One day I'll make this pretty

he loves seeing the ring on you, period. but around his dick, freshly manicured nails scratching up and down his length making him twitch? trust it’s his new favourite thing, he daydreams of the sight. your hand pumps him so slowly but he cannot even be mad, you look so gorgeous sitting on the floor, staring up at him with the most beautiful smile. he wants to see the rings at all times, going so far to twist the hand that’s around his dick just to have it on full display. “you know it’s there, it’s not like it’ll disappear,” you giggle at his actions. he hums, head falling back at your teasing squeezes. “nu-uh, look at me,” you snicker. “you want the ring on display, come look at it.” his eyes open, low lidded and filled with bliss as the fixate on your hand on him. you squeeze a little harder with your next pump and his brows furrow, jaw going slack as a delicious mix of moans and whines escape him. and what kind of fiance would you be if you didn’t want your future husband to absolutely crumble under your touch?the diamond clad finger, the one that he’s fixated on travels up his length, cruelly slow, before brushing over his sensitive tip. he hisses at the cool metal, hips bucking up, desperate for more friction. “feels good, hm?” “fuck baby so fucking good,” he moans back, voice laced with need. his prase your greatest motivation, your hand starts speeding up again while your ring finger stays circling the tip. you’ve heard sunghoon blissed out hundred of times before, yet you can’t help yourself admiring his features and of course he notices. “gonna make me feel shy if you keep looking me like that baby.” you giggle, empty hand reaching for his neck to pull him down for a kiss. messily, his lips slammed onto yours, a mix of your and his saliva dropping down your chin. his cock twitches under your hand, a sign that he was close and your other hand starts wrapping around the base. the feeling of both of your hands make him suck in a sharp breath between his teeth before he bites down on your bottom lip. moments later, the sweetest high pitched whine escapes him as you can feel his legs tense up. you swallow his moans and pants, guiding him through his climax before he slumps against you. after catching his breath he leaned back, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “if i hadn’t already, i’d put a ring on your finger right now.”

ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ says yes to everything during wedding planning, he just wants you to be happy.

sunghoon has always been the type of boyfriend. eventually you didn’t even have to ask for it, he saw you look at something and he could tell by your face and body language if you wanted it or not. he calls it his hoon-sense, something you tease him for relentlessly. but he takes pride in it. takes pride in knowing what you think without language. so you best believe that when you pick out the venue, he doesn’t even leave the car when he saw the critical look on your face. “okay, i’ll text the wedding planner .we’ll try the other location.” baffled, you look at him. “hoon, we haven’t even seen the inside.” “yes and you have been looking like you drank sour milk ever since we drove by the concrete jungle of houses just now,” he shoots back with a raised brow. you cringe, “i tried to not be too judgy, but i just th—” “baby you have no reason to explain yourself, you deserve a perfect wedding.” at that, your heart squeezes. you place a hand on his cheek, his body now turning to you. “as long as you’re gonna be there with me saying yes that’s all i need.” a sickeningly sweet smile spreads on his face as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “nothing in the world could stop me from being there.”

ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ makes even something like wedding cake tasting kinky.

now, i have to elaborate that the both of you went to countless bakers, desperate to find the perfect cake. but it just so happens that you both are extremely indecisive when it comes to cake flavours. so instead of driving all over the country, spending days on end trying to find the perfect mix you just ordered the cake home for easier comparison. at first, it was just sitting down on the couch, forks in hand while digging into the collection of cakes in front of you. after day three it got boring, so what better thing to do than to get a little kinky with it. afterall, sunghoon has been meaning to try out food play! that’s how you found yourself lying on the bed, chest covered in both chocolate and lemon cake, while your soon to be husband licks circles around your nipples. “mmm, i like this combination actually,” he mumbles against your skin, while you writhe under him. his strong hands are placed on your waist, pinning you down so that you cannot escape he bites, licks and kisses. what began with carefully placed frosting on your skin soon turned into mushed cake spread on your stomach and thighs. his mouth and hands seem to be everywhere at the same time and you lose yourself in his touch, in his warmth. his tongue circles the inside of your thigh, licking up a slow stripe up to clean the frosting off of you. he’s so close to your throbbing pussy and you whine in desperation. sunghoon’s head perks up, almost cooing at the pout on your face. “my pretty girl, didn’t mean to tease you 'm sorry.”, he says before dipping down again, tongue darting out to circle around your swollen clit. you yelp, legs snapping against his head, caging him between your thighs. he smiles into your pussy, tongue flattening to lap at the juices spilling out of you. “sweetest thing in the world,” he mumbled barely audible. “just gonna have you cum all over our cake hm?” you sob at the combination of filthy words and obscene sounds he’s producing while practically making out with your pussy. your nails dig into his bicep, one hand grasping his hair for dear life and he moans at the sting. “can’t have anybody else tasting you though, no you’re all mine. all mine to taste, all mine to love.” yeah he’s gonna keep ordering more cakes just to keep doing this.

ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ once saw your ring lie on the bedside table and got so scared that you're calling the engagement off.

it had been a stressful day since the second he woke up. he had rushed into the shower, stumbled into the kitchen to make some coffee and went on a hunt for his belt. yet no matter how stressed or busy he is, he always and i mean always gives you a kiss before he leaves. you were still buried under the covers and he pressed the lightest kiss to your temple. not daring to rip you out of your sleep. after a gruel day, all he wanted was to lie in bed, in your arms and hear all about your day. when he couldn’t find you in the living room or kitchen he didn’t panic, you’re probably already in bed, it was late in the end. but the bedroom was dark, not a sign of you. he was about to continue his search when he saw something sparkling near your side of the bed. with horror he realised what it was. your ring. not just any ring, but your engagement ring. sunghoon has experienced moments of fear before, but nothing could ever compare to the feeling of pure dread and terror that ram through his veins that moment. did you change your mind? what could he have done that caused this? with his hands in bis hair, he read over your last messages in his phone. nothing out of the ordinary. his panicked eyes scanned the room for a letter, had there been one in the kitchen? “hoon?” he swear his soul left him for a moment before running over to you, clutching you tight to his chest. “whoa, are you okay? rough day at work?” “i thought you were gone.” his voice trembling as tears ran down his face. you leaned back, looking at him with a baffled expression. “what?! i was in the shower.” only now did he realise your wet hair, the towel around your body. “oh…” the sight of him broke your heart, he looked so broken. your hands gently cupped his face, thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheek. “how did you come to that conclusion my love?” you questioned softly. he blinked, eyes travelling over to your bedside table. “your ring.” “oh hoon,” you cooed. “i always take it off when i go shower, im scared to drop it in the shower or the sink. have you never noticed before?” the poor man in front of you could only shake his head, still recovering from the shock. “my baby, come here.” you took his hand, leading him over to the bed. without words, his head on top of your chest, arms gripping onto your waist for dear life. it took a while before his shoulders un-tensed exhaustion taking over as he felt his eyes grow heavy. “let’s get ready for bed sleepy boy,” you whispered against his brow bone. the entire nighttime routine his hands didn’t leave you for a second, eyes either on your face or the ring that finally glistened on your finger again.

ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ practices his vows in front of the mirror and starts crying every single time.

he would’ve taken this to the grave. the countless times of him trying to read his vows out loud, which are written on tear stained paper since he refused to read his biggest love confession off his phone. after a good three weeks of practicing, he made it until maybe the first quarter of the page before his eyes were so tear-filled he couldn’t see anymore. not that he didn’t have the vows memorised, no at this point they just fly around his brain at random times, whether that is while grocery shopping, doing the dishes or something simple like showering. the problem was that he gets so choked up at the thought of you standing in front of him in a wedding dress, looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, about to seal your vow of eternal love. the poor man is gripping the edge of the sink, taking deep breaths through his nose, slowly exhaling out of his mouth. his tears are beginning to pool at the bathroom floor when a knock makes him snap out of his mindset? “you okay in there man?” second later jungwons concerned face pop up behind the bathroom door. it was quite comical, the way both of them were just staring at each other. jungwons eyes glanced down, spotting the crumbled up paper in sunghoons hand. “ah,” jungwon exhaled. “vow practice?” before the poor guy knew what happened, the elder broke down in tears again. safe to say that the plans were cancelled and jungwon questioned the well being of his friend. at least it gave him material for the man of honour speech.

 ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ loves to call you his future wife.

it’s never “meet my fiance” with this man. no, “this is my future wife” is this mans favourite vocabulary after he proposed. before, he always called you his last name instead of your actual one, he loved the sound of it way too much. now, the energy doubled. he brought you up in every moment already, but now it’s him full on cheesing,full set of teeth showing and him putting an extra emphasis on the wife. you’re out ordering some food? after ordering for himself he goes “and for my future wife”, looking at you expectantly. in case you got takeout he puts your name down with his last name, you know, so that you can get used to it! he also forces you to practice your new signature. “baby, you’ll want to practice for signing the papers! i know you. if it doesn't end up looking how you want it on our wedding day, you’ll get upset. you look cute when your face goes all pouty, but that’s not the expression i want to see on your face on our wedding, okay?” but don’t believe this is a quick deal. nope, expect to be sitting down for 30 minutes minimum a day. “revisit the loops maybe? how about you do a bigger swoop on that letter? what if we try a more cursive approach with this one?” and you cannot even bring yourself to be mad at him because he’s just beaming up at you with the sparkliest eyes :(

ꜰɪᴀɴᴄᴇ́!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ keeps trying to guess what your wedding dress will look like.

of course he knows your style, heck he knows every tiny thing about you ! but a wedding dress is just so specific.just what exact shade will you choose? how long will your train be? will you wear your hair up, down, half up half down? this man is constantly on pinterest, trying to find clues. after you blocked him from seeing your account, which led him to make a whole new account. after privatising that board, he jut downright tries to steal your phone. you’re gonna find yourself wrestling this man on the couch, whole bodies entangled as you try to hide your phone from him. be warned, he will try to distract you with kisses every chance he gets! “hoon, no! it’s a surprise, only my mum and my best friend know and i want to keep it that way.” a little breathless, he hovers over you. eyes sparkling, wide grin on his face; god he was so devastatingly handsome. “i know what you’re trying to do…” you murmured. “it’s not gonna work, put the puppy eyes away lover boy.” with a dramatic sigh he flops down, strong arms besides you making sure he doesn’t crush you. his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck and you can feel him take a slow,deep breath in. “whatever,” he mumbles against your skin, sending little shivers down your spine. “ you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” your hand mindlessly starts playing with some of his hair strands, nails softly dragging over his scalp and he releases a sigh of content. his arms wrap around your waist, making sure you’re physically as close as possible. “still not showing you,” you whisper before pressing a kiss on his temple. “come on!”

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, Although I know you will never read this, it is still for you. Consider this my desperate attempt to finally let out all the things I have left unsaid. I have never been too good with words, but then again, neither are you. I wish communication weren’t so off-limits between us. When did that even start? When did we even make that silent deal? I think I am addicted to what you make me feel. I don’t think I would call it affection, let alone love. But somehow, every time I see you, I get this overwhelming feeling that nothing else matters. Those fleeting few hours make the heavy buzz in my head quiet down, but how do you even do that? I mean, we barely talk. The silence kills me a little more every time, because I want to know you so deeply. I have always wanted to know you, Sunghoon. I just wish you trusted me enough to let me see more, to see past the kisses, the marks and the sex. To be honest, I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like. Maybe it is this ache. Maybe this is it. Much love? Y/N

you didn’t even think you remembered the exact color of his eyes. looking at sunghoon — really looking at him — was rare. eye contact wasn’t ever really your thing, but the fact that he was the one actively choosing to avoid it hurt more than you would ever admit.

there were too many things you couldn’t admit. not to yourself, and definitely not to him. you were constantly trapped in a lie you hadn’t even planned on building. it just happened.

it happened somewhere between all your casual hookups and that silent promise you made to keep things strictly casual. why would you get attached when you didn’t even truly know him? the empty pit in your stomach every time he thrust into you one last time seemed to give you the answer you were trying so hard to ignore.

was it just the attention? was it the years of being invisible, of not being touched, held, or even spoken to? or was it something real? the questions consumed you every night before you fell asleep, pulling you into an endless spiral of pure insecurity. you felt like you were the textbook definition of pathetic.

because the worst part wasn’t even the way he looked right through you, it was how easily you let him do it. you would lie there long after his footsteps echoed down the hallway, your skin still feeling warm where his fingers had pressed into your hips. you wanted to hate him for making it so easy for himself. no soft morning light, no hushed “text me when you get home”, no gentle lingering after the high wore off. just a plain shirt pulled over his head, a brief nod toward the door and that familiar silence settling back into the room.

but you couldn't hate him. how could you, when you were the one who signed up for this unspoken contract? you were the one who answered his late night texts in minutes, pretending you were still awake, pretending you didn't mind being his only when the rest of his world went dark.

you would swallow the lump in your throat, pull the cold sheets up over your bare shoulders and breathe in what was left of his scent on the pillow. you were starving for something he was never going to offer, yet you kept begging for the crumbs.

daylight was always the cruelest part. during the day, sunghoon belonged to the rest of the world. he belonged to his friends, to his laughter across crowded rooms, to the effortless composure he wore like a second skin around people who actually got to hear him. when your paths crossed in broad daylight under the harsh glare of real life, he didn't even flinch. his gaze would glide right past you, brushing over you as if you were nothing more than a shadow he had learnt to walk around.

and you played your part perfectly. you would mould your face into something cold and indifferent, pretending your ribs weren’t pressing uncomfortably tight against your chest every time.

that was the unspoken rule, wasn't it? sunlight erased whatever happened between you two. daylight rendered every bruise, every gasp and every tangled limb. you would sit alone in your room afterward, nursing the quiet anger in your chest. you would make promises to the empty air. this is it. next time he reaches out, i’m ignoring it. i’m going to block him. you would repeat it over and over until you almost believed you had control.

but then midnight would creep in. your phone would buzz against the nightstand. a plain “you home?” that took him three seconds to type.

and before your brain could even process the indignity of it, your fingers were already moving. you would send back a compliant “yeah”, hating yourself for the sudden pulse of adrenaline in your veins as you unlocked your front door and waited for his figure to fill the doorway.

because as long as he kept coming back, you could pretend he needed you. and even if he only wanted you when the rest of the world went quiet, even if he only loved the silence you kept for him, it felt safer than being nothing to him at all. you were drowning in him, but at least his hands were the ones holding you under.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, Another day of being a pathetic loser and doing this. But I just need to get all of this off my chest, and putting pen to paper is somehow the only way I know how to do it. Remember that one brief conversation we had? Someone called at three in the morning and you declined it without a second thought. You looked over at me and said you just preferred texting over calling. Although I knew that was probably not the reason why you didn’t pick up, I felt ridiculously happy about you giving me an explanation at all. Even if it wasn’t entirely honest, you considered the possibility of me wondering about it, and that was enough. It also showed me we have something in common, which is the reason why I’m doing this at all. I wish I could speak up, Sunghoon. Not just with you, but in general. My voice has always felt like a stone trapped at the bottom of my throat, but especially when I am around you. Every time I am lying next to you in the dark, there are a million things pressing against the back of my teeth. I want to ask you about your day. I want to know what scares you, what keeps you awake when I’m not there, what song you listen to when you are driving alone. But instead, I stay quiet. I swallow every word, every question, every confession until my throat burns with everything I am holding back. Because speaking out loud means making it real, it means risking the fragile arrangement we have. I know that if I open my mouth and demand anything more than the bare minimum, you might just turn around and walk out. Sadly, I am too terrified of losing these hours with you to ever take that chance. So I will handwrite it all instead. I will pour my voice onto paper where you will never have to hear it, so that it can’t burden you. It’s stupid, isn’t it? Celebrating a half-baked lie about a missed phone call just because it meant you acknowledged me. But when you are starving, even the smallest crumb feels like a feast. I will keep hiding behind these quiet letters, Sunghoon. Because as long as I stay silent, I still get to keep whatever little piece of you you are willing to leave behind. Yours truly, Y/N

the ice in jay’s glass had completely melted, watering down his drink until it was barely touched, but neither of you had made a move to leave. the diner was almost empty, as jay had spent the last ten minutes watching you shred a paper napkin into tiny pieces.

when he finally spoke, his voice cut straight through the low hum of the refrigerator behind the counter. "you actually need to let it go, y/n." he pushed his glass aside and leaned across the table, resting his forearms on the sticky vinyl. "remember, he’s my friend. i’ve known him for years. that’s my brother, but… let’s be honest. he’s being an asshole."

"you just… wouldn’t understand." you muttered, refusing to look up from the pile of white paper shreds scattered between your hands.

"i understand that you have this weird hyperfixation on him, y/n." jay said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding full of concern. "i’m not blind."

"we’re just having sex, jay!" your voice pitched higher than you intended, echoing slightly in the quiet diner. the bell above the entrance jingled as a stranger walked in, making you wince, pulling your shoulders in and dropping your voice to a harsh whisper. "why is it so bad if i sleep with someone? you do it all the time and no one bats an eye!"

jay leaned back, watching you with a look of exhausted frustration that made your stomach twist. "do i really have to explain to you why it’s different?"

you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper as your fingers froze over the torn napkin. you couldn't meet his eyes, because you knew if you looked at him, he would see the tears stinging in the back of your lids.

so you stayed silent.

"that’s what i thought." jay sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was nursing a headache you had given him.

the silence stretched out. you hated that jay was the one sitting across from you right now. he was the bridge between you and sunghoon — jay was the one who had introduced you at a chaotic house party, back when sunghoon was just a handsome stranger you didn’t even think of approaching. jay felt responsible for the wreck you were turning into.

"you know the last time he and i actually talked about something real?" jay asked softly, his anger draining out, replaced by quiet pity. "a real conversation. not just about sports or clothes or plans for the weekend."

you didn't answer, but your chest tightened.

"it was about his ex." jay said.

you didn't flinch. you didn't gasp or snap your head up in shock. you just kept staring at the shredded paper, your knuckles turning white where you gripped the edge of the table.

you weren't surprised, not even a little bit.

in a twisted way, it felt like the final piece of a puzzle settling into place. you already knew about their messy breakup, but hearing it out loud now, it explained the hollow look in sunghoon's eyes when he held you down. it explained why he never asked about your day, why he hurried to put his shirt back on before the sun came up, why he maintained that thick wall between you. you probably weren't a person to him. you were just a ghost to keep another ghost company. a body to fill the quiet so he didn't have to hear his own thoughts.

"he's clearly not over her, y/n." jay continued, reaching across the table to gently pull the torn napkin away from your trembling fingers. "he's nowhere near over her. and you’re letting him use you to fill a spot that isn't yours. you're going to destroy yourself trying to warm up someone who's still freezing over someone else."

"i know." you whispered. the confession scraped against your throat.

jay blinked, caught off guard by how easily you gave in. "you know? then why the hell are you still doing this to yourself?"

you finally looked up, your vision blurring around the edges as you met jay's concerned eyes. "because even if he's thinking of her…" you whispered, your voice shaking uncontrollably. "he's still coming to my room. and right now... i'd rather be his second choice than nothing at all."

"y/n…"

"i’m just being honest. you snapped weakly, wiping a stray tear with the back of your sleeve. "i know it’s pathetic, okay? you don't have to say it."

"look… why don’t you just try to talk to him?" jay pushed. "he’s not a bad person after all. if he knows this is something that actually matters to you, he might give you some kind of reassurance. explanations, maybe?"

"sunghoon is not exactly the kind of guy to give me “explanations”, you know?" you let out a dry laugh, totally humorless. "he doesn't do that shit with me, jay. you know that better than anyone. the moment i open my mouth and demand clarity, it's over."

"and would that really be the worst thing?" jay countered, leaning closer across the table until you couldn't avoid his stare. "because from where i'm sitting, you're already breaking into pieces. you’re so terrified of losing the bare minimum that you’re letting him hollow you out from the inside. you think you're keeping him, but you're just watching yourself drown in slow motion."

you bit your lip so hard you felt the faint copper sting of blood again. "you don't understand..."

"i do understand." jay interrupted gently. "he doesn't talk about her to you because you've made it so easy for him to pretend everything is fine. you answer his texts at two in the morning and you never ask for anything. he has no idea how much this is killing you because you act like you're completely fine with being a secret."

the words hit you like a violent wave. jay was right, and that was the most terrifying part. you had built a prison out of your own silence, convincing yourself it was the only way to stay close to sunghoon.

"if you talk to him," jay said softly. "at least you'll know. if he cares about you, even a little bit, he’ll hear you out. and if he doesn't..." jay hesitated, his eyes full of a preoccupied pity. "...then at least you stop wasting your heart on that."

you stared down at the wet ring left on the table by your melting glass. the thought of confronting sunghoon made your stomach twist into sick knots. you could already imagine his unreadable expression, the way his jaw would tighten, the sudden chill that would fill the air before he turned and walked out your door for good.

you knew how it would end. you knew it was a disaster waiting to happen.

but as you sat there under the diner lights, looking at the broken bits of paper scattered between your hands, you realized you couldn't keep living in the dark forever.

"fine." you breathed out, the word barely a whisper, yet heavy enough to break whatever was left of your composure. "i'll talk to him."

jay reached across the table and squeezed your wrist, offering a reassuring nod. "it's going to be okay, y/n."

you nodded back, pretending to believe him, dread settling deep in your chest. because deep down, you knew the moment you asked sunghoon to choose you for a second, you were going to lose him forever.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, I am writing this on the day I probably, completely fuck it all up. No matter how much I have worked on accepting reality, people always say hope is the last thing you lose. I know you don’t feel the same way about me, I know it. But a stupid part of me keeps asking: what if? What if you have slowly grown to care about my presence, even if it is just the smallest piece of you? “El roce hace el cariño”, my mom used to tell me. Closeness breeds affection. The belief that if you share enough space with someone — if you touch them enough, hold them in the dark, and breathe the same air long enough — something soft and real is bound to grow between you. I have been clinging to that proverb for months, praying that my warmth would eventually rub off on your cold edges. You probably understand that kind of desperation better than anyone. After all, why is it that you keep trying to go back to her, if not because of hope? Why do you keep running back to a ghost, if not for the foolish belief that things might turn out differently this time? We aren't so different, Sunghoon. We are both just tragic fools holding onto people who are already miles away from us. You are anchored to someone who left you in the past, and I am anchored to a version of you that doesn't even exist outside my own head. Jay told me that I need to speak up. He thinks that if I finally ask you for clarity, maybe you will give me something to hold onto. But Jay doesn't see the way your eyes go completely hollow the second things get too real. He doesn't realize that the only reason I have lasted this long in your life is because I made myself as quiet and undemanding as possible. I know what is going to happen tonight. I know that the second I break our unspoken rule of silence, the fragile illusion we built will shatter. You will pull your walls back up, grab your coat and walk out my door. And yet, here I am, getting ready to ask you anyway. Because starving like this is slowly destroying me, Sunghoon. I would rather let you break my heart all at once tonight than spend another month watching it erode into nothing. If this is the last time you ever come to my room... at least I will know I tried. Yours, even at the end, Y/N

he was already on the sofa with you, his cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. it was the same routine it had been for months: no prelude, no softly whispered greetings, just the immediate dive into the dark where you didn't have to talk.

every nerve in your body screamed at you to just yield. your mind spun into a dizzying spiral of panic. shut up, a loud voice in your head begged. just close your eyes and let him touch you. if you say a single word, you ruin it. you lose him. just take what he’s giving you. you knew how delicate this fragile agreement was. one wrong step, one wrong sentence, and it all would shatter into dust.

but beneath the sheer terror of losing him was a small burn of indignity. you were a human being, sitting on your own couch, letting someone who barely looked you in the eye use your body to quiet down his problems. didn't you deserve five minutes of honesty? didn't you deserve to be listened to, just once, before you let him drown out your thoughts again?

before you could stop yourself, your hands pushed firmly against his chest. "wait, sunghoon."

he paused, pulling back just an inch. for a second, he looked genuinely confused, his eyes blinking down at you as if his brain was trying to process why the routine had suddenly broken. it was an alien look on him — he wasn't used to you doing this.

"i wanted to talk about something first." you whispered, your heart hammering violently against your ribs.

"what…?" the cold edge that instantly entered his tone made your breath hitch. the tiny spark of courage you had been clinging to disintegrated in a fraction of a second. the sheer power he held over you hit like a physical weight. just a single word from his lips made you want to drop your hands, apologize, and pretend you had never spoken.

"about…" you swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the tight lump in your throat. "i-i talked to jay today."

"so?"

"i mean… we talked about you." you stumbled, unable to hold his gaze. "about you and your ex, to be exact."

the momentary confusion on sunghoon’s face vanished, replaced by an abrupt spark of realization that hardened into icy annoyance. he pulled away from you, sitting back on the couch cushion and staring at you like you had crossed an unforgivable line.

"and why the fuck are you two talking about that?" he asked, his voice low and chillingly quiet.

"jay is my friend too." you insisted, your fingers twisting frantically into the fabric of your jeans. "he’s just looking out for me."

"there is nothing to look out for, y/n." he let out a harsh breath, tilting his head up toward the ceiling before looking back at you. "i don’t get how my relationship with my ex has anything to do with you."

the words cut right through you, exposing the pathetic truth of your standing in his life. you felt exposed, naked and small sitting next to him on the sofa, but the bitter ache in your chest forced you to keep pushing.

"i-i mean… sunghoon, i don’t want to be in the middle if you’re going to get back together." you stammered, your voice trembling as you reached for any sliver of self-respect. "i think… i think if we’re doing this, then i deserve a… an explanation?"

sunghoon fell completely silent. the quiet that settled over the living room was suffocating. he just stared at you, his face a completely unreadable mask, before his jaw tightened.

"you’re not in the middle." he said evenly, every syllable laced with detached finality. "you are not between anybody. don’t… let’s not fucking do this. when we get back together, i will tell you."

you froze. it was like the air had been sucked straight out of your lungs and the entire world had stopped moving. you hadn't realized how much the simple grammar of a sentence could completely tear a person apart until that exact moment.

there was no conditional in his voice. no “if”. when. it wasn't a distant thought. it was a guaranteed outcome, a future he had already mapped out in his head, it was a reality where he was going back to her, and you were just the temporary space-filler on his way there.

sunghoon pushed himself off the sofa, grabbing his jacket off the armrest in one motion. "i’m leaving, y/n." he snapped, refusing to look at you as he threw the coat over his shoulders. "you know damn well this is not what we are about."

"no! sunghoon, wait!"

panic seized you, completely obliterating whatever dignity you had tried to defend. you scrambled off the couch, your hands reaching out instinctively to catch his sleeve, completely terrified of the cold distance growing between you.

"no, please, sunghoon, wait." you begged, tears burning hot behind your eyes. "i just meant… i don’t want to cause trouble. and i… i know what this is about, i know how it goes, but… i have feelings too, you know?"

sunghoon stopped, but he didn't turn around to comfort you. he just looked down at your hands clutching his sleeve, his expression deadened, like you were a stranger making a pathetic scene in public.

"that's your problem, y/n." he said, his voice void of a single drop of warmth. "i never asked you to feel anything. i never lied to you." he yanked his arm back, loosening your grip effortlessly. "if you can't handle this, then we're done."

the words tasted like ash in your mouth. a white-hot flare of rage exploded inside you — blinding anger at him for being so disgustingly cold, but even more so at yourself for standing there like a pathetic loser. you wanted to scream at him, you wanted to slap that detached look right off his face. you wanted to push him out the door, slam it shut, and tear down every single memory of him. you hated him. god, you hated him so much in that moment it made your throat burn.

but as he turned his heel toward the door, panic instantly swallowed the rage whole.

the thought of him walking out that door, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of your empty apartment, terrified you far more than any humiliation ever could. if he left tonight, he would never come back. you would just become another mistake he erased from his head on his way back to her.

you couldn't let him leave. you were too weak, too pathetic, too addicted to the poison he fed you.

so before he could reach the doorknob, you stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "sunghoon." you choked out. your voice trembled, but you forced the tears back. you couldn't be needy right now, needy got you abandoned. you had to be useful, you had to be what he wanted.

you reached up, your fingers shaking violently as they brushed the cold collar of his jacket. you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face, couldn't bear to see the sheer indifference in his eyes, so you stared at the base of his throat.

"i'm sorry." you whispered, hating yourself with every fiber of your being as the words spilled out. "forget i said anything. i don't care. i don't care about an explanation."

you slid the jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor between you. sunghoon didn't stop you, but he didn't help you either. he just stood there, watching you with that suffocating silence, testing how much you would degrade yourself just to keep him in the room.

your hands moved down to his waist, unbuckling his belt with rushed movements. you stepped closer until your chest was flush against his shirt, lifting your chin to press your lips against the familiar line of his jaw.

"please." you breathed into his skin, your heart breaking into a million jagged pieces with every word. "just stay. you don't have to talk. you don't have to explain anything. just stay with me."

sunghoon let out a exhale through his nose. for an agonizing second, he didn't move. then, with a sudden, rough grip, his hands slammed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn't a single inch of space left between your bodies.

there was no tenderness in it. no soft kiss to reassure you, no gentle touch to ease the ache. he backed you up until your thighs hit the sofa, shoving you down onto the cushions and completely crowding over you.

his mouth smashed against yours — not to comfort you, but to shut you up. the kiss was demanding, and you opened your lips instantly, drinking him in as if you were a dying person in a desert. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down harder, needing the sheer physical weight of him to crush the unbearable agony in your chest.

he pulled back just an inch, his chest rising and falling against yours, but he didn't let you go. his fingers tangled roughly into the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back until you had no choice but to look up into his eyes. there was an almost mocking glint in his gaze — a cruel amusement that made your stomach twist into a knot of humiliation.

"what happened to all those questions, y/n?" he murmured, his voice low. his thumb pressed hard against your bottom lip, dragging it down until your mouth parted. "i thought you wanted an explanation. i thought you had feelings."

the word sounded disgusting coming out of his mouth. a weapon he was throwing right back in your face. you swallowed hard, another fresh burn stinging behind your eyes. he was mocking you when you were already on your knees. but the threat of him walking out was still hanging in the air like a blade, and you were too much of a coward to test it again.

"i don't." you rasped out, hating yourself so much the words almost choked you. "i don't care about any of that."

"liar." sunghoon whispered against your skin, letting out a humorless breath that brushed over your cheek. his grip on your hair tightened just enough to make a helpless sound escape your throat.

he shifted his weight, crowding over you so heavily that your back sank deeper into the sofa cushions. his free hand slid down your front, his long fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and tugging them down with a single pull that tore a quiet gasp from your lips.

"you're so pathetic." he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pulled your clothes away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool living room air. "you'll let me do whatever i want as long as i stay, won't you?"

every single word was a deliberate slap, but your body betrayed you anyway. a shiver ran down your spine at the touch of his cold knuckles dragging up the inside of your thigh. you hated how your pulse hammered in your ears, hated how desperately your core throbbed for the distraction, for the release he held over you like a leash.

"yes." you whispered into the dark, completely surrendering the last shred of pride you possessed. "just... please, sunghoon."

"say it properly." he commanded softly, his hand pressing flat against your bare stomach, forcing a ragged breath out of you. his tone wasn't gentle. it was demanding, a test to see how far into the dirt you would drag yourself just to keep his hands on you. "tell me what you want."

your fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle beneath his shirt as you dragged him closer, unable to look him in the eye as you admitted it out loud. "i want you." you choked out, your voice breaking. "please... touch me."

a low sound rumbled in his chest. not satisfaction, but the cruel validation of a man who knew he owned you completely. instead of giving you what you wanted, he abruptly caught both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them against the back of the sofa. he pulled away, sitting up and looking down at you with terrifying detachment.

"you don't get to ask for anything, y/n." he released your wrists, shifting his weight back until he was sitting up on the edge of the cushions. he looked down at you as he gestured toward the floor in front of him with a single tilt of his chin. "if you want me to stay tonight, you’re going to have to earn it."

the words hung in the quiet living room. a wave of nausea hit you, instantly freezing whatever heat had built up in your body. he wasn't even going to give you the delusion of shared touch, he literally wanted you on your knees. he wanted you completely broken down, serving him just to prove how little self-respect you had left.

your stomach churned with a blinding rage. get up, your mind shrieked. tell him to go to hell. push him out and lock the door. but as your eyes drifted up to his face, seeing his posture already shifting like he was seconds away from standing up and walking out forever, the anger vanished into terror. you couldn't do it.

with trembling limbs, you slid off the sofa, dropping onto your knees on the cold floor right between his legs. the sheer humiliation of it made your throat feel like it was closing up.

sunghoon didn't smile, he didn't look pleased. he just sat back, staring down at you with those unreadable eyes as he fully unfastened his belt. "well?" he murmured, his voice laced with cruel impatience.

you moved before your mind could protest, hurriedly freeing him from his underwear. he was already fully hard, a slick drop gleaming at the tip. it was the silent proof that he had anticipated your surrender long before you gave it, he knew you would break with quiet certainty.

your trembling hands took hold of him, stroking his cock with a steady rhythm, using his pre-cum to keep the movement fluid. every part of you was striving to give him a reason — any reason — to keep you in his head. sunghoon watched your submission with his heavy gaze before lightly slapping his hot length across your cheek, leaving a wet streak against your burning skin. you felt filthy, knowing you were degrading yourself purely for his amusement.

"open." sunghoon commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated right through you.

the moment your lips parted, he showed zero mercy. he didn't give your throat a single second to adjust, taking control instantly as his palm clamped around the back of your head, forcing you down to take all of him at once. a low groan broke from his chest, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair without a shred of gentleness, anchoring you in place as he dictated your every breath.

he set a ruthless pace, using your throat with absolute authority. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, blurring the sight of his beautiful face. he looked so pristine sitting back while you knelt on the cold floor at his feet, completely undone.

you tried to breathe through your nose, your hands clutching weakly at his thighs for leverage, but he didn't soften his pace for a second. he wanted you to know that while your dignity was disintegrating in that room, he was barely breaking a sweat.

"i know you like being treated like this." he whispered, his thumb coming up to press firmly into the pulse point at your neck. "so desperate to stay relevant to me."

he pulled back just enough to let you gasp for a second, only to drive back in deeper, choking out a muffled sob from your chest. sunghoon let out a breathy chuckle, the sound so devastatingly casual it made your heart shatter all over again.

"what an obedient slut." he murmured, his hips thrusting upward as his grip in your hair turned iron-clad.

without warning, he yanked your head back, causing a harsh gag to tear from your throat as he roughly pulled his cock out of your mouth. "on the couch. now."

his command left zero room for hesitation. there was no patience in his touch, no slow foreplay to ease you into it. his fingers grazed your slick center for one fleeting second — a cruel gesture meant purely to mock how deeply your body betrayed you — before he lined himself up.

"you brought this on yourself." he whispered against the skin of your neck, his breath hot, right before he drove straight inside you in one ruthless thrust.

the sudden stretch hit you so hard your back arched off the sofa, a breathless scream catching in the back of your throat. it was overwhelming enough to erase every single thought in your head.

sunghoon didn't pause to let you adjust. he immediately set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping forward against yours with a hard rhythm that echoed through the quiet room. his fingers dug brutally into your hips, anchoring you to the cushions as he took everything you had just offered him.

"sunghoon-" you whimpered, your head rolling back against the armrest as he hit deep spots inside you.

he didn't answer. he kept his jaw clenched, his eyes fixated on the wall above your head, checked out emotionally even as his body used yours with practiced precision. he was using the friction to drown out whatever mess was inside his own head, completely unbothered by the fact that he was breaking you in the process.

and the worst part — the most sickening, pathetic part of it all — was that as his weight pressed you down and his body filled yours over and over, the panic in your chest finally started to quiet down.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his cold face down into the crook of your shoulder, holding on for dear life as he drove you higher and higher towards an edge you didn't even deserve. you took every rough push, every callous bite of his teeth against your skin, swallowing the bitter taste of your own guilt just to feel him close.

it was a humiliating conflict. deep in your chest, a wave of self-loathing washed over you. you had never felt smaller, kneeling to his whims and letting him reduce you to a convenience right after you had tried to finally speak up.

yet, beneath the crushing weight of your ruined pride, your body was betraying you completely. every brutal thrust sent an embarrassing surge of heat pooling straight into your gut. your slick center clamped desperately around him with every impact, completely traitorous to the grief in your chest. you hated how good it felt. you hated that the friction was perfect, that your hips involuntarily twitched upward to meet his weight, seeking the very pleasure that was destroying you.

a choked whimper slipped past your lips, a sound so needy and small it made your stomach churn with disgust at yourself. you were weeping from the degradation, yet your body was begging for every single inch he offered.

sunghoon didn't offer a single word of comfort. his hand shifted down, his thumb pressing with precise intent right against your swollen center. the sudden stimulation shattered the last of your restraint. a gasp tore from your throat as your spine arched, the pathetic contrast of tears streaming down your face while your body chased the peak making your heart break all over again.

"fuck, y/n. you’re always so fucking needy." he rasped softly, his voice lacking affection. he wasn't looking at your face, his eyes now fixed purely on the mess between your thighs, watching your total submission. "so fucking wet for being such a demanding girl. come on my cock, come on."

your orgasm didn't bring relief, but a sudden rush of sensory overload. at first, the climax rippled through you in a blinding wave, making your body snap taut. your breath caught in your chest, your fingers digging into the seam of the couch as your center pulsated around him in tight spasms. for one fleeting second, you waited for the wave to recede so you could drag air back into your lungs.

but instead, sunghoon kept pushing. he didn't slow his hips, and he didn't lift his thumb from your swollen clit. he simply maintained that precise pressure, grinding straight through the peak.

a desperate sound broke from your throat as the pleasure instantly turned into an agonizing sensation. every microscopic movement of his thumb felt like a spark against raw skin, almost crossing the line into sensory torture.

"sunghoon, wait-" you gasped out, the word muffled instantly as you shoved your face deep into the cushion. you couldn't let him hear the full extent of the humiliating whimpers escaping you.

you hated your body for reacting like this. you hated that even as your heart was shattering under the weight of his coldness, your slick center was still twitching helplessly against him, betraying every ounce of dignity you had left.

instinctively, you tried to pull away. you twitched your hips back just a fraction of an inch, trying to escape the unbearable friction against your center.

sunghoon’s response was immediate. his fingers dug brutally into the skin above your hipbones, his iron grip anchoring you to the cushions so firmly you couldn't move a single millimeter. he didn't speak, he didn't offer a soft word or check to see if you were okay. he simply held you pinned down and drove his hips forward in another excruciating thrust.

"ah- no, please-" you wept, your back arching off the couch in a desperate attempt to diffuse the sensation. it was too much, every inch he slid inside feeling magnified ten times over.

you were completely at his mercy, weeping from the sheer humiliation of being so thoroughly used, yet completely paralyzed by the involuntary heat pulsing through your body.

sunghoon let out a gravelly breath against your shoulder. you could feel every spasm of your walls milking him, forced into continuous contractions by the overstimulation.

his pace picked up, each thrust driving deep into your hyper-sensitive core, eliciting a small sob from your lips every single time his cock fully went inside you. your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your toes curling as your body remained trapped in an endless loop of overstimulated release. you couldn't tell where the pleasure ended and the ache began, becoming just a shivering mess beneath his hands.

"this is what you wanted. so fucking take it." with three final thrusts, sunghoon went rigid above you. a guttural groan tore from his chest as his body shuddered, burying his full length inside your slick heat as he spilled himself deep into you.

he stayed there for a long moment, his weight pinning you down while his labored breath rattled against your ear. you lay completely still beneath him, your body continuing to twitch with tiny residual pulses that made you squeeze your eyes shut against the tears.

then, without a word, he pulled out. the sudden rush of cool living room air against your exposed skin felt like a slap.

you didn't move, you couldn't. you just lay there, face pressed into the damp sofa cushion, your chest heaving in shallow hitches. your thighs were still shaking, your muscles aching from the strain, but the physical sensation was already fading into numbness.

behind you, you heard the rustle of fabric. the metallic click of his belt buckle. the efficient sound of sunghoon dressing himself like he was packing up after a business transaction. he didn't check on you, he didn't reach down to cover your bare legs with the blanket nearby. he didn't even look at you.

he just existed in the room with you, completely untainted by the mess he had just made of your body and your heart.

you squeezed your eyes shut as the floorboards creaked under his body. every movement he made felt like he was erasing himself from your apartment in real time. you wanted to turn around, wanted to look at him to see if there was even a fraction of emotion in his eyes, a single crack in his composure. but you were too terrified of finding nothing at all.

"i'm leaving now." he said. his voice was even, completely devoid of any lingering heat or feelings.

you swallowed the bitter lump in your throat. you couldn't bring yourself to answer. you couldn't say okay, and you certainly couldn't say goodnight.

his footsteps drifted down the hallway toward the front door. you heard the soft slide of his jacket over his shoulders, the quiet jingle of his keys, and the door opening.

and then there was only silence.

the suffocating quiet settled over your apartment until it pressed down on your chest, making breathing feel like a chore. you slowly pulled your knees up to your chest, shivering as the cold settled into your bones. your body felt spent, stained with the physical proof of your total surrender. you had given up every single shred of self-respect you had left. you had let him degrade you, mock you, and use you until you were completely empty — and for what?

he was still gone. he was still going back to her.

a ragged sob tore through your throat, spilling over into the quiet room. you buried your face in your knees, finally letting the humiliation wash over you in full force. you hated him with everything inside you. but as you sat there alone in the dark, breathing in the faint trace of his cologne on your sofa, the most terrifying thought of all hit you.

if he texted you again tomorrow night, you knew you would still open the door.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, And the cycle repeats. Jay has nagged me so many times, I have lost count. You should probably repay me for that added damage, too. I have a genuine question for you — do you hate me? I ask this not as a hopeless girl who won’t ever be reciprocated by her sneaky link, but more as a person with fragile humanity. Someone who bleeds, who feels, and who sits alone in the dark long after you close my front door. Because the way you look at me when I ask for the bare minimum... it feels like disgust. It feels like you are offended by the fact that I exist, that I have a pulse, that I dare to ache when you bruise me. Why do you treat someone who gives you everything like they are dirty just for offering it? I know I do all of this to myself because of how painfully insecure I am, because I don’t respect myself enough to believe I deserve better. But Sunghoon, I have come to the certain conclusion that being aware of something does not make it easier for you to change it. Knowing that I am destroying myself doesn't give me the strength to stop. Knowing that you are using me to fill a spot that isn't mine doesn't stop my hands from reaching for you. Self-awareness isn't a cure; it is just a front row seat to watch my own pathetic ruin. I am watching myself drown in real time, and I still can't pull my head above the water. To be honest, I do enjoy the sex. It isn’t only about the fact that you are way too good at it. It is also because those quiet hours on my apartment are the only times I ever get to hold you. Even when you are rough, even when you are mean, even when you are using my body to quiet the noise in your own head — for those few hours, you are actually here. Your skin is against mine, your heart is beating against my chest. You are in my room, breathing my air, not anybody else’s. I let you break me because even your coldness feels like warmth when I have been freezing for so long. You left a little while ago. The apartment is freezing, my body still aches from the weight of you, and my face is still wet. The physical trace you leave behind makes me hate myself. But God help me, I think I hate the thought of an empty room even more. Yours, regardless, Y/N

as time went by, you kept your conversation with jay long lost in the back of your mind. there was no space for personal feelings in your transaction with sunghoon, and you couldn't afford to let anyone else's logic wake you up from the high. so things went back to normal. or at least, the version of normal you had forced yourself to digest.

but you could feel the presence of her more and more every single day.

it was in the tiny moments that used to seemingly be yours. it was the way sunghoon’s eyes flicked to his phone screen the second he sat up, his thumb swiping across the glass before he even reached for his shirt. it was the subtle shift in his posture when a notification lit up the dark room — a softness in his face that never, ever belonged to you. he was drifting further into the past with every passing week, and you were just the temporary anchor keeping him grounded while he waited for her to take him back.

you tried to get better. god, you tried so hard. you bought psychology books you couldn't bring yourself to finish, listened to jay’s gentle lectures about self-respect, and made endless mental lists of all the reasons you should hate sunghoon. you told yourself that tomorrow would be the day you finally blocked his number. tomorrow you would pick up the pieces.

but tomorrow always came with the terrifying reality of his absence, and your courage evaporated into nothing.

awareness was a useless weapon against an addiction. your self-worth was so thoroughly rotted, so completely tied to his touch, that without it, you felt like you didn't even exist. you were trapped in a loop: hate him, hate yourself more, crave his validation to erase the self-hatred, and end up hating yourself twice as much when he walked out the door.

it was another lonely thursday night in which he didn't come over. he didn't text. he didn't even send a one word message to tell you he was busy.

the quiet in your apartment felt suffocating. to stop the noise in your head, you opened a bottle of wine. and when that wasn't enough, you dragged out a half-empty bottle of cheap gin buried in the back of your pantry, drinking it straight from the glass just to feel the burn.

but alcohol didn't numb you the way you desperately hoped it would. instead, it just stripped away the fragile lie you maintained when you were sober. it made the insecurity scream.

by midnight, you were completely plastered, stumbling into the bathroom and leaning clumsily against the sink. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes glassed over, the rims of your eyelids raw and red. you hated what you saw. you hated your face, hated your body, hated the pathetic posture of a girl who spent her nights staring at her phone, waiting for a man who wouldn't even acknowledge her on the street.

you slumped down onto the cold tile floor, pulling your knees to your chest as the room spun around you. he is never going to love you, the liquor whispered, cold through the haze in your brain. she has his heart, his memories, his future. you're just the trash he steps on while he waits for her.

a sudden sob tore from your throat, echoing against the bathroom tiles. it wasn't just sadness, it was realization. you were dying in this apartment. piece by piece, night by night, you were sacrificing every single atom of your soul for a man who didn't even care if you were breathing after he left.

a dark wave of liquor-fueled clarity washed over you. you couldn't do this anymore. if you stayed in this loop for another month, there would be nothing left of you to save. so with trembling fingers, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. the screen blinded you in the dark. your thumb hovered over sunghoon’s name, your pulse hammering violently in your throat.

the alcohol gave you a reckless burst of courage — the kind born out of pure rock bottom. you didn't care about the rules anymore, you didn't care about playing it cool. you were going to force an end to this tonight, even if it destroyed you in the process.

you didn't press call. a text could be swiped away. a phone call could be ignored or muted with a flick of his thumb. you knew how easily he could dismiss your existence when you were just words on a screen. if you were going to burn this down, if you were going to force him to look at the wreckage he created, you couldn't do it from the safety of your bathroom floor. he had to finally look you in the eye.

with clumsy movements, your thumb tapped open the uber app. with your vision blurred from the alcohol and dried tears, you managed to type in his address — a place you had only been to a handful of times, always late at night, always under the strict rule that you were only an invited guest, never a surprise.

you didn't care about his rules anymore. his rules were a cage designed to keep you small and convenient.

you dragged yourself up from the tile, swaying violently as a wave of nausea rolled through your stomach. you didn't check the mirror again. you didn't fix your hair or wipe away the faint black smudges of mascara beneath your eyes. you just grabbed your coat off the rack, shoved your feet into the nearest pair of shoes, and practically stumbled out into the cold night air.

the uber ride was a nauseating blur. the city lights smeared through the window, the warmth of the car making your head spin even faster. sitting in the back seat, your mind lashed out at you in brutal waves. turn back, a terrified voice pleaded. you are out of your mind. if you show up at his apartment drunk like this, he will never speak to you again. he will look at you like you are insane.

but the alcohol in your blood spoke louder. let him look at you like you are insane. let him hate you. anything is better than being his dirty secret. you gripped the edge of the seat, your chest tight with a mix of drunk rage and suicidal bravery.

when the car pulled up to his building, you almost threw up right there on the pavement. you stumbled out into the chill of the night, your legs feeling heavy and detached from the rest of your body. you slipped through the doors of the lobby behind a resident who didn't even turn around, stepping into the carpeted elevator with your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was going to burst.

floor eight. the elevator chimed softly. the doors slid open, revealing the silent hallway. every step toward apartment 805 felt like your last. the courage that had fueled you in your bathroom was beginning to sour, leaving behind a sickening dread. the smell of cheap alcohol was noticeable on your breath, your clothes were messy, and your entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

what are you doing? your mind screamed as you stopped in front of his door. go home. please, just go home before you destroy what is left of yourself.

you reached out. your finger hovered over the metal button of the doorbell. you thought about every cold phrase he had ever said to you. when we get back together, i will tell you. you thought about how he treated you like a nuisance every time you dared to act like a human being with a heart. you thought about how much you hated him, and how much more you hated yourself.

so you pressed the button. the melodic chime echoed through the hallway.

you froze, holding your breath, your heart lodging in your throat. a second passed, then two. for a terrible moment, you thought he wasn't home, that you had traveled all this way just to break down in an empty hallway.

then, the faint sound of footsteps approached the door. a lock clicked.

you squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, bracing yourself to look at sunghoon, to say whatever reckless words were burning a hole in your chest.

the door swung open.

"sunghoon, i-"

the words died in your throat. the air evaporated from your lungs. it wasn't sunghoon.

standing in the soft light of his entryway was a girl. she was beautiful — effortlessly so, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that clearly belonged to him, her hair pulled up in a loose bun that spoke of absolute familiarity. she looked completely at home, completely secure, holding a glass of water in her hand as she blinked at you in confused surprise.

it was her. you immediately knew it was her.

she looked down at your disheveled clothes, taking in your glassy, tear-stained eyes and the lingering smell of alcohol clinging to you.

"can i help you?" she asked, her voice polite and completely unbothered.

the floor beneath your feet felt like it was dissolving into thin air. every drop of gin in your bloodstream instantly turned to ice. the drunken rage that had carried you into this building vanished, replaced by a shame so profound it made your knees buckle. you were standing in the hallway of his nice apartment, smelling of cheap liquor and dried tears, looking at a girl who looked like she belonged there.

she was wearing his clothes, she was drinking his water. she was standing inside his home like she had every right in the world to be there, while you were huddled outside on the doormat in the dark.

before your throat could force out a single word, a familiar voice drifted from inside the apartment.

"em, who is it?"

sunghoon walked into view. he was wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, his hair soft and unstyled — the relaxed, domestic version of him you had only ever been allowed to see in the pitch black hours of the night.

then his eyes landed on you. for a split second, his face went completely blank. then, a dark shift hardened his features, his jaw tightening so hard you could hear the snap of his teeth from where you stood.

"go back inside for a second, em." sunghoon said softly to her. his tone was gentle — a protective tenderness he had never once used on you.

the girl gave you one last look of quiet pity before stepping back. sunghoon slipped out into the hallway, pulling his front door shut behind him until the latch clicked into place, locking his real life safely away from the pathetic mess standing in front of him.

"what the fuck are you doing here, y/n?" he asked, his voice a venomous whisper that sliced straight through the quiet hall.

you swallowed hard, but your throat was completely dry. the overhead lights exposed every flaw, every smudge of makeup, every violent tremor in your hands. you felt naked. you felt insane.

"you..." your voice broke, a high squeak. you cleared your throat, trying desperately to anchor yourself against the wall as another wave of nausea hit you. "you lied to me."

sunghoon crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at you with an expression of pure annoyance. "i didn't lie about anything. are you drunk? go home before you make even more of an idiot of yourself."

"no." you choked out, the bitter tears finally spilling hot and heavy down your cheeks. "no, sunghoon, listen to me. you said... you said when you got back together with her, you would tell me." the words hung between you in the quiet corridor, small and pathetic. "you promised." you whispered, your fingers clutching the fabric of your coat. "you said, “when we get back together, i will tell you”. those were your exact words. why... why didn't you tell me then?"

you weren't asking because you expected an apology. you were asking because some broken part of you needed to know why you hadn't even earned a thirty second text message. why he had let you sit alone in your apartment, spiraling and drinking yourself blind, while he was inside playing house with her.

sunghoon stared at you. there was no guilt in his eyes. no regret, no hesitation. "because it's none of your business." he said evenly, every syllable delivered with brutal precision. "i don't owe you a timeline, y/n. i don't owe you a courtesy call. we weren’t together."

the sentence hit your chest like a physical blow, knocking whatever little air you had left straight out of your lungs.

"you weren't supposed to show up at my door like this." he continued, taking a half-step closer. "this is exactly why i kept you at a distance."

the words didn't even sting anymore. they just settled deep into your bones, joining the black pool of self-hatred you had been drowning in for months.

