to heavily breathe out of his nose. His hand on the wheel tenses.
“Everyone was expecting something from me because of you.” You punctuate the end of the sentence, every word hitting him heavily.
A pause fills the space between you two, every ticking moment ringing loudly in your ear. Donghyuck says, “I don’t know what you want from me.”
The engagement band on Donghyuck’s finger glimmers as the streetlights pass through the car windows. The overwhelming feelings from before return and your stomach clenches. Your voice weakens. “I want you to be real in our marriage.”
The car falls silent again and the only sound comes from the traffic outside. You don’t know if Donghyuck had heard you and you’re too prideful to repeat yourself so you remain silent, waiting for him. The car slows to a stop in front of a red light and Donghyuck’s breathing evens out.
“Tell me nicely next time instead of starting a fight, will you?” Your heart jolts at his unexpected reaction. “We could start by setting some boundaries. I was serious about my speech, Y/N. Let’s not make this any more difficult.”
His kept his voice was low and firm. The soft thrum of the engine keeps you calm as you process Donghyuck’s words. It sounds like he’s compromising with you based on the circumstances of your situation. They seem sincere enough for you to believe even though it’s unexpected of him. When Donghyuck drives into your apartment, you gather up your senses to apologise.
“I am sorry,” you loudly confess. Your eyes are cast downwards. The engagement band on your own finger is too hard to ignore at a time like this. “If you have time, you can come up and we can discuss such boundaries.” Your voice trails off at the end.
“I can’t.” Your gaze snaps towards his face, a small frown on display. “Not today but maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.” You nod but remain seated in place. Now that it was time to leave, you find yourself wanting to stay with him longer. All fight has left you and the newfound peace is inviting as ever. You don’t know if you’ll be able to maintain it with him.
“Y/N,” Donghyuck says before he’s leaning in across the console, his lips lightly brushing against your cheek. You go completely still. “Text me when you’re in your apartment.”
You blindly reach for the door, seatbelt still strapped in and you can see Donghyuck giggling at you from your peripheral view. You glare at him and unbuckle yourself, tearing the passenger door opening and jumping out of the car. Donghyuck has the cheek to unwind the window, revealing a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow I think,” you announce as you spin on your heel and the echoes of Donghyuck’s laughter ring from behind you.
When you’re kicking your shoes off, you unzip your bag to take your phone out. You click on your chat with Donghyuck and send a simple thumbs up emoji. The message receipt changes immediately but you don’t get a response. Donghyuck clearly is still a menace who enjoys teasing you. You lock your phone and go about your night, ignoring the way your heart seems to race at the thought of your fiancé.
You hadn’t planned far enough.
While you knew you were getting married to Donghyuck, you still hadn’t made up your mind on whether you should fall in love with him again or protect your own heart. There’s a constant war of push and pull within you and you are not ready to let your pride down. Whenever you find yourself feeling the tiny bit giddy about Donghyuck, you immediately reel yourself in and remind yourself that your marriage will be built on camaraderie, not romance. Boundaries, rules, protocols. These were not norms of a couple romantically involved.
A soft knock on your workspace door interrupts your flow of thoughts and you look up to find Donghyuck sticking his head through the door. You slightly close your laptop to give him your attention.
“Wanna eat?” Donghyuck simply asks, holding a lunchbox above his head.
You quickly tidy up your work desk and Donghyuck makes himself comfortable, singing under his breath as he unpacks the contents of his lunchbox. You catch the melody of his favourite song. It sounds sweeter when he’s singing it.
The table is filled with comforting side dishes and your mouth waters at the sight of it. He saves the final box, pushing it towards the centre and cheekily glances over at you. “Hope you’re hungry because this is going to blow your mind.”
What Donghyuck doesn’t know is that you have been eating less than usual in the past week. You could barely count a banana and multiple cups of coffee as a meal but it was enough to keep you powered through your reports. Your stomach grumbles loudly, the savoury scent of chilli oil and chicken broth infiltrating your senses. Donghyuck had made steamed dumplings.
“Tada! The viral lasagne dumplings. All for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. I ate the first batch at home. It was too good to pass on.”
You quietly raised your brows as you picked up a clean set of chopsticks. He’s watching you intently, hands tucked under his chin and his elbows are resting on the table. You ignore him and focus on the food.
“Is it good?” He asks. You’re frowning as you chew. Looks like you found another unfair quality Donghyuck upholds, his ability to cook.
Your frown deepens. “This is amazing.”
Donghyuck laughs. His glasses slip from the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back. “You look so angry but you’re actually happy with my cooking.”
“This is my happy face,” you tell him.
“Right,” he shakes his head fondly and pushes the side dishes closer to you. “Eat up.”
You had thought your meal would be filled with endless chatter from Donghyuck’s end but a phone call suddenly takes over his attention. He stands at the edge of the table, phone in hand as his body leans against the table for support. You sit through your meal taking peeks at him and scrolling on your phone, catching familiar words but not fully grasping the situation. Your name is mentioned a few times followed by some hush remarks.
“Can’t you and Jeno lead the meeting? What do you even need me there for?” A tight expression draws upon your fiancé’s face. His eyes meet yours and you see a flash of anger in it. You quickly cast your eyes downwards and feign ignorance. “I’ll see you in twenty.”
The room is expectantly silent and you break it by sending him away. “Go. Whatever it is, it needs your attention.”
You’re not looking at him. You keep yourself busy by cleaning up the table. Donghyuck exhales. “I’ll see you around.”
Your will is stronger than expected. As he takes his leave, you make sure not to look at him. Donghyuck’s grip on the door falters and you don’t even notice. The door falls shut and tension in your body releases. You could hardly comprehend what had transpired between the two of you but you knew better than to let Donghyuck in. It’s clear that you will not be a priority to him and you will treat him the same.
As soon as the investors left the table, Donghyuck slumped into the seat. Chenle glared at him. All the niceness at the table had dissipated along with their investors.
“We almost didn’t close the deal because you’re distracted.” Chenle coldly remarked.
Donghyuck cocks his head. “You got what you wanted. Why complain?”
Jeno shakes his head. “We know you have a lot of things going on at home but Donghyuck, we need your one hundred percent commitment. Not unless you want this endeavour of ours to fall apart.”
Donghyuck takes a swig of his drink. The burn of the alcohol smoothly slides down his throat. Chenle challenges, “Are you done playing house?”
“Chenle,” Jeno says warningly.
“You’re letting Y/N cloud your priorities. Leaving work early just to see her? Hanging around a college campus to see her? Trying to ditch an investor’s meeting? Dude, it’s an arranged marriage. Why are you trying so hard? Stop wasting time–”
“I’ll have to stop you right there. You guys don’t know the full story because I choose to keep some information to myself.” Donghyuck straightens up and leans forward, maintaining a steady gaze on his friend’s faces. “Talk shit about me all you want but not my marriage and definitely not Y/N. I don’t care how unhappy you are with me. That is not an excuse.”
Chenle dryly scoffs. “Sure. Fine. I’m sorry for that.”
“Thank you.” Donghyuck nods. His shoulders drop and he offers them a small smile. “I’ll try to be more proactive. Just bear with me a little. Y/N’s important to me.”
Chenle and Jeno share a silent look, Jeno wordlessly urging the younger to tone down his anger towards Donghyuck with a raise of a brow. Chenle sighs and waves a hand in the air. “You get one more chance to talk about Y/N for tonight and that will be the last!”
Donghyuck’s face splits into a wide smile as he leans forward. “Have I told you guys about the time when we went on a holiday to her family’s ski lodge?”
The past few years for Donghyuck had been a blur. While you went on to make a future for yourself, Donghyuck had found himself stuck in the past.
By the time he tried to put a name on his feelings, time had passed and the distance between you two had grown wider than before. He did not know how to cross it, if you would even let him shorten the gap just for him to offer up an apology. Ignoring your existence was easier than reaching out to you.
When his parents had hinted that they were arranging a marriage for him, he wasn’t all too happy but he conceded with their decision. His life was never his to begin with even though his heart longed for yours.
Maybe Donghyuck was naive or maybe he didn’t want to accept the truth when you walked into the room. He let his polished persona take over to distract himself from his impending panic. You hated him. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye and Donghyuck can’t blame you. After all, he had inflicted hurt upon you. Donghyuck can tell from the hardened gaze you throw his way and your closed off body language that you wanted nothing more than to run off from the dinner meeting.
The pretense of the meeting had unveiled itself. Ultimately, his father uttered the words that would trigger his fight or flight instincts. Donghyuck stupidly fled the scene. Tears clouded his visions as he fumbled with the car handle. The girl who had once loved him, the same girl who got hurt by his avoidant nature is now betrothed to him. What a horrible twist of fate.
Donghyuck took a strangled breath in and collected his emotions, at least enough for him to drive to Mark. Aside from Yizhou and Sungchan, Mark was the only other person who knew of the tragic end of your friendship. His hands are shaking but he manages to connect Mark to his car speakers.
“Mark hyung,” Donghyuck rasps out.
“Yo, shit?” Mark immediately replies. “What’s wrong?”
Donghyuck restlessly drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Are you home?”
“Yeah.” He presses harder on the pedal. “I’m coming over.”
Mark wordlessly led a tear-stricken Donghyuck into his living room. He came back with a mug of warm water but it remained untouched by Donghyuck. Mark sits upright in his own chair, observing his best friend. “What happened?”
Donghyuck opens his mouth to try and speak but the words don’t come out. His tongue darts out as he sighs heavily. “I’m getting married to Y/N.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t deserve her. I never did. I never will. I am total fuck up.”
Mark frowns. “Wait. This whole time your parents were set on getting you two together?”
“Turns out the future partner they were looking for me had always been there. Y/N.” Donghyuck laughs dryly at the circumstances of his life. He threads his fingers through his hair, channeling his frustration into messing his hair. “I’m so afraid that she’ll resent me even more. I realised my feelings for her too late. I did not even try to understand my feelings. I did not want to fall into the expectations surrounding us. I thought I could choose my own destiny but our fates were always going to be entangled. I was too foolish to grasp that.”
Mark stays silent as he allows Donghyuck’s words to sink in. He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Did Y/N say outright that she hates you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you adamant that Y/N hates you?”
“I see it in her eyes.” Donghyuck firmly says. “We have spent so much time apart in our formative years. We are basically different people now. I feel so inadequate to be her lifelong companion. People don’t get it. She doesn’t get it.”
Mark, ever so earnest, grows frustrated with his best friend’s stubbornness. “To be frank, I don’t get why you’re having an inferiority complex over Y/N. You are doing great things at your father’s company and your own independent business as well. The name you are building for yourself is remarkable. What more could impress Y/N?”
Donghyuck throws a hand in the air. “Maybe an emotionally intelligent guy who doesn’t suppress his emotions.”
“Then be that man!” Mark urges him. He stands up and walks over to Donghyuck. “Go and initiate things with her. Make things better between you two. Let it start with you.”
“You really think I can do that?” Donghyuck asks him in a small voice.
Mark grins encouragingly. “Sitting around here and moping about the girl you love is not enough. Go chase after her.”
Donghyuck feels his heart thudding in his chest, a surge of hope coasting through his body. “Well, maybe not today. I am kinda burnt out from this rollercoaster of emotions.” He says lightheartedly.
And so he tries because in spite of your strong demeanour, he can feel the gap between you two bridging slowly. You entertained his small talks with wordless gestures such as a quirk of your lip or twitch of an eye. You sent him an emoji every time you made it home after a meeting with him and his parents. And ever since the engagement ceremony, your dynamics have settled into a comfortable pace, similar to a partnership between two business partners.
Your boundaries had been laid out for him and Donghyuck feels hopeful about your marriage. He hadn’t realised how much his friends disapprove of your presence in his life until that dinner experience. If only everyone knew how Donghyuck treats you with utmost care because he wants to make it up to you for hurting you all those years ago. It wasn’t just him that was holding onto that memory. Donghyuck can still recall the curt smile Sungchan gave him at the engagement ceremony, obviously still holding a grudge against him.
The indifference you show him is subtle to others but Donghyuck can read you even after all those years apart. You barely show any reaction to his quips and your facial features are controlled to reveal just a fraction of emotions. He silently cusses Jeno and Chenle out for causing the setback in his progress.
You two are having dinner at the Lee’s estate. You’re seated on his left hand side, ever so poised and mannered. You only muttered one word replies to Donghyuck since he picked you up from your apartment. His mother leads the conversation and Donghyuck is grateful for that.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but your friends are Jung Sungchan and Ning Yizhou?” She suddenly asks.
You nod your head as confirmation. “Yes, why? Is there anything wrong?”
Mrs Lee laughs cordially. “Nothing wrong. It’s just that for a while, before we approached your parents about your marriage, we were all under the impression that you were being courted by Jung Sungchan.”
Donghyuck tenses. He remembers his mother prodding him about you and Sungchan and he mindlessly waved her off. It was pretty known that you two were close friends and it was natural for speculation to arise. He himself had believed in them at one point.
You nearly choke on your bite of food. Donghyuck panics and passes you your glass of water which you graciously accepted. “No. Not once have we ever been involved. I can assure you,” you say after collecting yourself.
“It’s not me you have to assure,” Mrs Lee finishes off with a hearty laugh.
Donghyuck doesn’t miss the crack in your composure, the side glance casted in his direction as he stares at the interesting patterns on the ceramic plate.
His parents retire to their room and only the two of you remain. You finish the last of your dessert, gracefully dabbing your napkin on your lips. Donghyuck had been unexpectedly silent. He barely looked at you for the rest of the night. The elephant needed to be addressed. “You were worried about me and Sungchan?” You causally questioned him.
Donghyuck shyly raises his gaze to meet yours. “No.”
“No?” You echoed.
His eyes draw away from yours as he replies, “I mean, my mother was asking about you. I just told her what I thought– what everyone thought.”
“Which was?”
He looks at you almost pleadingly but you remain firm, wanting to hear him admit it out loud. Donghyuck concedes in a small voice. “You and Sungchan? Everyone thought you were involved.”
“And you were worried.” You reminded him, your tone was steadier compared to his.
“I– I was not. Intrigued? Maybe.” He stuttered out.
Clearly you were unconvinced. You smirk at his flustered expression, leaning comfortably into your seat. It was a sight to see Donghyuck embarrassed but the humour only lasted briefly. “Just so you know, nothing happened between me and him. Nothing will happen in the future. We’re bound to each other now.” You tell him, hoping you sound as sincere as possible.
He doesn’t give you a verbal answer but you can tell from his body language that he’s partly relieved. Donghyuck still looks at you with a heavy gaze, as if he’s thinking deeply about you while you’re seated inches away from him. You raise a brow at him, the most expression you’ve given him lately. He’s so transparent. You can see it on his face when he loses his internal battle.
“Y/N, do you remember those questions you asked me on my birthday?” Donghyuck quietly asks. Maybe it was meant to be a rhetorical question but the shift in mood made it hard for you to believe so. You nod stiffly. “I found the answer for it. I won’t tell you now but one day, I will.” His shoulders are squared like a soldier who’s ready to walk into battle. Suddenly, the gravity of his words hit you.
A promise? Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words. If you were understanding his vague statement, it would mean that Donghyuck had figured out what you meant to him. It sounds terrifying and you are slightly grateful that Donghyuck was willing to delay the conversation a little longer.
Even tossing and turning in bed didn’t help soothe your anxiety. You itched to ask him outright and revisit the conversation from that night but it is still too emotionally taxing for you to revisit it.
Instead, you let yourself focus on wedding planning. You frequently met up with your mother, future mother in law, fiancé and the wedding planner. It took up a good chunk of your attention which managed to keep your sanity at bay. You give a lot of input considering the fact that it’s the only time you’ll ever be wedded in this lifetime. You even managed to negotiate with the elders to find a bridal dressmaker of your choice. Slowly, your dream wedding came to life. You had the groom you had always wanted even though the circumstances were not ideal.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yizhou eyed you warily.
The two of you were seated on the patio of a café, lined along the alleyway of hipster buildings. Yizhou was back in Seoul for business and you had barely managed to squeeze in a meet up with her. You caught her up with your stale love life and now she’s staring at you with apprehension.
You nod sagely. “I’ve accepted the truth long ago.”
“Do you still love him?”
You hum thoughtfully, carefully picking your words. “It’s hard to say honestly. He meant the world to me. I think Donghyuck will always leave a deep mark on me. As long as nothing romantic happens between us, I’ll be fine. My feelings for him will remain dormant.” His promise crosses your mind as you speak but you decided to ignore it, resolute in your own words and beliefs.
“But you’ll be married forever. How can you be so sure nothing changes between the two of you?” Yizhou had a valid point and you didn’t have a proper answer for it.
You offer her a shrug and a half-hearted grin. “I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge if I ever get there.”
Wedding planning has been going well. You were set to marry a week after your last submissions, a terribly packed period for you but one that worked in favour for both parties. It was right before the fourth quarter of the year which gave you a chance to be introduced as a wedded couple during year end celebrations.
You had been cooped up with your assignments all week long but your appearance was needed for the venue viewing. The grease in your hair had built up over time and you dragged yourself to the shower, indulging yourself to a relaxing hair wash. The most put together outfit you have worn this whole week was a stained sweatpants and a tattered concert tee.
You had just stepped out of the shower when your phone buzzed with a message from Donghyuck, notifying you of his arrival. You grimaced and you plucked your phone from your nightstand. You immediately called him.
“Y/N?”
“Hey, I need you to park. I just got out of the shower.”
Donghyuck feels his mouth go dry. “Hmm?”
“Just park by the side and tell the guards that you’re coming up.” You tell him as you stand in front of your closet, eyeing your options with your phone lazily positioned close to your face. Donghyuck has yet to disconnect the call and you can hear him making his way to you, a soothing constant sound you needed to fill your room.
The tale-tell sound of the lift lobby resounds through your phone. “I’m entering the lift,” Donghyuck mutters.
You grab a long sleeved dress and hurriedly pull it over your body. You still have to dry your hair and do your makeup. You were plugging in your hair dryer when Donghyuck spoke up again. “Hey, I’m outside your door.”
You rattled off your code without a second thought. From your room, you could hear the door being unlocked and his successful attempt to let himself in. “Y/N?” Donghyuck called out.
“In here!” You replied, knowing that you had left your door ajar.
Your heart thrums with anticipation but you keep yourself focused on your task at hand. A soft knock on the door followed by Donghyuck sticking his head through the door. It’s quite the sight and you find yourself staring at him through the mirror. You turn the hair dryer off.
“Come in,” you invited him.
He freezes for a second and you nodded encouragingly, coaxing him into entering your room. “I need ten more minutes.”
Donghyuck glances at his wrist. You guys would inevitably be late but Donghyuck doesn’t mind the wrath his mother might incur on him. “That’s okay,” he says as he stands in a random spot by the door. You can see the clear restraint on his face which makes you laugh.
You turn in your seat, looking him in the eyes. “You don’t have to stand there. You can sit on my bed or look around my room.”
Donghyuck pointed towards the bed for confirmation and you nodded. While you are occupied with your hair and makeup, Donghyuck sits on the edge of your bed, simply taking in the details of your room. Your bookshelf is filled with books of all kinds of genres. He squints at a dark red box by the shelf above your bed frame. It sits underneath a stack of DVDs, titles of albums he doesn’t recognise. There’s several other memorabilia like a figurine or a photo frame on the shelf. It’s soothing to be in your space and having your presence nearby. He can imagine it, a near future where he’s all moved in, sharing mundane moments with you. He wants it all.
“Okay, I’m done.” You announce, snapping Donghyuck out of his reverie. You finally get a proper look at Donghyuck and realise how your outfit complements his. There’s something dizzying about the way Donghyuck stared at you. You subconsciously fix your hair.
“Wow,” he mumbled.
Not wanting to be swayed by Donghyuck’s reaction, you choose to glare at him. “We’re late! Let’s go.”
He giggles, knowing that your glare has no real heat to it. You break out into a matching smile having given up on being serious. “Come on.”
Donghyuck was in a good mood. His phone was ringing with incoming messages from his mother and a call quickly came along. He gestured at you to pick it up, knowing that if his mother heard your voice, she would be kinder.
“Lee Donghyuck, where are you? Did you know we’re running twenty minutes behind schedule?”
You cringed but worked up the courage to answer. “Hey Mrs Lee, it’s Y/N. Donghyuck is driving.”
“Oh! Y/N,” Mrs Lee perks up. She laughs offhandedly, “My Donghyuck is a troublemaker. Are you okay?”
“Actually, I was the one who was running late. I am sorry but we’re nearby. I promise! I think we’re five minutes away?”
You glance over at Donghyuck for help and he chuckles, leaning over to speak into the microphone. “We’re ten minutes away. Just calm down and sip some wine.”
“Yah, Donghyuck.” Mrs Lee starts and your eyes widens, panic creeping in.
Donghyuck mouths, “Hang up. Now.”
You do as you are told and the car lapses into silence for a brief moment. You were the first one to burst into laughter, crouching forward in your seat, eyes tightly closed as all you can think of was Donghyuck feeding into your future mother-in-law's anger.
“What?” Donghyuck asks, a lilt to his voice. He has not seen you unpoised in so long. Your bright laughter and relaxed posture is rare to him.
“Nothing,” you finally say as you straighten yourself out. You shake your head almost fondly. “Nothing really.”
Your smile remains on your face which betrays your attempt at being composed. Donghyuck sneaks a glance over to admire the sincerity of the moment and he decides to stay silent, afraid of disturbing your newfound glee.
By the time you two arrived at the venue, you had already calmed down enough. There’s the remnants of your smile on your face and only Donghyuck knows the details behind it. The thought sends a thrill up his spine.
Maybe your joy was infectious enough for his mother’s bad mood to disappear or perhaps Mrs Lee was relieved to see her future daughter-in-law finally feeling settled in the arrangement. Whatever annoyance Mrs Lee harboured disappeared when she happened to witness the way you and Donghyuck looked at each other. The mirth in both of your faces was similar to your childhood memories. She pulls the wedding planner to her side, happy to give the engaged couple some privacy.
The phone call comes while Donghyuck wraps up his report. Your name flashes on the screen and he jumps for his phone, waits for a second and then answers the call.
“Hyuck,” you drawled into the phone. The background of the call is loud but Donghyuck is more distracted by the old nickname.
“Y/N?”
“Everyone’s teasing me. They want you here.”
“They? What about you? Do you want me to come?” He asks even though he’s already digging through his pocket for his car keys.
You gasped dramatically. “You can’t ask that!”
An overlap of voices cut through the call and Donghyuck can vaguely hear you scolding your friends. You cuss them out before returning to the call.
“Sorry, my faculty mates are so nosy.” Your voice is clearer now, like you had stepped out to talk to him.
Donghyuck stands by his car. “Should I come over?”
“Yeah,” you replied quietly. “I want you here.”
“Share your location with me?”
He finds you seated alone in the outdoor seating of the bar. “Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out as he gets out of his car. You spot him, waving enthusiastically at him from the other side of the road.
He jogs over to you. “Why are you out here alone?”
You tilt your head to the side, not quite understanding the worried undertone of his voice. “I was waiting for you.”
Donghyuck steels himself to remain firm with you. A pout had formed on your lips. You’re irresistibly cute when you’re drunk, even now as an adult. He softens his tone, “Thank you for waiting out here but I don’t think it's safe that you’re out here alone. Maybe next time ask a friend to keep you company, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” you mumbled.
You remember your friends teasing you relentlessly about Donghyuck and your eyes widened at the memory. “Wait.” You grab his hands, pulling him and he stumbles into your space. “Everyone thinks you’re my secret partner. They think we’re madly in love with each other. My classmates, they don’t know what we know.”
Donghyuck blinks as he processes your words. He nods slowly. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”
You distractedly play with his hands, pressing your own palms against his. It’s warm to the touch. Your smooth slender fingers splayed over his thick roughened fingers. “Last time we held hands like this, we were still kids,” you offhandedly remarked.
“Y/N…” Donghyuck’s pained tone urges you to look up. “What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet but his plea is loud enough for you to hear.
The corners of your mouth twists with contemplation. Deep within you, the last walls that contained your affection for your fiancé, have cracked open. There’s too many thoughts running through your head and you’re not sober enough to confront them. It hurts to pretend you don’t notice the expectant look on Donghyuck’s face but it’s better than acting rashly.
“Can we just go inside? I’ll introduce you to my friends.” Donghyuck concedes with a nod of his head. You laced your fingers with his in one hand and slowly let go of the other. Throwing on your best smile, you look over your shoulder and try to lift the mood. “You’re going to love this place. There’s a pool table I want to show you.”
Embarrassing doesn’t even cut it.
Maybe the Lee’s estate is a homeground of your embarrassing moments like this one, where you wake up in the guest room of their estate as a disheveled mess. You wake up sprawled across a pillow with the Lee’s family insignia on it, the cursive font in the significant family colour. The longer you squeeze your eyes shut, the more memories you manage to recover. Nursing a hangover at your future in-law’s house is a terrifying situation you have landed yourself in.
You look around the room and thankfully, your phone is on the nightstand, plugged into a power outlet. Donghyuck’s name sits at the top of the list of notifications. You quickly read it, thankful that Donghyuck texted you to call him when you had woken up.
You have a small window of time to freshen up before facing him. Standing in front of the sink, you study yourself. You look put together for a person who had a chaotic night out. Your makeup has been removed, your hair a little tangled from sleep and you’re wearing a comfortable pyjamas set. The Lee’s family insignia is subtly embroidered into the collar of the shirt.
You’re in the midst of brushing your teeth when a soft knock comes from outside. Just like before, Donghyuck cautiously peers into the room before letting himself in. You step out of the joint bathroom to lean against the frame of the door, uncaring that your toothbrush was still hanging from your mouth.
“You’re up earlier than expected,” Donghyuck muses. You give him a small glare and hold your hand up before disappearing into the bathroom to rinse your mouth.
He’s seated on the bed by the time you get back. “Are your parents home?”
Donghyuck raised a brow. “They left this morning for church and whatnot but they know you’re here. Nothing ever stays a secret in this house.”
Your eye twitches. What a horrific impression you have made of yourself. “Why didn’t you send me home? You know my code!” You practically yell.
He raises his voice back. “I tried to! Wha– Wait. You don’t remember?”
You’re stumped. Hadn’t you recalled everything that happened last night? “Remember what?” You carefully asked.
Donghyuck’s hesitant response could not prepare you for the truth. “You wanted to follow me home. That’s why we’re here.”
“Oh, fuck.”
A deep frown settles on your face. You can only remember getting into Donghyuck’s car, the rest of the ride was a blur. You can’t think of a reason why Donghyuck would lie to you which meant that you were the clingy person you vowed not to be.
If he were being honest, Donghyuck was scared of you. Would you be mad at him and push him away? After last night, Donghyuck only wants to hold you closer to him. He’s seen before how much hurt he can unravel. He can only hope that things turn out differently.
You lightly tug at your hair, stressed out by the turn of events. “I’m going home.”
“Let me drive you home.” Donghyuck stood up. You didn’t try to fight him. Instead, you walk around the room trying to find your clothes from the night before but it’s nowhere to be found.
“Where’s my clothes?” Donghyuck pads across the room and opens the wardrobe, revealing your outfit from last night. Your top and jeans were hanging separately in a tidy manner. You stood a few inches behind Donghyuck. “You did this?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry though, my helper did the difficult job of undressing you.” Donghyuck grabs your clothes and offers it to you.
You scoffed to hide your embarrassment. “Difficult?”
Donghyuck is uncharacteristically silent and when you look at him, you find that he’s red in the face. He’s definitely recalling something that you did last night. Probably something embarrassing and life ending information that makes you wonder if you even wanted to gain back those memories. You narrowed your eyes and let out a harrumph, making a show out of walking past him and heading off to the bathroom.
The staff greet you and Donghyuck each time you pass them, completely blowing any sense of discreetness you tried to uphold. At the very least, his parents were still out which helped you save your last strand of dignity.
The car ride is mostly silent save for the occasional sound from Donghyuck when he sings under his breath. Your favourite song comes on shuffle and Donghyuck turns the volume up. You look at him, having not expected him to remember such a specific detail about you. You had thought you were the only one who held on tightly to your shared past but Donghyuck’s natural reaction says otherwise.
You’re still deep in thought when Donghyuck reaches the entrance of your apartment. He waits quietly, knowing better than to interrupt you. He’s staring blankly ahead and wonders about the weight you’ve been carrying alone, if you’re ready to put it down.
“Hey, I’m not sure what I did last night but thanks for putting up with me.”
He turns to you and sees that you’re shyly tucking your hair before your ear, looking down at your lap instead of him. Donghyuck couldn’t help himself from saying, “Do you think you’re a burden to me?”
This causes you to look up, shock written across your face. “What? Where’s this coming from?”
“I don’t put up with you, Y/N.” His voice is soft but firm. “You’re going to be my wife. We both agreed to this. You are a priority in my life.” You nervously chew on your lower lip. Again, you’re not in a proper mindset to be having such a heavy conversation with him. Despite that, you’re still affected by Donghyuck’s confession, leaving your stomach fluttering.
Your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Donghyuck breaks out into a small smile, an underlying melancholy to it. “You don’t have to say anything. I needed you to know that, that’s all.”
It doesn’t seem right to leave wordlessly so you lean across the console, craning your neck to leave a peck on his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper before pulling away. The wistfulness from the two of you was palpable and you weren’t completely relieved from it. The crack in your walls grows wider and you don’t know if you’re ready for them to fall.
In a room full of people, Donghyuck would rather be alone with you.
He’s at a party with his friends but he’s not participating. Donghyuck has chosen to stick to the walls to watch his friends shake hands with potential business partners.
“You look mad.” Jaemin siddles up to him, his usual charming smile on full display.
“You could say that.” Donghyuck nods in acknowledgement.
“You miss her,” he says to Donghyuck as a matter-of-factly. Donghyuck stares at him with suspicion. He has never confided in Jaemin regarding you and he knows Mark would never gossip about him. Jaemin snorts. “Chill. I can tell because you’re miserable and you can’t stop playing with your ring.”
Donghyuck instantly stops fidgeting, his finger resting against the cool metal of his engagement band instead. He was not fully aware of his own actions. How can it be that Jaemin had managed to see through him?
“I think it’s nice.” Jaemin adds offhandedly.
Donghyuck drops his hands to his sides. “What’s nice?”
“That you’ve found someone to cherish. To love.”
The way you pleaded with him while you were drunk plays like a constant loop in his mind. A glimpse of your younger self had shone through that night before your matured self took over, demanding that you be taken back to the Lee’s estate. Even in your drunken state you were able to outsmart him by claiming that it is your marital right to stay there. Donghyuck smiled fondly. “She’s always been there. I just had trouble seeing what was in front of me all along.’
“Can I ask what made you come to a realisation? I think the Donghyuck I knew never really cared about settling down.”
“I didn’t just hurt Y/N. I crushed her.” Donghyuck looked down, collecting his thoughts to put it into perspective. “It was scary to see her devastated because of me and I hadn’t realised that I had inflicted hurt onto her. I care for her so much to the point that I didn’t even understand it until she walked away from me.”
His face crumpled up without meaning to and Jaemin takes a good look at his friend. Anyone can see the remorse eating away at him. Jaemin lays a comforting hand over Donghyuck’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Give yourself a chance to be forgiven.”
And Jaemin was right. All the hesitation could not prolong any more.
The sky is bright and cloudy, the perfect weather to be out enjoying the sunshine with the presence of another but you’re cooped indoors. You should be at home, the deadline for your dissertation inching closer day by day but as of late, your time has been occupied by your wedding. The only consolation is Donghyuck being there with you.
You had your first meeting with the bridal atelier of your choice two months back and now you’re back for the try on. The flutes of champagne remain untouched. Your fingers thrum against your thigh, feeling restless as the tailors prepare the dressing room for you. Donghyuck wordlessly slips his hand over yours, grounding you to the present moment. You peek over at him and he’s already looking at you. There’s an unspoken devotion in his gaze. You wonder when he had started looking at you with stars in his eyes.
“Ms Y/L/N? We’re ready for you.” You jump away from Donghyuck, clearing your throat. You offer him a small smile and he nods.
You’re careful when you try on your wedding gown, still in great disbelief about the fact that your dream dress has come to life. The assistant showered you with praises as she zipped you up. You let out a gasp as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror.
“Absolutely gorgeous. He is a lucky man.” The assistant said from behind you, startling you out of your reverie. “I’ll give you a moment. Let us know if you need anything.”
You touch the fabric of your gown with reverence, thumbing the rich silky fabric elegantly draped across your figure. A smile finds its way onto your face and you set your shoulder back to meet Donghyuck.
Donghyuck looks up from his phone when he hears the curtains open. His jaw goes slack when he sees you stepping into the room. Your hair has been pulled into a messy updo, stray pieces of hair framing the sides of your face. You’re looking at him with hope and Donghyuck can see the rest of your lives playing out before his eyes.
He rises to his feet. “Wow. That doesn't even cut it.”
You fold your hands in front of you. “Hyuck,” the old nickname slips out of your mouth, “stop. Be honest. Is it alright?”
“Alright?” He gawks. “Y/N, you're drop dead gorgeous!” Donghyuck exclaims before collapsing into his seat. Your laughter carries through the room, filling it with light.
“Whatever you say, Hyuck.” You giggle.
“You don’t believe me! Come here.” He beckons as he walks over to you. Donghyuck meets you halfway to stand face to face with you. “I cannot wait until you say the words ‘I do’ and I become yours.”
You’re blushing furiously but you don’t want to run away from the moment. Taking a leap of faith, you reach out for his hands, guiding it to rest on your waist. His hands are splayed firmly against the bodice of the gown, pressing into your body as a constant reminder that you’re not dreaming.
“I don’t know what to say.” Your voice is quiet as you confess to him.
Donghyuck shakes his head gently, leaning downwards to be closer to your face. “Just say ‘I do’ when the time comes.” And in that moment, you felt the final crack in your chest, the once impenetrable walls that had protected you, crumbled upon the promise of a loving future. You simply cannot wait.
You’re staring at your ring, letting yourself get distracted by it. Your mother is talking your ear off about wedding preparations while the rest of the table waits for Donghyuck’s arrival. You have never thought you’d be praying for his presence to offer you respite from your mother’s overwhelming chatter.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” You shoot up in your seat at the sound of his voice. After a long day bent over your laptop, you needed to see a comforting face.
Donghyuck goes over to your parents first. A firm pat to his back from your dad and a tight hug from your mom. He flashes you a glimmering smile when he gets to you and you feel your face redden under his attention. You turn in your seat to greet him and Donghyuck bends to your level, leaving a peck on your cheeks in greeting. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
You know your parents are watching but you still try to keep your voice low enough for Donghyuck’s ears only. “Better now that you’re here.”
His eyes flicker to your mouth and back to your eyes. “Yeah,” Donghyuck thoughtlessly replies.
Across the table, your father coughs and Donghyuck scrambles into the empty seat beside you. You avoid his eyes and keep your head ducked, allowing your father to lead tonight’s dinner.
“I was just talking about the wedding. We’re so close to the date.” Your mother beams.
Donghyuck casts a glance over his shoulder and notices your dampened mood. He takes a small sip of water. “There’s always so much to prepare and on top of it all, Y/N is working hard on her dissertation.”
Your father smiles softly as he speaks, “That’s right. How’s it going honey?”
“I’m almost done. If my upcoming consultation with my professor goes well, I might be able to turn in my paper sooner than expected.”
“That’s great news darling,” Your mother says as you share the good news with them. She continues, “I’ve been worried that school was going to delay everything.”
Your smile dims and your eyes flicker over to Donghyuck, wishing if he could disappear. You hate moments like these with your mother as she dismisses your hard work, giving you backhanded praise as she priorities her pride over your emotions. The closer the wedding gets, the more remarks your mother makes and she’s clearly stopped holding herself back around Donghyuck. Your face grows red in embarrassment and you feel yourself go mum.
Donghyuck shifts in his seat. He gives your mother a stiff smile as he says, “I would wait however long to marry Y/N. We are to be wedded for life. A brief delay means nothing to me if it’s to ensure Y/N’s happy.”
You see the whiplash your parents experience from Donghyuck’s assurance. Your brows are raised but you choose to remain silent, happy that someone else is protecting you for once. Donghyuck’s shoulders are squared and his eyes are full of unapologetic pride. He slides a hand to grab yours from under the table, offering you silent assurance.
“Glad to know that Y/N’s your priority. Let’s make sure to keep her happy.” Your father says in a rather diplomatic manner. He casts your mother a side glance and she nods along, keeping silent. Under the concealment of the table, you squeeze Donghyuck’s hands in appreciation, all while maintaining a casual expression in front of your parents.
Your dissertation was ready to be submitted earlier than scheduled but you didn’t want to tell your parents yet. Instead, you wanted to initiate a night out with your friends.
Or at least you were trying to. Yizhou was out of the country again and Sungchan was dealing with business outside of Seoul. Your clothes had been picked out. Your preferred club already in mind. All you needed was friends to go with. You scrolled through your contacts and realised the only other person you were comfortable calling up was your fiancé.
After contemplating your options, you caved in and called Donghyuck.
“Are you busy tonight?” You asked him, keeping your voice light. After all, it was a random weekday. He is a busy business man with plans stacked in his calendar.
“Not particularly. What’s up?” Not the answer you were hoping for. You had no choice but to bite the bullet and ask him out. “I was wondering if you’d go out with me tonight. I have good news and I want to celebrate.”
“Celebrate? Where?”
“The clubs.” You coughed into the phone. Donghyuck makes a sound of disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut and plead with him, pulling out a desperate move. “Are you in or are you not?”
Donghyuck giggles and you know you have him onboard. Even when you were kids, your pleadings were persuasive enough for Donghyuck to give into you. “Should I meet you and your friends there?” He asks.
“Actually, none of my friends can make it tonight.” Your voice pitches to a loud tone as you try to play it off. “I want to go out though, so I called you.”
“Just a crazy idea that I’m throwing out here,” Donghyuck slowly says, already thinking about dragging his friends out of the comfort of their homes. “What if I invited my friends? You have never met them properly and this seems like a good time to introduce you.”
You think back to all the times you’ve had the opportunity to be in the same room as Donghyuck’s friends. Not once have they ever treated you in a friendly manner outside of the forced pleasantries that were expected of them. You can’t help but grimace. “No offence Hyuck but I think they hate me.”
“What! No!” Donghyuck says unconvincingly. You did not need to know that you had once been a topic of argument within his friend group. He rubs his temple, thinking of a solution. “Okay, Mark will be there and he is a great social lubricant.”
“Uh-huh.”
He senses the distrust in your voice and considers his options. “You trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust me on this. I think it will go well or at least improve the coldness between you guys.”
“And whose fault is that?” You ask half jokingly.
“Mine. Sorry,” he replies in a small voice.
Your wedding was inching closer and meeting his friends would be an unavoidable experience in the long run. “That’s okay. Go ahead and invite them. I’ll give them a chance as long as they’re willing to do the same.”
Donghyuck grins, already cooking up ways to convince his friends for a night out. “I’ll see you soon.”
After pleading with Mark to help him be the voice of reason, Donghyuck manages to get all of his friends to agree to meet up. Renjun even offers to contact his close friend to get a couch reserved in a popular club. He instructs one of the family drivers to fetch you and you’re the last one to arrive. Donghyuck waves you over as he stands in a circle of his own, surrounded by familiar faces. From afar, they look rather intimidating and you have half the mind to turn around and run off but you steel your nerves, forcing yourself to get the meeting over and done with.
“Hi guys.” You offer them a small wave. You’re awkwardly standing alone and fortunately, Donghyuck slides up to you to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. The tension in your body slightly ebbs away. Jaemin gives you two a long stare and smiles wickedly wide. It’s slightly off-putting but you offer him a friendly smile despite your apprehension.
Mark clears his throat as he takes a step towards you. “Great to finally meet you.” Mark sticks a hand out and you firmly accept it.
A rather fashionable fellow who you recognised as Renjun comes up to you guys. He flashes you a charming smile. “Our table’s ready so let’s move inside and we can have a proper chat!”
“Table?”
“Oh, your man here has gone all out for you.” The rest of the group murmured in agreement which led you to look at Donghyuck for help. He merely shrugs, choosing to maintain indifference.
Renjun decides to pull you out of Donghyuck’s hold, guiding you to the very front of the group. “Just enjoy it. You should take his card and go crazy,” he leans in conspiratorially as he loops your arms together.
Behind you, Jeno snorts, making his presence known. You both exchange friendly smiles. “Hope you enjoy your time tonight, Y/N.”
Your group breeze through security with a flash of a smile from Renjun. It makes you wonder how well-known Donghyuck’s friends are. You have heard of the notorious wait list for this particular club which was bad enough to fizzle out your interest in coming down.
You are led to a table beside the dj booth. The expanse of the couch is much larger than expected. It could probably hold double the amount of people present at the moment. You stand by the sidelines. “Uh, are we expecting people?”
Everyone turns to look at Donghyuck who’s sporting a sheepish expression. “It was either this or we would have to stand at the tables. I’m not making you stand for the entire night.”
Your jaw dropped. Chenle hollers from where he’s seated. “Get a room, you love birds.”
With his eyes still trained on you, Donghyuck flips Chenle off. The table breaks out into snickers but you’re still hung up on the fact that Donghyuck had spent an incredible amount of money on you. “Are you mad?” He asks.
“No?” You shake your head. “I just– we could have gone elsewhere? I don’t know, I want to make your money’s worth.”
Donghyuck frowns. “You are worth every dollar I have.”
You blinked in surprise, not having expected Donghyuck to take the conversation to a personal level. You stepped forward to slip your arms around his, gently tugging him closer to you. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow,” you say before planting a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being thoughtful.”
Donghyuck can feel his cheeks reddening and he’s glad that the lighting in the club makes it hard to see. You disappear from his side, welcoming the chaos with open arms as you approach the table. Donghyuck watches you as he silently nurses a drink in one hand. His eyes danced around your figure, the confidence radiating off you was magnetic and it felt like a treat to be in your presence. Donghyuck focused on the little things like the way your nose scrunches when the alcohol hits too strongly for your liking or the way your body folds, laughing gleefully at whatever stories his friends tell you. He barely notices the music or his friends sharing wordless looks throughout the night.
Jisung scoots down the couch to be next to Donghyuck, lightly knocking their knees together for his attention. Jisung offers his hyung a small smile before leaning in, “You should ask her to dance.”
“What?”
“You look like Jay waiting on Daisy,” Jisung giggles drunkenly, head thrown back as he leans back into the leather couch. “Just go up to her.” He says encouragingly.
At that moment, you look over your shoulders and lock eyes with Donghyuck, flashing him a shy smile. His heart stutters in his chest as he rushes to his feet to move towards you like a lovesick fool in a trance. Donghyuck downs his drink, setting it down as he passes the table before finally reaching you. You never once looked away from him. Mark’s chatter comes to a halt when he senses Donghyuck’s presence and he makes a silent escape, sensing the shift in the air.
To Donghyuck’s surprise, you beat him at making the first move. “Let’s dance!” You cheered.
You had slipped your hand into his and led him onto the dance floor. Donghyuck naturally stands close to your back but the crowd pushes him into you. While you seemed unaffected by the skin on skin contact with passing strangers, Donghyuck had a frown on his face that seemed to grow deeper whenever a stranger did a double take at you. It was as if you could feel the anger radiating from behind you. You manoeuvred your joint hands to your stomach, forcing Donghyuck to stay pressed against your back.
He barely registers the close contact that’s happening between you two when you stopped walking, seemingly satisfied with the spot you had chosen. You lean your head backwards to smile up at Donghyuck. It’s a little lopsided but still full of energy. He wants to kiss you. The moment is cut short when the music transitions to an upbeat tempo. Your back is facing Donghyuck again as you move to the beat, still holding onto his arm which leaves him no choice but to stay close to you.
The alcohol he’s consumed barely compares to the intoxicating feeling of having you in his arms, bare skin brushing against each other while fully immersed in the moment. It’s not the same feeling as when you two first danced as kids or during your birthday party. There’s an underlying current of tension that’s building between you two, one that’s growing tauter as the wedding day approaches.
Donghyuck leans forward, his mouth inches away from your ear. “You never told me what we’re celebrating tonight for?”
You suddenly spin to face him and Donghyuck tightens his hold on you. “I never told you?” He shakes his head, his lips curling upwards. Donghyuck is absolutely smitten by you. “I finished my dissertation early!”
“Y/N!” Donghyuck cheers as he embraces you. You squeezed him tightly, happy to share your achievement with someone who cared about your wellbeing. “I’m so proud of you.” He presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. You don’t know if you were meant to hear it but you nuzzle your face in his shirt for a moment longer than necessary, allowing yourself to indulge in Donghyuck’s presence.
When it’s time to end the night, Donghyuck books a ride to your apartment. You’re slumped over his shoulder, a tired smile on your face but you’re still dazzling to Donghyuck. He gently touches your cheek. “Sleep,” he commands.
Your power nap was interrupted by a melodious voice, stirring you awake. You slide your hands into his while muttering farewell to the patient driver. Donghyuck follows from behind, enjoying the way you drag him around, leading him into your apartment. He watches you kick off your shoe on your own, holding onto the wall for support. After watching you fail, he decides to close the distance by kneeling in front of you, sliding the other shoe off your feet.
Your face burns and you dart your eyes away from him. “Thanks, Hyuck.”
You set a second pair of house slippers for him, staring at him expectantly. Donghyuck toes his shoes off at record time and slides into the house slippers. You offer him a satisfied grin and reclasp your hands with his. “Stay the night.”
Donghyuck’s eyes widened. “Sure? I’ll put you to bed.”
This earns a surprised laugh from you. “I don’t need your help!”
He shakes your joint hands, whining petulantly. “Let me win. I just wanted an excuse to take care of you.” You roll your eyes but the smile on your face never fades. Donghyuck knows he has won and he childishly celebrates with a hurrah.
You lightly tug his arm. “Take me to bed then.”
You’re happy that this time, you’re sober enough to be in the moment. You get the chance to admire the attention Donghyuck holds for you. The comforting feeling of seeing Donghyuck in your space helps you relax. He’s kneeling on your bed while he has you sitting cross legged in the middle, gently wiping away the makeup from your face. Every swipe from him is full of utmost care. You have never been gentle with yourself. It makes your heart flutter from such a simple gesture.
“That’s all of it,” Donghyuck says, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration.
“Thanks.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You’re partly entranced by him but another part of you is distracted by your growing affection for him. It’s times like these you wished things were simpler between you two.
He pulls away first, giving you the chance to make your escape however you choose to linger by the entrance of your en suite bathroom. You stared at him expectantly. “Stay the night, yeah? I need to get you something clean to sleep in.”
“I’m sure I’ll make do with whatever.” He gestures to his outfit and you raise a brow, unconvinced.
“Wait here,” you instructed softly as you walked off to your guestroom.
You come back to see Donghyuck seated by the edge of your bed, his body angled towards the door as he anticipates your return. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he beams at the sight of you.
“Here.” You pass him a stack of clean clothes. He eyes it suspiciously, accepting it with a pout playing on his lips.
“This doesn’t belong to an ex boyfriend right?”
“No.” You snorted. “It belonged to Sungchan,” you offhandedly answered.
The look of surprise on Donghyuck’s face was priceless. His jaw tensed, torn between anger and shock while his eyes were openly showcasing his stirring emotions.
You laugh in his face. It was too good of an opportunity to tease him. “I’m kidding! Oh my god!” The stony expression on his face has yet to crack so you scoop his hand into yours, offering him assurance. “I swear on our lives, the shirt belongs to my dad. As for the pants, they were too big for me and I was too lazy to return them.”
Donghyuck squeezes your joint hands and the prior anger melts away. “Okay,” he mutters before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. His lips graze your skin and your body tingles from the heat. “Thank you.”
You gently pull your hand out of his hold, eager to put some space between you two. You press the clothes into his chest and spin on your heels, making a swift escape to the bathroom.
After an unnecessarily long time in the shower, you decided to bite the bullet and face Donghyuck. You thought you had steeled yourself enough but the sight of Donghyuck standing in the middle of your room has you jumping in surprise.
“Donghyuck!” You yelled, a hand pressed to your chest.
He looked equally surprised. “I’m sorry, I was just coming in to set a glass of water and painkillers.”
Your shoulders dropped and your eyes moved behind him, catching sight of your nightstand. True enough, Donghyuck had brought in a bottle of medicine and your favourite mug.
Donghyuck purses his lips, his eyes moving towards the door. “I’ll be in your guestroom if you need anything.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? If you need someone to hold your hair back while you’re bent over the toilet, just wake me up.” He teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
You rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Get out,” you demanded but the ghost of your smile still remained.
Donghyuck holds his hands up in surrender. “Goodnight Y/N.”
You stayed rooted in your spot, offering him a small wave. “Goodnight Donghyuck.”
Silence enveloped your room and you didn’t mind it, knowing that Donghyuck was rooms away from you. You gingerly sat down by your bedside, gripping your mug as you tried to make sense of your heart. You were without a doubt, falling in love with Donghyuck all over again and you had no intention of ever stopping.
The morning of your wedding was a blur. You were first introduced to the beauty and styling team that you hired for the wedding. The day progresses quickly and the bridal room is open to visitors who file in and out like a constant stream, eager to bless you with their well wishes. A lot of small talk and hugs occurred and you could barely catch up.
Sungchan drops by to greet both you and Yizhou, the three of you enjoying a round of champagne and taking many pictures. Sungchan gives you a tight hug as he leaves.
Moments before you’re scheduled to walk down the aisle, you’re finally left alone. The silence that surrounds you weighs on your shoulders. Your eyes subconsciously drift to your ring finger, knowing that this is the last time it’ll be empty for the rest of your life. A mix of emotions cloud your mind. You reach for your bouquet when a loud knock resonates through the door, signaling that your time has arrived.
You loop your arms around your father’s as you walk to the back of the line. “Y/N,” your father softly muttered. He waits for you to look at him and you note the tears brimming around the corner of his eyes. “I hope I made the right choice. I hope he makes you happy.”
You clutch the bouquet of flowers closer to your chest. It was a bundle of sunflowers, hydrangeas and primroses, a mix comprising both of your favourite flowers. “You did.” You assured your father, confident of your answer.
The wedding march had begun and you quickly gave your father a peck on the cheek right before your veil was lifted over your face. Your cousin walks out first, joined by Jaemin. You watched from the end of the line as Yizhou accepted the arm Mark offered her. They reach the altar and finally, it was your turn to walk down the aisle.
