A New Spring Day

Finally, out of nowhere—like a teapot shrieking just as you’d forgotten it—Wooyoung let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto the rug as if crushed by the weight of everyone’s unresolved tension.

“Okay, fine! I’m sorry, alright?” he moaned, ‘I’m sorry I made things weird.”

Mingi paused just long enough to side-eye him. “You always make things weird.”

“Yeah, but this time it stuck,” Wooyoung huffed, pointing between Y/N and Yunho. “They won’t even look at each other. I’m choking on the awkward tension and it’s not even mine.”

Before anyone could reply, Jongho—half-buried under a blanket and holding a bag of chips hostage—muttered, “It’s not your fault, Wooyoung. It’s these two who need to figure their shit out.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself—her eyes flicked toward Yunho, just for a second. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. A smile. A glance. A sign that things weren’t as broken as they felt. He didn’t turn around. But she saw it anyway—the way his shoulders tensed, the way his grip on the controller tightened ever so slightly. And then, like his focus had slipped for just a beat too long, his character got KO’d. The screen flashed red and the controller vibrated in his hands.

“Damn it,” Yunho muttered, tossing the controller down in frustration. “Can we not? Just—can everyone stop talking about it?”

He stood, grabbing a water bottle off the table. “Give it time, alright? We’ll be fine again. Just… mind your own business.”

He didn’t look at her as he left the room.

The room fell silent, the tension so thick it felt physical. The only sound was the faint, tinny loop of the video game’s background music, still playing in the aftermath of Yunho’s defeat.

Y/N rose slowly, brushing invisible crumbs from her jeans just to keep her hands busy. Her chest felt hollow, like everything inside her had gone quiet. “Uh, I’m gonna head out,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “I need to study.”

No one stopped her.

The door shut behind her with a soft click, and the moment she hit the sidewalk, the burn in her eyes returned. She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked fast, hoping the sting of cold air would dry her tears before they had a chance to fall. She wasn’t sure if she felt this way because of embarrassment or heartbreak or both.

Of course, that’s when her phone buzzed.

Mom: All set for your genetics test tomorrow? It’s time to buckle down.

She stared at the message. Perfect. When it rained, it stormed. And apparently, her forecast was a full-blown hurricane.

Instead of going home, she turned on her heel and headed for the library.

She buried herself in genetics review and evolutionary theory, anything that could distract her from her thoughts of Yunho. Her laptop screen blurred more than once, her eyes hot and aching, but she didn’t stop—not even when the clock crept past midnight and her limbs begged for rest. She curled up in a corner armchair around 3AM, her notes still in her lap.

She woke up groggily to the sound of soft footsteps and the rustle of a jacket. Blinking against the harsh library lights, she looked up to see San easing into the seat across from her. His eyes were wide with concern, making him look innocent in the dim morning haze.

His brows furrowed as she took him in, relief washing over his features like a wave. “You scared the shit out of us,” he whispered. “Ivy and Wooyoung called me when you didn’t come home. They were worried.”

Y/N blinked up at him, disoriented and still wrapped in the thick haze of exhaustion. Her notes slid to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to—I just…”

San didn’t make her finish. He just offered a hand and said, “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

She walked beside him in the cold fog of the morning, San’s broad shoulders bundled in a thick jacket, occasionally brushing against hers. Their footsteps echoed quietly against the deserted sidewalk, the silence between them stretching but not uncomfortable.

“How did you know where to find me?” she finally asked, voice rough from sleep that had given her no rest.

San hesitated, his boots heavy on the ground. “Yunho… he had your location.”

Y/N blinked. Of course. She must’ve still had it shared from the other night. A strange, heavy silence settled on her chest.

“I’m sorry,” San said quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “For kissing you by the way.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, making him turn to look at her. “San, please. I kissed you,” she said. “I’m the one who should be sorry. For putting you in the middle of all this drama. I didn’t think—I never expected it would get like this with Yunho.”

Her breath came out in a small cloud, like the weight of the admission had pulled it straight from her lungs.

“I don’t even know when it changed,” she added, quieter this time. “One second we were just us… and then it all got messy.”

San didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there with that gentle, unreadable expression of his, hands tucked into his jacket pockets like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure he should.

“You think it’ll ever go back to how it was?” he finally asked.

Y/N didn’t have the heart to lie.

“I don’t know.”

When Y/N finally stepped through her front door, Ivy stood up from where she sat on the couch, arms crossed and eyebrows raised like she was trying not to panic or yell.

“Okay, look,” Ivy said. “First, go sleep. Then, take your test. And then—this afternoon—we’re going dancing. Just us girls.”

Y/N blinked at her, managing a weak smile. She had been expecting to get scolded. “And girls doesn’t count Wooyoung?”

Ivy hesitated, then grinned. “Nope. Just us.”

Y/N snorted, too tired to argue. “Fine. Deal.”

She went to her room and flopped down onto the bed fully clothed, and she slept hard—so hard she didn’t dream at all, just sank into a heavy, unbroken darkness like her body had given up on thinking. By the time she stirred again, the sun had shifted in the sky, and her limbs felt like they were full of sand. Her mouth was dry. Her head ached. But for the first time in a long while, she felt still.

Ivy had left her a water bottle and two Advil on the nightstand, along with a scribbled note: “Test brain on. Dancing brain later. You’ve got this.” Y/N smiled faintly, too groggy to roll her eyes.

She forced herself out of bed, showered quickly, and shoved a granola bar in her pocket on the way out the door. Her backpack felt heavier than usual. Or maybe that was just the weight in her chest.

By the time she made it to class, her head was pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat. The room was already half full, quiet except for the rustle of papers and the occasional nervous cough. It was test day—the kind of day where no one dared speak louder than a whisper.

Desks had been rearranged so that everyone sat one seat apart, their materials carefully laid out in front of them like offerings to the academic gods. Pencils sharpened. Eyes down. The tension was thick, like the whole class was holding its breath.

And Yunho was already there.

He sat in the middle row, spine straight, hands folded neatly on top of his test packet. He didn’t look up. Didn’t glance her way. But she saw the way his fingers tapped lightly against the desk, like a tell he didn’t know he had.

Y/N stood in the doorway for a beat longer than necessary before making her way to the back of the room. One empty seat. Then another. She slid into the last row, her stomach curling tight as she pulled out her pencil and settled in.

She tried not to wonder if he’d noticed her at all. Or if he had, and chose not to. She couldn’t think about Yunho, now. All she needed to do right now is ace this test. Then, she was free – free to dance off the heartbreak. Maybe—just maybe—today could be the start of forgetting.

After the exam, Y/N practically skipped home, her heart feeling lighter than it had all week. She took a quick, much-needed nap before the evening’s plans, letting the exhaustion melt away.

When she woke the house, it was already buzzing with Ivy’s laughter, the scent of perfume, and the steady thump of pop music vibrating through the floorboards.

Y/N grabbed her makeup bag and settled into Ivy’s room, sitting on the floor with a glass of wine beside her. She paused at the mirror, delicately dabbing glittery shadow onto the corners of her eyes, while Ivy launched into a theatrical lip-sync performance with a hairbrush. Clothes were strewn everywhere—jeans tossed over chairs, tops tried on and rejected, shoes kicked off and swapped in a whirlwind of getting-ready chaos.

Just then, Patti, their other roommate, popped her head in as Ivy popped open another bottle of wine. “You girls are glowing,” she said with a grin, stepping into the lively mess with two extra glasses in hand.

“We’re rejoining society,” Ivy declared, pouring a generous glass for Patti and refilling Y/Ns. “And leaving the drama behind.”

Y/N snorted, but let herself enjoy the moment.

The girls danced while getting ready, bumping hips in the hallway, shrieking with laughter when Ivy tried to twerk and nearly toppled over. Y/N caught herself smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. For the first time in a while, she felt like herself again—surrounded by warmth, not uncertainty.

Later, under the pulsing neon lights of the town’s only club, everything else seemed to dissolve into the background. The music throbbed through the floor, vibrating up through Y/N’s feet and settling deep in her chest. The air was thick—warm with sweat, electricity, and the mingling scents of perfume and spilled drinks.