"i just wanted... a text." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "just a text so i didn't have to find out like this."

his expression was terrifyingly neutral, his posture completely relaxed, as if he were explaining a simple mathematical fact to a child who kept getting the answer wrong. "texting you would imply there was an expectation of accountability." he said, his voice smooth. "we never had that, y/n. we were two people who kept each other company when it was convenient. sending you a text to announce my personal decisions would have suggested there was something to break off. there wasn't." he leaned slightly against the doorframe, crossing his arms, looking down at you with a logical clarity that cut deeper than any insult ever could.

"you can't just say that." you rasped, a sudden surge of heat breaking through the ice in your chest. "you can't just stand there and pretend like there was nothing. sunghoon, we spent months together. you came to my apartment, you stayed in my bed, you put your hands on me. you… you can't just act like i'm a stranger who hallucinated all of it! even if we weren't official, even if it was just physical to you... there was something between us. a person deserves at least a text out of basic human decency."

sunghoon didn't flinch. he just stared at you, his eyes blank. "you're confusing physical proximity with emotional obligation, y/n." he said quietly, his voice steady. "you opened your door every time i came over. you let me stay. but i never promised you a title, i never promised you a future, and i certainly never promised you updates on my personal life."

he tilted his head slightly, taking in your trembling frame with a look that wasn't even angry anymore — it was worse. it was clinical pity. "i was transparent with you. you knew what this was." he continued, every word delivered with calm precision. "if you chose to attach romantic weight to sex, that was your decision, not mine. you can't hold me accountable for expectations you created in your own head."

the hallway seemed to tilt on its axis. his logic was so clean, so airtight, that it felt like a physical blow crushing your chest. was he right? had you made it all up? were all those quiet hours on your apartment just a delusion you had manufactured because you were too pathetic to accept reality?

you felt a dizzying sensation in your brain — like your own memories were rotting into lies right in front of you. he didn't even have to raise his voice or call you crazy. he just stated his facts, and in doing so, he made you look at yourself through his eyes: an unstable girl who had shown up drunk at his door, demanding emotional tax for a transaction she had willingly offered.

you were crazy, you had to be. you had taken his coldness and convinced yourself it was intimacy just so you wouldn't feel so alone.

"i'm ordering you a ride." sunghoon said, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen without an ounce of hesitation. "you need to go home, sober up, and stop this."

"sunghoon..." your voice was barely a whisper now, completely stripped of any remaining fight.

"it's done, y/n." he murmured, his thumb swiping across the glass. "the car will be downstairs in three minutes. please, don't come back."

he backed into his apartment, his fingers resting on the edge of the door. he didn't slam it. he just closed it softly, with a deliberate click that sealed his real life away from you forever.

the silence of the hallway crashed down on you. you stood there alone, your hands shaking so hard you couldn't even shove them into your coat pockets. you turned around on numb legs, stumbling down the long corridor and into the elevator. in the polished metal reflection of the elevator walls, you looked completely unhinged — standing in a building where you had never belonged.

when you stepped out into the night, the car was already there. you slid into the back seat of the silver sedan waiting at the curb, staring blankly out the window as the driver pulled away.

the ride home was a silent nightmare. every time you closed your eyes, sunghoon's voice echoed in your head, calm and reasonable, tearing down every boundary you had tried to set.

you can't hold me accountable for expectations you created in your own head.

he was right, and that was the most brutal part of the entire night. you had dragged yourself through the dirt, sacrificed your dignity, and let him break you open over and over again, all for a lie that you had written. you were the architect of your own ruin.

when you finally unlocked the door to your quiet apartment, the air felt thick. you didn't turn on the lights and you didn't take off your damp coat. you just walked into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, curling into a ball against the cold cushions.

the tears didn't come in a dramatic storm. they just spilled silently, soaking into the fabric beneath your cheek. you lay there in the dark, shivering from the alcohol leaving your system, listening to the deafening silence of the room.

you had gone to his apartment to force an end, to demand answers, to make him acknowledge your pain. but instead, you had returned home with the absolute certainty that you were completely unlovable.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, You didn’t even have to raise your voice to make me feel like I was insane. I keep sitting here in the dark, staring at the front door of my apartment, hearing your voice repeat in my head like a loop I can’t turn off. “You are confusing physical proximity with emotional obligation”. You said it so calmly, so logically. And the worst part is that you were probably right. You never promised me anything. You never held my hand in the daylight, you never said you loved me. You just came over when you were bored, took whatever you wanted from my body, left me bleeding on my own sofa, and walked out into the night. But I was the one who wrote the story. I was the one who took your coldness and called it passion because the alternative, accepting that I meant literally nothing to you, was too terrifying to bear. I convinced myself that if I endured enough pain, if I let you degrade me enough, if I became quiet and convenient enough, I would eventually earn a place in your life. What a pathetic delusion. When she opened your door, wearing your hoodie and holding your glass of water in the warm light of your hallway, I felt every single atom of my soul collapse. She looked like she belonged there, she looked safe. And when you walked up behind her, your voice was soft. You spoke to her with a gentle warmth that I didn't even know you had inside. You saved all your tenderness for others, Sunghoon. For me, you only ever had the dark. You only ever had hard hands, sharp words, and the cold snap of your belt buckle before you left me alone in the quiet. I went to your apartment because I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I wanted to demand an explanation, to make you feel an ounce of the guilt that was eating me alive. But you didn't even give me the dignity of a fight. You just looked at me like an inconvenience, an awkward little mess you had to sweep off your doorstep so you could get back to your real life. You dismantled my entire existence in two minutes without even trying. You made me realize that to you, I was never a heartbreak, or a mistake, or even a guilty pleasure. I was just a temporary fix until the person you actually wanted came back. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate you for every time you looked at me with disgust while your hands were on my skin. I hate you for making me feel like a dirty secret. But Sunghoon, I will always hate myself so much more. I hate myself for getting on my knees, for begging you to stay, for drinking until my liver burned just to get the courage to stand in your hallway and be tossed out like trash. I knew what you were doing to me every single step of the way, and I still let you do it because I thought having a ruined version of you was better than having nothing at all. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for what I let you turn me into. You told me not to come back, and you don't have to worry, because I won't. You win. You get to go back inside your warm apartment, hold her, and completely erase my name from your head. You get to walk away untouched while I am left sitting here in the dark, trying to figure out how to live with the empty shell of a person that was left behind. I hope she gives you everything you need and deserve, Sunghoon. And I hope you never have to know what it feels like to stand outside a locked door, realizing you destroyed yourself for someone who didn't even bother to learn your heart. Goodbye, Sunghoon, Y/N

letting go wasn't a single dramatic moment. it didn't happen the night you went home, and it didn't happen when you wrote a letter. it was a slow bleed that dragged out over weeks.

the first few days felt like physical withdrawal. your brain was so used to the volatile highs and lows of his existence that the sudden deafening quiet of your life felt like torture. every time your phone buzzed on the nightstand, your chest would leap with an instinctual spike of adrenaline before reality crashed back in. he was never going to text you again. you had finally become invisible to him, exactly as he had wanted.

for almost a week, you barely left your bed, only leaving on the days when work required you to be in the office. the living room felt tainted, the sofa cushions still holding the ghost of every humiliation you had endured just to keep him in the room.

jay was the one who finally broke the lock on your front door. he didn't lecture you. he didn't give you a self-righteous “i told you so”, even though he had every right to. he just walked into your dark apartment, picked up the empty alcohol bottles off the kitchen counter, and opened the blinds to let the morning sun sweep across the floor.

"you're allowed to mourn it." jay said softly, setting a cup of warm coffee on the coffee table in front of you. "even if it was toxic. even if he treated you like garbage, you still lost something you cared about, y/n. but just don't die in this room."

jay stayed for hours. he didn't force you to talk, he just sat on the rug, working on his laptop while you stared blankly out the window, anchored simply by the presence of someone who actually cared whether you were breathing.

the hardest part was the non-linear nature of recovery. some days, you felt a flickering spark of anger — a burning rage that made you want to scrub your skin until it was raw and throw away every shirt he had ever laid his hands on. on those days, you felt almost powerful.

but then came the nights. at two am, the loneliness would creep back into your bones. you would find yourself opening his contact card, staring at his chat thread, your thumb hovering over the call button. the muscle memory of your desperation was terrifying. your mind would bargain with you: just one call. just to see if he picks up, just to hear his voice. even if he is mean, even if he hates you.

it took every ounce of strength you had left not to surrender. but one night, as you were sitting on your bed while holding your phone, you stared at sunghoon's profile picture. you realized with sickening clarity that as long as his name remained in your phone, a pathetic part of you would always be waiting for a notification that was never coming. you were keeping the leash around your own neck.

so, with trembling fingers and a throat so tight it hurt to breathe, you tapped the three small dots at the top of the screen.

block contact.

a pop-up window appeared, asking if you were sure. your heart hammered against your ribs. blocking him felt like severing the final thread linking you to the person you had spent months destroying yourself for. it meant accepting that the story was irreversibly over.

you pressed the screen. just like that, his name vanished from your recent messages. you buried your face in your pillow and wept until your chest burned, mourning the girl who had let herself be brought so low, and mourning the illusion of the man you had tried so hard to save.

blocking his number gave you a brief illusion of control. for a few hours, you felt a strange triumph — as if tapping a screen could magically erase months of degradation and pull out the roots he had planted deep inside your brain.

but reality set in by the next morning. erasing his contact details didn't delete his voice from your mind. it didn't wash away the ghost of his hands on your hips, and it certainly didn't fix the broken foundation of who you were before he ever walked through the door. sunghoon hadn't created your insecurities, he had simply found the bleeding wounds you already had and poured salt into them until you were addicted to the sting.

going back to your usual work routine was a lesson in how ruined you actually felt.

you put on real clothes, applied enough concealer to hide the dark circles carved under your eyes, and forced yourself into the light of the outside world. but you walked through the office like a ghost. every interaction was filtered through the toxic lens of the self-hatred he had reinforced.

when a coworker took a second too long to reply to your email, your brain instantly spiraled: they hate you. you're annoying them. you're burdening everyone around you. when someone dropped their tone slightly in conversation, you immediately shrank back, convinced you had done something wrong, that you were naturally repulsive to the people around you.

the dynamic you had accepted with sunghoon — where you had to shrink yourself, compromise your dignity, and accept crumbs just to be tolerated — had leaked into every single corner of your life.

you couldn't look in the mirror without picking yourself apart. you would stare at your face under the bathroom lighting, tracing the lines of your cheekbones, wondering what it was about you that made you so easy to discard. she was worth keeping. she earned his soft voice, his quiet protectiveness, his home.

the hardest part of trying to get better was realizing that the enemy wasn't sunghoon anymore. he was gone, living his life without a single thought reserved for you. the enemy was the person sitting in your own skin — the part of you that still believed his cruel logic was the absolute truth.

jay kept checking in on you, bringing groceries, forcing you to step outside for fresh air, listening patiently when you talked. but even around jay, a dark thought lingered in the back of your brain: how long until he gets tired of you, too? how long until he realizes how broken and exhausting you are?

you were trapped in a cage of your own making, terrified of being alone yet convinced that anyone who got close to you would eventually see how worthless you were and walk away.

so recovery wasn't a sudden breakthrough or a grand moment of self-love, it was more like an unglamorous chore. it was forcing yourself to eat three meals a day even when your stomach almost killed you. it was stopping your hand every time you reflexively reached for your phone to check if maybe, somehow, an unknown number had popped up. it was catching yourself in the mirror, mid-critique, and forcing your eyes away before you dragged yourself down into another spiral.

you hadn't healed. the wounds were still raw and throbbing beneath the surface of your daily routine. but as you sat at your desk, going through the motions of a normal afternoon, you held onto one small thought.

you were miserable, but for the first time in months, you were miserable on your own terms. not kneeling on a cold floor, waiting for a man who didn't even care if you survived the night.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, I hope this is the last letter I ever write you, but I am not going to promise anything yet. My track record with keeping promises to myself where you are concerned has always been pathetic, and I am finally done lying to myself. It has been months now. Three or four, I have stopped counting the days like a prison sentence, which I suppose is some kind of progress. The seasons changed, the cold rain gave way to milder air, and the city moved on. A lot has happened since the night I stood on your doormat, smelling like cheap alcohol and looking like a mess. I blocked your number, just like I knew I had to. I stopped re-reading our old text threads. I let Jay pull me out of the apartment until the four walls of my living room stopped feeling like a crime scene. I even bought a new cover for the sofa, a warm shade that covers up the worn fabric where your body used to press mine down into the cushions. From the outside, it looks like a clean recovery story. People at work tell me I look healthy. Jay smiles when he sees me actually finishing a meal. But the truth is much uglier than that. You left scars that time hasn't quite figured out how to smooth over yet. The insecurities you fed didn't disappear when I blocked your phone number, they just took up permanent residence inside my head. I still catch myself shrinking in rooms I have every right to stand in. I still brace myself for sudden cruelty every time someone treats me with patience, convinced that quiet kindness is just a trap waiting to spring. Every time someone shows interest in me, my brain instantly asks the same sick question you answered for me in that hallway: how long until they realize how disposable I am? I don't even hate you anymore, I don't have the energy for it. When I look back at us now, the burning rage is gone, replaced by sadness for the girl who dropped to her knees on the floor between your legs, begging for a life you were saving for someone else. You weren't a monster, Sunghoon. You were just a man who didn't love me, and I was a person who hated herself enough to think that was acceptable. I don't know if I will ever fully fix what was broken before I met you, or what broke while I was with you. But I survived the silence that came after you closed your front door. I survived the late night withdrawal when I thought the urge to call you would literally split my chest open. I am writing this not because I want you to read it, but because I need to leave you here, in these pages, in these past months that have already slipped away into memory. I hope you are happy with her. And I hope, eventually, I learn how to live in my own skin without feeling like I need to apologize just for taking up space. Goodbye, Sunghoon. For real this time, Y/N

as months slipped by, the sharpest edges of your grief started to round off. the constant weight in your chest slowly dissolved into a more manageable hum in the background of your life. for the first time in what felt like years, you were not just surviving the hours between sunset and dawn.

you were actually having fun sometimes, too. it was a chilly friday evening when your coworkers dragged you out to a cozy pub down the street from the office to celebrate the end of a project. normally, you would have made up an excuse to retreat back to the safety of your bed. but lately, you had been saying yes.

and for two whole hours, you slowly forgot. you sat in a worn velvet booth surrounded by the warm glow of the lights, the clinking of beer glasses, and the mindless chatter of people who momentarily loved their lives. you let out genuine laugh that started in your stomach and crinkled the corners of your eyes. you looked down at your hands resting on the table and realized they weren't trembling. you weren't constantly checking your screen for a notification that would never come, and you weren't picking apart your reflection in the glass.

you were just a normal girl, having a drink with her coworkers, finally feeling at ease. the relief of it was almost intoxicating. you took a sip of your drink, leaning back against your seat, letting the warmth of the room wash over your skin. you were rebuilding. maybe, you were going to be okay.

your phone buzzed on the table, making the screen light up. Jay :D was displayed in white letters across the display.

an involuntary smile touched your lips. jay was your safe harbor, the person who had pulled you out of the wreckage without ever asking for a single thing in return. assuming he was just calling to check if you needed a ride home or to tease you about finally going out, you grabbed your coat.

"sorry, guys, i gotta take this. it's my friend jay." you said, offering an apologetic wave to the table.

"tell him we said hi!" one of your coworkers called out over the noise of the bar.

you pushed your way through the crowded pub, slipping through the front door and stepping out onto the quiet street. the cold night air hit your cheeks, contrasting pleasantly with the warmth of the bar inside.

you swiped the screen and pressed the warm screen against your ear. "hey, jay." you said, your voice light and completely unguarded. "what's up? i'm actually still at the pub with my coworkers."

silence met you on the other end. it wasn’t the static-filled silence of a dropped call, but a deliberate quiet. you heard the faint rustle of a jacket moving, followed by a ragged exhale that sounded too close to the microphone.

your smile faltered. the playful warmth in your chest instantly curdled into a cold sensation. "jay?" you asked, taking the phone away from your ear for a split second to make sure his name was still on the screen. it was. Jay :D - Calling...

you put the phone back to your ear, your breath catching in your throat as a sudden sense of dread began to bleed through your veins. "jay, is everything okay? why aren't you speaking?"

there was a long pause. and then, through the speaker of jay's phone, a low voice spoke — a voice that was rougher and far more broken than you had ever heard it before.

"hey, y/n."

every drop of blood drained from your face in a single second. the noise of the city street vanished, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heart hammering wildly against your ribs.

that wasn't jay.

the air in your lungs vanished. a sickening cold washed over you, plunging straight into your stomach. for a few seconds, you couldn't move, you couldn't breathe. the world shrank down to the dark street, the glowing screen pressed against your cheek, and the sound of his ragged breathing on the line.

"sunghoon?" your voice came out cracked, shaking so hard it barely sounded like you. "where is jay? why do you have his phone?"

a slurred laugh drifted through the speaker. it was bitter and seemingly heavy with liquor — a far cry from the logical man who had shut his door in your face months ago.

"he's in the bathroom." sunghoon muttered. "left his keys and his phone here. didn't take much to slip it into my pocket when he turned around."

you gripped the phone tightly, the initial wave of paralyzing shock instantly igniting into a blinding fury. he had invaded jay's privacy, he had stolen his phone. he was standing in some bar or apartment right now, using the only safe person left in your life as a backdoor entry into yours.

"are you fucking insane?" you spat, your voice trembling with a rage you didn't even know you were capable of holding. "give the phone back to jay. don't you ever-"

"i actually waited, y/n." sunghoon interrupted, his tone dropping into a spiteful murmur. the words were venomous, meant to cut you down, but beneath the cruelty, the slurring of his speech betrayed something else. "i honestly thought you’d call me a day after. i thought you'd send one of your pathetic little paragraphs, begging me to listen to you. begging me to let you come over." a harsh laugh escaped his throat. "i didn't think you had it in you to block me." he rasped, the sentence dripping with wounded entitlement. "who the fuck gave you the right to block my number?"

he had been waiting for you to beg. he had spent weeks expecting you to crawl back like you always did, feeding his ego with your suffering. the anger burning inside your chest solidified into something deadly. you felt utterly disgusted.

"you are sick." you whispered. "you stood in your hallway and told me i was nothing to you. you told me you didn't owe me a text, a courtesy call, or an explanation. and now you're stealing jay's phone like a coward because you wanted me to be miserable?"

"miserable?" sunghoon echoed. "you were already miserable, y/n. you were crying on the floor long before i ever said a word to you."

the anger that had flared in your chest suddenly gave out beneath you, collapsing into an aching void. the tears you had been fighting off spilled over your eyelashes, stinging against the chill of the street air.

you hated how easily he could do this. you hated that after months of agonizing work, after trying so hard to build a life where his name didn't haunt every shadow, a single sentence from him could strip you down to that same helpless girl begging on his doormat.

"do you think that's fair?" you choked out, your voice breaking right down the middle, thick with a sadness so deep it made your heart ache. "do you honestly think any of this is fair to me?" you wrapped your free arm tightly around your waist, shivering as the cold seeped straight into your bones. "i gave you everything. i let you tear down every single piece of dignity i had left because i thought... i thought if i stayed long enough, you would see me. but you treated me like trash. and even after you tossed me out, even after you got what you wanted... you still couldn't just let me bleed in peace?"

a heavy silence hung on the line. "do you hate me?" you whispered, the question barely louder than the breeze rustling the trees along the pavement. "is that what this is? do you hate me so much that you can't bear the thought of me moving on?"

sunghoon let out a bitter scoff, but the speed of his response betrayed the raw nerve you had just touched. "i don't hate you." he said, his tone dripping with a calculated malice meant to protect his own bruised ego. "hating you would mean you actually mattered enough to leave an impression."

the words were designed to destroy you. they were meant to leave you broken on the pavement, just like that night at his apartment. but as you stood there, wiping a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand, the brutal truth hit you through the haze of your grief.

he was saying the cruelest things he could think of. he was trying to reduce you to nothing, trying to make you feel small and worthless again. and yet, he was the one holding the phone.

he was the one who had watched jay walk away, who had taken his friend’s phone without permission, who had searched through a contact list just to dial a number he claimed to have forgotten.

"if i mattered so little..." you murmured, your voice trembling with tears, yet laced with clarity. "then why are you holding jay's phone right now, sunghoon?"

there was no quick comeback, no smooth reasoning. just a sudden stillness on the other end of the line.

"you can say whatever mean things you want to hurt me." you whispered, your heart breaking all over again for the girl who had begged him. "but you called me. you took his phone, and you called me. and that's the most pathetic thing you've ever done."

before he could force out another cruel word to save his pride, you pulled the phone away from your ear and pressed the red end call button.

the street went dead quiet again. the tears kept flowing, soaking into the collar of your coat as you stood alone in the chill of the night. it hurt so much it felt like your chest was going to cave in.

but you knew the truth now. he hadn't called because he didn't care. he had called because he couldn't stand the fact that you were finally slipping away.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, It wasn't my last letter, but somehow, it finally isn't my fault. You stole Jay’s phone. You actually took his property and dialed my number in the dark just because you couldn't handle the silence. It makes me so furious I can barely breathe. You stood in your hallway months ago and told me I meant nothing, that you owed me no timeline. You told me to go home and stop embarrassing myself. And yet, the second I actually obeyed you, the second I stopped crying on the sofa and blocked your number, it drove you out of your mind. You didn't call me because you missed me, you called because you missed your high. You missed having someone so thoroughly broken beneath your hands that it made you feel powerful. You were waiting for me to keep feeding your sickening ego, you wanted me to stay permanently ruined for you so you could feel important. And what terrifies me, what makes me hate myself even more than I hate you, is that it still hurts so fucking much. I want to tell you that I am completely over it. I want to pretend that hearing your slurred voice through the speaker didn't instantly pull me right back down to the cold tile floor of my bathroom. But it did. My heart still leaped when I realized it was you. I hate that my feelings didn't vanish the second you proved yourself to be like this. I hate that despite every cold word you have ever thrown at my head, a small part of me still longs for the warmth I convinced myself you had. The feelings are still there, I can't magically erase them overnight. But I am going to fight them. Every single hour, every single time my chest aches for you, every time my thumb hovers over a blank screen, I will fight it until there is nothing left of you inside me. You wanted me to stay trapped in that loop forever, waiting in the dark until you needed a distraction. But you don't get to have me anymore. I am still bleeding, Sunghoon. But I am never going to beg you again. Y/N

when you hung up that night, you braced yourself for the absolute worst. you expected to wake up the next morning completely unraveled, waiting for a relapse. you were terrified that hearing his voice again would strip away every inch of progress you had fought so hard for.

but as the initial shock wore off and the adrenaline began to fade, something completely unexpected took its place. clarity.

for months, you had kept sunghoon on a pedestal in your mind. you had viewed him as this untouchable figure who held all the power, while you were just the needy person at his mercy. but that phone call had completely shattered the illusion, he wasn't untouchable. he was just a bitter man, so desperate for an ego boost that he had resorted to stealing his friend's phone, slurring his words like a child throwing a tantrum because you had finally stopped begging.

for the first time, you saw how he truly saw you: a guaranteed source of validation. the moment you stopped playing the role of the tragic girl waiting on his doorstep, his composure crumbled. ironically, the call you thought would break you ended up being the thing that saved you.

a few days later, your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

Jay :D: hey Jay :D: im having a few people over at my place tonight, nothing crazy Jay :D: just pizza, drinks and some music Jay :D: you should come. i wanna see you

your chest tightened instinctively at the thought of jay's apartment. even though jay was your closest friend, the fear was still so raw. what if sunghoon was there? what if he tried to drop by with her?

you couldn't just text back. your hands were shaking slightly as you tapped jay's name and brought the phone to your ear.

he picked up on the second ring. "hey." jay said, his voice instantly warm and easy. "did you get my message?"

"yeah, i got it." you said softly, leaning your head against the wall. you hesitated, the lingering anxiety making your throat feel tight. "jay... i want to come. but i need to ask you something first."

"anything." he replied softly.

"is sunghoon going to be there?"

there was a pause on the line. "no." jay said softly, his tone reassuring. "i made sure of it, y/n. he and em aren't coming over tonight."

he took a quiet breath before continuing. "i promise you're completely safe here. it's just us, some good food and people who genuinely want to hang out with you."

a deep exhale left your chest. the fear wasn't going to dictate your answer. "okay." you murmured, a small smile finally touching your lips. "i'll be there."

getting ready wasn't the agonizing chore it used to be. you played music in your bedroom, picking out an oversized sweater that made you feel comfortable and bright. you weren't trying to prove your worth to a man who didn't care. you were just getting dressed up for yourself and for the simple joy of going out and having fun.

when you stepped out of the uber in front of jay's apartment building, the cool night air felt refreshing. you practically bounced up the stairs to the third floor, a brown paper bag with two bottles of wine tucked safely under your arm.

you reached apartment 302 and knocked on the door with a playful tempo. you could hear music playing inside and the lively chatter of people already there. but when the lock clicked, the door opened only a few inches.

jay was standing in the narrow opening, and the warm smile you were expecting was nowhere on his face. he looked completely pale, his eyes wide with frantic panic. a faint sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and his hand was gripping the edge of the door.

"y/n." jay breathed out, his voice unnaturally tight.

"hey!" you said, your grin genuine, completely oblivious to his posture. you held up the paper bag. "i brought the wine! am i late, or-"

"listen, y/n." jay interrupted, stepping forward just enough to block the crack with his shoulders, his voice strained beneath the ambient music coming from inside. "don't come in yet. actually... let's just go."

you blinked, an amused laugh escaping your lips. "go where? jay, the hangout is literally happening right behind you."

"it's way too crowded in here." jay said quickly, his words tumbling over each other as he glanced nervously over his shoulder toward the living room. "the vibe is terrible. let's just leave. i'll take you to that late night diner down the street, okay? my treat. let me just grab my coat and we can go right now." he reached out, gently putting a hand on your arm, trying to nudge you back toward the stairs.

you laughed, assuming he was just being dramatic and stressing over host duties. "jay, stop being absurd. since when do you care about a crowd? i'm starving and i promised i would come hang out."

"no, y/n, seriously. just wait a second-"

"move, you weirdo." you teased, stepping forward and lightly bumping your shoulder against his to push past. "i'm coming in."

"y/n, wait-" jay reached for your wrist, his voice cracking with sudden edge, but it was too late. you had already pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold into his warm living room.

the playful words died in your throat. the music from the speakers suddenly sounded like it was playing underwater.

standing near the kitchen counter, holding a drink and looking toward the doorway, was sunghoon. and right beside him, was her.

every drop of excitement, every ounce of warmth and every single mile of progress you had built over the past weeks seem to instantly evaporate. you went horrifyingly still. your sight narrowed down to sunghoon’s face — the slight freeze in his posture, the way his fingers tightened around his drink, the brief flash of something unreadable crossing his features before he masked it.

the shock in your chest instantly twisted into a sharp sting of betrayal. you whirled around on your heel, stepping right back toward the hallway and pulling jay with you by the arm.

"you promised me." you whispered, your voice cracking, thick with a mix of fury and heartbreak. you looked up at jay, your hands trembling as you gestured toward the living room. "you literally promised me he wouldn't be here. you swore they weren’t coming!"

"y/n, i swear to god i didn't invite them." jay pleaded, completely sick with guilt. he grabbed both of your hands, his fingers shaking. "they showed up unannounced literally four minutes ago. i was about to tell him to leave when your knock came on the door. i didn't even have thirty seconds to text you."

jay looked back toward his own living room, then straight into your eyes. "we're leaving." jay said without hesitation. "fuck the party, fuck my apartment. we're going somewhere else right now. we can go to that diner, or a quiet bar downtown, or we can just grab takeout and go sit in your living room. anywhere you want. i don't care that it's my place. i am not letting you sit through this."

he reached for his coat hanging on the wall rack, ready to walk out his own front door. you stared at him, your breath coming in shallow hitches. every instinct in your body screamed at you to take the exit. but as you stood there, watching jay panic for your sake, something else sparked beneath the fear.

a burning anger. if you turned around and left, what would that prove? it would prove that sunghoon still owned every room you walked into. it would prove that he could still chase you out of your safe spaces without even opening his mouth.

you thought about his slurred voice on the phone. you thought about him stealing jay's phone, begging for a reaction, throwing a drunken tantrum because you had stopped giving him power over you.

he wasn't a god, he was just a man. and you were done letting him run your life.

"no." you said softly.

jay stopped, his hand pausing on his coat zipper. "what?"

"i'm not leaving." you said, your voice growing firmer, grounding itself as the panic slowly drained out of your veins. "you threw this party for your friends. i bought wine, i dressed up, and i came here to have fun with you."

"y/n, you don't have to force yourself to be brave-"

"i'm not forcing anything." you interrupted, offering him a reassuring nudge with your shoulder. "he doesn't get to drive me out of your apartment, jay. he doesn't get to dictate whether i get to have a good night or not."

jay looked at you for a long moment, searching your face to see if you were lying. when he saw the steady resolve settling into your eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally eased just a fraction. "are you sure?" he asked softly. "if it gets too much, even for a second, you tell me and we kick them out or leave. deal?"

"deal." you murmured.

you handed him the paper bag with the bottles of wine and turned back toward the living room. sunghoon’s eyes followed you as you walked straight past him to the kitchen counter, but you forced your gaze forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a second look.

you poured yourself a glass of wine, turned around, and threw yourself into a group of jay's friends sitting near the living room rug. you forced yourself to talk, to listen, to pour another drink. and slowly, beneath the initial spike of anxiety, you actually started having fun.

but you were still human. every now and then, despite your best efforts, your eyes would involuntarily drift across the room. they were standing by jay’s bookshelf, talking softly. she was leaning into his side, holding a cup, looking up at him with effortless ease. and sunghoon... sunghoon looked happy. he was looking down at her with attentive warmth — a soft expression you had spent months destroying yourself trying to earn. he spoke to her like she was precious, like she was something to be protected.

it felt like a physical knife turning in your chest. the familiar insecurities instantly rushed back to flood your brain, whispering everything you hated about yourself: look at her. she is worthy, you are not.

your chest ached so deeply you thought you might choke on your next breath. but this time, you didn't run to the bathroom to cry. you didn't get blind drunk to numb the sting. you just squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second, took a grounding breath, and let the pain sit there.

it hurt terribly, but acknowledging the hurt was different than letting it ruin you. you were changing, you were learning how to hold your own hand through the heartbreak instead of begging him to hold it.

around midnight, the music and the crowded room began to feel a bit too much, too loud and warm. needing a moment to breathe, you slipped away from the group and pushed open the front door.

the cold night air hit your face like a splash of ice water. you pulled a cigarette from your pocket, flicked your lighter, and took a long drag. leaning your elbows against the metal railing, you looked out over the quiet street below, watching the trail of grey smoke curl up into the night.

you thought about everything that had happened — the night at his apartment, the agonizing weeks in the dark, his voice on jay's phone, and now tonight. you were still so insecure, still so deeply bruised by him. but standing out there under the stars, you realized you hadn't collapsed. you were still standing.

a fragile sense of pride flickered in your chest. and then, the door behind you suddenly squeaked on its tracks.

a slightly unsteady step hit the concrete floor, accompanied by the sharp smell of hard liquor. you took another slow drag of your cigarette before you saw a heavily intoxicated sunghoon stepping out and letting the door slide shut behind him.

for a long moment, neither of you said a word. the only sound was the muffled bass of the music coming from inside jay's apartment and the uneven rhythm of sunghoon’s breathing beside you.

"didn't know you smoked." he said, his voice thick with alcohol. it was meant to sound casual, maybe a little condescending, but the slight slurring of his words stripped it of any real authority.

you took another slow drag, letting the silence stretch out. "you didn't know a lot of things about me, sunghoon." you said quietly. "mostly because you never bothered to ask."

a bitter scoff escaped his lips. he leaned his elbows against the railing, stepping just a little too close.

"you’ve changed so much, right?" he muttered, turning his head to glare at you sideways. his eyes were bloodshot and heavy with defensive edge. "you are now playing the composed survivor. like you didn't spend months practically dying on my arms."

it was meant to draw blood. it was meant to drag you back down to the floor, to make you cry, to make you defend yourself like you always used to. months ago, it would have worked. but tonight, you just turned your head and looked at him.

up close, without the loving filter you used to view him through, he didn't look so superior. he looked messy. his hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw was tense, and beneath the mean tilt of his chin, there was a frantic restlessness in his eyes.

"is that why you came out here?" you asked softly, your tone almost conversational. "to check if i was still ruined? to see if you still owned me?"

sunghoon’s knuckles turned white against the metal railing. "don't flatter yourself." he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "you’re the one who blocked my number. you made everything into a fucking tragedy, y/n. i never promised you anything."

"i know." you said. the simplicity of your answer caught him off guard. his mouth opened slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before he caught himself and scowled. "i know you didn't." you continued, looking back out at the dark street. "i made up the story. i stayed because i was terrified of being alone, and because i genuinely believed that if i endured enough of your cruelty, you would eventually stay."

you took a shaky breath, letting the hurt show in your eyes without letting it break your posture. "and the worst part was thinking you were just incapable of loving anyone. i convinced myself you were just broken and distant." you gestured vaguely toward the door behind you, where she was still inside. "but you're not cold, are you? you're soft with her. you smile at her."

sunghoon’s breath hitched. "she doesn't suffocate me." he spat. "she doesn't sit on the couch crying, demanding things i can't give. she doesn't make everything exhausting."

it was the meanest thing he had ever said to you. it was a direct hit straight to the core of your deepest insecurities. a single tear finally escaped your eye, tracking down your cheek. but you didn't hide it, you didn't bow your head.

"you're right." you murmured, wiping the tear away with the back of your hand. "she doesn't. because you treat her like a human being. you gave her a reason to be soft, sunghoon. for me, you only ever gave me closed doors and silence."

sunghoon stared at you, his chest heaving. he opened his mouth to hurl another insult, to twist the knife again, but as he looked at your sorrowful face, the liquor in his system couldn't mask the ugly truth hanging between you.

he had gotten everything he claimed he wanted. he had his peace. so why was he standing out in the freezing cold, drunk off his mind, chasing you down?

"if i was so exhausting… then why did you steal jay's phone, sunghoon? why did you call me at midnight? why did you follow me out here tonight?"

sunghoon flinched as if you had slapped him. the mean mask he had worn all night finally fractured right down the middle. for a split second, the cruelty vanished, replaced by a raw look in his eyes.

"you were supposed to keep waiting." he rasped out, the truth slipping out past his pride in a whisper before he could stop it. "you weren't supposed to just... erase me."

there it was, the ugly heart of it all. he didn't love you, but he loved the way you loved him. he loved knowing that somewhere in the city, a girl was weeping over his memory, keeping him on a pedestal, waiting. and your silence, your recovery, had starved him of the only power he had over you.

a profound sadness settled over your chest, but beneath it, the last lingering embers of your devotion finally died out. "well, i'm not waiting anymore." you said softly.

sunghoon swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried desperately to pull his mask back over his face. the booze in his system made his composure sloppy, but his pride refused to let him fall apart completely in front of you.

he looked away toward the dark street before glaring back at you. "you think you're over it?" he muttered, his voice tight, trying to regain his footing. "you think walking back through that door means you get to pretend none of it happened?"

"it happened." you murmured, watching the way he gripped the metal railing just to stay upright. "i'm not pretending it didn't. i'm just not letting you use it to keep me small anymore."

you dropped the rest of your cigarette onto the concrete floor and stepped on it with the heel of your boot. sunghoon watched the motion. as you turned to leave, his hand moved on instinct, his fingers reaching out and catching the edge of your coat sleeve.

"y/n." he said, his voice dropping into a strained tone. it wasn't a grand, cinematic plea. it was just a quiet command from a man who couldn't stomach the thought of you walking away first.

you stopped and looked down at where his hand held your fabric. you didn't yank away or raise your voice. you just looked up at his face and spoke. "let go, sunghoon." you said gently.

he held on for one more second, his pride warring violently with the sudden realization that he was losing the last thread. then, his fingers slowly loosened, slipping off your sleeve.

he didn't beg, he didn't run after you. he just stood there, leaning back against the railing, turning his head away to stare out at the night air as if he couldn't bear to watch you walk through the doorway.

"go back inside." you whispered softly. "she's waiting for you."

you slid the door open, the sound of music and laughter instantly spilling out to wrap around you. you stepped over the threshold and pulled the door closed behind you, shutting out the freezing wind and the ghost of the man who had kept you in the dark for so long.

jay met you near the edge of the kitchen, his eyes immediately searching your face with quiet concern. "you okay?" he asked softly, offering you a fresh drink.

you looked at jay, then took a slow breath. your chest still ached — and it would probably ache for a while — but the air finally reached your lungs.

"yeah." you said, a small and entirely genuine smile on your lips. "i'm actually okay."

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, You were right about one thing: I will never erase what happened. But I don't have any long paragraphs left for you, and I don't need you to give me permission to move on anymore. Thank you for taking Jay's phone. Thank you for following me out there. You finally gave me the one thing I couldn't give myself: the truth. I am letting you go now, for real this time. This is the last time your name will ever appear in my handwriting. Goodbye, Sunghoon.

it was supposed to be a normal movie night right? just you and jake, tangled up in a mess of blankets on your couch, a half empty bowl of popcorn sitting between you. but the air in the room felt heavy, thick with a tension that had been building for months. jake wasn't watching the screen. he was watching you, his dark eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, the way your oversized shirt slipped off your shoulder.

you knew jake was a bit of a deviant. he didn't exactly hide it from you, his best friend. he’d make offhand, shameless comments about things that should have made you blush, but you’d always laughed them off as jake just being jake. what you didn't know, what you only recently started to piece together, was how deep that fixation went when it came to you.

it started with small things. a look that lingered too long. the way he’d volunteered to do your laundry when you were sick, only for you to notice later that a pair of your lace underwear had mysteriously vanished, never to be found. you’d caught him once, standing in your bedroom when he thought you were in the kitchen, holding a sweater you’d worn the day before, his face buried deep in the fabric, inhaling your scent with a desperate, shaky breath. you hadn't said anything then, too shocked and, if you were being completely honest with yourself, too thrilled by the raw hunger in his eyes to confront him. but tonight, the boundaries were melting away.

jake shifted, shifting closer until his thigh was pressed hard against yours. you could feel the heat radiating off him. when you turned your head to look at him, you found him already staring, his gaze intense, almost agonizingly focused on your mouth.

"you're not even watching," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of his stare.

"can't," jake muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "there's something much better to look at right here."

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. "jake, don't do this. we talked about this. we're friends."

"i know," he said, and the sheer desperation in his voice made your stomach flip. he reached out, his long fingers trembling just a little as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his skin scorching hot. "i know we're friends, y/n. i swear i try to remember that. but it's driving me fucking insane."

"what is?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

jake let out a breathless laugh, dropping his hand to rest on the cushion right next to your thigh. "you. everything about you. i spend every single day thinking about you. do you have any idea what i do when i'm alone in my apartment? do you know what i think about?"

you stayed quiet, your breath hitching.

"i think about you," jake confessed, leaning in closer, his scent of cedar and pure warmth overwhelming your senses. "i take your clothes, y/n. that sweater you lost last month? i have it. it's under my pillow. i jerk off into it because it smells like you. i sit on my bed, closing my eyes, imagining it's your hands on me instead of my own. i'm a sick fuck, i know it. i'm a pervert. but i need you so bad it hurts."

the honesty of it, the absolute lack of shame mixed with such raw vulnerability, sent a shivering wave of heat straight to your core. you should have been offended. you should have kicked him out. instead, your thighs rubbed together beneath the blanket, already slick.

"jake," you breathed out, your hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of his heart. "we can't. if we do this, if we cross this line, there is no going back. i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend."

"i don't want to lose you either," jake said, his forehead coming to rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "fucking hell, y/n, you're the best thing in my life. but i'm dying here. just looking at you, touching you like this, it's not enough anymore. i need to feel you. please. just let me have this. let us have this."

"and what happens tomorrow?" you asked, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him just a fraction of an inch closer.

"we'll figure it out tomorrow," jake promised, his voice dropping to a needy, pathetic whimper. "just please, y/n. let me." you didn't answer with words. instead, you tilted your head up and closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

jake let out a choked sound, between a groan and a sob, and instantly took over the kiss. it wasn't a gentle, sweet first kiss. it was a collision. his mouth opened over yours, his tongue sweeping in with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you completely breathless. he gripped your waist with bruising force, pulling you flush against his chest as if he wanted to meld your bodies together.

the popcorn bowl fell to the floor, forgotten, as jake shifted his weight, climbing over you and pinning you to the couch. he broke the kiss for a split second to tear his shirt off, tossing it blindly into the room, before diving right back down to feast on your lips. his skin was burning, slick with a light sweat of pure anticipation.

"y/n, oh god, y/n," jake chanted against your mouth, his hands wandering frantically over your body, bunching up your shirt, his palms rough against your bare skin.

he didn't even wait to take your shorts off. the need in him was too feral, too far gone. he settled himself directly between your thighs, the heavy, rigid length of his erection pressing hard against your center through both layers of your clothes. then, he began to grind.

it was a slow, heavy roll of his hips at first, finding the perfect angle. you let out a loud moan right into his mouth, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to lock him close. that sound seemed to snap something inside him. the pace turned frantic, desperate, and completely unchecked.

jake dry humped you with a wild, rhythmic urgency that made the entire couch creak beneath you. every downstroke of his hips pressed his hardness perfectly against your aching core, creating a friction so intense you could feel the heat blooming inside you like wildfire. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving dark marks that you knew would stay for days.

"you feel so good," jake gasped out, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding back. "even through your clothes, you're so warm. y/n, please. look at me."

you forced your heavy eyelids open, staring up into his face. jake looked completely wrecked. his hair was a messy nest, his cheeks were flushed dark red, and his eyes were wide, blown out, and filled with a devotion that made your heart ache just as much as your core.

"i've wanted this for years," jake whispered, his hips continuing their relentless, desperate friction against yours. his movements were getting faster, shorter, his breath hitching as he edged closer to the brink just from the sheer feel of you beneath him. "every single time i looked at you. every time you smiled at me. i'm so sorry i'm like this, y/n. i'm so sorry i'm so dirty for you."

"don't apologize," you whined, arching your back, throwing your head back against the armrest as another heavy roll of his pelvis hit you perfectly. "jake, don't stop. please."

"never," he groaned, his hands moving down to grip your thighs, keeping you pinned, keeping you open for him as he rode your thigh with a pathetic, whimpering sort of desperation. "i'm going to ruin myself for you. i already have."

the sheer friction of his jeans against your thin shorts was driving you insane. you could feel the dampness of your own arousal soaking through the fabric, making the contact even more intense, more electric. jake felt it too. he let out a loud, broken whimper, his hips slamming into yours over and over in a quick, merciless rhythm that had you gripping his bare shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into his skin.

"jake, i'm close, i'm going to," you cried out, your vision blurring as the coil of pleasure tightened to an unbearable point.

"cum for me, y/n. let me feel it," jake begged, his voice cracking. he gave one last, deep, heavy grind, his whole body stiffening as he buried his face in your hair.

the orgasm crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves, making your thighs quiver around his waist. right at that exact moment, with your body squeezing around him through the fabric, jake lost his grip completely. he let out a loud, guttural cry, his hips stuttering into you one, two, three more times before he completely froze, his muscles locking tight as he came hard into his own underwear, the heat of it transferring right through to your skin.

the room fell silent, save for the sound of your loud, synchronized, ragged breathing.

jake collapsed fully against you, his heavy chest rising and falling against yours, his face still hidden in your neck. he didn't move for a long time, just holding you as if you would disappear if he let go. his hands, still resting on your hips, were twitching slightly.

after a few minutes, he slowly lifted his head. the feral, perverted hunger from before was replaced by something incredibly soft, almost anxious. he looked down at you, searching your face, a sudden wave of panic in his eyes.

"did i ruin it?" he whispered, his voice incredibly small. "y/n, please tell me i didn't just ruin everything."

you looked at him, taking in his messy hair, his flushed face, and the absolute devotion shining in his eyes. a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

"you didn't ruin anything, you idiot," you giggled softly.

jake let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned heavily into your touch, closing his eyes. "i love you so much. you have no idea. i'm still a creep, though. i'm still keeping that sweater."

you laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the quiet room. "i know you are, jake. we'll talk about your theft problems later. but right now? i think you still owe me a proper round without our clothes on."

X

O

You were having a night out with your friend, dressed up, feeling good and tipsy as loud music blared through the club. Amu had been trying to get you out for weeks but with your demanding new job and responsibilities, it just wasn’t possible but eventually she wore you down.

“Cmonnnn! Just for tonight—“, you scoffed.

“Yeah, until you wanna go out again.”

“That’s because you never come! Pleaaase??”

Her puppy eyes in full affect as she points to the dress of hers she bought for you to wear laid out on your bed. A deep sigh leaves your chest and that’s when she knows she won, clapping excitedly while you got ready. You couldn’t even be upset with her because you’re actually having fun, all dolled up and giggly as you dance together.

You feel so light— no assignments, tasks, or looming deadlines hanging over your conscious. It’s freeing. Maybe a night out was just what you needed.

Bending you over, Amu rolls her body into yours as you grind back on her when she suddenly gasps. You don’t get to ask her what when she’s snatching you up, spinning you to face her but keeping you pressed tight against her. Chin hooked over her shoulder, her hands drift down to your ass, rolling your body into hers when she whispers,

“There’s a stupidly hot guy watching us— or actually, he’s watching you.”

Your eyes widen, excitement and nerves swirl around in your stomach and you bite your lip.

That’s why she’s putting on a show? Curiosity makes you restless and you know why Amu has you facing the way she is because you’d have looked immediately even if she told you not to.

“How do you know he’s looking at me?”

She doesn’t answer with words, instead she lifts one of your legs around her waist before her hands grip your hips as she dips you. It happens fast, leaving you breathless at how you’re suddenly upside down and confused as to how this answers your question when your eyes trail up and you see him.

Stupidly hot was an understatement and true to Amu’s word, he was indeed looking at you.

His intense gaze burns into you as you watch him take you in. From your tiny dress that’s riding up thanks to how it’s hooked around Amu’s waist as she rolls her body into yours all the way to your tits that are fighting not to spill out the top of said dress.

His eyes lock with yours when he winks.

It takes you so off guard that when Amu slowly lifts you back up, smoothing her hands up your back as you loop your arms around her neck—you’re still breathless.

“Jesus fuck.”

She grins.

“Told you.”

When you turn again, this time she lets you and your eyes immediately find him.

He’s tall, you notice. Dark hair matching his dark eyes with a playful smirk on his plump lips. His jewelry glints in the dim light as he shifts, making your pounding heart drop as he leaves the bar, striding towards you.

“Oh my god!” You whisper shout, torn between making a run for it because attractive people make you nervous and it’s been a while or acting like the slut you want him to turn you into. Amu makes the decision for you, tightening her hands around your waist as he gets closer, whispering in your ear.

“Stop. Go for it— you look so hot I’d fuck you and you smell fantastic. Don’t overthink baby, you’ve got this.”

You listen, taking deep breaths as she adds,

“And fix your face, you look scared.”

Well damn. One deep inhale and light smile on your glossed lips as she reassures you and the next time you turn back around he’s there.

A giddy smile breaks across your face before you can stop it because he’s so much more gorgeous up close. High cheekbones compliment the strong lines of his jaw and long lashes. He smelled so good too— your thighs subconsciously clenching together.

Amu doesn’t leave immediately, staying for introductions at least, grinning with a cheeky wave.

“Hi.”

He smiles back, perfect teeth on display as he nods once at her.

“Hi yourself.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline when you hear how deep his voice is. If you didn’t need that before you would die if you didn’t get it now. He extends a large hand out for you to take, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he raises it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“My name’s Riki. Or Ni-Ki works too.”

“Where does the ‘NI” come from?” You hear Amu ask.

“It’s the first two letters of my last name, Nishimura. So that with the two last letters of my first name…”. God, that’s hot.

When you don’t speak, just staring back dazed, that’s when Amu decides to take her leave. Kissing the side of your neck, she announces that she’s going to get you more drinks but you know she’s giving you space to hook you up.

Your eyes don’t catch the way his narrow when she kisses you.

You’re nervous, Riki’s attention is intense even when you know he’s interested. He hasn’t let go of your hand either, instead he holds his free hand out for your other one. When you take it, he smoothly pulls you in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you simultaneously move together.

He’s firm, like he works out and it has you groaning inwardly. Your pulse is thrumming— making you hyper aware of everything. At the same time, you feel good.

Shivers scatter down your spine when you feel his hands smooth slowly down your back, stopping at the top of your ass before gliding back up. You sigh breathily at the feeling as he holds you tighter to the hard planes of his body, murmuring lowly in your ear,

“Gonna tell me your name, pretty girl?”

A flash of arousal shoots through you at the petname and you breathlessly give him your name. He rests his forehead on yours, repeating it back to you while his hands run back down, saying your name when he asks,

“Is this okay?”

Biting your lip, you nod and immediately after he’s gripping your ass, pressing you flush against him as you grind together. You wouldn’t ordinarily be this bold but you’re buzzed and Riki was so attractive— it wouldn’t kill anyone if you were a little irresponsible.

His hard length grinds against you and you nearly choke when you feel how big it is. When he does it again, your head tips back as you moan and it’s like something snaps. Plump lips meet your neck with open mouthed kisses, groaning drunkenly as he inhales.

“Fuck…you’re so sexy, baby—“, he rasps.

“Had me hard the whole time watching you…”

Whining, you feel your wetness soak through your panties when he laps up the column of your throat to slot over your mouth in a dizzying kiss.

It’s consuming off the bat, Riki’s broad tongue greedy and wet as he fills your mouth with it until you’re holding onto the back of his neck for stability. The sound the kiss makes when your tongues meet has his blood running hot, smacking his lips harder against yours as he palms the fat of your ass.

You moan into his mouth and he forces himself off your lips before he makes a scene out of you in the middle of the club.

“Come home with me”, he asks through heavy breaths. “I want you so bad…”

He’s kissing every inch of skin he can reach as he waits for your answer. You want to go but you don’t just want to leave Amu and make her worry. Looking around the room for that familiar pink pixie cut, you spot her at the bar sitting on the lap of a cat eyed boy with dimples as he orders her another drink.

Waving your hand at her from behind Riki’s head, she looks over quickly when you point down at the man licking between your cleavage and the door. She understands immediately, nodding aggressively and shooing you so hard she almost creates a breeze before holding up her phone.

Call me if you need me.

You give a thumbs up when you feel Riki’s mouth close around the side of your throat, audibly wet kisses before lapping up to kiss the underside of your ear. Clit throbbing, you reach up to pull his hair, forcing him to let go when you finally give him permission.

“Take me home?”

X

O

X

If Riki had a nice place you wouldn’t know because as soon as he gets you through the door he’s on you.

Lips, hands, teeth, tongue— all over you. Your body feels like one big nerve as he takes his time licking into your mouth, kissing you sloppy and drenched before marking you up. Sharp teeth border on painful when he buries his face in your neck to bite, soothing the burn with a hot lap over the indent.

“Mmm, I’m gonna fuck you so good…”,

A needy moan falls from your kiss swollen lips when he picks you up, carrying you to his room. You don’t know how it happens but by the time you hit the bed, you’re naked— left only in your drenched panties.

“Spread your legs f’me…”

Your body obeys as if on autopilot, letting Riki see the way the wet fabric hugs your pussylips.

“And so wet too… good girl.”

The praise lights you up, oozing pussy clenching around nothing while you watch him strip until he’s naked. Reaching towards him, he follows when you pull him into a slow, filthy kiss. Tilting your head to kiss him deeper as he slides his tongue in your mouth for you to suck, his hand coming up to curl around your throat when he pulls away with a wet slop.

“Open.” He purrs, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

You obey again, letting his thumb pet your tongue before he grips your cheeks, leaning down and spits.

A fresh coat of slick gushes out from your pussy. It should feel disgusting, you’re not usually like this…so why do you swallow it? Moaning for more as you look up into his dark eyes. His cock is dripping precum when he does it again, licking your mouth out only to spit back down your throat and kissing you as a reward when you swallow without him telling you to.

Eventually, your movements turn restless as your pussy throbs.

“Sorry…”, you apologize, like your jitters are an inconvenience and they’re anything but. On the contrary, Riki is loving how sensitive you are— soaking through your cute panties off a little bit of kissing.