Upon your first step, the piano notes shift into a different melody. Your eyes land on Donghyuck who has a small smile on his face. It comes as a genuine surprise to you once you register the melody of the song. Your heart thuds against your chest and you’re torn between breaking down into tears or leaping for joy. It is evident that Donghyuck hadn’t forgotten dancing with you at your birthday party all those years ago, the same song playing as you walk down the aisle towards him.
It’s a big cliche but you never stopped looking at Donghyuck. Not now, not when he’s openly staring back at you. There’s a matching secret grin that only you two understand. You can’t look away, you simply refuse to. Your father offers your hand to Donghyuck and he accepts it with so much tenderness, his fingers enveloping yours as he guides you to stand in front of him. You’re toe to toe, aligned with each other.
Time seems to move differently when you’re standing in front of Donghyuck, forced to look at him through a veil. There’s an undercurrent of want flowing not just in you, but Donghyuck as well. You try to soothe him by gently brushing your thumb against his palm.
Mark steps forward with the rings and you wet your mouth, eager not to mess up your exchange of vows.
“Do you, Lee Donghyuck, take Y/L/N Y/N as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part.”
He looks you in the eye, certain as ever. “I do.” The ring slips onto your finger, cool to the touch which leaves goosebumps in its wake. The significance of the ring is setting in.
“And do you, Y/L/N Y/N, take Lee Donghyuck as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part.”
You blindly reach for Donghyuck’s ring, too eager to complete the ceremony. Mark pushes the cushion into your hand and you pick up the ring. “I do,” you say as you slide the ring over Donghyuck’s ring finger. The ring sits perfectly below his knuckles. You squeeze his fingers tightly.
“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Donghyuck tightly squeezes your hands before releasing them. He’s already reaching for your veil when the minister says, “You may kiss the bride.”
The church roused with applause and cheers as your veil was thrown over your head. Donghyuck sneaks his hand to the back of your neck, pressing against it as he leaned forward to capture your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, succumbing to your first kiss with Donghyuck. It’s a hard press to your lips. Nothing too indecent for a sacred occasion but heavier than the shy peck you had expected from him.
You pull away to rest your nose against the slope of his, unable to tame the smile on your face. No coherent thought could come out of your mouth as you gaze into Donghyuck’s eyes.
“Onto forever.” He says it loud enough for you to hear. You nodded and he moved his hand to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in before you embarked on the mad dash down the aisle. One hand looped around Donghyuck’s neck and the other tightly clutching onto your bouquet, you couldn’t have imagined a better way to leave the church as a newly wedded couple.
It’s date night with your husband.
Three weeks have passed since the wedding and life has adjusted back to normal for everyone else. Meanwhile, you and Donghyuck were still balancing the newly wedded lifestyle. He had gone back to work and you were taking time to unwind from the stressful year that had passed.
Donghyuck had made a reservation for dinner and you had agreed to meet him there. You spend the whole day sitting in your jittery feelings, wildly anticipating seeing him.
Dinner was a lovely affair. You were sitting in a fancy restaurant, situated on the rooftop of an esteemed hotel. Conversation flowed between you two, from anecdotes of Donghyuck’s day at work to recounting the cherished memories of the wedding.
The hostess politely interrupts, carrying a plate of brownies topped with ice cream. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Here’s a complimentary cake from us. Congratulations and cheers to your future.”
The two of you eyed the plate, surprised to see a message written on it. Congrats to the love birds. You cover your face with your hands and Donghyuck laughs in disbelief. “This is crazy,” you said.
“No one taught us how to maximise our marriage.”
You slowly pulled your hands away and discovered that Donghyuck had been recording you the whole time. Shit. “Hyuck!”
“What?” He asks, chuckling from behind his phone.
You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god. Delete that.”
“Why? You look gorgeous.”
You frown at him but it fails to make an impact on Donghyuck. He takes one last picture of you before putting his phone away. “I wanted pictures to remember this by.” Donghyuck confesses as he takes a sip of his drink.
Your features softened and you were no longer annoyed by him. Taking a clean spoon, you cut into the brownie, scooping a big portion and lifting it to Donghyuck’s face. “Here.” You offered.
He looks from the spoon to your face, face heating up from the attention you were giving him. Donghyuck cranes his neck forward and accepts the offer, taking a bite from the spoon.
“Is it good?” You asked. Donghyuck hopes he doesn’t have any bit of chocolate smudge on his lips as he nodded wordlessly.
He hadn’t expected you to use the same spoon, licking at the remnants of chocolate before diving into the brownie to get a taste for yourself. Donghyuck grows slightly dazed, knowing how unaffected you are by the intimacy. His mouth grows dry at the thought of your lips. It has been three weeks without your kiss after all. He knows he’ll have to keep waiting for a chance to kiss you again.
You lightly nudge him out of his trance, your foot hitting him under the table. Donghyuck looks downward then at your face. You offer him a cheeky smile and he’s back with you, pushing aside any distractions.
It’s a beautiful night and the sky is clear enough to gaze at. You suggest going for a drive near the Han River. It was a refreshing experience for you. You and Donghyuck never had the chance to hang out casually, having missed each other throughout your adolescent years and your early twenties. Now, as husband and wife, you two have the chance to bask in the silence together.
You shiver slightly as the wind blows, your hair falling over your face. A jacket is suddenly draped over your shoulders and you gripped the fabric tightly. “Are you sure?”
“I have to take care of my wife.” You can’t deny that his intentions made you feel warm all over. You accepted his offer without much fight and slid your hands into his jacket, engulfed by Donghyuck’s lingering warmth. You could even smell the remnants of his cologne when you lean closer into the jacket.
Another lapse of comfortable silence passes when you felt a drop of water on the top of your head. You turn to Donghyuck with a frown. “Did you feel that?”
He sticks his hand out and you watch expectantly. Donghyuck jumps in surprise when the droplets of rain land on his palm. He laughs. “Oh shit, we have to go.”
In a matter of minutes, the sky is covered with thick clouds and the rain begins to fall steadily. The car park is a reasonable distance. All around, the trees begin swaying as you two rush to the car. You stopped in your tracks and Donghyuck slowed down to yell at you. “Hurry!”
You fumble with his jacket and create a makeshift cover, running up to him. “Get under.”
He joins you, one arm reaching for the sleeves of his jacket and the other wrapping around your shoulder to pull you close to him. The rain pours down on you two and you couldn’t help but laugh at your current predicament. Your glee was contagious and Donghyuck laughed along, melting into the sound of the downpour.
He ushered you into the passenger seat of his car before running over to the driver's side, his hair completely drenched. Donghyuck starts the engine and you blast the heater, adjusting the angle to blow towards Donghyuck.
“Aren’t you cold?” Even when his teeth are chattering and he’s visibly shaking, Donghyuck still tries to look after you. You rolled your eyes fondly. “You sacrificed your jacket for me. Just defrost a little, okay?”
You don’t miss the smile that’s tugged at the corner of his lips as he snuggles into the driver's seat, giving up his fight. When he deems himself warm enough, he begins the drive to your apartment. You keep your gaze on his profile, staring unabashedly. Donghyuck stares back several times. He can’t quite tame the feelings blossoming in his chest. He clenches the steering wheel, eager to make it back to your apartment.
Your intertwined hands keep each other warm. He follows you through your apartment and as always, he’s happy to have you pull him in whatever direction. You bring him into your room and grab two fresh sets of towels.
“Go in here. I’ll use the spare shower.” You hold the stacked towels and Donghyuck apprehensively glances at it, reluctant to separate from you. His eyes rove back at you and his eyes widen into a pleading look. You frowned. “What is it?”
“I want to stay with you.” Donghyuck shamelessly answered.
Your cheeks heat up and you push the towel to his chest, causing him to stumble backwards. “Don’t be stupid. We are both drenched and will fall sick. It is faster this way.”
His pout is still present but he finally accepts the fresh towel, your hands freed from his. The cold immediately replaces his warmth. “Go. I’ll need to find something you can fit in while waiting for your clothes to dry.” You tell him, keeping yourself away from the thoughts running through your head.
Donghyuck looks at you longingly for one last time before conceding to your instructions. You let out the breath you were holding when you heard the lock on the bathroom door, slouching against the wall to calm your nerves. After laying out the spare clothes you had stolen from your fathers closet, you quickly grabbed your own clothes and rushed to the spare shower.
Alone, surrounded by the tiled walls of your shower, you’re given some reprieve from your racing feelings. You didn’t mean to take a long shower but the stream of hot water was what you needed to unwind. By the time you returned to your room with a towel wrapped around your head, donning an oversized shirt and sweatpants, Donghyuck was already waiting for you on the edge of your bed.
You blinked at the sight. His hair was fluffy after a shower and your fathers shirt sits loosely over his frame, making Donghyuck look cuter than usual. Donghyuck has a sheepish look on his face as he obediently waits for your return.
“Come here,” you say as you walk over to your dressing table. You’re pulling out your hair dryer when Donghyuck stands beside you. You grinned at him. “Sit. I’ll dry your hair.”
Again, Donghyuck easily follows your direction as he settles down in front of the vanity. You work quietly as you dry his hair, brushing it with utmost care reminding you of your younger days, when he would let you style his hair. You gently apply some hair oil to your hands and run it through his soft strands. Standing close to him, you can smell the fragrant scent of your shampoo lingering on his hair. You inhale deeply.
Donghyuck breaks the silence as he murmurs softly, “Your turn.”
The tranquility that sits between you and him is too enjoyable to ruin so you let him have his way, inwardly pleased to have Donghyuck take care of you. He removes the towel from your head and begins working on your hair. Donghyuck is practically a magician. He expertly massages your head as he rubs your hair products into your hair. You’re content with the silence between you two as he brushes your hair before drying it.
When he’s done, Donghyuck tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over your shoulder to whisper in your ear. “You’re stunning.”
You meet his eyes through the mirror and you immediately grow shy, looking away and getting up from your seat. “Thanks,” you mutter as you busy yourself with tidying up the vanity.
Thankfully, Donghyuck gives you some space as he steps back to watch you. You can feel his eyes on you even with your back turned to him. It makes your heart skip a beat.
Once you’ve kept all of your things, you are forced to face Donghyuck again. You slowly turn on your heels to face him and he is already looking at you. Donghyuck’s stare has been fixed on you the whole time and you grow nervous under his stare, the weight of it starting to unnerve you.
Donghyuck’s gaze grows deeper as he straightens his posture, looking you dead in the eye. His resolve has hardened. It was a foreboding moment in which you were powerless to stop but you still tried. “Y/N, I love–”
Your eyes widened in fear. “Stop. Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.” You point at him accusingly.
His gaze falls to the distance between you two, unable to fathom how he ended up in this position when moments ago, you were inseparable. “Why? Are you scared?”
You part your mouth in disbelief. He wasn’t mocking you. Donghyuck was genuinely trying to get through you. The pressure of it all has you cracking under it. “Because I don’t know what’s going on between us anymore! You treat me with so much tenderness and affection, crossing the boundaries we have set, ever so often. My rationality flies out the window when I’m with you. I have a reason to be scared because the last time you treated me this way, you rejected me!” You exploded.
Donghyuck can see the way you’re shaking, a similar visual to the night of his birthday party. Even as the tears begin to gather in your eyes, he forces himself to stay calm for your sake. “I was a fool, Y/N. I am sorry but I get it now.”
“Are you sure you’re not just caught up in the moment?” You ask as your gaze drops to the ground. Donghyuck frowns deeply. You have become so small in the short span of your conversation. It hurts him to see you this way.
“God, no. Never.” He pleads as he steps into your space, one hand gently cupping your head, lifting your chin upwards to look you in the eye. “I love you. I have loved you forever ago and I’ll love you forevermore.”
Your vision blurs completely. “I love you,” you whispered into the hushed silence. Donghyuck slowly leans forward to bring your foreheads together. You blink away at the stray tears that pooled in your eyes. “I love you, Lee Donghyuck,” you repeated.
He nodded and closed his eyes, uncaring when your tears fell on his face. “I love you,” Donghyuck whispers as he holds you close, finally catching you as you fall apart in his palms.
Between job hunting and apartment hunting, your honeymoon couldn’t have been a better excuse to leave the world behind.
The sun shimmers in the sky. You’re leaning against cobbled streets that have been around longer than your existence, when Donghyuck comes over jogging to you. You chided lightly. “Slow down. I don’t want you to fall.”
Donghyuck almost crashes into the wall but he plays it off with a coy smile. “I love falling for you.”
You scrunched your nose, cringing at his joke. “You’re terrible.”
“Too bad. You’re married to me for life.” Donghyuck teases.
“Indeed, I am.” Your eyes flit to the ring on his finger and you smiled softly. “Hey, what took you so long?”
Donghyuck perked up. “I asked the receptionist for some help. He told me a few nights ago to visit a particular bakery. Thought we could venture out before lunchtime.”
You wrapped your arm around his, interlocking your fingers together. “Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”
Savoury treats, sweet drinks and good company is all you needed and Donghyuck eagerly met your needs. The moonlight reflects on the cobbled stones of ground, a soft glow leading the way around the city. His fingers shyly brush yours after every few steps. It’s only been two months since the confession and Donghyuck has demonstrated impeccable patience with you. You knew this trip was a way to finally start returning the favour.
You timed it correctly, firmly pulling his fingers into your hold and intertwining it together. You can feel the surprise jolting through Donghyuck which elicits a giggle from you.
“What’s going on?” He asks, aiming for a relaxed tone but ultimately, you can hear his underlying worry.
“I felt like holding hands with my husband.” You lift your gaze to smile at him, “I know you like this.”
Just as you had expected, Donghyuck starts blushing. His composure doesn’t break much to his credit. He remains collected and squeezes your hand tightly. “I do. I do like this and I like you.”
“Like?” You asked, voice lilt in an attempt to push Donghyuck’s buttons.
You hear Donghyuck muttering under his breath and you laugh gleefully, knowing he has fallen straight into your trap. It’s too easy to tease Donghyuck. It’s a skill that never faded away even after all those years apart.
“I’m the luckiest girl alive. My husband likes me.” You said loudly. Some passersby give you a quizzical look as Donghyuck’s face burns with mild embarrassment.
“I don’t like you.” His face is red but his eyes are filled with determination. You’ve seen this version of Donghyuck many times under various circumstances. He’s standing his ground. Donghyuck looks at you, maintaining a steady grip on your hand.
“Hm?”
“I love you.” He declares.
You slowly reach out to gently cup his cheeks, caressing it ever so softly. Hearing him say it still makes your world spin round, giddy with joy and excitement. Standing on your toes, you inch your head upwards to give him a peck on the lip.
Donghyuck squeaks out of surprise and the kiss ends as quickly as it happens. His eyes are rounded, seemingly frozen and fixed on you. You smiled sheepishly as pink dust the apples of your cheeks. “I love you,” you said.
Donghyuck blinks and suddenly you’re being pulled into his body, stumbling over your feet as you land on his chest. You exclaimed softly and he wrapped his slender arms around your waist, grounding you.
“You can’t just do that.” His eyes are roving across your face. It’s clear that his restraint has stretched thinly. You pulled your lips into a smirk as you confidently met his gaze. “What are you going to do about it?”
Your eyes fall shut as Donghyuck presses his lips against yours, this time with more pressure than your attempt. He takes his time with you, kissing your breath away, bathed underneath the moonlight. Your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and Donghyuck groans.
The kiss breaks and you’re smiling wildly at him. “I’m yours, Hyuck. I’m not going anywhere.”
You trail your other hand up his chest, pressing it flat against his shirt to feel his heartbeat. You look at him in awe and he leans down to rub his nose against your cheekbone. Donghyuck utters, “And I’m yours. Forever and always.”
synopsis: Haechan would much rather spend his birthday at home, gaming with his friends. A simple night to celebrate. However, fate and Na Jaemin have other plans. He’s dragged out to a bar against his will. But, when he meets you, Haechan decides this is his favorite birthday yet.
fluff & smut, 5.7k wc
warnings: non-idol!au, fluff.reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is referred to as donghyuck, Dreamies are annoying LMAO, smut, terrible writing, technically unprotected sex (no mention of condom or birth control), alcohol, getting drunk, bar scene, swearing. i think that’s all? Please let me know if I missed anything
a/n: Happy birthday to my favorite boy ever. Happy Hae Day!!!!!!! This is based on the lyrics of drop dead by Olivia Rodrigo. I’ve been loving this song so much and with Haechan’s birthday coming up, I wanted to combine the two. This is very rushed (life’s always busy) but I tried my best!! If you see any mistakes, I’m sorry in advance. This is also my first time posting smut SO PLEASE BE NICE THANK YOUUUUU that’s all. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy 🤍
Donghyuck had a plan. On June 6th, he would sleep in, lounge around all day, have his brothers over, order delivery, and then game the whole night. Cake too, if he remembers.
Na Jaemin has a different plan.
A plan that Donghyuck is unaware of until now.
The birthday boy’s original plans had gone accordingly throughout the day. He woke up at a time far past morning and continued to stay in bed even later. Any other weekend, he’d have plans, appointments, places to be, but today is his day. No one and nothing to answer to unless he wills it.
Donghyuck smiles when he hears the doorbell ring- those would be his brothers, friends he’d known for the better part of a decade, the only people he wants to spend his birthday with.
He strolls up lazily to his front door, phone already open to a food delivery app.
However. When Donghyuck opens the door and sees Na Jaemin’s big smile, he feels his heart drop, dread washing over him.
He knows something is wrong when he steps back and really observes his friends.
Why is Renjun wearing his clubbing boots? Why are Jisung and Chenle holding two six packs of beer? Why is Jeno avoiding his gaze? Why is Mark wearing his good leather jacket? And, why is Jaemin looking at him with the most shit-eating grin he’s ever seen?
“What are you wearing?” Donghyuck starts, eyebrows raised so far you might think they’ll float off his face.
Jaemin claps back immediately, “What are you wearing?”
Donghyuck looks down at the sweatpants and old t-shirt he’s currently adorned in.
“I’m wearing clothes appropriate for a nice night in of pizza and gaming. Why the hell are you all dressed like that?”
Jaemin hums and they all push past the birthday boy, stepping into the apartment like they own it.
(With how much they stay over, they basically do at this point.)
The sound of the front door closing shocks Donghyuck out of his astonishment and he follows his friends into the kitchen.
“We’re going out. Tonight.” Jaemin says like it’s obvious. The friends work quickly around the space, pulling out glasses and bottle openers.
“No we’re not.” Donghyuck says sternly.
“I assure you, we are.” Jeno speaks up with a sigh, against the idea of going out in the first place but what Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle want- they get.
“I’m sorry?” Donghyuck says, growing more frustrated by the minute. “Did you forget whose birthday it is today? I don’t want to go out.”
Jaemin walks over to face him directly.
“Baby,” he starts, to which Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You only turn 26 once! You are a young, handsome bachelor. Why are you wasting your 26th birthday inside?”
Donghyuck steps back and rebuts- “It’s not a waste if it’s what I want to do.” Jaemin hums, point taken. But, he won’t give up. He refuses to let his friend stay home on his birthday.
“He’s not gonna take no for an answer, Hyuck. Let’s just go out tonight and we won’t bother you tomorrow.” Mark speaks up, snacking on some chips he found in his pantry.
The birthday boy scoffs. Closing his eyes as he weighs his options.
He wanted to celebrate with his friends. If his friends want to spend tonight at a bar, he guesses that’s okay.
Just as he’s about to surrender, Jaemin speaks up again.
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a pretty lady and she can make the whole night for you,” eyes wiggling suggestively in his Jaemin manner.
Donghyuck groans and turns to walk out of the room. “Fine. I’ll go get ready.”
He only hears the echoes of cheers as a response.
-
An hour later, Donghyuck emerges back into the kitchen. Hair slightly damp from his shower but still swept back with a light gel. A nice t-shirt compliments his frame and the leather jacket he wears on top accentuates his shoulders. Bootcut dark-wash jeans elongate his legs. Tying it all together is a pair of black boots. He looks good , even if he doesn’t feel like it.
Chenle whistles and Jaemin ‘woo-hoos’ when they see the man of the evening has returned in appropriate bar attire. Donghyuck shakes his head and reaches for a beer. God, he needs a drink.
Thankfully, they ordered pizza while he was getting ready. Eating and drinking commence while camaraderie takes place around him. He listens to Mark and Renjun have a debate about the best hotpot ingredients; he watches Jisung lose drinking games again and again to Chenle while Jeno and Jaemin (and himself) watch fondly.
The beer and pizza loosen him up a little bit and he feels better about the prospective of going out tonight. It could be fun, he supposes.
7:30 p.m. comes and the group starts getting ready to go- Chenle mentioning something about Jaehyun saving them a table.
Everyone is a little tipsy and in good spirits, even the birthday boy.
-
Soon enough, their taxi pulls up to a lively bar. Donghyuck had never been here before.
“Is this place new?” He wonders out loud.
“No,” Chenle answers for him, “But, Jaehyun recently took over the management and he really revived the place.”
Donghyuck could do nothing but agree. Groups gather at every table outside the bar, drinks on tables and in hands, cigarette smoke wafting through the warm summer air, but not enough to overwhelm you. The chatter is joyful and lively- you could tell good stories are being shared all around. Lamps extending from the brick exterior of the building give enough light to see in front of you but leave enough darkness to hide an intimate moment if you wanted to.
That thought give Donghyuck chills.
He follows his friends inside the bar, feeling relief that the good energy follows as well. The inside matches the outside, except a little louder as the chatter was now contained within four walls. Stone floors, wood paneling, tables, and chairs, warm lighting, small paintings decorating the walls- it reminds him of an English pub he visited during a boy’s trip to London a few years ago. The memory warms him inside.
Chenle finds Jaehyun soon enough. The older man’s face lights up when he sees the group has arrived. He moves from behind the bar to greet them properly.
“Donghyuck!” He shakes his hand.
“Been a while.” He replies with a smile. It has been a while since he saw his friend. Jaehyun graduated a few years before him, and post-grad life kept them busier than they anticipated.
“Happy birthday man!” Jaehyun claps him on the back affectionately. “I saved a booth for you guys.”
He leads the way and the younger men follow him like ducklings. Their table is a little tucked away from the main scene, to which Donghyuck feels a little relief- it’s just a bit quieter and it gives the group a chance to be with themselves. There’s only one other table- a high-top table where three young women sit, seemingly wrapped up in their own friendship too.
Once they get settled and order their first round of drinks, Donghyuck feels more at ease. Him and his friends carry on their own lively conversation. Sharing memories, inside jokes, teasing each other- the friendship flowed effortlessly between them. Donghyuck realizes that this is all he wanted- whether it was in his own home or in the bar, the company with him is all that matters.
He stands up to help Renjun with the next round of beers- he’s strictly prohibited from paying for any round tonight- but he’ll help carry the drinks as a thank you.
Falling into conversation with Jaehyun, Donghyuck didn’t even notice another figure appear next to him. Didn’t notice until-
“Can I get three pints of Kloud please?” A sweet voice interrupts.
Nothing could prepare Donghyuck for the vision he sets his eyes on.
Is he so far gone that he’s seeing angels now?
You lean forward on the bar with a smile that matches your sweet voice. Somehow there are stars in your eyes that compliment the flush in your cheeks.
Donghyuck can’t breathe for a second- mind and body too busy taking you in- the way you look just like heaven. The conversation with Jaehyun and the beers in front of him long forgotten.
“Are you ever gonna try anything else?” Jaehyun teases you with a playful grin, preparing your pints nevertheless.
“We know what we like, nothing wrong with that.” You play back. Your smile grows and it makes Donghyuck very nervous.
Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed the silent stranger whose eyes were glued to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he looked away for a moment. Unfortunately, the stranger’s friend behind the bar did notice Donghyuck’s sudden quietness.
When he takes your card from you, he nods his head toward the man next to you.
“It’s my good friend’s birthday tonight.”
Donghyuck looks away quickly to not be caught staring at you. He stares down an old water stain on the bar top while his cheeks fail to hide his blush.
When your eyes do land on the dark-haired boy, warmth rushes over you. In the moment, you’re keen to blame it on the alcohol.
It’s amazing how someone who looks so cool can simultaneously be so shy.
You feel endeared toward him and you’ve not yet spoken a word.
“Happy birthday.”
Your honey voice sounds like music to his ears and when he looks up to meet your gaze, an entire symphony erupts.
Are everyone’s eyes so pretty? How are you so pretty?
“Thank you.” He hopes you can feel his genuineness and when your smile grows just a bit more, he has a feeling you do.
Your eyes break away from his and move to the drinks sitting in front of him, “Surely you’re not paying for your own drinks tonight.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, no. My friend would never let me pay tonight- they’d hide my wallet if they could.”
You giggle in response and he feels his confidence returning. Thank god. He’d never forgive himself if he fumbled that bad in front of you.
“You have good friends.”
“Yes, I do.” He agrees. You two then fall into easy conversation, how you each know Jaehyun, your jobs, where you’re from, your current neighborhood- not the most exciting conversations but Donghyuck makes it fun anyway.
Pints and beers long forgotten in front of you, swept up in the company beside you.
“I just moved a few months-“
“Donghyuck-ah!” comes the booming voice of Zhong Chenle. The man in question flinches, praying to any god listening that this younger brother won’t embarrass him.
“Why are you taking so long? The beer must be- oh.” Chenle stops his complaint as soon as he sees what- rather who- has kept Donghyuck from returning to their table. A teasing smile immediately appears on his face as he glances between you two. Donghyuck adorns a tight lipped smile while you smile as if you’re not bothered at all. Matter of fact, you’re curious about Donghyuck’s friend.
“I see.” Chenle says, mostly to himself. It’s taking every thing in him not burst into giggles.
“I’m sorry I kept your friend and your beers.” You shoot Chenle a smile, but the playful glint in your eyes tells everyone that you’re not really sorry.
“No, no. Not a problem at all.” He says, big goofy grin on his face. “I’m Chenle.” He holds his hand out, which you shake. Irritation grows in Donghyuck’s chest. He was perfectly content getting to know you within your own bubble.
“I’ve heard.” You grin, turning back to the handsome boy whose cheeks are flushed once again.
“You know he didn’t even want to come out tonight.” Chenle starts; he can’t help but being a shit-stirrer, even on his friend’s birthday.
You feign shock before sending Donghyuck a sweet smile. “Well, I’m very happy you did.”
“Me too.” He admits. Chenle grabs the beers and leaves the two of you, alone once again.
Just as you’re about to continue your conversation, a familiar melody starts playing through the bar. Donghyuck wishes he could capture the way your face lights up and frame it forever.
“Just Like Heaven” by The Cure- one of his favorite songs.
“I love this song!” You exclaims.
One of yours too it seems.
You start singing the lyrics, and Donghyuck joins in, unable to resist.
You wish you had a tape recorder so you could capture his sweet voice and listen to it on repeat forever.
No one pays attention to you both- well except for the two tables of friends who are already planning all the jokes they’ll make about the two of you. But, you pay no mind to them. You’re lost in your own world.
“You
Soft and lonely
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven”
When the song finishes, your eyes meet Donghyuck’s; and though out of breath, you both burst into a fit of giggles.
“I think we’ll deserve a drink after that.” He declares, already pulling out his wallet.
“Oh no.” You place a hand on his arm, making Donghyuck freeze. “I can’t let the man of the hour pay for a drink on his birthday.”
He shakes his head and takes out his card anyway. “Since it’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want. And, what I want is to pay for a pretty girl’s drink. What would you like? A pint of Kloud?”
You’re grateful he’s turned his head away from you so he can’t see the blush that graces your cheeks.
He’s thinks I’m pretty.
“Yes, please.”
With drinks in hand, Donghyuck offers to walk you back to your table. Initial disappointment weighs on your chest. Is this where it ends? A handsome stranger charms you to a blushing mess, buys you a drink, and now he’ll walk you back to your table and….leave you alone for the rest of the night?
No. Something inside tells you that it’s not over yet. A gut feeling. An intuition.
“Where’s your table?” Donghyuck puts his hand lightly on your lower back to help guide you through the still-crowded bar. He hopes you don’t feel the way it shakes.
“It’s in that corner back there.” You point. When Donghyuck follows your gesture, he realizes it’s the high top right next to his booth.
“Oh you’re right next to mine!”
When you get closer, you realize that you do recognize Chenle at Donghyuck’s table.
You pause in front of the tables, looking at him, hopeful that this won’t be where you part for the night.
“So, we’re here.” You prod. He can practically see the hope shining in your eyes.
“Thanks for talking with me tonight. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening with your friends.”
Donghyuck winces at this own response. He can’t believe he just said that. He’s too out of practice, too sober, to think of a flirty, clever way to talk to you more. He shifts his gaze to avoid seeing your disappointment, but is unfortunately met with the disapproval of his friends. Renjun sighs and Jisung shakes his head.
“I hope you have a good birthday.” You say softly before walking back to your table.
As soon as Donghyuck returns to his seat, the scolding begins- though at low whispers as to not be heard by the neighboring group.
“Are you stupid?” Jaemin scolds him in a whisper-shout.
“Oh my…” Mark mutters to himself.
“Even, Jisungie is better at flirting than that.” Renjun sighs out again.
“What do you guys suggest I do? Hm?” He exhales, looking at his friends expectedly. If they were going to nag him, the least they could do is offer him some solid advice.
However, as he suspected, the table grows quiet. “Exactly. Let’s keep our comments to ourselves.” Then, he takes a long sip of his beer.
Camaraderie ensues again, but Donghyuck can’t stay focused. His eyes keep moving back to you. The way you’re leaned on the hightop table, fully focused on the story your friend is telling, and how your eyes somehow sparkle in the low bar lighting- he thinks you’re so pretty.
You catch him staring at you a few times, but before you can hold the eye contact, he looks away, as if embarrassed.
“This is your chance.” Jaemin mutters to Donghyuck, snapping him out of his daydream.
“Hm?”
“Her drink. It’s empty. Offer to buy her a new one and then ask you if can talk more privately.”
Donghyuck thought for a moment. It’s actually a good idea. What’s the worst that could happen? You could laugh in his face and tell him he missed his chance.
But you wouldn’t do that.
He stands up, his own empty beer glass in his hand, and walks around to your table. He feels even more pleased with his decision when your face lights up seeing him in front of you.
“I see you’ve got an empty glass. Care for a refill?”
“Who’s paying?” You prod with a teasing grin.
“It’s on me if that’s okay with you.”
“More than okay.”
Donghyuck is sporting a full toothed grin now. Feeling brave, he holds his hand out. When you take it, he feels on top of the world. A simple gesture has him flying.
He leads you back to the bar, pays for your drink as promised. Comfortable silence comes over you while you watch Jaehyun pour your beers.
“I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be staying but I wanna talk with you more, away from my nosy friends.” He says as confidently as he can.
You blush- you were right to listen to your heart. This is not over. “I’d like that a lot actually. You know I was a little disappointed when you went back to your table.”
Donghyuck throws his head back and groans, “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” The dramatics make you giggle.
“It’s okay. I’ll just go let my friends know.” Donghyuck watches you walk back to your tables. He’s entranced by you, completely. Taking a deep breath, he prays that tonight goes in his favor.
It’s his birthday after all.
Not even minutes later, you return.
“Let’s go to that table over there.” As he follows you, he finally notices that the bar has considerably cleared out. Soft jazz music now plays through the speakers. A mellowed out vibe compared to an hour earlier. This puts him more at ease.
You both slide into the booth, only centimeters separate you. You’re practically sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling the heat radiate off him.
Conversation between you both begins again, flowing like it never stopped. You talk about the friends here with you tonight, your go-to coffee orders, your travels- if he’s ever been to Japan or France. Everything and anything in between.
Somehow you’ve both drifted closer to each other, shoulders now touching. You’re leaning into him as he is into you. Beer glasses still half-full- too caught up in the company next to you to care.
You can hardly focus on anything at this point. His proximity makes your head spin- or maybe that’s the alcohol still in your system you’re not sure. All you know is you can hardly focus on anything but the way his lips move as he talks. They look so soft. How would they feel moving against yours?
“….That’s when I told Jeno he was absolutely crazy. Are you even listening to me right now?” He teases.
You can only hum and nod as your reply, too dazed and entranced by him to properly say yes. Even so, it’d be a lie. You were not listening; you were just staring at his lips and begging any higher power listening that they would whisper to Donghyuck that-
“Y/n….can I kiss you right now?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid he’ll pop the perfect bubble you’re in right now.
Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes
You nod and before you know it, he’s leaning in.
You expected fire- hot and heavy that makes you flinch if it burns too long. But, the moment your lips meet Donghyuck’s, it’s warm. Not sparks, a steady flow of electricity that makes you feel alive. His lips are as soft as they look. He applies the perfect amount of pressure that doesn’t push you away but still leaves you wanting more. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and bring you closer together. Your mouths move more fervently and one hand comes up to rest on his chest to keep you steady. You’re starting to squirm, that electric flow awakening other parts within you. If he stops now, you might drop dead.
To your dismay, he pulls away, leaving you both breathing heavy. He smiles, a mix between embarrassment and satisfaction.
“You know the bar closes at 11.” He mutters. You turn to check the wall clock.
10:45
“Maybe, if you never finish your beer. We’ll never have to go.” You joke, but there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You’re worried once you exit the walls of this bar, you’ll go back to being strangers. Then, you’ll spend the rest of your life missing that one handsome man you met at a random bar in your twenties.
“I don’t think Jaehyun would like that.” He says while patting your head affectionately as you pout in response.
“It’s getting late. Let me take you home.”
Such a simple statement stirs butterflies in your chest. You’re still feeling buzzed from the kiss you just shared.
“My apartment’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Lead the way pretty girl.”
You both bid goodbye to Jaehyun who is already starting to clean up. If you two weren’t so caught up in yourselves, you would’ve read the phone messages your friends sent you that they’ve gone home.
You don’t know when your hands connected after leaving the bar but you’re more than happy they did. The action warms your heart more than the alcohol tonight ever did.
You swing your hands together almost childlike as he walks you home. The light to guide the way are the street lamps. But, you’re not scared. Not with Donghyuck by your side.
“What did you do for your birthday today? Before the bar?”
“Hmm,” He thinks for a minute, “I slept in really late and stayed in my pajamas most of the day until my friends took me to the bar.”
“You didn’t do a lot..” You murmur.
“It’s exactly how I wanted it to go.” He raises your intertwined hands and kisses the back of yours. Donghyuck of course leaves out the part that his friends had to practically drag him out of his apartment to this bar. He figures you don’t need to know that.
“Did you have any cake at least?”
“Hmm. Nope. No cake.”
You completely stop in your tracks. He walks a few steps before feeling a tug on his hand.
“You didn’t have any cake?” You ask incredulously, eyes practically bugging out of your skull. Donghyuck chuckles to himself at the sight. You’re so damn cute, and dramatic.
“I guess we just kind of forgot.” He shrugs.
“We have to fix this.” You shake your head. “There’s a convenience store the block before my apartment. Let’s see if we can find something in there.”
He doesn’t argue with you, letting you pull him forward. Donghyuck doesn’t know you well but he has a feeling once you set your mind to something, there’s no convincing you otherwise.
Sure enough, after walking a ten more minutes, you’re stood in front of a 24 hour conveniences store. The bright light glowing from the sign almost makes Donghyuck squint.
The bell rings as you push yourself inside, dragging the birthday boy behind with your intertwined hands.
The clock reads 11:07. Plenty of time.
You scan the aisles diligently; Donghyuck follows like a lost puppy (he practically is one in this moment). Finding a pack of two basic candles, all that’s left is a cake, or something close to.
“All they have is a big chocolate cookie or a cup of strawberry ice cream.” You frown. Donghyuck feels the temptation to kiss it right off you. He refrains for now- you’re on a serious mission after all.
“Whatever you want pretty.” He says, moving his thumb across your hand absentmindedly. Donghyuck truly doesn’t mind- he’s not even sure he wants a sweet treat. But, you’re so determined, he can’t say no to you.
“But it’s your birthday. I want you to choose.” You whine.
“Ok. Let’s do strawberry ice cream and we can share it.” You smile in satisfaction before taking the both of you to the register.
“Oh! Do you have a lighter?”
After he shakes his head, you take one off the shelf and start to pay. Best believe, Donghyuck insisted he pay but, you argued back that he payed for your two drinks and it’s a gift for his birthday. He conceded in the end.
Next thing you know- you’re sat on the curb outside of the store. You prepare the impromptu birthday cake, carefully placing the two candles in the very small cup of ice cream.
“Ready?”
He nods, giving you the okay to light the candles.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..”
Your voice is so sweet. He wants to drown in the honey. He wants to freeze this moment. Just between you and him, and the bright convenience store lights.
“Make a wish!” You whisper.
He closes his eyes and really wishes.
He wishes for more moments like this with you. He wishes that this isn’t the end of your journey together. He wishes that by the end of the night he’ll be brave enough to get your number. He wishes this, whatever this is, will blossom into so much more.
Donghyuck will never say any of this out loud though. He won’t risk anything for his wish to not come true.
He opens his eyes and blows out the candles. You cheer and watch the smoke dissolves into the summer night.
11:35 perfect timing.
“Happy birthday, Donghyuck.” You smile at him shyly. He wants to eat you alive. How can you have such a hold on him? Not even four hours ago, he hadn’t even known you. He never wants to go back there again.
You both dig into the ice cream. Granted, you each only get about four full bites in before the cup is finished.
“Best birthday cake ever.” He says, and you giggle in reply. He hopes you know that he means it though. Silence settles over you. It’s disgusting- the hearts that are coming out of both your eyes. Anyone would become sick looking at the two of you.
Donghyuck brings a hand up to your cheek. “You have a little something here….” And, he’s kissing you again. It’s sweeter this time- the lingering taste of strawberry on both your lips. In sheer desperation, you grab his shirt to pull him closer. He opens his mouth in response to you, his body telling you that he wants you as much as you want him. Your tongues dance together, in perfect sync. Breathing in each other’s air, you’re bordering on exhibitionism.
Maybe, not that far.
But, if he keeps this up, you might ask him to take you right here on the curb.
“Please take me home.” You whine, breaking away, an unfortunate but necessary communication.
“Okay, yes, okay.” He stands up, helping you in the process. You’re a giggling fluttering mess, practicing skipping the rest of the block to your apartment. Donghyuck follows close behind, extremely amused and equally as happy.
His hands are on your waist as you come to your front door. You fumble with the keys, from both nerves and giddiness
As soon as the door opens and closes, he’s on you again. Arms wraps around your waist to pull you close and your lips connect again, moving with more passion than before. It’s quite a haphazard scene- the two of you walking backward in the dark completely unaware and uncaring about your surroundings.
Eventually, Donghyuck taps your thigh. You hop up and wrap your legs around his waist, fully supported by him now.
“Where’s your bedroom sweet girl?” He detaches for a moment and then continues kissing down your neck, waiting for your reply.
“To the left, down the hall.”
He walks with haste; you appreciate it. Pushing open your bedroom door, he sets you down, now hovering over you.
“I should prep you baby. What do you want?” He says, searching your eyes. You look like a dream- face flushed, hair laid out around you like a halo. The moonlight that shines through your window seems to make you sparkle.
You blush at the question. What do you want? Your mind is too clouded by him . That’s the only answer you have.
“Just want you.” You murmur. He hums and thinks.
“Really want to be inside you. How about my fingers? I’ll eat you out another time- I’ll do it slow and properly next time. Is that okay?”
You nod frantically. You’d have him in anyway; it didn’t matter to you.
“Need words.” He whispers, hardly a centimeter from your face.
“Please fuck me, Donghyuck.” You practically whine out, growing patient. If you weren’t such a horny mess, you’d be more appreciative at his thoughtfulness.
With the green light, he helps to strip you, throwing the clothing across your room.
God, you’re a sight. He could come just looking at you.
He full crawls on top of you, connecting you lips once again. One arm braces himself over you while the other one snakes down your torso. You whine into his mouth when his hand stops at your hip. Your body tries to take initiative when your hips buck into him. He chuckles into your mouth.
“Okay, okay.” He relents. Donghyuck didn’t mean to tease you- he was trying to savor the moment.
Once his fingers prod your entrance, all is forgiven. It’s overwhelming- how he stimulates your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm. He curls his fingers in just the right way. Your body reacts to him so well- like you’ve known each other for years.
That familiar coil starts to wind in your stomach. You’re close. He knows it, you feel it.
“Want you inside me.” You whimper. He happily obliges to your request. Taking his fingers away from your core- you whine at the loss of contact, even though that’s what you just asked for. Donghyuck takes his fingers up to his mouth and you watch, with lust-filled eyes, him put his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean from your slick.
He moans at the taste. “You taste so sweet, baby. I promise I’ll fuck you with my tongue next time.”
After completing stripping himself, he lifts your leg and bends it, exposing your core. Donghyuck starts to nudge himself inside- the feeling making both of you close your eyes in pleasure.
You could feel him pulsing inside your walls; he no better, barely holding his sanity together.
“You’re so tight babygirl. Fuck.” He grunts.
“Move please, Hyuck.” You whimper. When he does start rocking his hips against yours, you feel euphoric all over again. The rhythm, the angle- he’s hitting all the right spots. His head is buried in your shoulder, willing himself to not come just yet.
But, something about you makes it hard for him to control himself. His movements turn frantic, chasing that high for both of you.
“I’m close.” Your grip on his arm tightens as you’re about to come undone.
“Yeah? Come for me baby.”
He leans down to connect your lips again. It’s with such passion, adding to the stimulation. Overwhelming but welcome nevertheless.
You unravel under him. Donghyuck winces when he feels you come around his cock. He rocks inside you a little more, helping you ride out your high before pulling out and finishing on your stomach. Collapsing next to you, he’s silent for a minute, catching his breath and recollecting himself. You’re doing the same. The perspiration on your skins makes you look like you’re glowing. Some could argue it’s a post-sex glow; Donghyuck argues it’s also from pure happiness.
Not long after you’ve both finished, he starts to get up- the urge to take care of you ever present. You murmur sleepily where your washcloths and pajamas are. Donghyuck is now on a mission.
First, he sneaks into your kitchen for some glasses of water. Then, he stops in your bathroom to prepare a washcloth to clean you up. His final destination is your closet where he finds a soft old t-shirt and new underwear for you to sleep in.
Once he cleans you up, he lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest. You’re so sleepy and far gone, you could think this is a dream. The last thing you feel is Donghyuck’s steady heartbeat before you’re pulled into a deep sleep.
-
It’s sunlight that pulls Donghyuck into consciousness. The light shining through your windows prods his eyes open. Then, he registers a weight on him. You’re sprawled out across him, left leg draped across his body and arm curled on his chest. He relishes in the feeling.
Donghyuck doesn’t know what time it is, if you have plans today, or how you’ll feel when you wake up. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave your warmth.
He doesn’t have to wonder long as he feels you start to stir as well. The way you nuzzle into his shoulder makes him melt.
“Morning.” You murmur, still refusing to open your eyes to the sunlight.
“Hi pretty girl.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Better than ever.” He grins.
“Good.” It’s quiet for a moment. Maybe, you’re feeling brave, or maybe it’s the sleep clouding your brain, you dare to ask, “How long can you stay?”
Forever, Donghyuck thinks.
But, he squeezes your waist instead and offers an answer much less overwhelming, “I have no plans other than you, baby.”
Let’s go steady.
Let's go out
And tell the whole damn world how….
disclaimer: I do not claim anything in this fic happened in reality. This is all fiction and for fun.
currently at work, just finished writing a scene for this cause they haven’t paid me yet and i choose to prioritize what makes me happy 🤓🤓 #girlboss #slay #lockedin
(if you saw me post this on my recs blog no you didn’t….i forgot i got two blogs now)
synopsis: you’ve known zhong chenle since you were five years old. once inseparable childhood best friends, everything between you shattered at eighteen — the moment your arranged marriage became real. to him, you became a symbol of everything he lost: freedom, choice, and a future that no longer belonged to him. by twenty-four, you finally marry as the country’s beloved golden couple. the heirs of zhong cosmetics and yü skincare, bound together by legacy, business, and expectations.
warnings: some scenes are very angsty! chenle is mean! cheating! a near death experience! pregnancy! +18 reader is a virgin and very inexperienced, not your ideal first time, sex is treated as a duty once, chenle is a pussy eaterrr, he cums inside every time, not super detailed but a sex montage featuring the following: slight exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, he bends you over a billiards table, blowjob, riding him in the hot tub, doggy-style, squirting, i hope i didn’t miss any. mentions of: blood
an: i am in my chenle feels! and i’m also procrastinating writing for the donors, the loverboys and ruin the friendship jeno ver right now, so you’re all getting this instead! and liking it! (i hope) please let me know what you think of this one! - with love, c.
⚜️ THE GOLDEN COUPLE ⚜️
“i would like to thank everyone for coming today,” lili zhong, aka chenle’s mother and legally your mother-in-law as of five hours ago, says into the microphone. her voice carries effortlessly across the grand ballroom, smooth and commanding without needing to be loud. the entire venue stills for her, conversations fade, forks lower onto porcelain plates.
there were exactly a thousand guests in attendance tonight. family, friends, business partners, celebrities, investors, socialites, industry executives from every corner of asia, people whose names appear in magazines and headlines and billion-dollar reports. the ballroom itself looked almost unreal – dripping crystals suspended from the ceiling, white roses woven into towering arrangements, soft gold lighting reflecting against polished marble floors. every detail had been curated to perfection. fitting for the wedding of the heirs to two of the most influential beauty empires in the country.
“we have been waiting for this union for years now,” mrs. zhong continues, and somehow every person in the room hangs onto each word she says. she has always had that effect on people.
“my one and only son, chenle…i am very happy and excited as you take on this next chapter,” her eyes land on him briefly, full of pride, “i know you will be extraordinary, as you are in everything you do.”
a wave of soft applause spreads through the room. chenle beside you gives a polite nod, composed as ever.
then her attention shifts entirely to you.
“and of course, my beautiful daughter in law, y/n zhong…,” the warmth in her voice softens you completely. the last name making your heart flutter. you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing it.
“i’ve always wanted you as my real daughter,” she says with a small smile painted in her signature crimson lipstick, “and now i can finally say you are.”
your chest tightens in the best way possible. you smile back before you can even think about it, eyes sparkling beneath the lights as emotion swells quietly inside you. because unlike the cameras and contracts and business articles surrounding this marriage…this part felt real.
lili zhong was someone you had admired long before you ever understood what admiration truly was.
you can remember it as if it was yesterday – being seven years old inside the towering headquarters of zhong cosmetics, your tiny dress shoes squeaking against the floors as you and chenle ran through the halls without a care in the world. the building had felt gigantic back then, less like a corporate empire and more like your personal playground. you remembered hiding beneath reception desks with chenle while assistants searched for the two of you in panic. remembered spinning around in leather office chairs worth more than most people’s rent. remembered sneaking into empty conference rooms just to press random buttons on expensive remotes.
and then lili zhong walked out.
and the entire atmosphere shifted the moment she appeared. not much different from how it is now. employees straightened immediately. conversations stopped mid-sentence. people moved aside for her without being told to. she carried herself with grace and effortless authority, shoulders back, chin lifted slightly, heels clicking sharply against the floor like a metronome everyone unconsciously followed. but what fascinated you most wasn’t the fear or respect she commanded. it was how composed she looked doing it.
you remembered watching from next to chenle as she reapplied her lipstick using the reflection of a glass wall, precise and graceful like second nature. one smooth swipe of red. cap clicked shut. then immediately back to discussing quarterly projections as if perfection came as easily as breathing. prim. proper. poised. she was untouchable. and you had been completely mesmerized.
from that moment on, you’d wanted to become the kind of woman lili zhong was – respected, strong, confident – the type of woman who could walk into a room and have the world rearrange itself around her. and now, standing beneath thousands of glittering lights with the zhong diamond resting heavily on your left ring finger and her son beside you, you suddenly wondered if this was the closest you had ever come to becoming her.
“i wish you both a fruitful marriage,” she says with a subtle wink in your direction, a wave of laughter spreading softly through the ballroom. your face warms instantly because everyone here understands exactly what she means. not just the merger between zhong cosmetics and yü skincare. not just the billions this marriage would bring. not just the headlines already flooding social media tonight.
but heirs too. children with the zhong name. future successors beautiful enough to belong on campaign billboards before they could even walk.
“may it always be filled with prosperity and success,” mrs. zhong continues, lifting her glass slightly, “and may the two of you continue bringing honor to our families and our companies.”
camera flashes explode around the room like lightning. you can already imagine tomorrow’s articles.
THE GOLDEN COUPLE OF BEAUTY
CHINA’S MOST POWERFUL MARRIAGE!
LOVE, LUXURY, AND LEGACY.
“this country has not seen such a beautiful couple before.”
the applause is immediate. a thousand guests rise to the toast without hesitation, crystal glasses lifting beneath the chandelier light. from the stage, the entire ballroom looked dipped in gold.
“to mr. and mrs. zhong.”
“to mr. and mrs. zhong!,” the crowd echos.
you lift your champagne glass with a smile so genuine it almost hurts. because despite everything, despite the pressure and expectations and business contracts hidden beneath layers of silk and diamonds – you were happy. maybe pathetically so.
you have loved zhong chenle for most of your life.
before the magazines started calling him the future of luxury cosmetics. before investors nicknamed the two of you the golden couple. before marriage turned into obligation instead of possibility.
and there was a time, too. a time when chenle used to reach for your hand first. a time where the two of you spent entire afternoons running through corporate buildings while your parents attended meetings. a time where he’d steal your desserts at dinners and complain when other boys talked to you at events. a time where marriage jokes from your families made both of you groan dramatically before dissolving into laughter.
back then, it had felt harmless. like something far away. until you both turned eighteen. when meetings became serious. when contracts replaced teasing. when your families stopped asking and started deciding.
that was when everything changed.
because every time chenle looked at you after that, it was no longer with warmth – it was resentment.
you became the physical reminder of every choice he would never get to make for himself. the life he would never get to live. the love he would never get to experience freely.
somehow, the public never noticed. that was the worst part – chenle was terrifyingly good at pretending. like right now, with one hand resting against the small of your back, he looked every bit like the devoted husband he wanted the media to believe him to be. calm smile. soft gaze. protective touch.
the perfect heir beside his perfect wife.
and the cameras adored him for it – “mr. zhong, look here!” “mr. zhong, one more picture with your wife!” “you two are stunning together!”
his fingers flex lightly against your waist as another round of flashes goes off, and anyone watching would think the gesture is affectionate. loving, even. but you know chenle well enough to recognize performance from sincerity. his hand only ever lingers when people are watching. once they turn away, he lets go like touching you burns.
still, your heart betrays you. every. single. time. because some part of you still remembers the boy before all of this. the boy who used to grin at you with missing front teeth and tell everyone you were his favorite person in the world.
the boy you always pictured on this day.