Y/N threw her arms up, surrendering to the rhythm, her body moving instinctively with the beat. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, and for a moment, she was weightless.

Ivy spun her around, their laughter ringing clear above the music’s roar. The world shrank until it was just the two of them, breathless and collapsing into each other, the joy of the night pulsing between their smiles.

Y/N was strong. She was smart. She was sexy.

She didn't need anyone to remind her of that tonight.

When the club finally spat them back out onto the sidewalk, their cheeks were flushed and hair tousled, high heels making their feet scream–but they didn’t care. Y/N was mid-laugh when she froze.

There, standing under the hazy streetlight, were Wooyoung and Mingi.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, turning to Ivy. “You did not.”

Ivy looked genuinely startled. “I swear I didn’t know they were coming!”

Mingi, ever the snitch, immediately pointed at Wooyoung. “He wanted to go out. I told him not to! He tricked us! Said he just wanted to get a drink. Said he just wanted to see Ivy but knew it was girls’ night so needed distracting…”

Wooyoung shot Mingi a betrayed look. “Dude.”

Ivy whipped around, eyes wide. “Are you serious? You followed me all the way here?”

Wooyoung crossed his arms, pouting. “It’s not following if we just happened to be at the same club. I swear!”

Mingi scoffed. “You literally made us circle the block four times.”

“I did not!” Wooyoung groaned.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, she teased, “You’re so obvious it’s embarrassing. You’re obsessed.”

Wooyoung shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” he said to Ivy, “Is that so wrong?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “You’re my boyfriend, not my personal bodyguard.”

Wooyoung’s voice got whinier. “But you’re my girlfriend so I missed you!”

Ivy smirked. “So you stalk me because you miss me? Cute, but still creepy.”

Wooyoung gave her a mock hurt look. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Can we just… you know, stop fighting?”

Mingi couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You two are like a soap opera.”

Wooyoung shot Mingi a glare. “Hey, stay out of this!”

Ivy nudged Wooyoung with a grin. “Just don’t follow me next time.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically. “No promises.”

Yunho and San appeared around the corner, smirking at the scene.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Wooyoung’s being whiny again?”

San laughed. “Should we get popcorn?”

Y/N, leaning on a parking meter, smiled softly. “Drama always finds us… but hey, at least it’s entertaining.” Y/N stole a glance at Yunho, heart fluttering with a fragile hope that he might respond to her comment. Maybe if he laughed, seemed to enjoy the familiar chaos—maybe it meant things were okay again. But Yunho didn’t meet her eyes.

He looked away, shoulders tense, his jaw tight under the glow of the streetlights. Something inside Y/N crumpled. Why was he not responding to any of her usual charms? Why wouldn’t he fold?

“Are we still getting food?” San asked, cutting through the tension like a knife through butter.

Wooyoung and Ivy were still locked in their comedic bickering, but Mingi perked up. “Yes, please. I’m starving.”

They started down the main street, the group splitting naturally to fit the sidewalk. San and Mingi animated walked in conversation up ahead, Ivy poked at Wooyoung’s ribs while he whined in retaliation.

That left Y/N and Yunho trailing behind.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Their steps fell into rhythm, the silence thick but not unbearable, just... full of things left unsaid.

Then Yunho cleared his throat. “Do your feet hurt?”

Y/N blinked. It was such a simple question, so normal, and yet it caught her off guard. She looked down at her heels. “A little,” she admitted with a weak smile. “These heels were not my best idea.”

Yunho nodded, his gaze still fixed ahead. “You can lean on me if you need.”

Y/N’s heart leapt so fast it nearly tripped over itself. She tried to brush it off, forcing a laugh. “Uh, I’m okay. I just can’t think about it. If I do, the pain becomes real.”

“Don’t be silly,” Yunho said, his voice low and steady. “I can help.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he bent slightly—and in one smooth motion, swept her off her feet. Literally.

“Yunho!” Y/N shrieked, caught somewhere between shock and giddy disbelief.

He stifled a small grin, adjusting his grip so her arms instinctively circled his neck. “I warned you,” he said in soft, serious voice.

Their friends all whipped around at the sound, heads swiveling in sync. A second passed. Then, in a rare collective act of mercy, they turned forward again, pointedly minding their own business; no one wanted to interrupt this moment.