“You’re okay, baby. I don’t mind.”

The low timbre of his voice is hypnotic as he suckles hungry kisses down your body, reveling the way your skin jumps beneath his lips when he gets to your cunt. Heat floods your face when you feel his warm breath cool against your skin from how wet you are, both embarrassed and aroused as he coos.

“Fuck, look at her…”, he leans closer, slipping them down off you so he can see her drip for him.

“Pretty, sloppy hole cryin’ for attention, hmm?”

Your mouth drops in a sharp gasp when Riki presses his nose to your cunt, inhaling deep until his eyes roll back, groaning deep in his chest.

“You smell delicious, pretty thing..”

Blood rushes through your ears as your heart pounds at the act. It’s almost too intimate for a one night stand but you like it too much to care. Arousal so thick it weighs you down like a blanket, pliant and warm when he spreads your pussylips to lick a hard stripe up your slit.

A broken moan shoots from your throat when he does it again— sloppily lapping from your hole to your clit, fluttering his tongue against the underside of the twitching nub before closing his mouth around it to suck. Your trembling hand flies to his hair as pleasure ricochets through your body.

Riki hums as your taste blossoms all over his tongue. He had a feeling before when he was watching you earlier with your friend but he’s positive now.

You’re perfect for him.

So sweet and good for him— he’s overwhelming you now but you’ll learn to crave it.

Another piercing cry bursts from you when he curls his tongue, grazing and flicking that hot pulsing spot nestled against your walls as you shake. Tears bud in your eyes from how good you feel, bliss shredding your nerves apart while he kisses your drooling hole— wearing your arousal like gloss before licking you off his lips.

Alternating between heavy laps and mean sucks, you feel your impending orgasm coming on so strongly it makes you sweat; crying out his name like it’s the only prayer you’ve ever bothered to learn. Popping off your swollen clit, Riki watches your face as he lets his tongue hang, teasing it up the length of your pussy when he asks,

“Cumming for me, gorgeous? Gonna make a mess?”

You are— it’s too good and you’re not strong enough to fight it. Even looking at his pretty face doing such an erotic thing brings you that much closer.

Tears fall freely now and in your haze, the hand not in his hair reaches for his hand and when he intertwines them with his, fucking your hole with his tongue as he swirls your clit in firm circles with his thumb, your chest burns as it caves from the force of your sobs— cumming so violently all your other senses check out and the only thing that reminds is Riki.

“Mmhmm”, he takes your cunt out of his mouth to praise you,

“Like that, baby”, another fat lick, “Want her to squirt in my mouth..” and he doesn’t let up until you do.

Treating your poor clit like a pacifier as you scream and cry until your makeup is ruined and your voice goes hoarse but he gets what he wants by your third orgasm. Closing his jaw with your clit between his teeth as he bites down, releasing to suck before the pain becomes too much and that’s what does it. Your entire body convulsing with incoherent warbled moans, pussy tightening like a vice as the building pressure pushes low in your abdomen and you gush— broken and delirious right into his greedy mouth.

The pleasure is brutal, leaving you raw and empty in its wake. You squeeze his hand as you try to brace through it but it’s no use, you’re falling apart too fast to catch even a piece of yourself.

Goosebumps break over Riki at how visceral you sound, completely gone as you go boneless, on the verge of passing out as he licks you clean, coming at the taste of you for the second time while he strokes his cock.

You don’t notice, but you didn’t notice he never let go of your hand either.

Poor thing, he thinks when he gets up to lean over top of you.

Your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, hazy eyes stare unseeingly into his face as he grips your thighs, folding them to your chest. Riki taps your puffy clit with the fat head of his dick, watching your face as he switches; sliding it between your cum slick lips instead.

Reality returns to you in floaty lights above the head of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, exhausted as he peppers kisses all over your face, rolling his length between your lips, grazing your clit with every thrust. A shuddering moan has him biting his lip, leaning down to give you a kiss that’s less technique and more him licking your tongue.

Pulling away with a wet hiss, he opens his mouth and it’s your turn to spit and his cock jerks when it hits his pallet.He adjusts you one more time, knees almost to your ears when he brings his cock to your entrance and distantly you recall his size.

“You’re not gonna stretch me out first?”

Your voice is soft— slurred. Like your ears are still logged from the blood rushing through them when you came for him.

It’s cute.

Smiling adoringly down at you, Riki brushes your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“No, baby.”

“But won’t it hurt? You’re big, Ki…”

Closing his eyes, Riki has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check before opening them again.

“Mhmm…but you’ll like it.”

He remembers how you reacted to him biting your clit and knows you can take it. Pushing against your hole, you whine, nodding along with him.

“O-okay”, and he’s about to push in when you remember—

“Condom?”

Riki sighs, nuzzling into you neck as he kisses up to your ear.

“Don’t need it, I’m clean.” That’s not the entire point and he knows it, licking hotly into your ear like he already has what he wants.

“Me too but—“,

Riki pulls away to kiss you deeply, cutting you off as he rocks forward, sliding into your pussy while swallowing your moans from the stretch. He pulls away to watch your face melt in agonized bliss as he pushes in, inch by inch. The thoughts visibly leave you. He’s so big you struggle to accommodate him but you love it, already shaking when he grinds his pelvis against your clit, humming.

“What? Worried I’ll get you pregnant, baby?”

His taunt doesn’t even register, much less the words.

“O-ooh—“, you’re too busy going crazy.

The weight of him has your mouth watering, glossy eyes rolling back when he pulls out to slam back in, moaning with you.

“Fuck, she’s tight—!”

Folding you as deep as he can, Riki slams into you harder, fucking you into the mattress right off the bat. You take it but barely, crying again when he shifts, bullying your sweet spot until your brain drips out your ears. It’s one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen— your beautiful face drunk on his cock while he fucks you dumb.

“So hot, dripping around me…”

Wet to the point where it’s audible, debauched squelches ring in harmony with your moans every time he sinks in. You pray he doesn’t have neighbors because you’re loud— practically shrieking when he reaches down to spank your clit. Your body jolts and Riki watches more of your slick bubble around his cock— oh you liked that. A sick satisfaction washes over him.

“Little pain slut, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer when he strikes the pulsating nub again, harder. White-hot pleasure blinds you, turns you inside out when you sob, wailing his name. There’s no denying it, not when you’re cumming so hard you’re shaking. Eyes rolling back, Riki stuffs himself inside you to the hilt, letting your pretty pussy milk him.

“Fuck, yesss—“, he hisses through gritted teeth. Dropping his weight on you, he rides out your orgasms with another deep kiss, tongue practically down your throat as you gush brainlessly on him.

It’s heaven, you make him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s dangerous but you don’t have a clue, letting him flip you on your tummy and raise your hips as he starts again.

You’re so helpless like this— fucked out of your mind, no choice but to let him take you. It makes his teeth ache and he gives into the urge, burying his face in your throat to bite. Riki bites until you’re writhing, begging so sweetly that it hurts even as your creamy pussy drips down his balls anyway.

Almost in a trance, he bites you everywhere. Neck, shoulders, jaw, even your cheek. The pain paired with how overstimulated you were, you felt like you couldn’t so much as breathe without him as he marks you up.

It’s not long before you’re screaming that you can’t take it. It’s a lie; Riki knows you can because—

“You’re mine, baby. Your pussy was made for me.”

Red lights with the letters S T O P should’ve been flashing but when long fingers wind in your hair, pulling your head back enough so he can fit his arm around your throat, you crumble apart. The lack of oxygen and delicious thrusts have hearts swirling in your eyes, nothing but Riki on the brain and it’s perfect— you’re perfect. He doesn’t need you to think, just needs you.

“Tell me you’re mine, sweetheart. C’mon”, your walls spasm as he goes even harder on you, cologne mixing with the scent of sex.

“Tell me who you belong to— be my good girl, baby.”

He bites you again to hasten your answer, forcing his fat cock in you with devastating accuracy to your g spot. It hurts; aches in a way that makes your voice crack through your sobs when you moan out his name.

“Y- you”, Riki’s broad tongue laps behind your ear, a satisfied purr shakes his chest at your submission.

“M’ yours…Niki—“, he groans, releasing you in favor of shoving your face into the pillows, railing you now. You’re his, only for him, you said it.

His strokes are painfully good, rocking your body with the force, moaning deep when you start to squirt around him. Liquid pushes out of you with startling force, walls twitching and throbbing around him as his pace grows erratic.

“Yeah pretty, you’re mine— no one else is can have you”, Red flags don’t matter if you’re colorblind when tipsy.

You’re shaking but he doesn’t stop, using you like a ragdoll, even as the prolonged stimulation has you climaxing again, gripping the sheets as you’re tortured with orgasm after orgasm. Everything’s buzzing, it’s hot, you’re gonna pass out but he doesn’t mind so long as he’s the first thing you see when you wake up.

“Ah! Fuck—“, his hips slap flush to your ass one more time, seating his cock in your guts when he cums, warming you from the inside out from how much he shoots and you reach your limit, falling into unconsciousness as exhaustion claims you.

Nuzzling against your hot cheek, Riki notices the uneven flow of your breathing, pretty eyes that stay closed even when he calls your name.

He doesn’t panic, he knows he was hard on you for your first time together. Post orgasm bliss and affection swell in his chest as he carefully slides out of you. His cum immediately seeps out of your gaping hole and he holds back on licking you clean.

“Later…”

Riki is soft as he gets a warm, wet cloth to clean you with, carefully not to press too hard on sensitive areas before cleaning himself off too. Scooping you up again, your sleepy whine has him pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he grabs your dress off the floor, carrying you to sleep with him in the guest room.

Lying you down, he pulls the comforter down so he can tuck you underneath it, sliding in after you. His lips are gentle on your forehead as he kisses it, eyelids heavy.

“Mine— just for me. I’ll kill whoever before I let them have you.”

O

O

—

You wake up on top of a warm surface.

Blinking in confusion, you groan softly when you shift just the slightest, body sore.

Looking down, you notice you’re completely naked and so is Riki. Your eyes flit up to his face to find him sleeping peacefully. Heat pools up your chest when the events of last night flash through your mind. The biting, the stretch, the way he spoke to you— handled you.

A flustered smile appears on your lips as you silently lean up, brushing his hair off his forehead as you kiss it. Slowly, you stand on shaky legs, looking around the room for your things. You’re careful not to wake him as you slide your dress on, grabbing your phone next to his.

You’d stay but the one time you did only for the guy to less than subtly hint that you’d overstayed your welcome.

“So, you need an Uber or…?”

It was so embarrassing, the cold humiliation like he hadn’t seen you naked merely hours before and you saw him the same. Riki was sweet but you couldn’t say you necessarily trusted him— you only met last night. So, looking back at his handsome sleeping one last time, you go press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering.

“Goodbye, Riki”.

Then you slip on your heels and slip out the door.

X

O

When you got home, Amu couldn’t believe her eyes. Gasping as she took in your wrecked appearance with a delighted squeal.

“Ooh— I knew he fucked!”

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to hide the beaming smile as you headed towards the bathroom, the pink haired girl hot on your heels. In the bathroom, you try to close the door on her but she pushes her way inside, watching with shining eyes as you pee.

“What? I’ve seen it all already”, she sighs dreamily. “I remember your last birthday gift to me oh so fondly…”

Heat blooms in your chest, shooting her a weak glare through wide eyes as you hiss her name. She ignores the warning, smiling prettily as you wipe and close the lid before you flush.

“Damn, is he a vampire?” She pokes your neck until you flinch away. “Look at all those bites—“

You can’t avoid her forever though because she doesn’t move off the sink when you go to wash your hands, forcing your arms around her to operate the sink.

“Come on… tell me yours and I’ll tell you mines”.

Oh yeah— you briefly remember she was with a hot guy herself before you left. You caught a glimpse of dimples and cat like eyes before Riki was ushering you out the door.

“His name is Jungwon, a friend of your guy, he told me….” That makes you look at her.

Drying your hands for you and following you to your room, Amu gets comfortable on your bed as she pats the empty space next to her, smiling at you when you go with a heavy sigh.

It’s silent for a beat.

Then it’s not.

“…my clit is still sore—“,

Amu screams, hands flying to her mouth as you begin tell her about your night.

“Oh! Insane way to start this off!” Fanning herself, she snaps her fingers at you, yelling excitedly. “Let’s get itttt!”

Sitting criscross, her energy is infectious as you smile back. Taking a deep breath before you continue. Keeping in mind you don’t remember everything he said during since you had been drinking prior but what you do remember has her getting louder after every detail and when you get to his…

She nearly faints.

X

O

X

A little over a week goes by and your life goes on.

Work is still annoying but unfortunately too well paying for you to quit. You haven’t been out for another girls night either, simply too busy and Amu whines wit the same as always.

Once she learned that you snuck out after your fling with Riki, she stopped talking to Jungwon too even after you told her she didn’t have to.

“Nonsense— it’s called solidarity.” She said and that was the end of it.

Things don’t get weird until the start of the third week.

First, it’s in passing; when you next see him. You’re at a popular shopping center, looking for something cute to wear for your office’s upcoming meeting. Usually, you wouldn’t care to put in the effort but the new hire had you singing a different tune.

He was good looking, funny, always brought you different coffees and held doors for you— in short, he was sweet. Not at all shy about his attraction to you.

There’s nothing on the current floor that caught your eye, so letting out a huff, you look up the escalator to the second floor when your eyes pass the people on it when they find a familiar face. But it seems that by the time you see him, he’s already looking at you. Dark eyes and plump grinning lips, lifting his hands to wave as if he hadn’t taken you apart and since left you wet every time you woke up.

Dumbstruck, you freeze. Awkwardly waving back as he makes his way over to you. He’s a natural attention grabber, various eyes track his smooth movements. Your nerves are tangible, being put on the spot but he revels in it, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Low voice mumbling,

“I missed you, baby.”

Oh god.

Heat flares through your body, leaving you warm all the way to your toes. You clear your throat, heart pounding in your chest at how familiarly he addresses you. A confused giggle slips from your lips, as you furrow your brows.

“What’s to miss? I was a one night stand.”

Keeping your tone light, you don’t want to hurt his feelings but the truth was that all good things must come to an end. Riki tilts his head, confused while a frown appears on his lips.

“You’re not just some one night stand”,

He sneers the term out like it insults him. It takes you off guard, looking around to make sure you two aren’t making a scene before grabbing his arm to pull him with you. Almost too eagerly, he lets you.

“Riki…”, you trail off, unsure of where to start. The tall man follows you off the escalator onto the second floor, next to you like distance is a cursed notion as you walk into another women’s clothing store—straight to the back to reason with him in privacy.

“You don’t like me—“,

“Yes I do.” He cuts you off, grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it just like he did weeks ago. It has the same effect and you’re not strong enough to pull away because part of you really is attracted to him.

“You don’t know anything about me— you like what we did together, not me as a person.”

Forcing yourself not to flinch away from the hurt look on his face, you stand your ground, reminding yourself that this is necessary. Emotions swirl through you. Guilt, attraction, arousal, need— it’s confusing.

Riki’s silence only puts you further on edge.

Why was he taking this so hard? You two are strangers. And besides, wouldn’t it be hard to have a serious relationship with someone you had sex with within the first hour of meeting them?

“I know I like you.” You groan but he ignores it.

“You think I don’t know anything about you? Try me.”

A huff of disbelief escapes you, thinking he’s bluffing but he remains firm until you ask him something.

“Where do I work?”

Riki doesn’t miss a beat.

“A marketing firm.”

Your eyes widen. There’s no way—

He’s exactly right.

Your world skids to a stop, hearing blood in your ears as your heart plummets cold in your stomach while he grins at you. A lucky guess? No, it’s more than that as he goes on to tell you your favorite food, favorite weather— that you’re not a morning person because you’re more productive at night and even the color your toes are painted right now. But how? You haven’t seen him in weeks. Blinking in confusion as you look at him.

“H-how—?”

“Because I’m exactly right for you.”

His gaze is unwavering, a long finger hooks under your chin so he can look at the face he’s been watching from afar.

“It’s fine if you don’t see it now but soon you will.”

An unsettling shiver runs down your spine. Wide eyes lock on him, fear and something hotter make your stomach turn. You’re both terrified and wanting, scared and intrigued. The pull makes you hesitant, unable to decide on whether he’s a threat or not. Even on the slim chance he isn’t, Riki is still dangerous— you just don’t know how.

Do you want to find out?

Cooing softly, Riki cups your cheek. It’s just as soft as he remembers and you smell just as sweet too. Your heart is in your throat when he leans down, plush lips brushing yours once, twice before pressing them to yours fully. You barely get the chance to kiss him back when he pulls away to whisper against your panting mouth.

“You kissed my forehead and didn’t even stay..”

His words pull a shocked gasp from your lips.

“Y-you were awake?” He shakes him head no, dipping his head to ghost his lips across your mouth.

“But I felt you.”

Then he’s kissing you again— this time like he means it.

You should push him away. There’s too many questions, you two are in public…

Plump lips suck your bottom lip, then your top, warmth flooding your spinning head as you melt, clumsily copying his movements.

Large hands grip your waist, holding you close as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth, a shiver wracking your nerves. Your fingers grip his shirt as he kisses you slow and deep, tongue coaxing against yours before pulling away with a hungry suck. You have to swallow the moan that almost falls out while he buries his face in your neck— gently nipping at your collarbone.

“You’re confused now but you’ll see.” He pulls back to look at you one more time, kissing you softly again.

“Be good for me until then, okay sweets?”

You’re paranoid and aroused watching him go, back down the escalator until he’s out of sight. Letting out a heavy sigh as you remember where you are, you peek out from where you are. Two women with red faces cough in their fists awkwardly before rushing in opposite directions. The third heads to the register, looking awfully busy all of the sudden and you sigh, embarrassment making you bold as you yell out,

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

The girl at the register shares a look with the others.

“Looked the opposite to me…”

“As hot as he is?”

“If I didn’t have a husband, he could be my boyfriend.”

You all look at the older woman who suddenly spoke, 70s with grey hairs and a walker as she laughs jovially.

“What? Tall, good looking men who know what they want are hard to find.”

A startled laugh bubbles from you as you shake your head. The problem wasn’t that Riki knew what he wanted but what he’d be like in order to get it.

In the end, you leave the center with a headache and no dress— unable to shake them image of striking dark eyes following your every move.

X

O

When you tell Amu, she’s uncharacteristically quiet. Listening carefully as you tell her what happened. There’s no jokes, just her watching you pace nervously. Your hands gesturing wildly until she gets up to hold you still. anchoring you before you spiral too bad.

“Hey—breathe, honey.” She guides you closer to her chest so you can copy her steady breathing.

“There we go. Slowly. Need you to calm down for me. I’ve got you.”

Keeping her voice low and soft, Amu talks to you like she would a spooked animal. She reassures you that she didn’t tell Jungwon anything personal about you for him to tell Riki, so there’s no way he’d know all that stuff from earlier off him. That doesn’t help, instead it leaves even more blanks. She doesn’t want to make your anxiety worse so she ends it with a gentle warning.

“Hopefully today was just a coincidence but be careful. I don’t like how he’s so….”,

Clingy? Knowing? Intense? Possessive? Scary?

The silence says all that and more when she pinches her lips in at the tired look you give her.

“Yeah…”

You hope it’s all some really weird fluked coincidence but a nagging feeling creeps in that it’s only the beginning.

Amu takes another deep breath as she holds you, chin resting on the top of your head when she mumbles, “I guess now would be a bad time to tell you Jungwon sent me money and well shot pictures of his dick and new haircut?”

You go silent.

Amu stiffens.

“I’m scared for my life while my best friend—“, she calls your name, letting go so she can back up before you blow as you continue.

“—is being lured over to the dark side by dick and dimples?!”

You’re tired but not enough to keep you from yelling before you chase her, enjoying the normalcy while you can.

X

O

X

It wasn’t the cold terror that got you, it was the paranoia.

You were naturally an overthinker at heart. Running scenarios and possible reactions through your head multiple times was beneficial in that it helped you prepare for the worst. At the same time, it could also be a cage and the stick that slid through the bars to poke you, making sure you stayed on edge.

Which you seemed to be a lot these days.

Jumpy.

Cautious.

Paranoid.

No matter what you did or how you’d try to calm down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. And just when that feeling would built, making you frantically search your surroundings, you’d see him.

Riki.

always staring back at you.

Sometimes he’d come up to you, pet your cheek and tell you he missed you. Like he was more than what he’d been or was supposed to be—a one night stand. Each time, your traitorous heart would flutter looking into his mesmerizing face.

One time, when he approached, you stepped back before he could make any physical contact with you to which he only followed. Standing in between your feet as he stood so close he could feel you breathe, then he held your face, softly asking what was wrong. To outsiders, he looked like a loving boyfriend concerned for his girlfriend but the reality was something much darker.

He was always there. Whether you wanted him or not.

Walking home from work, at the convenience stores, the park, library, on the bus in passing—you saw Riki everywhere. It was driving you crazy. Amu was going through it too, having to change phone numbers because Jungwon wouldn’t stop blowing it up and when she blocked him, he’d just do the same thing from a burner but at least he wasn’t practically living in her shadow.

“Hey”, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder.

Blinking, you look up to see the new hire. Kihyun. Relief washes over you as you smile back at him. His hand is warm and grounding, drifting across your back in soothing motions.

“I’ve been calling you but you were zoned out.” You pause, stiffening before letting out a tired sigh.

“Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping too well…”, and how could you? As soon as you lay down you feel Riki’s hands; hear his voice rasping filthy praise hotly in your ear, see him bite his lip as he tips his head back— sweat beading down the column of his throat before he cums. Even when he’s not there, he haunts you.

Kihyun frowns, looking at you in concern before dropping down next to your desk to offer,

“Wanna talk about it?” You wince.

“Not really.” And Kihyun— sweet, angelic, non-obsessive Kihyun simply nods in understanding. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t ask more questions about it or look at you differently and you’re grateful. His voice is nice as he changes the topic altogether, filling you in on the last office drama and for a second everything is okay.

You sit and gossip, work a little then gossip some more. He touches you sometimes and they linger, as if testing the soft tension between you. Just his presence soothes you so you’re sad when he invites you to drinks afterwards with him and the other office members and you decline.

“I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace right now, maybe later?” He looks a bit dejected and it makes your chest hurt—rushing to add,

“Just the two of us?”

His head snaps up, smiling almost blindingly as he nods. It’s cute.

After a while, you decide you’re done for the day. Shutting down your computer while Kihyun tidies the area and helps you get your things. Walking out the building together, he’s so close your shoulders touch, rambling about places you two should go to. Your heart flutters but it doesn’t pound and maybe that’s for the best.

The others come out a few minutes later but going the opposite direction and you two share a look.

“Looks like that’s your cue. You wouldn’t hold your liver back on my account, right?” His smile is heart stopping as he looks at you, shaking his head.

“Never.”

Then he does the pleasantly unsuspected. Leaning towards you, you get a whiff of his cologne when he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. Warmth blooms from your chest up to your cheeks, ears burning while your heartbeat quickens. A soft gasp spills from your lips and his breath tickles your ear when he huffs a gentle laugh.

“I hope we’ll go out soon.”

Pulling away, he watches you nod, pleased at how he’s visibly flustered you before heading off with the others as the sun begins to set. You have no idea how long you stand there. Jittery nerves, racing heart, and the crushing realization that you don’t know what to do.

So, you do the only thing you can do for now.

Go home.

The air is warm and it’s peacefully quiet, none of the cold terror that’s been following you day and night. Your thoughts drift as you walk, humming softly when your cheek still tingles. It’s so ridiculous, being this brightened by a kiss on the cheek from a guy you’re fond of but it feels so nice you can’t bring yourself to care, giggling quietly to yourself.

“Is he funnier than me?”

Before you can turn, a hand claps over your mouth, dragging you into the narrow alleyway, off the street. Your heart falls to your ass as you struggle, feeling a hard body press tight to yours, keeping you against the wall. Blood pounds in your ear drums while the worse scenarios run through your mind.

Each more terrifying than the last— you slam your eyes closed to block out the images, tears starting to flow. That’s then the hand leaves your mouth to cup your cheek, the one Kihyun kissed, softly shushing you until you force yourself to quiet.

“Shhh, you’re okay baby…”, your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice.”

“It’s just me.” If anything, the panic comes back with a vengeance, making your voice shake when you say his name.

“Niki?”

He hums, looking at your tear streaked face with an expression you can’t name. It terrifies you all the same. He looks good because of course he does and for a second you wished he was normal because you’d like him then. If he wasn’t fucking crazy he’d have a guarantee of being your boyfriend instead of the one night stand from hell.

When Riki finally speaks, his voice is deceptively soft.

“Who was that?”

The blood drains from your body so fast it leaves you weak as you start to tremble. He means Kihyun. For some reason, you don’t want to tell him his name. It could be you being paranoid but you know if you do, you’d be putting him in danger. Taking a deep breath, you ask who.

“That guy. He was all over you— like you belonged to him and not me.”

He sneers before leaning in to trace your jaw with his lips, tongue falling out to lap at your racing pulse. Your heart skips a beat and against every instinct you know, your cunt throbs. It’s humiliating and more frightening than you can stand but you stay quiet and that just won’t do.

Letting go of your face, his hand lowers to wrap around your throat. Fear seizes you as you go completely still. His hand is so big it spans your neck completely, fingers tightening slightly.

“Say it.”

You hesitate.

“I-I—“, Riki’s expression hardens, pushing you more against the wall.

“You said it then—screamed it too. I want you to say it again now”, his tone leaves no room for argument, discussion or sane thinking, overwhelming you.

“Tell me you’re mine, baby.”

What if you say it just to get him off your case? You stop yourself because he’s the type to take an inch out of a mile and he’ll follow you till the ends of the earth to do it. Riki’s chest is firm under your trembling hands and before you can even think of pushing him away—

“Don’t run, you’ll only make me chase you.”

It’s both a threat and a promise, one you can’t break ever. A sob breaks from your chest, devastated and hopeless. Riki comforts you, kissing your face and whispering gently like he’s not the cause of your misery but at the same time your heart swells at how sweetly he consoles you.

“Just need to hear it, sweets, then I’ll make it better.”

He lets you cry it out, patiently and soothingly. Truth be told, he’s hard right now because the only other time he remembers you crying was in his bed, covered in his marks. You were so lovely but especially when you cried.

The hug tightens, comforting and suffocating.

“W-what”, you want to ask what he wants from you but you already know. Asking would only make him think you’re giving it to him. But how long could you realistically hold out? You can’t avoid him forever— can’t avoid the things you push out when you see him forever either. It’s late, you’re tired.

This round will just have to go to him.

“I-“, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I want you to stop following me everywhere.”

It goes silent before he pulls back to look at you. A dark smile creeps across his face.

“No. I want to be wherever you are.” Frustration bubbles up inside you and you snap, all your emotions explode at their breaking point.

“Why?! It was one night— what don’t you get!”

He doesn’t yell back, simply shakes his head like you’re the one who doesn’t get it, before murmuring.

“It’s not my fault”,

“You are mine. You’re the reason I’m like this—the way you make me feel I don’t want any guy feeling like that about you and you aren’t allowed to feel that way about them either.”

You scoff in disbelief. Not allowed? He really is nuts.

“Today is proof. I leave you alone for a second —“, bullshit because you know he never left. “And they all come running to try and take you away from me, like that guy.”

Kihyun— but you won’t dare say another man’s name now.

Riki huffs, dropping his head to where your neck meets your shoulder, inhaling deeply as he calms down. It’s like your scent soothes him, grip loosening as he messily starts to suckle the skin there and a switch flips.

“I missed you.”

His kisses move across your neck after fingers wind in to pull your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth, tongue licking up the expanse until he reaches your lips. Your head spins, confused, scared, guilty too because underneath the fact that you know you need to be as far away from Riki as possible— you want him.

A shiver licks up your spine at his tongue in your mouth, wet lips sliding together, cunt giving a painful throb when he groans in your throat. You tried so hard not to think about that night but she remembered, craving him ever since. So maybe that’s why when he pulls away, licking the string of spit away, your mouth moves before you can stop it.

“I missed you too…”

Riki’s eyes light up, this is the first time you said it back.

Your eyes are red and glossy, pretty face tired and miserable but you mean it. He’s always around but it paled to the attention he gave you when he was close. It’s dangerous this way, letting him pull you in just so you push deep and fall back into him anyways.

What’s worse is that you can’t even explain it. The pull. Yes, he’s attractive and you like his voice and the way he laughs and his single minded affection for you but what else. Why is it so hard for you not to give in?

Your head already hurts, just think about it later.

Hands find your waist as lifts you against the wall, your fingers running through his hair as he kisses you until his air becomes yours. Body temperatures rising, Riki moves his lips harder against yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, growling when he feels your tongue swipe across his teeth.

He pulls away panting, forehead to yours when he pleads,

“Please, baby…”, your resolve shatters at the soft kiss to the swell of your cheek.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

And you do.

Riki swarms you seconds after, high off of how you give in.

His hands and lips are everywhere, kissing your face and hands, neck all the way down your stomach as he drops to his knees. Heat plummets to your core when he pushes your skirt up to bury his face in your pussy, huffing your scent like an addict, a heady moan spills through his lips.

“Fuck, you smell so good...”

Biting your lip to hold back your noises, acutely aware that even though it’s dark out now, you’re still in public.

“Niki—what if s-someone sees?”

He shakes his head, ripping your pantyhose right at the middle so he can do the same to your underwear. Mouth watering when he sees your pussy again, wasting no time as he drags the flat of his tongue through your wet folds. Oh, how he missed your taste.

“If anyone sees, I’ll kill them.”

You freeze but he keeps going, sucking and biting, he whines when you try to push him back, nipping your clit in retaliation.

The pleasure is debilitating as he laps into you again, his tongue dipping shallowly into your soaked hole before flicking the underside of your clit. You gasp, chest tipping forward at his mouth suctioning over the nub, grinding his tongue against it as he sucks hard making you scream, high and desperate.

Wet smacks and slurps with pussydrunk groans from Riki vibrate your cunt—bringing you even closer as you shake, pulling his hair while he palms his dick through his pants before pulling it out altogether.

It’s debased— the way he goes at it. Sucking you off on his knees while messily stroking his fat cock all because you told him you’re his and that you missed him. At the same time, it’s also kinda poetic; how only you can make him this pathetic.

Broken moans burst from your chest when you’re cumming, grinding your pussy back and forth on his tongue. It’s bright and consuming, washing away everything but bliss and the man who dies to have you.

Riki’s mouth down to his neck are soaked in your cum as he sloppily licks you clean, jaw working hypnotically as he cums seconds later off your taste and you’re just as bad because you watch. Even after he’s done, resting his head on your leg, you don’t leave him— no you let him stay on his knees at your feet like you’re the only thing worth breathing for.

You’re scared but for a different reason entirely this time when you ask so softly the wind almost catches it,

“Would you seriously kill over me?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

The monster before is nothing compared the monster you’ve created now.

X

O

X

O

From then on, things began to spiral.

You only leave the house when you absolutely have to and you keep your relationships close as possible starting with Amu. After what happened between you and Riki the last time you ran into him, you can’t put it past him to not harm people he felt would take you away.

When you got home that night, she practically flew into your arms, worried out of her mind as she cried. The sound of her sobs broke your heart as you held her.

“And it just got later and later and you weren’t picking up the phone and your office hadn’t seen you either and I thought—“,

You know. She knows.

All the times you called her losing your mind when you’d see him and she’d come speeding to get you, witnessing firsthand the unnerving compulsion Riki had towards you. It’s also when you make the decision to not tell her everything that happened or your conversation, telling her some but not all since you were still coming to grips with it yourself.

That as much as you want Riki gone, you need him close which is dangerous; even more than him.

In short, you become a ghost. Work, home and that’s it. You leave before anyone else at work especially before Kihyun.

You don’t hit the club or go shopping, if you need something, you have it delivered and frequent check ins with Amu when she’s not home. For the sake of both your sanities, the humongous bouquets of flowers Jungwon regularly sends stay outside until someone takes them and absolutely no picking up calls from anyone not in the contacts.

Anytime you even think of the name starting with R or a face with too full lips, you run to the shower. Standing under an ice cold spray and physically washing him off you. You don’t care if it’s crazy, it’ll never be as insane as him so it’ll have to do.

Today you’re at work but half the usual office is gone since today marks the first day of the internship program they do.

Only a handful of workers who have been longer than a year are allowed to stay and work with them which you qualify for. They’re nice, shaking hands and speaking carefully, overly polite in the way you are when you’re new somewhere.

It’s a nice change of pace, calm even.

They have lunch together, nerves and smiles as you decide to pull in for the day, knowing your other senior peers can handle it. You’re walking out the building when another intern is just now walking back in.

He’s unfortunately, ridiculously cute. Your mouth drops for a second before you remember to be professional. His hair is the kind of blond that’s almost white, ta pretty nose, not just tall but broad too and when he smiles you could swoon. The tag on his shirt that’s given to interns reads, ‘H. Kai’. He smiles and you’re smiling too as you pass, greeting him sweetly.

“Hi.”

A soft pink blushes his cheeks when he nods at you, saying it back softly as you go.

When you turn the corner, you freeze. It’s Riki and he doesn’t look happy.

A cold, still rage darkens his face and you have to tackle the urge to run.

“Ni—“,

“Who’s that guy you just said hi to?”

Your mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out, heart beginning to race as he stares you down.

“Why were you smiling at him like that?”

Backing up, you try to create at least a little distance but he’s right there, gaze endless and seething. Of all the times he’s accosted you, you’ve only seen him angry when it comes to other men. You don’t know why it took you so long to connect the dots.

“You’re jealous.”

The look he gives you could chill hell into an ice age, grabbing you by your wrist as he pulls you with him. Panic burns through your chest as he stays silent and no matter how hard you pull or claw at his fingers, you can’t break free. Riki doesn’t stop until you’re somewhere he deems secluded enough, grabbing your face to pull you into a rough kiss.

When you try to move your head away, he just follows you, moving to hold the back of your head so you have no other choice but to accept his kiss. Between the initial burst of fear and anxiety paired with your thrumming heart, you run out of air fast. Lungs burning while Riki kisses you even deeper.

Opening your mouth to try and breathe, Riki covers it with his before sliding his tongue in, petting the roof of your mouth as your ears begin to ring— heart hammering. You can’t breathe. Not when he’s blocking it like this. Dizziness starts to overtake you as a minute goes by then another and another.

You’re limp against him, black spots dancing in your darkening vision. He supports you, holds your body up while you start to lose consciousness, licking into your open mouth like he’s trying to get the last bits of honey out of a jar.

Only after does he pull away, licking his lips contently.

Now, you come with him.

X

O

X

O

The first thing that comes to you is that you have terrible taste in men.

If you picked the safer choice instead of the hotter one, you wouldn’t be waking up in the bed of your one night stand who turned out to be a complete psychopath but here you are. Riki watches you come to consciousness laying next to you, eyes soft as you blink drowsily. Has he been watching you sleep this whole time?

“W-what—“ your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton when you talk. “What’s going on? We’re…?”

He gets up to pass you a drink off the bedside table, holding the straw between your lips as you start to drink a bit but stop as you look at him.

“It’s okay, I didnt do anything weird to it.” To prove it, he takes a few sips before bringing it back to your lips. It’s unsettling, the way he watches you drink the chilled liquid with utter adoration in his eyes. When you’ve had enough, you pull away and he puts it back on the nightstand as you slowly sit up as you remember.

“You made me pass out.”

Sensing the distance you’re trying to put between you, Riki gently guides you back down on the bed, staying on top of you to keep you where he wants you. He doesn’t deny it, merely nodding as if it’s something that’s okay to do.

“I did”, nosing along your jaw, you shiver when you feel his breath.

“But it’s not my fault”, you have to close your eyes as his tongue curl around your pulse, smacking a wet kiss to it.

“It’s because of you.”

Heat begins to lap at your skin and you try to push him away. It doesn’t do anything but make him grab your hands, moving them to the nape of his neck when he brings his head under your shirt.

This was the worst possible day to go without a bra because the first lick has you saying fuck it as you throw caution to the wind. Riki can feel the pounding of your heart as he kisses over your breasts, first your left then your right. Your body begins to tingle as his kisses grow wetter around your nipples, moaning breathily. You watch his head move beneath your shirt, grinding down against your pussy whenever you jolt at a particularly hard bite.

Licking the flat of his tongue against the swollen buds, Riki goes nice and slow so you can really feel it before his teeth close over it, sending electricity up your spine as you cry out—fingers digging into his neck. The leftover ache stings, blooming pain that makes you so wet when he slides your nipples from between his teeth to soothe them with generous wet laps of tongue.

Your eyes glaze over as he repeats the ministrations, moaning his name and it’s euphoric to him. Capturing a nipple between his teeth, he tugs, making you scream before releasing it, watching it jiggle back into place as he laps at it in apology. Large hands under your lower back push your body up flush to his so when he rolls his hips into you, you feel everything.

It’s impossible to get over how big he is, you think. Your head is all floaty, high off the intoxicating mix of pain with pleasure. Starry eyes flutter back because it feels like you’re being eaten alive in the best ways possible. Riki’s mouth is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as watery cries spill from your throat.

You hips twitch up, clothes adding friction as his cock catches on your clit. The reaction is instantaneous— your back arches while your thighs tremble, squeezing his hips.

“Riki—!”

His rhythm doesn’t falter at your out of pace hips, rocking with you until your voice pitches, lapping and biting your chest as your orgasm slams through you. Mouth dropping in a shrill moan, your nipples burning even as he licks them, the buds puffy and stiff from his overwhelming attention.

He reappears from under your shirt to watch your face as you cum because of him. Sweat beading along your hairline, eyes glossy and unfocused while you cry so so prettily for him. Almost feral, Riki rips your shirt open.

The air is cool against your stinging oversensitive nipples, pussy throbbing in the aftershock. It’s hot and his shirt is the next to go, whipping it off to reveal his toned torso before dropping down to kiss you.

Unlike his other kisses, this one screams possession—that you’re his and his alone.

No saying hi to any guys that aren’t him.

No smiling at any guys that aren’t him.

He’ll kill them and keep you.

Your skirt is next, followed by your wet panties. Sliding the fabric off, he doesn’t toss them, instead he holds them to his face as your cheeks burn when he inhales— groaning rough and ruined in his chest. A shaky breath pushes from your lungs, eyes wide as he strips out of his pants and boxers to stand in front of you naked.

Everything suddenly feels more real.

The fact that you shouldn’t be here with him like this because he’s obsessed, Amu is probably blowing your phone up, but most importantly he’s dangerous. Nothing good can possibly come from a relationship with him, right?

Fingers wrap around your ankles while you’re lost in thought, letting out a startled shriek when he yanks you to him. You open your mouth to protest but Riki cuts you off with another melty kiss, toned arms trapping you in. He pulls away rub the tips of your noses together, the way he almost stares into you shakes everything about the way you thought you felt.

“Don’t say no…”

You can’t.

Not when you feel the way you do, pulling him down for a kiss instead, whining into his mouth as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. The head of his cock meets your entrance but he doesn’t push in immediately.

“I like you so much, pretty…”, you feel your eyes start to water as you nod, emotions swirling.

“I’ve never been this out of my mind until I met you”, he kisses you again, sweetly as he rocks his hips forward. The pressure pops, leaving just the tip inside as you moan in unison, holding onto him through the burn of the stretch.

You shiver, that sweltering heat back with a new kind of force, making your walls pulsate around him as if begging him for more. Riki doesn’t yet, holding back as he tells you again,

“I like you.”

Sniffling wetly, you nod at him, dazed and so torn as you stare into his face.

“I know.”

He pushes in more, hissing at how your soaked pussy hugs tight around him. This might be the worst decision of your life but you can’t take it anymore. The running, the hiding, the constant fear of looking over your shoulder and pretending like your heart doesn’t flutter even before it drops when you see him.

Everything’s so overwhelming, you feel full and empty at the same time as you cling to him. Riki is big so he has to force himself in a bit, moaning when you flutter around him. The sound is pained and wrecked by how badly he’d been needing this—needing you and now you’re here, right where you should be.

“Like me back”, he whines, pelvis flush to yours before he pulls out to slam his hips forward, hitting that spot that makes you sob and the sound makes him lose it.

You’re so fucking wet, strings of your slick drip off his cock every time he pulls out, wetting him up as he fucks you with deep, smooth strokes. The drag of his cock is intense, turning your brain to mush when it pulls against your snug walls in dizzying fullness.

“So tight— nobody else, baby?”

Gritting out the question through tight teeth as he bullies his cock in, making it fit with every brutal thrust. You’re completely delirious, already on the brink of another soul ending orgasm but much to his delight you shake your head, panting.

“N- ngh! No…jus’ you—!” Or better translated, you haven’t let anyone touch you since the night you spent with him and his eyes flash.

“Ohhh, good girl”, he breaths, eyes rolling when your pussy spurts more slick at the petname. “My good fuckin’ girl, yeah?” You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah!—uh huh!”

His smile is too angelic for the devilish way he manipulates your body. Angling your hips up, he settles into a pace that has him knocking into that tender spot nestled inside you with ease. Struggling to even breathe, your warbled moans turn shrill when his pelvis slams against your clit more.

A vulgar, almost inhuman sound forces it’s way from your throat and it makes Riki’s spine tingle. Bending down to catch you in a kiss full of spit and tongue, your eyes roll straight into the back of your head while your stuffed cunt sensitively flutters around him as you cum.

Your orgasm takes you in a way that wipes you clean, turning you into a blank slate— stars dancing in your vision as you drool, falling limp on the sheets.

Riki watches you die and come back alive in real time, a bottomless hunger in his blown pupils as he’s consumed with the need to have you until you’re in his bones, holding back his orgasm off sheer will alone.

You’re a mess— sobbing, screaming, squirting and begging when he starts back up. The steady push and pull of his heavy cock in your pulpy cunt drives you off the cliffs of your sanity as you claw at him. Pain lights across your nervous system when you feel him bite, the same as last time, marking you so viciously you almost bleed before he’s licking the indents.

“You are mine”, he rumbles, voice low and distant. “You belong only to me…”

He fucks you like he’s trying to prove it to you, like there’s no other way of life for him without you in it.

The steady thrusts turn rattling as your greedy cunt swallows him whole. There won’t be anymore confusion after this, you’ll stay his this time but what scares you is that you want it, cumming at just the thought of being kept like this all the time. His and his alone while his rhythm becomes frantic, fueled by desperation as he begs.

“Please”, Riki kisses his marks before kissing your lips, gasping as he fights how he’s unraveling.

“Please like me back”, When he kisses you again, you kiss back just as fervently, lapping at each others tongues between hot moans as you rasp his name and finally stop fighting yourself.

“I do like you—“, a guttural groan shreds his chest apart when he cums, burrowing himself into you as deep as he can when you’re suddenly flooding with warmth.

He’s already too big but now he’s too deep, sending your cunt into a pulsating episode, squeezing down on his cock so violently your screams make your own ears ring. Riki refuses to stop, pumping his hips to ride out the mind-numbing waves of ecstasy as your pussy erupts, spraying his abs in your cum.

Blindly, you smack his arm, trying to make him realize that he needs to pull the fuck out because the pressure on your guts is too much when he rocks forward—sending you into another squirting fit as you become pure static.

“I love you”, he coos, making you take it with hearts in his eyes. “My pretty girl…”

By the time he decides you’re done, the bed is beyond saving and you’re a puff of air away from being comatose while your soul enjoys a round trip out of your body.

Riki is extra soft then, feeling a bit guilty for overdoing it again after you admitted that you like him. You’re so still it makes him nervous but you’re breathing and that’s what counts. Kissing your cheeks, then forehead, down the bridge of your nose to your lips, he nuzzles you one last time.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna draw a bath for us.”

He watches your breathing even out before he goes, steps light.

X

O

Warm water and gentle lights greet you when you wake up, blinking blearily as you look around the space.

“Feel okay, baby?”

Riki whispers against the back of your shoulder, kissing the skin softly. Strangely, there’s no rush to get away from him, leaning back into his arms among the sweet scented bubbles as you nod.

“Never better.”

Before you can relax too much, you remember something important,

“My phone?”

Riki hums, pressing you closer to enjoy the silky feel of your softness against him before responding.

“Check it after we get out”, you kiss him back when he captures your mouth with a sweltering devotion. Affection strikes through your chest as he moves his lips with yours like he plans for you two to be a while….

An hour later, finally in the bedroom and somewhat clothed, Riki lays his head in your lap as you check your messages—clicking on Amu’s thread.

The latest message was not sent by you but by the man practically purring up a storm in your lap. It’s a picture of him smiling brightly next to your naked sleeping form followed by a flurry of threats from her swearing hell unto the galaxy if you weren’t safe.

You look down at him.

He looks up at you— and smiles.

“How did you know my password?”

You quickly jump out of bed, yanking open the curtains, but you see no one. No figures, not even the sound of footsteps on the lamp-lit street.

This has been your life for the past few months. Living in constant fear, because someone was clearly here. Always with you, wherever you were.

You've called the police on him once, but they just laughed in your face and called you delusional. You'd blocked the number multiple times, but the messages never stopped.

Your phone buzzed again, a new message lighting up the screen.

Unknown: You looked so pretty when you laughed with your friends today. I wish I could hear it up close.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. You didn't see anyone around you that time, but he was there. He was watching. He was always fucking watching.

Unknown: I'm not gonna hurt you, my baby. I just want to be near you, that's all.

The words are soft, but they send ice down your spine.

The next day, the campus was buzzing with students chatting and laughing, but you were hyper-aware of everything. You walked while chatting with a friend as you made your way to 'Psychology 101'

You slide into a seat, pulling out a notebook, a pen, and your phone.

A buzz makes you jolt, and a new message notification pops up on your screen.

Unknown: Wow. You look stunning today.

Unknown: I've never seen you wear purple before. It suits you, my love.

Unknown: I saw you smile at your friend when she complimented you today. I wanted to be the one to make you smile like that.

You were so sure no one was watching you, but he was there. Your chest tightens with guilt and confusion. The stubborn flutter in your stomach twists into shame.

You stare at your phone like it might explode. This stalker had no right to make you feel that weird little spark when he called you pretty. He was a creep. And you were being utterly disgusting.

You wanted to scream. To throw your phone across the room. Pull your hair out. But deep down, the stupid heat never left. Like a dirty secret only meant to burden you.

The professor droned on about cognitive bias, but your mind was miles away. Your eyes scanned the faces of each and every person in front of you, to see if you recognized any of them. You fought the urge to glance back.

Was he sitting behind you? Was he staring at the back of your head? Would you make eye contact with him as soon as you turned around?

And then, your phone vibrated silently against the table. Not a notification this time, but a call. Your heart lurches, watching the phone light up, shivering against the table. The call goes straight to voicemail after two rings. Silence fell again.

You exhale, shoulders relaxing just a tad, but then your phone buzzes again. A text this time:

Unknown: I wanted to hear your voice.

Unknown: It's rude not to answer when someone calls you, bunny.

You squeeze your eyes shut, ignoring the buzzing entirely, but the messages never stop.

Unknown: You're being so cold today.

Unknown: I can see you bite your lip. Are you nervous, bunny?

Unknown: You'll draw blood at this rate, my love. Relax.

The next message made nausea settle in your stomach. A picture. Of you. Taken now.

You were leaning forward, elbows on the desk, pen between your fingers. Your half-ponytail falling over one shoulder, silver earring catching the light.

He'd taken it from the right side of the class, just a few rows behind. Underneath it, a single message.

Unknown: I love this picture. You look so beautiful.

The compliment hits like a jolt, warm and electric, spreading through your chest despite yourself.

You absolutely despised the fact that you liked it. Hated the way your breath stuttered along with your heart. Your fingers curled around the phone's edge, knuckles whitening. You felt like an experiment being observed. Like a lab rat under a microscope, being perceived too deeply.

The professor paused briefly to ask a question, a student answered, and in that split second of noise and movement, you risked it.

Just one quick glance over your shoulder.

Your pulse spiked the second your eyes landed on him.

Hood up. Cap low. Entire face hidden in shadow. But you felt it, the weight of his stare burning into your shoulder, down your arm, lingering on the curve of your neck where silver jewelry glistened.

He wasn’t moving. Didn’t shift or blink, just sitting there. Still as a statue. Watching like this was all he had to do for eternity, just look at you and exist near you, and it would be enough.

You looked at him for a millisecond before you snapped your head back forward. You kept your gaze forward, but your senses were hyper-alert to him.

It was maddening.

How could someone be so close and yet completely unknowable? Just a silhouette in dark clothes with eyes you couldn’t see but still felt like needles on your skin.

Then, your phone buzzed again, the screen lit up, face down on your desk:

Unknown: You looked back.

Unknown: Did I scare you?

You dare to reply. Maybe if he understands that he's scaring you, he'll back off.

You: Yes.

Unknown: Good.

The reply came fast, like he's been waiting for your honesty.

You: You're fucking crazy.

Unknown: Yeah.

Unknown: I watch you because I have to. Because if I don't, someone else might notice you first.

Unknown: The thought of that makes me sick.

The class ends, and you shove your book into your bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and darting for the door. The lecture hall emptied slowly behind you, but you didn't look back. Your breath came out in quick bursts, panic rising in your chest.

Your heart is pounding, not from running but from fear. You weave through the campus courtyard, head lowered, but eyes scanning ahead. Your phone stayed off in your pocket. No more messages, no knowing whether he was near or not.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a shadow moved fast between buildings. It was gone the second you turned your head fully, vanishing into thin air. But he was there. You know he was.

You picked up your speed, cursing yourself for wearing heels while heading towards the main gate, the one that led off campus. The exit where buses stopped, cars came and went, where you'd get safety in numbers.

You take a deep breath, stepping forward. But then your eyes flicked to the bus stop across the street. A figure in a black hoodie. Staring right at you.

You freeze, eyes wide with panic. You spin on your heel and dart back through the gate, stumbling. Back into the crowd. Anywhere but the bus stop. Your lungs burned with the lack of oxygen, mind clouded with fear as you wove between students. No destination in mind.

All you knew was that you had to get away. Away from him, away from the hooded figure that might've just been some random guy, but it didn't matter.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, and so you ran.

The campus blurred around you, students turning their heads at your frantic pace, a few calling out in concern, but no one reached for you. No one stopped you.

Panic burned behind your eyes, threatening tears, but they wouldn’t fall yet. You rounded a corner sharply, and the library loomed ahead. Anywhere with people.

The library was hushed, pages turning, keyboards tapping softly. The air smelled like old books and coffee. You slammed into the chair across from the hunched guy, chest heaving.

He looked up slowly, tall with messy blonde hair. A thick psychology textbook was open in front of him. His eyes widened slightly at your sudden appearance, the panic still raw on your face.

You pull some random book from the shelf behind you and slap it onto the table, pretending to read. The guy just sat silently, no questions asked, as if he saw people run into libraries looking like they just escaped death every day.

After a few minutes, you look around once. No hooded figure. No shadowy figure lurking. No text buzzing to life. You couldn't feel anyone's eyes on you. Nothing.

The tension in your shoulders eased, just a fraction. You took a deeper breath this time, slower, and finally relaxed into the chair.

The guy across from you glanced up again, then gave you a small half-smile before returning to his notes like nothing had happened.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it kept hitching every few seconds. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling under the table.

Across from you, the guy glanced up once more.

"Fuck, this must be so weird for you," you say with a breathy chuckle, finally glancing up at him. Recognition dawned on your face, "Riki?" you exclaim, a smile blooming across your face.

Nishimura Riki. You'd been paired up once for a music prod. project. You haven't exactly been in touch other than a few messages here and there.

"I was wondering when you'd recognize me. Is everything okay?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. He's always been sweet to you, and you considered him a friend.

"Yeah, everything's alright," you say with a smile, and he nods back. "I haven't seen you in a while, Riki-yah. How have you been?" you ask, leaning over the table. His eyes sweep over your face once, and you feel the hair at your nape stand, as if your body recognized it. It feels familiar. Like him....

You shoot down the idea immediately. Fuck you were just being unreasonably paranoid.

He replies, "I've been good. Classes are kicking my ass,"

"I feel you, dude. I barely get any sleep nowadays."

He chuckles, a low sound that makes you relax a little. "You're in the advanced composition group now, right? With Professor Lee?"

"Wait, did you get put in that group too?"

"Yeah, I did. Kinda mad you haven't noticed me," he teases, and you chuckle, a soft sound in the quiet of the library, "Aigo, did I make you sad, Riki-san?"