“i can’t wait for this to be over,” chenle murmurs beside you, barely moving his lips. to everyone else, it probably looked like he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
“perfect!,” someone gushes behind a camera, “they look crazy in love.”
the irony nearly makes you laugh.
chenle turns toward you then, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with such practiced tenderness that several people nearby audibly swoon. you hate how your stomach flips.
he’s beautiful at pretending to love you.
sometimes beautiful enough that you can almost pretend with him.
the reception continues in a blur of diamonds, champagne and endless congratulations. one by one, some of the most influential people in the country approach your table to greet the two of you personally, every gift placed before you looking absurdly expensive.
chenle smiles effortlessly but if someone looked closely enough, they would notice you speaking far more than he was, carrying conversations, thanking guests, asking about their families and businesses with perfectly timed warmth. prim. proper. poised. you had learned from the best. every time chenle’s expression dulled slightly, you stepped in before anyone could question it. when his attention drifted you redirected conversations smoothly. when his smiles became visibly strained, you compensated with your own brightness. and you’re convinced no one notices his lack of sincerity. or maybe they do and simply choose not to acknowledge it. because appearances mattered more than truth in a room like this.
“you two truly are perfect together,” an older woman sighs while admiring the two of you, “just look at how attentive your husband is.”
“he always takes good care of me,” you reply quickly, smile never faltering, the lie sliding off your tongue so naturally it almost scares you. chenle glances at you briefly after that comment. you can’t tell if he’s irritated or grateful. perhaps both.
minutes pass like that. more smiles. more photos. more toasts. more champagne. your cheeks begin aching from smiling so much but you endure it anyway. this was your wedding day. everything is supposed to be perfect. until–
“excuse me,” chenle suddenly says beside you after another round of greetings, “i need to use the restroom.”
you immediately nod before anyone else can react, “of course.”
one of the investors chuckles knowingly, “already escaping from married life, mr. zhong?”
a ripple of laughter follows. chenle gives them a charming grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, “just five minutes. i'll be right back.” he leaves with calm steps, posture still immaculate beneath his suit. you continue smiling after he disappears into the crowd.
five minutes pass. then ten. then twenty. people begin noticing.
“where’s your husband?” someone asks casually.
you let out a soft laugh, “probably being dragged into another business deal somewhere.” they laugh with you easily. and you cover for him again. and again. and again.
by the thirty-minute mark, you can practically feel whispers beginning to bloom around the ballroom like perfume in the air. so you straighten your spine further, lift your chin slightly, and you smile brighter. if chenle was going to disappear from his own wedding reception, then you would make sure no one noticed the crack forming underneath the surface. you continue greeting guests alone, accepting congratulations with elegance polished into your bones.
mrs. zhong watches you from across the ballroom, sharp eyes lingering knowingly on your solitary figure. she says nothing. because she knows her son. how loud his resentment has been years, months, weeks building into this. but she also knows you. and she trusts you’ll be perfectly fine. that’s why she chose you for her son anyway.
chenle finally returns before he hit the forty-minute mark. your eyes find him immediately across the ballroom. his tie is slightly loosened now, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to catch instantly. his expression remains composed. but the second he reaches your side – you smell it. whiskey. strong enough to linger beneath his cologne.
and truthfully? you don’t really mind. chenle was always easier when he drank. looser around the edges. less cold. less careful about keeping distance between the two of you. sometimes…he even looked at you like he used to.
and after disappearing for almost forty minutes, he was going to have to sell this act twice as hard.
“there you are,” you say smoothly as another cluster of guests approaches the two of you. before you can even fully turn toward them, chenle’s hand settles against your waist. firm. far more natural than earlier.
“sorry,” he says quietly near your ear, voice lower now, slightly roughened by alcohol, “got cornered.”
you hum in acknowledgement, not bothering to call him out. he was lying, obviously. but this version of chenle was infinitely more tolerable than the sober one who treated your marriage like a prison sentence.
“mr. and mrs. zhong!” another investor greets excitedly, approaching with his wife beside him, “we were just saying you two look unbelievable together tonight.”
normally, chenle would give a polite smile, a practiced nod, maybe rest his hand on your back for exactly five seconds before pulling away. instead, he pulls you closer.
“thank you,” he says easily, “my wife makes it difficult not to stare.”
your breath nearly catches. it was the first time he’d call you that. his wife. and you hate how much you loved hearing it.
the investor’s wife practically melts on the spot, “oh, he adores you.”
you knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. chenle’s just performing harder now. making up for lost time. and annoyingly enough, he’s very good at it. throughout the next hour, he barely left your side. and you’d be lying if you said it didn't affect you. drunk chenle was dangerously convincing. this version of him looked softer around the edges, dark eyes warmer beneath the ballroom lights. he smiled more. touched you more. occasionally leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed yours naturally instead of mechanically. like right now-
“you’re doing that thing again,” he murmurs quietly, only for you to hear.
“what thing?”
“over-smiling,” his lips twitch faintly, “your cheeks are probably hurting.”
the fact he noticed at all sends something uncomfortable fluttering through your chest.
“i’m fine.”
“mhm,” his pointer finger lightly grazes your cheekbone, soft and careful, “liar.”
your heart stumbles embarrassingly fast. you hate that alcohol makes him kinder. or maybe not kinder. just more honest with his attention.
another camera flash bursts in front of you both. another perfect photo for the headlines tomorrow. you wonder if anyone would still call the two of you the golden couple if they knew chenle only touched you this much after drinking enough whiskey to blur the resentment out of him.
you enjoyed the rest of the wedding reception. or maybe endured was the more accurate word. either way, you played the role of the perfect wife flawlessly. enough to fool an entire ballroom full of billionaires. by the time the reception finally ended, your cheeks ached from smiling and your feet hurt from hours in heels.
still, there was a strange warmth sitting inside your chest because despite everything – you had married the boy you love. even if he no longer loved you back.
⚜️ THE MARRIED LIFE ⚜️
the drive home is quiet. chenle sits beside you, his gaze lost outside the window. he doesn’t look at you once. the alcohol from earlier seems to have worn off already. funny how quickly the warmth disappeared from him too.
eventually, the gates to the mansion slid open. your mansion now. your home for the rest of your life. the estate stood enormous against the night sky, lights glowing warmly throughout the property. it was less of a house and more of a private villa, complete with a fountain in the middle, sprawling gardens, balconies overlooking the endless green landscape, rooms neither of you would probably ever step foot in. beautiful but cold.
the car comes to a stop and before the driver can even fully open the door, chenle steps out first. you follow shortly after, one of the maids helping you with your dress as you stepped inside the mansion. the grand foyer stretches high above both of you, chandelier light reflecting against polished floors.
chenle was already halfway up the left staircase. “night,” he finally says. flat. automatic. not even turning around. like the two of you didn’t just celebrate a once in a lifetime event people dream of.
he disappears down the left wing leading to his bedroom without another word. you stare after him for a moment before quietly turning toward the opposite staircase. right side. your side. your room.
lili zhong had arranged this mansion for the two of you a month before the wedding, insisting that it would help ease the transition. she genuinely believed that if the two of you lived together beforehand, chenle would eventually come around, that proximity would soften him, that he’d remembered the closeness you once had. you remembered how hopeful she sounded while showing you around the estate.
“give him time,” she had told you gently, “chenle’s stubborn, but he’s a good boy.”
you wanted to believe her. you really did. so for a month before the wedding - you tried. you asked him about work. about basketball games you knew he loved. about the restaurants you knew he liked. you sat beside him even when he barely acknowledged you were there. you tried being patient. understanding. gentle. it didn’t work. and in the end, your efforts never mattered anyway. because whether chenle liked it or not, the wedding was always going to happen.
now that it had, the distance between you felt even larger. married yet sleeping in separate bedrooms like strangers forced under the same roof. it’s whatever, really. the mansion had far too many empty rooms anyway.
three months pass like that.
the routine becomes almost mechanical. you wake up separately. leave for work separately. return home separately.
real conversations only happen at the office. meetings. sale projections. marketing campaigns. brand collaborations. like business partners instead of husband and wife. which, you probably should have expected.
at home, chenle barely spares you a glance. he doesn’t sit beside you on the sofa. doesn’t ask about your day. doesn’t linger in rooms you enter. dinners are eaten across opposite ends of a table long enough to seat twenty people comfortably, silence filling the space where conversations should’ve been. sometimes the only sounds are the clink of silverware against plates and the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
and at night, the lights still glow beneath two different bedrooms. you’ve never stepped into his this entire time. and he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the colors of your walls were. sometimes you wonder if he stays awake as long as you do.
one night, you walked into the living room to find him watching basketball. for the first time in weeks, he actually looked alive. completely relaxed against the couch, eyes fixed on the television while quietly reacting under his breath. stephen curry had just made an impossible three-point shot and chenle actually laughed softly, shaking his head with genuine enjoyment lighting his face. you had almost smiled seeing it. because it reminded you of the boy he used to be. then he noticed you standing there and immediately, everything disappeared. his posture straightened. his expression flattened. he watched the rest of the game in complete silence, pretending not to care when curry hit the game winning shot minutes later. pretending he hadn’t been enjoying himself at all before you arrived – that one hurt more than you expected. you realized then that your presence drained the life out of him. he physically could not relax around you anymore.
so eventually – you stopped trying to fill the silence. stopped asking if he wanted dinner together. stopped lingering in shared spaces hoping he might speak first.
if chenle wanted distance that badly, then fine. you would give it to him. even if the loneliness of this massive mansion swallowed you whole because of it.
⚜️ THE OTHER WOMAN ⚜️
you couldn’t help it though. every night, no matter how much you told yourself to stop caring, you still waited for the sound of chenle’s bedroom door shutting. just to make sure he came home.
some nights he came home early, footsteps echoing through the quiet mansion before midnight. other nights, he returned a little later, long after you were supposed to be asleep, the distant sound of his shoes against the floor enough to finally let the tightness in your chest loosen.
he never knew you waited. or maybe he did. either way, neither of you acknowledged it.
but tonight was different.
the grandfather clock in the foyer had already struck two a.m. nearly fifteen minutes ago, the sound heavy and hollow throughout the massive estate.
chenle has never been out this late.
you glance toward the entrance again before lowering your gaze to the untouched cup of chamomile tea in your hands. it had gone cold almost an hour ago, when you first realize how late it was and your husband was nowhere to be heard.
“did chenle say where he was going tonight?” you ask the maid standing nearby.
“no, mrs. zhong,” she answers carefully, “but he did call for the driver around twenty minutes ago, he should be making his way back.”
and it’s ridiculous, really, how your maid knows more about your husband's whereabouts than you do.
“okay,” you nod gently, setting the untouched tea aside, “go ahead and get some rest,” you offer her a smile despite the exhaustion sitting heavily behind your eyes, “i’ll wait up for him.”
“are you sure, mrs. zhong? i could wait instead.”
you wave her off, “it’s a wife’s duty to take care of her husband.”
she smiles politely at your response, “okay mrs. zhong, i’ll be here when you need me.”
“thank you,” you say genuinely.
she bows her head slightly before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with the silence again. the moment she’s gone, your smile fades. slowly, you rise from the sofa and make your way toward the grand staircase. more specifically – the left staircase. chenle’s staircase. the one you never use.
the mansion had been designed almost absurdly symmetrical, splitting the house in two. like the house itself understood the distance between you.
you settle onto the second step quietly, smoothing the fabric of your silk pajama dress beneath you, waiting for him to come home. your eyes drift across the foyer absentmindedly – the massive chandelier overhead, the single round table with the antique vase filled of flowers you didn’t even like, and the wedding portrait hanging near the entrance your mother-in-law gifted. it always made your chest ache a little. you looked so happy in it. chenle looked convincing.
you wonder if this is what arranged marriages are supposed to feel like. waiting around in silence for someone who never notices you waited at all. you lean your head lightly against the staircase railing. maybe he was working late. maybe he was drinking. maybe he didn’t want to come home anymore. the last possibility settles the heaviest.
your mind drifts despite yourself, back toward the beginning. a time when chenle used to text you constantly whenever he went anywhere. texts that were as silly as:
look at this ugly dog i found
watch basketball with me, i have popcorn
and others, that always made you smile and your heart race:
just tried the new restaurant down the street from our favorite tea place. i have to bring you there..it will make you cry tears of joy.
i saw this dumpling plushie and it reminded me of you, so guess who has a new dumpling plushie
let’s go on trip this weekend, just me and you…already got the flight tickets
my mom’s annoying me. come save me. please.
where are you? i’m picking you up
you used to be the first person he looked for in every room. now you barely knew what was going on in that mind of his. a soft laugh escapes you suddenly, quiet and humorless. if the tabloids could see you now, they’ll realize just how easy it is to create fake gold.
another thirty minutes pass when headlights appear through the front windows. your body straightens instantly before you can stop yourself, heartbeat quickening embarrassingly fast.
the front doors open moments later, chenle walking in. his tie hangs loose around his neck, dark hair slightly messy like someone has been running their fingers through it repeatedly. he smells faintly of alcohol, expensive cologne and perfume that definitely wasn’t yours. your stomach drops before you can even process it fully. it’s sweet, floral, feminine – not familiar.
chenle freezes the second he notices you sitting on the staircase. for a brief moment, genuine surprise flashes across his face.
“what are you doing up?” he asks, voice rough and tired.
you force your expression to remain soft, normal, “waiting for you.”
something unreadable flickers in his eyes. guilt. maybe. or irritation. you can never tell with him anymore. whatever it is, it disappears almost instantly.
“go to bed, y/n,” he says with a sigh, already sounding exhausted by the conversation before it even begins. then he walks past you. just like that. and something inside you finally snaps.
there were many things that you could let slide. chenle ignoring you. chenle barely speaking to you unless necessary. chenle looking at you with those cold eyes sharp enough to cut skin open. chenle hating you for a life neither of you truly chose.
but this? coming home way past midnight smelling of alcohol and another woman’s perfume while wearing lipstick marks on his neck like he didn’t even care enough for you to hide them???
a wife could only take so much.
you could only take so much.
before you know it, you’re standing abruptly and following him up the staircase. his staircase. your slippers hit the marble harder with every step as anger burns hotter beneath your skin. he pushes open his bedroom door and you follow him inside immediately, shutting it sharply behind you, the sound echoing through the room.
it’s your first time entering his bedroom in the four months you’ve been married. that realization alone feels pathetic. it’s cleaner than you expected. dark walls. dark sheets. expensive furniture. floor to ceiling windows overlooking the green landscape, similar to yours. it looked less like the room of a married man and more like a luxury bachelor suite. nothing about it felt like there was space for you.
“are you fucking cheating on me?!” you demand, voice coming out harsher than intended, anger cracking through the polished composure you spent years perfecting.
chenle groans immediately, dragging a hand through his hair before kicking his shoes off carelessly, “i don’t want to fucking talk about this right now.”
you ignore him completely, hurt and fury already boiling too violently inside your chest.
“is this why you hate me so much?,” you ask, voice rising, “because you’re already in love with someone else?!”
that catches his attention instantly. his head snaps toward you so fast it almost startles you.
“what?”
you let out a bitter scoff, “oh my god, chenle!,” you gesture toward him angrily, “you have her scent all over you, there’s lipstick all over your neck–i’m not fucking stupid.”
your voice gets louder with every word. so much for grace. so much for being poised. right now you’re just angry. hurt. humiliated.
chenle stares at you for a second before rubbing both hands down his face tiredly, “i’m not fucking in love with someone else,” he mutters.
“then what the fuck is this?!”
silence stretches for half a second.
“i needed to get laid.”
chenle laughs once humorlessly, “if you haven’t noticed,” he says coldly, “i’ve basically been fucking abstinent for four months and i just…needed a release.”
it’s almost sickening how that makes you feel better. your anger doesn’t disappear but the crushing feeling in your chest eases slightly knowing there wasn’t some other woman holding his heart while you sat here playing the perfect wife. it was just sex. not love.
you step closer before you can think better of it. chenle’s brows furrow slightly at the sudden closeness.
“if you need to get your dick wet, you come to my room.”
his expression changes instantly, genuine shock flashing across his face. you continue before he can interrupt.
“no one else’s.”
your chest rises sharply with each breath.
“i’m your wife now, for fuck’s sake.”
chenle just stares at you like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say.
“i don’t care if this marriage was arranged for business,” you snap, “you do not get to cheat on me…again.”
that room falls silent after that. you can practically see the conflict moving behind chenle’s eyes now. because he hates this. all of it. the marriage. the expectations. the loss of freedom. but you can also tell he didn’t expect this reaction from you. didn’t expect you to claim your place beside him so bluntly.
“besides,” you add bitterly, “we need to have a child eventually, as our parents love to remind me,” your laugh comes out hollow, “you’d be doing me a fucking service.”
irritation flickers in chenle’s face immediately. but you don’t stay long enough to examine it. you turn sharply and walk out before he can say anything else, your heartbeat pounding violently in your ears as you cross to your side of the mansion.
⚜️ THE BEST FRIENDS ⚜️
the two of you never talk about that night again. it got buried beneath the same routine. work meetings. silent dinners. passing each other in hallways without speaking. but something had changed after that. because you opened a door that night. and whether or not chenle chose to knock was entirely up to him.
it takes another month before he finally does.
chenle can’t believe he’s actually considering this. he stands in his bedroom, staring at the half empty whiskey glass in his hand. this was insane. he was about to walk into your room and what? sleep with his wife? his best friend? except he’s not even sure that title still belongs to the two of you anymore.
best friends didn’t look at each other the way he looks at you now – like you were both the wound and the knife that caused it. best friends didn’t spend five months barely speaking despite living under the same roof. best friends definitely didn’t resent each other enough to split a mansion into separate lives.
chenle exhales sharply before taking another shot. not enough to get drunk, just enough for that liquid courage to settle into his bones, silencing the voice in his head that told him this was wrong and allowing himself to knock on your door.
he knows this is so hard to do because of him. he knows he’s been irrational. resenting you for decisions neither of you truly got to make. taking every ounce of frustration and grief and anger about his life and placing it onto your shoulders because it was easier to have someone to blame than to accept that this is his reality.
and yet despite all of that – the only thing you had ever truly asked of him during this marriage was to not cheat on you…again. you could’ve demanded affection. attention. a real marriage. instead, you simply looked him in the eye and told him to come to you first. that memory hasn’t left his head since.
another sigh escapes him before he sets the empty glass down and finally walks out of his room. the hallway separating your bedroom feels strangely longer tonight. every step making him question himself again. this was a terrible idea. he should turn around. go back to his room. pretend this impulse never happened. but fuck, he needs to get laid…right now.
the knock startles you instantly. you glance up from your bed in confusion. it’s almost midnight. no one ever knocks this late and the maids only enter when called. for a second, you wonder if something’s wrong.
slowly, you slip off the bed and walk toward the door, your silk, short pajama dress flowing around you. and there he is – standing in the hallway looking strangely tense beneath the dim lights.
for a moment, neither of you speaks. then chenle says flatly–
“i want to have sex.”
simple. direct. like he’s discussing a business proposal instead of standing outside his wife’s bedroom at midnight. your chest tightens painfully because somehow, even after everything, a part of you still hoped he’d come here for another reason. that maybe he missed you. maybe he couldn’t sleep either. maybe tonight, after months of silence, he finally wanted to talk to you like he used to.
but of course not. he wasn’t your chenle anymore. and this was your marriage - transactional. carefully detached. emotionally hollow.
“okay,” you answer softly after a second, stepping aside to let him in.
chenle walks past you quietly, eyes scanning your room almost curiously. unlike his bedroom, yours actually looked live in. warmer lighting. books scattered across tables. skincare and makeup products lining the vanity. blankets thrown carelessly across the couch near the windows – and trinkets, gifts, specifically from him – scattered around different parts of the room.
the dumpling plushie he got you when you were fifteen all because it reminded him of you.
the vintage camera on your shelf he bought behind your back when you were sixteen because you had mentioned once, only once, that you loved taking pictures because it made moments feel permanent. he remembers showing up the next day with your dream camera like it was nothing. “don’t say i never support your hobbies,” he teased.
even those damn crybaby figurines he bought you when you were seventeen were lined carefully beside your bookshelf. every single one from the collection you obsessed over years ago. you had a frown on your face over not getting the rare one from a blind box once and chenle spent nearly two weeks secretly hunting every figurine down until your collection was complete. you used to tell him he was insane for it. he used to think seeing you happy made the effort worth it.
suddenly the room feels suffocating. because there are pieces of him everywhere in here. small reminders scattered throughout your life of proof that before everything fell apart – chenle used to love you loudly. maybe not romantically. maybe not in the way you wanted. but enough to memorize the smallest things about you. enough to notice every passing comment and quietly turn it into something real.
chenle rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before finally looking at you fully and for the first time in months – he doesn’t look angry when he does. if anything, he looks shaken. then he clears his throat.
“we don’t have to make this…” he pauses, brows furrowing slightly, “more than what it is.”
“okay,” the answer leaves your mouth too quickly. too easily. like you’ve already accepted that this was how it was always going to be.
he nods, leading the way as he reaches for the buttons of his pajama shirt. you look away the second the fabric slips from his shoulder, the room suddenly feeling warmer. chenle drops his shirt onto the chair near your vanity while you remain frozen beside the bed, fingers nervously toying the hem of your pajama dress.
neither of you knows how to start this. that becomes painfully obvious almost immediately. there’s no romance here to guide the moment. no affection softening the edges. just tension and awkwardness.
finally, because if you stand there any longer, you think your heart might actually burst through your ribs, you reach beneath the fabric of your dress. with shaky fingers, you hook the elastic of your underwear and slide them down your legs, stepping out of them and leaving it on the floor. you keep the pajama dress on through, the thin material clinging to your curves.
the room goes still. chenle's eyes lift instinctively toward you, tracing the silhouette of your body before darting away almost immediately. and somehow that reaction hurts more than if he’d stared openly. because this feels like restraint. like guilt. like he is forcing himself not to want you.
you climb onto the bed quietly, trying desperately to appear calmer than you feel.
“you can turn the lights off if you want,” you murmur softly.
and maybe that was better. maybe if he couldn’t see you, he could pretend you were just another one of his one night stands. maybe the darkness would erase the history between you, leaving only the physical need. darkness settles over the room instantly, softened only by the lights outside filtering through the windows.
chenle approaches the bed slowly afterward, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he climbs in beside you, leaving enough distance between your bodies. neither of you speaks. there’s nothing comforting to say. just the sound of breathing filling the dark room.
then, he finally reaches for you. his hand settling against your waist, his palm warm against the thin fabric of your dress. he pulls you toward him and your breath catches immediately. and it’s sad, really, that despite the coldness, despite the hate, you’ve wanted this for years. you want him so badly it feels like a physical ache in your chest.
you close your eyes as he shifts closer, the last fragile layer of distance between you finally disappearing. he doesn’t lift the dress, simply just bunching the fabric up around your waist, exposing your hips and thighs to the cool air. he doesn’t kiss you. he doesn’t whisper your name. he simply positions himself, his cock hard and pressing against your entrance…and he thrusts in.
“fuck,” chenle groans under his breath, his hand gripping your waist harder instinctively, digging his fingers into your skin, “you’re so fucking tight.”
your breath catches painfully at the stretch, a sharp, searing pressure tearing through your center as your body struggles to accommodate the sudden intrusion. your fingers unconsciously claw into his biceps, gripping the hard muscle as a gasp of genuine pain escapes your lips. it hurts – more than you expected it to. there was no slow build up to soften any of this. no tender words whispered against your skin to ease the transition. this wasn’t lovemaking.
for chenle, this is only a physical release, a way to drown out the noise of his own sadness and the crushing weight of his expectations. for you, it was simply duty. the possibility of giving both families the heir everyone expected from the moment your engagement was announced. just two emotionally exhausted people trying to fulfill a role they’d been pushed into years ago.
chenle notices your pain immediately. you know he does because his movements stall, his body freezing inside you for a beat. in the dim light, you see his brows furrow, a flicker of something – hesitation, perhaps, or a ghost of the boy he used to be – crossing his features. he gives you a moment to adjust, his chest heaving against yours, but. neither of you say anything.
what would even be the point? there are no sweet words to be exchanged here. no declarations of love. only uneven breathing filling the dark room and the occasional strained sound slipping from both of you despite yourselves.
chenle keeps his eyes fixed downward, jaw tense like he’s trying not to think too hard about any of this. about you. about the way you feel wrapped around him. about what this act actually means for the two of you.
your fingers loosen from his arm eventually, your grip shifting to the silk sheets beneath you, bunching the fabric in your fists as the initial, blinding ache slowly dulls into a manageable throb. but as the physical pain recedes, a different kind of agony takes its place – one that is far more suffocating, your mind cruelly reminding you that this is the boy who used to hold your hand while crossing the street to make sure you were safe. the boy who bought you random gifts because they reminded him of you. the boy you had loved with a purity that now felt like a joke. and now, here you are, beneath him in a silence so heavy it felt suffocating.
he doesn’t try to make it last. he doesn’t try to find your pleasure or bridge the emotional divide between you. he simply drives into you with a mechanical, rhythmic intensity, his movements devoid of affection.
he lasted six minutes before it was finally over.
chenle curses softly under his breath as he paints your walls white. his forehead drops briefly near your shoulder, breathing unevenly before finally stilling completely. the room falls quiet almost immediately afterward except for both of your breathing.
then, chenle carefully pulls away. he begins to shift back but freezes mid-motion, his eyes dropping toward the sheets beneath you, the air in the room vanishing – small, vivid spots of red stain the white sheets.
“shit,” he breathes, his entire expression changing instantly. the detachment he had maintained through the act vanishes, replaced by a sharp, jagged edge of alarm, “are you okay?”
the concern in his voice catches you off guard more than anything else. real, genuine concern that you haven’t heard from him in years. the same boy who used to worry if you’d scraped your knee.
still trying to steady your breathing, you blink at him tiredly, “what?”
“you bled,” he says immediately, eyes darting back toward the sheets before the realization visibly crashes into him. his face tightens, jaw locking as the implication sinks in.
“fuck, y/n…,” he exhales sharply, “are you a virgin?”
you stare at him for a long second, the silence stretching between you. you feel empty, raw and utterly exhausted. you shrug lightly, “well,” you mutter dryly, “as of a couple minutes ago, i no longer am.”
chenle looks at you like you’ve just punched him in the chest. there’s disbelief there. guilt. and worst of all – pity. you hate it instantly. you aren’t a porcelain doll. you are the owner of an empire and you had walked into this encounter with your eyes wide open.
“don’t look at me like that,” you scoff, reaching for your blanket and pulling it over you, “it’s not a big deal, chenle. it was gonna happen one way or another.”
he lets out a frustrated sound immediately, dragging both hands through his hair, “why do you keep saying that?!,” he snaps suddenly.
you blink, startled at the sharpness in his tone, the sudden eruption of emotion, “because it’s true.”
“no, it’s not,” his brows pull together harder, frustration and disbelief bleeding into his voice, “and this is a big deal. i just took your virginity.”
“and?!” you shoot back instantly, emotions finally cracking open.
“it was always yours to take!”
silence. thick. heavy enough to suffocate the entire room. chenle stills completely. the lights spilling through the windows cast shadows across his face, but you can still see the shock there clearly. he looks haunted, as if you’ve just revealed a truth he wasn’t prepared to handle.
“what?” he asks quietly.
“unlike you,” you say bitterly, your chest rising sharply, “i never thought marrying my best friend was something so repulsive.”
the words hit hard enough that chenle just stares at you. stunned. because he genuinely cannot understand it.
when he found out about the arrangement years ago, it felt like his entire life stopped belonging to him. suddenly every conversation had contracts hidden beneath it, every family dinner felt staged, every interaction between the two of you became another reminder that his future had already been decided before he even got a say. he panicked. rebelled. slept with girl after girl trying to desperately prove to himself he still had freedom. he still belonged to himself. still had choices before marriage locked him into a life he never asked for.
but you – you just accepted it.
you didn’t run. you didn’t scream. you didn’t burn the world down to get away.
he remembers sitting in those meetings, hating every single second of it and every single time he looked at you – you were just sitting quietly beside him. calm. composed. nodding along politely whenever someone addressed you. you never argued. never pushed back. never looked angry enough.
and chenle convinced himself that meant you didn’t care. that maybe this really was just business to you, too. he resented you for it. resented the way you accepted everything so easily while he felt like he was suffocating. resented the way you let your parents decide both of your lives without fighting harder beside him. resented how fake everything started feeling after that. like your friendship had never really belonged to the two of you. like it had been another transaction always meant to happen.
just like tonight.
just like this bed. this room. your first time.
the reality settles sickeningly into his chest. because despite all his anger, despite all the resentment he carried for years – this should have been special. not because virginity itself mattered to him. but because you did. somewhere beneath the layers of bitterness, the boy who loved you was still there, and he realizes with a jolt of horror that he is the one to turn this moment into something cold. another deal to complete. another box to check.
for the first time in months, chenle genuinely feels ashamed standing in front of you.
you slide beneath the blankets completely, turning away from him. your voice goes cold again. controlled. composed. your expression slowly shutting down. piece by piece. the same way it always does whenever he hurts you. it’s a practiced defense, a wall built from years of his indifference.
“i’ll have the maid clean the sheets tomorrow.”
chenle opens his mouth slightly. then closes it again. because there’s nothing he can say that fixes this. nothing that gives you back the moment he just ruined. he cannot un-take your innocence.
“if you’re done here,” you murmur quietly, “you should just go.”
the guilt eats him alive, gnawing at his insides as he stares at your curled-up form. yet, chenle walks out anyway.
⚜️ THE MOTHER IN LAW ⚜️
you get your period two weeks later and it annoys you far more than it should. the second you see the faint streak of red, disappointment settles heavily into your chest before you can stop it. pathetic. you actually let yourself hope that one night would be enough. that somehow, despite how cold and emotionally disastrous it had been, it might’ve at least resulted in something tangible. something that would finally make this marriage feel like it’s moving forward instead of rotting quietly in place. something that would finally make this mansion feel like a house.
you’re afraid of the possibility it won’t happen again. not after the way things have been recently.
it’s gotten worse between you and chenle. at least before, when he looked at you, there was fire there. albeit, not the good kind…but fire, nonetheless.
now, it was just stone cold. and every now and then – guilt. it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. and every single time you notice it, sorrow settles deeper inside your chest. guilt isn’t love. you don’t want him feeling sorry for you. you want – no. you force yourself to stop that thought before it finishes.
wanting things from chenle only ever leads to disappointment.
“y/n, dear, how are you and chenle?” mama li’s voice breaks through your thoughts. she’s sitting elegantly across from you in the living room, posture perfect even in something as simple as afternoon tea. sunlight pours through the massive windows behind her, catching the gold resting against her fingers as she lifts her teacup gracefully.
she’s beautiful in the same terrifying way chenle is. composed. sharp. impossible to fully read. sometimes looking at her hurts because all you can see is him.
she asked the question gently. but there’s always command hidden beneath her voice, years of power woven naturally into every word she speaks.
“uhm,” you hesitate, “i don’t know, mama li,” the nickname leaves your lips naturally. it always has, “i don’t think we’ll ever go back to the way we used to.”
for a moment, genuine sadness flickers across her face. she exhales softly before offering you a small smile, “just give it time,” she says gently, “you know he’s always loved you.”
your chest tightens painfully. it’s what everyone says. your parents. his parents. family friends. employees who watched the two of you grow up together. everyone insists chenle loved you once. maybe still does. but lately, you’re not so sure anymore. maybe everyone simply misunderstood him all these years. maybe being comfortable around someone your entire childhood wasn’t the same thing as loving them.
after all – chenle himself has never actually said it. not once.
mama li studies your expression carefully before continuing, “chenle has always been difficult with his emotions,” she says with a quiet sigh, “but that boy would follow you around everywhere when you were younger. you were the only person who could calm him down whenever he got upset.”
you force out a faint smile, “that was a long time ago.”
“feelings don’t disappear that easily,” she replies smoothly.
you wish you believed that. instead, you take another sip of tea to avoid answering.
“even so, my dear,” her eyes linger meaningfully on you, “i hope you’re not forgetting your duties.”
there it is. the real reason behind this conversation. behind her visit.
children. heirs. you suddenly feel exhausted. you don’t know what to say. you’ve only slept with chenle once. and considering the fact you got your period this morning, you’re very aware you are not pregnant. still, you can’t exactly tell his mother that her son barely touches you. so instead, you straighten your posture slightly and force your voice to remain calm.
“we’re trying.”
mama li’s expression brightens immediately, genuine excitement sparkles in her eyes, “well, that’s wonderful news,” she says warmly, “we have to continue our legacies after all,” she adds with a soft smile, lifting her teacup once more.
legacy. sometimes you wonder if anyone in this family actually understands how lonely that word feels.
⚜️ THE DRUNK WIFE’S PINKY PROMISE ⚜️
it’s been a month since mama li’s visit. and half a year since you and chenle got married. he hasn’t touched you once since that night. not even accidentally. no lingering touches while passing each other in hallways. no brushing shoulders. no quiet midnight knocks at your bedroom door. absolutely…nothing.
and lately, the restlessness sitting inside you has started turning into panic. because six months into marriage and you still weren’t even close to being pregnant. your parents ask constantly. mama li asks so often that your stomach knots every single time. even the public has started wondering. the media hasn’t said anything outright yet, but you’ve seen the headlines.
WHEN WILL THE GOLDEN COUPLE ANNOUNCE THEIR FIRST HEIR?
A BOY OR A GIRL? IT SHOULD BE ANY DAY NOW.
and worst of all — people at work were starting to notice things too. the whispers had gotten louder these past few weeks:
why do you never arrive together? why do you leave separately? why do the two of you never eat lunch together despite literally being married? were you both simply that professional??? or did you secretly hate each other???
the stress had been eating at you slowly. you feel like you’re being watched even more so than usual.
so tonight, for the first time in months, you finally leave the mansion for something other than work. with your best friend - yizhou ning-qian. if anyone understood arranged marriages, it was her. except for the obvious difference that her husband, kun qian, absolutely adored her. even with their seven year age gap, they worked. somehow effortlessly. which honestly made your own marriage feel even sadder by comparison.
“have you tried initiating it?,” yizhou asks casually, sipping her tequila.
the two of you were tucked away inside one of the private rooms at a high-end bar where membership alone cost more than most people’s yearly salaries. dim lights glowed against velvet seating while soft jazz echoed faintly beyond the closed doors.
you stare at her, “yizhou,” you say flatly, “i can’t even get close enough to try.”
she snorts immediately, the sound sharp and mocking of the situation.
“every time i walk into a room,” you continue, “he leaves. immediately.”
"man,” she sighs, shaking her head, “chenle seriously needs to grow the fuck up.” you can’t even disagree. “this was always going to be our lives,” she continues, taking a quick sip of her drink, “and honestly? it’s not even that bad.”
another tequila shot arrives at the table. she pushes it toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye.
”i mean,” she giggles, “we’re literally billionaires! it can’t get better than this.”
you burst into laughter with her despite yourself, the alcohol finally beginning to warm your chest pleasantly.
“exactly!,” you groan dramatically after downing the shot in one go, “all we have to do is marry someone else rich and pretty yet chenle thinks the world has ended.”
yizhou nearly chokes, laughing, “god, he’s just been too spoiled.”
the two of you dissolve into another fit of giggles. and if it was any other person, you’d feel awful for trash talking your husband. but she was your best friend, one of your safe spaces. and it feels good to laugh. you haven’t done that in a while.
yizhou wipes beneath her eyes dramatically before leaning back against the couch, “if anything,” she says, still grinning, “you guys are the luckiest out of all of us.”
your smile falters, “and why’s that?”
”you married someone you already know…someone you already love.”
the words silence the laughter instantly. the love you carry for chenle is a heavy, aching thing – a devotion that has survived his coldness and his resentment. but love is a two-way street. and chenle has shown it loud and clear that he didn’t share those same feelings for you.
“he doesn’t love me, yizhou,” you say quietly.
for a second, she just stares at you. then suddenly, she bursts into even louder laughter. ”yeah,” she says sarcastically between giggles, “and my husband is fucking poor!”
you shove her shoulder weakly while laughing. considering kun was literally one of the ten wealthiest men in the country, the statement sounds ridiculous.
her expression softens after laughing, “y/n,” she says more seriously now, “that boy has loved you since before we even knew what love was.”
“you don’t know that,” you whisper, chest tightening painfully as you shake your head immediately.
“oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “everyone knows that.”
you sigh into your drink. you wish people would stop saying that. it just lets the hope linger longer. just reminds you of the boy he used to be. just makes the man he has become feel more like a tragedy.
”seriously,” she continues, leaning forward now, “he just needs to wake up from whatever self-pity hole he dug for himself.”
you stare down at the amber liquid in your glass quietly.
“i mean, come on, he has to know that it could be worse,” she adds.
“how could it be worse than this?”
”jaemin’s literally arranged to marry someone he actually hates,” she points out, “and even he isn’t acting as childish as chenle,” she reaches for your hand then, intertwining her fingers through yours.
“it’s not your fault, y/n.”
your throat tightens at her comfort, the alcohol heightening the vulnerability of your emotions.
“and sooner or later,” she says softly, "chene's going to realize that too. he’s going to realize that while he was busy hating the arrangement, he was losing the only person who actually gives a damn about him.”
you drank a lot more than you should’ve. at first, it was just to loosen up. but somewhere between the expensive tequila, the soft jazz playing in the private room and yizhou’s ridiculous stories, the warmth spreading through your body started feeling addictive. every shot made things quieter. lighter. your thoughts blurred around the edges. your chest stopped hurting so much whenever chenle crossed your mind. for the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about the empty side of your dinner table or the way your husband avoided looking at you like eye contact physically pained him.
you were just laughing. drinking. existing. and maybe that’s why you didn’t realize how much time had passed until yizhou was shoving your purse into your hands while laughing at your completely incoherent attempt to put your heels back on.
by the time your driver finally pulls into the mansion’s driveway, it’s nearly three in the morning. the second the car door opens, cold air hits your face and you instantly regret every decision you made tonight.
“mmm,” you groan softly while stepping out drunkily, “why is the ground moving?” you complain.
“the ground is not moving, mrs. zhong,” your maid says gently while helping steady you. you squint suspiciously at the marble steps leading toward the front door. you manage to stumble inside the mansion without face-planting into the floor. barely. if it wasn’t for your maid’s help, you’d be on the ground.
“its uh–kay,” you mumble as your maid carefully tries helping you remove your coat, “mmm okay, i can take care of myself. i’m a professional. i’m a…ceo of being okay!”
you absolutely are not. your words are slurring into a thick, honey-like mess and you nearly take out a priceless vase with your shoulder before you finally collapse onto the bottom step of the right staircase.
upstairs, chenle hears your voice immediately. he had been awake. waiting. though he’d never admit that out loud. usually, when he came home from work, your bedroom light would still be visible through the tiny crack beneath your door.
tonight, it had been dark.
and when he checked downstairs earlier under the excuse of getting water, you hadn’t been in the living room either. and for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely, it unsettled him. so tonight, he intentionally left his bedroom door slightly cracked open. just enough to hear when you returned home.
and now here you were. sounding very, very drunk.
chenle exhales sharply before stepping out into the hallway. he makes his way downstairs quietly only to stop midway down the staircase at the sight in front of him. you’re sitting on the bottom step of your staircase now with your head slumped against the railing while your maid looks one second away from panicking.
“i said i’m okayyyy,” you groan.
“sir zhong,” the maid says immediately in relief the second she notices him.
your head snaps upward clumsily at her voice, eyes unfocused as you follow her gaze. chenle stands halfway down the staircase dressed in dark sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hair looking unbelievably soft. he looks unfairly handsome for three in the morning – a devastatingly beautiful statue carved from ice and moonlight.
“mrs. zhong is drunk,” the maid explains carefully.
“i’m not drunk,” you counter immediately. then your body sways sideways slightly and she catches your shoulder before you topple over completely.
she turns back toward chenle helplessly, “i’m trying to help her up the stairs, sir. she might hurt herself without guidance.”
chenle’s jaw tightens slightly. then he nods once. “i’ll take care of it, you may go.”
she bows politely before quickly disappearing down the hallway, leaving the two of you alone. silence settles briefly. chenle walks down the remaining stairs slowly before stopping in front of you.
“you drink now?” he asks flatly, clearly not amused.
you squint up at him from the floor, “wow,” you mumble, a small, crooked smile playing on your lips, “judgmental much? mr. perfect.”
stubbornly, you attempt standing on your own. terrible decision. the second you rise, the world spins 360 degrees. chenle reacts immediately, one arm hooking firmly around your waist and hauling you flush against his chest. the contact is electric. it’s the first time in months he's touched you with any kind of intent, and the sudden heat of his body against yours makes your breath hitch. he is solid, warm, smelling of expensive soap and something uniquely him.
you blink up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach out, poking his chest weakly with a finger, “you’re not the only one,” you whisper, your voice losing its playful edge and becoming raw, “who wants to forget.”
the words come out quieter than intended. more honest too. you’re too drunk to notice the way his face softens for half a second. deep down, he’s always known it. he just never wanted to acknowledge it – the fact that you were hurting, too.
he reaches forward, his hand cupping your face and squishing your cheeks together, forcing your lips into a pout. his brows furrow, gaze scanning your flushed face, “you know you’re not good with alcohol.”
you sway weakly at his wrist with a dramatic scoff, “psh, whatever.”
then you wriggle yourself fee from his hold before turning toward the staircase again, “i’m a big girl now,” you mumble stubbornly as you begin walking upwards, “i can do it.”
chenle hums behind you, not convinced in the slightest. you make it about five steps before the world starts tilting unpleasantly again. he was right. you were never good with alcohol. your head feels heavy. your feet hurt from the heels you still haven’t taken off and suddenly the stairs look impossibly long and all you want to do is fall asleep right here.
with a defeated sigh, you finally turn around. and only then do you realize how close chenle actually is. he’s standing just two steps below you. close enough that if you slipped backward even slightly, he’d catch you instantly. it softens you immediately. the way he still followed you. your expression crumbles into something smaller, softer.
“lele,” you mumble quietly, the nickname naturally slipping from your lips. you haven’t called him that in years. not since everything between you became sharp and complicated.
chenle visibly freezes. the air in the stairway seems to solidify, trapping him in the space between who he is now and who he used to be.
your lower lip juts out slightly as you blink at him tiredly, “i need help,” you admit finally, your voice small and stripped of all its corporate armor.
his heart stops. he swears the world stops moving. because you sound exactly like her. not the polished corporate heiress version of you who sits through board meetings with perfect posture and calculated smiles. not the wife who carefully measures every word around him now.
you sound like the girl he used to know. the one who used to cling onto his arm after getting tired at amusement parks. the one who cried dramatically over a barely scraped knee and demanded he carry her because “best friends are supposed to help each other.” the one who looked at him as if he were the only source of light in a dark world.
you sounded like the girl he loves.
before business meetings hollowed everything out between you. before his own resentment poisoned every room you shared.
chenle exhales slowly through his nose, a shaky breath that rattles in his chest. he sighs, and for the first time in years, the sound isn't one of annoyance, but of defeat.
“come on, you big baby,” he mutters.
the tease slips out so effortlessly it surprises both of you, a sudden echo of a decade ago. your eyes widen slightly, he hasn’t sounded like that with you in a very long time. before you can even respond, chenle bends slightly and hooks an arm beneath your knees. you let out a tiny squeak as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. instinctively, your hands grab onto his shoulder, settling against his chest automatically as he starts carrying you up the stairs properly this time. his warmth surrounds you immediately, steady and safe, your alcohol fogged brain melting into it without resistance.
chenle tries very hard not to think about how natural this still feels. how your body still fits against his as if they were two pieces of a puzzle designed by a higher power. he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, a subconscious grip that mirrors the way you used to hold onto him when you were children. years ago, this would’ve been normal. he used to carry you all the time. after you fall asleep in the car rides home. after twisting your ankle once trying to impress him at basketball. after you threw a dramatic tantrum at sixteen because your heels hurt during some charity gala. back then, touching you was easy. now it feels dangerous.
he pushes your bedroom door open with his shoulders before walking inside. carefully, he lowers you onto the mattress. but the second he starts pulling away, your hands grab onto him tighter.
“not yet,” you mumble immediately, tugging him downward with surprising strength until he half falls onto the bed beside you. your arms wrap around him instinctively, face burying against his chest, holding him close.
chenle freezes for half a second. then exhales slowly. because fuck. he missed this. he missed you. not the tense silence between board meetings. not the careful distance. not the version of you that flinches emotionally every time he looks at you now. but this – warm and soft and clinging onto him like he was still your safest place in the world.
your hugs always used to calm him down faster than anything else. even now, after everything, his body relaxes embarrassingly quick the moment your arms tighten around him. he lets himself stay there for a little while. just a little. his hand settles carefully against your back as your breathing slowly evens out.
eventually, he pulls back enough to look at you properly, brushing your hair away from your face gently, his fingers lingering slightly longer than necessary.
“why’d you drink so much anyway?” he asks softly.
and maybe it’s the alcohol. maybe it’s the exhaustion. or maybe you simply miss your best friend too much to keep pretending you don’t. because suddenly, you start talking to him like he’s still that person.
“my husband won’t touch me,” you mumble sadly.
the words hit him directly in the chest. especially because you say it like your husband and the man currently holding you are two entirely different people. his eyes widen slightly, heat creeping into his face almost instantly and he’s almost grateful you’re drunk enough not to notice.
“and everyone keeps asking me about children, lele…” your voice grows smaller, “it’s just–it’s too much,” you pout slightly afterward, eyes glossy and tired.
chenle’s guilt continues to grow. he knows all of the pressure has been landing on you. his mother stopped bringing children up around him months ago. your parents tread carefully too. everyone gives him space, shows him more grace. he think’s it’s because everyone is afraid that if they push him too hard, it will make him snap completely. make him finally leave. no one realizes he never actually could. not when the thought of a world where he wasn’t with you, even in this broken, tragic way, felt more impossible than the marriage itself.
“do you even want a child?” he ask quietly, not sure why he keeps this conversation going. maybe because this is the most honest the two of you have been with each other in years.
you shift, turning on your side to find a more comfortable position, and in the process, you instinctively seize his hand again. without a second thought, you tug his arm around your waist, pulling him flush against you until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. the position nearly wrecks him. because this used to be normal too. movie nights. sleepovers. lazy afternoons tangled together on couches while studying. you always used to curl into him naturally like he was home. and he used to hate having to leave, always wanting more time with you.
“it wouldn’t be that bad to have one,” you admit softly, your fingers playing absentmindedly with his, tracing the lines of his palm, “i mean…we have all the money in the world.”
chenle huffs quietly through his nose, a small, dry sound. it always comes back to that, doesn't it? the money. the wealth. the legacy. the gold-plated chains that bind you together.
“we could have twenty and still have plenty left over,” you add with a sleepy, whimsical giggle.
that actually almost makes him laugh. the image of the two of you with twenty children running around this mansion sounds absolutely insane. he can barely handle one drunk wife right now. still, his chest feels strangely warm hearing you talk like this – domestic, hopeful, almost dreaming. it stirs something in him that he thought he had buried under layers of corporate coldness.
chenle doesn’t even know if he wants children. at least, not like this. not because families and investors expect it. not because it’s another duty to fill.
suddenly, you shift again, turning in his arms to face him fully. your movements are slow, languid, you lift your hand, fingers grazing his jawline with a touch so light it’s almost a hallucination. you caress him carefully, your eyes searching his with a heartbreaking intensity.
“give me a baby, lele,” you whisper.
his entire body stills. every muscle locks. he knows its the alcohol talking.
but, fuck.
the way you’re looking at him right now could ruin him. chenle would give you anything. money. houses. companies. his entire fucking life if you asked for it. just – not like this. not when it would feel like another transaction instead of something real.
his hand slides carefully into your hair instead, “why do you want a baby so badly?” he asks quietly, voice strained.
you shrug faintly. then your expression softens into something heartbreakingly vulnerable.
“i just don’t want to be so lonely anymore.”
his heart breaks instantly. completely. it’s his fault. he is the one who built the walls. he is the one who turned this house into a gilded cage.
“so…” you mumble sleepily, eyes barely open now, “will you give me one?”
hope flickers across your pretty face so softly it nearly kills him.
he swallows hard, “not right now, y/n,” he says gently. your expression falls immediately and the guilt twists violently inside him again. so he adds.. quietly…“maybe someday.”
your eyes lift toward him again slowly. then, you raise your pinky between the two of you.
“you promise?”
chenle stares at it and suddenly he’s thirteen again. you don’t link pinkies the way others do. you once declared that it “felt fake” and that crossing fingers didn’t feel lucky enough for important things. so, the two of you had invented your own ritual. your own secret language of loyalty.
carefully, with a tenderness that makes his chest ache, chenle takes your hand and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the very tip of your pinky finger.
“i promise.”
your sleepy face brightens instantly. you grab his hand and softly kiss the tip of his pinky too.
a promise sealed. except this promise wasn’t as simple as the ones before.
eventually, your body relaxes fully against his chest while his fingers continue stroking slowly through your hair until you fall asleep in his arms. chenle stays there longer than he should, watching you sleep peacefully against him, finally not hurting for a little while. once he’s sure you’re completely asleep, he carefully slips out of bed. but before leaving, he gently pulls your heels from your feet one by one. then he places a glass of water and two pieces of tylenol on your nightstand. the same way he used to after parties years ago. for a while, chenle just stands there staring at you. then quietly, he turns the lights off and finally lets the night end.
⚜️ THE DEATH GUMMY ⚜️
another month passes. and things were starting to shift subtly. you’re not entirely sure what happened that night you got drunk. honestly, most of it is blurry fragments in your memory – warm arms, soft whispers, the feeling of safety you hadn’t felt around chenle in years.
whatever happened though, it softened chenle a little. just a tiny bit.
he still doesn’t initiate a conversation unless absolutely necessary. still keeps most of his thoughts locked tightly behind careful expression. still retreats into himself more often that not. but he doesn’t leave rooms as soon as you enter anymore. and slowly, he starts joining you for dinner again. you ate silently, still on opposite ends of the table but at least he was there now.
then, one night, you found him in the living room watching an episode of f.r.i.e.n.d.s. normally, you would’ve turned around to avoid making him uncomfortable. instead, chenle glanced at you briefly, eyes soft, not leaving, not telling you to go away either. so, cautiously, you sat on the opposite end. the two of you watched an entire episode, occasionally laughing at the same jokes. at one point your laughter overlapped and both of you went awkwardly still afterward. but even that tiny moment felt precious. more than you could ask for.
maybe everyone was right. maybe chenle simply needed time.
today, the two of you are at yü skincare headquarters. a product development meeting. one of the company’s biggest launches planned for next year. your team had spent nearly eleven months developing a new type of vitamin e supplement. and because you took your work seriously, you always insisted on testing products yourself. if consumers were putting your products into their bodies, then so would you.
the testing room buzzes quietly with concentration. there are only five people here today – you, chenle, your assistant, mark lee – head of the vitamin research development team, and another researcher seated nearby typing notes rapidly into a laptop.
mark steps forward excitedly, holding the newest batch carefully, “today is mainly flavor testing,” he explains, “we finally stabilized the texture, so now we just need to ensure the taste is actually enjoyable for the mass market.” he places one small green chewable into your palm. then another into chenle’s, “we infused it with natural fruit extracts to eliminate the vitamin aftertaste.”
you nodded absentmindedly, your mind already drifting toward the logistics of the rollout. you trusted mark implicitly – he was one of the best in the industry.
without a second thought, you and chenle both placed the gummies into your mouths.
and that’s when everything goes wrong.
your throat locks almost instantly. your eyes widen violently. for half a second, you think you might have swallowed wrong. but then your airway starts closing. fast.
you can’t breathe.
in a blind surge of terror, you slapped your hand hard against chenle’s arm, the sound sharp in the quiet room. his head snapped toward you, and every ounce of color drained from his face. he watched, in horror, as you began to turn a terrifying shade of red, your mouth opening desperately, gasping for air that wouldn't come. your eyes were wide, filled with a raw, primal terror.
chenle reacted before anyone else could even process what was happening. he lunged forward, gripping your shoulders with a strength that nearly knocked you back, facing you fully.
“Y/N?!” his voice was tight, laced with immediate alarm.
your lips parted, but no sound emerged – only a wet, wheezing struggle. you clawed at your own throat, your nails digging into your skin in a desperate attempt to open the airway.
a wave of pure, unadulterated terror hits chenle, his eyes darting around the room frantically, searching for the cause, mind racing through every possibility.
“what the fuck happened?!," he roared, voice echoing off the sterile walls.
the room froze. everyone stood paralyzed, their faces masks of confusion and sudden fear. no one answered. no one has answers. the silence was suffocating, broken only by the horrific, whistling sound of your struggle to breathe. chenle’s gaze snapped to the tray of green gummies. he pieced it together then.
“we’re there kiwis in these?!” chenle demands sharply.
mark blinked, nodding quickly, his voice trembling, “uh–yes, sir. we infused it with concentrated kiwi juice because it–”
“SHE’S ALLERGIC!,” chenle’s voice cracks through the room so loudly everyone jumps.
you were deathly allergic to kiwi. not mildly allergic. not uncomfortable. deathly. a single slice of the fruit in a room could make your throat itch, a concentrated extract delivered directly into your system was a death sentence.
his breathing turns uneven instantly as fear floods his system. you’re not coughing anymore. you’re struggling. really struggling. your body starts slumping sideways in your chair and chenle catches you immediately before you hit the floor.
“hey–hey, stay with me!” his voice shakes.
for the first time in years, he completely loses his composure in front of other people. he was no longer the cold heir, he was a terrified boy watching the only person he truly loved slip away.
“her bag,” he barked, the command slashing through the chaos, “someone get me her fucking bag now.”
your assistant rushes forward immediately, handing your bag over. another employee is already yelling for medics outside the room. everything becomes chaotic around him. but chenle barely hears any of it. all he can focus on is you. the violent red of the reaction was fading into a ghostly, terrifying pallor. your lips were tinged with a bruised blue, and your head kept dipping weakly, your consciousness flickering like a dying candle. your hand, resting against his suit jacket, felt colder with every passing second. for one horrifying, timeless moment, he genuinely believed you were dying.
“look at me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent and wrecked. he gripped your face, his fingers trembling against your cheeks, trying to force your unfocused eyes to lock onto his. “y/n, look at me! stay with me!”
your eyelids fluttered, your pupils blown and hazy. you could see him – the panic in his eyes, the sheer, unadulterated terror – but you couldn't reach him. you were drowning on dry land.
“fuck—!” he let out a choked sound, his hands shaking violently as he dove into your bag. he tossed aside your wallet, your phone, a lipstick, his movements frantic and clumsy, “where is it–where the fuck is it–”
then finally – the epipen. you always carried it for emergencies.
relief crashed through him so hard it was almost physical, a wave of adrenaline that surged through his veins. he didn't hesitate. he didn't even remove your clothing, he slammed the injector hard against your outer thigh, the needle piercing through the fabric of your trousers with a sharp, clinical click.
“stay with me,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, “please, please stay with me.”
the seconds that followed were an eternity of agonizing silence. chenle held his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs, watching your face for any sign of life. then it happened – you let out a sudden, violent gasp, a broken, desperate inhale that sounded like a sob. it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. oxygen flooded back into your lungs, and the sudden rush of air brought a torrent of tears that spilled from your eyes, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.
chenle exhales shakily like he forgot how to breathe too, his forehead nearly dropping against yours from relief, his eyes closing tight.
“that’s it,” he whispers frantically, his voice a breathless wreck, “that’s it, baby, breathe.”
he doesn’t even realize what he called you. he only cared that your hand, though weak and trembling, was curling around his fingers, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth. chenle grips tighter immediately, as if letting go would allow the death that had just brushed past you to return and take you away.
his breathing is uneven. his eyes are glossy. everyone in the room is staring now because they’ve never seen zhong chenle like this before.
but chenle doesn’t care about appearances anymore. not when he thought he was about to lose you forever.
⚜️ THE ONLY CHOICE HE’S EVER MADE ⚜️
chenle never visits you in the hospital.
the first day, mama li told you he was busy dealing with the fallout at work, there were investigations happening now, meetings with legal teams and a very furious chenle. the second day, you waited. by the third day, you stopped expecting him entirely.
your private hospital suite overlooks the city skyline, expensive and pristine in the way only billionaires could experience. fresh flowers arrive every morning from companies and family friends. assistants rotate in shifts outside your door. nurses practically hover around you like you’re made of glass. everyone treats you like you almost died. which, to be fair, you technically almost did. still, you feel fine now. a little tired maybe. but alive.
your father is currently standing near the windows watering the ridiculous amount of plants someone sent earlier when the question finally slips out of you quietly.
“has chenle come by?”
he pauses mid-motion before looking over his shoulder at you. then slowly, he shakes his head, “sorry, sweetheart.”
you look down at the blanket pooled over your lap, “you were right, dad,” you admit softly, your voice sounding hollow in the vast room.
his brows furrow, “i’m right about a lot of things…but what is this one about?”
you force out a weak laugh, “maybe it would’ve been easier to marry someone i didn’t love.”
that makes him stop completely. he places the watering can onto the nearby table before he walks toward your bed. your father has never been particularly good with emotions. he showed love through stability, protection and business lessons disguised as life advice. still, he takes the seat beside your bed quietly.
“sweetheart,” he says carefully, “there are positives and negatives in every situation. and sometimes…the choices we make can hurt more than we expected them to—but you already made your decision,” he sighs softly, “and just like every good business deal, you have to commit to it fully.”
you almost smile. trust your father to turn emotional comfort into a corporate lesson.
“trust your instincts,” he adds quieter this time, his hand patting yours awkwardly. it’s probably the closest thing to emotional reassurance he knows how to give. it helps a little.
“thanks, dad,” you murmur.
he nods once before leaning down to kiss the top of your head gently, “get some rest.”
then he leaves you alone again. the second the door shuts, the loneliness creeps back in. because despite his words – the only person you actually wanted to see was chenle.
unbeknownst to you, chenle visits every single night.
always after midnight. always once he’s certain you’re asleep. he slips into your hospital room quietly, dressed in dark clothes and exhaustion. the first night, he genuinely thought you looked dead. too still. too pale. fear hit him so hard he crossed the room immediately just to place a trembling hand near your face and make sure you were still breathing. only after feeling your warm breath against his skin did he finally relax. after that, it became routine. every night he checks your breathing first. sometimes, he sits beside your bed for hours in complete silence, staring at you while guilt slowly eats him alive from the inside out.
because you could’ve died.
and worse–
you could’ve died believing he hates you.
chenle doesn’t think he would’ve survived losing you. that realization was a cold, jagged blade, cutting through the carefully constructed armor he had worn for years. it terrified him more than anything else. for years, he convinced himself the opposite, that you were the reason he felt trapped, the reason his life no longer belonged entirely to him. the reason everything started feeling planned and suffocating. but the second your breathing stopped sounding normal – none of that mattered anymore. all he remembered feeling was pure, violent fear.
the memory keeps replaying in his head every night no matter how hard he tries to shut it out. your hand grabbing his arm desperately, your face turning red, the sound of you struggling for air, the way your fingers slowly weakened in his grasp, the horrifying weight of your body slumping against him and worst of all – how cold he felt. like someone had dumped ice water directly into his chest.
he hates that it took a near-death experience to shatter his delusions. he hates that he had been so blind. fear like that doesn't stem from obligation. you don’t unravel, you don’t scream into the void, and you don’t beg a person to breathe if all they ever were to you was a responsibility — he hates how almost losing you made him realize that everything he felt for you had always been real. not planned. not arranged. not a script written by two powerful families to ensure a monopoly on the cosmetic industry.
because long before contracts existed. before business meetings and inheritance talks and engagement announcements – chenle loved you.
he loved you when you were thirteen, sealing promises with kissed pinkies. he still remembers the first time you came up with it. the two of you had been sitting on the rooftop terrace of your parent’s vacation house, legs dangling over the edge while sharing melted popsicles in the middle of summer. “crossing fingers feels fake,” you complained dramatically after he broke a promise to watch a movie with you the week before, “people break pinky promises all the time.” he laughed, “so what? we sign contracts now?” you rolled your eyes before grabbing his hand. then, with complete seriousness, you pressed a tiny kiss against the tip of his pinky finger. “there,” you said proudly, “now it’s permanent.” after that, every important promise between the two of you was sealed that way. he never broke a single one.
he loved you at fifteen when you attended every single one of his basketball games with his number painted proudly across your cheeks in bright blue despite both your parents immediately scolding you for putting “cheap toxic paint” on your skin. you didn’t care though, you sat front row, screaming, “that’s my lele!,” every time he scored. he used to pretend to act embarrassed in front of his teammates while secretly searching for you in the crowd every few minutes just to make sure you were still there. you always were. and after the games, you’d rush toward him, still wearing his jersey, eyes sparkling. no victory ever felt as good as seeing you proud of him.
he loved you at sixteen when your vintage camera became permanently filled with blurry pictures of him. half the photos were terrible – his face cut off, him mid-yawn, him glaring because you kept shoving the camera into his face while he was trying to eat. but mixed between those were softer ones too like him asleep in the car with his head tilted towards you, him laughing with his head thrown back, pictures of the two of you together. he once asked why you took so many pictures of him and you shrugged like it was obvious, “because you’re my favorite person.” he thinks maybe that was the first time his heart ever genuinely stuttered inside his chest.
he loved you when you were seventeen, in a moment so sudden it had nearly knocked the wind out of him. he remembered the weight of the shopping bags in his hands, the handles digging into his palms, and the sheer, unfiltered joy radiating from you. you had spent weeks in a state of mourning over your crybaby figurine collection, devastated after failing to pull the secret rares. you hadn’t asked him for help – you never did – but chenle had watched your disappointment from the sidelines, and it had felt like a physical weight in his own chest. he spent nights contacting resellers behind your back until he found every missing figurine himself. when he finally handed you the completed set, the expression on your face had been blinding. you had looked at him as if he were the center of the universe. without a second thought, you reached up, grabbed his face in your small hands, and pressed a fervent, lingering kiss to his cheek. “i love you the most!” you squealed, your voice high and breathless with excitement. chenle remembered the way the blood had rushed to his face, a heat so intense it felt like a fever, while you remained blissfully oblivious, already turning back to admire your figurines. in that moment, he had realized that your affection was a drug, and he was already hopelessly addicted.
and deep, deep down, he knows he loved you at twenty-four. especially on the day you became his wife. the moment those heavy doors opened and you stepped inside wearing that white dress you spent months carefully choosing – he forgot how to breathe. everything around him blurred instantly. time slowed to a crawl, yet he felt his entire future rushing toward him at the same time. all he could see was you. the slight tremble in your hands, the way your eyes shimmered with a mixture of hope and fear, and the way you looked at him as if he were still your favorite person in the world, despite everything. you looked beautiful. not in the polished, public way magazines later described. not like “the perfect heiress.” you looked devastatingly you. and chenle wanted so badly to reach for you, pull you close, wanted this marriage to be real in every way that actually mattered. when the officiant gave the command to kiss the bride, his chest ached with a sudden, sharp grief. it felt cruel that this – a choreographed moment in front of a thousand witnesses – was your first kiss together. he remembers leaning down slowly, your lashes fluttering, lips soft and warm and gentle against his. and for a second, chenle forgot there were a thousand people surrounding you both. forgot cameras existed. forgot he was angry. kissing you felt terrifyingly natural, like a missing piece of his soul finally clicking into place, a homecoming he should have claimed years ago.
but the truth was, he had loved you long before he even had a word for it. back when the two of you were six years old and accidentally broke expensive glass tubes inside one of the zhong cosmetics labs while playing tag in the rooms. assistants had panicked instantly, someone yelled, another employee nearly cried seeing the shattered equipment all over the floor. you got scared immediately, eyes filling with tears as adults crowded around the two of you. and without even thinking, chenle stepped in front of you protectively, “it was my fault,” he lied. he remembered the feeling of your watery gaze on the back of his head while he stood there, taking the brunt of the scolding from every adult on the floor. he hadn't cared. the only thing that mattered was that you weren't crying anymore. later that evening, you had secretly slipped half of your dessert onto his plate, whispering that “heroes deserve rewards.”
everything else in his life had been a predetermined path. the schools, the internships, the board meetings, the carefully curated image of a successor. his life had been a series of checkboxes marked by people who didn't care about his heart.
but all those moments – the pinky swears, the blue paint on your cheeks, the secret figurines, the shared dessert – those belonged entirely to him. entirely to the two of you.
loving you was the only choice he ever truly made on his own.
it had happened naturally, quietly, and without permission. he had built this love in the secret spaces of his heart, and in his desperate, panicked attempt to protect his freedom, he had almost destroyed the only thing that had ever actually set him free.
he hasn’t forgiven himself for any of it yet. not for avoiding you all these years. not for making you lonely inside your own marriage. not for turning your first time into something cold and painful. not for the way your face looked when you admitted you just didn’t want to be lonely anymore. and definitely not for freezing in that meeting for even half a second before realizing what was happening.
which is exactly why he can’t face you while you were awake right now. he physically can’t. because the second you look him with those eyes of yours, he’s terrified he’ll completely break apart in front of you. he imagined himself sobbing at your bedside, begging for a forgiveness he didn't believe he deserved.
and everyone keeps reminding him stress is bad for your recovery. the irony was a bitter pill to swallow. chenle knew he was the primary source of stress in your life. so, he remained a shadow, visiting only in the dead of night, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. it was pathetic. it was cowardly. but it was the only way he knew how to love you without hurting you further.
by the third day, your regular hospital meals suddenly disappear. instead, trays arrive with your favorite comfort foods – steaming siomai, all types of dumplings, wonton noodles – all warm and prepared exactly the way you like them. you can’t hide your smile when you see them because there is only one person in the world who knows your comfort order by memory, a relic of a childhood where he used to sneak you treats when you were sad. you stared at the tray fondly. chenle might not have visited you, but this feels like proof he still cares anyway.
and by the fifth day, you’re completely over it. everyone is being ridiculously dramatic. you feel so energized already. bored out of your mind. still, every doctor insists your body needs more recovery time after the severity of the reaction. your parents refuse to let you leave early and the only person who actually has the authority to pull you out, your husband, isn’t taking that risk either.
you end up staying in the hospital for two more days before finally coming home.
⚜️ THE AIR ⚜️
when chenle got home that afternoon, he’s exhausted. the past week had destroyed him more than he let anyone sees. he barely slept. barely ate. and every single time his phone rang unexpectedly, panic seized his chest before he could stop it.
he loosens his tie tiredly as he walks through the mansion doors, mentally preparing himself to go to the hospital to pick you up. but as he walks into the kitchen — he freezes.
you’re standing there, alive and healthy, wearing one of your silk pajama sets while leaning casually against the island, sipping water and scrolling through your phone like nothing happened.
for a second, he thinks he’s imagining you. you weren’t supposed to be released for another three hours. then again, you were stubborn enough to convince almost anyone to do what you wanted eventually. no one ever really knew how to tell you no when you looked at them with that specific, determined glint in your eyes.
“you’re home.”
the sound of his voice quickly diverts your attention from all the emails you were catching up on to him. you glance up and in his eyes – you see the difference. the armor he usually wore wasn't just cracked – it was gone. his eyes were wide, vulnerable, and shimmering with a relief so profound it looked like pain. slowly, you place your phone down on the counter, smiling at him gently.
“i’m home.”
for the first time all week, he remembered how to breathe again. like he had given you all of his air and it’s now finally being returned to his own lungs.
the briefcase he was carrying hit one of the glass tables with a loud, jarring crash. he didn't care. he didn't even look at it. he crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between you and collided with you, pulling you into his arms so suddenly and with such force that the air left your lungs in a small gasp.
chenle hugs you tightly. desperately. like he needs physical proof you’re still here. still warm. still breathing.
your eyes widen in shock, breath hitching against his shoulder. then, slowly, you let your guard down and wrap your arms around him, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of his heart against your ear.
“i thought i was gonna lose you.”
his voice cracked, the sound raw and jagged against your hair. the confession was stripped of all pride, all resentment, and all the distance he had spent years cultivating. the fear was completely exposed, leaving him naked before you.
you pulled back just enough to look at him, though you stayed in his arms. the sight of him broke your heart. there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin looked sallow from lack of sleep. and then, a single tear escaped, tracing a slow path down his cheek.
you froze. in all the years you had known him – from the boy who chased you through the labs to the man who ignored you across the dinner table – you had never seen chenle cry. not once.
with tenderness, you lifted your hand and brushed the tear away, your fingertips lingering on his skin, impossibly soft.
“zhong chenle,” you murmur softly, voice trembling with a mixture of ache and affection, “you really think you can get rid of me that easily?”
his eyes close briefly at your touch like your fingers can undo the pain inside him. he doesn’t answer, doesn’t joke, doesn’t hide behind sarcasm or distance or that cold indifference he perfected over the years. instead, chenle just pulls you back into his arms again, holding you tighter this time. and for the first time in years, you let yourself lean into him fully.
eventually though, reality settles back between the two of you. chenle slowly loosens his hold first. the second he realizes how tightly he’s been clinging to you, his expression shifts immediately. he clears his throat quickly and takes a half step back like distance might help him regain control again.
“i’m glad you’re okay,” he says quietly, guarded again.
before you can even process the moment properly — he leaves. just walks out of the kitchen entirely, leaving you standing there alone trying to understand what the hell just happened.
none of that made sense.
chenle has spent the last six years hating you. yet, for a few minutes, he had held you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. you stare at the doorway long after he disappeared through it. confused. hopeful. terrified. you didn't want to read too much into a moment of panic-induced weakness, but the ghost of his heartbeat was still echoing in your ears.
until your phone buzzes nonstop, dragging you back to reality, life continuing on like your world hadn’t just tilted.
⚜️ THE MISTAKE THAT ALMOST TOOK YOU FROM ME ⚜️
the next day you’re back at the office like nothing happened. your heels click softly against the marble flooring of yü skincare as staff members greet you nervously on your way toward your office.
you settle into your executive chair with a quiet sigh, immediately scanning through the pile of reports waiting for you. the vitamin incident had already become a nightmare with legal teams involved, quality control investigations and public relations teams working overtime to keep information contained.
you press the intercom button lightly, “send mark lee in.”
less than a minute later, the heavy door to your office swung open to huang renjun, human resource manager. his posture was stiff, his expression carefully neutral, yet there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes that immediately set off alarm bells.
your brows furrowed as you continued flipping through a document, “where’s mark?” you asked, your voice cool and professional, “i need the updated reports on the supplement.”
renjun coughs awkwardly, the sound immediately making you look up, something about his expression feeling off, “ma’am…” he hesitates, “he’s no longer with the company.”
your hand stills completely against the papers, “…what?”
“he’s been terminated.”
“i didn’t receive a resignation letter, nor did i authorize a termination,” you pointed out calmly, though your eyes narrowed, “explain.”
renjun uncomfortably shifts beneath your gaze, “sir chenle fired him.” you stare at him for a moment, trying very hard to not let your surprise show too obviously. renjun clears his throat again, “he actually fired everyone involved in the vitamin project.”
your mind raced. chenle was many things – arrogant, distant, and emotionally stunted. but he was never impulsive when it comes to business. he was a strategist who weighed every risk. for him to wipe out an entire department without a single consultation, without even a courtesy to call you, meant he had completely lost his composure.
you force your expression neutral anyway, “i see. you may go, renjun.”
renjun bows quickly before practically escaping your office. the second the door shuts, you lean back into your chair slowly. you should be angry. technically, you are. chenle had overstepped every professional boundary, sabotaging your chain of command and stripping you of your most experienced researchers. but beneath the irritation, a treacherous warmth bloomed in your chest. for the first time in six years, chenle had been emotional. he had been protective. he had burned down a project just because it had dared to hurt you. it was a violent, impulsive gesture of care, wrapped in the guise of corporate cruelty.
that night, you leave your office long after most employees have already gone home. the building is quieter now. the endless clicking of keyboards and ringing phones reduced to distant murmur somewhere far below. through the massive windows lining your floor, the city glows beneath the dark sky, millions of lights flickering like stars against the glass.
you wrap your blazer tighter around yourself before stepping out into the hallway. your heels echo sharply against the tiles as you make your way toward the glass bridge connecting yü skincare headquarters to zhong cosmetics tower beside it.
the bridge had always fascinated everyone. two billion dollar companies physically connected in the middle of the skyline. a symbol of merger. of power. of the marriage between you and chenle. you used to love walking through it. now it just feels symbolic in the cruelest way possible — close enough to see each other yet still separated by glass.
you knew these buildings like the back of your hand. every hallway. every hidden office. ever late-night corner where you and chenle used to sit as teenagers avoiding meetings your parents forced you into. the memories follow you all the way across the bridge tonight.
by the time you reach the executive floor of zhong cosmetics, the receptionist has already gone home. only chenle’s personal assistant remains seated outside his office. the man immediately stands and bows politely the second he sees you.
“mrs. zhong.”
you nodded once, your gaze fixed on the closed doors. “is he busy?”
his assistant hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing at the clock. “yes, ma’am, but… you may go in.”
you don’t bother knocking, simply pushing the doors open and walking inside. his office is dim except for the warm lighting near his desk and the city lights pouring through the windows behind him. chenle sits in his massive leather chair, sleeves rolled up slightly while scanning through documents with quiet concentration. he doesn’t look up immediately, probably assuming it’s just his assistant.
“you fired mark lee?” your voice cuts cleanly through the room, chenle’s attention snapping upward instantly. for a fleeting second, relief flickers across his face, like part of him still instinctively checks whether you’re okay every time he sees you now. then the expression disappears again, turning into something neutral.
“who’s that?”
you exhale slowly through your nose, already irritated, “chenle,” you say flatly, “mark lee. head of the vitamin research team.”
understanding clicks across his face immediately, but it isn’t accompanied by apology.
“ahh,” he leans back slightly in his chair, “yes. that guy. how could i forget.”
the dismissiveness in his voice immediately annoys you further as you walk deeper into his office, “you cannot fire my people without consulting me first.”
chenle finally sets the file in his hands down, “your people are my people,” he says coolly, “that’s the whole point of this marriage.”
you ignore the sting in that statement – the reminder that in his eyes, you are just another asset to be merged.
“i want him back on the team.”
his jaw tightens almost instantly, “no. y/n.”
the answer comes too quickly. too firmly.
you stop dead in front of his desk now, arms crossing, refusing to back down, “chenle,” you say, your voice carefully modulated, fighting to keep the anger out, “mark lee has been employee of the month for seven consecutive years. he’s one of the best researchers in the industry. he’s valuable to this company and firing him is a strategic mistake.”
"valuable people don’t almost kill my wife."
the room goes still. your heartbeat stumbles slightly at the sharpness in his voice, at the way he says my wife. the possessiveness of it nearly undoes you, but your frustration and stubbornness is stronger.
“for fuck’s sake, chenle,” you snap, the poise you’ve spent years perfecting finally cracking, ”it was an accident!”
his expression hardens immediately, “an accident?”
"yes, an accident!," you throw your hands up, “he didn’t even know i was allergic to kiwis!”
which was true. almost nobody did. allergies were weaknesses and weaknesses were dangerous in industries like yours. information could be weaponized to easily. chenle knew that better than anyone.
suddenly, he stands, furious enough that his chair rolls backward sharply against the floor. his palms slam loudly on his desk, a sound that cracks through the office.
“an accident that almost took you from me!”
his voice hits the room heavily — raw, furious, terrified — completely unraveled in a way you’ve never heard before. you stare at him across the desk, chest tightening painfully before anger rushes back to protect you from the hope that can completely blind you.
“oh please,” you scoff bitterly, rolling your eyes, “i bet you’d be jumping up and down if i actually died. it would have been the perfect exit strategy for you wouldn’t it? no more obligations, no more arranged marriage.”
the second the words leave your mouth, the atmosphere changes completely. the heat of his anger vanishes, replaced by a cold, suffocating stillness. chenle freezes, his eyes locking onto yours, hurt plastered all over his face.
“what?” he whispers.
your own emotions spill over immediately afterward. because you’re angry too. and hurt. and most of all, confused. you don’t know what he wants anymore. he needed space, you gave him space. you offer him a physical relationship that benefits him, he barely even touched you. and now – now he’s acting like he cares.
“you’ve spent the last six years making it very clear that you hate me,” you say, refusing to let your voice shake, “you’ve avoided me, ignored me and treated me like a burden. so don’t suddenly start playing the caring husband because i almost died. don’t pretend you have a heart now just because you’re scared of the paperwork a death certificate would cause.”
his expression breaks even more. the anger is gone, replaced by a look of such profound devastation that it almost feels like a crime to feel the way you do.
“i don’t hate you.”
and he sounds painfully, devastatingly honest.
you stare at him from across the desk, your heart beating so loudly it almost drowns out the silence filling the office. chenle doesn’t look away from you. the room feels too small now. too full of things neither of you know how to say.
“you don’t get to say that now,” you whisper finally, your voice cracking, “not after all these years.”
he looks down sharply, jaw tightening hard enough for you to see the muscle twitch. then he laughs once, a miserable, dry laugh.
“i know.” the words come out rough. he drags a hand over his face like he’s trying to pull himself back together. it doesn’t work. “i know,” he repeats weaker this time, sounding small and hollow.
you watch him carefully now, even more confused. zhong chenle never falls apart. not publicly. not privately. not ever. he is the gold standard of control – composed, untouchable, a man carved from ice and expectation. yet, standing before you, he looks like he’s seconds away from total collapse.
your anger starts cracking around the edges as you look at the boy in front of you. you were always weak when it came to him. if there were a list of your weaknesses, he’d be right there, on top of that damned fruit.
“chenle…”
he suddenly shakes his head. he physically can’t let you comfort him right now.
“do you know what i thought when you stopped breathing?”
the question hangs in tha air as you hold your breath.
“i thought,” he exhales shakily, “i thought the last thing you were ever going to believe…was that i hated you.”
he finally looks at you again then, completely wrecked, his eyes bloodshot and swimming with a grief that has been simmering for years.
“and i couldn’t fucking breathe,” he admits quietly, his voice trembling, “because all i could think was that you were going to leave me believing i didn’t love you.”
the world feels like it stops spinning. love. he said love. not care. not obligation. love. your lips part slightly but no sound comes out. chenle laughs bitterly again before shaking his head.
“you’re right. i spent years blaming you for everything because it was easier than admitting i was scared,” he confesses, his gaze searching yours, “scared that none of my choices were mine anymore. that my entire life was a script written by our parents,” he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, “but loving you…that was the only choice that was actually mine.”
that brings tears to your eyes instantly. chenle looks at you helplessly now. he doesn’t know what to do with all the emotions spilling out of him anymore.
“and i ruined us anyway.”
he moves then, walking around the desk quickly, finally removing the barrier that always sat between the two of you. you think he’s going to stop in front of you.
instead – he drops to his knees.
“what are you–”
before you can even process the gesture, his arms wrap tightly around your waist, forehead pressing against your stomach and finally — he breaks completely. you feel the shuddering breath leave him in a great, racking sob, his grip tightening almost painfully around you, tears slipping down his cheeks.
“i’m sorry.”
the words come out cracked. wrecked. nothing like the polished man the world knows.
“i’m so fucking sorry.”
you cover your mouth with your hand, stifling a sob of your own, even though you could already taste the salt from your own tears. this is the same boy who never apologizes unless forced to. the man who would rather bleed out than let people see weakness. and here he is, kneeling at your feet, clinging onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him together.
“i’m sorry for all of it,” he gasps, his voice breaking, “for hurting you, for making you feel lonely, for making you believe i hated you when i—,” his voice breaks completely.
slowly, tentatively, you thread your fingers through his hair. the moment your touch meets him, chenle exhales a shaky, broken sound against your stomach, his entire body shuddering. even a small gesture of comfort from you is enough to undo him.
“stop that,” you whisper, voice trembling.
your heart is breaking for him, for the boy who spent years pretending to be a monster so he wouldn't have to admit he was a prisoner. you can't stand to see him like this – on his knees, apologizing as if he is something broken and discarded at your feet, rather than the person you’ve loved for all of your life.
you gently tug at his hair, coaxing him to look up. when he finally does, his eyes are swimming with tears, his expression completely defenseless. in this moment, everything else feels distant and irrelevant. there is only one overwhelming realization pouring through your chest:
chenle loves you.
the boy you spent years mourning while standing right beside him this entire time still loves you. your heart feels too full for your body. before you can overthink it, before the fear and doubts can return, you slide your hands down to his face, pulling him upward carefully.
“get up,” you murmur through your own shaky tears. chenle obeys immediately, still staring at you like he’s afraid this moment isn’t real. your hand slides slowly against his cheeks, wiping his tears away before settling on his jaw.
“you really love me?”
the question is a fragile thing, barely a whisper, floating between you like glass that could shatter at the slightest breeze. you sound disbelieving, your voice trembling with the weight of six years of silence and cold shoulders.
chenle’s expression dissolves. the hardness in his eyes, the armor he’s worn since he was eighteen, it all melts into something so painfully tender it nearly wrecks you.
“i always have,” he confesses.
that’s the final blow. the last shred of distance, the last wall of resentment.
you kiss him first.
but chenle returns it immediately, kissing you back like he’s been starving for it, years of tension snapping instantly. his hands come up to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, enough to pull a gasp from you while your fingers tangle tightly into his hair.
this kiss feels nothing like your wedding day. it’s not polite. not careful.
it’s desperate. it’s the sound of two people drowning and finally finding air. all the years you spent silently loving each other crashing together at once. he kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every moment he wasted. every cold shoulder. every lonely dinner. every time he walked away instead of reaching for you.
your back bumps lightly against the edge of his desk. he breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second, his forehead pressing against yours, both of you panting, breaths mingling in the charged air.
“fuck,” he whispers against your lips, his voice a wrecked, needy rasp, “i missed you so fucking much.”
the words makes your head spin. you don't let him breathe, pulling him back down, your mouth seeking his with a hunger that matches his own. his grip on your waist tightens, and in one fluid, powerful motion, he lifts you effortlessly, hoisting you onto the desk. papers scatter, sliding across the desk and fluttering to the floor. he doesn't give a damn about the reports. the only thing that matters is the heat of you.
you wrap your legs around his waist automatically, pulling him into you as he steps between your knees. he crashes his lips back onto yours, his tongue sweeping through your mouth with a possessive urgency. this isn't just lust, it’s an exorcism. he is purging years of loneliness, and you are drinking him in, fingers clutching his hair, pulling him closer as if you could merge your very souls.
“do you know-,” he groans, his voice sounding almost angry at himself, his mouth moving to the sensitive skin of your jaw, “-how long i've wanted to do this properly?”
“stop talking then,” you tease, your voice breathy and laced with desire. you reach down, hooking your fingers into his belt loop, tugging hard, dragging his hips flush against your center.
chenle lets out a grunt as he grinds his cock firmly into your clothed core, the friction sending a jolt of pure electricity through both of you. he freezes, a shudder racking his entire frame, his breath coming in jagged hitches.
“wait... wait, baby,” he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he forces himself to pull back just an inch.
“what’s wrong?”
“i really, really want to do this,” he rasps, “but...not here.”
you laugh softly and it almost undoes him. almost makes him take back what he just said. with a tiny smile on your lips, you nod, “okay.”
then you glance around the wreckage of his desk, your smile turning into something playful, “do you need help finishing up those reports first, then?”
“are you crazy?” he asks, though his tone is fond. he doesn't let go of you, his hands sliding down to squeeze your hips one last time before he helps you down.
“we’re going home...right now.”
the ride home is a blur of friction and heat. for the first time in your marriage, you don't sit in separate cars. you spend the entire journey tangled together in the backseat, the partition slid up to shield you from the driver’s view. you can’t stop kissing him. you can’t stop laughing into him, feeling the giddy, overwhelming rush of being loved back.
chenle is just as relentless, his mouth roaming all over your exposed skin, leaving a trail of dark, possessive marks that claim you as his. every time you try to catch your breath, he finds a new spot to kiss, his hands roaming your curves.
the air in the car is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and arousal, the silence of the ride punctuated only by the sound of wet kisses and the shaky, happy sighs of two people who have finally come home.
⚜️ THE MASTER BEDROOM ⚜️
as you step through the front door, chenle is practically jumping beside you, a boyish grin plastered on his face. he looks at you with a hunger that is now subdued by an overwhelming sweetness.
“race you to the top!,” he shouts.
before you can even process the challenge, he’s already bolting up the left staircase, his laughter echoing through the foyer.
“lele! this isn’t fair! i’m in heels!” you squeal, your voice sounding lighter than it has in years. you run up the right staircase anyway, feeling like a kid again – the version of you that loved him without fear, and the version of him that followed you everywhere.
by the time you reach the top, breathless and flushed, he’s already there, leaning against the railing with a smug, sparkling expression.
“that was not nice, you should’ve given me a head start!,” you complain, crossing your arms and pouting, a childish expression you haven’t dared to show him in a lifetime. he chuckles then, stepping forward, his presence enveloping you as he pulls you back into his arms.
his finger lifts your chin to tilt you face up to his, “and what does the winner get?,” he asks, eyes dancing with a mix of mischief and adoration.
you lean back slightly, a playful, daring glint in your eyes, “hmm…you get to choose.”
he quirks a brow, gaze dropping to your lips, “choose what?”
“my room or yours?” you say with a smile that looks innocent but tastes like a provocation.
a slow grin spreads across his face, “how about ours?”
“ours?” confusion flickers across your features.
without a word, he takes your hand and begins leading you. he doesn't turn toward the left wing or the right…instead, he guides you toward the central hallway – the one you’ve spent months ignoring. it was the dead zone of the house, a place too painful to acknowledge because it represented the void in your marriage. the hallway that leads straight to the master bedroom.
as you walk, he slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight back hug, pulling your back flush against his chest. he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his breath hot and steady as he pushes open the two grand double doors.
you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. the room is breathtaking. grand and dipped in gold.
“wow,” you whisper, stepping inside, “i haven’t been in here since your mom gave me the tour…i thought it would’ve collected cobwebs by now.”
“it did,” he whispers against your ear, his voice thick with a sudden, piercing apology, “i had the maids clean while you were in the hospital. i wanted it to be perfect for when we finally came home together.”
you turn in his arms, looking up at him. a small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips., “maybe i should’ve eaten that kiwi a lot earlier.”
chenle’s grip on your sides tightens, his expression shifting into one of genuine panic, “don’t joke about that, baby. please.”
you giggle, the sound soft and melodic. he scolds you, though his eyes are softening, “it’s not funny, y/n.”
“i’m not smiling because of the kiwi,” you reply softly, your voice barely a breath.
“then why are you smiling?” he asks, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
you look away for a second, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “i just…i really like it when you call me baby.”
chenle’s heart is practically audible in his chest, his gaze intensifying as he tips your chin up gently, making you look into the depths of his devotion.
“i love you,” he declares, the words sounding like a vow.
“i love you, too,” you whisper back.
he kisses you then – not the desperate, starving kiss from the office, but something slow, sweet, and profoundly tender. it’s a promise of a future. a seal on the new life you’re starting.
then, without warning, he breaks the kiss and sweeps you off your feet. you let out a startled gasp, clutching his shoulders as he lifts you bridal style. he carries you across the room with effortless strength, eyes locked on yours, matching smiles on your faces before placing you carefully in the center of the massive king-sized bed.
as chenle looms over you, the playful energy morphs into something more deeper. he moves with deliberate, agonizing slowness, as if he wants to memorize every single inch of you, making up for every second of the years he spent pretending he didn’t want you.
he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that starts as a whisper and grows into a demand. his tongue swirls against yours as you moan into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
“you have no idea,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly vibration, “how long i’ve dreamed of kissing you.”
his hands move to the hem of your blouse, fingers grazing your skin and sending jolts of electricity through your nerves. he undresses you with a reverence that borders on worship, peeling away the fabrics slowly, pausing to kiss the hollow of your throat, the slope of your shoulder, and the middle of your breast. when you’re finally bare beneath him, he pulls back for a moment, his eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of you.
“you're so beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze heavy with adoration.
he descends slowly, lips finding your breast as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly, you let out a sharp gasp, your back arching off the mattress. the sensation is new – a focused, searing heat that radiates from your chest down to your core. he alternates between soft licks and deep, demanding suctions, moving from one breast to the other, leaving a trail of wet, burning kisses across your ribs.
“lele…oh, god,” you whimper as he continues trailing lower, his tongue tasting the skin of your stomach, circling your navel and teasing the very edge of your underwear. you can feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of his skin mixing with the luxury of the room, your breath coming in short, jagged hitches.
you’ve only known one kind of intimacy ever – that cold, transactional night with him that left you feeling empty. this is different. this is a slow burn, a deliberate awakening.
as he slides your underwear down your legs, he settles between your thighs, pushing them wide. you feel a surge of vulnerability, a sudden flash of inexperience that makes you shy away slightly.
“wait, chenle…i've... i've never…” you start, your voice trembling.
chenle looks up at you, a tender, knowing smile on his face, “i know, baby. just relax. let me take care of you.”
the first contact of his tongue against your clit pulls a soft moan out of you, a sensation you weren’t prepared for. the feeling of pleasure, making your hips instinctively jerk upward, arching off that mattress in a desperate search for more. he presses deeper, his tongue swirling in a slow, rhythmic motion that targets the most sensitive part of you.
“do you like that?” he mumbles, his voice a low, vibrating growl against your wetness, the heat of his breath sending fresh shivers racing down your spine.
“yes…” you whisper shyly, voice trembling. you try to keep your eyes open, wanting to witness the sight of him. but you don’t get to watch for long before your eyes begin to roll back, lids fluttering as he begins to feast on you with a sudden, hungry intensity. he’s no longer just tasting you – he’s consuming you. his tongue flickering rapidly, alternating between broad strokes and sharp, pointed pressure that makes your toes curl. when he suddenly sucks your clit into his mouth, creating a powerful vacuum of pleasure, your vision blurs into a haze of white and gold. you are completely undone. the tension in your lower belly coils tighter and tighter, building into a frantic crescendo that makes you feel like you're vibrating.
“chenle, i’m… i think i’m…” you gasp, your fingers clutching the silk sheets until they bunch up in your fists.
“go on, baby. give it all to me,” he encourages, his voice thick with desire. he works his tongue faster and harder, driving you relentlessly toward the edge.
as he does, he glances up, his dark eyes focusing on the sight of you – your head rolled back, your mouth parted in a silent, desperate gasp, your body arched, your nipples peaked.
he reaches up, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours, anchoring you to the bed. you squeeze his hand with everything you have, clinging to him as the world finally shatters. you cum hard, your clit pulsing against his tongue in a series of intense spasms that leave you sobbing for air. the release is so overwhelming that it feels as though you're floating in a void of pure euphoria, a level of pleasure you never knew existed. you collapse back into the pillows, panting heavily, chest heaving as the aftershocks continue to ripple through you.
chenle slowly lifts his head, your pleasure glistening on his lips. he looks at you with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated love. he crawls back up your body, kissing your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue.
you reach up then, your fingers hooking on his tie. it’s already loosened from your earlier desperation. you tug on it firmly, finally removing it.
with a low, needy sound against his lips, you sit up, beginning to undress him, your movements hurried and clumsy with eagerness. buttons pop and fabric slides until he’s completely naked, his skin warm against yours.
your breath hitches in your throat. you hadn’t seem him fully the first time – but now, in the soft glow of the bedroom, you can’t seem to look away. your gaze drops to his cock.
driven by a sudden, bold curiosity, you reach out, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his shaft.
chenle lets out a sharp, strangled whine, his hips jerking towards your touch instinctively. the sound is so visceral, so unlike the composed man the world knows, that you freeze, your eyes widening.
“did that hurt?” you whisper, looking up at him with genuine concern, as if you've just discovered a secret vulnerability.
a small, breathless smile tugs at his lips, though his eyes are clouded with lust. he shakes his head slowly, his voice a strained rasp, "no, baby... fuck, it feels so good. you drive me insane–,” he kisses you again, pulling back just an inch, forehead resting against yours, breath hot on your skin, “-but you need to stop,” he groans, the sound vibrating in his chest, “i need to be inside you.”
he carefully guides you back to lay on the bed, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to him. he spends a long moment just looking at you, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin and swollen lips.
“i’m sorry about before," he whispers, “i promise i’m going to make up for every single second of it,” he says, voice thick with emotion before grabbing your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your pinky. and before he can let go, you pull his hand towards you, returning the kiss to his pinky too – not the innocent promise of children, but a mature, desperate vow of devotion. chenle’s breath hitches, the small gesture acting like a catalyst, snapping the last thread of his restraint.
he doesn't rush though. he moves with a slow, reverent precision, parting your legs with a gentle nudge of his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. as he positions himself, the head of his cock brushes against your entrance, slick and searing hot. you gasp, your hips instinctively arching upward, seeking the friction. chenle lets out a shaky exhale, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. he enters you in one slow, agonizingly steady glide.
“oh...chenle,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. you’ve never felt so full.
he freezes for a moment, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, a low groan escaping his throat, “you're so tight... so warm. i can't believe you're actually mine.”
then he begins to move, and it is nothing like the clinical urgency of the first time. this is a dance. he pulls back until he is almost out, only to plunge back in with a slow, heavy thud that makes you cry out. every thrust is deliberate, designed to make you feel the weight of him, the heat of him, and the sheer intensity of his love.
“chenle... please,” you whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulders, “right there... don't stop.”
“i've got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips leaving searing trails of heat.
he picks up the pace slightly, the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin filling the quiet room. then he reaches down, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, thumb circling your swollen nub, perfectly timed with the deep, rhythmic thrusts of his hips. the combination is electric. you feel that same tension building again, faster this time, a coil of pleasure tightening with every stroke. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to erase any remaining space between you.
“look at me,” he commands softly. you open your eyes to find him watching you with an expression of pure, unadulterated worship, “tell me you feel it. tell me you know how much i love you.”
“i feel it,” you sob, your voice breaking, “i love you...i love you so much, chenle."
the words breaks something inside him. his movements become more urgent, more passionate, though he never loses that sweetness. he begins to whisper things against your skin – promises of a future, apologies for the past, and raw admissions of how much he craved this specific moment.
as the climax begins to crest, you feel your walls clamp down on him in tight, rhythmic waves. you gasp his name, body shuddering under the force of a release that feels like a spiritual cleansing. chenle lets out a guttural, strangled cry, his body stiffening as he delivers a few final, powerful thrusts. he pours himself into you, his own release consuming, his head falling at the crook of your neck as he gives in to the euphoria, collapsing onto you, his chest heaving against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, crushing embrace. for a long time, the only sound in the room is the synchronized thumping of two hearts finally beating in the same rhythm.
“i love you,” he whispers into your hair, his voice exhausted but certain.
⚜️ THE REST OF YOUR LIFE ⚜️
you wake up to the sound of light snoring from your husband, his arms locked firmly around your naked waist, your back flushed against his bare chest. the warmth of skin on skin is electric, but it’s the prominent, hard bulge of his cock pressing firmly into the small of your back that makes your breath hitch.
you pinch your arm, a sharp sting that confirms this isn't a fever dream.
then you shift gently in his embrace, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. as you move, his cock slides against the curve of your hip, dangerously close to your core. the proximity makes your pussy clench instinctively. you’ve always loved chenle but this kind of hunger was new - a desperate need to be consumed by him.
“stop staring at me, you creep,” he teases, his voice thick with sleep.
you let out a breathless laugh, swatting his shoulder. the sound of your own laughter feels foreign yet right.
it hits you then – the terrifying, beautiful ease of it all. like the past six years of coldness, the resentment, and the silence were just a bad dream, easily erased by the heat of his body.
sensing your sudden silence, chenle opens his eyes. the gaze he meets you with is soft, searching, and filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.
“what are you thinking about?” he asks softly, his hand drifting up to thread his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp.
“just… thinking about how nice this is,” you whisper, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips.
“yeah?” he lets out a playful hum, his eyes shimmering with complete adoration, “think you could do this with me for the rest of our lives?”
you lean in then, kissing him softly, “yes,” you murmur against his lips with absolutely no doubt, “you’ve always been the only person i could ever do this with.”
chenle’s heart stutters. he had thought his love for you had reached its peak, but every time you surprise him with your tenderness, the feeling grows, expanding until it feels like he might burst.
“do you think this would still be nice with twenty kids?” he teases, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes.
you recoil slightly, a look of genuine horror flashing across your face. “what?! i’m not giving you twenty kids, chenle! are you insane?!”
he bursts into a loud, genuine laugh, his eyes disappearing into crescents, his kitten-like smile whiskers prominent. as he calms down, he smirks, leaning closer, “i’m not the one who wants twenty kids. i’m pretty sure it was my beautiful wife, coming home drunk a month ago and begging me for a baby.”
you groan, your face flushing a deep crimson as you try to rack your brain for any memory of such a confession. but you don’t remember anything.
“i was drunk! i wasn’t in my right mind!”
“hmm,” he draws the word out fondly, his hand sliding down from your hair to trace the curve of your hip, “how many kids do you actually want then?”
“two,” you admit shyly, looking away.
“only two? baby, this mansion would go to waste,” he teases, a playful smirk on his face.
“okay… three then,” you say, trying to hide the smile growing on your face.
“what if one of them feels left out?”
“four. and that’s it!” you exclaim.
in one fluid motion, chenle rolls you onto your back, pinning you beneath his weight, his eyes dark with lust, his hard cock hitting your thigh with a heavy thud.
“guess we should start getting to work then,” he smirks.
you giggle underneath him, pulling him in for a quick kiss before murmuring against his lips, “can you do that thing you did last night first, though?” you ask, cheeks burning.
“what thing, baby? i did a couple of things.”
the embarrassment is overwhelming, but the craving is stronger. you bite your lip, unable to say it aloud.
“c’mon, mrs. zhong, owner of two beauty empires,” he teases, his voice a low, sultry drawl, “you can tell your husband exactly what you want.”
“go down on me again, chenle,” you whisper.
he grins, a predatory yet loving expression, “of course, baby… but you do know that’s not how babies are made, right?”
you groan, shoving at his chest, “i really don't care.”
he chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest before he slides down your body. he doesn't stop until his face is buried between your thighs, letting out a low moan at the scent of your arousal, his hot breath ghosting over your clit before his tongue makes a slow, wet sweep from your bottom to the top, tasting every drop of your longing.
⚜️ THE OFFICE ⚜️
when you get to the office later that day, arriving in the same car, and walking through the lobby of yü skincare together – the atmosphere shifts. you can feel the collective intake of breath from the staff, the employees practically vibrating with curiosity, eyes darting between you and chenle, trying and failing to hide their sheer shock. you don't blame them. for seven months, your marriage had been spent apart. to see him not only accompanying you to your door but looking at you with an expression of raw, unfiltered adoration is enough to send the office gossip into overdrive.
your eyes scan the room, landing on a familiar figure – mark lee is back at his desk, focused and working. a surge of triumph rushes through you. you’ve won.
the moment the heavy door to your private office clicks shut, the professional facade vanishes. chenle doesn't waste a second. his hands are instantly back on you, grip firm and possessive as he spins you around to face him, pinning you lightly against the edge of your desk.
you grin, your eyes dancing with mischief, “i see mark lee is back,” you say teasingly.
chenle huffs a small, amused breath, his forehead resting against yours, “yeah, he’s back. but tell him he’s walking on a very thin line,” he murmurs, though there’s no real heat in the threat. you laugh, a genuine, light sound, and shove his shoulder playfully.
his expression shifts, the playfulness melting into something achingly sincere as he cups your face in his hands, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a reverence that makes your heart stutter.
“you know i’d give you everything you want, right? just say the word and it’s all yours.”
it’s not just a statement – it’s another confession, a continuation of the vow he’s been making since you woke up.
“i told you,” he whispers, his gaze searching yours, “i’ll spend the rest of this life, and every single one after that, making it up to you.”
you let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, “when did you become such a sap?” you tease, reaching up and winding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him down.
the kiss is slow, languid, and deep – a sweet contrast to the hunger of the morning, but filled with the same desperate need to be close. as your tongues slide together, the corporate world outside the door ceases to exist, there is only the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, and the overwhelming realization that you are finally, truly, loved.