He scowls at you, but his lips tug into a smile. "Y/n, I was thinking, we should collab again. For that project, Prof. Lee assigned. We did so well last time, so why not do it again?"

His eyes were bright now, and you nodded excitedly, "Fuck yeah, we should, I loved what we came up with last time."

“Hell yes!” he whispered-shouted, then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth when a librarian shot him a glare.

He lowered his voice again, grinning like an idiot. Then he pulled out his phone. “Give me your number,” he said eagerly. “We can text about ideas later.”

"Whoa, this is insane, wait lemme-" You open your phone. The ding made your blood freeze. Your screen lit up.

Unknown: You're talking to a guy.

Unknown: Who is he?

Panic rises in your throat once more. The reply came fast, colder than any other message.

Unknown: I'm always watching, bunny.

That calm certainty, like it was his birthright to observe you every second of every day, sent chills down your spine.

Unknown: Is he your boyfriend?

You: No

The response came quick, like he'd been waiting for that exact answer.

Unknown: Good.

It sent another chill down your spine, made your fingers tremble again. It wasn't loud or angry, just pure possession.

You: Leave, please

The typing bubble appeared instantly. No hesitation.

Unknown: I can't, my love.

Unknown: You're mine to watch, bunny.

Unknown: That's how it always has to be.

It wasn't a threat. It was a fact, stated as if it were common knowledge. You had to leave. Immediately.

"I-I have to go," you mutter to Riki, picking up your bag.

Riki glances up from his phone, a pleased smile on his lips, as if he'd been expecting you to say that. "Yeah, okay," he says softly, then adds, "Text me later? For the project?"

"Yeah, definitely. Bye..." you say with a smile and a wave, hurrying out.

The heavy doors swung shut behind you. Sunlight hit your face again. Campus bustled with students between classes, groups laughing, couples walking hand-in-hand.

Everything looked normal. Safe.

But under it all? Your stomach twisted.

That's when a devastating thought crept up on you. He wouldn't hurt anyone, would he? The thought hit like a cold wave, sudden and suffocating.

You stopped walking. Right there, in the middle of the path, students flow around you.

Would he…?

Not just watch. Not just text. But act.

Would he see Riki as a threat? And worse, what would he do about it?

And suddenly you had to get an answer. Your fingers as you click on the chat. No new messages.

You: Will you hurt him?

Unknown: No.

You let out a shaky exhale, relief flooding your chest, only if it is just for a moment. You should block his number again. But you haven't, and somehow that feels worse than everything else.

You: Are you still watching?

Unknown: Yes

No explanation. No lie. Just the blunt, honest truth.

Unknown: You're standing by the fountain now.

Unknown: Wearing that pretty black sweater.

Unknown: Your hair is down today. Did you forget your claw clip today, baby?

He was watching you right now. Right this second, he's in the crowd, eyes trained on you.

You scanned again, more carefully this time. Checked the rooftops? No one. The library windows? Just students studying inside. The coffee shop across the way? No one.

Your phone buzzed.

Unknown: Turn around slowly.

Your heart jumped. You didn’t want to turn around. But you did, slowly.

And then, a soft vibration in your pocket again.

Unknown: Look up.

Your eyes flicked upward automatically, scanning the second-floor windows of the buildings surrounding the courtyard.

At a window on the third floor of the fine arts dorm, half-hidden by a curtain. A shadow. A silhouette. The shadow didn’t move. Didn’t wave. Just stood there.

A tall, dark figure framed in the small window, hood up, face completely hidden under it.

But you knew.

Every fiber of your being screamed that he was staring right at you, even from three floors above and fifty feet away. You couldn't see his eyes, but they felt like laser beams drilling into your skin, the weight of his attention crushing down on you without a single word spoken.

Unknown: I see your face so clearly.

A pause.

Unknown: You look scared.

Not accusatory. Just observational. Cataloguing.

Another buzz. This time, the message was softer, almost tender.

Unknown: I don’t like seeing you scared.

Unknown: But I can’t stop watching you. It’s impossible.

The words gave you whiplash.

He hated that you were afraid. He wanted to be close to you. But his very presence- the stalking, the texts, the watching from windows- was what caused your fear in the first place.

And he knew it, yet he didn't stop. Your instincts seem to catch up to you then, and you turn on your heel, running out the campus gate.

No looking back. No checking if he was still at the window.

Just move. Fast. Panic fueling every step.

You get on the bus, doors hissing shut behind you as you tap your card.

You stumbled to a seat near the back, collapsing into it like all energy had drained from your body.

The vehicle rumbled to life, pulling away from campus with a lurch. The bus rolled down the main street, blending into city traffic. For now? You were safe. He wasn’t here. Your phone was silent, and you could breathe.

You get off at your stop.

The walk to your dorm felt longer than usual, every step heavier, every shadow longer. Your heels clicked on the pavement, each sound echoing slightly in the quiet residential street.

A headache pulsed behind your temples. Your chest still ached from running, from fear, from everything. But at least you were home now, in your own space.

The door clicked open, familiar scent of home hitting you: clean laundry and the faint vanilla candle you always lit.

You kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag by the couch. You finally relax, stepping out of your shoes, hissing at the bruises on your feet from running in heels as you pull your phone. You gulp down some water, calming down the erratic beating of your heart as you finally pull your phone out. Just as you move to plug it in, it buzzes again.

The buzz made you flinch, water glass halfway to your lips.

Unknown: You got home safe.

Not a question. A statement. As if he'd already known. Like he'd been tracking your route the whole time.

Unknown: I saw you limping when you walked inside.

Unknown: Do your feet hurt, my love?

Unknown: I'm sorry.

Two words you hadn't expected.

Unknown: I didn't mean to scare you, but I needed to know you were safe, sweetheart.

Unknown: I care about you more than anyone else.

The contradictions again. He terrified you to the core, but also claimed he did it because he cared.

You: are you watching?

Desperate to know if you could finally relax. Desperate to know if you were safe here.

Unknown: Not right now.

The phone lay on the table, screen still lit, glowing like an accusation. You scanned the room with wild eyes. Nothing seemed safe anymore.

Breathe. Just breathe, but air wouldn’t come right. Your chest tightened, pulse roaring in your ears. The buzz was soft, but in the dead silence of your dorm, it sounded deafening.

You didn’t move toward it right away. Couldn’t. Your hands were still shaking too badly to reach for it.

But then, another buzz. And another. Three messages in quick succession.

Unknown: Breathe.

Simple. Calm. Not mocking, almost gentle. Like he could feel you hyperventilating in real time.

Unknown: Don’t panic.

Unknown: I’m not gonna hurt you, bunny.

You: why are you doing this?

Your fingers are trembling now, tears threatening to spill over.

Unknown: Because I love you.

Three words. No exaggeration. No dramatic buildup.Just a raw, quiet confession, delivered like it explained everything.

And maybe to him, it did. He loved you, twisted and broken as his love was, and that’s why he watched every second of your life.

Unknown: I know this is scary, but I'll wait till you're ready.

Unknown: I'll wait as long as I need to for you.

The tingles came, unwanted, unwelcome. That stupid flutter in your chest again. The one that made your stomach twist with guilt.

Why did the idea of him waiting for you feel so tender?

He wasn’t shouting. Wasn’t demanding. Just quietly promising to stay, to be there, however long it took. It should’ve been creepy. (And it was.) But also, there was something almost romantic about his devotion, even if it came from obsession.

You hated yourself for feeling even a hint of warmth toward him

The phone hit the carpet with a soft thud, screen still lit, messages still glowing, but you didn’t care. Tears spilled silently, slipping down your cheeks as you curled into yourself on the couch.

Knees to chest. Arms wrapped tight around your body like armor.

Everything hurt. The fear. The confusion. Those damn flutters that made no sense at all.

You weren’t okay. You weren't safe, even in your own home. And he was watching, probably right now. You didn’t move. Just stayed curled up, hugging yourself like you could disappear into the couch if you tried hard enough. Inside? It felt hollow. Heavy.

Your phone lay forgotten on the floor. Screen dimming slowly.

You didn’t cry loudly. Just quiet, exhausted sobs, the kind that come when you’re too tired to fight anymore. Your eyes stung. Your chest ached.

Every thought tangled: fear, guilt, confusion, and those stupid flutters that wouldn't go away no matter how much you hated them. Outside the window, darkness had fallen completely now.

Sleep hit you like a wave, sudden and deep. One second, you were crying. The next, nothing. Your breathing slowed into soft, even rhythms. The tension in your body melted away as exhaustion finally won over fear.

You slept curled on the couch, hoodie still on, shoes off somewhere by the table. No blanket. No pillow. Just unconsciousness pulling you under into darkness.

The morning light crept through your blinds, soft and pale, painting stripes across the floor. You blinked slowly. Your head throbbed. Eyes felt swollen, heavy from last night’s crying.

Everything hurt, emotionally and physically. The stress had caught up in a full-body ache. Your neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch. Your mouth was dry.

The thought of stepping outside made your stomach twist.

You dragged yourself up, heart already pounding just from thinking about it. But skipping class wasn’t an option, not if you wanted to graduate. Not if you didn’t want professors noticing.

The shower ran hot, and you stood under the water, trying to wash off last night’s exhaustion. The heat soothed your sore muscles, but it didn’t touch the anxiety humming under your skin.

Dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy. Just functional. Skipped breakfast entirely despite your stomach growling like a bear.

One black coffee poured into a travel mug. Keys grabbed. Phone shoved in pocket, and you just walked out.

You practically speed-walked, no, ran, toward campus, paranoid. Heart hammering. Breath uneven. Every shadow making your skin prickle.

The classroom door swung shut behind you; luckily, no one noticed your frantic entrance. The buzz hit again, sharp and sudden against your thigh.

You slid into the second row seat, still breathing a little too fast. Hands gripped the edge of the desk like it was an anchor.

Your breath caught. Everyone else was focused on the professor’s lecture, but you were frozen in your seat.

Unknown: You're sitting in the second row.

Unknown: You're sitting in the aisle seat today, though. Nervous, baby?

You: you're here?

Unknown: Yes, as always, bunny

Again, no explanation. No elaboration. Just a simple, chilling confirmation that made your heart speed up.

He was here. Right now. Your eyes darted around again: students, teachers, then back to your phone. Which face? Who? Someone you knew? Or a stranger sitting quietly like nothing was wrong?

You: are you a music major?

Unknown: Yes.

So he shared all his classes with you. He could be everywhere you were without arousing suspicion. Before you could finish that thought, another message came.

Unknown: I'm sitting in the back row. Third seat from the left.

Your stomach dropped. He wasn't even hiding now. You clenched your jaw. You were absolutely not gonna turn around.

That’s exactly what he wanted: you looking for him, reacting, giving him attention. So you stayed forward. Eyes locked on the professor. Pencil tapping nervously against your notebook. But every muscle in your body was tense, aware that just a few rows behind you.

He was sitting there. Watching you like always.

The buzz vibrated softly against your desk, this time louder, maybe because you were so hyper-aware of it.

Another message.

Unknown: I like your sweater.

Simple. Casual. Like a normal comment between two people who were dating. Before you could continue that thought, another buzz sounded immediately after.

Unknown: You smell like flowers today.

Unknown: I liked the vanilla one much better, sweetheart.

Your chest tightened. Nausea crept up your throat. That wasn't something casual. No one had been close enough to smell you so accurately today, yet he knew.

The phone clattered onto the desk, loud enough that a few students glanced over. You didn’t care.

How did he know?

The professor paused mid-sentence, glancing toward the noise. A hush fell for half a second.

A beat of silence.

Then, without a word, he simply adjusted his glasses and continued lecturing like nothing had happened. The class exhaled quietly. Students turned back around. But your face burned with embarrassment and fear. Your phone still sat there. Screen dark now.

You didn’t wait for class to end.

The moment the professor turned his back again, focused on writing chords on the board, you stood. Quietly. Fast.

Zipped your bag, shoved books in without care. Then you walked straight out, the door clicking softly behind you. No one stopped you. No one questioned it.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, phone in hand, you unlocked it. Three new messages. They'd piled up while you were in class.

You tapped on the chat and read them one by one.

Unknown: You left early.

Unknown: Are you okay, my love?

The flutters came first, unwanted, stupid little butterflies in your stomach at the words. It shouldn’t have affected you. He was a stalker. A creep. He terrified you.

But that question? It sounded so normal. So human. Like someone who actually cared. And then, nausea crashed right after, wiping out any warmth.

He cared his way. Twisted and possessive.

You broke into a run the second you hit the campus gates. Wind rushed past your face as you sprinted down sidewalks, dodging pedestrians without looking.

Heart pounding from exercise and pure adrenaline. Panic fueled every step. He said he was following. So where was he? Behind? On a bike? Watching from afar?

You didn't dare look back to satisfy your curiosity.

You bounded up the stairs, two at a time, boots thudding against each step. No one was in the hallway. Your key fumbled for half a second before it slid into the lock, and then you were inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

Click. Locked. Chest heaving. Hands shaking again. Safe. Maybe.

You: were you behind?

The reply came instantly.

Unknown: Yes.

Unknown: I saw you running.

Unknown: You looked scared, sweetheart.

You: I am

Unknown: I know. But I can't stop.

The last text sounded almost guilty. Like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't bear to stop now.

The lock clicked, loud, deliberate. Like it actually meant something. Like a thin piece of metal could keep him out if he really wanted in.

You sank to the floor right in the middle of your living room, back against the couch, knees drawn up. Silence. No phone buzzing anymore.

Just you. Breathing, albeit shallowly. The apartment stayed quiet. Too quiet. No buzzes. No messages.

You sat there, frozen in the middle of your living room like a statue. Eyes scanning every corner again. The silence felt heavy and made you feel uneasy. Uncomfortable in your own skin now.

Minutes ticked by, then hours. The next morning came, sunlight creeping through your blinds again.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dress up. Didn’t even glance at your backpack.

Skipping class had been unthinkable before all this. But now, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the apartment.

So you stayed. Curled on the couch, laptop open, staring blankly at a half-written assignment or mindlessly scrolling through social media.

Your brain wouldn't stop, looping and spiralling endlessly.

The buzz cut through the silence, loud in your quiet apartment. Your stomach dropped. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table.

Unknown: You're not in class today, bunny.

Simple observation. No anger, no scolding.

Unknown: You okay, my love?

The butterflies returned, stupid, traitorous things. That sent warmth spiraling through your chest.

Not demanding. Just asking. Like he genuinely wondered if you were okay. And for a second, just a stupid, fleeting second, you almost wanted to reply honestly.

But then reality crashed back.

You: I can't.

Unknown: I know, my baby.

No pressure. No guilt-tripping. Just understanding, like he got it.

You couldn’t leave. Couldn’t face the outside world right now because of him. Another message came, softer than the rest.

Unknown: It's okay, sweetheart. Take your time.

Simple. Reassuring. Sweet, even. Not mocking, not judging. And somehow, that tiny bit of gentleness made your chest ache even more.

The disgust crept in like a slow poison.

Why did this make you feel something? Why did your stomach flutter when he acted almost kind?

You hated it. Hated that part of you, the stupid, weak part, could still respond to him at all.

He was terrifying. Invasive. A stalker who scared the hell out of you. And yet here you were, feeling weird about his soft texts.

The afternoon crept by, sunlight shifting across the floor, casting longer shadows as time passed. You didn’t eat. Didn’t move much beyond scrolling mindlessly or refreshing your email.

Your phone stayed silent. No notifications. No buzzes. It should’ve been a relief, but instead, it made everything feel off-balance.

The thought of leaving made your stomach twist, but hunger won out.

You couldn’t stay locked in forever. No food. No supplies. Your fridge was empty, and even instant ramen had run out hours ago. Reluctantly, you grabbed a hoodie, pulled the hood up, and slipped on sneakers.

You stepped out of your apartment, the door locking behind you with a soft click. The hallway was empty. No one around.

But the second you hit the stairwell, your heart started pounding again.

Every footstep echoed. Every shadow seemed to move. Was someone watching from an upper floor?

You zipped through the store like a blur, no browsing, no looking at prices.

Just straight to the ramen aisle. Grabbed every flavor you could see: three packs, five, it didn’t matter. Threw them into your cart.

No snacks. No fruit. Just food that required boiling water. Checked out in under two minutes and bolted back toward your dorm.

You stepped into the house panicking; the door swung open, and there he was. A figure. Standing perfectly still in the middle of your living room. Hoodie pulled low, hands at his sides, face calm, almost serene.

He didn’t move when you saw him.

No sudden lunge. No smile. Just stood there, watching you with those quiet, dark eyes.

The air in the apartment turned thick, like a storm had just walked in and taken up all the space. You were frozen on the threshold. Groceries slipping slightly from your grip.

The bag hit the floor with a soft thud, ramen cups scattering across the hardwood. You didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

Just stared as he began to walk toward you, slow, deliberate steps. Each one echoing in your ears like a drumbeat. Hoodie still up. Face shadowed. Only his mouth and jaw visible, calm, unreadable.

He wasn't rushing.

"H-How did you g-get in?" you stutter out, eyes already lined with tears as panic rose in your chest, breath coming out shallowly.

He stopped just inches from you, close enough that you could feel his warmth through the fabric of his hoodie.

Then, slowly, he reached up. And pulled back the hood.

His face came into full view, honey skin with tiny moles littered across, sharp features, dark eyes that were way too pretty for someone who terrified you so much.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Gentle. Almost tender.

"I have a key." No explanation beyond that.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut.

Riki. Nishimura Riki.

It was fucking Nishimura Riki. The one in your class. The one you'd considered a friend was standing in your living room.

This whole time… it was him.

"R-Riki?" you breathe out, shock lacing every word.

He didn’t flinch at the sound of his name coming from your lips, like hearing it spoken by you was something he’d imagined a thousand times. His dark eyes searched yours- no anger, no guilt, just quiet intensity.

Then, softly, "Yeah."

One syllable. Calm. Like this wasn't strange at all. Like showing up uninvited in your apartment after months of secret surveillance was normal.

"Why a-are you here?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took one small step forward, closing the tiny space between you two. Then another.

Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a scared animal. His hands lifted slightly, not to grab, not to hurt, but like he wanted to touch your face? Hug you?

And then, in that same soft voice, "I missed you." Not angry. Not possessive this time. Just sad. Like he’d been lonely too. His hand rose, slow, hesitant, and brushed your cheek. It was gentle. Too gentle for someone who’d been stalking you like this.

The touch sent a shock through you, not just fear, but something else. Something that confused you to the core. He didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything again. Just stood there, thumb lingering near your jawline, eyes full of something quiet and real.

Then he spoke, voice low, almost fragile, "I know you're scared…" A pause. He swallowed hard, like he was nervous too.

"But I couldn’t stay away anymore." Another breath. "I watch you every day… and it’s not enough."

His eyes flickered down to your lips for half a second, then back up. And suddenly the air felt heavy. Charged.

"W-why are you doing this? W-why me?" you ask, eyes lined with tears now, breathing shakily as you dare to look up at him, rooted in your spot, but you're trembling, heart pounding in your chest with panic

Riki’s expression softened, like your pain physically hurt him. He didn’t reach for you again. Just looked at you, really looked at the tears, the trembling, how terrified you were of him.

Then he answered honestly, "Because I fell in love with you."

No smirk. No lie. Just raw, quiet confession. His voice cracked slightly, like it was something heavy, something that had been eating him alive for months.

And then, "I don't know why… but I couldn't stop watching. Couldn’t stop wanting to be near."

His voice drops to a whisper, tone reverent in a way that sends sparks down your spine as he speaks, "I know everything about you, bunny. Every single detail, all your little tics, your habits, your routine. Everything."

The way he called you "bunny" sent a strange shiver through your body, soft, almost affectionate, but still chilling because it came from him.

"You always sit in the fourth row from the front. You hate being too close, because you have to crane your neck to look at the board."

"You never get your coffee iced because you care too much about your throat and your singing."

"You always have nail polish on because you hate how boring your hands look otherwise."

"You always cover up when you go to the studio because the receptionist always stares at you weirdly."

Each sentence hit like a punch because they weren’t guesses. Weren’t assumptions. They were truths. Intimate, specific details only someone who’d studied you for months could know.

These aren't just things you see in passing. He's learnt you.

The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything he’d said.

He wasn’t just some random stalker now. This was Riki. The sweet boy who bought you coffee. Who let you sleep during project meetings in the studio. Who made you feel safe and comfortable.

And now here he stood, knowing more about you than your own family probably did.

Your heart fluttered because deep down, some stupid part of you was touched.

That he paid this much attention. That he cared about the small things, the details no one else noticed. It shouldn’t have affected you. But it did.

Yet panic still ruled everything. So even as your chest fluttered at his devotion, your hands trembled with terror.

"W-what do you want from me?" you stutter, blinking up at him, tears trailing down your cheek. Riki’s eyes dropped to your tears, watching them fall as if they physically pained him.

For a second, he didn’t speak. Then, softly, so softly it barely sounded like his voice, "I want you."

No conditions. No demands. Just you. All of you. Every part. He knows all your flaws, all your shortcomings, and yet, he still wants you. He reached up again and caught one of your falling tears with his thumb.

The world narrowed to just his touch, his thumb brushing your cheek, warm and careful, like you were something fragile. Precious.

And suddenly, the flutters made sense. Not because of what he’d done, but because of how he felt. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked down at you with complete reverence. Like he'd worship the ground you walk on.

He loved you so completely it had twisted him. So intensely that watching wasn't enough; he had to be here now. To see you up close.

And despite everything, your heart stuttered anyway.

You couldn't surrender to this yet, not unless you knew you wouldn't get hurt trying. "You scared me... that day in the library. At the bus stop," you say quietly.

Riki’s face changed the second you mentioned it. He shook his head slowly, voice low and urgent, "That wasn't me."

He’d lost track of you that day. Got separated by crowds after your apartment. Panicked because he didn’t know where you went. So he ran to campus, and the library was an educated guess that turned out to be right.

"That....wasn't you? I-I thought y-you followed me to t-the library after....I-I talked to you in the l-library that day....." All the pieces were slowly falling into place in your mind, frantic now, words spilling out, stuttered, breath shaky.

Riki listened quietly, letting you piece it all together on your own. Because yes, he’d been sitting right in front of you that day. He was the guy at the library table. While chatting about collabs, he'd texted from an unknown number. Right there.

Riki watched your face, the way your eyes widened, the way you were connecting everything.

You pause for a moment, mind reeling. And suddenly, you're chuckling, quietly, bitterly, like you've figured out a truth that could ruin you: "You know w-what the worst part is...." you begin quietly, "I fucking liked it..."

Riki’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected that.

For a second, his eyes, always so calm, so controlled, widened just slightly. Like your confession punched the air out of him.

You liked it. The messages. The attention. The way he paid attention to every detail about you, even if it came from something twisted.*

And now here you were, admitting it with a bitter laugh, like you hated yourself for feeling that way.

"Maybe I-I'm just as fucked up as y-you are, but I liked it...."

Riki’s expression changed completely.

The quiet reverence, replaced by something raw, something hopeful. His lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what you just said. For the first time since he walked into your apartment, his hands twitched, like he wanted to grab you and pull you close.

You sigh, finally accepting the bitter and ugly truth. You blink up at him, tracing the familiar lines of his face, before admitting softly, "Maybe we're just two fucked up people meant for each other."

The words hung in the air, quiet, heavy, but somehow right. Riki didn’t speak.

He just stared at you, eyes dark, intense, full of something overwhelming. Then, slowly, a real smile formed on his face. Not his usual polite one. This was different. Genuine. Happy.

And before either of you could overthink it, before fear or guilt could creep back in, he closed the distance. His hands came up gently, one cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away a stray tear, as he kissed you like it was sacred.

Your body freezes for a moment, still caught up in the fear. But you give in eventually, and the kiss deepens slowly, but still gently. Riki wasn’t rushing. He was savoring it, the feel of your lips, the warmth of your breath mixing with his.

And you? You didn’t pull away.

Instead, despite everything, the fear, the guilt over liking this, you kissed him back. You pull away, panting, still shaking from nerves as you stutter, "N-no more of this, p-please...."

Riki pulled back instantly, no hesitation, no argument. His hands dropped from your face. He took a small step backward, giving you space.

And in his eyes, there was no anger. No resistance. Just understanding. You were scared. Shaken.

"Y-you have to p-promise me, Riki. No more u-unknown messages, no more f-fucking following me, n-none of that...."

He nodded slowly, and then, voice quiet but clear, "I promise." Full surrender to your terms. He meant it.

"N-no more...." you say quietly, exhaustion weighing on you now. Your shoulders sagged. Eyes tired, your cheeks still damp from tears. The emotional weight of everything- the fear, the realization, the kiss- it all crashed at once. You slumped back against the wood of your door, sliding down to the floor.

Riki watched you slide down the door, exhaustion hitting you like a wave, and without a word, he followed your movement. Kneeling in front of you on his knees right there on your living room floor.

"No more.....please...." you whisper, muttering half asleep.

Then, carefully, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug.

Riki held you tighter as your whisper hit his chest. Whatever it took, he’d end it all if this was what kept you safe, kept you with him. He didn’t speak. Just pressed his lips gently to the top of your head, a soft, quiet kiss, and then rested his chin there.

"Please don't make me regret this....."

Riki’s arms tightened around you, as if your words physically hurt him. He pressed his forehead to the side of your head, breathing in deeply like he was memorizing this moment.

Then, voice barely above a whisper, so soft it trembled, "I won't." He knew what this meant. Knew how fragile you were right now, and that one wrong move could ruin everything.

Your eyes flutter shut, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Riki lifted you effortlessly, his arms strong under your knees and back.

You were too tired to protest, barely conscious as exhaustion pulled you under. Your head lolled slightly against his shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He carried you down the hallway like something precious, every step quiet, careful not to wake or jostle you.

Then he pushed open your bedroom door, dim light spilling in from the window, and gently laid you on top of your bed. You blinked at him, eyes lidded with tiredness, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

All you know now is that you're trapped in his gaze. And maybe you're just as fucked in the head as he is, but you like how you're never going to be free.

face sitting/riding, attempted 69-ing, fingering, unprotected sex, handjob, creampie, messy pussy eating (twice), squirting, ass slapping, doggy style, passionate sex, crying. (the smut is really just a bonus)

This is not a good look. Walking down the fourth floor hallway of the honors housing building barefoot with your tiny dress and your heels in your hand is definitely not a good look. You’re pretty sure the honors students are not impressed to see you in such little clothing on this bright Saturday morning but you can’t even bring yourself to give a damn. Your face is twisted into a scowl so severe that one guy carrying a basket of clothes actually steps aside to let you pass, your hair is still messy from last night and yesterday's mascara is faintly smudged beneath your eyes.

Saturday mornings on campus are always strange, especially in Jace's building, the residents here think they're so self righteous cause they've probably already gone for a jog, written three essays and finished a research paper and it's not even nine yet.

You can barely register any of it because you're too busy replaying last night in your head for the hundredth miserable time. The Friday night date you had been looking forward to had started out badly and ended up even worse, the guy, whose name you're sure your brain will repress, spent twenty minutes talking about cryptocurrency. And if that wasn't enough, when the bill came, he leaned back in his chair with this smug little grin and said, "So...am I paying for this just to not take you home after, or what?"

You physically shudder remembering it. God, men are actually sick in the head. Maybe you're actually sick in the head too cause humiliatingly—you followed him and now that the sun is out and you can think clearly you know it was just your horniness that drove you to such a terrible decision.

It had been weeks, maybe even months since you'd been in with anyone and after two drinks and one existential crisis in the restaurant bathroom mirror, you'd convinced yourself maybe the mediocre man deserved a chance.

What a mistake.

You feel irritation surge through your body all over again and by now you've reached Jace's door. Not even bothering to knock, you shove it open dramatically. "Jace, I swear to God I think it's finally time for me to try celibacy."

Jace is sat up in his bed in gray sweatpants and a compression shirt, glasses sliding down his nose as he looks up from his laptop to blink at you slowly. "Mmm? Why?"

You kick the door shut behind you, "Cause men are the worst and I'm tired of kissing so many frogs just because I want a prince!"

"Tell me more."

He says softly and sets his laptop aside as you dramatically throw yourself onto the end of his bed with a groan loud enough to let him know you're genuinely upset. You stare at the ceiling before you start ranting again. "First of all, he had the personality of a plastic spork and I'm not even joking, the conversation was so bad, like a solid three out of ten."

"This man," you continue, pointing accusingly at absolutely nothing, "had the audacity to insinuate that he would only pay for dinner if I was going home with him!"

Jace's eyebrows immediately pull together. "What? That's so messed up."

"Exactly." You sigh before sitting up abruptly again. "He said it like he thought it was charming and sexy too. Like I was supposed to giggle and throw my panties at him across the table."

You watch as Jace grimaces at your words, "Please tell me you didn't stay after he said that?"

Damn. How do you tell your best friend that not only did you stay you actually went home with this guy and had sex with him? If you could call that sex. "I was very horny, okay? I'm literally ovulating and I thought ugh maybe the sex could be good?" Yeah, that works.

"Oh come on, Y/n. You're better than that." He seems so disappointed in you that you have to try to ignore the fact that he even let the conversation get this far.

"And not to add to your disappointment but the sex absolutely sucked. Just added a body to my count and that brings me to a whoppingggg...two." You say and start giggling to yourself.

Jace lets out the most disbelieving laugh imaginable. "Oh my God."

"It was so bad, Jace. Like genuinely horrible. I've had more chemistry with self checkout machines." You’re glad that manages to get a startled laugh out of him. "He kept asking me if I liked that every three seconds."

If you'd just slow down to take a look at your best friend's face, you'd see a smirk you'd never seen before but of course you don't cause you're so mad at the whole situation, more at yourself too. "And then when I tried to like guide him a little?" You gesture wildly. "He got defensive."

"Hmm, defensive how?" He asks, eyeing you weirdly now. "Defensive like when I tried to guide his fingers to my actual clit he—"

Your words are cut off by the door swinging open and your irritation immediately flares at the sight of who is standing in the doorway, shifting your gaze back to the twin on the bed, you let out a groan of annoyance. "Seriously, Jake? Can you give us five minutes of peace?" you mutter, rolling your eyes toward the doorway, expecting to see Jace's twin brother hovering there with his usual grating smirk.

But instead the room just goes dead silent and curiosity forces you to actually look at the person standing in the threshold. You rake your eyes over him, ready to snap some insult about him intruding on your conversation but the words die in your throat. Because why is he standing there so confused and wearing his brother's clothes and carrying his textbooks?

Why is the custom silver bag chain you had to hunt down for Jace's birthday hanging from Jake's bag?

Your stomach drops in a sickening free fall sensation. If that's Jace...then who the hell are you sitting next to?

"What are you even talking about?" the twin standing in the door asks, his voice threaded with a weary frustration. He looks between you and the bed, his brow furrowing deeper. "Jake, I told you—I don't know how many times I have to say this—stay the hell out of my room when I'm not here. Why are you even here?"

You slowly turn your head to look at the person sitting on the bed and he's already watching you, his gaze no longer just amused, it's now sharp and terrifyingly aware of the fact that you have just realized exactly who he is. He's also completely dropped the persona of his brother he'd been carrying, there's something in the way his eyes can go from earnest and sweet just like his brothers to predatory so quickly.

This isn't the first time, maybe that's why you feel the sting that makes your vision blur with heat so quickly. Jake has made a sport of this, a twisted game of shadows where he slips into his brother's life just to see how long it takes for you to figure it out. But your anger isn't just directed at him this time around, it's the way he makes you feel so stupid you can't stand. You've known Jace for years, he's your best friend and yet you just laid your entire sexual history bare to a predator in a compression shirt because he mirrored an earnest tilt of the head and a quiet "Tell me more."

Jace lets out a breath that sounds more like a groan, "Jake," he says in a frustrated but practiced tone. "Get off my bed. Now."

Jake doesn't move immediately, still lingering in the dip of the mattress and watching the way your chest pants with outraged breaths. Only when Jace takes a step further into the room does Jake finally rise, moving with an infuriating lack of urgency and stretching in the mirror. You watch as his muscles pull taut against that borrowed shirt—Jace's shirt.

"Relax, professor. I'm leaving," Jake says, his voice losing the faux earnest quality he'd used to bait you just a moment ago. Now he's just Jake, arrogant and loud Jake. "Mom called. She wanted me to tell you that if you don't call her back by six to confirm for Sunday dinner, she's going to stop by your lab and embarrass you in front of your recluse friends."

"That could have been a text, Jake. A five second text. You didn't need to come here."

Jake tilts his head, a lazy, jagged grin cutting across his face. "I know," he smiles wider, the amusement dancing in his tone. "But where's the fun in a text? I prefer the personal touch."

He begins to move toward the door, his shoulder intentionally brushing yours as he attempts to pass. But then he stops and leans in, letting the heat radiate off his skin in a way that makes you want to scramble backward but you're pinned by the stupid audacity of his proximity.

His lips hover inches from the shell of your ear, dropping his voice into a low volume that Jace couldn't possibly catch over the sound of his own frustrated rustling.

"For what it's worth, baby doll," he breathes, "I could definitely get you off. And I promise you wouldn't have to show me where anything was. I'd find it just fine on my own."

You immediately recoil as if he's physically burned you, it’s like a violent shudder of disgust racks your frame. He doesn't even wait for your slap him or scream at him, he thinks the chuckle that lets out is enough and with that he walks out of the door, leaving the air behind him feeling way too overcharged.

You remain sat on the bed as your heart hammers unevenly against your ribs. Across the room, Jace is already moving, you notice his hands trembling slightly while he tries to set his textbooks down with a finality that suggests he's trying to ground himself.

It is a familiar but such an exhausting dance.

You and the Sim twins have been in each other’s lives since before you could even form any memories. Since you were born barely a week apart, you were raised as a collective—like a trio bound by the inseparable bond of your mothers. Your childhood photos are a blur of shared birthday cakes and matching grass stained knees in a suburban neighborhood that felt like it belonged to the three of you alone.

Jake is technically the older one by a mere four minutes, a fact he used to brag when you were younger but the order of birth was rendered irrelevant a long time ago by the overwhelming difference in their personalities. Jake has always been some kind of force of nature, you found him childish even back then, to you he vibrated with a restless energy that left everyone exhausted in his wake. By the time you were sixteen, the neighborhood had already collectively decided that Jace was the older one because he was the one who carried all the responsibility, the one who navigated the world with a quiet dignity while Jake was busy being a headache to his parents.

Now they have become the very definition of a cliché, they are two halves of a whole that refuse to touch. It's why Jace occupies this sterile sanctuary in the honors housing, where he’s surrounded by the scent of old ink and high expectations while Jake is deep in the trenches of his frat house across campus.

"I'm sorry," Jace says, his voice finally breaking the heavy silence. "I should have changed the code to the door. I told him last time he crashed here."

You swallow hard on the bile still sitting at the base of your throat. "Ugh, he’ll literally never change, he’s just the worst. He sat there and pretended to be you and listened to me talk about my date from last night!" You raise your voice but the genuine guilt on the familiar lines of Jace’s features makes the anger in your chest soften into a dull flickering. It's the same face you've turned to for comfort for two decades and yet for a fleeting moment on that bed, you still hadn't been able to tell the difference.

"What did he say to you?" Jace asks, his tone cautious as if he's afraid the answer will scare him. "At the end. Before he left."

You wave a hand dismissively like you’re trying to physically swat away the lingering vibration of Jake's voice in the room. "Nothing. Just him being the typical douchebag he's been since forever," you mutter, though the heat still throbbing in your neck tells a different story.

You've spent the better part of a decade perfecting the art of hating Jake Sim and by now it’s a necessary armor, a defense mechanism against the wild gravitational pull he exerts on everyone around him. But as you look at Jace, you're hit with the stinging irony of your own history.

Irony because before the hatred came, all you had for Jake was love. At six years old you were convinced you’d be marrying him and had scrawled Mrs. Jake Sim in the margins of your coloring books with a confidence that only a child can muster, fully believing that life would eventually find you in a white dress and a life spent chasing him.

That was, until the day he decided to bless you with your earliest and most vivid memory of him. You can still see him standing in the driveway of his family home, gap toothed with devilish grin on his face as he looked you dead in the eye and delivered a piece of information that shattered your world.

"You know you were supposed to have a twin too," he had said, his voice flat and terrifyingly casual for a six year old. "But you got so hungry, you ate her in your mommy's belly."

The trauma of that statement had sent you straight into an inconsolable grief that lasted for hours. You had cried until your chest ached, genuinely horrified by the monster Jake had told you that you were. And then, Jace appeared by your side with a half melted watermelon popsicle and a hand on your shoulder. He hadn't laughed at you or teased you, he did sit with you in the grass and told you it wasn't true, effectively choosing your side over his brothers before any of you could even realize what was happening. That was the day the pedestal for Jake crumbled and the one for Jace was built.

You look at Jace, seeing the way his eyebrows are still knit together in that worried arch. "I hate the fact that I still can't tell you two apart when he's playing his little games...it makes me want to scream."

Jace moves closer. "It's not your fault," he says softly while his eyes search yours. "He's spent twenty two years learning how to mimic me just to get under people's skin. Especially yours."

You quickly brush off his statement by bringing up something else. Jake does not get under your skin.

"You know, you really should swing by the apartment from time to time, Jace," you say, clearly trying to shift the focus. "Unless you want Jake and his frat bros to completely take it over. Your parents got it for both of you, after all."

Jace just shakes his head with a look of real burnout crossing his face. "I'd rather not," he admits, taking a seat at his desk. "I can't study with the smell of cheap beer and whatever bullshit he's invited over."

You notice he looks a little distressed, a little distracted even and you know it’s not just because of Jake. "Where were you anyway?" you ask, squinting at him. "You look like you got a B or something."

"I was just grabbing coffee," he says but then he pauses, only to whisper the other half of his sentence. "With Jungwon."

You practically squeal and the bad date along with Jake's creepy comments are momentarily forgotten as you lunge at him, grabbing his arm. "Oh my god! Tell me everything. I need all the details like right now!"

Jace sighs, looking down at his feet. "I don't know. I don't think he's even into guys."

You pull back to give him a look of total disbelief. "Are you kidding? Of course he is! He literally hooked up with Sunghoon—you know, Sunoo's ex? It was a whole thing last semester."

Jace laughs but it sounds a little forced. "That was just a rumor, Y/n. Nobody actually knows if that happened."

"If it was such a rumor, then why would Jungwon want to hang out with you so much...alone?" you counter with a stubborn cross of your arms. "Men don't just hang out that much without a reason."

Jace lets out a real laugh this time, shaking his head at your logic. "He's probably just trying to get closer to you," he says, his eyes fixed on yours for a second too long.

"What? That's ridiculous," you huff. "Who would go through all that effort just for me?"

Jace looks away with a certain smile on his lips as he mumbles under his breath, "You have noooo idea."

"It's not just Jungwon," he continues, his voice sounding small and a little tired. "You don't realize how many guys have pretended to be my friend just this year, hanging out in the lab, offering to help with my notes, only to eventually pivot the conversation to you. They all want to know what you like, if you're single or if I can put in a good word."

You stare at him, feeling a familiar ache in your chest again. While you're busy dealing with mid tier dates and Jake's constant nuisance, Jace is dealing with a different kind of problem.

Your mind drifts back to the summer after freshman year when you were home from college, sitting on the edge of your pool with your feet in the water in the humid night air. You'd always had a hunch, like a quiet feeling that Jace's lack of interest in the girls in your small town wasn't just about all his focus being on his studies. So when he finally told you he was gay, it felt like a missing piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place and you were just glad it only took one semester away from your hometown for him to feel safe enough to realize who he truly was.

But that safety is still such a fragile thing because no one else knows, not their parents and definitely not Jake. Jace is terrified of what their reaction would be, he’s worried that his family's approval, which is something he's worked so hard for with his honors status and exemplary accomplishments would vanish in an instant.

And that’s exactly why every time Jake makes a crude joke about you and Jace being a secret couple or asks if you're finally giving Jace some sugar, you just take it. You let it happen, either rolling your eyes or firing back a witty comment, just letting Jake believe whatever he wants because you’d much rather the world think you're sleeping with your best friend than risk unintentionally outing him before he's ready.

"I have some idea," you say softly, patting the space on his bed next to you so he comes over and sits with you. "But maybe Jungwon is different? Maybe he's the one who actually wants to know about you."

Jace offers a weak but hopeful smile, unfortunately it fades quickly when he speaks again. "Even if he did...what then? I'm not even out out yet, I’m literally pretending to be someone I'm not. It's a lot to ask of someone."

The contrast between them is enough to give you whiplash. It's always been this way and you hate how Jake gets to be the reckless one, living his life at full volume without a single care for the consequences. You can still remember the awkward silence of their hallway back in high school with the sound of girls leaving Jake's room in tears, his trail of broken hearts just another part of his bad boy charm. He's always been free to be exactly who he is, no matter how messy it gets.

And then there's Jace, who is ten times the man his brother is and he stays huddled in his shell, scared to death that being himself will cost him everything. It makes your chest tight with sadness. He's spent his whole life being the reliable twin just to keep the peace while Jake burns the house down and gets a pass for it.

But you don't let yourself linger on the pity for too long, you know Jace hates it when you get that look in your eyes so you shake your head and force a bright grin onto your face.

"Listen, the lit majors are throwing a party tonight," you say, turning to face him with a spark of excitement. "And I'm telling you, it's not like those sweaty, overcrowded frat parties on greek row where your brother hangs out. It's actually always chill from what I’ve heard. You should invite Jungwon. I'll be there the whole time, so you won't be alone."

Jace's eyes go wide and he immediately starts backing up toward his headboard. "No. No way. I can't just...ask him to a party. That's too much."

"Oh, shut up!" you yell, launching yourself off the bed and tackling him onto the mattress. He lets out a startled oof as you scramble to grab his phone from the desk. "Life is all about risks, Jace! You're going to be an old man wondering what if because you were too scared to send a blue bubble?"

"Y/n, give it back!" he pleads, laughing even as he tries to reach his phone first but you're faster, pinning his arm down with your knee and waving the phone triumphantly. "You'll never know if you don't try! Do you want to spend tonight staring at a textbook or staring at him?"

He groans, his face turning a deep shade of red but he finally stops fighting. "Fine! Fine, just give it here. I'll do it."

You hand the phone back with a satisfied smirk and watch over his shoulder as his thumbs hover nervously over the screen. After a long, shaky exhale, he taps the send button. "There," he says, sounding too breathless for someone who just sent a text. "It's sent. If he says no…just pray he doesn’t say no, Y/n."

The next minute is straight up torture. You and Jace kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed shoulder to shoulder, both of your gazes locked onto the dark screen of his phone praying to god Jungwon just replies now. When it finally vibrates, the notification banner pops up—

Jungwon: Sounds like fun, meet there?

You let out a deafening squeal, hauling yourself up on the bed to jump up and down it with enough force to make the springs groan. "Yes! Oh my god, Jace! He said yes!"

Jace stares at the screen having his mouth hanging open in sincere astonishment. "Wait, no way," he whispers, locking and opening his phone again as if he expects the text to disappear. "No way he actually wants to go."

"What do you mean no way?" you say, dropping back down and shaking his shoulder. "Jace, look at yourself. You're literally so hot! You're going to go to that party and give him that good dick." The words are out of your mouth before you can filter them and for a split second, you freeze. You stop jumping and look at him with a dead serious expression. "Wait...are you a top or a bottom?"

Jace's face turns to a beautiful red and he buries his face in his hands, letting out a muffled, embarrassed groan. "I don't know! God, Y/n, let me actually kiss a guy first before I have to figure all that out!"

He starts to laugh, the tension finally breaking as he sits on the bed and leans back on his elbows. He looks at you with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes that is usually reserved for his brother. "You know, if you think I'm so hot, that means you also think Jake is hot."

The way your smile instantly vanishes is almost comical, you scowl at him. "No. Absolutely not. That is completely different."

"How?" Jace asks, grinning now because he knows he's got you. "We're identical, remember? Same face, same hair, same everything."

"That doesn't matter," you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. "Being hot also involves having a personality and yours doesn't make me want to walk into oncoming traffic. Jake's does."

Jace laughs so hard, he's clutching his stomach and falling back onto the bed. "Hmmm, you didn't think that when you were six though," he teases, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I remember you specifically calling yourself Mrs. Jake Sim over and over, just so nobody would accidentally think you were talking about me."

"Shut up!" you yell and grab a small paperback from his nightstand to chuck at his head. He ducks just in time and the book thudding harmlessly against the wall. "I told you that in confidence, you jerk!"

Your fake anger fades quickly because you feel determined to help your best friend. "Okay, enough of that. We need a game plan," you say standing up and heading straight for his closet. "By the end of tonight, I want you tongue deep in Jungwon's mouth."

Jace winces at your words and a bashful look crossing his face. "Could you maybe...not put it like that? Please?"

Ignoring his plea, you start flicking through his hangers, tossing aside his more boring, oversized sweaters. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. You need to look like the honors student of his dreams but you know? Approachable."

As you sift through a row of button downs, you look over your shoulder at him. "So, what is it anyway? What do you actually like about Jungwon?"

Jace quietens down and you can almost sense his expression softening into something genuine and vulnerable without even looking at him again. You can bet he's staring at his hands. "He's just...he's really observant," he says softly. "Most people just see the smart twin or the quiet one but when Jungwon talks to me, it's so different. You know he didn't even know I was a twin? He makes me feel like I'm actually being seen for who I am, not just what I am."

You stop moving just to coo at him. "Awwww Jacieee, that is literally the sweetest thing I've ever heard. Okay, now I'm even more committed. We are finding you the perfect outfit."

‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒⊹

The rooftop of the english building is alive with low indie music and the soft glow of string lights but Jace is currently vibrating at a frequency that might actually shatter glass. He is shaking so hard you can feel the tremors coming off him in waves.

"I can't do this," he hisses, his face is slick with a layer of nervous sweat that the cool night air isn't helping. He reaches for the buttons of the jacket you spent twenty minutes picking out, his fingers fumbling. "It's too hot. I'm leaving. I'm going to go home and solve some differential equations."

"Jace, stay still," you whisper, swatting his hands away from his clothes. "You look incredible. Stop trying to undress! Someone will see!"

"Why are you so nervous anyway? You've hung out with him plenty times." You're genuinely trying to understand your best friend.

"Yes! But this is the first time I did the asking!" He whisper yells. "My socks," he groans, leaning in close so only you can hear his crisis. "Y/n, they're soaked. My feet are literally swimming in sweat. It's disgusting. I'm going to slip in my own shoes and fall on him."

You open your mouth to say ew and tell him that is way more information than you needed but the heavy metal door to the rooftop creaks open.

"Oh, you're here?"

Jungwon walks in, looking effortlessly cool in a loose cardigan. He blinks and a small smile forms when he sees the two of you. "Hey, Y/n. It's nice to see you again."

"Hi, Jungwon!" you say in a tone that's a little too bright. You give Jace a sharp shove with your elbow, nearly knocking the wind out of him so he's forced to acknowledge the guy.

"H-hi," he manages but his voice a little higher than usual it makes you want to cringe and coo at the same time—poor Jace.

Jungwon gestures toward the music and the crowd of lit majors. "You guys want to move over there? It's actually not too crowded near the edge."

"Oh! You know what?" You take a dramatic step backward, checking your phone as if you just got a life altering text. "I think I see...my friend? Over there? Yeah, I definitely have to go talk to her. It's a whole thing."

Before Jace can grab your arm and drag you back into his panic, you've already started backing away and as soon as Jungwon turns his back to lead Jace toward the far corner, you catch Jace's wide and comically terrified eyes. You mouth the words calm down with exaggerated lip movements, then proceed to wrap your arms around yourself to make a ridiculous show of making out with the air to remind him what the end goal is even sticking your tongue out at flicking it for good measure.

Jace looks like he wants to die on the spot but he takes a shaky breath and follows Jungwon further into the party.

The second they walk away leaving you standing alone at the door, the adrenaline fades and the reality of your situation finally sets in. You look around the rooftop and realize that while the vibes are great, you don't actually know a single person here. You're the engineering and fanfiction girl in a sea of people debating the symbolism of some nineteenth century poetry.

So to avoid looking like a total loser, you pull out your phone and start scrolling through old texts, pretending to be deeply engaged in a conversation with absolutely no one. You're just about to consider making a break for the exit when a familiar voice cuts through the indie folk music.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You look up and you're instantly relieved to see a familiar face—Sloane, a girl you spent three grueling weeks with last year trying to finish a group project for an elective class.

"Sloane! Hey!" You tuck your phone away, happy to have a human shield. You exchange the usual pleasantries, asking about her classes and how her pet hamster is doing. But then she randomly tilts her head and looking around. "Who did you come with? I didn't think this was really your scene," she asks with a friendly grin.

"I came with Jace," you say, nodding toward the corner where you can just barely see the back of Jace's head near Jungwon.

Sloane's eyes go wide and she beams making her whole face light up. "Really? Oh my god! Jungwon is going to be so excited!"

You feel your heart skip a beat but you lean in anyway cause your internal gossip radar pinging at max volume. "Really? Why?"

"Are you kidding?" Sloane whispers, leaning closer like she's sharing a secret. "Jungwon has had this cute little crush on Jace forever. He's been trying to figure out how to tell him for months but he was worried Jace was way too into his books to notice him."

You let out a loud gasp and grab Sloane by her arm maybe too hard. "Really?! Jace likes Jungwon too! They're literally over there together right now. That's why I'm standing here all by myself—I am the ultimate wingwoman!"

"No way!" Sloane squeals, mirroring your excitement.

In an instant, the two of you have completely abandoned any sense of cool lit major chill and now you're just two girls huddled in the corner of the roof, squealing and gushing over how perfect they are for each other, occasionally peeking over your shoulders to see if any progress is being made.

"Do you know Jace was literally vibrating. I had to tackle him and steal his phone just to get him to send the text. He was convinced Jungwon wouldn't be into him," you laugh, shaking your head as you rest against the rooftop railing.

Sloane cackles and nearly spilling her drink. "Are you serious? I was sitting with Jungwon for at least twenty minutes trying to convince him that his text wasn't too thirsty. He was so worried he sounded like he was trying too hard!"

The coincidence is almost too much to handle and when you both turn your heads at the same time to peek over towards the edge of the roof, you see Jace and Jungwon tucked away in a pair of mismatched lawn chairs in the corner, far away from the thickest part of the crowd.

Jace must have finally stopped sweating through his socks because you catch a glimpse of him saying something with that softly sincere look he gets when he's actually comfortable. Whatever he says absolutely works because Jungwon throws his head back and laughs, the string lights catch the bright spark in his eyes and Jace doesn't look away, it's like he can't, so he just watches him with a hopeful expression that makes your heart swell so much you think it could burst any moment.

"They are going to be the cutest couple on this entire campus," Sloane gushes as she clutches her chest. Then, her expression shifts slightly and she lets out a little sigh mixed with a laugh. "It's so crazy how different Jace is from his twin. I saw Jake at a party last week and...yeah. Night and day."

You immediately roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Tell me about it," you groan as the image of Jake smirking on Jace's bed flashing through your mind. "Living with that guy's ego is like living next to a literal sun. He's exhausting but he's always been a total hazard."

"I heard he got banned from the library for a semester because he yelled out some obscenity his frat bros dared him to," Sloane whispers.

"That sounds like him," you mutter, glancing back at Jace who is still looking at Jungwon like he's the only person on the roof. "I honestly don't know how they share dna. Jace has the soul of a poet and Jake...Jake has the soul of a frat boy who thinks body spray is a substitute for a shower."

You start praying the topic randomly changes but instead your heat drops straight to your ass at Sloane's next words, "Oh, speak of the devil."

You turn your back to see what she's referring to and there he is, at the makeshift bar. Jake is leaning against a table and deep in conversation with some girl who looks like she's already falling for his usual routine. A wave of nausea hits you because the last thing tonight needs is Jake spotting Jace and Jungwon together, you know he's either going make a scene or find a way to ruin the moment with one of his personal jokes and Jace would probably never recover from the embarrassment.

You feel the panic rising in your chest but when you whip your head back toward the lawn chairs, the corner is empty. Before you can freak out, your phone vibrates in your hand. It's a text from—

Jace: We're heading back to my dorm. I think it's going well? See you later!