⚜️ THE FULFILLED PROMISE ⚜️
it didn’t take long after that before you finally got pregnant.
you and chenle fucked all the time. and it wasn’t even to conceive – the two you just physically could not get enough of each other. the mansion became your personal playground. you were pretty sure there wasn’t a single square inch of the estate that hadn’t felt the heat of your bodies.
like that one time when you both got home after a charity gala. you had worn a red dress that hugged every curve, the slit climbing dangerously high up your thigh. all night, chenle had been a predator in a tuxedo, his gaze burning into you, hand possessively gripping the small of your back, whispering filth into your ear while you smiled for the cameras. he didn't want to network, he wanted to rip the dress off your body. the moment the heavy doors of the mansion clicked shut behind you, the facade crumbled. he didn't even let you take off your heels. chenle grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you up with a grunt of effort and placing you down onto the large, circular marble table that sat centrally between the grand staircases, not even caring about the priceless antique vase sitting on top of it. he didn't waste time with foreplay – he reached down, bunching the red silk upward, exposing your lace panties and with one violent tug, he ripped the lace aside, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the vast foyer. “i’ve been thinking about this since the moment you put this dress on,” he growled, voice raw. he freed his pulsing cock, already leaking pre-cum, and shoved it into you in one deep, punishing thrust. you moaned his name so loud, back arching off the marble, legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper. the sound of your shared moans bounced off the high ceilings, filling the foyer with the raw noises of pleasure. he fucked you desperately, hips slamming against yours with a wet, slapping sound that could be heard all around the mansion. you knew the maids were nearby, you could almost feel their shocked eyes on you, but the thought only made you wetter. you gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his tuxedo jacket, sobbing his name as he hammered into you, driving you toward a shattering climax that left you shaking and drenched.
then there was the discovery of the billiards room. it had been a forgotten wing of the house, dusty and silent until you both stumbled upon it during a lazy afternoon. the moment the door closed, the atmosphere shifted. the green felt of the billiard table looked like an invitation. chenle didn't even let you stand still. he lifted you up the billiard table, hiking your dress up and spreading your legs wide. “you smell so sweet,” he murmured, breath hot against your inner thigh. he didn't hesitate, burying his face in your pussy. his tongue was your favorite weapon – broad, wet, and relentless. he licked your folds, swirling around your clit, making your toes curl. he fingered you with his other hand, two fingers sliding deep inside your soaking walls, stretching you while his tongue continued to drive you insane. it was an intense combination. you were sobbing, fingers clutching his hair. just as you reached the peak, he pulled away, leaving you gasping and dripping. he didn't give you a second to whine about it, grabbing your hips to help you down then bending you forward until your chest was pressed against the green felt. “look at you,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress, “always so ready for me.” he entered you from behind, his cock filling you completely over and over again. the friction of the billiard table against your skin and the relentless pace of his thrusts sent you over the edge. he fucked you ruthlessly, his hand reaching around to pinch your nipples over your pajama dress, his chest heaving against your back. every thrust was a claim, a promise that you belonged to him, until he finally groaned, filling you with a hot, thick surge of cum that left you both breathless and spent.
and also that one time in the hot tub, it wasn’t even night time…it was pure daylight, the sun was out, illuminating every inch of the outdoor sanctuary. the risk of being seen by the gardeners or the staff was immense, but the adrenaline only fueled the fire. you were draped across him, your legs wrapped around his waist as you rode him. the warm, bubbling water splashed around you, clinging to your skin. chenle’s hands were everywhere – one gripping your ass to keep you steady, the other reaching up to grab your breast. he leaned in, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it hard, his tongue swirling around the peak. you threw your head back, your moans echoing across the open terrace, completely uninhibited. you could feel the vibration of the water and the rhythmic slide of his cock deep inside you. every time you sank down, you felt him hit your cervix, a sensation that made you whimper and cling to his shoulders. “who cares if they see?” he gasped, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a mixture of lust and adoration, “let them see who you belong to.” he gripped your waist tighter, lifting you slightly before slamming you back down onto him. the splashing grew more violent, the water churning as the pace increased. you rode him with a frantic energy, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone with every downward stroke. when the climax hit, it was explosive. you screamed his name into the open air, your walls clamping down on him in tight, rhythmic waves, while he groaned, thrusting one last time and flooding you with his cum under the bright, midday sun.
and then there was that one week honeymoon that chenle insisted on, saying that he never got to give you a proper one. you two spent a week in the most luxurious private resort in hawaii. the resort is beautiful, open to the tropical air and the rhythmic crash of the ocean, but you barely saw the view. you were too occupied by your husband. for seven days, the world ceased to exist. there were no board meetings, no family expectations, and no corporate rules – only the sound of wet, slapping skin and the desperate gasps of two people becoming one. he fucked you in the private pool, the warm water swirling around your hips as he held you against the edge, his cock sliding in and out of you with a frictionless ease that made you scream into the salty air. he fucked you on the outdoor daybed, under the moon, the linen sheets soaking through with your combined juices. he would spend hours worshipping your body, his tongue tracing every curve, every fold, before driving himself into you with a force that left you shaking and sobbing his name.
and of course, eventually, you fucked in both of your offices. the two of you tried to keep it professional at first but at one point, you just couldn’t stop yourselves. i mean, no one can fire you anyway. and the two of you spend so much time at work it just makes sense. your favorite routine involved the desk — when you were the one who gets to play, disappearing from view while chenle continued a conference call. the contrast was intoxicating, his voice, cool and commanding, discussing quarterly projections, while your mouth was wrapped tightly around his cock. you would suck him with a focused intensity, swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as deep as your throat would allow, listening to the slight hitch in his breath and the way his hand gripped the edge of the desk to keep from groaning. when he finally hangs up, he would haul you out from under the desk by your waist and slam you down onto the edge of it, “my little slut wants to play, huh?” he’d growl against your lips as you cling to the desk for dear life, heels digging into the carpet. he took you right there in the center of his power, filling you to the brim.
but still...nothing beats fucking in your shared bedroom, this was where the real intensity lived, especially on the nights when chenle’s gaze turned dark and determined. on those nights, he didn't just want to fuck you – he wanted to possess you completely. he would start by flipping you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees in doggy style. he loved the view of your arched back and the way your ass looked spread wide for him. he would grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and thrust into you from behind. the sound of his balls slapping against your cheeks echoed through the room, a raw, primal beat that drove you insane. he would reach forward to pull your hair back, whispering filth into your ear about how much he loved the way you took him. then, he would flip you onto your back, hoisting your legs up high, sometimes draping them over his shoulders, so that he could penetrate you at the deepest possible angle. in this position, there was no escape. he drove himself in until he hit your cervix, each thrust a heavy, thumping blow that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. “look at me,” he would command, his eyes burning with an obsessive kind of love, “tell me you're mine.” the friction and the intensity pushed you toward a peak you had never experienced before. in the heat of those nights, you discovered the sensation of squirting – your pussy drenching the sheets and leaving you gasping for air. the feeling of losing control, of your body literally overflowing with pleasure, sends chenle into a frenzy. he would fuck you even harder, driving you through multiple, shattering orgasms, his own release coming in a hot, thick flood that filled you completely, leaving you both tangled in the damp sheets, hearts racing in a synchronized rhythm of absolute devotion.
now, a year into marriage and you were two months pregnant with your first child.
it hasn’t been easy, your baby was stubborn – which you honestly should’ve seen coming knowing how stubborn its father is (and you, too).
the pregnancy had stripped away your usual composure. for a woman who navigated the cutthroat world of billionaire cosmetics with a steady hand, the loss of control was infuriating.
your morning sickness wasn't just “morning”sickness – it was a rolling tide of nausea that lasted the whole day. you had spent the last few weeks throwing up everything from expensive lobster to plain crackers. to add to the misery, your breasts had swollen, becoming agonizingly sore to the touch.
you were, in a word – grumpy. a whirlwind of mood swings, snapping at assistants and sobbing over the smallest of things, existing in a state of perpetual irritation. which was especially unfortunate considering you had never been particularly good at dealing with discomfort. you are a billionaire. struggle is not your forte.
still, chenle had been unbelievably sweet and understanding through all of it. he spent his days balancing both companies and his nights massaging your back or holding your hair back while you retched into the toilet, kissing your forehead with a tenderness that still made your heart ache.
today, you were plagued by a craving so specific, so visceral, that it felt like a physical hunger. you wanted a tomato-egg dish. but not just any version. it had to be right.
chef sung ahn, a culinary genius, was currently in the midst of a crisis — seven bowls of the dish sat on the marble island, each one a slightly different variation of seasoning and texture. and yet, none of them were right.
you pushed the seventh bowl away with a pout, your lower lip trembling. you knew you were acting like a spoiled child, but as you rested a hand over your still-flat stomach, you reasoned that you were carrying what is about to be the most spoiled heir in the country. it only made sense.
the heavy thud of the front door announced chenle’s return. he stepped into the kitchen, shedding his blazer and loosening his tie, his eyes immediately landing on the scene.
“baby,” he murmured, stepping behind you and pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to the crown of your head.
his scent, expensive cologne and the lingering musk of a long day at the office, usually calmed you, but today you were too frustrated to be fully appeased, “what’s going on in here?”
you let out a dramatic groan, leaning back into his chest, “your stupid baby wants a certain taste, and the chef can’t do it!" you complained, pouting up at him, “nothing tastes right, chenle! everything is wrong!”
chenle looked from your frustrated expression to the exhausted but patient chef sung ahn, a small, apologetic smile playing on his lips as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.
“i’m so sorry, chef. she’s been incredibly sensitive since the pregnancy started. i think we're dealing with a very demanding little one.”
chef sung ahn smiled knowingly, unfazed by the seven wasted bowls. he was paid far too much to be offended by the complaints of a pregnant billionaire.
“that’s perfectly alright, mr. zhong. my wife was exactly the same way. i remember a week where she nearly kicked me out of the house because the toast was too loud.”
the two men share a low chuckle while you try not to roll your eyes. his wife was valid and you know it.
“i think i know exactly what she wants, though,” chenle said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming soft and confident.
"i’ll take care of it. thank you, chef. you can head out for the day."
as the chef departed, chenle took his place, rolling up his sleeves and exposing his forearms. you remained seated on the bar stool, watching him. there was something hypnotic about the way he moved – the precision of his knife, the way he cracked the eggs with one hand, the sizzle of the tomatoes hitting the pan.
as the aroma began to waft through the air, something happened — for the first time in hours, the nausea in your stomach vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense surge of appetite.
your mouth watered. the scent was an exact match – not to a michelin-star recipe, but to a memory. a flash of nostalgia hitting you. you were seventeen again, shivering under a duvet in your room, delirious with a fever. chenle visited you with a simple, home-cooked tomato-egg dish. it hadn't been fancy, but it had been made with a quiet kind of care that had spoken louder than any words.
you looked at your husband – the man who had once been your best friend, then your cold stranger, and now the love of your life. a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. your baby, barely the size of a fruit, was already exerting its will, bypassing the expertise of a world-class chef to demand the specific, nostalgic touch of its father.
god, you thought, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips as you watched him plate the food. the baby already has a favorite. what a traitor.
chenle finished the dish quickly, the steam curling upward, carrying that precise, comforting scent that had finally silenced the storm in your stomach.
he slid the bowl in front of you, the colors vibrant and the aroma intoxicating. as you picked up the spoon to take a bite, he stepped towards you.
“how is it?” he smirks teasingly. because he knows you. and he knows it’s exactly what you needed.
you let out a soft, involuntary sigh of contentment, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a verbal compliment just yet. instead, you pouted, looking up at him through your lashes. without warning, you reached out and gripped the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material in your fist and tugging him towards you as you burrowed your face into chest.
“you’re not allowed to go to work anymore,” you mumbled against his shirt, “you’re staying with me. every second of every day.”
a low, vibrating chuckle erupted from his chest, the sound echoing against your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you, hands splaying across your back.
he adored this version of you – the spoiled, demanding, vulnerable woman who only wanted him.
“i’m perfectly okay with that,” he whispered, his voice dripping with fond adoration.
you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes shimmering. the stubbornness was still there, but it was softened by a deep, aching affection.
you reached up then, hooking your arms around his neck to pull him down toward you for a soft, lingering kiss filled with tenderness and love.
⚜️ THE END ⚜️
an: weeee!!!! did i spend my entire weekend glued to my computer writing this like a loser? yeah…i did. but i had to ride on the high of inspiration and delusions before i lose it or else this would take me months to finish lmao. anyways, i loved writing this! and i’m also realizing it’s very easy for me to write for chenle idk it’s always so fun for me!!! fun game: can you guess what kind of dad chenle is!! aka can you guess the gender of the baby??? put in the comments what you think! 😉 (i do have the answer). and please let me know your thoughts! thank ü for reading, much love to ü 💛
EXTRA: GENDER REVEAL PARTY
🏆 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
💳 if you enjoyed this story and would like to show extra support, my kofi is open! (i’m so broke rn guys pls spare some change 😔🚬)
The airport buzzed with laughter, the kind that only comes from people who’ve been waiting for this trip for months. Someone was already talking about which beaches to hit first, someone else about the rooftop bars and the boat parties.
Y/N rolled her suitcase toward the group, sunglasses perched on her head, linen shirt fluttering in the breeze sneaking through the open doors. Greece smelled like salt and sunscreen and something close to freedom. She smiled to herself — she needed this. A week away from work, from routine, from anything that reminded her of him.
“Okay, everyone’s here!” Lina chirped, her excitement contagious. She was practically vibrating as she checked her phone again. “He’s outside waiting for us!”
“He?” Mark teased, grinning as he bumped her shoulder. “The mysterious boyfriend you’ve been hiding from us?”
Lina only giggled, cheeks pink. “You’ll see.”
Y/N smirked, tugging her tote higher on her shoulder. “Finally, we get to meet the man who stole our girl.”
Lina laughed again but didn’t answer — she was already darting toward the sliding glass doors, suitcase rolling behind her. The rest of them followed, still joking, still unaware that the air was about to shift.
And it did. The second Y/N stepped into the sun and saw him.
Her heart stopped.
Then dropped.
Donghyuck.
He stood near a white rental van, tan skin glowing against a loose white button-up, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair darker and messier than she remembered. Two years had passed, but God — he still looked like every memory she tried to forget. The same smirk shape to his lips, though right now it was gone, replaced by wide eyes as Lina sprinted into his arms.
“Oh my god, baby!” Lina squealed, jumping on him. He caught her easily, laughing softly — and then his gaze lifted.
Straight to Y/N.
It was like the world tilted. For a second, he just stilled, arms still around Lina, every muscle in his body locking up. His smile faded, replaced by shock — and something else. Something that looked too close to ache.
Y/N’s lungs burned.
No one knew. Not a single person in this group had any idea.
She’d dated him for three years. Three years of coffee runs, road trips, late-night fights, and mornings where she thought they’d last forever. Three years of love and chaos and him calling her his whole damn world — until they weren’t.
And now… he was Lina’s boyfriend.
Lina turned toward the group, still holding onto his arm. “Everyone, this is Hyuck!” she beamed. “Hyuck, this is everyone — Mark, Jaemin, Jeno, Y/N—”
Y/N.
The sound of her name broke something open in the air.
Donghyuck’s throat bobbed. For a second, he didn’t move — didn’t breathe. Then, as if forcing himself, he extended a hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice rougher than she remembered.
Y/N’s fingers trembled as she reached for his. Her pulse thundered against her ribs, her smile too bright, too sharp. “Nice to meet you too.”
Their hands met. Skin on skin.
And it hit them both — that familiar spark, the kind that used to feel like home.
She pulled back instantly, almost like it burned.
Jaemin, ever the oblivious peacekeeper, threw an arm around her shoulders, grinning wide. “This trip’s gonna be fun, huh?”
Y/N forced a laugh, but her eyes flicked one last time to Donghyuck. He was still staring.
And from the way his jaw clenched — she knew.
He wasn’t ready for this either.
The summer heat hit like a furnace the second they stepped outside. The van was a toaster in the sun, the air thick with sunscreen and the smell of blooming olive trees.
Hyuck rolled up his sleeves, helping Mark and Jaemin load bags into the trunk, his movements quick and practiced. He was talking — laughing, even — but his voice didn’t sound like him. Not really.
Y/N tried to lift her own suitcase, but before she could swing it up, Hyuck was there.
“I got it,” he said quietly.
“It’s fine, I can—”
“I said I got it.”
Their fingers brushed when he took the handle from her. Her breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, they both froze — the air between them humming with something too familiar. Then he looked away, sliding the suitcase into the van like it was nothing.
She swallowed hard. “Thanks.”
His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t answer.
Lina appeared a second later, throwing her arms around him from behind. “You’re so helpful baby,” she giggled.
He smiled — or tried to. But it was stiff, his body not quite moving with hers. Y/N saw the faraway look in his eyes before he blinked it away, nodding absently as Lina kissed his shoulder.
“Alright, everyone in!” Mark called out, already climbing into the front passenger seat.
Y/N slipped into the van, settling into the second row by the window. She closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her forehead, trying to breathe. The hum of conversation blurred around her — Jaemin cracking a joke, Jeno teasing Mark about his playlist, Lina’s laugh cutting through everything.
She didn’t open her eyes again, even when she felt it — his gaze.
Through the rearview mirror, Hyuck’s eyes found her reflection. He lingered there, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel, the curve of his mouth unreadable.
He shouldn’t have looked.
But he couldn’t not.
For almost two hours, the van rolled through winding roads, golden hills fading into lush countryside. The group sang, argued over snacks, pointed out random goats. Y/N stayed quiet, pretending to nap while her mind screamed.
Her ex — her college boyfriend, her first love — was Lina’s boyfriend.
And now she was stuck with him in Greece. For the summer.
--------------------
They finally reached it — a sun-drenched villa perched above a lake so blue it looked unreal. The tiny town nearby shimmered in the distance, roofs terracotta against endless sky.
Everyone tumbled out of the van, immediately gasping and cheering.
“Holy crap, Hyuck, this place is insane!” Jeno said, spinning in a slow circle.
“Your cousin’s rich rich,” Mark added, eyes wide as he took in the white stucco walls and blooming bougainvillea.
Hyuck just smiled faintly. “Yeah. He said we could use it for the summer, so… make yourselves at home.”
He began unloading the bags, one by one — including hers. He didn’t ask where it went; somehow, he remembered she always preferred rooms with a view. When he carried her luggage upstairs, the large window overlooking the lake glowed gold with sunset.
She turned, startled, as he set it down gently by the bed.
“Thanks,” she said again, softer this time.
He nodded, eyes flicking around the room once before stepping back. “You got the best view,” he murmured.
“I guess being the only girl other than Lina has its perks.”
Downstairs, the boys groaned in protest when they saw the layout.
“Wait, wait, wait— Y/N gets her own room?” Jaemin complained.
Jeno threw an arm over her shoulder dramatically. “Unfair. I’m calling it now — I’m sneaking in tonight and stealing her bed.”
Everyone laughed, even Y/N, nudging him off with a grin.
Everyone except Hyuck.
He stood by the door, one hand still gripping his water bottle, eyes on Jeno’s arm draped casually over her shoulders. His jaw worked once, then he looked away quickly, forcing a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Everyone settle in. We’ll unpack, grab dinner in town later. Just… relax.”
Y/N nodded absently, watching him disappear down the hall with Lina clinging to his arm.
The sunset glowed across the lake, and for a moment, she thought about how it used to feel — him carrying her bags into their shared dorm after long trips, him brushing her hair out of her face, him smiling like she was the only one he saw.
Now he wouldn’t even meet her eyes.
---------------
The villa was quiet by the time the sun began to set.
Someone had drawn the curtains in the living room, soft snores coming from Mark and Jaemin tangled on the couch.
Jeno was asleep half-sitting against the wall, and Lina had curled into Hyuck’s side upstairs, mumbling something about “just ten minutes” before drifting off completely.
But Y/N couldn’t sleep.
She’d tried — closed her eyes, turned on her side, even counted waves lapping against the shore — but her mind wouldn’t quiet. It kept circling back to the way he’d looked at her earlier, the brief, stunned silence between them, the ache she’d felt all over again.
When the sky turned the color of honey and flame, she gave up and slipped outside.
The air was cooler now, brushing against her skin as she walked down the path toward the lake. The water shimmered like glass, the surface catching the sunset in ripples. She found a small bench near the dock and sat down, exhaling slowly.
It was beautiful.
And it hurt.
She stared at the reflection of the sky on the lake until she heard it — quiet footsteps crunching against the gravel.
Her chest tightened before she even turned.
Donghyuck.
He looked different in the fading light — softer somehow, hair tousled, the collar of his shirt undone. He stopped beside the bench, hesitating for a beat before speaking.
“Can I sit?”
She nodded wordlessly.
He lowered himself beside her, a careful space between them, hands clasped loosely in his lap. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The cicadas hummed, the sun dipped lower, and the world felt suspended — like the universe was holding its breath.
Finally, he broke the silence.
“Can we talk?”
Y/N turned to him, eyes cautious. “Yeah.”
He exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he started quietly. “Lina didn’t tell me who her friends were. And when I saw you at the airport, I—” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching humorlessly. “I thought I was dreaming.”
She nodded slowly. “I had no idea either. Lina never said a name, just that she had a boyfriend she wanted me to meet.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I figured.”
Silence again — heavy but not hostile.
Then, with a low sigh, he added, “For what it’s worth… I never would’ve even looked her way if I knew she was your best friend.” His voice softened, guilt threaded through every word. “I never wanted things to get this messy or complicated.”
Y/N’s throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, twisting her ring. “That means a lot,” she said softly. Then, forcing a small smile, she added, “And… I’m happy for you. Really. Lina’s great.”
Hyuck’s lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t say thank you, didn’t agree — just stared out at the lake, his expression unreadable.
After a long moment, he asked quietly, “Are you seeing anyone?”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “No. Not at the moment.”
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the horizon.
They talked a little after that. About work, about mutual friends, about how he’d moved cities for a while before coming back. It felt strange — familiar and foreign all at once. He still laughed the same, still tilted his head when he listened. But every time their eyes met, she felt that same sharp pull in her chest.
When their conversation finally slowed, Hyuck leaned back slightly, exhaling. “It’s been a long time,” he said quietly. “I know we had… hurt feelings back then. But maybe we could try to be...friends? Or at least friendly?”
Y/N hesitated.
Friends.
She didn’t want that. Didn’t know how to sit across from him, to pretend the years they spent loving each other meant nothing. But she also saw Lina’s smile in her mind — her best friend, happy and unsuspecting — and she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
So she nodded.
“Sure,” she said softly. “For Lina.”
He looked at her, relief flickering across his face. “Alright.”
The air settled again. Neither of them moved. The lake rippled gently under the last of the sun, painting their reflections in gold.
And there they sat — side by side, quiet, pretending that “alright” didn’t hurt as much as it did.
---------------
By the time everyone woke up, night had crept softly over the lake.
The villa glowed with warm light, the scent of roasted herbs and olive oil drifting through the open windows.
“Hyuck!” Mark called as he walked into the kitchen. “Dude, what is that smell? I’m starving.”
Hyuck looked up from the stove, a faint smile curving his lips. “Just something simple for the first night,” he said, brushing his hands on a towel. “Thought we’d start with Greek food—chicken souvlaki, lemon potatoes, tzatziki, all that.”
“Simple, he says,” Jaemin teased, peeking over his shoulder. “Looks like a five-star meal, chef.”
Lina wrapped her arms around Hyuck from behind, beaming. “You’re amazing,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It smells incredible.”
He smiled faintly, murmured a quiet thanks—but the moment her lips left his skin, his gaze drifted.
Straight to Y/N.
She froze for a heartbeat, pretending not to notice, then quickly busied herself helping Jeno set the table.
When everyone finally sat down outside under the string lights, the lake glimmering below, it almost felt perfect. The night hummed with cicadas, the air warm, laughter easy.
Hyuck placed the last dish in the center, the golden chicken steaming in the cool breeze. “Dig in,” he said, sitting beside Lina, who immediately piled food onto his plate.
Y/N took a piece of the chicken, forcing herself to act normal, to breathe, to smile. But the moment the first bite hit her tongue, everything inside her went still.
The flavor—lemon, garlic, rosemary—was his.
The same seasoning. The same faint char. The same warmth.
And suddenly, she wasn’t sitting by the lake anymore.
-----------------
College apartment.
Tiny kitchen. Smoke everywhere.
“Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re going to set off the alarm!”
“It’s fine! It’s fine—wait, okay, maybe not fine—”
The smoke detector blared to life, high-pitched and shrill. Y/N panicked, waving a towel frantically. “Open a window!”
Hyuck coughed, laughing helplessly as smoke billowed out of the pan. “I swear I followed the recipe—”
“Hyuck, it’s burning!”
She rushed forward, grabbing the pan with oven mitts and shoving it under running water. It hissed and spat, steam rising everywhere.
He was still laughing, leaning against the counter. “We’re a disaster.”
“You’re a disaster,” she shot back, but she was laughing too now, cheeks flushed.
He stepped closer, eyes softening as the noise died down. “You love it though.”
Before she could reply, his hands slid around her waist, pulling her close. He kissed her—deep, slow, tasting like smoke and laughter.
“Maybe we should just order food,” he murmured against her lips.
“Yeah,” she giggled, tugging him in again. “We should.”
----------------
The sound of Jaemin’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“Y/N?”
She blinked, choking slightly on her bite. “What?”
“You okay? You looked like you were about to die.”
“Yeah,” she rasped, grabbing her glass and taking a long drink of water, trying to drown the rush of memory. “Just… went down the wrong way.”
Jaemin chuckled, leaning closer. “Careful, or we’ll have to perform the Heimlich.”
She smiled weakly, and before she could reach for her napkin, he was already brushing his thumb over the corner of her lips. “You got sauce,” he said, grinning.
“Thanks,” she murmured, cheeks heating.
Neither of them noticed the way Hyuck’s eyes snapped to them.
The way his jaw tightened just slightly.
He looked away a second later, laughing at something Jeno said, pouring Lina more wine. But his movements were a little too controlled, his smile a little too smooth.
Around the table, the night melted into easy conversation. Mark and Jaemin argued about who’d get the biggest bed, Jeno and Hyuck traded music recommendations, Lina rested her head on Hyuck’s shoulder, giggling softly.
And Y/N? She smiled. Laughed when they did. Pretended her chest didn’t ache.
Hyuck fit in perfectly—like nothing was out of place.
But every now and then, when the light caught him just right, she’d see it. The same distant look from earlier. The one that said he was somewhere else entirely.
Probably with her.
Just like she was still somewhere with him.
--------------
The villa slept under a blanket of moonlight.
The laughter from dinner had long faded; the only sounds left were the steady hum of crickets and the faint splash of water against the dock.
But Y/N couldn’t sleep.
She’d been lying there for what felt like hours, the sheets twisted around her legs, the ceiling a blur above her. Her heart wouldn’t calm down — not after the way he’d looked at her, not after the way the food had brought everything back.
It was only the first day, and she already felt unravelled.
Finally, she gave up. Slipping into a cardigan, she padded barefoot through the quiet halls and out onto the patio. The night air was cool, the scent of pine and lake water sharp in her lungs. The moon hung huge above the hills, its reflection trembling across the dark water.
She almost felt calm — until she saw him.
A shadow near the railing, faint orange light flickering in the dark. Smoke curled up into the night, slow and lazy, catching the moonlight.
Her breath caught.
“Hyuck?”
He startled slightly, eyes still half-closed as he exhaled another stream of smoke. When he turned toward her, his expression softened, just a flicker.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.” Her gaze dropped to the cigarette between his fingers. “...I also didn’t know that you smoke now.”
He gave a small, tired laugh. “Yeah. Nobody does. Especially not Lina.”
She raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t know?”
He shook his head. “She’d hate it if she found out I started again.” He flicked the ash into a tray, glancing at her. “Do me a favor and keep this between us?”
Something bitter twisted in her chest.
“Another secret to keep from her. Great.”
His eyes lifted to hers, sharp this time, really looking at her. Up and down. “Don’t start with me,” he muttered. “I can deal with my stress however I want.”
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “You can do whatever you want. That’s what you do all the time anyway.”
That hit him.
He scoffed, exhaling hard through his nose. “Still as judgey as ever, huh?”
“Still as defensive as ever,” she shot back. “I just forgot how you always manage to make everything about you.”
“Funny,” he said, turning toward her fully now. “You’re the one who came out here to pick a fight.”
“I came out here for air,” she snapped. “Didn’t realize I’d be breathing in your bad habits too.”
“Wow,” he laughed without humor, flicking the cigarette away. “You really haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
The words hung there, cold and heavy, the silence after them sharper than any yell could’ve been.
And then — too quietly, too carelessly — he said it.
“Well, I’m not the one who ended the relationship.”
The air shifted.
Her throat closed up instantly, tears burning behind her eyes before she could even blink.
His face fell the second he saw them. “No, no, hey—” He stepped closer, panic flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean that, Y/N, I swear—don’t cry—”
She shook her head, stepping back quickly, voice trembling. “You know exactly why I did it. And you know it wasn’t my fault.”
“Y/N—”
But she was already turning, her tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks. She ran inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her, footsteps echoing up the stairs. Her bedroom door clicked a second later.
Outside, Hyuck stood frozen.
He ran a hand through his hair, his heartbeat loud in the quiet. He picked up the half-burned cigarette, staring at the glowing tip before bringing it to his lips again. The smoke curled upward, dissolving into the stars.
“Two years,” he whispered to no one.
He blinked hard, but it didn’t help. The sting behind his eyes stayed.
Some wounds just never learn to fade.
The villa was still quiet when Y/N stirred before dawn. Sleep hadn’t come easy; her mind wouldn’t stop replaying his words, his expression, the way his voice had cracked at the end. She turned over in her bed again and again before finally slipping out, padding barefoot down the hallway to the room Jaemin and Jeno shared.
They were both heavy sleepers. She hesitated at first, then quietly lifted the blanket and crawled in between them, sighing softly at the warmth. Jaemin stirred, blinking blearily.
“Y/N…? Is that you?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
She nodded, whispering, “Sorry to wake you. My room just… feels too big tonight.”
Jaemin didn’t even hesitate. He opened his arms, and she fit herself against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth was grounding, familiar. Her heart slowed. He rubbed her back lazily, half-asleep.
“You okay?” he mumbled.
She nodded against him. “Better now that I’m here with you.”
“Good,” he whispered, pressing his chin lightly to the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.”
They both drifted off like that, the sound of the sea outside the open window steady and calm.
When the knock came an hour later, it was soft at first, then louder. Jeno groaned, rolling over. Jaemin blinked awake just as the door creaked open and Lina’s bright voice filled the room.
“Guys—oh my god,” she gasped, then pouted dramatically. “You had a sleepover without me? No fair!”
Y/N blinked awake, still groggy, her cheek pressed against Jaemin’s chest. She laughed softly at Lina’s expression. “Come here, then,” she said, opening her arms. Lina didn’t need to be told twice — she crawled onto the bed, nestling beside Y/N, who hugged her close with a sleepy grin.
Across the room, Jeno sat up, yawning, rubbing the back of his neck before getting out of bed.
And that’s when Hyuck’s voice came from the doorway — low, uncertain.
“Morning.”
Lina smiled at him. “Morning! Look at them, they kicked me out of the cuddle party last night,” she teased, motioning toward Y/N and Jaemin’s messy bed.
Hyuck’s eyes flicked to Y/N before he could stop himself — her tousled hair, her sleepy smile, the way she was still half in Jaemin’s arms. Something sharp and uncomfortable twisted in his chest. He forced a small smile and said, “Guess I missed the invite.”
Lina laughed, saying something about breakfast, already tugging Y/N up. Y/N rubbed her eyes, trying not to meet Hyuck’s gaze as she stretched.
But Hyuck’s mind was somewhere else entirely.
Are they dating? Does he like her? Does she like him?
He shook his head hard, trying to dismiss it. It wasn’t his business anymore.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
Breakfast was loud and cheerful — plates clinking, laughter echoing through the villa, Lina trying to feed Hyuck a piece of fruit while he pretended to protest. Y/N smiled along, but the pit in her stomach only grew heavier with every laugh.
She couldn’t do this anymore. The secret was pressing against her ribs like it wanted to claw its way out.
When Jaemin caught her gnawing at her nails, he frowned. “You okay?”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah—yeah, I just… need some air. Come for a walk with me?”
Jaemin’s eyes softened immediately. “Sure.”
Jeno, halfway through a mouthful of eggs, looked up. “Wait, can I come?”
Y/N smiled at him. “After you finish eating, okay?”
He grinned, determined, and took a comically huge bite that made Jaemin snort as they headed out.
The sun was high now, glimmering off the lake like a thousand tiny stars. They walked quietly for a while, Y/N kicking at the pebbles, Jaemin watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“Alright,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”
Y/N froze. For a long moment, she said nothing. Her throat was tight, words stuck like they were afraid to come out.
“I…” she started, then stopped. “Promise you won’t freak out.”
Jaemin arched a brow. “Y/N.”
She sighed, closing her eyes before blurting it out — the history, the breakup, the way Hyuck used to look at her, and the way it all fell apart. The tears she’d tried to bury in two years’ worth of pretending.
When she finished, Jaemin was silent, just staring at her with wide eyes. “Wait, wait—hold on. So Lina has no idea about your history with him?”
Y/N swallowed hard and shook her head. “None.”
He blinked, running a hand through his hair. “And… I have to ask—do you still have feelings for him?”
Y/N’s reaction was instant. “What? No! Of course not.”
Jaemin didn’t say anything. He just gave her a look — soft, but knowing. Like he could see right through her.
She turned away, blinking fast.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he said quietly, kicking at the dirt. “This is… I mean—you should tell Lina. Just be honest. She’ll understand.”
Y/N shook her head fiercely. “No. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Not telling her will hurt her more,” Jaemin said gently but firmly. “She’s your best friend. She’ll find out eventually, and it’ll be worse if it’s not from you.”
Her lip trembled. “Jaem…”
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her before she could say another word. “Hey. It’ll be okay. None of this is your fault, okay? And Lina will know that.”
Y/N let herself sink into his chest, eyes squeezed shut, tears dampening his shirt.
They stayed like that until footsteps approached. Jeno came jogging over, slightly out of breath. “Okay, I’m here—what did I miss?” he said, before noticing Y/N’s red eyes. “Oh. Crying? Who made my girl cry?”
Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Relax, hero. We’re fine.”
But Jeno just slung an arm around both of them, pulling them close. “Hey, you don’t need to cry. You’ve got me and this emotional support tree,” he said, patting Jaemin’s chest.
Y/N couldn’t help it—she laughed, muffled and wet, smacking his arm.
“I love you guys so much,” she said softly, hugging them both.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jeno teased, squeezing her. “We love you too. Now let’s go before Jaem starts crying too.”
“Hey—”
They walked back toward the villa with the sunlight on their backs, Y/N’s heart still heavy, but a little steadier.
------------------
The morning sun was soft and golden, the kind that made everything look like it belonged in a travel ad. The gang piled into the van after breakfast, buzzing with plans to explore the nearby town.
Jaemin had his camera slung around his neck, his excitement palpable. “Alright, everyone, I’m going full tourist mode today,” he declared. “Y/N, you’re my model. Come on, give me something.”
Y/N laughed, brushing hair from her face before striking a few ridiculous poses — peace signs, fake runway struts, pretending to hold the sun in her hand.
Jaemin laughed so hard he could barely hold the camera steady. “Okay, okay, that’s enough—actually, no, one more. Jeno, get in there!”
“Gladly,” Jeno said, jogging over and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s shoulders from behind. She squealed, laughing as Jaemin snapped a photo. The camera clicked a few times — the two of them mid-laugh, heads thrown back, sunlight haloing their faces.
They looked like a couple. Effortless. Happy.
Donghyuck’s jaw clenched so hard he thought he might crack a tooth.
He was standing off to the side, holding Lina’s phone as she scrolled through filters. “Can you take a few pictures of me?” she asked sweetly, handing it over.
“Yeah,” he murmured, barely glancing up from where Jeno was playfully tickling Y/N. His grip on the phone tightened.
Lina tilted her head. “You okay?”
He blinked, forcing a smile as if nothing had cracked in his chest. “Yeah, just—distracted. Sorry.”
She smiled softly, brushing it off. He held the phone up and snapped a few pictures, making her laugh with a silly grin before they took a selfie together — Lina kissing his cheek, him forcing an easy smile he didn’t feel.
But his eyes still flickered, just for a second, toward the sound of Y/N’s laughter echoing across the square.
They reached a hiking trail that wound up to a lookout point. The group spread out a little — Jaemin taking landscape shots, Jeno pointing out random wildflowers, Lina and Mark walking ahead.
Y/N walked close to Jeno, half to talk and half to avoid tripping on the rocky ground. She hated how clumsy she got in sandals.
“Careful,” Jeno warned, steadying her when she stumbled slightly.
She giggled. “See? You know me too well.”
Hyuck, walking just behind them, shoved his hands into his pockets. Every laugh between them twisted like a knife.
A few minutes later, as they crossed a narrow section of the path, Y/N’s foot slipped against loose gravel. She gasped, her arms flailing—
—and a pair of warm, familiar arms caught her.
“I got you,” a low voice murmured, close to her ear.
She froze. Her heart thudded once, hard.
It was the exact same tone, the same words, the same deep whisper he used to say when he’d hold her close in the dark — back when the world had felt smaller, simpler, safe.
Her breath caught, eyes darting up to meet his. Donghyuck’s hand was firm on her waist, his face only inches away, his gaze unreadable but heavy.
For one dizzying heartbeat, she didn’t move. She didn’t want to.
Then reality slammed back in.
“T-thanks,” she stuttered, pulling away quickly. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her.
Jeno turned around, frowning. “You okay?”
Y/N smiled too quickly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”
But she wasn’t.
Because for the first time in two years, it felt like the ground was slipping beneath her feet — and this time, no one could really catch her.
The sky was streaked with gold and rose as the sun dipped behind the lake, turning everything soft and unreal. Dinner was easy, familiar — Italian pizzas spread across the table, laughter echoing through the villa.
Jeno and Jaemin disappeared upstairs after eating, already arguing over which game to play first. Mark and Donghyuck lingered by the dining room window, talking quietly over leftover slices, their voices low and easy.
Outside, the evening air was cool. Y/N and Lina sat on the patio overlooking the lake, each with a glass of wine in hand. The breeze carried the faint scent of oregano and pine, the soft hum of cicadas filling the silence.
“This trip’s been so nice, hasn’t it?” Lina said, smiling into her glass. “Exactly what I needed.”
Y/N nodded, her smile small but genuine. “Yeah. It’s beautiful here.”
There was a pause — long enough for Y/N to start relaxing, to think maybe they could keep this bubble unbroken for a little longer — until Lina tilted her head, eyes glinting playfully.
“What do you think of Donghyuck?” she asked.
Y/N froze. The question hung between them like a blade.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Lina said, laughing softly. “You’ve barely talked to him. You don’t… not like him, do you?”
Y/N’s throat tightened. She shook her head too quickly. “No, no, of course not. I just—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Her hands trembled slightly as she set her glass down.
Now or never.
“Lina,” she said quietly. “I need to tell you something. I… wanted to wait until I could actually process it first, but I can’t keep it from you any longer.”
Lina blinked, lowering her glass. “Okay?”
“I had no idea Donghyuck was your boyfriend,” Y/N started, words tumbling out before she could lose her nerve. “But the truth is… I knew him from before. We met back in college.”
Lina exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “Oh,” she said with a small smile, visibly relieved. “That’s it? Did you guys not recognize each other at the airport until now?” She took another sip of wine, laughing lightly.
Y/N looked down. “No, we did. But…” She swallowed hard. “We weren’t just friends, Lina. We were together back then. Like—together together.”
The smile fell from Lina’s face instantly.
Her glass paused midair. “You and Donghyuck?” she said slowly, voice flat. “My boyfriend? You dated him?”
Y/N nodded, forcing herself to meet her eyes. “Yeah.”
Lina blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it. “Wait—I don’t understand. You dated my current boyfriend back in college? And you didn’t tell me until right now?”
Y/N’s chest ached. “I’ve been in shock since I saw him at the airport,” she said softly. “I just needed time to process my own feelings first. But now that I have, I had to tell you. I didn’t want to keep this from you.”
Lina set her wine glass down a little too hard, the sound sharp against the table. “What feelings did you have to process?” she asked, voice trembling now. “Do you still like him? Was it serious? Or did you just—” she swallowed, “—hook up?”
Y/N’s eyes burned, but her voice stayed steady. “We dated for three years,” she said quietly. “So… yeah. I guess it was pretty serious.”
The lake shimmered behind them, reflecting the last light of day — but the silence between them was heavy, unmoving.
Lina stared straight ahead, eyes wide and unfocused. The only sound was the soft clink of ice melting in her glass.
The question hit harder than Y/N expected.
“Well… why did you break up?”
The wine felt thick in her throat. She swallowed hard, staring at the lake as the memory burned its way up from where she’d buried it.
“We just weren’t the right fit,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t what he wanted. And he made that… very clear toward the end.”
Her voice cracked just slightly on clear, but she forced a smile anyway, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But it doesn’t matter, Lina. He’s with you now — and you’re the one he wants. I can see he loves you a lot. We broke up two years ago. It’s all ancient history.”
Y/N looked up and smiled — a small, trembling curve of her lips that she prayed looked convincing. “It’s all about you guys now. I’m happy for you. Really. I think you make him happy.”
Lina watched her for a long time, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. She exhaled slowly, setting her glass down.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “This is… still a bit weird, and I’ll need some time to process it. But as long as it’s in the past and you don’t still have feelings for each other, I guess it’s fine. We can all get along.”
Y/N nodded, relief flickering weakly in her chest.
Lina smiled faintly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Thanks for being honest. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
Y/N squeezed back, her throat too tight to speak.
When Lina stood, her chair scraped softly against the patio tiles. “I’m gonna go check on Hyuck,” she said lightly, gathering the empty plates.
Y/N stayed where she was, staring out at the lake — the rippling water reflecting the deep indigo sky — until she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her.
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Donghyuck sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, when Lina entered.
She smiled tiredly, setting her wine glass down on the nightstand before sitting beside him. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The air was heavy — soft music from the living room muffled through the walls.
“So…” she said finally, brushing hair behind her ear. “Y/N just told me about your history.”
Donghyuck froze mid-scroll, his thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, he looked up. “She told you?”
“Yeah,” Lina said, watching his expression carefully. “She mentioned you dated in college. She wanted to come clean. Is it not true?”
He blinked, caught between guilt and disbelief. “No—it’s true. I just… didn’t think she’d say anything. Not this soon.”
Lina tilted her head. “Why? Were you planning to tell me yourself?”
He hesitated. “Eventually, maybe. I didn’t want to ruin the trip. Or make things weird between you two.”
“Well,” she said softly, “it’s already weird.”
Donghyuck sighed, setting his phone aside. “I know.”
There was silence again — the kind that filled every corner of the room.
Then Lina asked the question he’d been dreading. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were uncertain.
“Do you still have any feelings for her?”
Donghyuck looked at her. Really looked. The soft lamplight hit her face, highlighting every emotion she was trying to keep contained — confusion, jealousy, maybe even fear.
He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
“She’s part of my past,” he said finally, careful, quiet. “That’s all.”
But his voice wasn’t as sure as he wanted it to be.
“Why did you break up? Y/N was a bit vague—she didn’t really give me details,” Lina asked softly, tracing the rim of her wine glass.
Donghyuck’s expression hardened just enough to make her pause. “I was young and stupid,” he said after a beat. “I didn’t really know what I wanted. I mean, I knew, but… I don’t know.” He shrugged, forcing a chuckle. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. That’s the past. No point in rehashing it now. I’m with you, and that’s what matters.”
Lina tilted her head, unconvinced. “That’s the same vague answer she gave me, actually.”
His throat tightened.
“So you both broke up because… you weren’t in love anymore?” she asked carefully.
“No,” he said immediately, maybe a little too fast. “It wasn’t about that. We were just—growing in different directions, I guess. But now I know who I am, without her.”
Lina studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I get it. God knows I’ve broken up with people for the same reason.” Her voice softened. “Look, it’s still weird, but I love both of you so much, and I want you to get along. You’re the best things that have ever happened to me. There’s no bad blood, right?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back, briefly, then pulled her into a hug instead—arms tightening around her as if to reassure them both. But as he stared past her shoulder, all he could think about was the look on Y/N’s face when she said we were together back then.
And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his head.
------------------
The villa was quiet now, everyone finally asleep after a long day. The laughter from dinner, the clinking of glasses and late-night teasing, had faded into a soft, peaceful stillness.
But in one of the rooms, the silence was broken by the sound of a small sneeze. Then another. Then a groan.
“God, this carpet,” Lina muttered, rubbing her nose furiously. “I think I’m allergic or something. It’s making me crazy.”
From beside her, Donghyuck stirred, still half-asleep. “What? Allergic?” he mumbled, voice rough.
“I can’t stop sneezing, Hyuck,” she whined, grabbing a tissue. “I swear it’s the carpet. I feel itchy all over, my throat’s closing up, my nose—” she sniffled miserably.
He sat up, blinking blearily in the dark. “Do you want me to open the window?”
“I tried that,” she said, already getting up. “It’s not helping. I can’t stay here tonight, it’s driving me insane.”
“Where are you going to sleep then?” he asked, confused.
“I’ll crash in Y/N’s room,” she decided, already pulling her blanket and pillow into her arms. “Her room doesn’t have carpet—maybe it’ll help. You stay here, okay?”
“Lina—”
She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine. You need your rest. I’ll come back in the morning.”
And just like that, she slipped out the door, the soft patter of her bare feet fading down the hallway.
Donghyuck lay back down, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before sighing. He could still smell her shampoo on the pillow beside him, but without her body next to his, the bed suddenly felt colder.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Y/N had just finished brushing her teeth when Lina appeared in the doorway, sniffling.
“Lina?” Y/N asked, startled.
“Hey, um… sorry to barge in, but can I sleep here tonight? That stupid carpet in our room is making me break out or something. I swear I’m allergic.”
“Oh my god, of course,” Y/N said immediately, stepping aside. “Come in.”
“Thanks, babe.” Lina smiled weakly, tossing her blanket over Y/N’s bed and settling in. “You’re an angel.”
Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Just get some rest.”
But as Lina snuggled into the sheets and quickly drifted off, Y/N stood there awkwardly, realizing she no longer had anywhere to sleep with her taking up all the space.
Her eyes flicked to the couch in the living room through the open door.
“Perfect,” she whispered dryly to herself.
She grabbed a thin throw blanket and a pillow, padding quietly to the couch. The villa was dim, the only light spilling in from the moon reflecting off the lake. She lay down, curled up under the blanket, and tried to close her eyes.
But her mind wouldn’t quiet. Not after the last few days. Not with him under the same roof again.
She turned on her side, staring out the glass doors toward the faint shimmer of water under moonlight. She tried to focus on her breathing. One, two, three—
The creak of a door broke the silence.
Her heart jumped. She turned, expecting maybe Jaemin sneaking out for a snack—but froze when she saw the silhouette in the hallway.
He stepped into the soft light, and her chest constricted.
Donghyuck.
His hair was mussed, eyes still adjusting to the dimness, and he was holding his phone and a half-crushed cigarette box in one hand. His shirt clung to his frame, the faint scent of smoke still trailing behind him.
When his gaze found her, surprise flickered across his face.
“Y/N?” he said quietly. “Why are you sleeping out here?”
She turned on her back, trying to sound nonchalant. “Lina couldn’t handle the carpet in your room. She said she was allergic, so she’s in mine for the night.”
“Oh.” He blinked, guilt flashing across his features. “Right. She mentioned the dust earlier.”
“So, I’m here,” Y/N added softly, gesturing at the couch.
He frowned. “You should’ve taken my bed. I could’ve slept here.”
She shook her head, pulling the blanket tighter. “It’s fine, Hyuck. Just go to sleep.”
He hesitated. “You sure?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated firmly.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “You always say that,” he murmured.
Her eyes snapped to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and familiar.
He finally sighed and sank down onto the couch across from hers, elbows on his knees. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he admitted after a pause. “Guess we’re both restless.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, voice softer now. “Guess we are.”
The moonlight poured through the window, catching in his hair, outlining the curve of his jaw. She looked away quickly, staring at the lake instead.
They didn’t say another word.
But even from opposite couches, Y/N could feel the electricity between them—the unspoken words, the old ache, the impossible closeness of being this near to someone she once loved.
And somewhere between the rhythm of their quiet breathing and the sound of the lake outside, she realized this trip was going to be harder than she ever imagined.
The villa was quiet, moonlight spilling through the tall windows and painting soft silver across the couch where Y/N lay curled beneath a thin blanket. Her body ached for rest, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing — flashes of old memories, of laughter, of words that had cut too deep.
She almost didn’t hear the door open, the soft creak barely louder than her own shallow breathing.
“Y/N?”
Her eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice. Donghyuck stood near the entryway, hair slightly tousled, a faint scent of smoke still clinging to his clothes. He must’ve gone out for a cigarette.
“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked quietly, stepping closer.
“Lina can’t stay still,” she murmured, keeping her voice small, her back still to him. “She’s allergic to the carpet in your room, so she’s in mine. I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so… couch it is. Goodnight, Hyuck.”
For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then she heard his sigh, the soft shuffle of his feet against the tile.
“You take my room,” he said after a moment. “I’ll sleep here.”
She turned slightly, enough to see him standing there — the concern written plainly across his face. “It’s fine,” she whispered. “You don’t have to—”
“Y/N.” His tone was firmer now, familiar in a way that made her chest tighten. “I’m not letting you sleep out here. Go.”
She hesitated, eyes searching his, but the sincerity there made her heart twist. “Still stubborn for my comfort,” she murmured under her breath, and the corner of his mouth lifted just a little — the smallest ghost of a smile.
But then, his expression softened into something heavier, almost vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”
“For making you cry earlier. And for… bringing up the past like that. It wasn’t fair.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “I just— I still can’t stand seeing you cry, you know?”
Her chest ached at the confession.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Our breakup was the hardest thing I ever went through. It took me a long time to put myself back together. I understand now why you did it, but it doesn’t change how much it hurt. And maybe that’s why I said what I did. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.” His voice cracked slightly at the end. “But that was a cheap shot. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t want to be something you regret.”
Y/N swallowed hard, her throat burning as she sat up slowly. “I could never regret our relationship, Hyuck,” she said softly. “It hurt me too. Just because I was the one who ended it doesn’t mean it’s what I wanted.”
Something fragile passed between them then — a stillness full of everything they hadn’t said in years. His eyes met hers, full of old pain and something even older: love.