You shove the screen in front of Sloane's face and the moment she reads his text, the two of you let out another synchronized squeal. It's the ultimate victory because they left before Jake could see them.

Unfortunately, that squeal acts as a homing beacon for the one person you wanted to avoid. You can practically feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up as his familiar presence closes in and the air suddenly smells like that expensive cologne he uses to hide the fact that he probably hasn't done laundry in weeks. He completely misses the sight of Jace and Jungwon slipping through the rooftop door because his focus entirely on you.

"Well, well," Jake says in a tone that makes your skin crawl, he immediately steps into your space and ignores the way you stiffen. He lets his eyes travel down your outfit with that same look from earlier when you were giving him all the details of your sex life. "That's a very pretty dress, baby doll. What aisle of the candy store did you come from? Cause you look incredibly sweet tonight."

You scowl and let your face twist in disgust at his stupid words. "That is the worst line I have ever heard, Jake. Seriously, stop."

He doesn't even flinch at your rejection because by now your harsh words have no effect on him.

"And hello to you too, Sandra," he says smoothly.

Sloane's smile drops instantly. "It's Sloane, Jake. We had a class together for an entire semester."

Jake just shrugs, completely unbothered by the fact that he doesn't know her name and indirectly embarrassed her. "Sloane, Sandra...both beautiful, just like you. What's the difference?" He counters before turning back to you. "So, where's my boring other half? I figured if you were here, he'd be trailing behind you like a lost puppy."

"He's not here, Jake. And for the record, you are the boring one," you snap and hitch your bag higher on your shoulder. "I'm actually leaving. Why are you even here? Lit majors don't care for people like you."

Even with that, he still manages to smirk and jerk his thumb back at the girl he was talking to by the bar, a girl who is currently watching him with an expectant, slightly dazed look. "Oh, you know me," he says crudely in a way that makes you envision slapping him already. "Figured I'd try out some lit major pussy for the first time. See if they really are as deep as they pretend to be."

He even puts on this fake, wide eyed look and clutches his chest, acting like he's nervous for a big exam or something. "Think I'll pass, baby doll?"

This time, you don't even give him the satisfaction of a verbal comeback but you do give him the most disgusted look you can muster and turn on your heel, heading straight for the rooftop exit. You can hear Sloane saying a quick goodbye behind you but your main goal is putting as much distance between yourself and Jake as possible.

Except, he doesn't stay put or go back to the girl waiting for him at the bar.

"Hold on for a sec."

"Go away, Jake!" you yell over your shoulder as you hit the stairwell.

"Wait up, I'm serious," he says and his footsteps come heavier and faster behind you but you keep moving, clattering down the stairs in your platform slippers, he's incredibly persistent though. And by the time you reach the second floor landing, his tone has shifted. The teasing layer is gone and he's suddenly being weirdly flat and intense. "Y/n, stop. I actually have something important I need to ask you. Just...hold on."

You're able to make it all the way to the ground floor, your hand already on the heavy metal handle of the building's exit. You're ready to burst out into the night air and bolt but Jake is right there, reaching his hand over your head to hold the door shut.

"I'm not joking, listen to—"

You've turned to him to scream for him to leave you alone but you notice his whole body tense up and he stops mid sentence. He's looking through the glass pane of the windows by the door at the shadows of the bike racks just outside.

"What the fuck?" Jake breathes in a deep exhale.

Your heart stops when you look to see what he's looking at because there, under the yellow hum of a streetlamp, Jace has Jungwon pressed back against one of the metal racks, his hands cupping the other boy's face with a desperate type of hunger. They're kissing, scratch that, they're making out and Jace looks more alive than you've ever seen him.

The silence in the stairwell is so consuming as Jake stares at his identical twin with a look of utter shock.

The second the shock wears off and his face hardens into something unreadable, Jake doesn't hesitate, immediately lunging for the door. You scramble after him with your heart lodged in your throat and grab his arm with both hands, trying to anchor him to the spot.

"Jake, stop! Please, just leave them alone!" you plead, your voice cracking as the first sting of tears hits your eyes. "Don't ruin this for him. Just walk away, please."

He doesn't even look at you, jerking his shoulder so rough it shoves you off, you stumble back against the cold brick wall of the stairwell, watching helplessly as he hurls the door open and storms into the night. You're already crying from a mix of terror for Jace and a burning hatred for the man currently charging toward the bike racks.

"Jake, no!" you gasp, rushing out behind him as fast as your slippers will let you but you're too late.

"What the fuck, Jace?!" Jake's voice booms through the quiet courtyard, making Jace and Jungwon spring apart, their breathing heavy and their faces flushed, only for Jace's to go deathly pale the moment he sees his brother standing there. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach, his hands immediately start trembling near Jungwon's shoulders as he stares at his brother.

"Jake..." Jace's voice is barely audible.

"Are you serious right now?" Jake steps closer, his posture aggressive and looming. "You're gay? You've been playing this whole honors student part while you're out here kissing dudes? Lying to our parents?" Jake goes on and on.

"So all those girls you liked but never dated in high school were just cover ups, right?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

You finally reach them and throw yourself between the twins, pressing your hands against Jake's chest to shove him back. "Jake, shut up! Stop it right now!" you sob, willing your vision to stop blurring with tears. "This isn't the time or place. Leave him alone!"

But Jake doesn't budge, he's just a wall of muscle and misplaced anger now, looking over your head to stare directly into his brother's terrified eyes. Jace is frozen, too shocked to even defend himself because his worst nightmare unfolding in the middle of a campus sidewalk while Jungwon stands there, looking back and forth between the identical faces in total confusion.

You really have no idea how Jace will react, what he will say so you're shocked when he laughs but it sounds so bitter. He looks at the brother who shares his exact face but none of his heart and his eyes turn to ice.

"Wow," Jace spits. "You find out your brother is gay and your first instinct isn't to wonder why I was too scared to tell you. It's to accuse me of living a lie because it bruises your pathetic ego."

"You truly are a vile excuse for a human being, Jake. I've spent twenty two years sharing your face and every day I wake up wishing I could tear it off just so I don't have to look like someone so completely devoid of anything decent. You're not my fucking brother. You're just a mistake that happened four minutes before me."

Before Jake can even blink or think of anything to say, Jace grabs Jungwon's hand and pulls him into a run, disappearing into the shadows of the campus buildings.

"Jace! Wait!" You scream in a sob, trying to go after them but your foot catches on the edge of the bike rack and go down hard, scraping the skin right off your knees against the pavement.

The pain is sharp and hot and as you wince, Jake reaches down with shaking hands trying to grab your shoulders. "Shit! Y/n, let me—"

"Don't you fucking touch me!" you shriek, shoving his hands away with enough force to make him stumble. You scramble to your feet, simultaneously ignoring the blood beginning to trickle down your legs.

Blinded by rage and heartbreak for your best friend, you launch yourself at his brother, slamming your palms into his chest. You hit him, slap at his arms in wild movements fueled by a lifetime of suppressed anger. "You want to know why your brother never told you?!" you yell, the sound echoing off the brick walls. "It's because you're a selfish, black hearted asshole!" One of your slaps lands directly on his cheek.

"You're so fucking obsessed with yourself that you couldn't let him have one goddamn second of happiness without making it about your own confusion. You are the reason he's been living in a cage, Jake! He's terrified of you because everything you touch turns to rot and he didn't want you rotting this, too!"

You shove him one last time, your voice dropping to a hiss. "You're like this shadow he's been trying to outrun since we were kids. I hate you. I think I've always hated you."

Jake's face contorts when the words hit his ears, his jaw tightens as he stares at you with a look that's both furious and heartbroken at the same time. "You don't mean that," he growls but his voice cracks. "You're just upset because you're bleeding and tired. You don't actually hate me."

You let out a harsh laugh right in his face, "Oh, I fucking mean it, Jake! I mean every single word. Do you really think anyone loves the real you? People like the idea of you. They like the guy who buys the drinks and throws the parties, the guy who has no problem spending his daddy’s money on them but the second the lights go up and they see the shallow hollow mess underneath, they all run."

You step closer, ignoring the stinging in your knees to look him dead in the eye. "It is honestly fucking ridiculous how much you pride yourself on being the better twin. Look at Jace. He's so kind, so brilliant and so capable of caring about someone other than himself. And you’re just a cheap copy of a much better man."

"Stop it, Y/n," he mutters but you can see his hands shaking at his sides.

"Why should I? It's the truth!" you laugh again. "Isn't it just so crazy? You walk around acting like you're the prize but the only thing actually good about you is the fact that you share half your dna with Jace. Without him to balance you out, you're just a hedonistic frat guy with a pretty face that nobody is going to want to look at in five years. You're nothing, Jake. You're less than nothing."

You turn your back on him and every step is a sharp reminder of the gravel now embedded in your skin. You limp away, the salt from your tears stinging the small cuts in your palm as you wipe your tears. Crying because the secret your best friend spent years protecting was ripped open in the most violent way possible.

Somehow you’re not surprised when Jake gets in his car and starts creeping along the curb beside you.

He rolls the passenger window down. "Y/n, please just get in the car," he calls out to you in a frustrated but also strangely concerned tone. "Your knees are literally dripping blood. Just get in. I'll just drop you off, I swear I won’t say a thing."

"I'd rather get abducted and sold into human trafficking than sit in a confined space with you," you say without even looking at him.

He huffs and actually pulls over to hop out of the car. He tries to reach for your elbow lightly, like he’s afraid you’ll slap him again.

"Come on, you're shaking. You can barely stand. Let me just help you walk? Or at least let me hold you up until we get to the dorms."

You recoil as if his skin is made of fire, nearly losing your balance. "Please don’t touch me, Jake. I’m so tired of you."

He looks at you with wide eyes wide, trying to coax you with that soft, manipulative tone he always uses to get his way. "Baby doll, look at me. I fucked up, okay? I'm an asshole, I’m everything you said and you’re so right about me. But don't hurt yourself more just to spite me. Please."

You ignore him, focusing only on the rhythm of your limp and when he finally gets the hint, he gets back into his car and just drives slowly behind you. The whole twenty minute walk to the honors housing—he’s right behind you, lighting the road with his headlights until the brick facade of the honors housing building comes into view and you limp all the way into it. That’s when he finally floors it, the screech of his tires echoes through the empty street as he speeds off into the night.

The walk up the stairs is a special kind of hell, every step upward pulls at the scabs already forming on your knees and by the time you reach Jace's door, you're lightheaded from the pain but you still knock and wait.

When the door swings open, the sight breaks what's left of your heart. Jace looks absolutely destroyed, his eyes are swollen and bloodshot, his face is an angry red from crying. Behind him, Jungwon is sitting at the desk with his head in his hands, looking so small and upset that he looks like he's on the verge of a breakdown himself.

"Oh, Jace," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

You reach forward and wrap your arms around his middle and pulling him close. He immediately collapses into you, burying his heavy weight into you as he lets out a sob into your shoulder and all you can do is just hold him, whispering apologies over and over into his hair as he finally lets the terror of the night out.

The sound of Jungwon clearing his throat reaches you through the wet sounds of Jace's sobbing. Jace pulls back just enough to look toward the desk, his hands still clutching the sleeves of your cardigan as if he might fall over if he lets go. Jungwon stands up cautiously, with so much quiet sadness in his eyes for the boy who just had his entire world dismantled on a sidewalk.

"I'm going to head out," Jungwon says, his voice steady despite the visible tremor in his hands. He walks over, stepping into the small circle of light near the door and reaches out to gently take one of Jace's hands. "Listen, Jace. I really like you, like…a lot. That hasn't changed because of...anything that happened tonight."

Jace lets out a shaky breath, searching Jungwon's face for any sign of pity or regret but all he finds is only warmth.

"I understand if this is going to slow things down for us," Jungwon continues, stroking the back of Jace's knuckles with his thumb. "I know this is a lot. It's huge. And I'm ready to wait until you have it all figured out with your family and your brother. You don't have to rush into anything for me."

Your heart literally aches in your chest at his words. It feels so unfair that after finally finding someone who sees him for who he truly is, Jace has to put his happiness on hold because of Jake's selfishness. They shouldn't have to wait, they should be allowed to just be two college students enjoying a night out, not navigating a family crisis.

Jungwon leans in then, cupping Jace's tear stained face and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before moving down to his lips. It's a quiet kiss but it’s so full of a promise that isn't going anywhere.

"Please don't cry anymore," Jungwon whispers against his skin. "I'll text you tomorrow, okay? Just breathe."

With one last supportive squeeze of Jace's hand, he gives you a quick hug and slips out the door. The click of the lock seems to echo in the sudden silence of the room and Jace stands there for a moment, staring at the wood of the door, looking smaller and more fragile than you've ever seen him in all the years you've been friends.

The adrenaline that kept you walking through the pain finally vanishes and leaves both of you standing in the middle of the room, with broken hearts and bleeding knees, wondering how everything went so wrong so fast. You sit on the bed and when he follows suit, you immediately reach for his hand.

"I hate him so much," he whispers and you almost catch the words so over the hum of the air conditioner.

He twists his hands together over and over. "I hate that I share his face. I hate that I have to look in the mirror every morning and see the person who just destroyed the only thing that made me feel like I wasn't just a collection of grades and expectations."

When he abruptly turns to face you, his knee bumps yours and you gasp in pain, making him look down. "Oh fuck. Y/n, your knees," he breathes, his own grief momentarily eclipsed by horror. "Did he—Did Jake do that to you?"

"No," you say, your voice cracking as you look down at all the dried blood. "I fell trying to catch up to you. He tried to help, but I wouldn't let him."

Jace pulls himself together enough to stand up and grab his first aid kit from under the bed. He's always prepared like that—the exact opposite of Jake, who probably doesn't even own a band aid. He kneels on the floor, his hands still a little shaky as he begins to gently dab at the gravel and dried blood on your knees with an antiseptic wipe.

"He's going to tell them, isn't he? He's going to tell our parents. He can't keep a secret to save his life, especially not one that makes him feel like he has leverage."

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, trying to provide him with some kind of anchor in the middle of his storm. "If he does, we'll handle it. But Jace, look at what Jungwon said. He's staying. You're not alone in this anymore."

"I really just wanted one thing for myself," Jace sighs, continuing to clean your wounds. "Just one part of my life that wasn't shadowed by him or lived for someone else's approval. And he took it. He took it and he made it ugly."

He takes a cotton ball soaks with some rubbing alcohol. "This is gonna hurt," he murmurs but you can tell he's the one trying to focus.

"Forget that," you say even though you nearly scream when the ball hits your raw skin. "Talk to me about the rooftop. Before the disaster happened...how was it? Tell me everything about you and Jungwon."

Jace pauses with a mew cotton ball in his hand and for a second the devastation in his expression lifts. A shy smile breaks through his tear stained face and he ducks his head, looking down at your knees to hide his expression.

"I really, really like him, Y/n," he admits with a voice that has lost that jagged edge of despair. "He's so easy to talk to. We sat there for an hour just talking about movies and his architecture stuff and it felt like...I don't know, like I didn't even have to filter myself."

"I knew it!" you chirp, trying to keep the mood light. You lean back on your elbows, completely forgetting the throbbing in your legs. "So, come on, give me the details. Who initiated the kiss? Was it you, Mr. risk taker?"

Jace's entire face turns a beautiful shade of pink, the blush spreads all the way to the tips of his ears. "No," he mumbles, carefully placing a large bandage over your right knee. "It was Jungwon but…it wasn't even like it came out of nowhere. I—uh I kind of walked right into it."

"Explain. Now."

He lets out this sheepish laugh as he pulls out another bandage. "He asked me why I was shaking so much, if I was just cold or something. And I meant to say I was just a little overwhelmed, but my brain kinda did this weird thing. I looked at him and said yeah, well, hot guys make me nervous."

You let out a scream, even though Jace groans in embarrassment. "You didn't!"

"I did," he says, hiding his face in his hands for a second. "I realized what I said immediately and wanted to sink into the ground but he just laughed and told me I was plenty hot too, then he just...kissed me. I swear it was the best four minutes of my life, Y/n. Until I heard Jake's voice."

He sighs but the blush is still there like a small flicker of warmth in the middle of a cold night. "At least I know it's real. Jake might’ve ruined the moment but it doesn’t take away the fact that Jungwon called me hot."

Jace's hands go still as he finishes taping the final bandage. The brief smile vanishes as he stares at the floor. "I should probably tell my parents before Jake can get to them. I need to be the one to say it." Jace says quietly.

"You're right," you agree, nodding firmly despite the exhaustion deep in your bones. "He could do it tomorrow when he drives back for that dinner. You just have to get there first. Go before Jake even has a chance to pull into the driveway."

Jace looks up at you with pleading vulnerable eyes. "Will you come with me? Please? I don't think I can stand in that house and face them—or him—alone."

You feel a physical wave of revulsion hit you at the mere thought of being near Jake again. "Jace, I love you," you say. "You know I'd do almost anything for you. But I don't think I can see Jake right now. To be honest, after all the things I said to him tonight? I think I’ll just make things worse. If I see his face, I'm going to start screaming again and that's the last thing you need during a family talk."

Jace sighs and his shoulders slump but he nods in understanding. He knows you're right, the air between you and his twin is currently pure poison.

"I get it," he agrees, rubbing his tired eyes. "I just...I don't know how I'm going to look at him without thinking about how he tried to ruin the best thing that's happened to me in years."

"You won't look at him," you say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You'll look at your parents, you'll tell your truth and then you'll remember that Jungwon is waiting for you back here. Jake is just noise, Jace. Loud, very selfish noise."

Jace rests his heavy head on your thighs, finally letting his muscles relax as you slowly run your fingers through his hair. He lets out a long, shaky sigh that seems to vibrate against your legs, the quiet of the dorm room is finally settling in around you when he suddenly blurts something out.

"It was so hot, Y/n."

You pause your hand in his hair cause you’re startled by the jarring shift in his tone. He's staring at the wall now, even though his head is still in your lap, you can see his face warming in a way that puts his earlier blush to shame.

"I was literally trying so hard not to moan when he grabbed the back of my neck," he confesses, in both awe and embarrassment. "And then... I totally popped a boner. I'm so sure he felt it, too."

A laugh slips out of you but Jace isn't finished, groaning and burying his face deeper into your lap. "The whole time, that comment you made about who was going to be the top or the bottom just kept looping in my head," he mumbles, his voice muffled. "I was standing there thinking—Oh gosh, if things actually get that far tonight, what am I even doing? Am I topping? Am I bottoming?—I didn't even have a plan for that part of the game plan."

"Jace!" you gasp, all delighted that he's finally sharing the scandalous details. "Not the full on identity crisis in the middle of a make out session." You laugh harder.

"I couldn't help it!" he defends himself, peeking up at you with a pout. "I was too focused on not passing out from how good he tasted that when my brain started asking about logistics, my body panicked."

Despite the tragedy of the night, seeing your best friend this flustered over the actual mechanics of his crush makes him feel a little more like the Jace you know—always overthinking everything, including the best kiss of his life.

"Since you were so focused on not passing out...what did he actually taste like?" You ask, giving his hair a playful little tug to pull him out of his spiral,

Jace goes quiet for a second, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he actually takes a moment to process the memory. A foggy look washes over his face and he lets out an almost mortified little laugh before looking back at you.

"Like peaches and cream," he whispers so innocently.

The silence in the room hangs for exactly half a second before you both burst into a fit of laughter, your shoulders shaking so hard it jars your injured knees. "Peaches and cream?!" you shriek, clutching your stomach. "Jace, oh my god. That is the corniest, fanfiction level thing I have ever heard in my life!"

"I'm serious!" he protests, making his face turn an even darker shade of red as he tries to hide his smile. "He had this lip balm on or maybe it was his drink, I don't know! It was sweet and soft and that's just what came to mind."

"You are such a hopeless romantic," you tease, wiping a stray tear of laughter from your eye. "Peaches and cream. Next, you're going to tell me his eyes were shimmering like the morning dew or something."

"Shut up," he makes like he’s going to hit your knee before shoving his face back into your lap to hide his grin. "I can't help it if the guy tastes like a dessert."

"A dessert you wanna devour," you tease making him shake his head from side to side like he’s trying to shake out the image you’ve put in his head.

As you sit there stroking Jace's hair, his comments fade into the background of your mind and a bitter taste of old memories take their place. This isn't the first time Jake has taken a moment of joy and turned it into something horrible. He's been a horrible person since you've known him, always needing to be the loudest and cruelest person in the room.

Your mind drifts back to junior prom. Jace had asked you to be his date, promising and swearing on heaven and earth that it wasn’t out of pity but because you were best friends and he genuinely wanted to spend the night with you. At the time, your skin was a constant map of acne and your mouth was a mess of metal braces. You felt like a project, instead of a princess but your mom had found a soft, shimmering baby pink dress that made you feel almost pretty and Jace had carefully pinned a corsage to your wrist that matched the fabric perfectly.

The three of you were standing in the foyer of the Sim house, their mom was fussing with a camera and beaming about how handsome her boys looked and how lovely you were. Jace was smiling at you, making you feel like an actual princess, like you actually belonged in a ballroom.

Then Jake opened his mouth, you remember how he leaned against the banister and looked you up and down with a sneer that almost made you start shaking. "Wow, mom," he'd dragged out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I didn't know the local zoo was doing a shave the sheep fundraiser tonight. Is that why she's wearing so much glitter? To distract us from the fact that her dress is holding on for dear life? Honestly, Jace, I know you're the charitable twin but taking the before picture to prom is a new low even for you."

You remember how the room had gone deathly silent, Mrs Sim had gasped and Jace had immediately started shouting at his brother but the damage was done. Every time you looked in the mirror after the dance, all you saw was the before picture. Your confidence had plummeted drastically after that, if Jake thought he’d just ruined your night, he was wrong cause he’d managed to ruin your body image perception for years. All because he couldn't stand to see someone else—especially his boring brother—being happy.

Looking down at Jace now, you realize he's been fighting the same monster his whole life. Jake doesn't just ruin nights—he ruins the people themselves.

The memory of that night still leaves a sour feeling in the pit of your stomach, even years later. Mrs Sim hadn't let it slide though, the second those words left Jake's mouth, her face had turned a shade of red that rivaled your own blush and she had immediately grounded him for the next month, stripping away his car keys right there in the foyer. But the discipline didn't matter to you then because the sting of his words had already sunk in too deep.

Jace had been so patient with you that night, his hands hovering near your shoulders as you stood by the front door with tears threatening to spill over. "Please, Y/n, don't cry," he had begged, his voice soft and desperate. He wasn't being dismissive, he was trying to save the one thing he knew you'd spent hours on. "If you start now, it'll ruin your makeup and you looked so happy when you finished it. Don't let him take that away from you. You look so beautiful, I swear it."

He had spent the next twenty minutes distracting you with stupid jokes until your breathing finally evened out, showing the same kind of protective loyalty he still shows today. It's a pattern you recognize now—Jace spending his life trying to patch up the holes Jake rips into people. You continue to rub your hand through his hair, realizing that while your appearance has changed a lot since that prom, the dynamic between the three of you hasn't shifted an inch. Jake is still the wrecking ball and Jace is still the one left standing in the debris with you.

The rest of the weekend felt like a heart wrenching countdown, you hadn't even bothered going back to your own room that Friday night, crashing on Jace's bed right next to him seemed like the appropriate thing to do, the two of you talked in exhausted murmurs until the early hours of the morning.

When his alarm went off at exactly six in the morning, the room was still gray and Jace was a ghost of himself, pale and agonizingly silent as he threw a few things into his duffel bag. He had to beat Jake and be the one to set the narrative before his brother could twist it into something ugly. You watched from the window as his car pulled out of the lot and his taillights disappeared into the morning mist, then you spent the next three hours pacing your own dorm room, completely unable to sit still.

Then when your phone buzzed with a video call request from Jace, you swiped with a shaky hand to see him sitting at his parent's kitchen table. The camera was propped up against a fruit bowl or something, giving you a clear view of both him and his parents even though he was a little cut off, you could tell they were concerned but trying to keep calm. Jace's face was a mess, his eyes were already rimmed with red and his hands were shaking so violently on the tabletop that he had to clasp them together.

"Mom...Dad..." His voice was a thin thread that threatened to snap at any second. "I...I have to tell you something. I've been...so scared to say it because I didn't want anything to change but I can't keep it inside anymore. I'm...I'm gay."

The silence on the other end of the line felt like it lasted a century, it lasted so long that Jace let out a sob that sounded like he was choking and dropping his head as he waited for the blow to fall, like he was waiting for his life to officially be over.

But that never came.

You saw his mother immediately stand up and move around the table, she gathered her son's head against her chest, stroking his hair exactly the way you had the night before.

"Oh, my sweet sweet boy," she whispered, her own voice thick with emotion. "I knew. We always knew. We were just waiting for you to be ready to tell us."

Jace's dad leaned forward, his expression soft and pained. "Jaejun, why were you so scared? Did you really think we wouldn't love you the same? Why did you carry this for so long by yourself?"

"I didn't want to be another issue for you guys," Jace sobbed into his mother's apron. "With everything Jake does...I just wanted to be the perfect son. I didn't want to disappoint you."

Hearing that confession broke something inside you all over again as you sat on the edge of your bed with tears streaming down your face in silent solidarity. The relief was like a physical weight lifting off your chest—Jace was finally safe, he was finally his true self in the one place he had always felt he had to perform.

His mother looked up and finally noticed your face on the screen. "Oh Y/n, my love. Is that you?" she asked with a watery smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Sim," you managed to say, wiping your eyes and waving weakly. "I'm so happy for him."

"We are too, dear," she said. "Thank you for looking after him."

Jace pulled back and wiped his nose with his sleeve before giving you a look of nothing but gratitude. "I'll call you when I get back to campus tonight," he whispered. "I love you, Y/n."

"Love you too, Jace. Go be with them."

The call ended and you were left in your suddenly very quiet room, you spent the rest of your Sunday buried in your textbooks, the words had finally started to make sense now that the static of Jace's secret was gone. For the first time in a long time, the world felt like it was exactly where it was supposed to be.

Things fell back into place barely two days after that and by Wednesday afternoon when you’re sat at a table with Jace and Jungwon in the dining hall, they’re pretty much in their own bubble, leaning so close to each other that their shoulders are pinned together. Jungwon is whispering something into Jace's ear that makes Jace duck his head and actually giggle.

"Okay, look," you say, propping your chin on your hand and giving them a fake disgusted look. "You guys are adorable, really. It's sickening. But can you please stop rubbing your new love in my face while I'm trying to eat this subpar pasta? My eyes are bleeding."

Jungwon laughs and you watch his eyes crinkle at the corners but he does lean back, finally giving Jace some breathing room. "Honestly, Y/n, I really can't understand how you're still single. I've sat in the library and heard guys talking about how gorgeous you are. You could have your pick of anyone on campus."

Jace turns to Jungwon with a teasing smirk on his face. "Oh, don't let her fool you. She's a hopeless romantic but she has these impossibly high standards, which she should obviously but the second a guy trips up or shows a hint of a red flag, she cuts them off immediately. Total ghost protocol."

"Hey, it's not my fault most guys just want to fuck anyway," you add with a shrug, making them both laugh. "I'm not interested in being someone's weekend project."

You're all laughing, it really feels like the vibes finally light and normal again but that’s when you catch a glimpse of someone standing a few feet behind Jace and your smile falters.

It's Jake.

It's the first time you've seen him since that night and for a moment, you don't even recognize him. The cocky, golden boy glow is completely gone and he looks like a total mess, wearing a wrinkled and stained hoodie with his hair is unwashed and even from here, you swear you can see the heavy bags under his eyes. He's also very pale, in a way that actually unnerves you and his eyes look bloodshot and sunken. A small flicker of worry pricks at your chest but you’re quick to brush it off, reminding yourself of how he acted just a few days ago.

When your eyes catch his and he realizes you've spotted him, he doesn't smirk or offer some rude catcall. He just walks up to the table with his eyes entirely set on Jace, not even bothering to look at you or Jungwon.

"Jace," he says in a voice that’s devoid of its usual bravado. "Can we talk? Just real quick. Somewhere else."

Jace stiffens and his hand instinctively reaches for Jungwon's under the table. "Why couldn't you just call me, Jake? Or wait until I was at the dorm?"

Jake lets out a breath that sounds more like a wheeze. "I've been texting you for days, Jace. You haven't responded once. I...I really need to talk to you."

The lack of an argument or a snarky comeback is the most alarming part and it hits you like whiplash. Jace looks at you, then at Jungwon before letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine. Five minutes."

He stands up and follows Jake towards a far corner of the dining hall, where there are less people. You watch their retreating backs, noting how Jace's is rigid and very defensive while Jake's is slumped and almost defeated. Even though the villain of the story looks like he's finally been defeated, you can't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something is and feels very, very wrong.

Jungwon notices the way you're staring in the direction they’re in with your fork hovering aimlessly over your plate and he reaches over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, don't overthink it. It's probably just sibling stuff. They probably just need to yell at each other for a few minutes and get it out of their systems."

You nod slowly, trying to force the image of Jake's red eyes out of your mind. "Yeah. You're right. It's just...Jake didn't even look like Jake."

"Let’s focus on something else," Jungwon says, effortlessly pivoting the conversation. "Sloane's birthday is this weekend, remember? She's doing this big dinner on Friday and then after that, all the girls are heading to that club downtown. She really wants you there but she realized she lost your number after that project ended. She told me to make sure you were coming."

The mention of a night out with Sloane and some girls is exactly the distraction you need. You immediately beam as your excitement bubbling up. "Oh, I am so there! I haven't been out in forever. I need a reason to wear something sexy."

"I figured," Jungwon grins, sliding his phone across the table toward you. "Here, take her number and text her so she can add you to the group chat or something. She's already planning the pre game."

As you're typing the digits into your phone, you start to hear Jace’s footsteps as he makes his way back to the table looking very annoyed—his jaw is set tight and he's shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"Everything okay?" Jungwon asks softly.

Jace just nods and drops back into his seat with a heavy thud. "Fine. Just Jake being Jake," he says but the words feel like he practiced them for you. He picks up his water glass but he doesn't drink and he starts looking at you and it’s not in his usual just admiring you way. It’s a weird and searching look, even a little hesitant but it makes the hair in your arms stand up. He keeps glancing at you, then quickly looking away the second you catch his eye, then looking back again.

"Jace?" you finally ask, setting your phone down. "What's wrong? You're looking at me like I've got a third head. Did Jake say something?"

Jace blinks, tearing his eyes away from you so fast he nearly knocks over his water glass. "No," he insists too hastily like he doesn’t even want you to think of Jake saying anything that would matter. "Seriously, it's nothing. Just Jake being a dramatic idiot as usual."

Before you can press him on it, he turns sharply to Jungwon, his knuckles whitening as he grips his fork. "Did you...did you tell her about Sloane's birthday yet? The dinner this Friday?"

"Yeah, just did," Jungwon replies, looking between the two of you with a curious lift of his brow. "She's already getting Sloane's number from my phone."

"Good. That's good," Jace murmurs, nodding rapidly. "You should definitely go, Y/n. You need a fun night out."

The knot in your stomach tightens again. You know Jace is usually a terrible liar but right now he seems to be vibrating with whatever secret Jake just dropped in his lap. The way he keeps avoiding your eyes feels heavy and almost protective, like he's trying to shield you from something.

Jungwon seems to want to ease the awkwardness settling over the table, he shifts in his seat and attempts to break the tension. "Hey, I just noticed," he says with a warm smile as he points a finger toward your collarbone. "You always have that gold necklace on every time I see you. It's really beautiful, Y/n."

You’re a little caught off guard by the sudden redirection but your posture soon relaxes and you beam, your fingers flying up to habitually trace the delicate gold charm resting warm against your skin. "Oh, thank you! Jace actually got it for me a while back."

Beside him, Jace cocks his head and his brow furrowing in blank confusion as he stares down at the jewelry. "I did? When?"

You let out a loud scoff before rolling your eyes dramatically at him. "Are you serious right now? You don't even remember? Wow, your memory is horrific, Jace. I literally wear it almost every single day."

It was the morning of your eighteenth birthday, it was also the bittersweet summer just before you all packed up to start college. You had woken up to a house smelling like your favorite pancakes but when you went back to your bedroom to change, you found it sitting right there on your unmade bed. A small box wrapped in deep red velvet and propped up against it was a cream colored card. There was no grand speech or birthday essay, just three words written in a hurried script—From J. Happy 18th.

When you snapped the velvet box open, the delicate gold chain had caught the morning sunlight and gleamed perfectly against the white satin lining. You had figured back then that he was just too shy to give it to you in person or maybe he didn't want to make a massive deal out of it in front of your family and friends. It was so classic Jace, so thoughtful and entirely lowkey. 

You shake your head, laughing it off as you snap back to the present, giving him a playful pout. "Anyway, since you clearly have the memory of a goldfish, let’s just move on, I'm definitely going to Sloane's birthday dinner."

You’ve already decided to let it all go, if Jace wanted you to know about Jake, he'd tell you.

"And you two better not ruin my vibe by being all attached at the hip if you come to the pre game."

Jungwon scoffs playfully, shoving Jace's shoulder. "Hey, I can be independent! Jace is the clingy one."

"I am not!" Jace protests, his cheeks flushing as he finally lets out a real laugh.

Just like that, the heavy shadow Jake left behind begins to dissipate again, melting back into the comforting clatter of the dining hall. You fall back into your breezy conversation, arguing over who has the worst taste in music and planning what you're going to wear on Friday night and willfully ignoring the sinking feeling that the other shoe is just about to drop.

Friday came quicker than you anticipated, probably because after the unsettling tension of Wednesday afternoon, the rest of the week had crashes into a montage of lectures and late night studying. But now it was the night of Sloane's birthday dinner and your dorm room looked a mess from you digging through your closet.

Meanwhile, your bed had been completely hijacked. With your back turned to the room as you desperately rifled through your closet, you could hear the unmistakable sounds of Jace and Jungwon behind you. The rustle of sheets mixed with soft murmurs and the distinct, wet smacking of their lips as they kissed. It was like they physically could not keep their hands off each other for more than thirty seconds.

"I love that you guys are happy but I am begging you to stop procreating on my comforter while I'm in the middle of a crisis," you groaned, throwing another hanger onto the floor in defeat.

You officially gave up, so in a dramatic display of frustration, you threw your hands in the air and let your body collapse backward, laying flat on the cold floor in just your bra and panties.

"I'm not going," you announced to the ceiling before letting out a miserable groan. "I can't find a single thing to wear. You guys should just leave without me, go have fun and let me rot in peace."

From the bed, Jungwon let out a loud laugh. You heard him sit up from between Jace’s legs and when you rolled your head over to look at them, he was leaning on his elbows, staring down at you on the floor.

"I know I said this before," Jungwon said, shaking his head with a grin, "but Y/n, your body is fucking insane. Seriously. If I did girls, I swear I'd be all up on you right now."

"Hey!" Jace immediately piped up, his voice spiking with a funny combo of mock offense and protective best friend energy as he swatted Jungwon's arm.

"I said if!" Jungwon defended himself, laughing and lifting his hands in retreat. "I'm just appreciating the view! She looks amazing."

Their ridiculousness finally cracked your bad mood and you sat up, crossing your legs on the carpet before offering Jungwon a playful hair flip. "Thank you, Jungwon," you said, sending a smug look in Jace's direction. "At least someone in this room appreciates the effort it takes to look this hopelessly single."

Jace rolls his eyes playfully, leaning over to drape his arm over Jungwon's shoulders. "Oh, please. Don't let Jungwon feed your drama. You have plenty of clothes. What about that black two piece?"

You blink up at him from the floor. "Which one?"

"The one you wore to that lounge downtown like three months ago," Jace says, pointing a finger at you like a detective solving a case. "I literally remember because I had to play bodyguard the entire night. Three different guys at the bar approached you within the first hour of us getting there. One of them literally choked on his drink when you walked past."

A lightbulb instantly goes off in your head. "Oh my god," you gasp, jumping up from the carpet. "Jace, you are an absolute genius."

You dive back into the depths of your closet, tossing aside a few stray cardigans and tops until your fingers finally brush against the familiar, sleek fabric of the two piece. It's perfect.

You quickly slip into the outfit, smoothing the skirt down over your hips and adjusting the top in your full length mirror. Turning around, you strike a dramatic pose for your audience of two. "Well? Does the bodyguard approve?"

Both boys look up and right on cue, they nod in total satisfaction. Jace looks like he’s proud of his own styling skills, while Jungwon lets out a low whistle, shifting back against your pillows with a grin.

"Yeah, definitely that one," Jungwon says, giving you a lazy smirk. "That's hot. Sloane is going to lose her mind."

"Finally. Can we go?" Jace asks, getting up from the bed and taking Jungwon’s hand in his.

"We are getting trashhh-ed, we are getting loose, no more books, just cranberry and booze!" you belt out at the top of your lungs as you step out of the room, doing a ridiculous, little shuffle right down the middle of the dorm hallway. You toss a dramatic hip shake into the choreography, the heels of your knee length boots clicking against the linoleum.

"Sloane is turning older and I am looking fly, if a frat boy breathes near me I am gonna make him cry!"

Behind you, Jace and Jungwon start losing it over your rap. "Oh my god, please lower your voice, the RA is going to write us up before we even hit the lobby," Jace wheezes, pressing a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shake with laughter. He jogs a few steps to catch up, playfully nudging your shoulder.

"Don't listen to him, Y/n, it's a lyrical masterpiece," Jungwon hypes you up from a few feet back, pulling out his phone to record your makeshift victory lap. He's grinning from ear to ear, clearly entertained by the striking difference between your stunning outfit and your chaotic energy.

"Give us another verse!" Jungwon challenges, keeping his phone camera pointed right at you as he jogs a couple steps to keep up with your backward walking pace.

You don't even hesitate before you drop your voice an octave, adopt a ridiculously serious facial expression and point a finger gun directly at his camera lens. "Pop the bottles at the table, yeah we doing it right, Jungwon's paying for the drinks so we can party all night!"

Jace lets out a loud gasp, slapping his hand against the wall as he cracks up. "Oh, shit! She got you!"

Jungwon drops his phone slightly, his eyes widening in a mix of genuine surprise and amusement. "Yo, hold on, that actually went hard," he says, nodding his head to an imaginary beat while Jace cheers you on. Jungwon steps up beside you, looking impressed by your quick wit. "The flow? Y/n, be honest with me, have you ever considered a career in rapping? Because I think you just found your true calling."

₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒⊹

Jake Sim has a lot of problems in his life, for example there's his absolute joke of his grades, his mountain of unread texts from people who only want him for his car or his fake ID and there's also soul crushing fact that his twin brother thinks he's a raging homophobe. But his absolute worst problem was the fact that girl he was completely and painfully head over heels in love with absolutely hated his fucking guts and honestly why wouldn’t you?

He didn't always mean to be a monster, it just always came out that way whenever he got within five feet of you, like a defense mechanism he'd perfected over years of watching you look at Jace like he hung the fucking moon.

For years, Jake had been trapped in his own head, completely convinced that you and Jace had a secret thing going on. You were always whispering with his twin, always sharing looks he couldn't quite catch, always a single unit. It was the exact reason he'd never confessed or ever opened up all these years, he simply couldn't face the humiliation of competing with his perfect brother for your heart. So instead, he played the role of the obnoxious guy cause it was easier to be hated for a fake persona than rejected for who he actually was.

The night of the lit major mixer while he was leaning against a makeshift table by the bar and running his mindless routine on some girl whose name he hadn't even caught. He wasn't paying attention to her, already bored of her giggles and pathetic attempts at flirting. His eyes were scanning the room looking for something or someone else more entertaining and that's when he spotted you standing with your friend.

You looked incredibly sweet, you always did in a way that always tugged at his heart. Your dress, the way your hair was styled, the sight of you landed like a hammer against his ribs, you were so beautiful in a way that made him feel that familiar, pathetic ache all over again. Then he heard you and your friend let out a synchronized squeal over a phone, you looked so happy and it couldn't help but want to be in your space immediately. So he abandoned the girl at the bar without a second thought, he moved into your space while he masked his pounding heart with his trademark smirk.

"Well, well," he said, stepping directly into your personal bubble, ignoring how you instantly stiffened. "That's a very pretty dress, baby doll. What aisle of the candy store did you come from? Cause you look incredibly sweet tonight."

Your face twisted in total disgust as usual. "That is the worst line I have ever heard, Jake. Seriously, stop."

He didn't flinch, definitely used to the lashings by now. He offered a smooth "And hello to you too, Sandra" to your friend, completely unbothered when she corrected him that her name was Sloane. He shrugged it off, eager to get back to the only person he cared about. "Sloane, Sandra...both beautiful, just like you. What's the difference?"

"So, where's my boring other half? I figured if you were here, he'd be trailing behind you like a lost puppy."

"He's not here, Jake. And for the record, you are the boring one," you snapped, ditching him to head straight for the exit.

Panic immediately spread in his chest, he didn't want you to leave, he was desperate and something in him told him he'd never get you alone without Jace like this again. But when you asked him why he was even here, his brain scrambled and all he could throw out was a crude comment, jerking his thumb toward the bar girl and making a vile joke about trying out lit major pussy, just to see if it would get a rise out of you. It worked but not the way he wanted. You looked at him, repulsed and swiveled to bolt down the stairwell.

"Hold on for a sec," he called out to you, his teasing facade shifting a little.

"Go away, Jake!" you yelled back.

"Wait up, I'm serious," he pleaded, his heavy boots clattering down the concrete stairs behind your platform slippers. By the second floor landing, the smug layer was entirely gone and he was completely desperate. "Y/n, stop. I actually have something important I need to ask you. Just...hold on." He needed to know, needed to finally ask if you and Jace were actually together because the uncertainty had started to eat at him.

You made it to the ground floor, your hand slamming onto the heavy metal handle of the exit door. Jake lunged forward, throwing his hand over your head to hold the door shut, trapping you. "I'm not joking, listen to—" But his eyes shifted to the glass and his words deserted him. He didn't need to ask you anything because his answer was right there just through the door, in the form of his twin brother pinning a guy to the bike racks and kissing him with such fervor.

"What the fuck?" Jake breathed out in a deep exhale and a massive puzzle slammed together in his head and it left him utterly breathless, in fact he wanted to faint.

Jace was not straight.

All those years...all those years of Jake staying away from you, trying to keep his mouth shut, torturing himself because he thought you and Jace were secretly dating or harboring feelings for each other—it had all been a lie. A massive and colossal misunderstanding. You weren't a couple, you were just best friends and Jace had been hiding this massive secret from everyone, including him.

The anger that boiled up in Jake in that exact second wasn't because Jace was kissing a guy. It wasn't homophobia, it was just a violent wave of betrayal and resentment. He was angry partially because Jace had hidden it but mostly because Jace's silence had accidentally locked Jake out of ever pursuing the only girl he loved, leaving him to waste years acting like a villain while his own brother kept him in the dark.

The shock hardened into an unreadable, defensive mask and without hesitating, Jake hurled the door open and stormed into the night.

"Jake, stop! Please, just leave them alone!" you sobbed behind him, grabbing his arm with both hands to anchor him. He didn't even look at you as he violently jerked his shoulder away, shoving you off so hard you stumbled back against the cold brick wall of the stairwell. He didn't mean to hurt you—he never wanted to hurt you—but his blood was boiling too hot.

"What the fuck, Jace?!" Jake's voice boomed through the quiet courtyard.

The two boys sprang apart and Jace turned deathly pale.

"Are you serious right now?" Jake stepped closer, his looming posture dripping with guard that fully looked like aggression. "You're gay? You've been playing this whole honors student part while you're out here kissing dudes? Lying to our parents? Why didn't you say anything?"

The questions were frantic, maybe too accusatory and completely lopsided by his own internal panic. He was essentially screaming—Why did you let me believe you guys were together? Why didn't you trust me? But that's definitely not what everyone else was hearing.

You threw yourself between them, pressing your hands against Jake's chest. "Jake, shut up! Stop it right now! This isn't the time or place. Leave him alone!"

Jake didn't budge, staring directly over your head into his twin's terrified eyes. He wanted Jace to explain, to say something that would make sense of the years of distance between them.

But Jace just let out a bitter, icy laugh. "Wow," Jace spit. "You find out your brother is gay and your first instinct isn't to wonder why I was too scared to tell you. It's to accuse me of living a lie because it bruises your pathetic ego."

Jace's eyes turned cold. "You truly are a vile excuse for a human being, Jake. I've spent twenty two years sharing your face and every day I wake up wishing I could tear it off just so I don't have to look like someone so completely devoid of anything decent. You're not my fucking brother. You're just a mistake that happened four minutes before me."

The words left an invisible wound in Jake, he could've sworn getting stabbed would've hurt less. He stood there frozen as Jace turned and ran, wanting to scream that Jace had it all wrong, that he wasn't mad about who Jace liked, he was mad because the lie had cost him everything, cost him time. He thought of you but the blinding hatred and tears he had seen in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. You would never believe him, you would always choose Jace.

The blinding rush of anger only broke when he heard the sickening sound of your shoes catching on the uneven pavement. He tore his eyes from Jace just in time to see you crash heavily onto the concrete sidewalk, your body tumbling forward in the dark. He rushed over, dropping to his knees, his hands hovering over your shaking shoulders. All he wanted to do was lift you up, clean the dirt and blood already seeping from the wound and carry you somewhere safe. He wanted to be the one to protect you.

But the moment he reached for you, you flinched away as if his touch were poison. The look of burning hatred you hurled at him through your tears froze the air in his lungs. You wouldn't budge. You screamed at him to stay away, even with your voice raw and broken and no matter how much he begged you to just let him help, you refused to let him near you. You tore into him, calling him a shadow Jace has been trying to outrun and finally saying the words that made his jaw tighten in unmistakable heartbreak. "I hate you. I think I've always hated you."

He tried to deny it, ignoring the crack in his voice as he growled out that you didn't mean it but it was more like he was trying to convince himself and not you. But you just laughed right in his face and doubled down, like you wanted to ensure every single word cut like a knife.

His hands were shaking violently at his sides as he muttered for you to stop, but you just wouldn't. Maybe you really did hate him and his presence was only making you spiral deeper into distress, so he finally backed off but he refused to just leave you bleeding in the dark. So, he got back in his car and kept his foot light on the gas, tracking your slow limping figure from the street, driving right beside you along the curb. He ignored the honks of other cars, keeping his lights blinking, purely focused on ensuring you made it across campus and straight to the safety of Jace's dorm building.

The second the heavy glass doors of the honors dorm closed behind your shivering form, the last string holding Jake together snapped.

He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the engine roared as he sped recklessly through the campus gates, tearing down the empty roads all the way back to his off campus apartment. He doesn't remember much of the actual drive or how he even managed to park the car without wrecking it, he does remember how his eyes blurred so violently from tears that the streetlamps bled into long streaks of yellow light down his cheeks. He remembers stumbling through his front door and wanting to not be around anymore the moment the gravity of his own wreckage finally collapsed on top of him.

What had he done?

He had wanted to fix a years long misunderstanding, maybe finally clear the air so he could be a man and tell you how he felt. Instead, in the span of less than ten minutes, he had severed his bond with his twin brother, terrified the girl he loved and cemented himself as the villain in both of their stories.

Jake inevitably fell into a deep, dark slump that very weekend. By Saturday morning, he was desperate to numb the static buzzing in his brain, so he took a random pill he'd bought off some guy at a party weeks ago. Which was a massive mistake because instead of taking the edge off, it triggered a severe drop in his serotonin, sending him spiraling into a hollow depression.

He spent all of Saturday and Sunday locked in his room, staring at the ceiling as his phone rang out with calls from his parents. He didn't make it to the Sunday family dinner, how could he? Jace wasn't picking up his calls or answering any of his frantic texts and the fear of facing his parents kept him paralyzed. He knew exactly what would happen if he went home—Jace had probably already told them everything about how he had acted and he knew wouldn't take his side, they never did.

Wrapping his arms around his head in the dark, he finally had to admit it to himself for the first time in his life, the armor and the denial wasn't working—he was depressed.

The thought felt heavy and bitter in his chest, it was a truth he had spent years violently sprinting away from. He had never, ever admitted it to himself before, sure he'd sat in those sterile therapist offices his parents forced him into. He'd watched the doctors scribble notes on their clipboards, speaking in those careful tones that made him want to rip his own skin off. And yeah, he'd been put on medication and he did the work, swallowing those little pills because it was easier than fighting his mother about it.

But taking them had never meant he accepted it. To teenage Jake and even to an older one, the diagnosis wasn't a medical reality for him, it always felt more like a verdict. It was proof that everyone around him, from even his mother to his twin brother, looked at him and saw something defective, maybe even broken that needed to be chemically altered just to be tolerable.

The meds were just a reminder that Jace was born right and Jake was born wrong.

So he'd hidden behind the noise and built this fuck boy persona, where he drank too much and laughed too loud, treating everything like a joke so he could prove to the world and to himself that he was fine and he was normal. He had convinced himself that if he just ran fast enough, that shadow wouldn't catch him.

But sitting there in the dark, with his serotonin and dopamine entirely depleted by a reckless choice, the noise was gone. Jace wouldn't answer his calls, you hated his guts and probably wouldn't even spit on him if he were on fire and his parents were a looming storm he couldn't face.

He didn't step foot outside his apartment until Wednesday afternoon and the only reason he did was because he absolutely had to see a professor for a class he was currently failing. His head throbbed, his skin felt itchy under his wrinkled hoodie and he hadn't taken a shower or eaten a single thing in days. He tried to make one good decision, to get some food in his system so after meeting with the professor, he made his way to the dining hall, only to be hit with the sight of you as soon as he walked in.

You were sitting at a table laughing with Jace and the guy from that night. Watching the three of you made a bitter thought loop in his head.

Jake had always been jealous of Jace, always and it wasn't just about you, though that was the sharpest ache in his ribs. It was everything, Jace got to be the real golden boy, the honors student, the twin who didn't have to put on a loud mask just to feel like he existed or have to choose between feeling hopelessly sad or being numbed by his medication. Jace got to be soft and people loved him for it, he got to have genuine friendships, while Jake was surrounded by leeches. And now, Jace had the love of that guy along with the freedom of being completely honest and out.

Most of all, Jace had you.

Even when you were all just laughing at a table he couldn't sit at, you were looking at Jace with that protective warmth Jake would have given anything to experience just once. Jace got the best parts of the world without even trying and Jake was left standing in the shadows with the exact same face but a drastically different result.

The sight of you laughing and smiling triggered a painful memory for him. May 2021, a week before junior prom when he was sitting at the breakfast table with his family, his fingers tightly gripped around a glass of orange juice. He had spent days building up the courage to finally say the words out loud.

"I think I'm going to ask Y/n to the dance," he had announced, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was hammering against his ribs. "I want to buy her a corsage and take her."

His dad had let out a low chuckle into his coffee cup but didn't offer a real comment. Jace on the other hand, had laughed right in his face. "Are you serious, Jake?" Jace had scoffed with a shake of his head. "Y/n wouldn't even want that. We already planned to go together anyway. You'd just make it awkward for her."

Jake's chest had tightened but the real blow had yet to come, then his mother came from his reached across the table, trying to soften the impact but her words only hurt him more. "Sweetie, your brother is right. You know how sensitive Y/n is. It's probably a better idea for Jaejun to take her instead. They're best friends and he knows how to look after her."

That rejection had upset him far beyond what he even thought he was emotionally capable of handling. He was only seventeen after all, just a kid who didn't possess the emotional maturity to process the concept of his own mother openly admitting that Jace was better suited for the girl he loved. In the mind of an insecure seventeen year old Jake, it felt like his family was explicitly telling him he wasn't good enough, that he was too rough around the edges to ever deserve you.

The hurt had turned into a toxic anger and a vow to make everyone else feel as small as he felt in that kitchen table. It made him cruel.

A week later, when he stood by the banister in the foyer and watched you walk in, the cruelty spilled over. You looked so pretty in your baby pink dress, despite the braces and the acne you were so insecure about. But the second he noticed that once again, you were looking at Jace like he was your whole world and Jace was smiling back as he pinned a corsage to your wrist, Jake's heart went cold. If he couldn't have you look at him like that, he was damn well going to make sure Jace didn't get to enjoy it either. He tore you down because his own mother had torn him down first and he had been repeating that same broken cycle ever since.

Unfortunately, the exact millisecond those harsh words left his lips in the foyer, the weak armor of his anger shattered. He watched the light completely drain from your face and the tears well up in your eyes, in an instant, a surge of regret hit him. He wanted to reach out and swallow the words back down his throat, letting you know he didn't mean a single syllable of it. He didn't even care that his mother had immediately stepped in and grounded him for the next month, taking away his car keys right there in front of everyone.