Donghyuck took a deep breath, forcing a small, tired smile. “Go sleep in my room, Y/N. Please. I’ll stay here.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, quietly, she nodded. “Okay.”
As she walked past him toward the hallway, her shoulder brushed his chest. Warm, familiar. Just like before.
And when she disappeared into his room, Donghyuck stood there for a moment, staring at the couch — the ghost of her touch still lingering on his arm, the words she’d said echoing in his chest like a heartbeat he hadn’t realized he still carried.
---------------------
Morning light spilled through the linen curtains, soft and golden, creeping across the bed where Y/N lay tangled in sheets that weren’t hers. She stirred faintly, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to the pillowcase. Donghyuck’s scent.
The door swung open.
“Y/N?”
Lina stood frozen in the doorway, blinking in confusion at the sight before her. Y/N pushed herself up on her elbows, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Oh— hey,” Y/N said, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry. I crashed here last night. The couch wasn’t exactly comfortable.”
Lina blinked again, the pieces slowly connecting. “Wait… if you’re in here…”
She turned sharply and left before Y/N could respond, heart pounding as she padded down the hall. The living room came into view, and there he was—Donghyuck—lying on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, still asleep.
Her chest tightened. He’d given Y/N his bed.
Would he have done that for anyone? Or was it… because it was her? Because some part of him still cared?
She stood there for a long moment, her eyes drifting to the phone sitting loosely in his hand, screen dark and unguarded. Something twisted in her stomach—guilt, insecurity, fear.
She hated that she was even thinking it. But she couldn’t stop herself.
Quietly, she crouched beside him, making sure his breathing stayed slow and even. She carefully lifted his phone, holding her breath as she pressed her thumb to the side. It unlocked instantly.
Her pulse quickened.
She went to his messages first—nothing. No saved thread with Y/N, not even a contact under her name. She checked his call history—still nothing. His socials? He didn’t follow her. No DMs, no likes, no trace. It was as if he’d scrubbed her existence completely.
But something about that felt too clean.
She opened his camera roll next, scrolling quickly through hundreds of pictures—mostly landscapes, food, his friends. Nothing suspicious. Until she reached the albums.
There it was.
A locked folder. Marked with a single yellow heart emoji.
Over 3,400 photos.
200 videos.
Her stomach dropped.
It had to be her. Y/N. Who else would he hide behind a password?
Her thumb hovered over the album, her chest tight, tears already threatening to form.
Just then, a voice cut through the silence.
“What are you doing?”
She froze.
Donghyuck was sitting up now, voice still rough with sleep, eyes dark and sharp as they locked on the phone in her hand.
“I—” she stammered, guilt flooding her face. “I’m sorry, I just—”
He stood up, snatching the phone from her grasp before she could finish. His expression hardened, the easy gentleness from last night gone in an instant.
“Obviously,” he said quietly, bitterness lacing his tone, “you don’t trust me.”
Lina’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Hyuck, it’s not—”
“Not what?” he snapped, jaw tightening. “You went through my phone while I was asleep, Lina. What did you think you’d find?”
Her voice trembled. “I don’t know. You gave her your bed, and I just— it felt strange, and I—”
“Because I was trying to be decent,” he interrupted, voice rising slightly before softening. “She was sleeping on the couch. You were in her room. What did you want me to do?”
She blinked back tears, whispering, “I just… needed to know if you still loved her.”
For a moment, the air went still. His grip on the phone tightened.
Then, quietly—too quietly—he said, “You shouldn’t have looked.”
He turned away, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. The look in his eyes wasn’t anger anymore. It was disappointment. Sadness. A quiet ache that made her chest hurt even more.
Lina stood frozen in place, guilt and panic eating away at her.
Because even though he never confirmed it—he didn’t need to.
The silence between them said everything.
The air between them was tense, sharp enough to cut through.
“I had to look,” Lina finally said, her voice trembling but steady enough to make him pause. “Because I know you’re not being honest with me. Maybe not lying outright—but not telling me everything either.”
Donghyuck exhaled, shaking his head. “Lina, you shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I should. Because something’s off, Hyuck. You’re different around her. I see the way you look at her. The way you go quiet when she’s in the room, the way your whole body tenses up if someone even mentions her name. You can’t tell me that’s nothing.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t say it was nothing.”
“Then what is it?”
He hesitated, eyes dark and conflicted. For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of the waves outside hitting the shore. Then, finally—
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I was in love with her.”
Lina’s throat constricted, but he kept going before she could speak.
“I’ll always care about her. You don’t spend three years with someone and just switch that off. But she gave up on us, Lina. She ended it. And when she did… it hurt like hell. It broke something in me. But it’s over.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, Lina saw the truth in his eyes—how much it still haunted him.
She swallowed, voice coming out soft. “But… do you want it to be?”
He blinked, staring at her like she’d spoken another language. “What?”
“Do you want it to be over?” she repeated, barely above a whisper.
Donghyuck groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Why are you asking me hypothetical questions? I’m with you, Lina.”
She scoffed, a small bitter laugh escaping. “Well, it doesn’t really feel like it. Because you keep dodging every question I ask. And honestly?”—her voice broke—“it sounds like you’re just settling for me because you can’t have the person you really want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No? Then answer this—why do you still have a saved album of her? Why keep thousands of photos if you’re so over her?”
He froze, lips parting but no words coming out. She watched the guilt flash in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly, and she knew—she was right.
“Because she’s the love of my life,” he said finally, the words escaping like a confession he’d been holding for years.
Lina’s heart sank, her vision blurring.
Donghyuck’s voice cracked, raw and broken. “And I was a young, stupid idiot who thought I could have it all. The career I wanted, the love of my life—I thought if I worked hard enough, I could build us a perfect future. I wanted to give her a ring. A big house. A life she’d never have to worry in again.”
He let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize that while I was building our future, our presentwas falling apart. She was lonely, scared. And I wasn’t there. I kept saying I was doing it for us, but it didn’t matter because she just needed me. And I wasn’t there.”
He swallowed hard, his voice lowering to a whisper. “The night she broke up with me, she was crying. Sobbing. Saying she couldn’t do it anymore, that she didn’t feel seen, that she needed someone who would be there for her. I can’t stand to see her cry, Lina. I thought I was the reason she was unhappy. So I just… let her go.”
He looked down, shaking his head. “Are you happy now? You have the whole damn story.”
Lina was silent, trembling, tears spilling before she could stop them.
“I’m not a villain for trying to move on,” Donghyuck said softly, almost pleading. “But there are some memories even I refuse to delete. I haven’t even looked at that photo album since we broke up. But I won’t delete it. Not because I’m holding on, but because it’s a part of me. A part of who I was. Who I am.”
His voice cracked again, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The room felt impossibly small—filled with everything that had been said and everything that couldn’t be unsaid.
Lina finally nodded, her heart aching. “I just… I wish you could love me the way you loved her.”
He looked at her, guilt etched across his face. “I do love you, Lina.”
But even as he said it, they both knew it wasn’t the same.
Donghyuck’s heart was pounding in his chest. The silence after his confession was deafening. Lina stood in front of him, eyes glassy but steady, breathing through the kind of pain that came from finally accepting the truth you’d been trying to ignore.
She swallowed hard, voice trembling but clear.
“Well… we’re over, Hyuck.”
He blinked, his lips parting, but no sound came out.
“I won’t settle for being someone’s second choice,” she continued, her tone soft but unflinching. “You just called her the love of your life. She’s already in the next room, sleeping in your bed. If you want her, go get her.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she didn’t let him.
“You’re right,” Lina said, tears slipping down her cheeks as she tried to smile through it. “You’re not the villain for trying to move on. But I won’t be the villain either—for getting in between you two. Because that’s what I feel like right now. The obstacle in a story that was already written before I even showed up.”
Her voice broke, but she forced herself to keep going. “And for what it’s worth, she’s not over you either. She’s my best friend, Hyuck. I know her better than anyone. And I’ve never seen her react to anyone the way she reacts to you. You just have to look at her once and she’s completely undone. She can’t even say your name without her voice changing.”
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You have three years of history that I can’t compete with. And I refuse to compete. I just wish…”—her voice wavered—“I just wish you both could’ve been honest with your feelings a bit sooner. Because standing here right now, I feel so damn stupid for being in the dark all this time.”
Donghyuck’s throat burned, guilt flooding his face. “Lina, I—”
But she stepped back, cutting him off. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. It won’t fix anything.”
She took a deep breath, looking at him one last time. “I can’t stay here with you two, not knowing what’s still between you. I can’t share this space with ghosts you both clearly still live with. So I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving tonight.”
Her voice cracked at the end, but she didn’t let herself falter. “We’re through.”
Donghyuck just stood there, frozen, chest aching, unable to find the right words.
Lina wiped at her tears roughly and gave him a small, tired smile. “I hope you two sincerely have a nice life together.”
She turned before he could stop her, walking to their shared room, the echo of her footsteps painfully loud.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, Donghyuck couldn’t move. He just stared at the empty hallway, the weight of everything pressing down on him—his guilt, his memories, the faint scent of her perfume still hanging in the air.
And then—silence.
When Lina opened the door to their room, it was empty. Y/N’s suitcase was gone. The bed where she’d slept was perfectly made, the sheets smooth and untouched.
Her stomach dropped.
No note. No sound. No trace.
Just the quiet realization that Y/N, too, was gone.
---------------------
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The airport buzzed with laughter, the kind that only comes from people who’ve been waiting for this trip for months. Someone was already talking about which beaches to hit first, someone else about the rooftop bars and the boat parties.
Y/N rolled her suitcase toward the group, sunglasses perched on her head, linen shirt fluttering in the breeze sneaking through the open doors. Greece smelled like salt and sunscreen and something close to freedom. She smiled to herself — she needed this. A week away from work, from routine, from anything that reminded her of him.
“Okay, everyone’s here!” Lina chirped, her excitement contagious. She was practically vibrating as she checked her phone again. “He’s outside waiting for us!”
“He?” Mark teased, grinning as he bumped her shoulder. “The mysterious boyfriend you’ve been hiding from us?”
Lina only giggled, cheeks pink. “You’ll see.”
Y/N smirked, tugging her tote higher on her shoulder. “Finally, we get to meet the man who stole our girl.”
Lina laughed again but didn’t answer — she was already darting toward the sliding glass doors, suitcase rolling behind her. The rest of them followed, still joking, still unaware that the air was about to shift.
And it did. The second Y/N stepped into the sun and saw him.
Her heart stopped.
Then dropped.
Donghyuck.
He stood near a white rental van, tan skin glowing against a loose white button-up, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair darker and messier than she remembered. Two years had passed, but God — he still looked like every memory she tried to forget. The same smirk shape to his lips, though right now it was gone, replaced by wide eyes as Lina sprinted into his arms.
“Oh my god, baby!” Lina squealed, jumping on him. He caught her easily, laughing softly — and then his gaze lifted.
Straight to Y/N.
It was like the world tilted. For a second, he just stilled, arms still around Lina, every muscle in his body locking up. His smile faded, replaced by shock — and something else. Something that looked too close to ache.
Y/N’s lungs burned.
No one knew. Not a single person in this group had any idea.
She’d dated him for three years. Three years of coffee runs, road trips, late-night fights, and mornings where she thought they’d last forever. Three years of love and chaos and him calling her his whole damn world — until they weren’t.
And now… he was Lina’s boyfriend.
Lina turned toward the group, still holding onto his arm. “Everyone, this is Hyuck!” she beamed. “Hyuck, this is everyone — Mark, Jaemin, Jeno, Y/N—”
Y/N.
The sound of her name broke something open in the air.
Donghyuck’s throat bobbed. For a second, he didn’t move — didn’t breathe. Then, as if forcing himself, he extended a hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice rougher than she remembered.
Y/N’s fingers trembled as she reached for his. Her pulse thundered against her ribs, her smile too bright, too sharp. “Nice to meet you too.”
Their hands met. Skin on skin.
And it hit them both — that familiar spark, the kind that used to feel like home.
She pulled back instantly, almost like it burned.
Jaemin, ever the oblivious peacekeeper, threw an arm around her shoulders, grinning wide. “This trip’s gonna be fun, huh?”
Y/N forced a laugh, but her eyes flicked one last time to Donghyuck. He was still staring.
And from the way his jaw clenched — she knew.
He wasn’t ready for this either.
The summer heat hit like a furnace the second they stepped outside. The van was a toaster in the sun, the air thick with sunscreen and the smell of blooming olive trees.
Hyuck rolled up his sleeves, helping Mark and Jaemin load bags into the trunk, his movements quick and practiced. He was talking — laughing, even — but his voice didn’t sound like him. Not really.
Y/N tried to lift her own suitcase, but before she could swing it up, Hyuck was there.
“I got it,” he said quietly.
“It’s fine, I can—”
“I said I got it.”
Their fingers brushed when he took the handle from her. Her breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, they both froze — the air between them humming with something too familiar. Then he looked away, sliding the suitcase into the van like it was nothing.
She swallowed hard. “Thanks.”
His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t answer.
Lina appeared a second later, throwing her arms around him from behind. “You’re so helpful baby,” she giggled.
He smiled — or tried to. But it was stiff, his body not quite moving with hers. Y/N saw the faraway look in his eyes before he blinked it away, nodding absently as Lina kissed his shoulder.
“Alright, everyone in!” Mark called out, already climbing into the front passenger seat.
Y/N slipped into the van, settling into the second row by the window. She closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her forehead, trying to breathe. The hum of conversation blurred around her — Jaemin cracking a joke, Jeno teasing Mark about his playlist, Lina’s laugh cutting through everything.
She didn’t open her eyes again, even when she felt it — his gaze.
Through the rearview mirror, Hyuck’s eyes found her reflection. He lingered there, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel, the curve of his mouth unreadable.
He shouldn’t have looked.
But he couldn’t not.
For almost two hours, the van rolled through winding roads, golden hills fading into lush countryside. The group sang, argued over snacks, pointed out random goats. Y/N stayed quiet, pretending to nap while her mind screamed.
Her ex — her college boyfriend, her first love — was Lina’s boyfriend.
And now she was stuck with him in Greece. For the summer.
--------------------
They finally reached it — a sun-drenched villa perched above a lake so blue it looked unreal. The tiny town nearby shimmered in the distance, roofs terracotta against endless sky.
Everyone tumbled out of the van, immediately gasping and cheering.
“Holy crap, Hyuck, this place is insane!” Jeno said, spinning in a slow circle.
“Your cousin’s rich rich,” Mark added, eyes wide as he took in the white stucco walls and blooming bougainvillea.
Hyuck just smiled faintly. “Yeah. He said we could use it for the summer, so… make yourselves at home.”
He began unloading the bags, one by one — including hers. He didn’t ask where it went; somehow, he remembered she always preferred rooms with a view. When he carried her luggage upstairs, the large window overlooking the lake glowed gold with sunset.
She turned, startled, as he set it down gently by the bed.
“Thanks,” she said again, softer this time.
He nodded, eyes flicking around the room once before stepping back. “You got the best view,” he murmured.
“I guess being the only girl other than Lina has its perks.”
Downstairs, the boys groaned in protest when they saw the layout.
“Wait, wait, wait— Y/N gets her own room?” Jaemin complained.
Jeno threw an arm over her shoulder dramatically. “Unfair. I’m calling it now — I’m sneaking in tonight and stealing her bed.”
Everyone laughed, even Y/N, nudging him off with a grin.
Everyone except Hyuck.
He stood by the door, one hand still gripping his water bottle, eyes on Jeno’s arm draped casually over her shoulders. His jaw worked once, then he looked away quickly, forcing a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Everyone settle in. We’ll unpack, grab dinner in town later. Just… relax.”
Y/N nodded absently, watching him disappear down the hall with Lina clinging to his arm.
The sunset glowed across the lake, and for a moment, she thought about how it used to feel — him carrying her bags into their shared dorm after long trips, him brushing her hair out of her face, him smiling like she was the only one he saw.
Now he wouldn’t even meet her eyes.
---------------
The villa was quiet by the time the sun began to set.
Someone had drawn the curtains in the living room, soft snores coming from Mark and Jaemin tangled on the couch.
Jeno was asleep half-sitting against the wall, and Lina had curled into Hyuck’s side upstairs, mumbling something about “just ten minutes” before drifting off completely.
But Y/N couldn’t sleep.
She’d tried — closed her eyes, turned on her side, even counted waves lapping against the shore — but her mind wouldn’t quiet. It kept circling back to the way he’d looked at her earlier, the brief, stunned silence between them, the ache she’d felt all over again.
When the sky turned the color of honey and flame, she gave up and slipped outside.
The air was cooler now, brushing against her skin as she walked down the path toward the lake. The water shimmered like glass, the surface catching the sunset in ripples. She found a small bench near the dock and sat down, exhaling slowly.
It was beautiful.
And it hurt.
She stared at the reflection of the sky on the lake until she heard it — quiet footsteps crunching against the gravel.
Her chest tightened before she even turned.
Donghyuck.
He looked different in the fading light — softer somehow, hair tousled, the collar of his shirt undone. He stopped beside the bench, hesitating for a beat before speaking.
“Can I sit?”
She nodded wordlessly.
He lowered himself beside her, a careful space between them, hands clasped loosely in his lap. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The cicadas hummed, the sun dipped lower, and the world felt suspended — like the universe was holding its breath.
Finally, he broke the silence.
“Can we talk?”
Y/N turned to him, eyes cautious. “Yeah.”
He exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he started quietly. “Lina didn’t tell me who her friends were. And when I saw you at the airport, I—” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching humorlessly. “I thought I was dreaming.”
She nodded slowly. “I had no idea either. Lina never said a name, just that she had a boyfriend she wanted me to meet.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I figured.”
Silence again — heavy but not hostile.
Then, with a low sigh, he added, “For what it’s worth… I never would’ve even looked her way if I knew she was your best friend.” His voice softened, guilt threaded through every word. “I never wanted things to get this messy or complicated.”
Y/N’s throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, twisting her ring. “That means a lot,” she said softly. Then, forcing a small smile, she added, “And… I’m happy for you. Really. Lina’s great.”
Hyuck’s lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t say thank you, didn’t agree — just stared out at the lake, his expression unreadable.
After a long moment, he asked quietly, “Are you seeing anyone?”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “No. Not at the moment.”
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the horizon.
They talked a little after that. About work, about mutual friends, about how he’d moved cities for a while before coming back. It felt strange — familiar and foreign all at once. He still laughed the same, still tilted his head when he listened. But every time their eyes met, she felt that same sharp pull in her chest.
When their conversation finally slowed, Hyuck leaned back slightly, exhaling. “It’s been a long time,” he said quietly. “I know we had… hurt feelings back then. But maybe we could try to be...friends? Or at least friendly?”
Y/N hesitated.
Friends.
She didn’t want that. Didn’t know how to sit across from him, to pretend the years they spent loving each other meant nothing. But she also saw Lina’s smile in her mind — her best friend, happy and unsuspecting — and she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
So she nodded.
“Sure,” she said softly. “For Lina.”
He looked at her, relief flickering across his face. “Alright.”
The air settled again. Neither of them moved. The lake rippled gently under the last of the sun, painting their reflections in gold.
And there they sat — side by side, quiet, pretending that “alright” didn’t hurt as much as it did.
---------------
By the time everyone woke up, night had crept softly over the lake.
The villa glowed with warm light, the scent of roasted herbs and olive oil drifting through the open windows.
“Hyuck!” Mark called as he walked into the kitchen. “Dude, what is that smell? I’m starving.”
Hyuck looked up from the stove, a faint smile curving his lips. “Just something simple for the first night,” he said, brushing his hands on a towel. “Thought we’d start with Greek food—chicken souvlaki, lemon potatoes, tzatziki, all that.”
“Simple, he says,” Jaemin teased, peeking over his shoulder. “Looks like a five-star meal, chef.”
Lina wrapped her arms around Hyuck from behind, beaming. “You’re amazing,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It smells incredible.”
He smiled faintly, murmured a quiet thanks—but the moment her lips left his skin, his gaze drifted.
Straight to Y/N.
She froze for a heartbeat, pretending not to notice, then quickly busied herself helping Jeno set the table.
When everyone finally sat down outside under the string lights, the lake glimmering below, it almost felt perfect. The night hummed with cicadas, the air warm, laughter easy.
Hyuck placed the last dish in the center, the golden chicken steaming in the cool breeze. “Dig in,” he said, sitting beside Lina, who immediately piled food onto his plate.
Y/N took a piece of the chicken, forcing herself to act normal, to breathe, to smile. But the moment the first bite hit her tongue, everything inside her went still.
The flavor—lemon, garlic, rosemary—was his.
The same seasoning. The same faint char. The same warmth.
And suddenly, she wasn’t sitting by the lake anymore.
-----------------
College apartment.
Tiny kitchen. Smoke everywhere.
“Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re going to set off the alarm!”
“It’s fine! It’s fine—wait, okay, maybe not fine—”
The smoke detector blared to life, high-pitched and shrill. Y/N panicked, waving a towel frantically. “Open a window!”
Hyuck coughed, laughing helplessly as smoke billowed out of the pan. “I swear I followed the recipe—”
“Hyuck, it’s burning!”
She rushed forward, grabbing the pan with oven mitts and shoving it under running water. It hissed and spat, steam rising everywhere.
He was still laughing, leaning against the counter. “We’re a disaster.”
“You’re a disaster,” she shot back, but she was laughing too now, cheeks flushed.
He stepped closer, eyes softening as the noise died down. “You love it though.”
Before she could reply, his hands slid around her waist, pulling her close. He kissed her—deep, slow, tasting like smoke and laughter.
“Maybe we should just order food,” he murmured against her lips.
“Yeah,” she giggled, tugging him in again. “We should.”
----------------
The sound of Jaemin’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“Y/N?”
She blinked, choking slightly on her bite. “What?”
“You okay? You looked like you were about to die.”
“Yeah,” she rasped, grabbing her glass and taking a long drink of water, trying to drown the rush of memory. “Just… went down the wrong way.”
Jaemin chuckled, leaning closer. “Careful, or we’ll have to perform the Heimlich.”
She smiled weakly, and before she could reach for her napkin, he was already brushing his thumb over the corner of her lips. “You got sauce,” he said, grinning.
“Thanks,” she murmured, cheeks heating.
Neither of them noticed the way Hyuck’s eyes snapped to them.
The way his jaw tightened just slightly.
He looked away a second later, laughing at something Jeno said, pouring Lina more wine. But his movements were a little too controlled, his smile a little too smooth.
Around the table, the night melted into easy conversation. Mark and Jaemin argued about who’d get the biggest bed, Jeno and Hyuck traded music recommendations, Lina rested her head on Hyuck’s shoulder, giggling softly.
And Y/N? She smiled. Laughed when they did. Pretended her chest didn’t ache.
Hyuck fit in perfectly—like nothing was out of place.
But every now and then, when the light caught him just right, she’d see it. The same distant look from earlier. The one that said he was somewhere else entirely.
Probably with her.
Just like she was still somewhere with him.
--------------
The villa slept under a blanket of moonlight.
The laughter from dinner had long faded; the only sounds left were the steady hum of crickets and the faint splash of water against the dock.
But Y/N couldn’t sleep.
She’d been lying there for what felt like hours, the sheets twisted around her legs, the ceiling a blur above her. Her heart wouldn’t calm down — not after the way he’d looked at her, not after the way the food had brought everything back.
It was only the first day, and she already felt unravelled.
Finally, she gave up. Slipping into a cardigan, she padded barefoot through the quiet halls and out onto the patio. The night air was cool, the scent of pine and lake water sharp in her lungs. The moon hung huge above the hills, its reflection trembling across the dark water.
She almost felt calm — until she saw him.
A shadow near the railing, faint orange light flickering in the dark. Smoke curled up into the night, slow and lazy, catching the moonlight.
Her breath caught.
“Hyuck?”
He startled slightly, eyes still half-closed as he exhaled another stream of smoke. When he turned toward her, his expression softened, just a flicker.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.” Her gaze dropped to the cigarette between his fingers. “...I also didn’t know that you smoke now.”
He gave a small, tired laugh. “Yeah. Nobody does. Especially not Lina.”
She raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t know?”
He shook his head. “She’d hate it if she found out I started again.” He flicked the ash into a tray, glancing at her. “Do me a favor and keep this between us?”
Something bitter twisted in her chest.
“Another secret to keep from her. Great.”
His eyes lifted to hers, sharp this time, really looking at her. Up and down. “Don’t start with me,” he muttered. “I can deal with my stress however I want.”
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “You can do whatever you want. That’s what you do all the time anyway.”
That hit him.
He scoffed, exhaling hard through his nose. “Still as judgey as ever, huh?”
“Still as defensive as ever,” she shot back. “I just forgot how you always manage to make everything about you.”
“Funny,” he said, turning toward her fully now. “You’re the one who came out here to pick a fight.”
“I came out here for air,” she snapped. “Didn’t realize I’d be breathing in your bad habits too.”
“Wow,” he laughed without humor, flicking the cigarette away. “You really haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
The words hung there, cold and heavy, the silence after them sharper than any yell could’ve been.
And then — too quietly, too carelessly — he said it.
“Well, I’m not the one who ended the relationship.”
The air shifted.
Her throat closed up instantly, tears burning behind her eyes before she could even blink.
His face fell the second he saw them. “No, no, hey—” He stepped closer, panic flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean that, Y/N, I swear—don’t cry—”
She shook her head, stepping back quickly, voice trembling. “You know exactly why I did it. And you know it wasn’t my fault.”
“Y/N—”
But she was already turning, her tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks. She ran inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her, footsteps echoing up the stairs. Her bedroom door clicked a second later.
Outside, Hyuck stood frozen.
He ran a hand through his hair, his heartbeat loud in the quiet. He picked up the half-burned cigarette, staring at the glowing tip before bringing it to his lips again. The smoke curled upward, dissolving into the stars.
“Two years,” he whispered to no one.
He blinked hard, but it didn’t help. The sting behind his eyes stayed.
Some wounds just never learn to fade.
The villa was still quiet when Y/N stirred before dawn. Sleep hadn’t come easy; her mind wouldn’t stop replaying his words, his expression, the way his voice had cracked at the end. She turned over in her bed again and again before finally slipping out, padding barefoot down the hallway to the room Jaemin and Jeno shared.
They were both heavy sleepers. She hesitated at first, then quietly lifted the blanket and crawled in between them, sighing softly at the warmth. Jaemin stirred, blinking blearily.
“Y/N…? Is that you?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
She nodded, whispering, “Sorry to wake you. My room just… feels too big tonight.”
Jaemin didn’t even hesitate. He opened his arms, and she fit herself against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth was grounding, familiar. Her heart slowed. He rubbed her back lazily, half-asleep.
“You okay?” he mumbled.
She nodded against him. “Better now that I’m here with you.”
“Good,” he whispered, pressing his chin lightly to the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.”
They both drifted off like that, the sound of the sea outside the open window steady and calm.
When the knock came an hour later, it was soft at first, then louder. Jeno groaned, rolling over. Jaemin blinked awake just as the door creaked open and Lina’s bright voice filled the room.
“Guys—oh my god,” she gasped, then pouted dramatically. “You had a sleepover without me? No fair!”
Y/N blinked awake, still groggy, her cheek pressed against Jaemin’s chest. She laughed softly at Lina’s expression. “Come here, then,” she said, opening her arms. Lina didn’t need to be told twice — she crawled onto the bed, nestling beside Y/N, who hugged her close with a sleepy grin.
Across the room, Jeno sat up, yawning, rubbing the back of his neck before getting out of bed.
And that’s when Hyuck’s voice came from the doorway — low, uncertain.
“Morning.”
Lina smiled at him. “Morning! Look at them, they kicked me out of the cuddle party last night,” she teased, motioning toward Y/N and Jaemin’s messy bed.
Hyuck’s eyes flicked to Y/N before he could stop himself — her tousled hair, her sleepy smile, the way she was still half in Jaemin’s arms. Something sharp and uncomfortable twisted in his chest. He forced a small smile and said, “Guess I missed the invite.”
Lina laughed, saying something about breakfast, already tugging Y/N up. Y/N rubbed her eyes, trying not to meet Hyuck’s gaze as she stretched.
But Hyuck’s mind was somewhere else entirely.
Are they dating? Does he like her? Does she like him?
He shook his head hard, trying to dismiss it. It wasn’t his business anymore.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
Breakfast was loud and cheerful — plates clinking, laughter echoing through the villa, Lina trying to feed Hyuck a piece of fruit while he pretended to protest. Y/N smiled along, but the pit in her stomach only grew heavier with every laugh.
She couldn’t do this anymore. The secret was pressing against her ribs like it wanted to claw its way out.
When Jaemin caught her gnawing at her nails, he frowned. “You okay?”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah—yeah, I just… need some air. Come for a walk with me?”
Jaemin’s eyes softened immediately. “Sure.”
Jeno, halfway through a mouthful of eggs, looked up. “Wait, can I come?”
Y/N smiled at him. “After you finish eating, okay?”
He grinned, determined, and took a comically huge bite that made Jaemin snort as they headed out.
The sun was high now, glimmering off the lake like a thousand tiny stars. They walked quietly for a while, Y/N kicking at the pebbles, Jaemin watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“Alright,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”
Y/N froze. For a long moment, she said nothing. Her throat was tight, words stuck like they were afraid to come out.
“I…” she started, then stopped. “Promise you won’t freak out.”
Jaemin arched a brow. “Y/N.”
She sighed, closing her eyes before blurting it out — the history, the breakup, the way Hyuck used to look at her, and the way it all fell apart. The tears she’d tried to bury in two years’ worth of pretending.
When she finished, Jaemin was silent, just staring at her with wide eyes. “Wait, wait—hold on. So Lina has no idea about your history with him?”
Y/N swallowed hard and shook her head. “None.”
He blinked, running a hand through his hair. “And… I have to ask—do you still have feelings for him?”
Y/N’s reaction was instant. “What? No! Of course not.”
Jaemin didn’t say anything. He just gave her a look — soft, but knowing. Like he could see right through her.
She turned away, blinking fast.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he said quietly, kicking at the dirt. “This is… I mean—you should tell Lina. Just be honest. She’ll understand.”
Y/N shook her head fiercely. “No. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Not telling her will hurt her more,” Jaemin said gently but firmly. “She’s your best friend. She’ll find out eventually, and it’ll be worse if it’s not from you.”
Her lip trembled. “Jaem…”
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her before she could say another word. “Hey. It’ll be okay. None of this is your fault, okay? And Lina will know that.”
Y/N let herself sink into his chest, eyes squeezed shut, tears dampening his shirt.
They stayed like that until footsteps approached. Jeno came jogging over, slightly out of breath. “Okay, I’m here—what did I miss?” he said, before noticing Y/N’s red eyes. “Oh. Crying? Who made my girl cry?”
Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Relax, hero. We’re fine.”
But Jeno just slung an arm around both of them, pulling them close. “Hey, you don’t need to cry. You’ve got me and this emotional support tree,” he said, patting Jaemin’s chest.
Y/N couldn’t help it—she laughed, muffled and wet, smacking his arm.
“I love you guys so much,” she said softly, hugging them both.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jeno teased, squeezing her. “We love you too. Now let’s go before Jaem starts crying too.”
“Hey—”
They walked back toward the villa with the sunlight on their backs, Y/N’s heart still heavy, but a little steadier.
------------------
The morning sun was soft and golden, the kind that made everything look like it belonged in a travel ad. The gang piled into the van after breakfast, buzzing with plans to explore the nearby town.
Jaemin had his camera slung around his neck, his excitement palpable. “Alright, everyone, I’m going full tourist mode today,” he declared. “Y/N, you’re my model. Come on, give me something.”
Y/N laughed, brushing hair from her face before striking a few ridiculous poses — peace signs, fake runway struts, pretending to hold the sun in her hand.
Jaemin laughed so hard he could barely hold the camera steady. “Okay, okay, that’s enough—actually, no, one more. Jeno, get in there!”
“Gladly,” Jeno said, jogging over and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s shoulders from behind. She squealed, laughing as Jaemin snapped a photo. The camera clicked a few times — the two of them mid-laugh, heads thrown back, sunlight haloing their faces.
They looked like a couple. Effortless. Happy.
Donghyuck’s jaw clenched so hard he thought he might crack a tooth.
He was standing off to the side, holding Lina’s phone as she scrolled through filters. “Can you take a few pictures of me?” she asked sweetly, handing it over.
“Yeah,” he murmured, barely glancing up from where Jeno was playfully tickling Y/N. His grip on the phone tightened.
Lina tilted her head. “You okay?”
He blinked, forcing a smile as if nothing had cracked in his chest. “Yeah, just—distracted. Sorry.”
She smiled softly, brushing it off. He held the phone up and snapped a few pictures, making her laugh with a silly grin before they took a selfie together — Lina kissing his cheek, him forcing an easy smile he didn’t feel.
But his eyes still flickered, just for a second, toward the sound of Y/N’s laughter echoing across the square.
They reached a hiking trail that wound up to a lookout point. The group spread out a little — Jaemin taking landscape shots, Jeno pointing out random wildflowers, Lina and Mark walking ahead.
Y/N walked close to Jeno, half to talk and half to avoid tripping on the rocky ground. She hated how clumsy she got in sandals.
“Careful,” Jeno warned, steadying her when she stumbled slightly.
She giggled. “See? You know me too well.”
Hyuck, walking just behind them, shoved his hands into his pockets. Every laugh between them twisted like a knife.
A few minutes later, as they crossed a narrow section of the path, Y/N’s foot slipped against loose gravel. She gasped, her arms flailing—
—and a pair of warm, familiar arms caught her.
“I got you,” a low voice murmured, close to her ear.
She froze. Her heart thudded once, hard.
It was the exact same tone, the same words, the same deep whisper he used to say when he’d hold her close in the dark — back when the world had felt smaller, simpler, safe.
Her breath caught, eyes darting up to meet his. Donghyuck’s hand was firm on her waist, his face only inches away, his gaze unreadable but heavy.
For one dizzying heartbeat, she didn’t move. She didn’t want to.
Then reality slammed back in.
“T-thanks,” she stuttered, pulling away quickly. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her.
Jeno turned around, frowning. “You okay?”
Y/N smiled too quickly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”
But she wasn’t.
Because for the first time in two years, it felt like the ground was slipping beneath her feet — and this time, no one could really catch her.
The sky was streaked with gold and rose as the sun dipped behind the lake, turning everything soft and unreal. Dinner was easy, familiar — Italian pizzas spread across the table, laughter echoing through the villa.
Jeno and Jaemin disappeared upstairs after eating, already arguing over which game to play first. Mark and Donghyuck lingered by the dining room window, talking quietly over leftover slices, their voices low and easy.
Outside, the evening air was cool. Y/N and Lina sat on the patio overlooking the lake, each with a glass of wine in hand. The breeze carried the faint scent of oregano and pine, the soft hum of cicadas filling the silence.
“This trip’s been so nice, hasn’t it?” Lina said, smiling into her glass. “Exactly what I needed.”
Y/N nodded, her smile small but genuine. “Yeah. It’s beautiful here.”
There was a pause — long enough for Y/N to start relaxing, to think maybe they could keep this bubble unbroken for a little longer — until Lina tilted her head, eyes glinting playfully.
“What do you think of Donghyuck?” she asked.
Y/N froze. The question hung between them like a blade.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Lina said, laughing softly. “You’ve barely talked to him. You don’t… not like him, do you?”
Y/N’s throat tightened. She shook her head too quickly. “No, no, of course not. I just—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Her hands trembled slightly as she set her glass down.
Now or never.
“Lina,” she said quietly. “I need to tell you something. I… wanted to wait until I could actually process it first, but I can’t keep it from you any longer.”
Lina blinked, lowering her glass. “Okay?”
“I had no idea Donghyuck was your boyfriend,” Y/N started, words tumbling out before she could lose her nerve. “But the truth is… I knew him from before. We met back in college.”
Lina exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “Oh,” she said with a small smile, visibly relieved. “That’s it? Did you guys not recognize each other at the airport until now?” She took another sip of wine, laughing lightly.
Y/N looked down. “No, we did. But…” She swallowed hard. “We weren’t just friends, Lina. We were together back then. Like—together together.”
The smile fell from Lina’s face instantly.
Her glass paused midair. “You and Donghyuck?” she said slowly, voice flat. “My boyfriend? You dated him?”
Y/N nodded, forcing herself to meet her eyes. “Yeah.”
Lina blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it. “Wait—I don’t understand. You dated my current boyfriend back in college? And you didn’t tell me until right now?”
Y/N’s chest ached. “I’ve been in shock since I saw him at the airport,” she said softly. “I just needed time to process my own feelings first. But now that I have, I had to tell you. I didn’t want to keep this from you.”
Lina set her wine glass down a little too hard, the sound sharp against the table. “What feelings did you have to process?” she asked, voice trembling now. “Do you still like him? Was it serious? Or did you just—” she swallowed, “—hook up?”
Y/N’s eyes burned, but her voice stayed steady. “We dated for three years,” she said quietly. “So… yeah. I guess it was pretty serious.”
The lake shimmered behind them, reflecting the last light of day — but the silence between them was heavy, unmoving.
Lina stared straight ahead, eyes wide and unfocused. The only sound was the soft clink of ice melting in her glass.
The question hit harder than Y/N expected.
“Well… why did you break up?”
The wine felt thick in her throat. She swallowed hard, staring at the lake as the memory burned its way up from where she’d buried it.
“We just weren’t the right fit,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t what he wanted. And he made that… very clear toward the end.”
Her voice cracked just slightly on clear, but she forced a smile anyway, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But it doesn’t matter, Lina. He’s with you now — and you’re the one he wants. I can see he loves you a lot. We broke up two years ago. It’s all ancient history.”
Y/N looked up and smiled — a small, trembling curve of her lips that she prayed looked convincing. “It’s all about you guys now. I’m happy for you. Really. I think you make him happy.”
Lina watched her for a long time, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. She exhaled slowly, setting her glass down.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “This is… still a bit weird, and I’ll need some time to process it. But as long as it’s in the past and you don’t still have feelings for each other, I guess it’s fine. We can all get along.”
Y/N nodded, relief flickering weakly in her chest.
Lina smiled faintly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Thanks for being honest. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
Y/N squeezed back, her throat too tight to speak.
When Lina stood, her chair scraped softly against the patio tiles. “I’m gonna go check on Hyuck,” she said lightly, gathering the empty plates.
Y/N stayed where she was, staring out at the lake — the rippling water reflecting the deep indigo sky — until she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her.
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Donghyuck sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, when Lina entered.
She smiled tiredly, setting her wine glass down on the nightstand before sitting beside him. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The air was heavy — soft music from the living room muffled through the walls.
“So…” she said finally, brushing hair behind her ear. “Y/N just told me about your history.”
Donghyuck froze mid-scroll, his thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, he looked up. “She told you?”
“Yeah,” Lina said, watching his expression carefully. “She mentioned you dated in college. She wanted to come clean. Is it not true?”
He blinked, caught between guilt and disbelief. “No—it’s true. I just… didn’t think she’d say anything. Not this soon.”
Lina tilted her head. “Why? Were you planning to tell me yourself?”
He hesitated. “Eventually, maybe. I didn’t want to ruin the trip. Or make things weird between you two.”
“Well,” she said softly, “it’s already weird.”
Donghyuck sighed, setting his phone aside. “I know.”
There was silence again — the kind that filled every corner of the room.
Then Lina asked the question he’d been dreading. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were uncertain.
“Do you still have any feelings for her?”
Donghyuck looked at her. Really looked. The soft lamplight hit her face, highlighting every emotion she was trying to keep contained — confusion, jealousy, maybe even fear.
He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
“She’s part of my past,” he said finally, careful, quiet. “That’s all.”
But his voice wasn’t as sure as he wanted it to be.
“Why did you break up? Y/N was a bit vague—she didn’t really give me details,” Lina asked softly, tracing the rim of her wine glass.
Donghyuck’s expression hardened just enough to make her pause. “I was young and stupid,” he said after a beat. “I didn’t really know what I wanted. I mean, I knew, but… I don’t know.” He shrugged, forcing a chuckle. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. That’s the past. No point in rehashing it now. I’m with you, and that’s what matters.”
Lina tilted her head, unconvinced. “That’s the same vague answer she gave me, actually.”
His throat tightened.
“So you both broke up because… you weren’t in love anymore?” she asked carefully.
“No,” he said immediately, maybe a little too fast. “It wasn’t about that. We were just—growing in different directions, I guess. But now I know who I am, without her.”
Lina studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I get it. God knows I’ve broken up with people for the same reason.” Her voice softened. “Look, it’s still weird, but I love both of you so much, and I want you to get along. You’re the best things that have ever happened to me. There’s no bad blood, right?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back, briefly, then pulled her into a hug instead—arms tightening around her as if to reassure them both. But as he stared past her shoulder, all he could think about was the look on Y/N’s face when she said we were together back then.
And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his head.
------------------
The villa was quiet now, everyone finally asleep after a long day. The laughter from dinner, the clinking of glasses and late-night teasing, had faded into a soft, peaceful stillness.
But in one of the rooms, the silence was broken by the sound of a small sneeze. Then another. Then a groan.
“God, this carpet,” Lina muttered, rubbing her nose furiously. “I think I’m allergic or something. It’s making me crazy.”
From beside her, Donghyuck stirred, still half-asleep. “What? Allergic?” he mumbled, voice rough.
“I can’t stop sneezing, Hyuck,” she whined, grabbing a tissue. “I swear it’s the carpet. I feel itchy all over, my throat’s closing up, my nose—” she sniffled miserably.
He sat up, blinking blearily in the dark. “Do you want me to open the window?”
“I tried that,” she said, already getting up. “It’s not helping. I can’t stay here tonight, it’s driving me insane.”
“Where are you going to sleep then?” he asked, confused.
“I’ll crash in Y/N’s room,” she decided, already pulling her blanket and pillow into her arms. “Her room doesn’t have carpet—maybe it’ll help. You stay here, okay?”
“Lina—”
She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine. You need your rest. I’ll come back in the morning.”
And just like that, she slipped out the door, the soft patter of her bare feet fading down the hallway.
Donghyuck lay back down, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before sighing. He could still smell her shampoo on the pillow beside him, but without her body next to his, the bed suddenly felt colder.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Y/N had just finished brushing her teeth when Lina appeared in the doorway, sniffling.
“Lina?” Y/N asked, startled.
“Hey, um… sorry to barge in, but can I sleep here tonight? That stupid carpet in our room is making me break out or something. I swear I’m allergic.”
“Oh my god, of course,” Y/N said immediately, stepping aside. “Come in.”
“Thanks, babe.” Lina smiled weakly, tossing her blanket over Y/N’s bed and settling in. “You’re an angel.”
Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Just get some rest.”
But as Lina snuggled into the sheets and quickly drifted off, Y/N stood there awkwardly, realizing she no longer had anywhere to sleep with her taking up all the space.
Her eyes flicked to the couch in the living room through the open door.
“Perfect,” she whispered dryly to herself.
She grabbed a thin throw blanket and a pillow, padding quietly to the couch. The villa was dim, the only light spilling in from the moon reflecting off the lake. She lay down, curled up under the blanket, and tried to close her eyes.
But her mind wouldn’t quiet. Not after the last few days. Not with him under the same roof again.
She turned on her side, staring out the glass doors toward the faint shimmer of water under moonlight. She tried to focus on her breathing. One, two, three—
The creak of a door broke the silence.
Her heart jumped. She turned, expecting maybe Jaemin sneaking out for a snack—but froze when she saw the silhouette in the hallway.
He stepped into the soft light, and her chest constricted.
Donghyuck.
His hair was mussed, eyes still adjusting to the dimness, and he was holding his phone and a half-crushed cigarette box in one hand. His shirt clung to his frame, the faint scent of smoke still trailing behind him.
When his gaze found her, surprise flickered across his face.
“Y/N?” he said quietly. “Why are you sleeping out here?”
She turned on her back, trying to sound nonchalant. “Lina couldn’t handle the carpet in your room. She said she was allergic, so she’s in mine for the night.”
“Oh.” He blinked, guilt flashing across his features. “Right. She mentioned the dust earlier.”
“So, I’m here,” Y/N added softly, gesturing at the couch.
He frowned. “You should’ve taken my bed. I could’ve slept here.”
She shook her head, pulling the blanket tighter. “It’s fine, Hyuck. Just go to sleep.”
He hesitated. “You sure?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated firmly.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “You always say that,” he murmured.
Her eyes snapped to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and familiar.
He finally sighed and sank down onto the couch across from hers, elbows on his knees. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he admitted after a pause. “Guess we’re both restless.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, voice softer now. “Guess we are.”
The moonlight poured through the window, catching in his hair, outlining the curve of his jaw. She looked away quickly, staring at the lake instead.
They didn’t say another word.
But even from opposite couches, Y/N could feel the electricity between them—the unspoken words, the old ache, the impossible closeness of being this near to someone she once loved.
And somewhere between the rhythm of their quiet breathing and the sound of the lake outside, she realized this trip was going to be harder than she ever imagined.
The villa was quiet, moonlight spilling through the tall windows and painting soft silver across the couch where Y/N lay curled beneath a thin blanket. Her body ached for rest, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing — flashes of old memories, of laughter, of words that had cut too deep.
She almost didn’t hear the door open, the soft creak barely louder than her own shallow breathing.
“Y/N?”
Her eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice. Donghyuck stood near the entryway, hair slightly tousled, a faint scent of smoke still clinging to his clothes. He must’ve gone out for a cigarette.
“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked quietly, stepping closer.
“Lina can’t stay still,” she murmured, keeping her voice small, her back still to him. “She’s allergic to the carpet in your room, so she’s in mine. I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so… couch it is. Goodnight, Hyuck.”
For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then she heard his sigh, the soft shuffle of his feet against the tile.
“You take my room,” he said after a moment. “I’ll sleep here.”
She turned slightly, enough to see him standing there — the concern written plainly across his face. “It’s fine,” she whispered. “You don’t have to—”
“Y/N.” His tone was firmer now, familiar in a way that made her chest tighten. “I’m not letting you sleep out here. Go.”
She hesitated, eyes searching his, but the sincerity there made her heart twist. “Still stubborn for my comfort,” she murmured under her breath, and the corner of his mouth lifted just a little — the smallest ghost of a smile.
But then, his expression softened into something heavier, almost vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”
“For making you cry earlier. And for… bringing up the past like that. It wasn’t fair.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “I just— I still can’t stand seeing you cry, you know?”
Her chest ached at the confession.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Our breakup was the hardest thing I ever went through. It took me a long time to put myself back together. I understand now why you did it, but it doesn’t change how much it hurt. And maybe that’s why I said what I did. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.” His voice cracked slightly at the end. “But that was a cheap shot. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t want to be something you regret.”
Y/N swallowed hard, her throat burning as she sat up slowly. “I could never regret our relationship, Hyuck,” she said softly. “It hurt me too. Just because I was the one who ended it doesn’t mean it’s what I wanted.”
Something fragile passed between them then — a stillness full of everything they hadn’t said in years. His eyes met hers, full of old pain and something even older: love.
Donghyuck took a deep breath, forcing a small, tired smile. “Go sleep in my room, Y/N. Please. I’ll stay here.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, quietly, she nodded. “Okay.”
As she walked past him toward the hallway, her shoulder brushed his chest. Warm, familiar. Just like before.
And when she disappeared into his room, Donghyuck stood there for a moment, staring at the couch — the ghost of her touch still lingering on his arm, the words she’d said echoing in his chest like a heartbeat he hadn’t realized he still carried.
---------------------
Morning light spilled through the linen curtains, soft and golden, creeping across the bed where Y/N lay tangled in sheets that weren’t hers. She stirred faintly, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to the pillowcase. Donghyuck’s scent.
The door swung open.
“Y/N?”
Lina stood frozen in the doorway, blinking in confusion at the sight before her. Y/N pushed herself up on her elbows, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Oh— hey,” Y/N said, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry. I crashed here last night. The couch wasn’t exactly comfortable.”
Lina blinked again, the pieces slowly connecting. “Wait… if you’re in here…”
She turned sharply and left before Y/N could respond, heart pounding as she padded down the hall. The living room came into view, and there he was—Donghyuck—lying on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, still asleep.
Her chest tightened. He’d given Y/N his bed.
Would he have done that for anyone? Or was it… because it was her? Because some part of him still cared?
She stood there for a long moment, her eyes drifting to the phone sitting loosely in his hand, screen dark and unguarded. Something twisted in her stomach—guilt, insecurity, fear.
She hated that she was even thinking it. But she couldn’t stop herself.
Quietly, she crouched beside him, making sure his breathing stayed slow and even. She carefully lifted his phone, holding her breath as she pressed her thumb to the side. It unlocked instantly.
Her pulse quickened.
She went to his messages first—nothing. No saved thread with Y/N, not even a contact under her name. She checked his call history—still nothing. His socials? He didn’t follow her. No DMs, no likes, no trace. It was as if he’d scrubbed her existence completely.
But something about that felt too clean.
She opened his camera roll next, scrolling quickly through hundreds of pictures—mostly landscapes, food, his friends. Nothing suspicious. Until she reached the albums.
There it was.
A locked folder. Marked with a single yellow heart emoji.
Over 3,400 photos.
200 videos.
Her stomach dropped.
It had to be her. Y/N. Who else would he hide behind a password?
Her thumb hovered over the album, her chest tight, tears already threatening to form.
Just then, a voice cut through the silence.
“What are you doing?”
She froze.
Donghyuck was sitting up now, voice still rough with sleep, eyes dark and sharp as they locked on the phone in her hand.
“I—” she stammered, guilt flooding her face. “I’m sorry, I just—”
He stood up, snatching the phone from her grasp before she could finish. His expression hardened, the easy gentleness from last night gone in an instant.
“Obviously,” he said quietly, bitterness lacing his tone, “you don’t trust me.”
Lina’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Hyuck, it’s not—”
“Not what?” he snapped, jaw tightening. “You went through my phone while I was asleep, Lina. What did you think you’d find?”
Her voice trembled. “I don’t know. You gave her your bed, and I just— it felt strange, and I—”
“Because I was trying to be decent,” he interrupted, voice rising slightly before softening. “She was sleeping on the couch. You were in her room. What did you want me to do?”
She blinked back tears, whispering, “I just… needed to know if you still loved her.”
For a moment, the air went still. His grip on the phone tightened.
Then, quietly—too quietly—he said, “You shouldn’t have looked.”
He turned away, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. The look in his eyes wasn’t anger anymore. It was disappointment. Sadness. A quiet ache that made her chest hurt even more.