The punishment was nothing compared to the burning pit in his stomach, he only wanted to make it right, pull you aside and beg on his knees for your forgiveness but he never got the chance. Jace had seamlessly stepped in, guiding you out of the house to the safety of his car while comforting you and his mother had coldly pointed toward the stairs, sending Jake up to his bedroom like some pariah.

He spent hours in the dark, listening to the muffled silence of a house that felt like it was actively rejecting him. When Jace finally came back late that night, the tension in their shared bedroom was undeniable. Jace didn't even look at him as he changed out of his tux, then out of nowhere, Jace spoke into the dark, "You know, Jaeyun, I consider Y/n more of a sibling than I consider you. She's my real twin and if I ever had the choice, I'd pick her over you in a heartbeat. And after today, I don't want you to ever come near her again."

A clean snap, if everyone in his life thought Jace was the better twin, if even his own mother openly favored Jace's gentleness over him and now his own identical brother, the person who shared his actual face, would choose you over him without a second thought—where did that leave him? It left him with absolutely no one. He was entirely alone in his own home.

That was the exact night, five years ago, Jake Sim buried his feelings for you so deep that no one could ever dig them back up. If loving you meant constantly being reminded of how inferior he was to Jace, it was safer to pretend he didn't care at all, he figured it'd be easier to be the villain they all assumed he was anyway and if he couldn't be loved for who he was, he would make sure he was desired for what he could pretend to be.

The very next week, he had asked out the prettiest girl in school and basked in the shallow attention it brought his way, only to coldly dump her for her best friend three weeks later. He didn't care about the collateral damage, he just needed to feel like he had some semblance of power, some form validation to drown out the memory of Jace's voice telling him he'd never be chosen.

He carried that exact same toxic behavior right with him to college and when he arrived on campus, he quickly realized he didn't fit in with the honors students or the artsy crowd where you and Jace flourished. Instead, he found that he only fit in with the frat boys, guys who valued the same superficial bravado he used to mask his own emptiness. He became the guy who drank too much, laughed too loud and treated girls like conquests, all because the real Jake Sim was still a heartbroken seventeen year old kid hiding in the dark, terrified of being rejected again.

In the middle of the crowded dining hall, Jake felt completely hollow with his body aching from the lingering weight of a chemically induced weekend crash. He watched the three of you from a distance, before he saw your head shift in his direction and your smile instantly vanish at the sight of him, he knew you'd spotted him. A part of him wanted to throw up his usual, cocky armor, maybe to smirk or throw out a hollow catcall at you just to hide how empty he actually felt but he simply didn't have the energy. The fake golden boy act was dead but he forced his heavy feet forward and made a direct line for your table. As he approached, he deliberately locked his eyes onto his twin, completely avoiding your gaze. He couldn't look at you cause he couldn't bear to see more of the disgust and fear that was undoubtedly written all over your face after what happened on the rooftop. He just needed his brother.

"Jace," "Can we talk? Just real quick. Somewhere else."

He watched Jace instantly stiffen, his brother's arm defensively dropping under the table, likely reaching for Jungwon's hand. Jace glared up at him all tight and unyielding. "Why couldn't you just call me, Jake? Or wait until I was at the dorm?"

Jake let out a rough breath and used his eyes to beg his twin to just cooperate for once. "I've been texting you for three days, Jace. You haven't responded once. I...I really need to talk to you."

He didn't fire back with a snarky comment, nor did he roll his eyes. He just stood there, pale and exhausted, too exposed under the bright lights. He thanked a higher being that Jace seemed to sense the genuine desperation behind the lack of an argument.

"Fine. Two minutes," Jace muttered.

Jake immediately turned around and headed toward a less crowded corner of the room, he could feel your eyes burning into his retreating back but all he could focus on was the faint hope that he could finally make his brother understand the truth before it was too late.

"Look, Jace," Jake started, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. "First of all...I'm really sorry. About that night, I shouldn't have blasted you out in the open like that."

Jace let out a dry scoff, he didn't look like he was believing a word of what his brother was telling him. "Are you serious right now, Jake? You think an apology fixes that? You cornered us and you made it sound like I was committing some crime."

"Because I was losing my mind, Jace." Jake erupted, his defense mechanism instantly flaring up as he went into a frantic rant. He paced a small line on the tile. "You don't get it. You've never gotten it. I didn't care that you were kissing a guy, Jace. I was angry because you hid it. I was angry because you let me believe that you and Y/n—"

"Don't—Do not drag her into this," Jace cut him off in a protective growl and Jake couldn't deny the anger in his twins eyes. "Do not bring Y/n's name out of your mouth, Jake. You've done enough damage to her to last a fucking lifetime."

"You're not even listening to me." Jake pulled his hair, feeling the desperation finally snap what was left of his restraints. He stopped pacing a little and stared directly into his twin's face. "I am dragging her into this because she is the reason. I have been helplessly, devastatingly in love with her, Jace! I've been in love with Y/n since we were like fucking fourteen and I stayed away because I thought you two were together!"

The part of Jake that thought Jace would finally see things from his point of view immediately died when his face didn't even move an inch, in fact his eyes narrowed in utter disgust.

"Cut the shit, Jake." Jace said, completely unyielding. "Seriously, just stop. Whatever twisted game you're playing at right now, it isn't going to work anymore. You don't love her. You just can't stand that she's part of my life and completely wants nothing to do with yours."

"I'm not playing a game." Jake choked out, crying already with tears finally pricking the corners of his eyes and blurring his vision. "I—I'm telling you the truth."

"You have issues, Jake. Real issues and I think you need serious help." Jace said softly before looking at him with agonizing pity—the one expression Jake absolutely loathed more than anything else in the world. It always made him feel small and broken.

"Have you even been taking your meds?" Jace asked, voice filled with concern. "Because you're completely spiraling and I'm not going to let you use one of your episodes as an excuse to wreck my life or Y/n's."

A tearful gasp escaped Jake's throat before he could stop it and his hands formed tight fists inside his pockets as the tears finally spilled over his pale cheeks.

"Screw you," Jake spat as he took a step back, shaking his head violently and backing away from Jace. "Screw you, Jace. This has nothing to do with that. You just...you never want to see me as anything else, do you?"

That question seemed to hurt Jake more than any insult his brother has ever thrown his way because the topic of his depression and his medication had always been strictly off limits in their family. It was the one deeply guarded secret that was kept hidden away from the rest of the world—even you didn't know about it. So for Jace to weaponize that private vulnerability and drag it into the light of a public space just to invalidate him, that felt like a level of calculated cruelty Jake never thought his brother was capable of.

Jace let out a long sigh and ran a hand down his face as if he was dealing with an exhausting chore rather than a breaking his own blood. "Look, I know how you get, Jake."

"So maybe...I don't know, maybe all of this is just a manifestation of you being off your meds again."

Jake stared at his twin and just felt completely paralyzed as the words hung in the air between them. He genuinely could not believe what he was hearing. The logic was so twisted that it left him breathless—the fact that Jace thought the only possible explanation for Jake truly loving you, the only way his years of silent and agonizing pining could ever make sense in his brother's mind, was if it were the byproduct of a severe depressive spiral or a manic episode. To Jace, Jake's genuine heart was nothing more than a chemical glitch and just another symptom to be managed.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in Jake's chest but it quickly turned into a sob as he nodded his head violently. He looked at the identical face staring back at him with that pity and the last shred of his attachment to his twin vanished into thin air.

"And I thought I was the vile twin," Jake whispered but didn't bother waiting for a response or giving Jace another second to dissect him. He simply walked away, fully intending to forget all about you and his brother too.

He threw the doors open, ignoring the way the heavy wood slammed against the drywall with a loud crack. On the drive back, he had squeezed the steering wheel until his hands went numb, staring so hard at the road his eyes burned. He hadn't let himself continue to cry, he had just breathed through his teeth, pushing down the lump in his throat because he refused to break down in his car over a brother who looked him in the eye and called his heart a clinical glitch.

He just needed to get inside his apartment, he was ready to lock the world out again and let the darkness take over.

Instead, when he unlocked his apartment door and pushed it open, his feet stopped dead. The lamp in the corner was throwing a little light across the living room and sitting right there on the couch she bought him was his mother.

The second she heard him come in, her head snapped up, taking a long look at his pale face, the deep bruises under his red rimmed eyes and the sad way his hoodie hung off his shoulders, and she stood up fast. Her face broke open with a look of real panic and maternal dread.

But Jake was blind to it.

His brain, already skinless by Jace's execution of his dignity, went into immediate defense mode. He didn't see a mother who had driven over out of worry for her son. He saw an intruder and the woman who had spent his entire youth looking at him like a problem to be solved, standing in his sanctuary and his walls went up, turning his agonizing hurt into razor sharp venom.

"What are you doing here?" Jake spat at her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. He made sure the words came out harsh and deliberately ugly. "Why are you inside my apartment unannounced? Who the hell gave you a key?"

He could see his mother visibly recoil, her shoulders dropped as though she'd been struck but she didn't get angry at him. She took a tentative step toward him, her hands hovering in the space between them.

"Jaeyun, please, just stop," she whispered, her voice trembling as she glanced around the room. "I've been calling you for three days. You haven't answered a single text. I was just worried about you." She gestured helplessly to the state of the room—the stale air, the chaotic piles of dirty clothes that always signaled he had stopped functioning weeks ago. "Look at this place, Jake. Look at you. I'm worried about you."

He walked right past her, brushing his shoulder against hers as he headed deeper into the apartment. "There's nothing to be worried about," he muttered dismissively as he threw his car keys onto the messy kitchen counter. "I'm just tired. Leave it alone."

"Jake, please, just listen to me," she pleaded with him, her voice cracking as she hurried after him. She reached out, using her fingers to desperately catch the rough fabric of his sleeve, holding onto him to force him to stop moving.

Jake gave her one irritated breath and looked down, ready to wrench his arm out of her grip but his throat closed around the words.

In her other hand, clutched tightly against her palm, was his prescription container of Lexapro.

Through the translucent plastic, he could see the unmoved crowd of tablets inside. Yes, the bottle was still full with the exact same amount of pills it had contained a month ago when he'd first picked up the refill. She didn't just suspect it anymore—she knew with absolute certainty, that he hadn't been taking them.

Silence fell over the kitchen and his mother looked up at him with eyes shining with unshed tears, silently begging him to acknowledge the proof right in front of them.

Jake's rolled his eyes and a bitter sneer twisted in his features as he reached down. One by one, he pried her fingers off his arm, pushing her hand away from him.

"I'm fine." He said in an unyielding line as he stepped backward out of her reach. "I told you, I'm fine."

"You think a handful of pills fixes a broken son, is that it?" Jake asked her with a sickly smile on his face, "You think if I just swallow your little compliance capsules, I suddenly become the son you actually wanted?"

"Jake, stop it! That is not what this is!" She cried out, clutching the plastic bottle tight against her chest like a shield. Tears were streaming freely down her face now and her posture entirely broken. "It's medicine! You are hurting and you are spiraling and I am watching you destroy yourself!"

"Because I am defective, right?!" He suddenly roared, stopping in his tracks. "That's what you and Jace think! Even dad! That's what you've always thought! You look at him and you see the perfect child, the brilliant twin, the one who does everything right! And then you look at me and you just see a project that needs a chemical fix!"

"That is not true!" she sobbed, shaking her head so violently her hair fell out of its clip.

"Don't lie to me!" Jake screamed as his face turned an unhinged red. The years of suppressed emotion and agonizing reality of living in Jace's shadow, finally tore out of his throat in a breathless torrent.

"You love him more. Just admit it. You've always loved him more, every—every single day of my life, you looked at me and wished I was just like Jace. You wished I was quiet, you wished I was stable, you wished I didn't have a broken fucking brain! You look at my identical face and you just wish you could erase me and double your investment in him!"

"No! Jaeyun, stop, please, my god, stop!"

His mother dropped the pill bottle and the plastic clattered against the hardwood floor, making the tablets scatter across the floor. She lunged forward, not caring about his harsh words and grabbed his face with both of her shaking hands, forcing him to look at her.

"That is not true! It has never ever been true!" She wailed in his face. She held him tightly, digging her fingers into his cheeks as she forced his wild eyes to lock onto hers. "I love you, Jake. I love you. Just the way you are. I have never wanted you to be Jace. I have only ever wanted you to survive this . You are my son. My beautiful, fiercely loving boy and it hurts my heart to see you in this much pain."

Her words seemed to snap his violent armor as the heat left his body all at once, leaving him gutted to his core and trembling. Jake's eyes quickly welled up and the heavy tears finally spilling over his lashes, tracing hot paths down his pale cheeks. His mouth opened but not a sound came out at first, just a serrated gasp for air as his shoulders caved inward. He didn't pull away from her touch this time, he collapsed into it, letting his heavy hands come up to grip her wrists but instead of prying them away like he's sure she thought he would do, he used them to hold his body upright.

He was crying completely now, his breaths came hard with rattling sobs that sounded like a dying man. He looked at his mother, stripped entirely of his pride, his anger and his defense mechanisms, reduced to nothing but bleeding nerve endings.

"Then why doesn't Y/n love me back?" Jake whispered, his voice cracking so deeply it was barely a breath, entirely devastated. He stared into his mother's eyes, looking like a broken sixteen year old boy. "If I'm not broken, Mum...if I'm not less than him...then why doesn't she want me? Why does she look at Jace like he's the entire world and look at me like I'm nothing?"

To his surprise, a gasp of relief mixed with laughter

escaped her throat, it was like even through the agonizing weight of his confession, she was just grateful to have her boy back. She gave another little before she lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his heavy frame tightly against her chest.

Jake stiffened, as the sudden warmth caught him off guard. He was still crying when he felt his nose running and knew his face was a total mess of tears and snot. Realizing he was ruining the back of her cashmere sweater, he awkwardly tried to pull away, his shoulders tense. "Mum, wait, I'm getting..."

But she didn't care and she didn't let him go. If anything, she only squeezed him tighter, burying her face into his shoulder and rocking him back and forth as if he were still a little boy.

"Oh, my darling, darling boy." Her voice muffled against his hoodie. "My sweet Jaeyun...Y/n loves you more than you could ever even comprehend."

Jake froze in her arms, his breath went uneven in his throat. The words sounded so utterly ridiculous, so completely detached from the brutal reality of that night, that they felt like a cruel joke. He pulled back just enough to look at her and a sad laugh bubbled up through his fresh tears. He shook his head. "Don't...Mum, don't make fun of me. Please. You don't know what she said to me. She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, Jaeyun," his mother doubled down instantly, her hands moving up to cup his face again, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. Her gaze was unyielding, and filled with so much certainty a part of him wanted to badly to believe her. "Y/n is just deeply hurt. Your actions...the things you did to protect yourself, they pushed her away. But that is not hate. You have to believe me."

Before he could argue or before his brain could spiral back into the darkness as your voice flooded his head again, she guided him toward the living room. Jake didn't fight her, he let her pull him down onto the thrifted couch, his long legs cramping up as he curled into her side and buried his face in her lap just like he used to do when the world got too loud. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair with a gentle hand and whispering sweet nothings into the quiet room.

"You're going to be okay, my sweet boy," she murmured, kissing the top of his head. "We're going to fix this. I love you so much, Jake. You are so so loved."

For a long time, the only sound in the apartment was the steadying of Jake's breathing as the storm inside him finally began to pass. He felt exhausted drained but lighter than he had in years.

Suddenly, his mother's soothing hand paused mid stroke. Her head turned and her eyes set on the armrest right next to Jake's head. Sitting prominently on the plush of the expensive couch was a pair of dirty boxers he had lazily tossed days ago.

She exhaled slowly like her overwhelming maternal instinct instantly was shifting from emotional crisis mode to domestic intervention.

"First thing tomorrow," she started with her voice returning to its usual brisk tone as she kept one arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, "I am calling professional cleaners. Because this is absolutely biological warfare, Jaeyun."

He laughed at her words, trying not to seem too embarrassed. Once his breathing finally leveled out, his mother gently nudged him up so she could get to work. She wasn't the type to sit idle for long and before Jake could even protest, she was moving through the apartment like a whirlwind. She cleared the mountain of beers cans and pizza boxes from the coffee table, threw his discarded clothes into a hamper and disappeared into the small kitchen to rifle through the bare refrigerator.

Jake stood leaning against the doorframe, his throat still felt raw from crying, he watched her slice vegetables, so confident in ways only a mother could be.

"Mum, you don't have to do all this," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can cook."

"You can but you haven't," she pointed out smoothly, not looking up as she tossed chopped peppers into a pan. "Grab those glass containers from the cabinet. Let's meal prep ,okay? So I know you'll actually eat a real vegetable this week."

He did as she told him to, stepping up to the counter beside her. The domestic quiet was a far cry from the emotional explosion from earlier but it felt grounded and Jake felt safe. As they worked together, dividing the food into neat containers, she kept the conversation light, she deliberately steered them away from the heavy topics of Jace, you and his own head.

"Your father installed a greenhouse last weekend," she remarked with a little smile on her lips as she handed him a serving spoon. "He's gotten obsessed. He spent a good deal of time trying to explain the kind of soil required for heirloom tomatoes to me. I had to tune him out after twenty minutes."

Jake let out a real but still quiet laugh. "Dad and gardening? He barely manages to keep the lawn alive without the gardeners."

"Don't let him hear you say that," she chuckled and lightly tapped the back of his hand with a spoon. "He bought a wide brimmed straw hat and everything. He looks ridiculous."

By the time the kitchen was clean and the fridge was stocked with home cooked meals, the exhaustion of the emotional fallout finally caught up to Jake. His eyelids felt like lead, so his mum ushered him off to his bedroom, pulling the heavy blankets over his shoulders just like she used to when he was a kid.

"Go to sleep, Jaeyun." She whispered to him before brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "I'll handle the rest."

He fell asleep almost instantly, slipping into a deep slumber. Sometime during the early morning hours, his mind drifted through a foggy state of semi consciousness. He vaguely heard distant clatters, the muted hum of a vacuum and the quiet murmur of voices in the living room but the sounds didn't alarm him. They felt like a background track to a dream and he simply rolled over to bury his face deeper into his pillow.

When he finally woke up the next day, the apartment was dead silent and he woke up to an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. He stood up and walked out into the living room and true to her word, his mother was gone but she had clearly unleashed a small army of professional cleaners on the apartment. The space was pristine, with the air smelling crisply of citrus and fresh linen, the floors practically gleamed and every single piece of clutter had been meticulously organized.

He walked into the kitchen, his bare feet cool against the spotless tile and resting in the center of the completely empty kitchen island was his container of medication.

Propped up perfectly against the plastic bottle was a bright yellow sticky note. He stepped closer, immediately recognizing his mother's elegant handwriting.

Just start with one, it read.

Jake stood frozen in front of the island, staring down at the little bottle for a quiet moment. His mind began to wander, the gears turning as he faced the wreckage of his life with a newly cleared head. The reality of everything he had broken over the past few weeks came rushing back but the paralyzing dread was gone and all he felt now was a quiet determination.

He thought about you, about the brutal words you had screamed at him on the pavement, the absolute hatred in your eyes, it all made his heart violently ache. How do I win you over? he wondered as his heart tightened. How do I even begin to show you that I'm not the selfish person you think I am?

But then there was still Jace and the disgust in his twin's voice during their hallway fight from yesterday still rang clearly in his ears. He knew the apology he had attempted had barely even scratched the surface. How do I make Jace forgive me?

He knew it would take time, in fact it would take proving to his brother that he wasn't just a ticking time bomb using his episodes as an excuse to wreck everyone else's lives.

He looked back down at the sticky note. Just start with one.

It just happened to be a terrifyingly small step, an admission that he couldn't fix everything on his own, that he actually needed the help he had spent his entire life rejecting. But as he looked around his clean kitchen, Jake didn't want to run anymore, he didn't want to hide behind the noise or the anger or even the bravado.

So with a steady hand, Jake reached out and unscrewed the cap. The plastic clicked and slowly, he tipped the bottle, catching a single pill in his palm, without giving himself another second to even overthink it or let the old demons drag him back down, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry.

The whole day passed for him in what he could only describe as his own hard won type of peace. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the constant buzzing of anxiety in his chest had subsided into more manageable hum. He actually ate his meals, sat down at his spotless kitchen table and devoured the containers his mother had left behind, forcing himself to chew and swallow until they were empty.

With his body finally fueled by something other than cheap liquor and adrenaline, he spent a solid chunk of the afternoon trying to patch up the mess that was his academic life. He stared at the brightness of his laptop screen as he drafted an uncharacteristically humble email to his economics professor. He practically begged for a chance to submit a heavily overdue assignment, trying to sound like a student who had simply lost track of time rather than one who had been entirely incapacitated by his own mind. It wasn’t easy and his brain protested the sudden inflow of words and numbers but he forced himself to stay glued to the chair until he finally clicked send.

By the time night fell, the clean apartment started to warm up to him. He put on his absolute favorite movie and watched the familiar dialogue and the predictable soundtrack filling the quiet spaces of the room. Then, he booted up his console and buried himself in video games for hours, letting the mindless reflex loops of the controller numb the remaining edges of his thoughts.

Throughout the entire day, his phone had vibrated periodically against the coffee table, lighting up with a steady stream of notifications from his frat brothers. He completely ignored them, not even bothering to swipe the lock screen open cause he already knew what they wanted and it wasn't because they were worried he had suddenly gone missing from campus. The previews on his lock screen told him everything he needed to know—they were asking about who was covering the alcohol tab for the upcoming mixer, where the keys to the frat house basement were or which girls were showing up to the pregame. It was all so agonizingly shallow, so painfully superficial and Jake for the life of him just couldn't deal with the exhausting effort of putting on the mask again. He couldn't fake that loud and hedonistic persona they all expected from him when his nerve endings were still this raw.

Yet, despite the movie, the video games, the textbook chapters and the deliberate isolation, he couldn't completely clear the air in his head. Through all of this, the one absolute constant was you. You stayed pinned to the very front of his mind, like a painfully beautiful fixture that he just couldn't escape. Every time the game loading screen went black, he saw the reflection of his own face and remembered the disdain on your face.

Every time he took a breath of the clean air in his living room, he wondered if you were still out somewhere with Jace, completely happy and relieved that he was finally out of your picture. He wanted to reach for his phone a thousand times just to type your name and beg you to just let him explain but the weight of his own mistakes held his hands still. He was working on himself, just like his mother had asked him too but the hardest pill to swallow wasn't even his own medication—it was the fact that even if he got better, he still had no idea if you would love him back or love him for him.

That same crushing burden of you on his mind carried all the way into Friday night. By then, the apartment that had warmed up to him, felt like it was itching to spit him out. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, working on another overdue assignment, when his phone suddenly vibrated against the mattress.

Jake swore he must have somehow summoned you into existence because there it was. Your name was glowing bright and impossible against the dark screen.

It was an incoming call from you and saying his heart skipped a beat would’ve been an understatement because it slammed into his stomach and back up into his ribs .

He felt paralyzed staring at the flashing letters, he also felt so incredibly confused and that made a thick wave of nauseating anxiety rise in his throat. Why were you calling him? Were you calling to berate him again? To deliver the sequel from that confrontation and finish stripping away whatever minor scraps of dignity he had left?

Or had something happened to Jace? His mind raced a mile a minute, he felt his chest tightening at the thought of his twin but he instantly shot it down. No, if Jace was hurt, you definitely wouldn't be calling him for help, you wouldn't even want him anywhere near a crisis.

He sat there overthinking, trapped in a loop of panic, watching the phone screen flash over and over. He kept debating whether to answer, his thumb was hovering an inch above the green answer icon, until the ringing abruptly stopped and the screen went dark.

A shaky breath left him and his shoulders sagged as a strange sense of relief washed over him. He wiped a sudden sweat from his palms against his sweatpants. It had to have been a mistake, maybe a pocket dial or an accident. You probably realized who you were calling and hung up in disgust.

The his phone started to vibrate again and your name flashed on the screen for a second time. This wasn't no accident, you were intentionally trying to reach him and he realized that ignoring it twice would completely kill whatever microscopic thread was left between you, the panic in his chest turned into raw adrenaline and he didn’t even give himself the chance to talk himself out of it, he reached out and swiped answer on the screen before pressing the phone tightly against his ear.

"Hello?"

"Jace?"

Your voice came through the speaker, but it didn't hit him with the sharp precision he had been bracing for. It was soft and unfocused, actually it was entirely wrong.

Jake's chest deflated and familiar pang of disappointment settling right in his heart.

Oh, yeah. It was a mistake, he thought to himself.

You hadn't meant to call him, you had meant to call the twin who actually mattered, you had probably clicked the wrong contact in a hurry.

He opened his mouth to tell you but before he could say even get a single word out, you spoke again.

"Jaceeee...where are you?"

He comically pulled the device away from his ear for a fraction of a second and checked the caller ID just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. You didn't sound like yourself at all, your voice was much whinier than usual and your syllables were dragging and bleeding into one another in a clumsy slur.

"Why aren't you here to pick me up yet?" You complained in a tone that had Jake thinking there was definitely a pout on your face. "The music inside is too loud and my feet hurt, Jace. You said you'd come get me." "But I—I’m looking around and there’s no you."

Jake stood up quickly as his brain started putting two and two together. It was Friday night and you were out somewhere and from the sounds of it, you were absolutely wasted.

His first instinct was to just tell you the truth—that you had dialed the wrong twin and he was the wrong person. He wanted to tell you to hang up and call his brother or he even thought about hanging up himself and calling Jace to let him know you were stranded somewhere. But the memory of his Wednesday exchange flashed in his mind and Jace's voice echoed in his ears. Have you even been taking your meds? I'm not going to let you use your episodes as an excuse to wreck my life or Y/n's.

Jace wouldn't answer his call. If Jake tried to ring his brother right now, Jace would see his name on the screen, assume it was another episode or another frantic rant and decline it instantly. Meanwhile, you'd be sitting wherever you were, completely incapacitated and unprotected.

He couldn't leave you like that, he really didn't care if you hated him, he wouldn’t let you be vulnerable.

"Hey," Jake started, trying his absolute best to mimic the steady tone Jace always used when things got chaotic. "Hey, it's okay. Just breathe for a second. Tell me where you are."

A loud giggle came through from your end of the line, followed by a wet hiccup. "You sound so funny," you muttered and he could hear the distinct sound of wind rushing past the microphone, like you were wandering around outside. "Why do you sound so serious? Are you mad at me? Don't be mad at me, Jacey."

"I'm not mad," Jake lied through his teeth, paying no mind to how his heart was pounding, he was already grabbing his car keys off the nightstand with his free hand. He began pacing the clean floorboards of his bedroom with his anxiety spiking. "I'm not mad at all, I promise. But I need you to listen to me. I need to know where you're standing right now so I can get to you."

"I'm at...um..." You trailed off, laughing softly to yourself as if you had forgotten the question entirely. "There's a really big sign. It's pink. No, wait, it's red. It looks like a giant grape."

"A grape?" Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, stepping out into his living room. He tried to think of every bar, club and lounge near campus. "Y/n, think for me. Is it a bar or a club? Are you downtown?"

"It's a secret." You whispered loudly into the phone and followed it with another fit of giggles. "If I tell you, you're gonna make me leave and the girls were being nice. Well, some of them. One of them spilled an entire gin and tonic on my boot, Jace. Look at it."

"I can't see your boot, Y/n," Jake said while his patience was fraying into terror for your safety. He could hear heavy bass thumping faintly in the background but the air around you sounded wide open. You were definitely outside the place, likely on a sidewalk or an alley. "Please, just look around you. Read the words on the building for me. Just play along, okay? Read the words."

"Fine, party pooper," you whined, huffed loudly into the receiver before he heard the sound of scuffing of your boots, then a quiet gasp. "Oh! It says…cellar. But it’s blinking. It goes click click cliiiiick. It's soooo annoying."

Cellar. Jake knew exactly where that was—it was an underground club a mile off campus but deep in the warehouse district.

"Okay. Okay, I know where that is," Jake said, already out of his front door. He didn't care that he was crossing a massive line or that when you sobered up, you would probably despise him even more for tricking you. All that mattered was getting you into the backseat of a car before someone else noticed how helpless you were. "Stay right there under the blinking sign, Y/n. Don’t move or go back inside and don't walk away. I'll be there right now."

Jake drove as fast as he could through the dark streets, the neon signs of the city blurring into long streaks of color against his windshield. He was definitely breaking speed limits but his heart was beating so wildly that it was the last thing on his mind, he was simply fueled by the dread of you being left alone in that part of town.

When he finally veered into the cracked parking lot of the club, he slammed the brakes and lo and behold, you were actually standing exactly where he had told you to, your small frame was illuminated by the flickering red light of the giant cherry sign.

As he looked at you through the windshield, all he could think of was how easily Jace could tell you to do something and you'd just do it without a single question, simply because you trusted his twin blindly. The only reason you were standing there right now, shivering and swaying on your feet under that broken sign, was because you thought Jace had told you to stay put.

Jake killed the engine and pushed his door open, moving quickly across the pavement toward you.

The second you caught sight of his figure approaching, your face completely lit up. That reaction alone made his heart physically ache but he ignored it. You thought he was Jace and he knew with outright certainty that if you were sober or if you had any idea it was actually Jake standing in front of you, you would have already turned on your heel and walked away into the dark.

Instead, you let out a slurred cheer, stepped off the curb and threw your arms right around his neck.

"You came!" you giggled and your alcohol scented breath brushed against his ear as you squeezed him tightly. "My sweet, sweet best friend. I knew you’d never leave me."

Before he could even process the sudden warmth of your body pressed against his, you leaned back slightly and pressed a drunken kiss right against his cheek.

Jake’s whole body couldn’t move, his breath was stuttering in his lungs. He had to stand there and pretend like his entire body wasn't going completely crazy from the gesture. This was the closest he had ever been to you in his whole life—closer than he had ever dared to dream during all those years of silent pining. Every fiber of his being felt like it was on fire from the ghost of your lips burning against his skin.

But right now he knew he needed to be the responsible one and get you somewhere safe.

"Okay, okay," Jake mumbled, his tone was a little rougher than he intended but still, he gently brought his hands up to grip your waist to try to guide you toward the passenger side of his car. "Come on, let's get you into the car before you freeze."

But you were being completely difficult, you whined and stuck your face back into the crook of his neck, your hands tangling into the fabric of his hoodie as you purposely made your legs go limp. "Nooo, don't want to get in the car yet. The ground is spinning, Jace. Carry me."

A real smile cracked on his face. He really couldn't help it though, he had never in his two plus decades of knowing you seen this side of you before. The you he knew was always guarded and fiercely protective around him, especially after high school, so to see you like this, just stripped of your walls, giggling and pouting like a sleepy child, was a view of you he never thought he'd be allowed to witness. It was beautiful and by God it was intoxicating, like the most bittersweet moment of his life.

"Jaceeee, take off my booooots." You whined and he watched in awe as you actually stomped one foot on the cracked pavement like a little child. The sight made him give a defeated sigh but there was no real annoyance in it. He simply reached down and carefully unzipped the tall boots from your knees one by one until you were standing in just your socks.

He managed to get you over to the passenger door to hold it open for you, practically hovering over you to make sure you didn't tumble over and carefully helping you slide into the seat. He leaned across the console, ignoring how the unfamiliar scent of your perfume filled his senses while he pulled the seatbelt across your lap, clicking it securely into place. After gathering your boots and your bag, he tossed them safely into the backseat and closed the door.

He took in a steadying breath of the cool night air before walking around to the driver's side but the exact moment he climbed into his seat and pulled the door shut, the atmosphere in the vehicle had shifted.

You were staring at him, very angrily in fact. In a way that made his heart violently drop right into his stomach again. A cold sweat broke out across his neck as he froze under your glare, terrified that the illusion had finally shattered. His mind raced frantically—had you finally realized he wasn't Jace? Maybe the interior of the car had given him away. Jace's car didn't look like this or smell like this and you knew Jace's things better than anyone. He braced himself for the screaming that he was so sure was coming.

Shockingly though, the anger vanished as quickly as it had appeared and you burst into another helpless fit of giggles before slumping back against the headrest.

"Wow," you shook your head, looking at him with your glassy eyes. "You and your brother are so identical." You said and threw your hand to his shoulder to play with the hair on the back of his head.

He hoped you were too drunk to notice how his whole body went stiff or how he wasn't even breathing.

You emptied your lungs in an exhale, staring aimlessly out the passenger window as the car started to move.

When he was stopped at a red light and he took the opportunity to look at you, there was a heart tugging smile at the corners of your lips as you murmured, "Remember when I liked him? And I was Mrs. Jake Sim..."

Jake had no idea it was even possible for his heart to drop any further but it did. It felt like his chest had completely caved in.

What? You liked him? Him?

His hands were shaking so violently he could barely g hold the steering, his mind was screaming, like a train wreck of shock and crushing regret. He forced himself to keep driving though and he needed to keep you talking, he needed to know more. So he forced a casual laugh through his teeth, pretending to be Jace just looking down memory lane. "Oh yeah?" He asked, "Remind me...when was that again?"

"You knowww—hiccup—Up until fresh...man year," you mumbled, your hand had dropped to the middle console by now.

Jake's foot twitched violently on the pedal and he nearly slammed on the brakes right in the middle of the street. Freshman year, that was almost four years ago. Four years of him pining for you, four years of him deliberately keeping his distance because he thought you belonged to Jace and all the while...you had liked him before?

"But he's just..." You trailed off, giving a hiccup that interrupted your words and shook your shoulders. Suddenly, your tone shifted and turned into a frustrated ramble as you stared out the windshield. "He's just so horrible, Jace. He's so mean to me. Why is he like that?"

Jake gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were numb, the leather even squeaked under his palms. Every word felt like an earthquake inside him but he stayed silent and let you speak.

"I wish..." You stumbled over the words, your hand coming up to wave vaguely in the air before dropping back on his shoulder to tug at his hair again. "I wish he were better. I wish he was just a little bit better so I could...so I could love him easier. But he makes it so hard. He throws those parties and...and sleeps with all those girls and he says the most awful things and he just...he pushes everyone away. Especially me." Another hiccup caught in your throat and your voice cracked, sounding like you were just incredibly tired. "He made it so hard to stay. I wanted to...I really wanted to but he's just...he's an asshole."

Jake kept his on the dark road ahead, hearing the exact words you had screamed at him not too long ago, repeated right now in this gentle confession was a new kind of torture. You hadn't always hated him, if anything you had wanted to love him and he had ruined it all by himself.

In no time he was pulling up into the parking lot of your dorm building, it was like you felt the car come to a halt and you came around. "We're here?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand like a sleepy child and tilting your head toward him.

"Yeah. We're here," Jake said to you and if you weren't so wasted, he's sure you would've heard how think with unshed tears his voice was. He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached into the back to grab your boots and bag before stepping out into the night.

He moved around to your side and opened the door, watching as you swayed immediately you unclipped your belt, your socked feet dangling over the edge of the car.

"I can't walk, Jace." You looked up at him with wide eyes and held your arms up in the air. "My feet are cold."

Without a word like he really needed the whole night to just end, Jake leaned down and swept one arm behind your knees and the other around your waist, lifting you easily against his chest. You hummed and rested your head right in the crook of his neck, your fingers knotting into the fabric of his hoodie. The heat of your breath against his skin made him shudder but he managed to carry you up the stairs to your dorm door.

"Keys?" He gently asked, not wanting you to fully wake up from the sleep you were already entering. "In my purse."

He was able to fish for them with you clinging to him and found a way to unlock your door, kick it open with his foot and carry you inside. He set you down gently on the bed and placed your boots and purse neatly by the door.

He knew he should leave because the second you woke up tomorrow and realized he was the one who picked you up, the disguise would blow up in his face. But before he could even pull back, you drunkenly snapped right out of your drunken sleepy spell and changed the subject completely, babbling at a hundred miles an hour.

"And another thing!" You announced loudly, waving a lazy hand in the air, your words running together in a slurred mess Jake found adorable. "Sloane's birthday dinner? Oh, it was a disaster, Jace. Complete disaster. You know why?"

Jake lingered right in front of you. "Why?"

"Because she has some absolute bitches for friends," you stated with utmost seriousness, pouting so hard your lip practically stuck out. "Like, total, certified mean girls. One of them looked at my outfit tonight like I was wearing a trash bag. A designer trash bag, maybe but still a trash bag!"

A laugh burst out of Jake's chest before he could stop it. He had always been helplessly charmed by you but this was new—you were funny as you grinned triumphantly, like you were proud of yourself for making him laugh and then you slumped back into the pillows. "I wanted to put her in her place so bad but it was Sloane's birthday and gosh I love Sloane so much. She's basically your sister in law." You giggled like you made a joke only Jace would get but Jake didn't get it.

As Jake stood there watching you giggling to yourself, a wave of crushing regret and bitter jealousy hit him hard. You were so funny like this. So real, affectionate, cute and so so unfiltered. Jace got to see this side of you all the time, this silly Y/n who laughed freely and let her guard down. Jake had spent years only getting the defensive glares and the cold shoulders, all because he was too wrapped up in his own anger to show you who he actually was. And while he was getting a glimpse of heaven right now, he had to remind himself that it was built on a lie.

"Get some sleep, Y/n," he spoke softly.

"Jace, wait." You slurred out, reaching up and grabbing his hoodie. Your grip was weak but it stopped him anyway. You squinted up at him and pulled your brows together as if the fog in your brain was finally starting to clear just enough to notice something was off. "Why do you...why do you look so sad?"

"I'm not sad," Jake lied immediately, trying had to make his voice sound convincing. "I promise. You're just tired and you need to rest up."

He eased your fingers free from the hem of his hoodie, he needed to leave fast. He quickly helped you settle beneath the covers, tucked you in and then paused, sweeping his eyes over the room. Knowing how much you had consumed, he grabbed the small plastic trash can from under your desk and placed it right beside your bed, within easy arm's reach cause he had a very strong feeling you were going to throw up at some point during the night.

Giving you one last look as your breathing slowed into sleep, he quietly slipped out of your dorm and left the building as fast as he could.

Many times, he contemplated leaving Jace a text, just a brief message to let his twin know you were safe, how you had called him by mistake and everything that had just happened. But every time he thought about typing such text, he pictured Jace's disappointed eyes and decided against it. Jace wouldn't listen, he'd probably just assume Jake was crossing boundaries again.

Minutes later, when Jake was lying flat on his back in his own bed and staring up at the dark ceiling, sleep was just impossible. His mind was practically vibrating from the insane influx of information he had just been handed.

You actually did love him. Or, at least, you used to.

His mum had been right all along, you didn't hate him because he was inherently unlovable, you hated the walls he built and the bitter distance he forced between you two.

He rolled over to nuzzle his face in his hands as a twinge of regret pierced his chest because knowing the truth didn't make the air any easier to breathe. Rather, it made the weight ten times heavier. Knowing you had once wanted him didn't mean he had any idea how to fix the broken pieces now or how to make you look at him without seeing the monster he had let himself become.

Jake had no idea when he actually managed to fall asleep, only that when it finally happened, it felt less like resting and more like slipping into a coma.

The next thing he knew, he was being forcefully pulled out of said sleep by someone yelling his name, the muffled shouts echoing off the hard surfaces of the clean apartment.

"Jake!"

A door slammed open down the hall, followed by the furious clatter of boots against wood.

"Jake! Where the fuck are you?!"

The voice was breathing hard and barreling through the rooms like a storm looking for a place to strike. Jake lay paralyzed on his mattress for a fraction of a second, he could feel his heart pounding in an immediate panic but his fogged mind struggled to process the sound, struggled to bridge the gap between his lingering dreams and reality, until the cadence of the voice finally registered.

It was Jace.

Groggily, Jake shoved his duvet off his legs and swung his feet onto the cold floor, rubbing his hands over his face to force his eyes open. "Jace...?" He called out, his voice deep from sleep.

He didn't even make it three steps toward the bedroom doorway before the door was thrown wide and hitting the drywall with a slam. Jake didn’t even get a chance to create to the sound before a pair of hands slammed into his chest and shoved him backward with enough force that he stumbled back a few steps.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Jace barked, his face was red in anger and his eyes were wide and burning in anger.

Jake reeled back, lifting his hands defensively in front of his chest, still swaying slightly from disorientation. "What...what are you talking about? What?"

"Don't you play fucking stupid with me!" Jace yelled at him, stepping right into his personal space and pointing a finger directly into Jake's face. "Don’t sit there and pretend like you have no idea what you did!"

Jake blinked against the daylight flooding the room, of course he knew what he did, there’s only one reason Jace could be here yelling at him.

"Jace, just calm down for a second—"

"Calm down?" Jace responded with a harsh laugh, pacing a tight circle on the floor before snapping his eyes back to Jake. "I woke up an hour ago to a text from Y/n. Want to guess what it said? She was thanking me. She texted me thanking me for coming to pick her up from that club downtown and making sure she made it back safely."

Jace stepped closer again to his twin before delivering the other half "Except I didn't leave my dorm last night, Jake. I was with Jungwon all night and we fell asleep so I didn't go to pick her up. And there is only one other person on this entire planet she could have mistaken for me."

Jake's posture straightened as the sleep faded from his system and a flare of defensive heat rose up his chest. He took a step back and matched Jace's glare with a cold look of his own. "She called me, Jace." Jake said, his voice rising from how frustrated Jace was making him. "What do you think happened? You think I was just driving around that part of town at midnight looking for drunk girls to pick up?"

Jace crossed his arms tight over his chest as he glared harder at his twin. "Honestly, Jake? I wouldn't put it past you."

His words settled between them and normally, in the old days, like two weeks ago, before everything had shattered, that sentence alone would have been the exact trigger to blow the room apart. Jake's fist would have flown before his brain could even process the insult. He would have slammed his twin against the wall and proved every single vicious thought Jace had about him right.

Instead, Jake just stood there with his chest rose and fell but his hands never left his sides. He slowly shook his head and a look of quiet dissatisfaction settled over his features.

"I'm not going to fight you, Jace." Jake said calmly. "I'm not doing this with you."

Jace blinked, like he was momentarily thrown off by the lack of explosive rage but his jaw remained set and his eyes stayed burning.

"I did the right thing," Jake continued, staring his brother dead in the eye. "She was wasted, Jace. Standing outside some sketchy ass club in the middle of the night, slurring her words and thinking she was talking to you. I was going to hang up and call you—I really was. But I know damn well that if my name popped up on your phone at midnight on a Friday, you wouldn't have picked up. You would've let it go to voicemail thinking I was having another episode."

Jace opened his mouth to snap back but Jake cut him off by stepping forward until they were barely a foot apart. "So tell me, dear brother." Jake demanded, "What was I meant to do? Leave her stranded there? Let some random walk up to her while she was barely standing? I picked her up, brought her to her dorm, put her to bed and I walked out. That's it."

"And you know what else?" Jake added, like it was slipping out before he could stop it. "You're the one that promised to pick her up and you didn't go. Too busy shacking up with your man or whatever. So really, who the fuck is at fault here?"

Jace flinched as if he'd been struck and his chest hitched like he was about to say something but Jake didn't give him room to speak.

"You're looking for a fight and I'm not going to give you one," Jake said but now his tone was drained of heat. "Just see yourself out."

"This is my apartment too, Jake," Jace snapped.

Jake didn't even bother to respond, he had already turned his back on his twin to walk away from the confrontation and head straight back toward his bed, just ready to pull the sheets over his head and block out the rest of the world for another hour or two.

"I told you when we were seventeen to stay away from Y/n." Jace spoke after him, stepping fully into the room now. "And right now, I'm telling you again—stay the fuck away from her."

Jake stopped his feet and slowly turned to meet the pair of eyes burning holes into his skin. "Or what?" Jake asked softly.

Jace's eyes widened slightly and again, he was caught off guard by the unyielding challenge in Jake's eyes. But Jake didn't stop there. He walked around the side of the bed, moving deliberately toward his brother, every inch of his body felt tense, like he was radiating years of suppressed rage.

"No, really. What the fuck are you going to do that you haven't already done, Jace?" Jake asked in a louder voice. "What are you gonna do? Continue to hide the fact that she was in love with me too? Take it to your grave?"

The color drained from Jace's face for a fraction of a second but his expression quickly hardened into a contemptuous sneer. "Oh, please," he scoffed, throwing his hands up in mock disbelief. "You really want to take some stupid childhood crush seriously?"

"Oh yeah? And since when do childhood crushes last up to freshman year of college, Jace?"

Jace opened his mouth, like a sharp retort was sitting right on the tip of his tongue but no sound came out and for the first time since he had stormed into the apartment, Jace was totally at a loss for words, his defensive posture faltered as the silence stretched further between them. He didn't have a defense, Jake knew there was no lie he could spin or justification he could give that would erase the fact that he had kept that truth buried for years.

His jaw twitched, his throat was working hard as he seemed to swallow down his pride. Unable to meet his brother’s unflinching glare any longer, Jace's eyes darted away toward the floor. He squared his shoulders, as if to desperately try to piece back together whatever authority he had left but the cracks in his composure were wide open by now.

"Just..." Jace started, totally stripped of his earlier explosive rage. "Just stay the fuck away from my best friend, Jake. I mean it."

Without waiting for a response, Jace turned sharply on his heel. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway before the front door slammed shut behind him with a deafening, final thud that rattled the picture frames on the wall.

Jake stood alone in the quiet of his bedroom, his chest heaving as the echo of the door slamming gradually faded into complete silence.

"Just..." Jace started, his voice strained and lower now, stripped of its earlier explosive rage. He pointed a tense, trembling finger at Jake's chest, leaning in one last time. "Just stay the fuck away from my best friend, Jake. I mean it."

Jace didn't wait for Jake to say anything else, he was already turning to leave and Jake just stood there listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway before the front door slammed shut that it rattled the picture frames on the wall.

Jake's shoulders didn't drop for five minutes after he left, his body felt heavy again, like his muscles were aching in that same way. He was starting to feel like a brand new person cause this Jake immediately grabbed his medication and swallow, followed by the rest of a bottle of water on his nightstand. He was about to toss the bottle in the trash when his phone burst to life on the wooden surface with a call.

Jake was willing to let it go to voicemail but the caller caught his eye—Jay.

Out of all the guys in his fraternity, Jay was one of the very few Jake actually respected and was tolerate. Jay wasn't like the rest of the frat brothers who enjoyed the surface level pleasures, Jake could've easily branded him the most level headed person he'd ever met, he was sensible and rarely got dragged into useless drama, so if Jay was calling, it was usually important.

And that's why Jake picked up. "Hey, Jay," Jake said into the phone.

On the other end of the line, an unruly irruption of sound immediately hit him, there was the muffled sound of a speaker playing somewhere outside. He could hear the chatter of a crowd and the sound of the wind like they were in the middle of a backyard kickback.

"Jake! Man, where the hell have you been?" Jay's voice came through, loud but genuine as usual. "It's been like three days since anyone at the house saw your face. Are you good?"

Jake rubbed a hand over his face, dragging his palm down his jaw as he stepped out of his bedroom and walked into the living room. "Yeah, man. I'm fine." He lied without missing a beat. "Just...been handling some stuff at home."

"Alright, well, as long as you're alive. The guys were starting to think you went completely off the grid," Jay said with a short laugh.

As Jake was about to respond, a giggly female voice broke through the speaker on Jay's end, it was loud enough to cut over the background music. "Jay! Who is that? Who are you talking to?"

"It's Jake," Jay replied away from the mic.

"Jake?!"

Oh no.

A quick squeal of thrill reached Jake's ear, followed by a brief rustle of static like the girl grabbed the phone directly out of Jay's hands.

"Jakey!" Her voice sang into the receiver, immediately heavy handed and flirty. "Oh my goodness, where have you been hiding? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Jake froze in the middle of his living room, his brows pulling together as he tried to match the voice to a face. His mind was a total blank, he couldn't remember her face, let alone her name but he knew her voice was familiar. She was the one of a girls he'd been hooking up with for the past month or so.

"I literally left my top at your place last week," she huffed playfully. "I've been needing it back so bad. Can I come over right now to pick it up? Are you home?"

"Oh hi...you." Jake greeted awkwardly, attempting to play along to cover up the fact that he didn't have the faintest clue who he was talking to. He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing around the clean surface of the coffee table and the back of his sofa. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, you can come pick it up."

Holding the phone tightly between his shoulder and his ear, Jake walked back to his room and actively began searching for the top.

"Oh yay! I'll be there real soon."

When the call finally ended, Jake tossed his phone onto the bed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

Finding the random pieces of clothing girls would leave behind used to be easy when his place looked like a hurricane had hit it but ever since the cleaners had gone through the apartment, everything was impeccably neat. Every surface was wiped clean and every stray item had been safely tucked away.

That's why it took him nearly twenty minutes of digging through his closet and then the stack of folded laundry before his fingers brushed against a cropped piece of fabric. He pulled it out and held it up by the straps, only to scoff at the sight of it. It was the most basic black tank top imaginable, something that couldn't have cost more than five dollars. She obviously didn't care about the shirt and it was just a weak excuse for her to come back over to his place.

He walked back out to the living room and set the top on the arm of the couch, then he pulled a meal prep container out of the fridge and quickly heating it up so he could force himself to eat every bite. Once he was done, he headed straight into the bathroom to wash off the film of the morning's drama that was hard to ignore.

He was vigorously rubbing at his wet hair after his shower and just as he reached the living room, an expectant knock hit the front door.

"Timing's great." He muttered to himself, dropping the

towel around his neck and grabbing the top off the arm of the sofa, just ready to hand it over and send her on her way.

But when he pulled the door open, she had other plans. He extended his arm to her with the piece of fabric in it before he even fully looked up. "Hey."

"Here's the top." The girl with her oversized sunglasses pushed up onto her hair didn't reach for it. She quickly pouted and crossed her arms over her heavy chest instead. "Really? What? You're not even gonna invite me in?"

"I'm actually pretty busy right now," Jake threw out, taking a small step forward to block the entrance.

"Oh, come on, it'll take two seconds." She rolled her eyes, already sliding right past his shoulder into the apartment and because she had spent the night there a bunch of times, she didn't hesitate for a second before heading straight to the kitchen as if she owned the place. "I am absolutely parched, Jakey. You have any iced coffee?"

"Look, you really need to go," Jake said to her as he followed her bouncing frame, his patience wearing dangerously thin. "I have stuff I need to deal with today."

She completely ignored him, opening his fridge and humming to herself as she scanned the shelves. "Ugh, the frat house has been so boring without you these past few days, Jakey. Honestly, it's been a total drag. Some guy from lacrosse tried to hit on me last night literally ten minutes after he came out of a room he was fucking my friend in. Like, gross, right?"

She grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, snapped the cap off and took a long sip, simply blatantly ignoring Jake's rigid posture and icy expression.

Jake leaned back against the edge of the kitchen island, tossing the black tank top onto the countertop beside him. "I'm serious. You got your shirt, now you need to head out."

Instead of moving toward the door, she closed the distance between their bodies, stepping right into his personal space so she was standing just inches away from where he leaned against the island. She tilted her head back to look up at him, intentionally arching her back so her low cut top left very little to the imagination as his gaze dropped for a split second.

"You're so tense." She drawled, reaching out to rest a manicured hand lightly on his bare chest, right over his collarbone where the towel was still resting. She looked up through her lashes, before dropping her tone into a suggestive whisper. "I really missed you, you know? You've been making yourself so hard to find."

Jake had to actively suppress the urge to cringe right in her face. The way her eyelashes fluttered and the exaggerated pout of her glossed lips felt so intensely performative that it almost made his stomach turn.

Before he could take a step back, both her hands slid up from his chest and wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, digging her nails into the skin just above his towel. She arched up on her tiptoes and tugged him down until their faces were barely an inch apart.

"Well?" Her eyes searched his face and she was clearly unbothered by his lack of enthusiasm. "Are you gonna answer me, Jakey? Did you miss me too or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty?"

Jake looked down at her, desperately trying to summon a name. Kylie? Chloe? Ashley? His brain remained a frustratingly blank.

She was pulling out every single classic play in her book, every calculated and seductively slow move that would have worked on him without a second thought just a week ago. Seven days ago, he would have picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder and taken her straight to his bedroom without asking a single question, just to use her body to drown out whatever residual noise was rattling around in his head.

But right now, none of it was working. The touch of her hands on his neck felt almost invasive, the smell of her perfume wasn't sweet this time.

The only reason he hadn't immediately untangled her fingers from his skin and marched her straight out the front door was because his brain was currently burning alive. The sound of your voice all soft and slurred, confessing that you had wanted to love him was still ringing in his ears. Jace's furious face, accusing him of crossing boundaries and being intrusive was flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked.

The unbearable load of regret and anger was pressing down on his chest so hard that he could barely draw a clean breath.

He needed a distraction, needed something, in fact anything to make the noise stop, to tear your face out of his head and burn down the memory of his twin's accusations.

So his hands moved before his rational mind could stop them. Jake reached down his to grab her small waist with a firm pressure that had her gasping. He pulled her flush against his body, leaning down until their lips were close.

"Mm. You wanna remind me why I missed you?"

He just needed to lose himself in the mindless effort it would take to fuck this girl, all he wanted to do was drown out you and his brother, even if it was only for an hour or two.

When she tiptoed up to kiss him, he didn't pull back, leaning into it and encouraging her instead, his hands moved lower to grip her hips before lifting her completely off her feet. He hoisted her up and set her down on the edge of the island, the startling movement sent a stray glass sliding an inch to the side.

She let out a soft moan against his mouth as her hands moved, she even reached down to take his hand and guide it under her shirt, pressing his palm flush over her breast for him to squeeze. Jake obliged, his fingers tightened lazily over her skin as he groped her like he was just going through the motions.

Except something was deeply wrong because even with the heat of her body and the desperate way she was clinging to him and the low noises she was making as she kissed his neck, his body simply wasn't responding the way it was supposed to. Between his legs, he was completely numb. Yes, his heart was racing but it wasn't from desire, it seemed to be from the adrenaline of trying to force a reaction that wasn't there, in other words—he was flaccid.

She worked a trail of wet kisses down the side of his jaw, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something breathless and needy. Jake squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as he tried with everything in him to concentrate, he was trying to picture anything or anyone that’ll get his body to cooperate and drown out the mental noise.

Realizing the kitchen island was only making him feel more detached, he reached under her thighs and easily picked her up off the counter. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, giggling happily into his neck at the new shift as he carried her out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway toward his bedroom.

He tossed her onto the mattress with a soft thud, the heavy blankets shifted under her weight when she tumbled back. Her giggles buzzed against the quiet of the room, so high and eager, she was already pushing herself up onto her elbows and looking up at him through heavy lids, she really wasn’t wasting a second, quickly scrambling forward on her hands and knees across the bet to reach out and tug his sweats down.

Jake stood over the edge of the bed, panting in shallow breaths while his mind was still feeling like thunderstorm. He wanted this to work, he needed this to work.

She yanked the sweatpants down over his hips, pulling his underwear down with them. Then she froze. Of course she did, he still wasn’t hard one bit.

Her hands hovered right near his thighs as her eyes registered what was in front of her, the man wasn’t even showing a trace of an erection.

"Oh...?" She hummed, her flirtatious smile was already faltering into a look of confused disappointment. She tilted her head up to look at his face and a sharp spike of mortification hit Jake like a bucket of ice water, burning hot across his chest and cheeks. He quickly gave an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"Ah...sorry," he muttered in a strained voice. "Just...give me a minute, yeah? It's been a long morning."

"Take your time, Jakey." She said sweetly but Jake could hear the faint edge of impatient judgment in her voice and it only made his skin prickle more. She sat back on her heels and watched him with expectant eyes.

Jake looked down at himself, biting his inner cheek so hard he tasted blood. He grabbed himself, wrapping his fingers around his cock as he stroked it roughly, he needed to summon the physical response that usually came so easily but his body felt detached from his brain, he was numb to the touch of his own hands and numb to the girl sitting on his bed waiting for him with her tits out.

Come on, he growled at himself internally. Come on. Get it together.

Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes shut to cut off the sight of the bedroom and the girl on the bed. He was trying to think of anything that turned him on, any primal thought that could pull him out of his own head and force his blood to pump where it was supposed to. He tried to recall old memories, random hookups, dirty videos, anything that had ever worked before but nothing stuck. Everything washed away in the overwhelming fog of his own exhaustion.

And then, unexpectedly, his mind supplied a memory from just a week ago and it wasn’t even a sweet memory.

It was you, standing on the cold sidewalk outside, illuminated by the warm streetlights, your chin tilted up as looked at him like he was the scum of the earth. He heard your angry voice slicing right through him, berating him, calling him every horrible thing you could think of, screaming at him for ruining everything.

He remembered the intoxicating power you held over him in that exact moment, the burning fervor in your eyes locked onto his, demanding his undivided attention, caring enough to hate him with every fiber of your being. It hit him like a lightning strike and his pulse spiked immediately, the blood rushed south and in seconds, before he could even push the image of you out of his head, his cock twitched and hardened in his hand until he was throbbing and leaking.

He opened his eyes to look at his, almost not believing it was real. The girl's eyes widened as she watched the sudden transformation, she let out a delighted laugh. "Well, damn," she beamed as her earlier annoyance disappeared instantly. "Guess you really just needed a second."

Without waiting another beat, she leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around the base of his length, taking him deep into her mouth.

Jake threw his head back, his fingers tangling in her hair, he couldn't deny that she was good at what she was doing. The physical sensation was undeniably amazing, she was swirling her tongue effortlessly around his sensitive tip, gliding down his length and taking him deep into her throat without even a hint of a gag.

Every wet suck sent a jolt of pleasure straight up his spine, forcing involuntary grunts to leave his lips. Yet, as good as it felt physically, his mind was miles away, still held hostage by the thought of you.

A wave of humiliation washed over him, turning his stomach into a tight knot. He had never felt so utterly wrecked and exposed in his entire life. How the fuck had the vivid memory of you tearing into him, screaming at him, scolding him with those furious eyes give him a rock hard boner when a gorgeous, willing girl naked on his bed couldn't even make him twitch?

Was it some sick, twisted masochism? Or was it simply the terrifying reality that it was you? That even your rawest anger and deepest hatred were more intoxicating to him than anyone else's pleasure?

He felt filthy. Was he really so tragically gone for you that even the memory of your anger was the only thing capable of pulling him out of a slump?

It was a dangerous realization, like a true loss of control that made his skin feel like it was burning from the inside out. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, gripping her hair tighter until she whined.

And then, just as he was getting close to edge, her tongue was doing wonders, the warmth of her mouth slipped away abruptly, her hands released his hips too and his eyes snapped open. He looked down at her sat back on her knees and staring up at him with a frown. Her lips were slick with his precum but it was the way her eyes narrowed with both confusion and rapidly mounting offense that threw him off.

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Who the fuck is Y/n?" She snapped in a clipped way that definitely wasn’t flirty or sexy anymore like it was minutes ago.

Jake froze and if he was about to deny it, he’s pretty sure the speed at which his features lost color would’ve given him away.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't what me, Jake." She sneered, throwing her hands up in utter disbelief as she scrambled backward toward the headboard, pulling the top sheet over her naked chest. "You just said her name. You moaned it, actually."

"No, I didn't," Jake said instantly, in all honesty he had no idea if he had actually said your name. "I didn't say anything. You're mishearing things."

"I am not mishearing things!" She shouted out of nowhere. She pointed a sharp finger straight at his face, her eyes widening even further as a memory seemed to click in her head. "Wait...hold on. Isn't Y/n that girl always trailing your brother around campus? His best friend?"

The room suddenly felt like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding. Every muscles in Jake’s body locked all at once as panic gripped him tight.

"Shut up," Jake hissed at her. "Just shut the fuck up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Oh, really?!" She screeched louder, throwing the sheets off her legs and scrambling off the mattress with embarrassed rage. She grabbed her discarded top off the floor and held it to her chest. "I don't know what I'm talking about? I literally had your whole dick in my mouth and you're groaning another girl's name!"

"You are fucking unbelievable! You could've just said you didn't want me here. You could've just told me you weren't in the mood instead of pulling this psychopathic shit!"

"What the fuck are you on about?!" Jake barked back at her as she walked out of the room, he was pulling his sweats from his ankles, yanking them up over his hips and following her into the hallway.

"I told you to leave like three fucking times! I literally blocked the front door! You're the one who forced your way inside, went to my fridge and came onto me!"

"Whatever, Jake! Whatever!"

Her voice hit a piercing frequency, like the sting of rejection had morphed into total scorn. "I can't even believe this! You're actually sitting here fantasizing about your brother's best friend? Are you insane?"

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth." Jake snarled, stepping right into her space and towering over her frame.

"Why? Because it's the truth?!" The girl was unbothered by his glare, now that her pride was completely shredded. "Isn't Y/n basically like your fucking sister?! You guys grew up together! That is so incredibly sick, Jake. You are an absolute weirdo. A pathetic, sick fucking weirdo—"

"Just get the fuck out!" Jake yelled, his voice booming off the high ceilings as they spilled into the living room. His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were stark white, his chest heaving as he pointed a rigid finger straight toward the front door. "Get your shit and leave my apartment right now!"

"Gladly!" She snatched her purse off the island with a clatter. She spun around like she was about to deliver one last insult but the words never came.

The front door was swinging close and standing right in the middle of the living room with Jace’s spare key dangling loosely from trembling fingers was you.

Your lips were parted and your breath panting in your chest while your wide eyes were darting between the half dressed girl standing in the middle of the living room and a shirtless Jake in stunned horror.

Every single word she had just shrieked had clearly met your ears, every accusation, every mention of your name, every sick detail of what had just transpired in his bedroom, they were still resounding off the walls of the living room.

The world around Jake went fully mute, like the ringing in his ears was melting into a sickening stillness as his eyes locked onto yours.

The girl's mocking laugh cut through all that very quickly though. "Oh my God," she wheezed in fake amusement as she looked between your frozen frame and Jake's stiff body. "Not the Y/n actually showing up. Wow. That is just...that is rich."

She turned toward you, crossing her arms over her chest with a malicious smirk. "Do you know that your childhood friend thinks about you when he's getting his dick sucked?"

Before another word could leave her mouth, Jake snapped, as if the last of his restraint broke. He crossed the short distance between them in one terrifying stride, his hand shooting out to lock around her wrist. He didn't say a word or even yell. He just hauled her backward, yanking her straight to the door and ignoring the offended gasp she let out, he was already slamming the door in her face though.

"I...I'm sorry," you stuttered out.

"I was looking for Jace," you blurted as the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to explain away your presence, seeing as you’ve never been here before. "His...his location said he was here. I was just worried he wasn’t answering his texts but...I uh I guess it's just his phone he left behind."

You pointed at the floor near the entryway rug.

Jake followed your line of sight to Jace’s phone, sitting right beside the baseboard, it must have slipped out of Jace's pocket during his explosive exit earlier and he just didn’t notice.

Jake stared at you, just speechless as you quickly bent down and scooped the phone off the floor, slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans with shaking hands.

"I'm...I'm just gonna leave now," you refused to even look him in the eye as you backed up toward the threshold again, your fingers blindly reached behind you for the doorknob. "I'm sorry. I'll just go."

The humiliation of the whole situation, the lingering chemical haze in his system and the agony of having you standing right there, looking at him like he was a complete freak, it all exploded into another wave of defensiveness.

"Yeah," Jake muttered under his breath, turning his back to walk to his room. "You're real good at that."

The words were low but in the quiet apartment, they hit like a whip crack.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You scowled at him.

Jake stopped by the couch and grabbed a shirt he had tossed there earlier and yanked it over his head in a harsh move. "It means what it means," he started, staring you right in the eye. "You're fucking amazing at running away, Y/n. It's basically your signature move."

"What the fuck does that mean, Jake?" You doubled down, stepping further into the apartment and letting the door click shut behind you. Your voice rose, trembling from leftover hangover nausea and a new anger. "I literally just walked into your apartment while you were—while some naked girl was screaming at you! I came here looking for Jace! What the hell are you even talking about?!"

Jake laughed in your face but it was a humorless laugh as he rubbed a hand aggressively over his face, only to push his damp hair back off his forehead. He took a long breath, before just waving an offensively dismissive hand toward the door.

"Whatever," he tossed out flatly, like he was trying to shut it down before he completely lost his mind. "Forget it. Just go."

"No. No, absolutely not," you snapped, planting your feet firmly and placing your hands on your hips as you glared at him. "Tell me what you meant. You don't get to say shady shit like and just tell me to leave. Tell me what I'm running away from, Jake."

"From me!" The sudden volume of his voice shattered the fragile air between you. He took two steps forward until he was looking over you. "You run from me! You run from whatever the fuck happened between us and you run from your feelings for me!"

You stared at him as your mouth helplessly dropped open in bewilderment, right before your features hardened into a wall of resistance. "I don't have any feelings for you, Jake."

"Are you out of your mind? I have never had feelings for you. Unless you’re talking about how much I hate you."

"Sure," Jake scoffed and smirked but it didn’t match the way his eyes looked broken. "Sure you don't. Newsflash, Y/n—I don't know if your brain was too fried from all the alcohol to remember anything from last night but I was the one who came to pick you up from that sketchy club downtown."

You blinked at him, your hands dropped from your hips to your sides as you stumbled over your own tongue. "What...? What are you...no, Jace took me home—"

"Yeah, Jace," Jake cut you off, throwing his hands up in mock celebration. "Oh great guy, Jace! Except Jace was sound asleep in his dorm with Jungwon all night! It was me, Y/n. I answered your call. I got in my car at midnight, drove twenty minutes downtown and dragged your wasted ass off the sidewalk!"

"You're such a liar," you whispered but you couldn’t ignore the dread you left as you flipped through your drunken memories from last night. "You're lying to make me feel insane—"

"Am I?"

"Do you want me to list everything out for you? Do you want me to remind you how you slurred your words into my shoulder while I carried you up three flights of stairs?"

"Stop it," you pleaded while your chest started to feel tighter. "Jake, stop—"

"You told me all about how I make it hard for you to love me," he just kept going even with pain in his voice vibrating off the walls. "You told me you loved me all the way up to freshman year. You said it, Y/n. You said it right to my face! Mrs Jake Sim"

"Stop!" You screamed and shoved his chest with both hands with enough force to make him step back. Tears of mortification were already spilling over your eyelashes. "You had no right! You had no fucking right to be there! You should have called Jace! You should have left me alone!"

"You called me!" Jake shouted back, throwing his arms wide in complete frustration. "You called my number! And even if you thought you were calling him, what was I supposed to do, Y/n?! Leave you stranded on the side of a dark road in the middle of the night?!"

"Why does everyone in my fucking life act like I'm some kind of monster?!" Jake yelled, his voice cracking down the middle. "Why does Jace and why do you think I'm horrible enough to just leave you stranded out on the road, just helpless for some random guy to pick up?! For fuck's sake, Y/n, no matter how much you hate me, no matter how much shit has gone down—how could you ever think I wouldn't come get you?"

"You are horrible, Jake," you spoke so calmly that it made Jake shiver but he was laughing right after.

"I'm not." He shook his head. "I'm not, Y/n and you know I'm not. If I was really as horrible as you keep pretending I am, you wouldn't have been so in love with me for that long."

Watching your wide eyed reaction, Jake saw the realization hit you like a train but he couldn't stop the dam from bursting. He had kept these poisons locked in his chest for far too long.

"I know I've been a bad person," he started. "I know I've fucked up! I know I've pushed everyone away, I know I've made terrible choices but I am trying, Y/n. I am trying so hard to fix myself and to make things better."

A tear finally escaped his right eye but he didn't even bother to wipe it away.

"Do you have any idea?" he choked out as each breath scraped his lungs. "Do you have any fucking idea how long I've been in love with you? Did Jace ever tell you how I was the one who wanted to take you to the dance? Did he tell you how my whole family basically bullied me out of it?"

Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it felt bruised.

"Did I ever say a single word when you gave Jace all the credit and all your love for that necklace?" Jake continued as his eyes dropped down to your chest where said necklace sat. "The one you still wear around your neck every single day?"

He pointed right at the delicate chain tucked beneath the collar of your shirt.

"I got you that, Y/n." Jake sobbed out softly but a bitter smile was touching his lips as well. "I spent four months saving up my allowance to buy you that thing. I think I actually gave it to your mum but somehow you just assumed it was Jace."

The floor seemed to shift under you suddenly remembered Wednesday in the dining hall, when Jungwon had asked about it and Jace had no memory of buying it when you claimed he did, you had teased him for having such a terrible memory that he couldn't even remember buying his best friend her favorite piece of jewelry.

Except there was no memory for Jace to have, he hadn't forgotten buying it—he had never bought it at all.

It had been Jake. It had always been Jake, standing in the corner, watching you give his brother all the love, all the smiles and all the credit for a gift he took time out to get for you, while he took the blame for being the distant and heartless twin.

You had no idea when you started to sway where you stood but the room was spun sideways as the crippling heaviness of his confession hit you all at once. It was like the narrative you had spent years carefully constructing and believing was crumbling into dust and the next thing you knew he was catching you from falling.

"Woah—hey," Jake breathed out with his voice now filled of protective concern, his hands shot out to catch you by the waist, steadying your weight before you could lose your balance completely. The new proximity was so sudden and when your palms reflexively landed on his broad chest, all you could feel was the erratic beat of his heart.

The heat rolling off him was almost stifling the narrow space between you and when you slowly tilted your head up, your eyes wet with tears met.

Jake was also left in pieces, his eyes were glossy too but also lined with exhaustion and stripped of the usual cocky defiance you were used to. He looked down at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor, like you were his whole world while his thumb was brushing a shaky circle against the side of your waist through the fabric of top.

The silence hanging in the air was so fragile, both of you knew it was stretched to its absolute breaking point but Jake still spoke.

"Please," he started, voice barely louder than a breath. "Please tell me you still love me, Y/n."

You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, Jake Sim loved you? Jake Sim loved you too?

"I—I’ve never stopped loving you."

New tears blurred your vision and poured down your face as you looked up at him through the haze. "You made it so hard, Jake...why did you do that? Why did you love hurting me?"

The heartbreak in your voice knocked the air right out of his lungs and his face contorted into a look of remorse.

"I'm sorry." His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer as if afraid you'd vanish, like his next words would have you leaving. "I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n. I was a child...but that doesn't even excuse a single thing I did. I was a fool. A blind and arrogant fool and I just…I didn't have the maturity to handle what I felt for you, I didn't know how to love you right."

He leaned down and pressed his forehead directly against yours, making you feel his uneven breath fanning over your lips.

"I can make it right," he pleaded in a desperate whisper, using his thumb to brush away a stray tear on your cheek. "I can make it right now, Y/n...if you just let me. Please, just let me."

You had no words left, every wall you had built over the years to keep Jake Sim out was gone, every argument burned away by the passion hanging between you. Your bodies were pressed flush together and his chest was rising and falling against yours with his hands placed tightly to your waist. This was the closest you had ever been to him, way closer than the years of stolen glances, closer than the shared childhood memories, closer than the bitter screams in your memories.

His lips were right there, inching barely a breath away and calling out to you in a way you had spent years trying to ignore and heaven help you, you couldn’t fight your feelings for a single second longer, you leaned up and kissed him.

Jake was immediately inviting, how could he not be? His mouth opening against yours with a starving fervor that made your head spin. His hands slid down to firmly wrap around your thighs, hauling you up just enough that your feet were barely tiptoeing on the hard floor but you were pinned directly into his heat and that’s all he wanted.

The kiss deepened in a matter of seconds, slick with tongue and an eager battle of years of unspoken yearning finally breaking through. When he parted his lips from yours, he dragged his mouth down the sensitive path of your jaw, burying his face into your neck and kissing over your skin, sending a helpless whimper tearing from your throat.

Your impatient self couldn't take the space, you were already reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly into the locks of his hair to forcefully tug his head back up and capture his lips again.

Jake groaned into your mouth and reality crashed over him through the sensory overload, he felt the dangerous momentum building between you two, he really did try to create a inch of distance, his hands shifted to press gently against your shoulders.

"Wait—Y/n, wait," he rasped out, trying to catch his breath. "Let’s—let's just breathe for a second—"

But it seemed like you weren’t having it, you were far too deep, too consumed by the thought of him actually loving you as heartbreakingly as you loved him.

Without pause, you grabbed the hem of your top and yanked it over your head to toss it blindly onto the floor. Before he could even process the sudden flash of your bare skin and commit it to memory, you reached for his shoulders again and jumped this time, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist so he was forced to catch you.

Jake’s arms reacted on pure instinct and his hands shot out to firmly scoop under your thighs, supporting your entire weight as his chest heaved against yours and looked up at you like he was putty in your hands, you could ask the man to kiss your feet right now and he’d do it without thinking.

All you could think of in that moment was how many nights you had spent deep in this exact fantasy. A stray thought crossed your mind—would the girl who had just stormed out get a kick out of finding out that you had always fantasized about Jake, too? That all her cruel insults were useless because you had wanted him just as terribly?

Jake turned and carried you straight down the hallway toward his bedroom, your legs locking firmer around him and your hands buried in his hair. He was fully aware of the sickening irony that you were the second girl he had carried down this exact hall in the space of two hours but as he looked up at you, he knew you were the only one that actually mattered.

When he set you down on the edge of the mattress, his hands lingering on your hips for a fraction of a second before slipping away. He just stood there, just frozen and watching as you kicked off your shoes and shed your jeans. He was totally enthralled by you, taking in every single inch of bare skin like a man seeing water after a lifetime in the desert.

Following your lead, he quickly stripped off his sweatpants. "You're so gorgeous, Y/n." He said to you. "So fucking gorgeous."

He closed the distance between you again, leaning down to capture your mouth in another deep kiss, his hand slid around to your back and his fingers made quick work of your bra clasp. The front popped loose and as his palm immediately cupped your bare breast, his thumb and forefinger lightly pinched your sensitive nipple.

A gasp broke against his lips, one he could feel in his chest. His grip tightened around your waist as he pulled you along with him and sat back on the edge of the bed, guiding you to straddle his lap. As you settled over his thighs, you tried to ignore his bulge poking against your thong, he was already leaning down to bury his face in your chest, taking one of your nipples deep into his mouth.

He sucked it into mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak until your hands scrambled for purchase against his broad shoulders and your back arched further into him. "Mmm Jake." You moaned out, unable to help the way your hips began to roll and tilt over his lap.

Jake grunted against your breast, gripping your thighs to keep encourage your movements, moaning at the feel of your wet folds against the bulge in his boxers. He was about to switch to your other breast but before his mouth could move, your hands shifted up to his shoulders and you firmly pushed him back.

He let himself fall at your will, landing flat against the mattress with a laugh. "Oh, okay," he grunted softly, a smirk full of ecstasy catching the corner of his lips as he looked at you.

You shifted your flimsy thong to the side and you your body turned in his lap, reversing your position so your back was to him. He didn’t get the chance to even ask what you were doing before you were lowering yourself over his face, bringing your wet folds right above him.

Jake’s eyes widened at the view but he quickly regained composure and his hands immediately locked around the sides of your hips and he knew exactly what to do.

He also knew he was amazing at it, too and an arrogant confidence settled into the way his hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

He parted his lips and buried his mouth right into your dripping pussy, wrapping his wet mouth around your swollen folds. The first touch of his tongue sent a shudder straight through you, making you moan instantly.

"Nghh—Jake. Fuck."

He seemed to be taking his time with the way he glided his tongue deliberately around your throbbing clit, setting a steady gentle tug that made your hands scramble wildly for purchase against his knees and the sheets. The heat of his mouth was utter torture, every flick of his tongue kept hitting the exact right spot, precisely driving you over the edge until your hips began to roll helplessly against his lips and you were riding his face not even caring if you smothering the man.

Jake was just as drunk on the pleasure as you were, so lost in the scent and taste of you as you rode his face, also not caring that you were smothering him. His hands dug firmly into the plush of your thighs and add, holding you down against his mouth as his tongue worked in the best strokes you’d ever felt.

"Ohh shit! J—Jake!" You sobbed out. "Mmm yes."

He met every roll of your hips with long, wet licks, sealing his lips tightly around your swollen folds. Every time he got a moan out of you, he vibrated a muffled chuckle straight into your skin, just loving every second of how you were using him. He loved the total weight of your body pressing over him, loved the helpless way your thighs shook against his ears and he loved knowing that every winded gasp echoing through his bedroom was because of his mouth.

"God, fuck...you taste so good, Y/n," Jake said against your wetness. "So fucking good for me."

Overwhelmed by the fervor, you tried to reach down for the waistband of his boxers. "Need...need yo—," You attempted to speak but your words were cut off when he wrapped his lips around your clit and started to suck just like he did your nipple.

You hooked your fingers under the elastic and dragged his boxers down just far enough to free his thick length. You were totally driven by the desire to drive him just as crazy as he was driving you, you adjusted and lowered your head down toward his lap to take his cock into your mouth. But the moment the warm head brushed past your lips and tasted his precum, Jake swirled his tongue directly over your clit again and your entire train of thought shattered.

"Oh god Jake! Your tongue—! Ahah—!" You cried but your voice was muffled with his shaft slipped into your mouth.

The pleasure was simply too much for you to function, so you ended up just resting your lips over the head of cock. “Mmmph...Jake, you’re gonna make me cum,” you whined softly around him, not able to actually suck him off the way you intended because your mind was far too fractured. You just hovered there, moaning and trembling, letting your hot mouth wrap around his tip while you rode the wave of agony his tongue was pounding into you.

Jake let out a moan of his own into your folds as your moans vibrated directly against his cock. His hips twitched up beneath you, his nails curled into the softness of your thighs while he picked up the pace.

"It’s okay, love. You don’t have to suck it, just moan around it." You heard him say. "Mhmm, just like that. Let me feel you."

He shifted his focus to your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the swollen knot in fast licks that grew sharper and faster with every second.

"Jake—Jake, stop, wait—!" You wailed sitting up as your whole body started to shake cause you were right at the verge of cumming. "I'm—ah!"

He realized you were about to try to run away so he held on tighter as your back arched and your thighs trembled uncontrollably against his head.

"Can I put a finger inside you?" Jake asked you but the tone of his voice made you completely freeze up.

There was no suave or cocky authority in it. It was thick with desperation in a way you hadn’t expected.

"Please, Y/n," His whines were softly muffled against your pussy and a small, pathetic sound caught in his throat as his forehead pressed hard against your hip. "Fuck...please? Just one. Let me..."

You gasped, the shock of it really cut through your pleasure. For years, you had built up this image of Jake in your head—imagining that if he ever got you into his bed, he would be completely in control, demanding and just ruthlessly dominant. But here he was, literally squirming beneath you, with his voice high and breathless while he begged for your permission like a boy who couldn't bear the thought of taking a single thing without you giving it to him first.

A squeal tore from your throat. "Yes! Yes, Jake, please—"

The moment the words left your mouth, he let out a needy breath of relief and not wanting to waste another second, he slid a thick finger deep into your tight heat.

"Ah! Jake! More!"

"God, you're so damn tight...fuck," Jake said, his other hand trembling as he began curling his finger downward, desperately seeking out that one spot inside you.

He didn't hold back at all, already pumping his finger in and out in deep thrusts, opening you up and working you until your pussy gushed wet heat all over his hand. The whimpering noises he made against your skin were unhinged, he was practically sobbing into your core as his tongue lapped up every single drop of slick pouring out of you while he continued to finger you. He moved his tongue on your clit, turning your moans and cries into music like he was begging you with every stroke to just let him give you more.

Before you could even catch your breath or get used to the finger inside you, Jake slid a second finger right beside the first.

"Jake…that’s..hmmm yes!"

He pumped them in and out so good, crooking them downward to hit places deep inside you that you couldn't possibly reach on your own. Every targeted thrust had you bucking against his face, losing your mind over the depth he was reaching.

Driven completely out of his mind too, Jake latched back onto your clit again, harder this time like he had forgone all restraint. He was gloriously messy about it, sucking hard, spitting and slurping at your swollen pussy with loud, wet noises that bounced around the room. A continuous moan coiled straight from his throat directly into your pussy as your wetness gushed freely, running down his jaw and dripping onto his neck.

He pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, but instantly replaced them with his tongue. He thrust it deep inside your entrance, curling and working it to stretch your pussy as far as it would go, mimicking the exact rhythm of his fingers while his hands clamped onto your hips to keep you still.

In the blinding veil of it all, you managed to lift your heavy eyelids open and through your blurry vision, you looked down past your chest to find Jake’s hips twitching involuntarily against the mattress, his thighs shook with every stroke he gave you. His hard cock was twitching against air, unattended with steady stream of precum leaking from the tip and making a path down a prominent vein.

He was so overtaken by giving you pleasure that his own body was weeping for relief, yet completely at your mercy. You watched with lust as he shifted his heels firmly into the mattress, digging them in as his hips began to thrust up into the bare air.

Watching him twitch and squirm beneath you was intoxicating and driven by curiosity and a sudden surge of power, you reached down to wrap both of your hands tightly around his leaking cock.

"Ahhh—no, please—!" Jake yelled into your pussy, his whole body jerked at the sudden contact and his hands tightened on your hips so hard his knuckles turned white. "Y/n, fuck, don't—"

But you didn't listen, you twisted and pumped your hands over his slick length, establishing a tight rhythm. The combination of your hands working his shaft and the taste of you on his tongue threatened to send him completely over the edge. His tongue started faltering, like he was losing all focus, even starting to slur unintelligible words directly against your wet folds.

"Oh...shi—, Y/n...please..." He begged but his hips were thrusting upward directly into your grip and he was chasing the friction of your palms with needy little twitches.

You were simply amazed at the sight, the sight of this loud, guarded, stubborn guy completely unraveling in your hands, whimper for whimper, totally at your mercy. He was so close, he knew he as and he couldn’t stop his core from shaking as he bucked into your touch.

"I'm—I'm gonna cum—Stop! Shit, Y/n, I'm gonna cum! P—Please!" He cried out and before he could let go completely, he suddenly grabbed your wrists and stopped your pumping hands in their tracks with a harsh tug.

He was flipping you over quickly and the world spun as he manhandled you onto your back, pinning your wrists beside your head as his bigger frame settled over yours.

He closed his eyes for a painful minute, the he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, letting out a low stream of curses into your skin, every muscle in his shoulders locked tight as he fought back the edge he had almost tumbled over.

"Fuck...fuck," he groaned in a shaky voice. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to look into yours with nothing but desperation. "I was so fucking close...but I can't. I want to make love to you first, Y/n. Please? Can I please?"

You didn't answer with words, you reached down between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his pulsing cock to line the thick head directly against your drenched hole.

Jake gasped at the sensation, his hips twitching forward but as his hand moved down to shove your thong further out of the way, the thin lace gave out under his eager grip, tearing down the middle with a loud rip.

He paused for a second, looking at the torn fabric hanging in his hand. "Oh...I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking back up at you but the expression on his face completely betrayed him—his eyes were blown out with lust and a faint smirk tugged at his lips that showed he wasn't really sorry at all.

Before you could scold him for it, he grounded his hands firmly into the mattress on either side of your head, resting the hot tip of his cock against your entrance, his jaw clenching as he slowly began to push inside.

"Jake...mmh, wait—it's so big..."

The moment the words hit his ears, Jake had to tightly shut his eyes again. "Don't—fuck, Y/n, don't say that," he pleaded with a voice so strained as he fought the urge to just slam all the way home.

Realizing how tight you were around him, he forced his hips to stay still for a moment and reached down between your bodies, using his thumb to find your swollen clit and began to rub soothing circles against it, deliberately trying to coax your body into relaxing for him.

"Breathe for me, love," he whispered against your skin, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips, then to your cheeks and down to the corner of your jaw.

As your body melted under his touch and the tension in your thighs began to give way, Jake took advantage of the shift, groaning low in his chest and slowly pushing the rest of his cock all the way inside your tight pussy, burying himself to the hilt.

The sheer feeling of him stretching you to your absolute limit was overwhelming and every small shift of his hips brought another helpless whine spilling from your lips.

"Jake, fuck...it’s too big," you repeated, your fingers dug into his shoulders as your breath hitched in your chest. "You’re so...ah, Jake...Mm my pussy."

Jake gave a tormented grunt, trying to pull back just an inch to establish a new pace but your walls were clamped so tightly around his length that he could barely move.

"Y/n, shhh—fuck, stop whining like that." His words choked him. He buried his face into your neck again, like he was fighting for control. "You’re so fucking tight, love...I swear to God, if you keep making those noises, I’m gonna cum right now."

He managed to stay completely still for a second, locking his hips flush against yours while his breath came out hot against your skin, he was trying with everything in him not to lose his mind inside you before he even truly started.

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, blurring the sight of him as he finally established a deep pace. The sheer size of him, mixed with how deep he was sinking into you with every roll of his hips, made your head spin.

"Jake...fuck," you moaned out as you looked up at him. "You’re—you’re in my stomach..."

Jake’s eyes snapped to yours, suddenly drunk on how vocal you were being for him. A possessive spark lit up his face. "Where?" he asked, pausing his hips for a second but making sure he was deep. "Where, my love? Show me."

Shaking uncontrollably, you lifted one hand from his shoulder and pointed to the lower curve of your belly, right where you could feel the solid pressure of his cock stretching you.

A melting look softened his sharp features and a breathless coo escaped his lips as he looked down at your hand. "Right there, doll? Hmm? I'm right there?"

You gave a quick nod, so pathetic while your bottom lip trembled as more tears ran down your face.

"Fuck, you're so sweet for me," Jake was undone by the sight and now driven by the urge to get even deeper, he

reached down and grabbed your ankles, hauling your legs up and tossing them directly over his shoulders.

The new angle opened you up completely, plunging him straight to your absolute limit in one sharp, powerful thrust.

"Oh my god! Jake! I—I can’t!" The new depth hit the sensitive sweet spot inside you that Jake had been looking for.

"Mm? You like that?" Jake growled out, a triumphant smile catching on his lips as he picked up the pace a little more. His broad palms slammed flat against the mattress beside your head and his hips thrusted into you with a faster pace, every deep stroke brought out even louder moans that drove him out of his mind.

"I want to cum...fuck, Jake, I want to cum so bad!"

The unbearable coil in your lower belly tightened to a breaking point and driven wild by the deep pounding, your hand scurried down between your sweaty bodies. Your fingers found your swollen clit and started rubbing fast circles over the tender nub. That made your walls clamp down on his cock harder, literally sucking him deeper with every involuntary pulse.

Every nerve ending in his body screamed at him to just let go and cum inside your pussy right then and there.

"God—You’re driving me crazy, Y/n."

He dug his knees into the mattress, the muscles in his shoulders and thighs locked up as he fought with everything in him to keep his own orgasm at bay. He refused to end it yet, too intoxicated on the sight of you taking him so well, too addicted to the unfiltered sound of your moans and the loud slapping of your bodies colliding together.

"That's it, love…mmhm take it," he grunted through his gritted teeth, pushing his hips forward in intentional grinds that pushed your fingers directly into your clit. "Cum for me. Come on. Let go."

The unrelenting pressure inside you snapped all at once and a gasp was caught in your throat as your orgasm shattered through you like an earthquake. Your pussy walls contracted so tightly and with so much force, that you practically expelled his cock, pushing him back out of your entrance as your whole body arched off the bed.

Jake let out a startled noise, eyes dropping down to look between your legs where your pussy was pulsing in hard waves and your folds were fluttering, literally soaking the mattress beneath you in hot gushes that spurt freely over his thighs and the rumpled sheets.

"Fuck...fuck, Y/n." Jake gasped out, awestruck as he stared down at the wet mess you were making all over his bed.

"Hmm...no, don't look!" You squealed, as embarrassment suddenly washed over you, you threw both hands over your eyes, trying to hide your face from his gaze.

"Don't look?" Jake echoed but his voice was so dark with possessive satisfaction that you had to look at him. "God, I am so fucking in love with you. Look what you did to my bed, love."

You couldn’t even offer him another word of defense or tell him that you loved him too, he had grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. You gasped as he gathered your hips, pulling your lower body back to bring your trembling thighs flush against his.

Then he guided his thickness right back against your pussy. "Look at you hiding your face like you didn't just wreck me."

He was already thrusting and pulling you back to meet him. "Oh fuck mr! Jaeyun! Yes yes yes!" You screamed into the pillow.

Jaeyun?

Now that he had already seen you completely unravel, all his restraint was gone. His grip on your waist got tighter and began pounding into you with a powerful rhythm. Every thrust was harder, faster and deeper than before, the wet slapping sound of his hips against your ass hit your ears as he took you over and over again.

"I love you, Y/n." Jake grunted right against the shell of your ear. He slammed forward, his hips drove his fat cock straight into exactly where you needed it. "Fuck...I love you so much."

You couldn't even form proper sentences anymore, your body was reacting on pure instinct and your tight walls were pumping slick cream all over his shaft with every single hit.

"Oh godddd! Jaaaake!" Your hands clawed at the sheets beneath you. "Right there—fuck, right there Jake!"

"I'm so fucking in love with you, baby...I can't even think straight..." He pulled your body up so your back was to his chest and his palm was pressed to your belly, right where he could feel his cock thrusting into you.

The confession plus the blinding sensation of his cock grinding against your sweet spot, broke down whatever remaining barrier you had left.

"I love you too!" You threw your head back against his shoulder. "I love you, Jake! Ah—!" "You—You’re going to make me cum again!"

Hearing those words spill from your lips was the final straw for Jake, he gave one last guttural sound from the back of his throat, his grip tightened around your stomach as he placed kisses and bites on your neck, his thrusts turned fast and unhinged as he chased his own final peak right along with you.

He grabbed you by your hair and slammed you down into the pillows, pinning your face firmly as he delivered his final thrusts. The possessive weight of his hand held you completely anchored, leaving you helpless under his hips.

"Cum with me, love." "Fuck...cum on this cock right now. Please."

"Yes! Yes, Jake!" You responded, sliding your arm between your wet thighs, you pressed your palm flat against your swollen clit, slapping and grinding against the swollen knot.

The visual shattered whatever fragile hold Jake had left, watching your hand work wildly over your clit while he pounded into you, mixed with the tight spasms of your walls suddenly clamping down around him again, it all pushed him right over the cliff.

"Fuck—! Y/n!" Jake roared, his entire body locking up, he slammed his hips all the way forward and shoved his thick length to the absolute hilt deep inside your pulsing pussy. His chest heaved as he came violently, an endless torrent filling you up completely as your body shuddered under his. His grip on the back of your head softened into a tender hold, his forehead dropped to the pillow beside your head as you both rode out the overwhelming waves of your shared release.

Jake collapsed over you, carefully keeping most of his weight propped up on his forearms, refusing to crush you. His skin sweaty just like yours and when he shifted his weight, reaching down to wrap a thick arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest because he wanted nothing more than to hold you close while your heartbeats slowed together.

"Hey..." he called out to you and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Don't." you choked out, pressing your hands hard against his broad chest.

Jake’s heart almost stopped beating. He looked down at you and his brow squeezed together in instant confusion. "Y/n...?"

As the feverish haze of the moment rapidly cleared, the air in the room suddenly turned cold and when he looked down into your face, he didn't see the soft look of someone who had just confessed their love. He saw the sudden panic and a crushing look of regret staring back at him and a sharp spike of fear shot straight through Jake's chest,

"No...no, wait," he muttered, watching as you forcefully pushed yourself up off the mattress, breaking away from his touch as if his skin burned you. "Y/n, baby please wait,"

"Don’t—Don’t call me that, Jake. We...God, we shouldn't have done that."

"What?" Jake sat up instantly, not knowing what to do while you searched the room for your discarded clothes . "Y/n, what are you talking about?"

You didn't look at him, your hands were trembling so badly you could barely function as you frantically searched the floor, snatching up your shirt and scrambling to pull the pieces of your clothes together.

"This was a mistake," you whispered. "Jake, I...I have to go."

"Y/n, stop! Please, talk to me!" Jake panicked, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and quickly pulling his boxers on. His eyes were wide and terrified as he realized you were pulling your clothes back on, the confident, loving man from seconds ago entirely shattered by the sudden distance between you.

"Look at me! Please, don't just leave like this—what do you mean a mistake?"

"I mean we shouldn’t have had sex!" You blurted out loudly, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your top. The panic in your chest was consuming, making your hands shake so badly you could barely button it. "Oh God...what would Jace say?"

Jake went completely still. "What?" Jake asked in disbelief. "Jace? What the fuck does Jace have to do with this?"

You didn't answer, you just couldn't, so you grabbed your shoes from the floor, desperate to reach the door and escape the room. But before you could take two steps, Jake moved, stepping directly into your path, using his hands to grip your shoulders gently and blocking the doorway. His touch wasn't forceful but it was solid enough to ground you and stop your escape in its tracks.

"Y/n, stop. Just—please, calm down for a second so I can speak." He pleaded, eyes searching yours. He took a deep breath, sliding his hands down to wrap around your trembling wrists.

"Look, I know I sound like a broken fucking record by now," Jake started, "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yes, I know we shouldn't have just had sex right now. I know the timing is fucked up and I know everything between us is so complicated. But I can't take it back, Y/n. And...Fuck me, I'm not even sure I would take it back."

You were already starting to cry again.

"I know I can't ever take back the things I've done to hurt you," Jake continued, softly stroking over the pulse points on your wrists with his thumbs. "I know I fucked up in the past. But by God, Y/n...I want to try. I want to learn how to love you the way you actually deserve to be loved. I'm so done running from this." He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw as he addressed the name hanging like a rainy cloud between you.

"And Jace?" Jake said softly, looking straight into your eyes without flinching. "I know he's going to have his reservations. I know he's going to hate me and I know he's going to try and protect you from me. And I'm ready for that. I'm ready to deal with whatever Jace throws at me because losing you again? Not fighting for you right now? That's the only thing in this whole fucked up world that actually scares the shit out of me."

The tears welling in your eyes fell down your cheeks and Jake’s thumb quickly brushed them away. His own eyes were glossy as he continued to speak.

"I know I can't fix everything in a day, or a week, or a month," he whispered. "I know it might take a whole fucking year—or longer. But however long it takes for me to make it up to you, Y/n...I'm here. I'm not going anywhere this time. I am fucking anchored to you."

He took a shaky, ragged breath, his broad palms rising to cup the sides of your face, holding you like you were made of glass, like he was terrified that one wrong move would cause you to shatter right through his fingers.

"I've been in love with you my whole life," Jake confessed, "I know this is what I want. I've always known. I want the fight, I want the mess, I want every single piece of you. But...if you don't want this? If being with me hurts too much, if looking at me just reminds you of everything I broke...I'll understand. I'll step back and let you hate me."

You stood utterly frozen in his hold, the violent trembling of your shoulders slowing as his words settled deep into your chest. You looked up into the dark depths of his eyes.

Through the wet sheen of your tears, the light caught a warmth in your expression, there was something undeniable and overflowing in it, like a quiet truth you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

Just pure love.

Jake's eyes widened as he caught it and his grip on your jaw tightened just a fraction, his heart hammered in his chest as he waited on the cusp of his entire life. Your lips parted and a ruined gasp left them as you opened your mouth to finally give him your answer—

‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒⊹

The fabric of the silk floor length gown, the jaw dropping piece you knew for a fact had cost more than your entire university tuition, courtesy of Jake’s ridiculously deep pockets, well it was currently bunched in heavy folds around your waist.

Instead of walking out the door toward the car, you were pressed flat against the back of the small sofa in the entryway, your heels digging uselessly into the rug as Jake buried his face between your bare thighs.

"Jake—fuck, stop!" You gasped out, your fingers tangling frantically in his styled hair. "We don't...Oh fuck—! We don't have time for this!"

He didn't listen, apparently sight of you stepping out in the backless dress had wiped his composure off the map and now his hands were locked around your thighs, holding you pinned while his tongue lapped relentlessly at your dripping center.

Every time you tried to push him away, he’d flick his tongue just right over your clit, turning your stern protests into embarrassingly pathetic moans that were music to his ears.

"I'm serious!" You whimpered, your head falling back against the cushion as a heavy surge of heat coiled low in your belly. "Jace and...oh God, Jace and Jungwon are going to kill us if we're late for their anniversary dinner!"

A low vibration hummed straight against your wet folds as he chuckled and the vibration alone sent a shudder straight to your belly.

"I’ll handle them," Jake’s voice came out completely muffled, his words slurred against your drenched skin before he clamped his lips over your clit and sucked hard, letting go cause he just couldn’t shut up. "They can wait...you look too fucking good to leave this room..."

He flicked his tongue deep into your entrance, tasting the slick mess he was making of you, his hands pushed harder into your hips to pull you even closer into his mouth, just indifferent to the clock ticking down on the wall.

His tongue got messier, slicker and even ruthless, sending wet licks all the way up to your clit before dragging his tongue straight back down into your tight entrance and shoving it in.

"Jake, nooo—your shirt!" You tried to remind him as you felt the crisp cotton of his dress shirt against your inner thighs. "You're gonna ruin it, baby, come on—"

"Don't give a fuck," he grunted out against your skin, not slowing down at all.

His mouth went completely wild, lapping at you with heavy, frantic strokes as he used his grip on your waist to guide you into riding his lips.

The angle was lethal, your heel clad feet were kicking in the air from the pleasure and as you dug your fingers deep into his scalp to keep yourself steady, the small band of the gold promise ring he’d given you for your six month anniversary pressed firmly into his skin. The subtle bite of the metal seemed to turn him on even more and a low groan rumbled through his chest.

A breathless smile broke across your face, followed by a helpless little giggle as the pleasure began to build in your belly.

"Jake...oh God, it feels so good," you whimpered out, your hips rolling helplessly over his tongue. "I'm—I'm gonna cum, Jake, I'm so close!"

"Mmh I know, baby. Cum on my face," he encouraged, squeezing your hips to keep you riding his mouth through the rising tide.

Your back arched as a breathless cry tore through you, your whole body trembling as a drenching climax crashed over you. Your inner walls fluttered desperately, flooding his mouth with your sweet release.

Jake didn't miss a single drop, holding you firm and humming in satisfaction as he greedily licked up every trace of your orgasm, lapping at your sensitive folds until you were completely weak and breathlessly melting back into the sofa cushions.

He grinned up at you from his position on the floor, then he stood up to help you slide your panties back up over your legs, smoothing the delicate fabric over your hips with entirely too much care. But the second they were in place, his palm came down with a stinging slap right against your ass.

"Hmm...mine," he rumbled with a smug grin.

Before you could swat his hand away, he was kissing your lips and taking your hand to his hair so you could tug at his hair just the way he likes. But as your fingers tangled into his locks and his tongue parted your lips, your thoughts drifted backward, sinking deep into the blurred timeline of the past year.

It really hadn't changed overnight.

Those first few months had been a delicate tightrope. As expected, Jace had been violently skeptical, refusing to even sit in the same room as Jake without a tense silence filling the air. There were nights you spent crying, terrified out of your mind that loving Jake meant losing Jace forever. But slowly, so painfully slowly, they had started the long process of repairing what had been broken. It wasn't perfect but the wall between the twins was finally coming down, inch by inch.

Your mind flashed back to the day you finally sat down with their family, terrifyingly nervous, to announce that you and Jake were officially together. You had prepared a whole speech, only for their mom to look up from her tea, roll her eyes dramatically and mutter, "Finally. It only took you two a decade." Before giving you a hug.

When Jake’s tongue brushed against yours, you remembered last summer at the Sim lake house. With the heat, the smell of pine and freshwater, the endless sound of laughter echoing off the dock with Jace, Jake, Sloane, Jungwon, and even Jay. You had spent the days swimming until your skin burned and lounging in the sun, surrounded by the people who mattered the most.

Jake really couldn't keep his hands off you for more than a few hours at a time that entire week. The memory of him sneaking you away from the group to drag you behind the boat house or locking the door to the guest cabin, just to push your sundress up or shift your bikini bottoms out of the way and bend you over whatever surface was closest because he was so starved for you.

You moaned into his mouth, kissing him deeper as you remembered the morning after one particularly loud night in the cabin, sitting at the breakfast table while Jay and Sloane relentlessly teased you about the wooden bed frame creaking through the thin walls until sunrise. Before you could die of embarrassment, Jake had just casually raised an eyebrow as he poured his coffee, instantly turning the blame on his twin and his boyfriend, claiming they were the ones keeping the whole house up with their own late night activities. The sheer chaos that exploded at the table after that had given you both just enough time to slip away unnoticed again.

"See? Perfect," Jake bragged, breaking the kiss and snapping you out of your head, pointing to his spotless shirt. "Didn't ruin it at all. You worried for nothing, baby."

"You are unbelievable," you muttered, rolling your eyes but the softness in your chest from every memory brought you right back to him, grounding you completely in the present.

Jake just chuckled, stepping in close to wrap his arms around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest and leaned down, pressing another lingering kiss directly to your lips and now that you weren’t elsewhere you could taste yourself on his lips.

"I love you," he whispered against your mouth, his eyes softening into that warm, devoted look that always made your chest ache.

"I love you too," you murmured back, then he leaned back with a dangerously playful spark lighting up his eyes. A smirk spread across his face as he offered you his arm.

"Shall we...Mrs. Jake Sim?"

Your jaw dropped. "Jake! Stop!" you squeaked out, smacking his shoulder in pure embarrassment as you tried to hide your face from him. "Stop teasing me with that! Oh my God, I was like six!"

"What? It's a nice name," he teased, laughing softly as he caught your hand and kissed your knuckles then your wrist, definitely enjoying how flustered you were over the childhood nickname you used to call yourself. "Okay, okay, I'll stop."

He offered you his arm again, leading you out the door toward his car but as you stepped into the hallway, a quiet determination settled deep in his chest.

Until I make it true, he thought to himself.

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© nephynes 2025

Over the next few days, he starts noticing things he has no reason to notice. That you get to class twelve minutes before lectures start everyday, always through the east entrance, near the nurse's, which is the reason he started taking that route too, he can't even convince himself otherwise.

He notices that you like to bite your lip or repeatedly click your pen when you're thinking. That Heeseung walks you to your first class every morning and kisses you at the door.

Sunoo grabs a snack, around that time usually and watches the vending machine glass instead of watching you. It's easier that way. The glass gives him a version of it that's smaller, dimmer, a reflection instead of the thing itself, and at least it makes it somehow bearable.

He unwraps the pretzel but doesn't eat it. Down the hall, he hears your laugh again, the kind he's been trying to earn a single real version of and has only gotten close to twice. Heeseung gets it without asking.

Gets it the way people get weather, or gravity. A thing that simply happens to be there, that costs nothing to receive because it was never earned in the first place. Sunoo throws the pretzel out on his way to class. Wrapper and all. He tells himself it's only because he isn't hungry anymore, but deep down he feels the effect of a feeling he refuses to acknowledge.

A few weeks pass and your birthday rolls around. The opportunity finds him, or maybe he finds it, he isn't sure which version is true. He's in the art room after hours, the one place he's ever felt like himself, a second home at this point. When suddenly, he hears voices down the hall.

Yours, and Heeseung's, and something in your voice he's never heard before, pure anger and exhaustion. The sound of an argument already three rounds deep.

"Babe, I'm sorry…I just-"

"You forgot my birthday, this isn't just something you can bring up excuses for."

"I said I was sorry..."

Sunoo should not be listening. He knows that much but doesn't stop anyway. He sets down his pencil very quietly, like the sound of his scribbling could somehow give him away through the closed door.

"I just think if you actually thought about me for like five minutes a day instead of your fucking practice then-"

"Oh come on, that's not fair," he groans.

"Babe are you being serious right now?" The voices move off down the hall, and Sunoo sits there with his heart going too fast. So Heeseung forgot. He forgot you. He knows that if it were him, he would never forget.

That's not something he can even think to do. He knows the exact date of your birthday because you mentioned it once in passing, weeks ago, not even to him, to Jungwon actually, and he had simply been standing close enough to hear it and had mentally noted it down.

But Sunoo didn't really know if it was appropriate of him to get you a gift since you were only classmates. Not until now.

He stays in the art room for another hour after your footsteps fade. Doesn't touch the assignment he came in for. Instead he pulls out a fresh canvas, the good kind, the kind he rations for pieces that matter, and starts mixing colors he hasn't used in a while.

He knows exactly what he wants without having to think about it. The courtyard fountain. You had said it was your favorite place on campus. And he wanted to give you something special which is why he settled on it, but this time? Golden hour, the light you get around 12 PM that he's spent months studying without ever quite explaining to himself why.

He works fast and carefully at once, and it takes him until almost 9 PM. He doesn't notice the time passing. He never does, when it comes to you.