Lina stood frozen in place, guilt and panic eating away at her.
Because even though he never confirmed it—he didn’t need to.
The silence between them said everything.
The air between them was tense, sharp enough to cut through.
“I had to look,” Lina finally said, her voice trembling but steady enough to make him pause. “Because I know you’re not being honest with me. Maybe not lying outright—but not telling me everything either.”
Donghyuck exhaled, shaking his head. “Lina, you shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I should. Because something’s off, Hyuck. You’re different around her. I see the way you look at her. The way you go quiet when she’s in the room, the way your whole body tenses up if someone even mentions her name. You can’t tell me that’s nothing.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t say it was nothing.”
“Then what is it?”
He hesitated, eyes dark and conflicted. For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of the waves outside hitting the shore. Then, finally—
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I was in love with her.”
Lina’s throat constricted, but he kept going before she could speak.
“I’ll always care about her. You don’t spend three years with someone and just switch that off. But she gave up on us, Lina. She ended it. And when she did… it hurt like hell. It broke something in me. But it’s over.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, Lina saw the truth in his eyes—how much it still haunted him.
She swallowed, voice coming out soft. “But… do you want it to be?”
He blinked, staring at her like she’d spoken another language. “What?”
“Do you want it to be over?” she repeated, barely above a whisper.
Donghyuck groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Why are you asking me hypothetical questions? I’m with you, Lina.”
She scoffed, a small bitter laugh escaping. “Well, it doesn’t really feel like it. Because you keep dodging every question I ask. And honestly?”—her voice broke—“it sounds like you’re just settling for me because you can’t have the person you really want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No? Then answer this—why do you still have a saved album of her? Why keep thousands of photos if you’re so over her?”
He froze, lips parting but no words coming out. She watched the guilt flash in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly, and she knew—she was right.
“Because she’s the love of my life,” he said finally, the words escaping like a confession he’d been holding for years.
Lina’s heart sank, her vision blurring.
Donghyuck’s voice cracked, raw and broken. “And I was a young, stupid idiot who thought I could have it all. The career I wanted, the love of my life—I thought if I worked hard enough, I could build us a perfect future. I wanted to give her a ring. A big house. A life she’d never have to worry in again.”
He let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize that while I was building our future, our presentwas falling apart. She was lonely, scared. And I wasn’t there. I kept saying I was doing it for us, but it didn’t matter because she just needed me. And I wasn’t there.”
He swallowed hard, his voice lowering to a whisper. “The night she broke up with me, she was crying. Sobbing. Saying she couldn’t do it anymore, that she didn’t feel seen, that she needed someone who would be there for her. I can’t stand to see her cry, Lina. I thought I was the reason she was unhappy. So I just… let her go.”
He looked down, shaking his head. “Are you happy now? You have the whole damn story.”
Lina was silent, trembling, tears spilling before she could stop them.
“I’m not a villain for trying to move on,” Donghyuck said softly, almost pleading. “But there are some memories even I refuse to delete. I haven’t even looked at that photo album since we broke up. But I won’t delete it. Not because I’m holding on, but because it’s a part of me. A part of who I was. Who I am.”
His voice cracked again, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The room felt impossibly small—filled with everything that had been said and everything that couldn’t be unsaid.
Lina finally nodded, her heart aching. “I just… I wish you could love me the way you loved her.”
He looked at her, guilt etched across his face. “I do love you, Lina.”
But even as he said it, they both knew it wasn’t the same.
Donghyuck’s heart was pounding in his chest. The silence after his confession was deafening. Lina stood in front of him, eyes glassy but steady, breathing through the kind of pain that came from finally accepting the truth you’d been trying to ignore.
She swallowed hard, voice trembling but clear.
“Well… we’re over, Hyuck.”
He blinked, his lips parting, but no sound came out.
“I won’t settle for being someone’s second choice,” she continued, her tone soft but unflinching. “You just called her the love of your life. She’s already in the next room, sleeping in your bed. If you want her, go get her.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she didn’t let him.
“You’re right,” Lina said, tears slipping down her cheeks as she tried to smile through it. “You’re not the villain for trying to move on. But I won’t be the villain either—for getting in between you two. Because that’s what I feel like right now. The obstacle in a story that was already written before I even showed up.”
Her voice broke, but she forced herself to keep going. “And for what it’s worth, she’s not over you either. She’s my best friend, Hyuck. I know her better than anyone. And I’ve never seen her react to anyone the way she reacts to you. You just have to look at her once and she’s completely undone. She can’t even say your name without her voice changing.”
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You have three years of history that I can’t compete with. And I refuse to compete. I just wish…”—her voice wavered—“I just wish you both could’ve been honest with your feelings a bit sooner. Because standing here right now, I feel so damn stupid for being in the dark all this time.”
Donghyuck’s throat burned, guilt flooding his face. “Lina, I—”
But she stepped back, cutting him off. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. It won’t fix anything.”
She took a deep breath, looking at him one last time. “I can’t stay here with you two, not knowing what’s still between you. I can’t share this space with ghosts you both clearly still live with. So I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving tonight.”
Her voice cracked at the end, but she didn’t let herself falter. “We’re through.”
Donghyuck just stood there, frozen, chest aching, unable to find the right words.
Lina wiped at her tears roughly and gave him a small, tired smile. “I hope you two sincerely have a nice life together.”
She turned before he could stop her, walking to their shared room, the echo of her footsteps painfully loud.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, Donghyuck couldn’t move. He just stared at the empty hallway, the weight of everything pressing down on him—his guilt, his memories, the faint scent of her perfume still hanging in the air.
And then—silence.
When Lina opened the door to their room, it was empty. Y/N’s suitcase was gone. The bed where she’d slept was perfectly made, the sheets smooth and untouched.
Her stomach dropped.
No note. No sound. No trace.
Just the quiet realization that Y/N, too, was gone.
---------------------
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summary: how would your neo bf react if you came home tipsy / drunk 👀
johnny ₊˚. ✧
he opens the door to the sound of your uncoordinated knocks and gives you a frowny smile. not that he’s disappointed at your state — more worried about the fact that you’re gonna feel this in the morning. he prepares a bowl and grabs you some water just in case.
“did you have a good time, honey?” “make sure you drink all of the water, okay?”
taeyong ₊˚. ✧
when you come home from the bar, taeyong is excited to see you. he wraps you up in a hug and you giggle dizzily into his shoulders. he tells you how he spent the night but doesn’t fail to let you that it can’t have been as much fun as whatever you were doing tonight. if it were up to him, he would have tagged along but alas; he understands the boundaries of having a friends only night.
“i’ve been thinking about you all night, i was getting lonely.” “you had fun right? i knew it.”
yuta ₊˚. ✧
when you get home yuta doesn’t even hear you come in, he comes to the kitchen to get a snack and there he sees you slumped against the counter. you may have drank a little too much. he pouts at you — he feels bad that you feel shitty, but selfishly, he’s also grateful for the opportunity to baby you. he gets you a bottle of water and invites you to curl up on his chest on the couch. rubbing your back and pressing a million kisses to your hair and forehead.
“aw, you drank to much, huh, princess?” “you can sleep it off on me and i’m sure you’ll feel better soon enough.” “you want a blanket or are you too warm.”
doyoung ₊˚. ✧
when he hears the racket you make on your way in, he swears he’s getting robbed. he tiptoes into the front room cautiously, only to be met with you looking sloppy as hell. then he rolls his eyes. you run to him, obviously, slinking your arms around his neck because he just looks so sweet and huggable. even after you startled him half to death out of his peaceful sleep. reluctantly, he returns your hug, because as much as he wants to stand on his annoyance, he could never stay mad at you.
“you scared the shit out of me.” “you’re okay, though? i’m glad you made it home okay.”
jaehyun ₊˚. ✧
after fiddling with the key at the door for god knows how long, you wobble into the house, humming a new song you shazamed in the club. jaehyun just watches with a smirk on his face. you’re trying to get through the house to change into sweats or pajamas or whatever but every once in a while, he very gently pokes at your shoulder to see you change the direction of your walking. he thinks messing with your drunk self is the funniest shit ever.
when jungwoo opens the door to you, he almost can’t believe what he’s seeing. he has only seen you with alcohol in your system like twice and you were hardly two drinks in on both occasions. this was a stark difference. you blinked up at him in a half-lidded stare, telling him you’re sooo tired and you’re never drinking again. he could only laugh. seeing you drunk was an experience in itself.
“omo…”
mark ₊˚. ✧
when you come home from your bottomless brunch with a dopey smile on your face and phone threatening to drop from your hand at any moment, mark knows exactly what went down. he’s stifling laughter watcing you verbalise your inner monologue and stumble on the way to grabbing some water. he can’t decide whether it’s the cutest or funniest thing. either way, he’s laughing at you. that is before he has to lock into his crazy reflexes and save your phone from smashing to pieces.
“ooh, someone had fun.” “hey, how many fingers am i holding up?”
haechan ₊˚. ✧
it’s around 10pm when you knock at the front door, you didn’t wanna stay out too late because you knew your man would miss you. that being said— you shouldn’t have been worrying about that tonight. he might as well have been there with you. similar to taeyong, haechan couldn’t stand the fomo, but instead of getting bored waiting, he decided to just have a party of his own and bust out the most expensive bottle of wine he could find.
“haechan, baby, why do you smell of alcohol?”
“why do you smell of alcohol?”
a/n; made this instead of securing my 8hrs sleep cs i’m a #youngho
┈୨୧┈ Give them reasons they CAN'T be together that aren't just manufactured drama. Not miscommunication. Not love triangles. Not arbitrary "I push people away" trauma with no real exploration. Give them REAL obstacles: they're on opposite sides of a conflict, timing is wrong, there are actual consequences to being together, they have incompatible life goals, there's a power imbalance they need to resolve first. The obstacles should be meaningful and require actual character growth to overcome, not just a conversation.
┈୨୧┈ Make the friendship foundation SO STRONG that readers ship them before the romance even starts. They should genuinely LIKE each other. They should have inside jokes. They should seek each other out just to hang out. They should trust each other. They should have fun together. When the romantic feelings start developing, it should feel like "oh no, I don't want to ruin this friendship" because the friendship is genuinely valuable. Readers should be able to believe they'd still choose to be in each other's lives even if romance never happened.
┈୨୧┈ Let the tension BUILD in layers over time. First they notice each other. Then they start seeking excuses to be near each other. Then they start getting jealous. Then they start having Moments. Then they start thinking about each other constantly. Then comes the almost-kisses. Then the accidental intimacy. Then the barely-hidden feelings. Each phase should have time to breathe before moving to the next level. Slow burn means SLOW - readers should be desperate for them to get together LONG before they actually do.
┈୨୧┈ Show how they change each other gradually. He starts smiling more because of her. She becomes braver because he believes in her. They adopt each other's habits and phrases. They start to see the world differently because of the other person's influence. Slow burn is about showing two people gradually becoming essential to each other's lives. They should be woven into each other's character development, not separate from it.
┈୨୧┈ Make the payoff WORTH the wait. After chapters or books of tension, the moment they finally get together should be EARNED and SATISFYING. A CONVERSATION where they're finally honest. A moment where they choose each other despite the obstacles. A confession that feels like a dam breaking. The first kiss should feel like the conclusion of a long journey and the beginning of something new. Readers have been waiting for this, so make it count. Make it feel like YES, THIS WAS WORTH IT.
-in which Jeno Lee needs a solution to his mother's matchmaking and you need a front-row view of your favorite artist
Part of the nct dream uni smau series. Can be read as a stand alone but I'd suggest reading at least one of the smau before
part five (last chapter)
Jeno stood in front of your dorm door. Flowers in one hand, your favorite chocolates tucked beside them. In his other hand, a bag of takeout and that cute mystery blind box he saw you eyeing at the shop the other day. The one you'd picked up, stared at for way too long, then put back with this sad little sigh. He'd gone back and spent a couple of bucks on them. Anything to see you smile.
His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. Why was he this nervous? It wasn't even a real relationship. But it felt real. Sure, he did this to get his mom off his back. She was going overboard. Anytime she would see a girl his age she tried playing cupid. But honestly? The whole point was just to have an excuse to talk to you. He didn't even like Ed Sheeran that much. He paid extra for those tickets from some junior just so he could have a reason to text you.
And now you were upset. Because of him. He messed things up, like he always does.
He sighed, raising his hand to knock, when he heard shuffling from the other side. He froze. Thumps, footsteps, something being knocked over, then a muffled giggle. And then a man's voice. It sounded kind of familiar. Low, like someone trying really hard to be quiet. Then he heard it. the soft sound of someone kissing. Followed by your voice.
"You have to leave... He'll be here any second. Do you want to get caught or what?"
Jeno's stomach dropped. His grip tightened around the flowers. Were you cheating on him? Was that why you got so mad when he crossed that boundary? Because there was someone else? Someone who got to hear you call them sweet things while he stood outside your door like an idiot holding gifts you probably didn't even want?
He was still lost in his thoughts when the door swung open. Your roommate stood there. Jisung's older sister. "Oh fuck, Jeno!" She laughed, but it sounded nervous. Her hand shot behind her, shoving someone back. "You scared me."
"Who are you hiding?" His voice came out smaller than he expected. Quieter. Like he didn't actually want to know the answer.
You suddenly appeared next to her, peeking over her shoulder. "Jeno-" Your eyes dropped to his hands. Then went wide. "You did not... Are these for me?"
"Are you cheating on me?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His voice cracked slightly. He felt like he might throw up. Why was this affecting him so much? This wasn't real. None of this was supposed to be real. "Just tell me, YN. Is this why you got upset when I called you-"
"No, Jeno... That's not-"
"Then who are you two hiding?"
"It's my boyfriend," your roommate finally said with a sigh, running a hand through her messy hair. "Look, Jeno... you know how Jisung gets. He's already upset that I haven't told him who I'm dating. And if you find out before he does? He'll be so pissy and you know just as well how hard it is to deal with sulky jisung... So that's why... we're trying to keep it quiet."
Jeno blinked. His brain was still catching up. "Oh." He felt his face go hot. Okay, that actually made sense. Your roommate's face was already flushed when she opened the door, and her lipstick was smudged, so yeah, she was probably just hiding her boyfriend. "I'm sorry..."
"No I'm sorry jeno I overreacted." You stepped out the door closing it behind you. He saw you sigh. Like you were trying to find words to describe what you were feeling. "It's hard for me to admit it okay... So bare with me. I just- fuck. I like you okay... And you're so attentive to everything I do. And you take care of me so well. And I just... I like you okay?! And it's so hard for me to... Be normal when you're calling me all these pet names and being so understanding with me."
Jeno just stared at you for a moment before he friend. His eyes crinkle the way they do like a cute puppy. "I... Wow... You like me? For real? I... I was thinking I hurt you... I... I like you so much yn... It was so hard for me to act like a fake boyfriend... I'm sorry I made you doubt and have such a hard time."
You stared at him for a while before throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled back laughing but holding you with his arms.
"I was so nervous... I literally had to go to the boys. Can you believe it? I took advice from fuck ass chenle and haechan on how to win you back... Hold on a second..." His eyes narrowed. "How did you know I was coming?"
"Huh?" You froze.
Because here was the thing. Jeno had mentioned it in the Dreamies group chat earlier. It was just them who knew he was headed over to your dorm. But he never texted you. Never called your roommate. So how did you both know he was going to be here any moment unless... All of his friends are dating... Wait. IS ONE OF THE GUYS CHEATING?! WHAT THE HELL!
"yn I didn't text you that I was coming over... How did you know I'd be here?" Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You gulped. "Yn... Who is your roommate dating? Is it one of the boys? yn they all have girlfriends... You know this... I can't... My friends... They can't be cheaters-" Jeno reached for the door knob.
"No jeno it's not-" you grabbed his hand.
"Oh, just fuck this-"
The door opened. The man behind the door stepped out with an exasperated sigh. He was slightly out of breath, his shirt a little wrinkled, and there was the faintest trace of pink lip gloss near his jaw.
Jeno stared at him. His brain short-circuited.
"RENJUN?!
previous - nct masterlist
Note: I knew it's a kinda cliffhanger ending. But bare with me. Because the next part will be on the renjun smau. So anyone who wants to be tagged comment here
Mark had to cast a spell with Doctor Strange to make sure everyone forgot he's Spiderman, including you, his girlfriend. Slowly but surely, you find your way back to each other.
18.2k, No smut, just fluff and angst. First person pov.
-----------------
Hi. You don’t know me, but you used to.
The first sentence in the letter always starts the same.
Hi. You don’t know me, but you used to.
Mark stares at the sentence until the ink bleeds slightly into the paper, his grip tightening without him realizing. The cheap desk in his one-bedroom apartment wobbles under his elbow. Outside, a siren wails somewhere in the city, fading into the hum of traffic and distant voices.
He exhales slowly.
Starts again.
Hi. You don’t know me but you used to. My name is Mark Lee—
The pen stops.
It always stops there.
Because what comes after that? How do you explain a life that technically never existed? How do you tell someone you were everything to them… without sounding like a stranger who’s lost his mind?
He crumples the paper, tossing it toward the overflowing bin. It misses. They always miss when he's like this.
The room is dim, lit only by a flickering lamp and the glow of the city sneaking through half-broken blinds. His Spider-Man suit hangs by the window, still slightly torn at the shoulder from earlier. He hasn’t had the energy to fix it yet.
He hasn’t had the energy for much of anything lately.
Except watching you.
You pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you walk down your street, the night air brushing cool against your skin. It’s quiet—too quiet, but not enough to make you afraid.
Just… aware.
There’s that feeling again.
Like someone’s there.
Not close enough to hear. Not close enough to see. But there.
Your steps slow for a second, eyes flicking behind you. Empty sidewalk. Parked cars. A streetlight buzzing softly.
You shake your head.
“Get it together,” you mumble to yourself.
And yet…
The feeling doesn’t go away.
From above, Mark doesn’t move.
Perched on the edge of the building across the street, he watches you walk—careful, steady, memorizing every small detail like he’s afraid the world might take this away too.
The way you tuck your hands into your sleeves.
The slight furrow in your brows when you think someone’s watching.
You always used to do that.
His chest tightens behind the mask.
“Yeah,” he whispers softly, voice barely audible under the fabric. “I’m here.”
You can’t hear him.
You’ll never hear him say your name the way he used to.
Not unless—
No.
He shuts the thought down immediately.
That choice is already made. There’s no undoing it. Not without risking everything all over again.
So he stays where he is.
Watching.
Waiting.
Protecting.
Always protecting.
You reach your door, fumbling slightly with your keys. For a brief second, you pause—glancing over your shoulder again. Your eyes scan the empty street, lingering just a little longer this time.
Mark freezes.
Something in his chest sparks—hope, sharp and sudden.
Do you feel it?
Do you remember?
But then you shake your head again, unlocking the door and slipping inside.
The light clicks on.
The curtains close.
And just like that—
You’re gone.
Mark waits a few more seconds. Just in case.
He always does.
Only when he’s sure you’re safe does he move, shooting a web and swinging away into the night. The city rushes past him in blurs of gold and shadow, wind cutting through him, grounding him.
This is what he has now.
Not laughter. Not shared secrets. Not your hand in his.
Just distance.
And duty.
Back in his apartment, the silence feels heavier than before.
He lands softly by the window, peeling off the mask. His hair is damp with sweat, his face drawn, eyes tired in a way sleep hasn’t been able to fix.
He glances at the desk.
At the pile of failed letters.
At your name, scribbled over and over in the margins of crumpled pages.
Mark walks over slowly, sitting down again. He picks up a fresh sheet of paper, smoothing it out carefully like it matters—like this one might be different.
The pen hovers.
For a long time, he just… breathes.
Then...
Hi.
His hand trembles slightly.
You don’t know me but you used to.
A pause.
Longer this time.
His jaw tightens.
My name is Mark Lee.
The words sit there.
Lonely.
Incomplete.
His throat burns.
Because the next sentence should be easy.
It should be something like:
I love you.
But you don’t know him.
And love, coming from a stranger… isn’t love at all.
It’s just confusion. Maybe even fear.
So instead, he writes
I just wanted to make sure you’re safe.
His breath catches.
That, at least, is still true.
That will always be true.
No matter what the world remembers.
No matter what you remember.
Mark leans back slightly, staring at the page like it might somehow fill itself in if he waits long enough.
It doesn’t.
It never does.
Outside, the city keeps moving.
Inside, he sits there,
caught between a past that’s gone
and a love that refuses to leave.
The bell above the café door jingles softly as Mark pushes it open.
Warmth hits him first—the smell of coffee, steamed milk, something sweet in the oven. It’s familiar in a way that aches, like a memory just out of reach.
And then he sees you.
You’re behind the counter, sleeves pushed up slightly, hair falling just the way it always used to when you got busy. There’s a light in your eyes as you laugh—easy, effortless.
But it’s not because of him.
Mark stops mid-step.
There’s a guy leaning against the counter, grinning at you like he’s already decided he likes everything he sees. He says something—Mark can’t hear it from here—but you laugh again, softer this time, a little shy.
Something sharp twists in Mark’s chest.
It’s not fair.
The thought comes fast, ugly, selfish—but he can’t stop it.
That’s my place.
Not in a possessive way. Not like you belong to him.
But that moment—the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle just slightly—that was something he used to earn. Something he used to protect. Something he used to know.
Now he’s just… standing there.
A stranger.
Invisible in a world he saved.
Mark swallows hard, forcing his feet to move, stepping aside so he’s not blocking the door. He lingers near the wall, pretending to check something on his phone, but his eyes keep drifting back to you.
The guy finally leaves, tossing you one last smile before pushing the door open and disappearing into the street.
Mark exhales.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.
This… this isn’t something he can keep doing.
Watching from rooftops. Standing in corners. Writing letters he’ll never give you.
Living a life where he exists around you—but never with you.
He loves being Spider-Man.
He really does.
Saving people. Doing the right thing. Carrying something bigger than himself—it matters.
But he matters too.
Or at least… he used to.
Mark straightens slightly, something shifting in his chest. Not the sharp ache this time—but something steadier.
A decision.
I can’t have what we had, he thinks.
But maybe… I can have something.
Even if it’s small.
Even if it’s just 'hi.'
He doesn’t remember leaving the café.
Only the rush of wind against his face as he swings through the city, faster than usual, like he’s chasing something before he loses his nerve.
Back in his apartment, he lands a little harder than intended.
The room looks the same. Feels the same.
But he doesn’t sit down this time.
Doesn’t reach for a pen.
Instead, he moves.
Quick. Purposeful.
The mask comes off, tossed aside. He runs a hand through his hair, stepping into the small bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.
For a second… he almost doesn’t recognize the person looking back.
“Okay,” he mutters quietly. “Okay.”
His voice sounds strange without the filter of the suit. Too raw. Too real.
He fixes his hair—again, and again, until it sits just right. Changes his shirt twice before landing on the black one.
The one you loved.
You used to say it made him look soft.
He hesitates for half a second—then reaches for the cologne. Just a little. Not too much.
His hands are shaking.
“Relax,” he whispers, letting out a breath that doesn’t quite steady him.
This shouldn’t be harder than fighting villains.
But it is.
Because this time there’s no mask to hide behind.
The bell jingles again.
You glance up automatically, mid-sentence, your eyes landing on him.
Mark smiles.
Or at least—he tries to.
It’s a little stiff at first, a little unsure. But it’s there.
“Hey,” he says, voice softer than he expected. “Uh—can I get a coffee?”
You blink at him for a second, not in recognition, just… normal curiosity. The kind you’d give any new customer.
“Yeah, of course,” you say, returning the smile easily. “What kind?”
He steps closer to the counter, heart pounding so loudly he’s convinced you can hear it.
“Just—uh—regular? I mean, not regular, I—whatever you’d recommend.”
Smooth.
Very smooth.
You let out a small laugh, and it hits him harder than anything else today.
God, he missed that sound.
“Okay,” you tease lightly. “And what milk do you want?”
Milk.
Right.
Mark blinks.
“I—uh—” His brain completely blanks. “Normal?”
You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Normal?”
“Like—milk milk,” he corrects quickly, wincing at himself. “Regular milk.”
“Got it,” you say, smiling as you turn to make it.
He exhales, shoulders dropping slightly.
Still alive. Good.
You hand him the cup a minute later, fingers brushing his for the briefest second.
It’s nothing.
It’s everything.
“Here you go,” you say.
“Thanks,” he replies, quieter now.
For a split second, you look at him, really look.
And something in him aches with hope.
Please.
Just—something.
But then—
You smile politely and turn away, already calling over your shoulder, “Hyuck, do we have more lids in the back?”
And just like that—
The moment passes.
Mark nods to himself slightly, like he expected that. Like it doesn’t hurt.
He moves to a table near the window, sitting down slowly, wrapping his hands around the warm cup.
From here, he can hear you.
You and Donghyuck talking. Laughing. Bickering over something small and stupid.
Normal.
So painfully normal.
He pulls out his phone, unlocking it just to have something to look at but his eyes aren’t on the screen.
They’re on you.
On the way you lean against the counter.
On the way you laugh without holding back.
On the way you exist in a world where he doesn’t.
And yet for the first time in a long time...
He’s not watching from a distance.
He’s here.
Close enough to hear your voice without wind rushing past his ears.
Close enough to feel… something other than empty.
Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth settle into him.
It’s not what he had.
Not even close.
But it’s something.
And for now—
Something is enough to keep him from breaking.
Weeks pass in small, careful pieces.
Mark becomes part of your routine the same way the morning rush does—predictable, constant, almost comforting.
The bell jingles.
He walks in.
Black shirt sometimes, sometimes a hoodie, hair a little messy like he didn’t try too hard—but you’ve noticed he does try. Just not in an obvious way.
“Hey,” he says, soft smile, every single time.
“Hey,” you reply, already reaching for his usual.
You don’t even ask anymore.
“Regular milk, right?” you tease one morning.
He lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Milk milk.”
It becomes a thing between you.
Small. Easy.
Safe.
From behind the counter, you watch him sometimes.
Not obviously.
Just… when you’re waiting for the espresso to pull, or when Donghyuck disappears into the back.
Mark always sits by the window.
Sometimes he scrolls on his phone. Sometimes he writes—pages and pages, head bent slightly, brows furrowed in concentration like the words matter more than anything else in the room.
And when he leaves he always smiles.
Always waves.
Like it’s important.
Like you’re important.
You don’t know why that sticks with you.
But it does.
Mark on the other hand notices everything.
The way you hum under your breath when it’s slow.
The way you sigh when the line stretches to the door.
The necklace around your neck.
His necklace.
He sees it the first time and nearly forgets how to breathe.
You still wear it.
Every day.
The small chain catches the light when you move, the pendant resting right where he remembers it.
His fingers twitch slightly around his cup.
Do you even know where it’s from?
Do you remember who gave it to you?
He wants to ask.
God, he wants to ask.
But what would he say?
Hey, that necklace? I gave it to you when you said you’d never take it off.
He swallows it down.
Like everything else.
One afternoon, after he leaves, Donghyuck leans against the counter, watching the door swing shut behind him.
He hums thoughtfully.
“You know,” he says, casual but not really, “I think he has a crush on you.”
You glance up, immediately shaking your head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He so does.”
“He’s just nice,” you insist, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter. “Some people are just… nice.”
Donghyuck snorts. “Yeah, and some people come in every single day, order the same thing, stare at you like you hung the moon, and then leave smiling like an idiot.”
You try not to react.
You really do.
“He does not stare at me.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.
You roll your eyes, turning away before he can see the slight smile tugging at your lips.
Because—
Okay.
Maybe Mark is…
cute.
In a quiet way.
The kind that sneaks up on you.
But you don’t say that out loud.
Instead, you shrug lightly. “He’s just a regular.”
“Mm-hmm,” Donghyuck hums, clearly unconvinced.
The next day, something feels… off.
You notice it the second Mark walks in.
He still smiles.
Still says, “Hey.”
But it’s softer. Slower.
There are faint shadows under his eyes, his movements just a little more tired than usual.
You notice.
Of course you notice.
But you don’t say anything.
You just make his drink.
Slide it across the counter.
“Here.”
“Thanks,” he says, fingers brushing yours again.
You linger for half a second.
Just a second.
Then you pull away.
It happens quickly.
Too quickly.
Mark reaches into his bag, fumbling slightly, probably for his pen—and his elbow nudges the cup.
You both see it at the same time.
The tilt.
The fall.
The inevitable spill—
Except—
It doesn’t hit the ground.
Mark catches it mid-air.
Fast.
Too fast.
A few drops still splash out, darkening the floor, but the cup stays intact in his hand.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then he’s moving, hurried, almost panicked.
“Sorry—sorry, I’ve got it,” he says quickly, setting the cup down and grabbing napkins.
“It’s fine,” you say immediately, stepping around the counter. “It’s my job, don’t worry—”
But he’s already taking the paper towels from your hands, crouching down, wiping the spill himself.
“I’ll clean it,” he insists, voice tight.
You pause.
Watching him.
Something about the way he moves—the speed, the precision, the instinct—
It feels…
familiar.
A strange sensation settles over you.
Like a memory just out of reach.
“Hey,” you say slowly.
He freezes slightly, still crouched.
“You have good reflexes,” you continue, tilting your head. “Have we met before?”
Mark’s heart stutters.
He looks up at you.
For a second—just a second—there’s something in his eyes.
Hope.
Fear.
Everything at once.
“I mean,” you add quickly, laughing a little, “I know you’ve been coming in for weeks. But like—before that? Outside the coffee shop? Maybe we had a class together or something?”
The air feels too still.
Mark stands, tossing the used paper towels into the trash.
“Maybe,” he says, keeping his voice light. Casual. “I meet a lot of people.”
It’s a terrible answer.
He knows it is.
You narrow your eyes slightly, but there’s no real suspicion—just curiosity.
“Hm,” you hum. “Maybe.”
You nod toward the sink. “Go wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says automatically.
The words slip out so easily it almost scares him.
You blink.
Another flicker of that strange feeling.
But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
While he’s gone, you glance at the table.
At the paper he left behind.
You don’t mean to read it.
You really don’t.
But the words are right there.
Hi, my name is Mark Lee.
Your breath catches slightly.
You repeat it in your head.
Mark Lee.
Something about it…
You frown faintly.
It feels familiar.
Not in a clear, obvious way.
But like a name you’ve heard before.
Like a song you almost remember.
Mark comes back, drying his hands.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
You look up at him.
Study his face for just a second longer than usual.
Then you smile.
“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Just… your name.”
He stiffens.
“My name?”
“Yeah,” you shrug, tapping the paper. “It sounds familiar.”
The world seems to hold its breath.
Mark doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
“Does it?” he asks quietly.
You nod, though there’s uncertainty in it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it.”
Maybe you are.
Or maybe—
Somewhere deep inside you—
Something is trying to come back.
And for the first time since everything was erased—
Mark lets himself feel it.
Hope.
For the past couple of months, something hasn’t felt… right.
Not wrong in a loud, obvious way. Nothing you could point to and say, there, that’s the problem. It’s quieter than that. Subtle. Like a song playing just a little off-key in the background of your life.
You notice it in small things.
A bracelet sitting on your dresser—delicate, pretty, yours—but you don’t remember where it came from.
A book tucked into your shelf you don’t remember putting there.
Mom says she didn’t buy it. Dad shrugs, says maybe it was a gift. From who?
You don’t know.
And that’s the thing.
There are… gaps.
Not huge ones. Not enough to scare you, not enough to send you spiraling. Just little pockets of missing pieces, like someone took scissors to your memories and cut out random moments for no reason at all.
Your last birthday.
You remember the cake. Your family. Donghyuck complaining about something stupid like always.
But there’s this feeling—
like someone else was there.
Someone important.
Someone who should be easy to remember.
And yet…
Nothing.
You sit on the edge of your bed, frowning slightly as you try to piece it together.
But then you shake it off.
Because this is New York.
In a world with the Avengers flying overhead, alien invasions, time travel rumors whispered like urban legends—memory being a little fuzzy doesn’t feel like the strangest thing that could happen.
Maybe it’s stress.
You’re young. You’re figuring life out. That’s enough to mess with anyone’s head.
So you let it go.
Or at least—
you try to.
By the time you’re getting ready for your shift, the feeling has dulled again, tucked neatly into the back of your mind.
You smooth out your clothes, grab your bag, and catch your reflection in the mirror.
There’s a small smile on your face.
You pause.
It grows just a little.
Because—
You’re thinking about him.
Mark.
Your new regular.
You don’t even realize how often he crosses your mind now until moments like this.
The way he walks in like he’s trying not to take up too much space.
The way he smiles—soft, a little shy, like it means something every time.
The way he stutters sometimes when you ask him simple questions, like you’ve somehow made him nervous just by existing.
It’s… cute.
Really cute.
And kind of—
You bite your lip slightly, shaking your head at yourself.
But still…
There’s something about him.
Something you can’t quite explain.
You don’t know what he does. You don’t know much about his life outside of those brief conversations about weather and rush hours and the occasional complaint about how busy the city gets.
You want to ask.
You’re curious.
But you don’t want to push.
Don’t want to scare him off.
Because selfishly—
you like that he comes in.
You like that little moment in your day where the bell rings and you know it’s him.
And now you know his name.
Mark Lee.
You say it quietly to yourself as you walk down the street, testing the way it feels.
“Mark Lee…”
It rolls off your tongue so easily.
Too easily.
Your steps slow slightly.
A strange feeling curls in your chest.
Like you’ve said it before.
Not just once.
But a hundred times.
A thousand.
Softly. Laughing. Maybe whispered into the quiet of a moment that mattered.
You frown.
You shake your head quickly, brushing it off with a small huff of air.
It’s a common name.
Mark.
Lee.
In New York City?
There are probably hundreds of them.
Thousands, even.
So yeah.
Of course it feels familiar.
Anything is possible in a city like this.
But as you push open the café door, the bell chiming above you—
There’s still that feeling.
Lingering.
Soft.
Unfinished.
Like a memory waiting—
just on the other side of your reach.
The bell jingles like it always does.
Mark is already there.
Same seat by the window. Same cup in his hands. Same quiet presence that somehow feels… steady now. Familiar.
You catch his eye as you tie your apron, giving him a quick smile. He returns it instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.
Donghyuck notices.
Of course he does.
He dries his hands on a towel, glancing between you and Mark with a look that already means trouble.
“Don’t,” you warn under your breath.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He grins.
And then before you can stop him, he walks right over and drops into the chair across from Mark like he owns the place.
Mark blinks.
“Oh uh hi.”
“Hi,” Donghyuck says easily, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world. “You mind?”
Mark shakes his head quickly. “No no, it’s fine.”
There’s a moment where Mark just… looks at him.
And something flickers across his face.
Recognition.
Not conscious. Not clear.
But there.
Because this...
This is familiar.
Donghyuck, inserting himself into situations he wasn’t invited into. Asking questions he probably shouldn’t. Pushing just enough to get a reaction.
That’s how he found out the truth the first time.
Mark almost smiles at the memory.
“What’s your deal?” Donghyuck asks, blunt as ever.
Mark chokes slightly on his drink. “My deal?”
“Yeah. You come here every day, sit in the same spot, write mysterious stuff, smile at her like she’s the sun” he jerks his head toward you “and then leave. I’m curious.”
Mark’s ears go red.
“I don’t—” he starts, then stops, clearly flustered. “I just like the coffee.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”
Mark frowns slightly, brows furrowing in that quiet, almost unintentional way he does when he’s annoyed but doesn’t say anything.
It makes Donghyuck grin.
God, he’s cute.
So different from him.
Where Donghyuck is loud, Mark is soft.
Where Donghyuck pokes and prods, Mark absorbs, thinks, chooses his words carefully—if he even says them at all.
“You new to the city?” Donghyuck asks, tilting his head.
Mark hesitates for half a second. “Kind of.”
“That explains it,” Donghyuck nods. “You’ve got that ‘I don’t know anyone but I’m trying’ vibe.”
Mark lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, looking down at his cup.
“Something like that.”
They talk.
Or… Donghyuck talks.
Mark answers.
Short sentences. Careful ones. But he doesn’t shut down. Doesn’t pull away.
And the more it goes on, the more something settles in his chest.
Because he knows this.
Knows the rhythm of Donghyuck’s voice. The way he fills silence without even trying. The way conversations feel less like effort and more like… momentum.
It’s been so long since he’s had this.
Something normal.
Something easy.
By the time Donghyuck stands up, stretching slightly, his break clearly over, he glances down at Mark again.
And pauses.
Because Mark looks…
Content.
Not just polite.
Not just “that was fine.”
But genuinely—quietly—happy.
Like that short conversation meant more than it should have.
Donghyuck notices everything.
“…You’re interesting,” he says, narrowing his eyes slightly, but not in a bad way.
Mark blinks. “Oh.”
“I’ll be back,” Donghyuck adds casually, like it’s already decided.
Mark nods before he can stop himself.
“Okay.”
Donghyuck slips into the back where you’re restocking cups.
“Well?” you ask immediately.
He leans against the counter, thoughtful for once.
“I think he doesn’t have many friends.”
You pause. “What?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Or he’s new. Or both. But he’s… I don’t know. He seemed really happy just talking.”
You glance out toward the front, where Mark is back to sitting quietly, phone in hand.
Your chest softens slightly.
“Hm.”
Donghyuck watches your face, then smirks. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly, turning back to your task.
“Anyway,” he continues, “we should talk to him more. Maybe hang out outside of work. Get to know him.”
You let out a small laugh. “Why? So you can interrogate him in a different location?”
“Exactly.”
You roll your eyes.
“And,” Donghyuck adds casually, “maybe he’ll get over his crush on you.”
You shove him immediately. “He does not have a crush on me.”
“He does.”
“He doesn’t.”
“He does.”
“He’s just nice!”
Donghyuck laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. He’s ‘just nice.’”
You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it.
Then, after a second, you sigh.
“…But yeah. I’m down to be friends.”
The words come easier than you expect.
Like the idea of knowing Mark—really knowing him—feels right.
Natural.
Like something you were supposed to do a long time ago.
Out front, Mark glances toward the back where you disappeared.
He doesn’t know what you’re saying.
Doesn’t know what’s about to change.
But for the first time in a long time—
He’s not just watching your life from the outside.
He’s being pulled into it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But finally—
He’s getting closer.
It comes back to him in flashes.
Not the loud, world-saving moments.
Not the battles, or the fear, or the choices that cost him everything.
But something quieter.
Softer.
The first time he met you.
It was two years ago.
A lecture hall that was just a little too cold, filled with half-awake students and the low hum of side conversations. Mark had been sitting near the middle, notebook open, pretending to pay attention while his mind drifted elsewhere.
Then your professor clapped their hands.
“Alright—pairs. Final project. Post-conflict justice. You’ll present in four weeks.”
Groans filled the room.
Mark barely had time to process it before you slid into the seat next to him.
“Guess we’re partners,” you said, offering a small smile.
And that was it.
That was all it took.
He was gone.
You were easy to talk to.
That’s what he remembers most.
Not intimidating. Not cold. Just… open. Curious. The kind of person who made conversations feel like something to enjoy, not survive.
What started as discussing case studies somehow drifted.
It always did with you.
One minute it was restorative justice, the next it was media narratives, and then—
“Okay but like,” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook, “in a city like New York, how does the legal system even keep up with superheroes?”
Mark blinked.
“…Superheroes?”
You grinned. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
He had.
A lot more than you knew.
Your eyes lit up slightly. “Like Spider-Man. He’s basically operating outside the law, right? But people still love him.”
Mark felt his chest tighten.
There it was.
He tried to play it cool. “What do you think about him?”
You shrugged lightly.
“I think he’s brave,” you said simply. “And he does good. That’s… pretty admirable.”
Mark nodded slowly.
But something in him—something selfish, something hopeful—wanted more.
“That’s all?” he asked before he could stop himself.
You glanced at him, then shrugged again, softer this time.
“I mean…” You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I also think it must be a lot.”
Mark’s breath caught.
“A lot?”
“Yeah,” you said. “That kind of pressure? Always having to be the one who shows up, who saves people, who does the right thing?” You shook your head a little. “That’s heavy.”
He stayed quiet.
Listening.
Really listening.
“I just hope,” you continued, voice gentler now, “that he has a good support system. People he can rely on.”
Mark looked down at his notebook.
At his hands.
At the life he didn’t talk about.
“…Why?” he asked quietly.
You gave him a look like it was obvious.
“Because that kind of thing gets lonely,” you said. “And no one should have to carry all of that by themselves.”
Something shifted in him then.
Something deep.
Something that stayed.
Then, just as quickly, you grinned again—lightening the mood like you always did.
“But also,” you added, lowering your voice slightly like you were sharing a secret, “I hope whoever’s under that mask is getting some.”
Mark choked.
“W-what?”
You laughed. “What? I’m serious. You’re telling me someone that committed to saving the city doesn’t deserve a little—”
“Okay,” Mark cut in quickly, face burning red, laughing nervously. “I get it.”
You laughed harder.
And just like that—
The moment passed.
You moved on.
But he didn’t.
He never did.
A year later, you were sitting on his bed.
Closer than you’d ever been back then.
Not just partners.
Not just friends.
Something more.
Everything, really.
His heart had been racing just as hard as it was that first day—maybe even more.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
You nodded immediately. “Always.”
And that’s when he told you.
Everything.
Who he was.
What he carried.
What it meant.
He expected fear.
Shock.
Maybe even distance.
But you just looked at him.
Really looked at him.
“You idiot,” you whispered, eyes soft.
His stomach dropped. “What?”
“You’ve been carrying all of that alone?” you said, reaching for his face. “Mark…”
And just like that—
He wasn’t alone anymore.
The memory fades.
The city comes back.
Wind. Night. Distance.
Mark sits perched on the edge of a building, mask on, watching as you unlock your door and step inside.
The light flicks on.
You’re safe.
You’re always safe.
He exhales, something warm settling in his chest.
Because today you smiled at him. You said his name. You almost remembered.
It’s not the same.
It never will be.
But it’s closer.
Closer than he’s been in a long time.
Mark leans back slightly, gaze lingering on your window just a second longer than necessary.
“…Getting there,” he murmurs softly.
Not just you.
Him too.
For the first time since he lost everything...
He doesn’t feel like he’s standing outside his own life anymore.
He feels like he’s finding his way back.
The invitation catches Mark off guard.
They’re closing up for the day, chairs half-stacked, the smell of coffee still clinging to the air. He’s standing near the counter, lingering like he usually does, when Donghyuck leans over it and says, “Hey, we’re going to the park after this. You should come.”
Just like that. No build-up. No hesitation.
Mark blinks at him, then glances at you.
You’re wiping down the machine, but you look up at the same time, meeting his eyes with a small, easy smile. “Yeah, if you’re free.”
Free.
He almost laughs at that. His life is anything but free. Patrols, responsibility, the constant weight of something happening somewhere at any moment.
But this… this feels important.
He hesitates for half a second too long, then nods. “Yeah. Sure.”
Donghyuck grins like he knew the answer already.
The park is warm with early spring. The kind of day where the sun isn’t too strong, but it lingers on your skin just enough to make everything feel softer. There are people scattered around, dogs running loose, someone playing music faintly in the distance.
You sit on the grass together, coffees in hand, shoes slightly sinking into the ground. Donghyuck stretches out immediately like he owns the place, while you sit cross-legged, absentmindedly pulling at blades of grass between your fingers.
Mark sits a little more carefully, like he’s still figuring out where he fits.
But he’s here.
That’s what matters.
Conversation comes easier than he expected. Or maybe it’s just familiar in a way that makes it feel easy.
Donghyuck is talking about some game he’s been obsessed with, going on about levels and rankings and strategies like it’s life or death.
“I finally hit top tier,” he says proudly.
Mark huffs a quiet laugh, looking down at his coffee. “You’re still playing that?”
Donghyuck squints at him. “Still? What do you mean still?”
Mark shrugs, trying not to smile too much. “Nothing.”
“I’ve upgraded,” Donghyuck shoots back. “It’s called commitment.”
Mark rolls his eyes slightly, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, there’s something fond underneath. He remembers this. The endless obsession, the way Donghyuck throws himself fully into whatever he likes.
Some things don’t change.
“You’ve been busy though,” you say, turning to Mark. “What do you usually do?”
The question is simple. Dangerous in a way only he understands.
He shrugs lightly. “Just… stuff. Work. Keeping busy.”
You nod like that’s enough, not pushing, and he feels something loosen in his chest because of it.
“What about you?” he asks, shifting the focus. “You mentioned baking before.”
Your face lights up slightly. “Yeah. I started recently. Just to, I don’t know, do something with my hands.”
“She’s been stress baking,” Donghyuck cuts in.
You glare at him. “I am not stress baking.”
“You made three different cakes in one week.”
“Because I was trying recipes!”
Mark smiles quietly, watching you. “Who do you bake for?”
“My parents mostly,” you say, softer now. “I bring home coffee after shifts and make something sweet. It just… helps, I guess.”
He nods, something warm settling in his chest.
He remembers your parents. The way they’d welcome him in without question, how your mom would insist he eat more, how your dad would ask him about school like it mattered. He never really had that growing up, not in the same way. But with them, it always felt… easy.
Like he belonged.
“They’re good people,” he says before he can stop himself.
You blink at him, a little surprised. “You don’t even know them.”
Mark pauses, then recovers with a small shrug. “I can tell by the way you talk about them.”
You smile at that. “Yeah. They’re the best.”
There’s a quiet moment, comfortable, filled only with the distant sounds of the park.
Mark’s eyes drift to your necklace again.
It catches the sunlight just slightly, the small pendant resting against your skin. His chest tightens as he looks at it, wondering if you’ve ever turned it over, ever noticed the tiny engraving on the back.
M.L.
He remembers how careful he’d been, how long it took to carve something so small, so precise.
You’d laughed when he gave it to you, then immediately put it on, saying you’d never take it off.
And you haven’t.
Even now.
“Do you know what you want to do?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter.
You glance at him, then look out at the park, thinking.
“Not really,” you admit. “Which is… kind of scary. But my parents don’t pressure me or anything. They just want me to be happy.”
Mark nods slowly, smiling to himself.
That sounds like them.
“That’s good,” he says. “Not everyone gets that.”
You hum in agreement, then tilt your head slightly. “What about you? Where were you before New York?”
The question lands gently, but it still makes his chest tighten.
You’re still smiling, glancing between them, and something about it feels so normal that Mark almost forgets himself for a second.
The sun, the grass, your laughter, Donghyuck’s voice in the background—it all blends together into something warm and familiar.
Something he thought he lost.
He leans back slightly, hands resting in the grass, letting himself just exist in the moment instead of watching it from the outside.
For the first time in a long time, the heaviness in his chest isn’t there. The constant ache, the loneliness, the feeling of being just out of reach of everything that mattered.
It’s quiet.
Replaced with something softer.
Something steady.
This feels like home.
And for once, he isn’t thinking about what he lost.
He’s just… here.
They leave the park slowly, the sun dipping lower, the air cooling just enough to make the walk back feel easy. Donghyuck walks between you both at first, still talking, still full of energy, but as you get closer to your streets he stretches and checks his phone.
“Alright, I’m cutting through here,” he says, pointing down a side road. “I’m not walking all the way around like you two lovebirds.”
“We’re not—” you start, but he’s already grinning.
“Bye, Mark,” he adds, a little too knowingly.
Mark nods, trying not to react. “See you.”
Donghyuck disappears, leaving the two of you alone on the sidewalk.
For a moment, it’s quiet. Not awkward, just… softer. The kind of quiet where every small thing feels a little more noticeable. Your footsteps, the distant traffic, the way your shoulder almost brushes his once before you both subtly adjust.
“I can walk you home,” Mark says after a second, like he doesn’t want to assume.
You glance at him, smiling. “Yeah. Thanks.”
It’s simple, but it makes something in his chest settle.
They walk side by side, a little closer now, conversation coming in small pieces instead of long stretches. You talk about the café, about a customer who tried to order something ridiculous, about how Donghyuck nearly messed up three drinks in a row earlier.
Mark listens more than he talks, but when he does, it’s enough. It always is.
As your building comes into view, you slow slightly, then glance over at him.
“Oh—next week,” you say, like you just remembered. “Me and Donghyuck are throwing a party. You should come.”
Mark looks at you, surprised for a second before it softens into a smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”
“Good,” you say, pleased.
You hesitate for half a second, then pull out your phone. “Wait—let me get your number.”
Mark fumbles slightly, pulling his out a second too late, almost dropping it before catching himself. “Right—yeah.”
You both laugh quietly as you exchange numbers, standing just outside your door now.
“Do you have socials?” you ask, already typing. “Like Instagram?”
“Uh—yeah,” he says, nodding. “I do.”
You find it quickly, tapping the follow button without hesitation. “There.”
He glances at the notification, something small and warm settling in his chest again. “Got it.”
There’s a pause.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… full.
“Okay,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he answers, just as quiet. “Tomorrow.”
And then, before either of you overthink it—
You hug him.
It’s quick. Casual. The kind of hug you’d give a friend.
But to Mark—
It’s everything.
He freezes for half a second, like his body has to catch up to what’s happening. Then he lifts one arm, wrapping it around you gently, careful, like you might disappear if he holds too tight.
He breathes in without meaning to.
You smell different.
Not the same shampoo you used to use.
Something softer. Sweeter.
It throws him off for a second, the realization hitting him in a quiet, unexpected way. Time has moved on. Things have changed. Even the smallest details.
But you’re still you.
You pull away, smiling up at him like it was nothing.
“Get home safe,” you say.
He almost laughs.
The irony of it sits right there, obvious and a little absurd, but he just smiles instead.
“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”
You turn, unlocking your door and stepping inside. The light flicks on, warm against the evening dim.
Mark stays there for a second longer than he should, just watching.
Then—
It hits.
Sharp. Immediate.
His senses flare, the world snapping into focus in a way it only does when something’s wrong.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Before the thought even fully forms, he steps back, shooting a web and pulling himself upward, disappearing into the skyline in one smooth motion.
You turn back just before the door closes.
“Bye—” you start, stepping back toward the door, pulling it open slightly.
But he’s gone.
You frown faintly, looking out at the empty street.
“That was fast,” you murmur.
You step inside again, closing the door slowly.
And then you notice it.
That feeling.
The one you’ve had for weeks now.
Like someone’s watching you.
It was there the whole walk home. Quiet, lingering, just at the edge of your awareness.
But now—
It’s gone.
Completely.
You pause in the middle of your hallway, brows furrowing slightly.
You glance back at the door one last time.
Then shake your head, brushing it off as you head further inside.