The next morning he gets to the east entrance early, earlier than usual, before Heeseung's car door slams in the lot, before the vending machine even matters. He finds you at your locker alone, headphones in. It looks like you haven't talked to anyone yet today and might not want to. You take one earbud out when you see him.

"Hey Sunoo, what's up?"

"Hey." He holds out the small paper bag, folded at the top. "For you” he smiles, “Happy birthday...sorry i'm late."

You blink at it. "How'd you-"

"Jungwon mentioned it," he says, easy and practiced.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like so I painted what reminded me of you the most." You open the bag slow, careful with it like you already suspect it's something fragile.

When you see the painting your whole face lights up. And he knows right then and there that it's an expression he's going to replay for a very long time. Surprise first, then something quieter underneath it. "Sunoo…" You look up at him.

"This is…this is beautiful, I-..." You stop yourself. "It's just nobody remembered yesterday. Not ev-..." You don't finish that sentence either, but you don't have to.

He already knows exactly who you're talking about. "It's nothing really," he says, even though it's the furthest thing from nothing. He has no idea that this is one of the kindest gestures anyone has ever done for you.

All your friends have only ever gotten you gifts they thought you'd love based on price tags, or an online trend. Never something as sentimental as this.

You're still looking at the painting, something raw in your voice that wasn't there a second ago. "You even got the time of day right. I love this so much" You laugh, almost disbelieving.

"How do you even paint something as beautiful as this?" Because I've done nothing but notice what you like, he doesn't say. "I just thought you might like it," he laughs nervously.

You look up at him, longer than you ever have, and something passes over your face. He doesn't know what name to put on it quite yet. It's not what he's felt looking at you all this time, but close enough in shape that his chest squeezes hopefully. He doesn't ask about Heeseung. Doesn't have to. He can already see the comparison sitting behind your eyes, unspoken but forming.

"Thank you Sunoo," you say, quietly. "Really, this means so much to me." A sad smile spreads across your face. You stand to pull him in for a hug. He freezes for half a second before his arms find their way around you, Sunoo's all tense and nervous, though you don't seem to notice, or well, perhaps you're just kind enough to pretend you don't.

You smell like you always do, the sweet scent he's never been close enough to fully appreciate, and his heart is hammering violently and stupidly against his ribs. He's imagined this.

More times than he'd ever admit out loud. But imagining things and having them are apparently not the same category of feeling at all, because his whole body goes warm in a way no drawing could ever prepare him for.

Finally

Something in him says, quiet and a little frightening in how much relief is packed into one word. You pull back first and he lets you, even though he'd rather stay here longer. "Sorry," you say, laughing a little, wiping quickly under your eye like you're embarrassed to have gotten emotional over a painting. "I don't know why that got to me so much."

"It's okay," he says, his voice coming out softer.

You're looking back down at the painting carefully, like you're deciding where it's going to live, a wall? Perhaps a desk?, just somewhere it'll be seen every day, and Sunoo stands there with his arms still faintly warm from where you were, thinking that he would give up every other thing he's ever wanted just to be the reason you look that happy again.

He doesn't say any of it. He just watches you tuck the painting carefully into its bag, and thinks, with a kind of brutal honesty that sits at odds with his morals.

I could give her so much more than this, if she'd just let me.

Sunoo doesn't remember walking to class. He's aware, vaguely, of the lecture ending at some point and his body carrying him through the hallway, but none of it registers the way it normally would. He can't get you out of his fucking head.

The hug replays in his mind over and over again, frame by frame to the point that he feels like he's going insane. He sits through the rest of his lectures without hearing a word of them. Jungwon leans over at one point, murmurs something about the assignment, and Sunoo nods like he's listening even though his mind is still back there with you, at your locker.

He thinks about Heeseung finding out you cried over a painting from a guy that isn't him, and something ugly and satisfied moves through his chest before he can stop it. He hates himself for that too, hates it enough that he presses the heel of his hand against his eye like he can push the thought back down through sheer pressure.

‘You're not a good person for wanting this’ the thought echoes through his head, ‘You know that, right?’ He stares ahead because he doesn't have an answer. It's an awful feeling honestly, especially when he searches himself for the guilt that's supposed to come with it, automatically and immediately, and instead has to go looking for it. It's there, he feels it, except it's quieter than the other thing, smaller…losing.

Sunoo heads to a quiet corner on campus and spends the rest of the day drawing your hands again, the ones that were just around his back. He doesn't let himself think about why that specifically, is the thing his pencil wants. And at lunch, he doesn't go to the cafeteria. He can't, not today. Some instinct tells him that if he watches you and Heeseung right now, with the memory of your arms still fresh enough to feel, he won't be able to keep his face doing what it's supposed to do.

He eats alone by the library instead, sketchbook closed, he doesn't open it once. Already knowing exactly what's on every page, and it's the first time in months he's sat with you in his head and done nothing with his hands at all.

Heeseung on the other hand knows he messed up. He's known it since the second the words left your mouth in the hallway. Since before that, really… Since he'd checked his phone at 11pm the night of your birthday and seen your name in his notifications with a message he hadn't opened three hours earlier, something small and hopeful. And he only understood what he'd missed once it was already too late to fix it.

He's not an idiot. He knows the difference between an excuse and a reason. And he knows that telling you that it was because of his practice running late, is just another excuse dressed up as a reason. He sits in his car in the parking lot longer than he needs to, engine off, phone in his lap, trying to figure out what to say that isn't just another version of sorry because he's said that one twice already, and watched how horribly you took it.

The truth, if he's honest with himself, is that he's tired in a way he doesn't know how to explain to you without sounding like he's making it about him.

The responsibilities that come with his role were sometimes too much to handle. Training in the mornings, reviews at lunch, the coach riding him about how the juniors needed more practice. Then, on top of all of that. Squeezing in some study time, a job, a social life and a girlfriend. Some days it feels like there's no version of himself left over once all of that's been taken care of.

He knows that's not your fault. He knows it doesn't excuse forgetting your birthday either. Both things are true but he hasn't figured out yet how to hold them at the same time without one of them winning.

He'd wanted to get you something good. Had a plan, actually. The necklace from the shop downtown you'd pointed at once, so casually he wasn't even sure you remembered saying it, though he had remembered.

He tries his best to keep track of your likes and interests even though he feels like he could be much better if he didn't have so much on his plate.

He'd meant to go that Tuesday to get the necklace. Practice ran to seven and when he got out the shop was closed, by the time he remembered again it was already your birthday and already too late to make it feel like anything but scrambling.

He gets out of the car eventually.

Doesn't go looking for you, figures you need space, and for once tries to actually give it to you instead of just saying he will. He sees the painting later. Someone mentions it, off-hand, the way things get mentioned on campus and everyone starts talking about it.

“Did you see what he made her? Insane, right?” He overhears a group of people talking amongst themselves and something in Heeseung's chest goes tight. He tells himself it's not a competition, that a nice painting doesn't mean anything, showing up every day for two years means more than one good gesture at the right moment, that you know that too, underneath whatever you're feeling right now.

He still buys the necklace that Thursday, three days late. But doesn't know how to give it to you…

During lunch, Sunoo's at his usual table by the window, it's where he always sits, because the lighting's good there, is what he tells Jungwon. He tries not to notice Heeseung walking up to your table but his eyes follow his movements anyway. There's something small in his hand, he observes. Sunoo's fork stops halfway to his mouth as a bad feeling creeps up on him.

He watches you notice him first, the way your face does something guarded, still a little raw from three days ago, arms crossed before you've even decided to be defensive.

Heeseung says something Sunoo can't hear through the glass. You don't answer right away. Then he holds it out. A small box, baby blue ribbon on a pastel pink. Sunoo's stomach does something ugly. He knows what's inside before you open it. Somehow, he remembers. And he's right, because when the lid comes up there's a thin gold chain catching the cafeteria light, a diamond star glimmering under the sunlight.

Your hand goes to your mouth, and even from here, even through glass, he can see exactly what your face is doing. Sunoo heard you mention the necklace once, weeks ago in the art room, mentioned so lightly he almost hadn't caught it.

You were on the phone with your friend, who lives abroad, catching up on life while you and Sunoo painted a landscape for your assignments. “I saw this necklace downtown, I probably won't ever get it, it was like- quite expensive” you laughed, “I'm saving up now so i'm trying to be sensible about my spending habits but it was soooo pretty” He'd stored that info away. And apparently so had Heeseung, Sunoo didn't know that until exactly this moment, watching it undo three days of ground he thought he'd quietly gained.

If only he'd known...

He puts his fork down, appetite already ruined. Your arms uncross and that completely shatters him. Your shoulders dropping, the whole guarded shape of you softening in real time because Heeseung remembered one off-hand thing you said once and turned it into gold.

Sunoo painted you a fountain. Painted you a tangible expression of his feelings towards you. And it worked, it mattered for a bit, he watched it matter on your face at the locker.

But a necklace is fast. It doesn't take a whole night. A necklace just requires money and a memory and a Thursday, and yet here you are anyway, letting Heeseung fasten it at the back of your neck. Tilting your head to help him, the two of you finding your way back to each other through a gesture that took him an afternoon at most.

It shouldn't count for that much, Sunoo thinks, and hates himself instantly for thinking it, because he knows exactly how much his own gestures are supposed to count for considering Heeseung is your boyfriend, and can't explain why the math only ever works one direction in his head.

You say something to Heeseung, laughter already reaching your smile. One hand goes up to touch the chain where it sits against your collarbone. And he says something back. You lean into him, just slightly, and he puts his arm around you the way he always does.

Unthinking and unearned and it's like nothing happened. Like three days of silence and a painting and a hallway fight never occurred at all. His hands ball up into fists. He knows that the second Heeseung's hand comes up to your jaw, the second your chin tilts and the whole cafeteria seems to keep moving around the two of you like you're not doing anything worth noticing at all. He knows he should look down at his tray, or his phone, or literally anything else in the room.

But he doesn't. The kiss isn't long, isn't even dramatic, just a normal kiss, the kind that happens between two people who've done this a hundred times before and will do it a hundred times again. Barely worth the audience it's drawing. It costs Heeseung nothing to do this. It costs him nothing to have earned it back this fast, either. Sunoo feels it somewhere underneath his ribs, a drop. So sudden, like missing a step he didn't know was there.

He's imagined this too, fucking hell…of course he has. not this exact moment, not Heeseung's mouth on yours, but the general shape of you being kissed, being wanted like that, openly in daylight, without either of you flinching from who might see. He's drawn versions of it he'll never show anyone, careful and reverent and always, always, with a faceless person he wishes were him, right where Heeseung is now. Watching the real thing happen to someone else feels awful.

He doesn't remember standing up. Just becomes aware several seconds later, that he's on his feet with his tray still full below him and that Jungwon is looking at him with an expression he can't quite place. "You good?" Jungwon asks. "Yeah." He answers, "Just not hungry." Jungwon glances toward your table, just briefly, just long enough. And then back at Sunoo, and something in his face shifts. Subtle, the kind of shift that comes from a question forming somewhere from suspicion.

"You've been weird lately," Jungwon says. Not really an accusation. Just an observation, laid down carefully like he's testing how it sounds. "Weird how?" Sunoo shoots him a lazy glare.

"I don't know. You keep… " Jungwon stops, seems to reconsider his own words. "You sit at this exact table every day. You know that, right? Same seat, same time."

Sunoo doesn't answer that. Picks up his tray instead, movements a little too careful, a little too controlled, the way you move when you're trying to prove to someone you're fine. Jungwon doesn't push it, not yet. But he watches Sunoo walk to the trash can with his food untouched, watches him not look back at your table on the way, and sits with that info for a moment. He looks back at you, now giggling as your boyfriend whispers something in your ear and something doesn't quite add up to him. Not yet, but it's certainly starting to.

Later, in the hallway, Jungwon brings it up again, quieter this time, like he's chosen the moment on purpose. "Can I ask you something and can you actually answer me?" Sunoo doesn't look up from his locker. "What is it?" "You're not…" Jungwon exhales, like he doesn't love where this sentence is going either. "You don't have a thing for her, do you? Y/N?" The lock clicks. Sunoo doesn't turn around right away, which is its own kind of answer, and he knows it the second the silence stretches half a beat too long.

"She's with Heeseung," he says, finally. Not wanting to lie to his best friend but also not quite capable of being transparent at the moment. Jungwon can't help the frown that spreads across his face.

"That's not what I asked."

Sunoo shuts the locker. Meets his eyes, and makes himself hold his gaze. "I made her a birthday present because everyone else forgot. That's it."

"Okay," Jungwon says, in the tone of someone who doesn't believe it but has decided for now, to let it go. "Okay. Just…just be careful, man. That's someone's girlfriend."

"I know that." Sunoo says. Perfectly calm and controlled.

"Do you, though?"

Sunoo doesn't answer. Just slings his bag over one shoulder and walks. Jungwon watches him go, but doesn't follow. He can't stop wondering either, the question sitting there now, impatient and unresolved. The conversation follows Sunoo around for the rest of the day, Jungwon's voice looping in his head in a way he resents almost as much as the question itself.

‘You don't have a thing for her, do you?’ Said so casually, like it was nothing, like it wasn't the exact thought he spent months carefully not saying out loud even to himself.

For the next few hours, he's dismissive of Jungwon. At practice-run even though he doesn't mean to be, kind of snaps when he asks if he's gonna be coming to the thing on Friday. "What thing?"

"The bonfire. I told you about it last week." Jungwon says, a little confused.

"I don't know yet." His response is flat. Jungwon gives him a look and doesn't say anything.

By the time they're walking home, Sunoo's turned Jungwon's words over enough times that it stopped feeling like concern and started feeling like an accusation, which he knows isn't fair. But that doesn't stop him from feeling it anyway.

"You've been quiet," Jungwon says, like he can't help himself.

"I'm always quiet," He shrugs.

"Not like this."

Sunoo exhales through his nose, sharp. "Can you just drop it?"

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything..."

"You basically accused me of something today." It comes out harder than he wants it to, and he can hear it land that way, can see Jungwon's expression shift, but he doesn't pull it back. "In the hallway. That wasn't nothing."

"I asked a question." Jungwon sighs.

"You asked a question like you already knew the answer." Jungwon stops walking. Sunoo takes two more steps before he realizes and stops too, turning back, and for a second neither of them says anything.

"Do I?" Jungwon asks, quieter now. Not smug about it. Actually asking. "Know the answer?"

"There's nothing to know." Sunoo hears how automatic it sounds even as he says it, how practiced, the same tone he used at the locker, the same tone he's apparently started keeping in reserve for exactly this conversation.

"She's got a boyfriend. I made her a painting. That's it. Why does everyone need it to be more than that?" "Nobody said everyone, Sunoo. It's just me wondering is all. Because I've known you since we were kids, and I've never seen you time a lunch period around where someone's sitting, it's so unlike you"

"You're looking way too deep into it. Besides, since when were you and Heeseung close? You're supposed to be my best friend" he retorts.

"Sunoo."

"Just stop." His voice comes out loud. A couple of kids ahead of them glance back and he lowers his voice, hating that he has to, hating that there's a version of himself now that has to manage volume in public like he's got something worth hiding. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"I didn't say you were doing anything wrong, I said be careful."

"Well, I don't need to be careful about something that isn't happening." Jungwon studies him for a second, the way he does when he's deciding whether to push or let it go, and Sunoo hates being read like that, hates that he's apparently transparent enough now for his best friend to have started keeping notes.

"Okay," Jungwon says finally. "Fine. Forget I said anything." They walk the rest of the way in a silence that isn't really silence, just the two of them separately holding something neither one wants to be the first to put down.

Sunoo tells himself, once he's home alone, that he was right to shut it down. That Jungwon doesn't understand, can't understand, the enormity of what he feels or how carefully he's kept it contained. He doesn't let himself think about it like that.

Jungwon might be the only person who's actually seen him clearly in months, and the reason it stung so much wasn't that the accusation was untrue. It was that it wasn't.

The very next day, Heeseung finds Sunoo by the vending machines, and Sunoo knows something's wrong before a word gets said, just from the way Heeseung stops a little too close, a little too deliberately, the kind of distance that isn't accidental.

He doesn't say anything at first. Just looks at Sunoo, slow, head to toe and back up, the way you'd size up an opponent before a game. Checking for something, weighing it, deciding how much of a problem you actually are.

Sunoo's used to being looked at like he's harmless. He's not used to being looked at like he's being measured. He lets him though. Doesn't straighten up, doesn't posture, just leans against the machine like he's got nowhere better to be.

"Hey." Heeseung says it easy, but there's nothing easy in the way he's standing, shoulders squared, taking up more of the hallway than he needs to. "Got a sec?"

Sunoo's stomach drops before his face has a chance to catch up, "Sure.” He feeds a coin into the machine, unhurried like this conversation is a mild inconvenience to his snack schedule and nothing more. "What's up?"

"The painting." Heeseung doesn't waste time getting to it. "The fountain thing. For her birthday."

"Yeah." Sunoo watches the pretzel drop, retrieves it, but doesn't open it yet. "What about it?"

"It's really good." Said plainly, no warmth in it. "She won't shut up about it, actually." Sunoo keeps his face still. "That's nice to hear, I'm glad that she likes it."

"Yeah." Heeseung's eyes don't leave his, and there's a stillness to him now, the kind of quiet that's doing more work than shouting would. "You two are close, huh? Art partners or whatever."

"We had a project together." Sunoo adjusts his bag over his shoulder. "You should ask her to show you our works sometime. I think she'd like that."

Heeseung doesn't take the bait the way Sunoo half-hopes he will. Just steps closer instead, close enough that Sunoo has to try not to react to it. Has to stand his ground, not to give him the flinch he's clearly checking for.

"Right." He pauses, "She mentioned you a lot. Before the project too.” Sunoo doesn't answer that. Doesn't trust what would come out if he tried. "We go to the same school. People come up in conversation." Sunoo shrugs and takes a bite of the pretzel like his pulse isn't beating all fast and ugly underneath all of it. "I don't really control what she talks about."

"Look man, I'm not trying to make this weird." Heeseung's voice stays level, almost friendly. "I just want to make sure I'm getting it right. You gave her a painting because you're a nice guy and she's a friend. That's the whole story, correct?” It isn't a question. Sunoo can hear exactly what's underneath it, and he makes himself hold eye contact anyway, even though every old instinct in his body is telling him to look at the floor, to make himself smaller, the way he's made himself smaller around guys like him his whole life.

Instead of flinching from it, he tilts his head slightly considering, like he's actually entertaining the question in good faith. A small, deliberate performance of thoughtfulness that's more unsettling to watch than anything else would be. "That's the whole story," he says. "Though I'll admit, I don't love being interrogated like this. Feels a little dramatic for a birthday present? Don't you think”

Heeseung's jaw tightens. But sunoo continues. "y/n's a good friend, talented too. I've learned a lot from her actually," Sunoo says, keeping his voice even. "She's better than she gives herself credit for." Something shifts in Heeseung's face, not quite surprise, more like recalculation, like he'd expected Sunoo to fold faster than this and is adjusting for the fact that he hasn't.

He doesn't back off the space between them. "Didn't ask about her work."

"No. You asked if I'm a nice guy who gave a friend a gift." Sunoo's extremely nervous but he doesn't let it reach his voice. "That's what happened. I don't know what else you want me to say." He stares right back at him but still doesn't step down, despite the odds.

Heeseung is way taller than him, the build of someone who's spent years being the biggest person in every room he walks into, and he uses it now without needing to do anything. Just presence, just proximity and the quiet certainty that he could make this physical in about one second if he decided to.

"I'm just saying." His voice drops quieter, closer to something honest and something dangerous at the same time. "I know what it looks like when a guy's got a thing for someone's girlfriend. I'm not stupid. And I don't really care how good you are at painting fountains or whatever the fuck this is."

"I never said you were stupid," Sunoo says it gently, somehow managing to piss Heeseung off even further. "And?"

"And so nothing." He shrugs, though his hands have curled slightly at his sides without his permission. "I think you're just having a bad week and looking for somewhere to put it. That's allowed. I get it.”

"You being fucking serious right now?"

"I'm not being smart with you." Sunoo assures him. "I made her a painting because nobody else remembered her birthday. That's the whole story." He knows the moment the words leave his lips, it's not gonna be looking good for him but he doesn't stop himself anyway.

Some old and hungry part of him wants to watch what it does to Heeseung. Wants it more than he wants to be safe right now.

Heeseung's face does something sharp and immediate. "Say that again.” He studies him a moment longer, close enough that Sunoo can see exactly how little he'd need to close the rest of the distance between them. His jaw works once, like he's deciding whether words are still going to be enough. "Go on," Heeseung says, quieter now, the friendliness gone out of it entirely.

"Nobody remembered her birthday. That supposed to mean something?"

"It means what it means," Sunoo shrugs.

"Watch it." A half step closer. Sunoo's back is nearly at the vending machine now, glass cold through his shirt, and there's nowhere left to give that wouldn't look like backing down entirely.

"Yo Heeseung!" Jungwon's voice cuts down the hallway, loud on purpose, clearly meant to be heard from a distance and change whatever's happening before he even arrives. "Dude, there you are." Jungwon jogs the last few steps up, inserting himself into the space like he doesn't notice anything's wrong, but the look he throws Sunoo over Heeseung's shoulder says otherwise.

"Coach was looking for you. Something about Friday's game." Heeseung doesn't move for a second, still locked on Sunoo, like he's deciding whether Jungwon's arrival actually changes anything or just delays it. "Now?" He says, not looking away yet. "Said it was urgent. Recruiter stuff, I think." Jungwon nods, casually buying it more weight than it probably has. "You know how he gets."

That does it. Heeseung straightens up, the tension in his shoulders resetting into something more ordinary, more public. He glances at Sunoo one more time. A last, flat look, more warning than anything that got said out loud. and then steps back fully. "We're not done,"

"Sure," Sunoo says, unbothered, already turning back to his pretzel like the whole thing didn't affect him at all. Heeseung claps Jungwon on the shoulder, already turning, already recalibrating into someone who has practice and recruiters and a life that doesn't orbit this hallway, and then he's gone, footsteps fading toward the gym.

Jungwon waits until he's sure Heeseung's out of earshot before rounding on Sunoo. "What the hell was that?" Sunoo lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, shoulders dropping the rest of the way now that there's no one left to hold them up for. "Nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing bro. Looked like he was about two seconds from putting you through that vending machine."

"He wasn't going to hit me."

"You sure? Because from where I was standing…" "Jungwon." Sunoo rubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "Can we not? Not right now."

Jungwon looks at him for a long moment, the same read he'd given him in the hallway days ago, except sharper now, less like a question and more like confirmation of something he already suspected.

"There was nothing urgent," he says finally. "I made that up. Coach isn't even here today."

"I know."

"I just needed him to walk away before it turned into something actually stupid."

"I know, Jungwon." Quieter this time. "Thank you, really…" Jungwon exhales, some of the frustration draining out of him at that, replaced by worry. "You gotta tell me what's actually going on with you. Because this-" he gestures vaguely at the space where Heeseung had been standing, "this isn't nothing. Guys like Heeseung don't get in someone's face over nothing."

Sunoo doesn't answer. Just picks his bag up off the floor where it had slid without him noticing, and starts walking. Jungwon falls into step beside him, not pushing further, but not dropping it either. Just walking close and watchful.

They end up on the benches behind the gym. The ones nobody uses during the day, and Jungwon doesn't say anything for a while. He just lets the silence sit there until Sunoo either fills it or doesn't. "I like her," Sunoo says finally. Flat, like it physically hurts him just to get the words out in that order. "y/n. I like her. Like, actually like her. Not the way I've been pretending it's just the painting thing, or the project thing, or whatever else I've been calling it so I don't have to say it like this."

Jungwon doesn't look surprised, which somehow makes it easier and harder at the same time. "Yeah," he says. "I figured."

"I mean it more than that." Sunoo stares at his hands. "I think about her all the time. Like, embarrassingly all the time. I know when she gets to school. I know her schedule better than my own. I've got- " he stops himself, almost says a whole sketchbook of her. He can't, he's not ready for that part yet, Jungwon would think he's insane, "I can't get her out of my mind"

"Sunoo..."

"I know." He laughs, short, no humor in it. "I know how it sounds, trust me I do."

"She has a boyfriend." Jungwon stares at him.

"I know that too." He says it too fast, he's said it to himself so many times it's stopped meaning anything. "I know she's with Heeseung. I know it's not- well, I know what I'm supposed to feel about that. Guilty, probably. Like I should back off and let it be what it is."

"But?" Jungwon watches him expectantly.

Sunoo's quiet for a second. When he answers, his voice comes out lower, more honest than ever, honestly the admission's been sitting behind his teeth for months waiting for someone to finally ask the right question.

"But I don't really care that she's taken." He says it slowly, testing how it sounds out loud, like he's checking whether it's as bad as it feels. "I can't…I know I'm supposed to care. I know that's the whole thing that's supposed to stop me. And it doesn't. It hasn't, this whole time. I just keep thinking, if he doesn't get it, if he doesn't actually see her, then why does it matter more that he was there first. I hate that he gets to be with her, he doesn't deserve her.”

Jungwon's quiet for a long moment, and Sunoo can feel him judging, the way you do when someone you thought you knew says something that moves the whole picture of them somewhere new. "That's…" Jungwon exhales. "That's not really how it works, man."

"I know how it's supposed to work."

"Then why are you telling me you don't care?"

Sunoo doesn't have an answer for that one that makes him look okay, so he doesn't try to find one. "Because it's true. Because I've been lying about it to myself for months and I'm tired of doing it, and you're the only person who was ever going to ask me the actual question."

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, looking out at the empty field instead of at Sunoo, like he needs the extra second before responding. "You know this doesn't end anywhere good, right? Whatever this is. If you keep going."

"I don't know that it ends anywhere at all. I just know I can't seem to stop." He laughs humorlessly.

"That's not the same as it being okay."

"I didn't say it was okay." Sunoo's voice cracks slightly, the first real crack in the whole conversation. "I said I can't stop. Those aren't the same things."

Jungwon looks back at him, and there's something careful in his face now. Something that isn't quite judgment but isn't quite acceptance either. The expression of someone trying to hold on to his friend and his conscience at the same time and not sure yet which one's going to have to give.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he says finally. "But I'm not going to pretend this is fine, either. And if it gets worse, Sunoo. If you do something that hurts anyone…I'm not covering for that. I covered for you today because you're my best friend. And it looked like you were about to get your teeth knocked out, not because I think what you're doing is okay."

"I know."

"Do you, though?"

Sunoo doesn't answer. Just looks out at the same empty field Jungwon's been looking at, and for once doesn't have a clever deflection ready, doesn't have a technically-true sentence to hide behind. Just the quiet, uncomfortable fact of having said the real thing out loud for the first time, and finding that saying it didn't make it feel any smaller.

He tries avoiding you for a few days after that, mostly because he's pretty sure Heeseung wouldn't be too kind about it the second time he has to confront him.

The next time he sees you, you're standing by the library. Phone in your hand, staring at something on the screen like you're reading it for the third or fourth time. Sunoo almost turns the other way, tells himself that this won't end well, even now, even after everything he said to Jungwon. Even after promising himself vaguely, unconvincingly that he'd try to pull back.

It's too late now because as soon as you switch off the phone, jaw tight. You look up and spot him immediately. "Hey Sunoo," you say, already approaching him. Your voice comes out thin. "Can I ask you something weird?"

"Sure" He leans against the wall, giving you the sense, the way he always does. That whatever you're about to say, he's got nowhere else to be but exactly here for it.

That gets the ghost of a smile out of you. "Like, a guy thing?. Maybe you'd have a better read on it than me." "What's up?" He raises his brows.

"Do you think it's normal?" You say, picking at the strap of your bag, not quite looking at him, "for guys to just forget stuff? Important stuff like in their relationships, is that a busy schedule thing, or what is it? Are guys always like this? I feel like I can't tell anymore if I'm being dramatic."

Sunoo's careful here, though nothing in his face shows it. He's had a lot of practice making careful look like ease. He could tip this somewhere ugly. Somewhere with a name attached to it, and he wants to, badly, some envious part of him leaning toward it the way it always does.

He doesn't. Restraint he's learned, has its own kind of charm. It makes you trust him more than the easy answer would. "I think it depends on the person," he says thoughtfully, like he's actually turning it over instead of already knowing exactly what conclusion he wants you to come to "Some people are just bad at that stuff even when they care a lot. But if it keeps happening. That's usually less about being busy and more about what's actually a priority for them. People generally make time for the things that matter most, no matter the outcome." He nods.

"Hmm, that's annoyingly reasonable. Didn't know you were so wise Sunoo"

"I hold myself back." A small smile spreads across his features. "I can try to be less reasonable if it helps." That gets a laugh out of you this time and something in his chest goes warm and pleased at having produced it.

"I don't know. I keep making excuses for him in my head and I don't know if I'm doing that because they're good excuses or because I don't want to deal with what it means if they're not."

"That sounds exhausting," he says. And he actually means it, one of the few sentences tonight that isn't doing double work, and somehow the sincerity in it touches you deeper. "It is." You exhale, shoulders dropping, "I don't want to keep doing this," you add, so quiet it's almost to yourself.

"I don't think I can keep doing this." Sunoo's heart is going too fast, though nothing on his face gives it away. He could reach for you right now. He knows exactly how it would go, has known for months, has practiced the whole shape of it in his head more times than he'd ever admit. He doesn't.

Instead he does what he knows works better than reaching ever could. He stays still, steady, lets you come to your own conclusion in your own time, because he's learned that you alone with your thoughts, does so much more than anything he could hand you outright.

"You deserve someone who shows up," he says. On the surface, every word of it is technically true. Which is exactly what makes it so effective. You look at him for a long moment. "Yeah," you say, softer. "Maybe I do."

Neither of you says anything else. The hallway empties out around you, the last few people heading out, and Sunoo stands there wanting, more than he's ever wanted anything. To close the distance between you and him. But he doesn't. He can't. Not yet.

it's all just a matter of time...

He's on the benches behind the gym, finishing up his assignment with Jungwon when he overhears Heeseung on the phone. Voice pitched low but not low enough to not catch. Something about a game on Friday, the kind of opportunity that doesn't come around twice.

Then, tacked on like an afterthought, “yeah, I know it's her thing that night too, I'll figure it out.”

Her thing. The showcase. The one you've been nervous about for weeks, the one where your work finally hangs on a real wall. Jungwon doesn't seem to notice, too invested in his work but Sunoo doesn't hesitate the way he used to. Doesn't think much about it. Doesn't perform the ritual of telling himself this is different, a choice, a line he's crossing. He's past that now. He just turns the information over once and decides plainly, that it's useful.

The next day in the art room, you're rambling about the showcase. Where the painting should hang, whether the lighting's right and Sunoo waits for the exact pause that gives him the best opening.

“I can't wait Sunoo! Also thank you for supporting me, i'm glad I'll have someone as talented as you standing right by my side” you beam, finishing up the final touches to your painting. Sunoo's heart skips a beat at that but he quickly recovers. He's really curious about your painting, aside from the small parts of it that you've showed him, you havent really let anyone see it yet.

"Heeseung's gonna be there right?” He looks up at you from his own work. “It's cool he made time despite his game” He says calmly, light and careless. You go still almost immediately. "What game?"

"Oh, I heard there's a game on Friday" He shrugs, doesn't even look up from his sketchbook. "He'll probably mention it."

He knows Heeseung's already trying to fix it. Swap the visit, talk to the coach, find some way to make both things work. He knows this because he heard the whole call, start to finish. He leaves all of it out. Hands you the information and watches, without a flicker of hesitation, as you build the worst version yourself.

Your face folds. Quiet and hurt before Heeseung's even had the chance to explain himself. "Of course," you say, soft. "Of course there's a game, how could I forget?" Sunoo feels nothing that resembles guilt. What he feels, watching you fold in on yourself over something he engineered on purpose, is closer to satisfaction. The specific pleasure of watching you drift further and further away from Heeseung.

He doesn't flinch from that feeling anymore. Doesn't examine it. If anything, the certainty of it steadies him. He's not doing this because he doesn't care. He's doing it because he does, more than Heeseung ever has, more than Heeseung ever will. "I might be wrong," he says easily, and reaches over to brush a smudge of paint off your wrist. Gentle and warm, completely at odds with what he just did to your afternoon.

"Don't spiral before you know the whole story. Heeseung's a good guy" You lean into the comfort of it and he lets you. He doesn't think about Heeseung finding out later, blindsided, having no idea why the girl he's been trying to fix things with suddenly won't look at him the same way.

He thinks instead, about how easy you are to read now. How he can make you happy. How you deserve better. Walking home, he doesn't tell himself he's awful anymore. He’s known it for a while. What's changed is that he's stopped trying to make himself feel bad about it. He just feels like he's getting good at this.

The big day finally arrives and the gallery's half-full by the time Sunoo gets there, string lights strung along the ceiling in loose, uneven loops, plastic cups full of refreshments sitting untouched on a folding table by the door. Someone's playing soft instrumental music off a laptop in the corner. He finds your painting before he finds you. Can't really help it, his eyes go to it the way they go to everything that's yours and he stands in front of it, soaking it all in.

It's hung well, centered on one of the side walls, a little card beside it with your name in it. He's seen how hard you worked on it, watched every layer of it happen in real time, and there's still something different about seeing it finished and framed. "You came." He turns around at the sound of your voice. Noticing you're in something nicer than your usual, not dressed up exactly, but professional and neat, he can't help but think how effortlessly beautiful you are.

"Of course I came." He smiles "Wouldn't miss it for the world"

You glance toward the door, quick, involuntary, and he watches you do the math. "Heeseung's not here yet,” You sigh. "He'll probably show," Sunoo says generously. He saw Heeseung himself earlier, trying to get out of the game, swap his spot, beg his way free somehow. He doesn't say any of that. Just lets the sentence sit there under your own judgement. "Yeah," you say, not quite believing it. "Probably."

He steers the conversation somewhere gentler since this day is about you. Your happiness. And God, he loves to see you happy.

“Okay, but have you seen how many people have actually stopped in front of yours? I watched some woman stand there for genuinely, four whole minutes." Your face lights up immediately as a smile touches your lips. "Four minutes? No way" "I counted.” He winks, glad that he's making you laugh. “So…” he nods toward the painting.

"Walk me through it properly this time. I've seen it in pieces for weeks, I want the whole story." And you do, completely animated now, hands moving as you talk him through the color choices, a reference photo you took last spring, some details he doesn't fully follow but listens anyway. Because to him, you're the most important and interesting person in his life.

Other people drift by, offer compliments, a sponsor stops to shake your hand and say something about a scholarship program you should look into, and you glow through all of it, checking the door only every few minutes now instead of every few seconds. Sunoo asks a follow-up question at exactly the right time. Doesn't check his phone once. Doesn't glance at the door the way you keep doing. He makes himself, without ever seeming to try, the single most present person in a room full of people who are technically supposed to matter more to you than he does.

Half an hour passes like that. Then an hour. Around eight-thirty you start doing the thing where you check your phone without really checking it. Pull it out, glance, put it away too fast, like you're hoping if you do it quickly enough you won't have to feel the disappointment of an empty screen.

Sunoo notices every time but says nothing. Just keeps the conversation moving, keeps you laughing. By nine, the crowd's started to thin. The organisers who run the gallery, begin quietly stacking the leftover plastic cups, a soft signal that things are winding down. Sunoo can see the disappointment in your eyes. He doesn't tell you that you deserved someone here on time, doesn't really have to. He just keeps being, patiently, everything Heeseung currently isn't.

Your eyes find the door one more time, hopeful despite yourself, and this time when nothing happens your face doesn't hide it as well as it did an hour ago. Something in it starts to crumple, and you look away fast, pretending to study the painting like it's suddenly become interesting all over again for the first time all night. "I'm being dramatic," you say. "It's fine. This isn't even a big deal, I guess."

"It's a big deal, y/n." Sunoo says, "This is the first time your work's ever hung on a wall like this. That's not nothing, you should be proud of yourself. And that's not something anyone should've missed." You look at him for a second too long, something shifting behind your eyes, unspokenly grateful. “You always know what to say."

That's when the door swings open, hard. And Heeseung comes in fast, jersey still half-damp with sweat, hair a mess, breathing like he ran most of the way here. Which he probably did.

Heeseung scans the room fast, finds you, and starts moving before he's even caught his breath. "Hey baby, I'm sorry i'm late, the game ran over, I left as soon as I could-" "You're an hour and a half late, Heeseung." Your voice isn't loud but tired. Tired of standing here, tired of waiting.

"I know. I tried to leave at half-"

"Sunoo's been here since it started." Heeseung's eyes flick, just once, toward where Sunoo's standing a few feet off, and something moves across his face. "I had a game, baby" Heeseung says, quieter now, like he can already feel how thin it sounds coming out. "You knew I had a game tonight."

"I knew you had a scout coming. I didn't know you'd already decided which one of us mattered more before you even showed up."

"Now that's just not fair."

"Not fair?" Your voice cracks, "This is the first time anything I've ever made has hung on a wall, Heeseung. And I spent the whole night checking the door for you."

A few people nearby have gone quiet, realizing something private is happening in public. Heeseung notices the attention and lowers his voice, but not the intensity behind it. "I asked the coach if I could leave early. He said no. What did you want me to do, walk off the court in front of a recruiter?"

"I wanted you to have at least texted me that you'd be running late. I wanted this to have mattered enough for you to plan around it. The way I know damn well I would've, if it were your thing instead of mine."

"Baby, that's not-" He stops. Runs a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated and cornered, and for a second he looks less like the guy who backed Sunoo against a vending machine and more like his usual exhausted self. In over his head with more things than he knows how to hold at once. "I'm trying, y/n. I know I keep messing this up. But I really am trying."

"I know you are." Your voice softens, just slightly, and Sunoo, who's standing close enough to hear, feels something sharp twist in his chest at that softness. "I know you're trying hee, but it still isn't enough, and I don't know how much longer I can keep waiting for you."

Heeseung's jaw works. And for one unguarded second he looks like he might actually lose it. It's in that exact second, that he's looking for anywhere to put his eyes that aren't yours, that his gaze lands on Sunoo again. This time he doesn't look away right away. Something passes over his face, slow, pieces sliding into place one after another where they'd been sitting loose this whole time.

The painting, the timing, the way Sunoo always seems to already know things he was never told, the vending machine, “nobody remembered her birthday” said with a softness that had nothing to do with just being a nice guy.

Heeseung's eyes narrow slightly, and something in his face goes cold and still in a way Sunoo's never seen on him before. And it makes his blood run cold. He doesn't look away either but he can feel the exact moment Heeseung stops wondering and starts knowing.

Heeseung looks back at you. His voice, when it comes out, is different now "Is there something going on with you two?" You blink, caught off guard by the turn. "What? No. Sunoo's just-"

"Because I think there might be," Heeseung says, still looking at you, though the words are aimed somewhere past you, at Sunoo, close enough to a threat that the air around the three of you goes tight. "I think there's been something going on for a while, actually. And I think I've been an idiot not to see it."

"Heeseung, that's not-" You look between the two of them, something shifting in your face, confused now. "I'm not trying to make a scene." His voice shakes, anger and hurt tangled together, “I just need you to actually answer me. Is there something going on? That's the least you can do"

"No," you say firmly, "He's a close friend." Heeseung looks at you for a long moment, like he wants to believe it and doesn't quite manage to. Then he turns over to Sunoo. "You've got nothing to say?"

Sunoo keeps his face still. "I think tonight's about y/n and her artwork. Not about me." It's a good answer. Deflecting and impossible to argue with without sounding petty. Heeseung knows it, Sunoo can see his frustration of being cornered like this but it doesn't make him feel a thing. "Yeah," Heeseung says bitterly. "Course it is." He looks back at you once more, letting out a long and exhausted sigh, "I can't keep doing this baby," he says, something closer to pleading in his voice.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Losing you, that is. I don't want that. Tell me what I need to fix, I'll fix it, just-...please" "That's the thing, Heeseung." Your voice is quiet now, “I don't think you can fix this. I think you can only actually show up next time. And I don't know if next time is ever really going to come."

"It will. I swear it will, I just need one more chance."

"I don't want to keep hoping it will," you say, and something in your voice finally breaks open after a whole night of holding it together. "I'm tired, Heeseung. I'm tired of being the only one who cares. I don't want to do that anymore." His face goes through something fast and awful, the words catching up to him a beat behind, like he can't quite believe the shape of the sentence forming.

"Wait. Are you… is this you breaking up with me? Right now? Here?"

"I didn't want it to be like this..." Your voice wavers, but you don't take it back. "I've been trying to talk myself out of this for weeks. I keep making excuses for you in my head, and I'm tired of it. I don't think that's fair to either of us anymore." "No, no wait, can we not do this here? can we just-" He reaches for your hand and you let him take it for a second, just a second, before you gently pull it back.

His face crumples at that small withdrawal more than it did at anything you've said all night. "Please. Just give me a real chance to fix this. Not tonight, not right now, but don't end it just because I was late to one thing."

"It's not one thing." Your voice is gentle even now, "It's everything…the missed birthday, the cancelled dinners…tonight, and I keep telling myself it's not a pattern but it is one, and I don't want to keep pretending I don't see it."

"I'll change y/n. I know I keep saying that, but I mean it this time, I'll be better..."

"I believe that you mean it," you say gently, "I just don't think meaning it is the same as doing it. And I can't keep waiting to find out."

Heeseung looks genuinely lost, like the ground's moved and he's standing on borrowed time. His eyes flick to Sunoo, sharp, searching, like some part of him is grabbing for anything solid to blame this on instead of himself. "Is this because of him?" His voice cracks. "Did he say something? Do something?"

"This isn't about Sunoo." You say it plainly, the accusation deflating before it can even fully form. "This is about you and me, Heeseung. It's been about you and me the whole time."

He doesn't have an answer for that. Just stands there breathing hard, looking at you like he's trying to memorize the last version of this that isn't already over. "I don't want this," he says again, quieter now, almost to himself. "I love you, y/n...you know I love you."

"I know." Your voice is soft, "I'm sorry. I really am." He looks at you a moment longer. Then slower, at Sunoo and this time there's nothing calculated in the look at all, just raw, unguarded panic curdling fast into something colder. "You," Heeseung says, voice low, already stepping closer. And Sunoo feels his heart sink for a second. He keeps his face soft for you, but something dark and pleasing settles in his chest as he watches Heeseung’s world come crashing down.

"Heeseung don't," you start, already seeing where this is going. He shakes his head in disbelief, backing up a step, something wild and shaken in his eyes. Heeseung turns before you can say anything else, pushing back through the crowd, he bumps into someone, too deep into his head to apologize, just keeps moving until the door swings shut behind him.

You stand there in the sudden quiet, the room slowly remembering itself around you, people pretending not to have watched. Your hand comes up to wipe under your eye, quick and embarrassed, shaking slightly now that the adrenaline's got nowhere left to go.

Sunoo doesn't quite know how to comfort you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," he says. The most complicated sentence he's said all year because part of him means it, watching you shake in the aftermath of something you clearly didn't want to have to do tonight of all nights. But part of him, the part he's stopped bothering to argue with anymore, doesn't feel sorry at all. He just feels like something he's been building for months has finally, quietly come apart the way he needed it to.

And if he’s being honest, it was all worth it. Every part leading up until now. You don't leave your room much, the first few weeks after your breakup. Sunoo notices you miss lunch anytime you’re on campus, then Jungwon mentions you weren't in class again and each time it happens something in him sharpens with worry.

He starts showing up anyway. Small things at first. A text checking in, nothing pushy. Then, when you don't answer for two days straight, he shows up at your door with takeout from your favorite soup place. You open the door in an old hoodie, hair a mess, eyes swollen in a way that seems like you've been crying on and off for hours.

"You didn't have to come," you say, voice rough. "I know." He holds up the container. "I wanted to." You let him in and eventually, it becomes a routine over the next few weeks.

Sunoo there most evenings, sometimes with food, sometimes with nothing but himself, sitting on the floor of your room while you lie curled on the bed not saying much of anything. He doesn't push you to talk. Doesn't offer opinions about Heeseung, he just stays. Patient and endlessly available in a way nobody else in your life quite manages to be right now.

You start to notice it, how much steadier the days feel with him in them. How much smaller your own sadness seems once he's sitting there with you.

Heeseung meanwhile, doesn't buy it. The story you gave, the “this is about you and me.” He's turned it over too many times, replayed that last look on Sunoo's face too many times, to believe it was ever really that simple. He doesn't have proof. But he knows, with total, utmost certainty that he’s not being crazy about it. He can’t do anything about it though because he has no texts, no confession, no proof, nothing but a gut feeling.

He finds Jungwon in the parking lot one afternoon and corners him before he can get to his car. "You knew," Heeseung says, no greeting, nothing soft in his voice at all. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

Jungwon doesn't answer right away, which is its own kind of confirmation, and Heeseung's jaw tightens at the silence. "He's my best friend," Jungwon says finally, careful. "I'm not going to stand here and confirm something I don't have proof of."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either."

Heeseung laughs. humorlessly, and there's something dangerous coiled just under the surface of it. "He took her from me. Slowly. On purpose. And everyone including you just watched it happen, helped it happen."

"That's not fair, man."

"It isn't?" Heeseung's voice cracks, somewhere between fury and something rawer underneath it. "I love her. I know I messed up, I know I gave him every opening he needed, but I never, ever would've done what he did. Not like that. Not in a way nobody could ever call it what it actually is."

Jungwon doesn't have an answer for that either. Just watches Heeseung get in his car and slam the door harder than he needs to, and thinks uneasily, that he doesn't disagree with a single word of it.

It's a Friday night tonight, one of the ordinary ones now, the two of you tangled up on the couch in your dorm's common room. The movie flickers on, not really grabbing your attention, the bowl of popcorn between you gone mostly untouched, the chocolate Sunoo brought, knowing it's your favorite. Half-eaten and melting on the coffee table.

"Thank you," you murmur at some point, your head against his shoulder. "For all of this. These past few weeks. I don't know what I would've done without you."

"You'd have been fine," he says quietly, though something warm spreads across his chest. "I don't think I would've." You shift, looking up at him, faces close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I think you're the only reason I've been okay at all."

He should pull back, he knows he should. Redirect it somewhere safer and all. But he doesn't.

The movie plays on, forgotten. And for a long moment neither of you says anything, just the closeness of it, charged now with all the pent up frustrations and emotions the two of you had been holding back. The air shifts. All the months of careful distance, all the times he swallowed his feelings while you belonged to someone else, suddenly feel unbearable.

You kiss him first.

Desperate, a little messy and he lets you, but only for a second. Then he kisses you back like he’s been starving for it. His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with a slow, controlled hunger that makes your toes curl.

You climb into his lap, straddling him, and he groans softly into your mouth as you settle your weight on him. His hands find your waist, fingers digging in just enough to guide your hips down against the growing hardness below you. You take control immediately, rocking against him, grinding slow and deliberate. Sunoo’s head tips back, lips parted, breath shaky, but his grip stays firm.

Guiding you, encouraging every roll of your hips with subtle pressure. He lets you lead it. His fingers pressing bruises into your skin like he’s claiming you. “God… you f-feel so good,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and rough.

One hand slides up your spine under your shirt, palm hot on your bare skin, while the other grips your ass, pulling you harder against him. You kiss him deeper, biting his bottom lip, and he lets out a quiet, wrecked sound that goes straight between your legs. You push him back against the couch, pinning his shoulders as you grind down more purposefully, chasing the friction.

His shirt is rumpled in your fists, his hair messy from your fingers, cheeks flushed. He looks beautiful like this, yielded to you yet still guiding your touch with heated whispers. You trail your mouth down his neck, sucking a mark just below his jaw, and his breath hitches, hips bucking up involuntarily to meet yours. The friction pulls a soft moan from you, and he swallows it with another deep kiss, tongue teasing yours while his hand slips lower, in between your thighs.

But then he pulls back, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. One hand stays curled at the back of your neck, the other still possessively on your hip. “Wait,” he rasps, voice strained. “Wait. We should-...not like this. Not tonight."

You blink still feeling dazed, lips swollen. A little embarrassed at how far you'd both let it go. “I’m sorry, I-” “Don’t apologize.” He brushes his thumb tenderly across your cheek, “You just got out of something painful. I just don't want this to be something that happens because you're sad. I want it to be something you actually want. Not just tonight, not just right now."

It's the right thing to say. It's also, quietly, the smartest thing he could've said because it doesn't push you away, it draws you closer, cements him as the one person in your life who's ever cared enough to slow things down instead of taking what was so clearly being offered.

You settle back into his side instead, quiet, blood still pounding in your ears, and he holds you like that until the movie ends, saying nothing else, thinking about how close he'd just come to having exactly what he's wanted for a year and how much better it'll feel once you're the one who comes back and asks for it again.

Over the next few weeks, you become handsy in a way that surprises even you. It's like your body's decided to make up for months of being neglected. You reach for his hand walking to class before you've even registered doing it. Kiss his cheek when he says something that makes you laugh. Curl into his side at the food court. Head on his shoulder, like proximity itself is the only thing keeping you sane.

Sunoo never pulls away from any of it. If anything he leans into it, always finding some quiet moment to tell you you're beautiful. You've never had anyone make you feel like this. Chosen, constantly without ever having to ask.

The campus paths are quieter in the late afternoon, golden light filtering through the trees the same way it does in that courtyard fountain he once painted for you. Sunoo walks with your hand firmly laced in his, your fingers always find his now. Tugging him close without hesitation. You squeeze his hand, then let it go only to loop your arm around him, pressing yourself into his side.

“You’re warm” you murmur, tilting your head up to kiss his cheek, then lingering with another soft press just below his ear. Sunoo turns and catches your lips properly. “You’re pretty,” he whispers against your mouth. “Especially like this, under the sun.” His eyes drag across your face. You laugh softly, the sound vibrating against his chest as you hug him tighter.

The two of you have fallen into this rhythm. Stolen kisses in the art room, heated makeouts against the side of the library, lazy afternoons on your couch where your hands wander under his shirt. Today you pull him toward the old oak trees. A spot so empty that the two you had fooled around here so many times.

You remember how you pulled him here a few days back, heart racing with that familiar thrill. The second you were hidden, he dropped to his knees like he couldn’t wait another second. Shoved your skirt up, tugged your panties down your legs, and buried his face between your thighs.

Then his mouth was on you, hot, relentless, and filthy. His tongue dragged slowly up your dripping folds before latching onto your clit, sucking hard while you had to bite your lip to stay quiet, one hand tangled tightly in his hair as he devoured you.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue filled the quiet air while you rode his face, hips grinding desperately. You were right on the edge, thighs shaking around his head, when you heard the footsteps. A senior walked along the path, earbuds in, only a few meters away. Your eyes flew open in panic, but he didn’t stop. If anything, he looked up at you with that dark, provocative glint in his eyes and sucked harder on your clit, fingers curling relentlessly against your g-spot.

A soft moan escaped your lips and the senior slowed down, glancing toward the trees like he’d heard something. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, pleasure and fear twisting together. Sunoo’s tongue flicked faster, refusing to let up. And no longer able to hold it, you came hard. Biting down on your hand to muffle your cry as your pussy fluttered around his fingers and gushed against his tongue, spilling into his mouth.

He kept licking you through every wave, greedy and possessive for every drop of your pleasure, even as the senior stood there for a long, terrifying second before finally continuing on his way. When the footsteps finally faded, Sunoo rose to his feet slowly, lips glistening with your release. He pulled you into a sloppy, deep kiss, tongue sliding against yours so eager that you moaned into his mouth when he pressed a leg between your thighs.

He broke away only to trail wet kisses down your neck, sucking lightly while his hands stayed firm on your waist. You started giggling breathlessly as he nipped at that sensitive spot below your ear, the overstimulation turning ticklish. “Sunoo stop,” you laughed, pushing weakly at his chest. “That tickles!” He smiled against your skin, hands fixing your clothes as he tugged your panties back into place before pressing one final kiss to your cheek.

The memory slips away as you blink back into focus. A light wind rustles through the thick leaves overhead, sunlight cracking through in warm patches across the ground. Birds chirp softly in the distance but nothing calms the warmth still lingering between your thighs.

The moment you’re half-hidden behind the trees, you push up on your toes, arms wrapping around his neck, and kiss him deeply. Sunoo meets you eagerly, one hand cupping your jaw while the other settles at the small of your back, pressing you closer. Your body melts into his as you deepen the kiss with a quiet hum.