But somewhere, deep down—
Something shifts.
Like a piece of a puzzle just barely moved into place.
Warm weather always brings in more crime.
Mark had forgotten that part.
Winter slows things down, keeps people inside, gives the city a kind of quiet it doesn’t usually have. But spring—spring cracks everything open again. More people, more movement, more opportunity for things to go wrong.
He’s been busier.
Too busy.
Nights blur together into sirens, rooftops, fists, and the sharp sting of getting hit harder than he expected. Cuts that should scare him but don’t anymore, bruises that bloom and fade before anyone else would even notice.
By the time he makes it back to his apartment most nights, he barely has the energy to sit, let alone think.
Still—
He thinks about you.
About the café.
About the way you smile when he walks in.
He goes less now. Not because he wants to, but because he can’t always make it. And when he does, it’s quick. A rushed hello, a coffee, a promise thrown over his shoulder—
“I’ll be at the party. Even if it’s just for a bit.”
He means it.
Tonight, he barely makes it.
He crawls in through the window, landing harder than usual, breath uneven. His suit is torn again, darker this time where blood has soaked through. He winces, peeling it off carefully, tossing it aside as he drops onto the edge of his bed.
For a few minutes, he just sits there.
Waiting.
Letting his body do what it always does—healing faster than it should, the worst of it fading just enough to function.
It’s not perfect.
It never is.
But it’ll do.
Mark stands, moving quickly now. Shower, clothes, hands running through his hair until it looks somewhat intentional. He pulls on a white shirt, then a denim jacket, matching jeans—something casual, something that doesn’t scream I just got out of a fight.
A little cologne.
Just enough.
He stops in front of the mirror.
For a second, he just… looks.
At himself.
At the version of him standing there trying to piece together something normal out of a life that isn’t.
There’s a strange feeling in his chest.
Like he’s pretending.
Like he’s stepping into a role he used to know by heart but doesn’t quite fit anymore.
His old life isn’t waiting for him.
It’s gone.
This, whatever this is now, is new.
Different.
And whether he likes it or not—
It’s all he has.
Mark exhales slowly, straightening his jacket.
“…Do it right this time,” he murmurs.
Then he leaves.
Donghyuck’s place smells exactly the same.
The second Mark walks in, it hits him—familiar, warm, a mix of something sweet and something faintly burnt like someone forgot about food in the oven at some point.
“Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice cuts through immediately.
Before Mark can even properly step inside, he’s being pulled in, a drink shoved into his hand.
“You made it,” Donghyuck says, like he’s half-surprised.
“Told you I would,” Mark replies, smiling.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”
He doesn’t get a chance to look around much before Donghyuck is dragging him toward the TV, already setting up a game.
“You’re playing.”
Mark barely has time to protest.
And he’s terrible.
Actually terrible.
Donghyuck is relentless about it, laughing, trash-talking, fully in his element while Mark fumbles through controls like he’s never held one before.
“At least pretend you’ve played a game in your life,” Donghyuck says.
“I have,” Mark mutters.
“Clearly not well.”
Mark huffs, shaking his head, but there’s something easy about it. Something light.
He glances to the side.
And sees you.
You’re across the room, laughing.
Not just smiling—really laughing, head tilted slightly, eyes bright.
There’s a guy standing close to you. Someone Mark doesn’t recognize.
And he’s leaning in.
Too close.
Saying something that makes you laugh again.
Mark’s grip tightens around the controller.
He tells himself it’s nothing.
Just a conversation. Just a party.
But then the guy reaches out, brushing a piece of hair away from your face.
Something in Mark snaps.
He doesn’t think. Doesn’t pause.
He’s already standing before he realizes it, crossing the room in a few quick steps.
“Hey.”
You turn, startled for a split second before your face lights up.
“Mark—hi.”
You step forward immediately, hugging him without hesitation.
And this time, he doesn’t freeze.
His arms wrap around you instantly, holding you just a little tighter than necessary, his eyes lifting over your shoulder locking onto the guy.
There’s something in his stare. Sharp. Unreadable.
Enough to make the guy shift uncomfortably, then mumble something about getting another drink before walking away.
Mark doesn’t look back at you until he’s gone.
When he does, your expression has changed.
You’re studying him.
“Are you okay?” you ask, brows knitting together slightly. “There’s… blood on your eyebrow.”
Mark almost groans.
Of course there is.
“I—yeah, it’s nothing,” he says quickly.
But you’re already reaching for his hand.
“Come on.”
You don’t give him time to argue, pulling him down the hallway, into Donghyuck’s room. It’s quieter there, the noise of the party muffled behind the door.
You sit him down on the bed.
Mark’s pulse spikes.
This is—
Too close.
Too familiar.
His hands rest awkwardly on his knees, trying not to think about how you’re standing between them, how close you are, how easy it would be to just—
No.
You disappear for a second, then come back with a damp tissue.
“Hold still,” you say softly.
You step closer.
Closer than before.
Your hand comes up, cupping his face gently as you tilt his head slightly toward the light.
Mark’s breath catches.
This is wrong.
Not wrong in a bad way.
Wrong because it feels too right.
Because his body remembers this even if you don’t.
The way you touch him like it’s natural.
The way you focus on him like nothing else matters.
His chest tightens.
He jerks back suddenly, pulling away.
“I can—finish it,” he says quickly, voice a little strained.
You pause, then nod, handing him the tissue. “Okay.”
There’s a small shift in the air.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… aware.
You clear your throat, stepping back slightly.
“This might be a weird question,” you say, glancing at him. “But do you have a girlfriend?”
Mark blinks.
“No.”
“Have you dated recently?”
He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah.”
You hum softly, watching him.
“Oh.”
“What?” he asks, a little defensive without meaning to.
You shrug, but there’s something thoughtful in your expression. “I don’t know. You just… seem kind of heartbroken.”
Mark lets out a small, surprised laugh. “What?”
“I mean it in a nice way,” you add quickly. “Like—you’re trying to move on. Which is good. But it feels like something’s still… holding you back.”
He doesn’t respond.
Can’t.
Because you’re right.
“Whoever she was,” you continue, softer now, “she must’ve been really special.”
Mark looks down at the tissue in his hand, the faint smear of red against white.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “She was.”
There’s a beat.
Then he exhales, forcing a small smile like it’s easier this way.
“But it’s in the past.”
You nod slowly, like you understand, even if you don’t fully know what you’re understanding. The moment lingers for a second longer than it should, then you shift your weight and turn toward the door.
“Okay, well—”
Your foot catches on nothing.
Or maybe the edge of the rug.
You don’t even register it properly before your balance goes, a small gasp leaving you as you pitch forward—
And Mark is already there.
He stands up at the same time, one arm coming out instinctively, catching you around the waist with a steadiness that feels almost too easy. Like he’s done it a hundred times before. Like your weight doesn’t even faze him.
Your hands fly up, grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.
And for a second—
You freeze.
Because—
He’s strong.
Not just in a vague way. Not just “he works out sometimes” strong. His arm under your hand is firm, solid, like muscle layered over muscle, like he’s built for something more than just sitting in cafés and writing in notebooks.
Your breath catches slightly.
“Thanks,” you say after a second, a little quieter than before.
------------------
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You've never had a positive male figure in your life, so when Mark Lee shows up with his unexpected silliness, curiosity and care, you're suspicious that it's all an act and it's just a matter of time he'll finally show his true colours.
Until he shows you that he is genuinely a good guy.
➳ Characters: neighbour!Mark x female reader/you
➳ Genre: romance, comedy, opposites attract, sunshine x sunshine protector, badass female lead x loser boy energy, manhater fl x best boy ml
➳ Words: 10.3k
➳ Warning: mentions of food, drinks, misogyny, men being jerks, lack of positive male figures in reader's life including a demanding and unsupportive father
➳ A/N: Dedicated to @dat-town with all my love ❤️ Because you're the Johnny to my Mark haha #4yearagegapmeansnothingtous
Also, I recommend you listen to 'Little Miss' by GIRLSET for the vibes!
The only reason you said yes to this blind date was because your mother specifically warned you not to intimidate the guy she would want to set you up with.
Which meant that you had successfully intimated some guys before, enough that she would hear back from the indignant mothers of the other douchebags you had been set up with. Also, if being honest and being yourself meant that guys were scared of you, then so be it. You needed no one’s approval to live your life the way you wanted, much less a man’s.
It’s not that you hated all men. You knew there were nice ones out there. Like your primary school headteacher, your next door neighbour when you had been living in a flatshare during university, the elderly men selling your favourite mandu, the owner of your favourite second-hand bookshop and so on…
However, all the men in your life were just disappointments. Your grandfather had never cared about you, not even before he had become a little too reliant on alcohol (your other grandfather had passed away when you had been little, so you couldn’t fault him). One of your uncles was someone who would never admit that they were wrong even when they were and completely controlled your aunt whereas the other one wouldn’t lift a finger to help out at home and as soon as he got home, he turned on the TV and stayed there until he fell asleep on the couch, so your aunt had to bring him food and drinks.
Let’s not talk about the worst of all: your father. The sad thing is that you used to idolise him. He was smart, hard-working, and seemed to know everything you were curious about as a child. For this reason, he had seemed so perfect, and you had wanted to be just like him. So you had followed his every word, his every command, and soon enough, you had lost yourself.
You had realised that you weren’t happy doing the things that he wanted, not like they were ever enough. It was like a zero sum game: you could never win no matter how much you tried. Even if you did just what he wanted - you chose the university he wanted, the major he wanted, the career he wanted -, he wasn’t satisfied. There was always something he could nitpick, and worst of all, you had started noticing how he had always put women down. He thought of his female engineer colleagues as less than him, always complained about your mother’s hobbies because he didn’t deem them sophisticated enough, and he said that business in any way was not for women.
So you had disappointed him majorly when you had left engineering behind and moved abroad to study financial management at a university that you had chosen for yourself in a country that you had chosen for yourself. Guess what? You had graduated with a first-class honours degree.
On the other hand, the most important thing was that you had found yourself in the process. Your university had offered free counselling and you had taken advantage of it, working through your past of people-pleasing, inability to say no, inability to set boundaries and holding yourself back from being yourself. Being in a foreign country on your own was challenging enough, but it was also deliberating. Away from home, you realised even more how surface-level your father’s care was, and that was the final nail in the coffin.
When you had moved back to Korea, you had also started looking for a new place because you wanted to move out of your parents’ house to start living on your own as soon as possible. You had enough money because you had worked a couple of years as an engineer and worked throughout your second degree, so you didn’t need to ask your parents for money. Of course, your father had disapproved of it, but you couldn’t care less. You had become a different person, a stronger, bolder, more confident person, and he wanted nothing of it.
Fine, it was his loss anyway. He could go back to idolising your sister no matter how much she fucked up because her? She was perfect. Even without straight As or a flawless track record of classroom behaviour, she had always been his favourite. That you couldn’t really compete with, and you hated how much you had let it affect you growing up; chasing a mirage in the desert, an illusion that had nothing to do with reality.
As for your mother, she tried in her own way to stay in touch with you including setting up blind dates for you. You were practically a spinster in their eyes, and she thought that she was doing something good by playing the matchmaker, but in all honesty, her efforts were futile because all the guys you had met so far were complete idiots. Cheating, lying, manipulating, two-faced jerks.
This time too, the date was a disaster. The food at the restaurant was at least good and more easily digestible than the nonsense the guy was spewing. Frankly, he resembled your father so much that you felt like trampling on his ego with your high heels. Did he really think that by criticizing your choice of profession, you would fall at his feet, pleading with him to marry you, so that you could be a housewife instead of working in finance?
“Look… As they say, time is money, and I feel like I’m nearing bankruptcy listening to your nonsense, so I suggest we both go our own ways instead of wasting our time here. You won’t change my mind about my career, you won’t change my mind about a woman’s place in the household, and you definitely won’t change my mind about you being a jerk, so…”
You shrugged at the end of your monologue, your smile so mellifluous that someone without context might think that you were actually harbouring feelings for this prick who was not only shocked but also annoyed upon hearing your words.
Ding-dong. That’s when they all show their true colours…
“You listen to me, you little-”
“Blablabla, I can’t hear you, and you can’t tell me anything I haven’t heard before, so let me just remove myself from this extremely uncomfortable and unsupportive atmosphere,” you announced as you stood up from the table and pushed your chair back.
You gave him one last death stare before turning on your heel and leaving the restaurant, his not-so-pleasant words thrown at you not reaching you anymore.
Needless to say, you weren’t really in a good mood after such a disastrous date. So the last thing you wanted was to run into your neighbour when you got home, but as you were fumbling with your keys in front of your door, the door of the flat opposite of yours flew open and a chatty male voice called out:
“Hey, yo! I finally ran into you.”
Hey, yo? What on Earth?
You cautiously turned around, your keys in your hands, ready to be faced with a typical fuckboy who felt like he could talk to women like one of his dudes, but instead, a boy who literally looked like a boy-next-door kind of guy looked back at you.
He wasn’t super tall, he wasn’t super muscular either, but he had these big doe eyes and boyish features that made it difficult to guess whether he was 16 or 26. Though judging by the fact that the landlord said that one single guy lived on this floor, he should have been over 18 to live alone.
“Hi!” You greeted him back, your voice neutral at best, but the guy either didn’t catch onto it or he was this merry-go-round even when faced with a girl who wasn’t in a good mood.
“I’ve heard that someone was moving in, but I guess we didn’t manage to catch each other before,” he chatted excitedly, but you just deadpanned as you mumbled.
“Apparently.”
An awkward silence filled the air which was usually the cue for the other person to whimper away, but this boy looked way too casual and friendly for his own good. Plus, he beat you to it, so instead of you excusing yourself to actually enter your flat, he introduced himself as Mark Lee.
So you had no choice but to introduce yourself too, solely out of politeness.
“Uhm, so, what do you do for a living?” He asked as if you had all the time in the world when you just wanted this day to end.
On the other hand, this Mark Lee guy didn’t look like he meant harm, so you unlocked your jaw and dropped your shoulders (you were usually tense and cautious around new people) before you answered.
“I work in finance.”
“Wait, so you’re like a finance bro! But in a female version, of course. Is there a female version to the term? Finance lady, perhaps?” He blabbered, carefree like a puppy waggling its tail.
You had to give it to him that you had never been asked the same question when people heard what field you worked in, but men didn’t usually react like this, they merely judged your choice of profession.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s only one other female employee in the finance team.”
“What? That’s not right.”
Mark looked as if you had told him that the world would end the next day. Truth to be told, it was kind of flattering that a guy could ever react like that when it came to your job and the environment you worked in. Needless to say, the only other female employee in the finance team was your manager, the one who had hired you. She had been promoted after the previous male manager had left for a different company, so she knew exactly how hard one must work in this field to be taken seriously as a woman. You were lucky that you could confide in her though.
“What about you?” You asked about his side instead of pondering over his reaction, and he immediately switched back to chatty mode.
“Oh well, I’m not really good with numbers. I’m actually a songwriter. But don’t worry, I don’t make a lot of noise at home. I have my equipment in the studio,” he explained in detail even if you didn’t ask.
When the second momentary silence fell over you, you took it upon you to break it by announcing:
“Well, it was nice meeting you, but if you excuse me, I’ll head inside now.”
“Yeah, sure. My bad,” he replied with a semi-nervous chuckle and he literally stepped back as if you were heading that way.
Instead, you turned back to your own door and let yourself in, feeling the weariness of the day taking over you as soon as you got rid of your high heels.
Ah, what a day!
It was truly astonishing how men had the audacity to make comments on a woman’s body, choice or opinion, but when women bit back, they got offended, pleaded that they were only joking or blamed women for being too emotional or uptight or perhaps being on their period.
Like that day when you went to pick up your new blanket chest from the store. Even though the order was under your name, the man at the collection point dared to ask you where your boyfriend was to help you take it home. When you proceeded to tell him that you would be fine on your own, he laughed and said that “eventually all women are broken in”.
He even dared to smirk at you as if you were ready to fall at his feet and marry him for being so witty. Instead, you picked up the box on your own and pulled your lips into a mellifluous smile as you remarked:
“Women are not horses, but how would a man like you with the brain capacity of a bathroom rug know that?”
Now, he didn’t feel like smirking anymore, but you were already out of the store by the time his comeback would have reached you. You definitely didn’t need a man’s help because though the blanket chest wasn’t that big, it weighed quite a bit, but that’s why you were exercising. Not to look good and definitely not to appeal to men, but to be able to carry everything you wanted, let that be groceries or new furniture.
Thankfully, you had a seat on the metro, so you were saved from holding the box for half an hour, but you were panting a bit by the time you reached your flat.
Obviously, Mr-eager-neighbour just had to walk out of his flat as you reached your floor.
“Oh hey, Y/N! Need some help with that?”
“What is with you men thinking that a woman can’t do this on her own?” You muttered, rolling your eyes, as you put the box on the floor in front of your door. Then, you turned towards Mark who looked back at you with his big doe eyes, ready to defend himself. Before he could do so, you continued. “I’ve brought this back on my own all the way from the store, so I think I can manage for the last few metres.”
“Oh wow, you’re strong!” He remarked in awe, but as soon as he saw your unamused expression, he explained himself. “I mean, you’re right. You were literally just three steps away from your door. I guess it just came naturally to me to offer help. Not because you couldn’t do it on your own, but in case you were struggling but didn’t want to say so yourself.”
“Oh, I will tell you if I need help. I’m not one to hold back my opinion,” you laid down your cards in case he was wondering if you were a damsel in distress.
If you genuinely needed help, you would say so without shame, without caring what others might think. You had grown a thick skin over the years, so such things didn’t make you freeze on the spot anymore, leaving you with regrets as to how else you could have handled the situation.
If Mark was like the typical example of the male species you usually encountered, he would make a comment on how you were high on your horses or how you were so brazen. Maybe he would even give you a seductive smirk, saying that he liked girls who didn’t hold back. Or he would even remark that you should know your place and this was no way you should speak to a man.
Instead, Mark looked so apologetic (like a puppy who did something wrong) that you felt bad for him for a millisecond before the walls around your heart recomposed.
“That’s absolutely fine. Honestly. Like… just be yourself, you know?” He tried to play it cool, but his wild hand gestures didn’t exactly help his awkward self. He giggled like a school girl when he realised that he had just made a fool out of himself, but then, as if lighting struck him, he snapped his fingers and asked:
“Does it mean I can also ask you for help?”
You were about to open your mouth to say something when you realised that you weren’t quite sure how to word yourself. This was not a question you had been asked. Even when you were young, your father had only asked you to help your mother (because obviously he was too mighty to help out his wife), not him. Never him. Even when he had wanted you to take after him and be an engineer, he had literally never let you see the projects he had been working on. You had never done those experiments at home together that other kids who had nothing to do with physics had done with their parents.
“I mean… sure,” you blurted out, slightly uncertain, but even that was enough to light up his whole face.
“Cool. I might ask your opinion on some songs that I’ve been working on because I need a female’s perspective on it. I’m only working with dudes, and to be honest, I don’t want my lyrics to come across negatively to the most likely female listeners that will listen to it. If that makes sense.”
Mark’s whole monologue was said in one-go, and though he was clumsily trying to get to his point, you actually appreciated his idea. Huh, a male songwriter who cares about what female listeners would feel about his lyrics? How unlikely. How revolutionary for the male species!
“Okay,” you bobbed your head, giving in.
“Thanks. That would be awesome!” Mark hollered excitedly. At times like this, it was even harder to tell just how old he was because he looked like a kid at an amusement park. “I gotta go now though. See you soon!”
He bid his goodbye with a wave of his hands and a big smile, and all you could do was to watch him go down the stairs with the most perplexed expression ever.
Just who was this guy? And what was his deal?
Surely, he would show his flaws soon. He would make those remarks, go against your opinion, try to mansplain and make you regret that you had ever allowed him to talk to you.
Surely, it will happen soon.
Mark’s personality confused the hell out of you.
You were always ready for him to drop his act, to finally act like the douchebags you had the chance to meet previously, but it never came. Instead, he just appeared more and more… innocent, if you will.
As it turned out, he was the same age as you, but he was still in awe at random things like the project you were working on at work. One time, he even showed you the picture he took of the sunset, claiming that you just had to see it because it was the prettiest sunset he had ever seen. He said it with such enthusiasm, it felt like he had just won the lottery.
Then, there was his kind heart. Even though you had been suspicious at first, the boy had literally never said anything offensive to you, had never even looked at you any differently no matter what you wore or how much make-up you put on (as neighbours, he frequently bumped into you in your PJs as you were taking out the trash or in smart casual clothes when you were going to work). He was rather clumsy and silly at times, stumbling over his words and going on whole monologues about his point instead of getting straight to it, and he got shy more often than not when you challenged him with a question or gave him one of your trademark death stares.
He was… different. For the first time in your life, you had no idea how to act around a guy because you couldn’t diss him for who he was because he was a nice guy. He didn’t even bat an eye when you vented to him about men. In fact, he even took your side! So very strange…
Also, he did end up asking you for help with a couple of songs. He said that he wanted face-to-face feedback if you were up for it and suggested coming over to his flat, but the alarms went off in your head immediately. You told him ‘absolutely not’ and asked him to choose a neutral place instead - a coffee shop or a park, for instance.
So you ended up going to a coffee shop where one of his friends allegedly worked, and sat down at a table somewhere in the back. Right away, a tall guy appeared at your table and after a few ‘hey, dude, how have you been’ questions, Mark introduced you to his friend, Johnny.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Just so you know, you’re the first girl Mark brought here, so I have a feeling you must be special,” Johnny gave you an amused smile, but your eyes immediately averted to Mark’s who wanted to hide his face behind his hands.
“Dude, don’t embarrass me like that,” he whimpered, and truth to be told, the sight was kind of funny.
And cute.
Good god, not cute.
Not… cute.
“I was just stating facts,” Johnny shrugged (though Mark couldn’t see it because he was covering his face with his hands), and gave you a knowing look before he went behind the counter to get started on your drinks.
It took Mark a few seconds to pull himself together and be able to look you in the eyes. Not that you would take it the wrong way that you were the first girl he brought here. In fact, it showed you that he wasn’t the womanizer type, and this wasn’t the place he frequently brought girls to. Not that you were on a date or anything, but it was good to know. He could get a cookie point for it on your non-existent nice guy chart.
“Sorry about that. He’s too…”
“Honest?”
Mark let out a semi-awkward giggle before he answered.
“Well… yeah.”
It was evident from the way they interacted with each other that their friendship was very brotherly. Which made you curious about how they had met because Johnny did look older than him, and they apparently didn’t work at the same place either.
So you decided to ask the boy about it and he let you know that he actually lived across the street when he was at uni. Johnny had already worked here back then, and they had become friends almost immediately.
“Sometimes I feel like he treats me as if I was his little brother. Which is funny because neither of us have any siblings,” he shared casually before asking if you had siblings.
“I have a sister, but we don’t really talk to each other when it’s not necessary. She’s always been the favourite child and I was not.”
“Oh, shoot, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. I’ve never mentioned it, and it’s not your fault that it’s the way I was brought up,” you pointed out, your voice measured.
Others’ pity didn’t help your situation, but you had learned how to be okay with that. It took you a long time, but by disappointing people around you, you actually became the happiest, most authentic version of yourself. Turns out not everyone loved you for who you really were when you finally spoke up, stood up for yourself and chased your own dreams, but that was on them, not you.
“Still. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Mark said so apologetically that coupled with his big doe eyes, you found it difficult to contain the stoic facade you usually had on.
“It’s okay, Mark. It really is,” you reassured him, your voice more gentle than ever before.
The moment was interrupted by Johnny who showed up with the drinks, his eyebrows furrowed when he caught sight of your facial expressions.
“I’m sensing a tense atmosphere here. What happened?” Johnny asked first thing first as he started serving you the drinks.
“Nothing,” you said in unison with Mark, but that just made Johnny more suspicious. He squinted his eyes as he looked between you two before turning towards you.
“Let me know if you ever need better company than Mark’s.”
“Dude!” Mark said in that boyish, whining voice of his, and for the first time that day, you found yourself smiling at their antics. That seemed to put Johnny’s mind at ease because he walked up to another table instead, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.
As you turned back to Mark, you prompted him to show you the songs that he had prepared.
“Oh, right. The songs. Silly me. That’s what we’re here for,” he singsonged giddily before he opened his laptop and smashed his keyboard a few times a bit too enthusiastically.
You brought your own noise-cancelling headphones, so after pairing it with his device, he started playing the songs for you one by one. You listened attentively, taking a few notes in your trusty notebook, and you discussed your feedback in between songs. Mark really did appreciate your comments, and he never seemed offended by what you said. Which was a relief because you hated men who told you how you should feel.
However, at one point, you couldn’t help but chuckle and slid your headphones off because you couldn’t continue with the song.
“What is this ‘long ass ride’ part?”
“Ah well…” He let out an awkward little giggle, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is it bad?”
He blinked back at you with those chocolate-brown eyes of his, worried as if you were about to say that it was the worst piece of songwriting you had ever encountered in your entire life. He really did look so innocent at times.
“It was certainly… surprising,” you decided on the appropriate word before adding with a shrug. “But it’s not really a love song either way, so I guess it’s fine.”
He seemed so relieved by your comment that he gifted you with the widest, happiest smile you had seen from him, and you instinctively followed. How on Earth did this guy have this effect on you?
Either way, you weren’t here on a date, so your smiles didn’t mean anything. Even if Mark turned out to be a nice guy, it didn’t mean that you were in love with him or something. You had so many bad experiences with men around you (even without dating them) that you couldn’t just fall for a guy like him.
Interestingly so, even if you were neighbours with Mark, you didn’t usually bump into each other in the neighbourhood. Which was funny because you had a downstairs neighbour, Xiaojun, who lived together with his friend, Ten (and Ten’s three cats), and you always bumped into him when he was taking his dog for a walk. At least his dog (Bella) was pretty quiet, so her barking didn’t disturb the peace of the apartment, but you just couldn’t imagine how two guys with four pets managed to live together.
Either way, that particular Friday night, you spotted Mark sitting by himself beside the windows at the local GS25 with a steaming bowl of noodles in front of him. He seemed quite deep in thought or maybe he was in a bad mood. Either way, something in you moved at the boy’s apparent lack of spirits, and you decided to sit beside him when you were done filling up your own plastic cup with water.
“Hi Mark!” You greeted the boy as you halted beside him, but he just kept staring ahead, so you cleared your throat and repeated yourself.
He snapped his head back when he heard you, and gave you an apologetic smile.
“Oh hey, Y/N! I’m so sorry. I was totally zoning out. My bad.”
“It’s okay,” you shrugged because it was no big deal, really. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all,” Mark replied immediately and shook his head. He even adjusted his chair, so that you could have enough space for yourself by the table even though there was already plenty to begin with.
You were never really one to comfort people, especially not men. However, Mark had been nothing but kind and supportive towards you, and you felt like fighting anyone who might have caused his smile to turn into a frown, so you couldn’t help but inquire if everything was alright.
“Ah yeah… I just…” He started cautiously, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. He was usually bubbly and talkative, so seeing him not just nervous but sad as well did not sit right with you. “Well, a lot of my songs were rejected at today’s meeting, and it felt… not so good. They just said that the songs wouldn’t fit the artists they wanted them for, but no constructive feedback was given. And that wasn’t so helpful, you know? Like… how else am I going to… you know… improve?”
He was trying to hide behind a nervous chuckle, but you could tell that his features were solemn instead of soft and he was clenching his jaw as well. He was so not fine despite wanting to appear fine in front of you.
“And I know it’s silly because my songs get rejected all the time because that’s how the industry works, you know? Usually, it doesn’t affect me either. But today, it just hurt,” he admitted, his voice becoming quieter and quieter by the end of his monologue.
Then, he sucked in a deep breath, and if nothing had happened, he turned his head towards you and forced a smile onto his lips.
“How about you though? I’m sure you have bigger problems than I do,” he tried to direct the conversation elsewhere as soon as the confession was out, but you didn’t have any of it.
“Mark…” You started tentatively, trying to think about your wording, so you would get the message across and he wouldn’t feel even more disheartened. “It’s okay to talk about yourself. It’s okay if something hurts you even if you usually don’t take such things to heart. But it’s not okay to belittle your own problems because you think that someone else has bigger problems. Okay? You are a completely different person and you have a completely different life. There’s no use in comparing us to one another.”
This was something that you had to learn the hard way, and you wanted nothing more than to see everyone else adopt this mindset, too. The world would be a much better place if people didn’t bring each other down but rather celebrated each other’s success. Everyone was on such different paths, there was literally no use comparing yourself to others.
You used to compare yourself to your sister as well, wondering why she was the favourite child and why you weren’t, but as years went by and you started to become more in tune with your own emotions, you realised that you were chasing a fantasy. Sisterhood should have never been about being in a race or a competition, and even if it was, being second place didn’t mean that you were a bad person. It just meant that your parents created the rules differently for your sister.
Mark’s shoulders visibly slumped in ease and he unclenched his jaw. His lips began to form a pout and he let out a sigh before he spoke up.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I guess it’s just hard since I’m surrounded by dudes all the time. They don’t really like to talk about emotions,” he pointed out what you had already assumed, but you were glad that he drew that conclusion himself.
“That’s why you’re better than them,” you blurted out without thinking twice about it, and Mark’s face literally reddened hearing your words.
“Oh, so you think I’m not like other boys?” He teased you playfully, the dimples around his lips deepening. The sudden change in his behaviour put your mind at ease, but being called out didn’t feel so good, so you turned back to your noodles and urged the boy to do the same before his food would get cold.
While having cheap convenience store food, you talked about everything from work to hobbies, misogyny to sustainability, childhood memories to future goals. Mark was an easy person to talk to because he had something to say about everything, but you meant it in the best way possible. He wasn’t trying to mansplain anything, he was rather conversational and curious, and someone willing to share so much about his life. He never wanted to tell you what you should think even if you didn’t agree with him on something, and he was such a down-to-earth person. A guy who was down-to-earth… now that was a big thing in your eyes.
He was also really funny and had a childlike innocence to him. He also used big hand gestures and made funny noises when reacting to things. You couldn’t really put it into words, but the way he saw the world was both mature and full of that kind of curiosity that kids possessed. You had long lost that kind of curiosity in the world, in the little things in life, in the positivity hiding behind the negativity. You were usually focused on major problems like global warming and gender inequality, but he did see the good in everyday interactions and he did see the good in people. You wished that you could see the world through his eyes a bit more, too.
After talking for what felt like hours, you ended up walking home together, but before you would have opened the door to your flat, Mark called after you and thanked you for today.
“Anytime,” you responded with a smile, and you were surprised to realise that you were actually being serious.
You didn’t help Mark with his lyrics to get something in return, but the boy kept telling you that he wanted to repay you, especially after doing a couple more sessions together when you helped him finetune his words.
Obviously, Johnny was there to witness the other sessions too, and you caught him staring at you two whenever he wasn’t serving customers. Which could have been scary and outright creepy under different circumstances, but he was a nice guy, and he really acted like a big brother to Mark, so you had a feeling that he was just watching over you two. Plus, you generated some extra income for him and the coffee shop because the sessions did stretch for a couple of hours at times, so he really couldn’t complain.
At first, the boy just kept dropping things off in front of your door - such as your favourite brand of mango juice or your favourite flavour of Pepero -, then, he kept paying for your drinks at the coffee shop. Then, he ended up asking you if he could take you somewhere, but it would be a secret, so you couldn’t know beforehand where it was. When you told him that you hated surprises, he insisted that you would enjoy it.
And oh boy, was he right… Because the guy literally took you to the very same exhibition that you had wanted to attend the day later, the one about gender inequality globally and in Korea, dissecting topics like the underfunding regarding women’s healthcare research, gender pay gaps in the workplace, the freedom (or the lack thereof) of women’s clothing choices back in the day vs modern times and such. It was an exhibition put together by sociology students from two Korean universities and their partner universities in Europe, and displayed at an art gallery where mostly men’s art pieces were shown, further encouraging conversation around these issues.
“You like it?” Mark inquired tentatively when you set foot inside the art gallery (after getting lost because he was terrible with directions), and when you looked at him, he appeared genuinely nervous, biting down on his lower lip as if he was ready for a scolding.
Which, to be fair, wasn’t unwarranted coming from you, but this time, your lips curled into a smile, and your voice was free of sarcasm when you admitted:
“I love it! This is an exhibition I’ve also wanted to attend!”
“Oh my gosh, really?” Mark’s eyes widened to twice their size before he let out a joyous giggle. “Gosh, I’m so relieved. I was scared for a second when you didn’t say anything,” he confessed truthfully, his eyes twinkling with mirth. You joined in on the laughter before sharing with him that you were actually at a loss for words because you were surprised that he knew about this event in the first place.
Mark chatted your ears off about how he had come to find out about this exhibition, and what other ideas he had in mind to repay you for your help. Some were more fitting for your personality than others, and you laughed when he mentioned that it had even crossed his mind that you should have attended one of Johnny’s barista workshops because he was sure that you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the older guy if you had ended up attending it. Though Mark was more afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you (and Johnny) than you actually being there with him.
The exhibition was fascinating, but Mark’s presence did make it even better because he was his usual curious self and oftentimes asked you if you felt the same way about the experiences that were shared or admitted that he didn’t even know about such inequalities when it came to women. Most men you knew would never admit that they were in the wrong, but he was unashamed about it, and you loved that about him.
Wait, what?
Love?
No, nope… not in that way, of course. You loved that about his personality, that was a better way to put it.
After the exhibition, you headed to a coffee shop together, and as you were waiting for your drinks to arrive, you asked the question that had been on your mind for quite some time now.
“Why don’t you ask about it?”
“About what?” He asked back, his eyebrows furrowed in question. He looked genuinely perplexed, but you were more surprised by the fact that he hadn’t yet inquired about the reason behind your hatred towards men.
“About why I hate men so much,” you stated (what seemed like) the obvious, and his features softened hearing your words.
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable sharing. Besides, I’m sure you have your own reasons, I know some men can be real jerks,” he shrugged as if it was common knowledge, but yet again, you were at a loss for words because how could you object? How could you go against his words?
You simply couldn’t because he was yet again being understanding and empathetic, and given that you had not really encountered men who had admitted such things, you weren’t sure how to react. On the other hand, you were saved by the barista who showed up with your drinks, and gave you some time to think.
You decided on telling him the reason either way. About how you had not had a positive male figure growing up; about your father’s obsession with getting you into engineering and his disapproval when you had chosen to do a degree in finance; about your grandfather never really caring about you even before he became an alcoholic; about your uncles being lazy and controlling and not helping out their wives at home, even when they had kids they could have taken care of. You had talked about high school classmates who had objectified women and watched porn during breaks besides the sports field, and men during your time abroad who had looked down on you simply because you were a woman studying finance.
Mark was big on reactions, and even though he was listening attentively, he couldn’t hold himself back from saying things like “Whaaaat, that’s crazy” or “Oh my god, are you being for real? That’s insane” when you had told him what you had been through. Of course, not every single male had been a complete jackass in your life, and you made sure to point that out, but the ones who should have been role models and who should have set good examples were exactly the ones that had made you feel small, uncared for and easy to control.
Mark apologised on behalf of all the men who had wronged you before, and said that he completely understood why you acted the way you did. Then, he added that he hoped that he could set a good example, and show you that not all men were bad.
“Don’t worry. You aren’t in that category,” you eased his nerves as you turned towards him, and he gifted you with the kind of smile that also made his dimples visible.
“I’m glad then.”
So were you.
But you were equally concerned about what your feelings might have been hinting at, and you weren’t sure that you were ready to face them head-on, so you turned back to nursing your drink instead, and let the conversation steer towards a different topic.
One would think that just because you hated most men, you also hated romcoms.
However, you were actually a big fan of romantic movies, dramas and books because fictional men were way better than real ones. Fictional men couldn’t cheat on you, disrespect you or disappoint you as real men could, so what could go wrong?
That Friday too, you were binge-watching a newly dropped Netflix series when you heard muffled sounds from the corridor. You usually didn’t pay attention to such noises because you lived with others, so it was natural that they made some noise. Mark was usually quiet, but it was odd that he would talk to someone outside of his flat for more than a few minutes close to midnight.
So after you gave it a couple more minutes, you decided to look through your peephole to see what Mark was doing, and realise that he was actually not with someone, he was talking to himself.
The boy was swaying in front of his front door, dramatically clutching his chest while singing something about not remembering the numbers (what a weird thing to sing about), and you could already tell from his miniature version through the peephole that he was drunk.
You opened your door much to the boy’s surprise who almost stumbled over his own feet when he turned around to face you.
“Oh heeey theeeeere,” he singsonged giddily and hiccuped after his words.
You rolled your eyes at his antics but to be fair, you were more afraid of him falling down the stairs than him making a bigger fool out of himself.
“What are you doing out here, Mark?”
He pouted like a little child, his eyes shining dreamily, and even his cheeks were tinted pink, so there was no way you would not call the sight cute even though he had very obviously underestimated his limit and you usually didn’t condemn such behaviour.
“I forgot the numbers to my doorlock,” he whimpered, looking back at his front door with such a sad expression that you would have thought somebody died.
Oh, so those were the numbers he was singing about…
You tried to ask him if it was his birthday or his parents’ birthday or anything like that, but he said that he had tried everything that he could think of. He faintly remembered having it changed recently, but he couldn’t recall as to what the new combination was.
“Oh my god… do you think I’m going to have to sleep on the streets? Alone? In the rain?”
His voice was so desperate (yet dramatic), you had a feeling that his tipsy self actually believed it to be true. That’s when you noticed that he was already wet, tiny raindrops sitting on his pitch-black hair, and the sleeves of his puffer jacket was darker than usual.
“Stupid, stupid me… why did I change the numbers? I mean, I had to… for security reasons or whatever the doorlock company said, but argh…”
Mark continued acting like a child, complaining about his lack of memory regarding the new combination, but when he started saying that he will just sleep on the floor in the corridor, an alarm went off in your head, and you immediately said something that you would have never thought you would say to a man:
“Are you crazy? Stay at my flat instead!”
Despite his drunken state, the guy looked as shocked as his sober self would, and his eyes widened as well. Then, he drooped his head low and mumbled something akin to:
“But I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Don’t be silly! I don’t hate you, and you better believe it because I wouldn’t offer such a thing to someone I hate,” you stated matter-of-factly.
He still seemed pretty reluctant, but when you opened the door wider to let him inside, he tentatively walked in and immediately started taking off his shoes. Gosh, he had manners even when he was drunk…
You gave him a pair of unused slippers, and beckoned him inside. He looked around as if he was Alice in Wonderland while you were busy getting him some water and some towels for his hair from the bathroom. When you went back to the living room, he was sitting on your couch, looking at a framed photo of you with your peers on your graduation day abroad.
“There were so many guys in your class just like you’ve said,” he pointed out when you put the glass of water on the table in front of him. It was pretty amusing that he remembered such a small thing that you had said to him a while aho but not his new doorlock combination.
“Groupworks were pretty gruesome. None of the guys really wanted to pull their weight.”
“Ah, such a shame…” Mark noted as he put the photo back on the table. “Your parents must have been so proud,” he added as he turned towards you, but when he saw the change in your expression, he hit his forehead with his right hand. So dramatic, even when tipsy!
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I just remembered that your father didn’t approve of your studies. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s alright. My mother actually said that she was proud of me when I graduated, so there’s that,” you shared with him, and that seemed to put his mind at ease.
Instead of dissecting your graduation story, you inquired why he had been drinking so much. He said that one of his songs got an award, and he was really proud of it, but because he wasn’t the artist, he wasn’t invited to the ceremony, and only got to know about it at work, so he and his colleagues went out for some drinks to celebrate.
“I swear I started with apple juice!” He tried to save some face, but you just shook your head.
“Sure…” You replied, but there was a smile in the corner of your lips. “Now, dry your hair and drink some water!” You practically ordered him, but you didn’t want him to catch a cold. Or to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He saluted for you and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Gosh, he was really something.
However, Mark was quite childish when tipsy, and though he did gulp down the glass of water you had given him, he was fussy about the towels. He said that he wasn’t even that wet and that he was actually more sleepy than cold, but you just rolled your eyes at him as you reached for the towel.
“At least don’t wet my couch,” you reprimanded him before starting to dry his hair yourself, but you realised at the same time as him how awfully domestic this scene was because he suddenly seemed all too sober, his foggy expression replaced by a surprised one.
However, instead of making a comment on your odd behaviour, he blurted out something that no one had ever told you before.
“I’m so sorry that men have been such jerks to you. You deserve better. You’re such a wonderful person,” he confessed gently, and though it was rare that you were rendered speechless by a man’s actions, you were unable to form a response. What is more, you felt a squeezing sensation around your heart.
You were staring into each others’ eyes for what felt like an eternity before his sudden hiccups ruined the mood and you decided to drop the towel on the edge of the couch. The boy picked it up himself this time and ended up drying his hair to a pretty chaotic mess but at least it wasn’t wet anymore.
“The bathroom is to the right. If you need anything, just knock on my door. I’m a pretty light sleeper,” you told him before turning away and closing yourself in your room, your heart hammering away rapidly.
Thankfully, Mark didn’t make things awkward the next day. He profoundly apologised for his behaviour and ended up gifting you a hamper box as a token of his apology two days later with all your favourite things (which, by this point, didn’t surprise you because he was perceptive like that).
On the other hand, you weren’t sure what to do with your feelings because surely, you should have been frustrated, angry and disappointed. You never liked people who drank too much (mostly because of your grandfather), and you definitely wouldn’t let just any man sleep over at your place. However, Mark was not just any man, and somehow, his tipsy antics didn’t put you off. Rather, you found it endearing. The thought itself should have disgusted you, and you were very surprised by how you were feeling, so you tried to give yourself enough time to ponder over it.
After all, Mark was the first and only guy you let close to yourself, and he went against anything you had against men in general. He had never acted like a walking red flag, had never disrespected you (or for that matter, any women), and he had seemed so genuine, you were sure that he wasn’t just acting. He was curious and empathetic, and yes, he was a bit silly and childlike, but not in a bad way.
On the other hand, you had always been alone, and your experiences with men were rather disappointing, so you had never imagined yourself beside anyone, let alone a man. You had never liked any boy either, not as a crush, not as a boyfriend. You had been perfectly fine on your own, and even though admitting to yourself that you liked Mark was nowhere near a confession, you were kind of torn about what the next step should be. After all, just because you liked Mark didn’t mean that he liked you back even though his words and actions sometimes made you think so.
Your unsaid questions were answered when you bumped into Xiaojun one day who was taking Bella on a walk while you were walking back to your flat after work.
“Hey, Y/N!” The guy greeted you cheerily, and as he halted in front of you, Bella also followed suit and started sniffing your shoes enthusiastically.
“Hi Xiaojun!” You greeted him back before crouching down to pet his dog. Sometimes you wondered if your love for dogs replaced your love for men because you sure would have liked spending more time with dogs.
You had a little chit-chat about work and Bella before Xiaojun’s question made you freeze for a moment.
“You’re coming to Hendery’s wedding, right?”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in question, sending him a deadpan look.
“Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding, you know,” he looked back at you quizzically, but that didn’t help your case one bit. You still had no idea what he was talking about. The name ‘Hendery’ rang a bell (was it one of Mark’s colleagues?), but the girl’s name… not so much.
“I don’t know whom you are talking about.”
The guy let out a surprised ‘huh’ before he asked a question that yet again made you confused.
“Mark hasn’t asked you to be his plus one yet?” He quirked an eyebrow, but you just shook your head hearing his words.
You stopped petting Bella to be able to stand up and look him in the eye for further explanation. As if hit by lighting, the guy hit his forehead with his hand before he exclaimed as if he had set something on fire:
“Oh shit… I shouldn’t have told you that. Mark asked me to keep it a secret.”
He looked genuinely remorseful, but you were more intrigued by the ‘why’ behind Mark’s actions than Xiaojun’s guilt.
“Why would he want to bring me as a plus one though?” You questioned as you laced your arms in front of your chest, becoming uneasy.
You were sure that you had not met the said Hendery or the said Ahyun, but if Mark wanted to bring you as a plus one to their wedding, he must have been serious about it. He wasn’t flimsy about these things, especially because he knew how much you hated surprises and last minute plans.
“Because he likes you,” Xiaojun shrugged as if it was common sense, but when he caught sight of your flushed cheeks and your surprised expression, he hit himself on the forehead yet again.
“Damnit, I shouldn’t have told you that either. He hasn’t told you yet how he feels, has he?” He asked for confirmation, and you shook your head in return.
He let out an aghast sigh, so loudly that even Bella perched up, wondering what her owner was so dramatic about.
“Oh no… I just ruined everything for him. He said he wants to wait until he feels like you’re ready to hear his confession because he wants to respect your feelings, and he doesn’t want to force you to reciprocate his feelings. Oh gosh! Act like you haven’t heard anything,” he frantically shook his hands in front of his chest and immediately made an excuse about having to take Bella closer to a green area because she had that pooping face on her.
Poor dog looked so confused at the mention of her name, and though you knew Xiaojun was chaotic like this, you would have never thought that you would one day get to know that Mark liked you back thanks to his loose mouth.
The remaining question was how to let Mark know about it, too.
The thought of confronting Mark about what you had heard didn’t entirely scare you. It was rather unsettling because you had no idea how to bring up the topic and also admit that you liked him back without him thinking that you were joking.
You knew that you could come off rather standoffish and stiff, and you wanted nothing else than the boy to think that you weren’t serious or worse, that you wanted to make fun of his feelings. Of course, you didn’t care about men’s feelings on the daily because if they said something rude or misogynistic, women weren’t allowed to feel hurt, but if a woman said something slightly offensive about men, they were ready to start a revolution.
However, Mark was different. You had to realise that you did care about his feelings because he deserved it. That wasn’t an easy feat when it came to you, but you genuinely cared whether your words hurt him or not, because he was so gentle and kind and honestly too good for this world. You weren’t even sure how he had ended up liking you, but if he did, who were you to question his feelings? You felt the same way, so you should have been happy.
On the other hand, you had never done anything like this before, and being sentimental wasn’t your forte either. So you decided on sleeping on it, but it seemed like someone had other plans because Mark ended up knocking on your door about an hour after your encounter with Xiaojun.
You had just finished putting in a load of laundry and were about to have some dinner when you heard the frantic knocking on the door, and instead of a busybody neighbour fussing about the upcoming residents’ meeting or an elderly lady asking you to help her cat get off a shelf (both had happened before), it was the boy with the big doe eyes who turned up on the other side of your door.
“Hey! Do you have a minute?” Mark asked, panting as if he had run up the stairs. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, but he seemed rather indignant, so it was either about something unexpected or Xiaojun had confessed everything to him and he wanted to come clean.
Either way, you weren’t one to be suspicious of his intentions. Not anymore.
“Sure,” you bobbed your head and invited him inside.
You had not done so since the day he had drunkenly sung to himself in front of his own flat after forgetting the password to his doorlock, but you deemed this matter quite urgent and personal if he came up to your door without asking about it via text beforehand.
“Thanks,” Mark let out a long sigh before he walked inside.
You closed the door behind him and turned to him, totally expecting him to already make himself comfortable on the couch or maybe by the kitchen table, but instead, he just stood there, frozen, as if his mind had drawn a blank.
“Are you okay?” You quirked an eyebrow, slightly concerned. The boy, as if woken from a stupor, started talking so fast that you could barely follow.
“Look, I know that Xiaojun has told you about Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding. I know he has spilled the beans that I wanted to ask you to be my plus one. Hendery is one of my colleagues, by the way, he is a songwriter and producer on the team, and Ahyun, you probably know her by the name ‘Little Miss’. The solo singer, you know. Hendery has contributed to a lot of her songs as did I, as you know because you helped me with some of her lyrics…”
“Mark, breathe!” You reminded him with a slightly amused smile, and though the boy let his lips curl upwards for a few seconds, his features returned to solemn afterwards.
“So anyways, he’s also told me that he’s told you that I like you, and that’s why I wanted you to come with me to the wedding. But I was hesitant, and I am still hesitant whether you like me back, and you know that I would never, ever force you to do something that you don’t want to. Let that be accompanying me to the wedding or liking me back. And I also know how much you hate men and even though I like you that doesn’t mean that you have to like me, too. But since he’s already-”
“Mark, I like you, too,” you broke his monologue, but he was so lost in his own monologue that the words just seemed to fly over his head.
“Told me about what happened, I was like, might as well let her know that it’s cool if she doesn’t like me-” This was the point Mark’s whole demeanour changed, and the first flicker of hope glinted in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Wait, did you just say you like me?” His eyes grew to twice their size, completely appalled.
It was funny how much you had agonised over you finally coming clean with your feelings towards him, and yet, all it took was a simple sentence to actually make it real.
“Yes, I did. I like you too, Mark Lee.”
Mark was frozen for a moment, then he started giggling, and then, he finished off his performance with a long sigh. He shared with you that he had been running all the way from the first floor where he had talked to Xiaojun in-person after his friend had frantically texted him regarding your encounter with him.
“I could guess that much,” you blurted out with a smile, and that was enough to ease the tension in the air. The boy let out a chuckle before his lips finally pulled into a boyish grin.
“So are we good then?”
“We’re good,” you hummed. “And if the date is okay with me, I’ll be happy to be your plus one for the wedding,” you added on a second note, and he seemed like he had just won the lottery.
“Oh gosh, I can’t believe it! I’m so happy. I thought Xiaojun had blown up everything for me,” he admitted candidly, and you couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up in your throat.
“I mean, if he hadn’t told me that you like me, I might not have been sure enough to bring it up myself, so I think we should thank him one day,” you pointed out and even though you knew that Mark felt the same way, he went on a whole monologue about how long he had known that he liked you (since you had comforted him in the GS25 after his lyrics had been rejected without constructive feedback), and how he had even changed his doorlock’s password to the day that you two had met, but completely forgot about it when drunk, but was too ashamed to say anything about it afterwards, so he was glad that you didn’t ask about it.
“That’s so corny… but it’s also very much something that you would do,” you admitted before you asked the boy if he wanted to have some dinner with you.
Needless to say, he was more than happy to join you, and he even said that it was the best day of his life.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine. Let me know what you think. I'm always happy to hear your feedback. 😊
Header taken from this Mark vlog.
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➳ NCT masterlist
I started writing this story before Mark's announcement to leave NCT, so I will put the story into the NCT masterlist for the time being. However, I might move it to the 'Other' masterlist that contains soloists' stories and Kdrama fics in the future, so just a heads-up!