“Excuse me?” Ivy said, turning to Wooyoung with a narrowed glare. “Why didn’t you offer to carry me?”

Wooyoung gaped, already backing away like she’d drawn a weapon. “You think I wouldn’t if I could? Babe, I love you, but I am not built like Yunho. My back has limits!”

“Unbelievable.” Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Fine! Get on, but I’m getting a chiropractor after this.” Wooyoung crouched dramatically, arms stretched out behind him like a tired mule. Ivy huffed and climbed onto his back anyway, arms flung around his shoulders as he staggered upright with an exaggerated groan.

Meanwhile, Yunho carried Y/N effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could feel the warmth of his hands beneath the bend of her knees, his chest rising against her side, the even rhythm of his breathing so close to her ear.

For a second, she let her head tip slightly against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything right away, but his hold tightened—just a little. Just enough.

They reached the late-night diner and piled into a sticky vinyl booth, still buzzing from the music and the cold air outside. The table was too small for the group, so they squeezed in close with Yunho and Y/N ending up side by side, their shoulders and thighs pressed together. Neither of them acknowledged the contact, but neither of them moved away.

Instead, they both turned their attention outward to the chaos of their friends. San was animatedly recounting something from their shenannigans walking around, using a fry as a prop. Mingi laughed so hard he nearly choked on his chicken. Wooyoung kept feeding Ivy bites of his food with exaggerated tenderness, only for her to roll her eyes and shove him away, snorting with laughter.

When the check came, they split it without argument, and someone called a car. The vehicle was a tight squeeze, and after some shuffling, Ivy declared, “Y/N, just sit on Yunho. We’re not walking home, and I’m not sitting on Wooyoung’s bony knees again.”

No one argued. Everyone was too tired to object.

Wordlessly, Y/N slid onto Yunho’s lap, careful at first, but his hands found her hips to steady her without hesitation. The car lurched forward and they settled into relative stillness.

Outside, the world passed in blurs—quiet houses with their porch lights glowing like fireflies, apartments lined up like sleepy sentinels. The inside of the car was filled with low conversation and the hum of the engine, but Y/N stayed silent, watching the city lights flicker across Yunho’s face through the window’s reflection.

When they reached the house, everyone spilled out of the Uber like clowns tumbling from a tiny car—laughing, stumbling, limbs tangling as they jostled for footing on the sidewalk. Ivy had latched onto Wooyoung’s arm, chattering something about how his bed was comfier than hers as they wandered off into the night. Mingi followed, still deep in conversation with San, who gave Y/N a brief wave before jogging to catch up with his friend trailing up the sidewalk.

And just like that, the noise receded, leaving only Yunho and Y/N under the glow of the porch light.

Y/N lingered, clutching her phone loosely in her hand, unsure what she was waiting for. Maybe for him to say something…hoping he wouldn’t just leave her standing there.

Yunho shifted beside her, hands in his pockets, eyes on the sidewalk.

“How did the test go for you?” she asked, her voice softer than she'd intended.

He glanced up at her, then away again. “Okay, I think. I forgot one population formula and wanted to die about it for ten minutes, but…” He shrugged.

She smiled faintly. “Classic.”

“You?”

“I passed. Probably. I didn’t throw up, so I count that as a win.”

He huffed a short laugh. “You always downplay your skills. I bet you got the best grade in class”

She shrugged, “doubt it. I wasn’t feeling great going into it.”

A pause stretched between them as they both searched for what to say next.

Finally, Yunho spoke, his voice a little quieter. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…I’m sorry. For how I acted. For freezing you out. I was…mad. And hurt. But not just at you. At myself. For…reacting the way I did.”

Y/N looked at him, heart thudding. “I get it,” she said. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to.” He met her gaze fully now, the porch light catching the edge of his cheekbone. “You didn’t do anything wrong by… feeling something for someone else. Even if it was San. I just—” he exhaled, frustrated with himself, “I wish you’d told me.”

“I should’ve,” she said quietly, guilt prickling under her skin. “I didn’t mean for it to get so messy. I thought... I don’t know, I thought you weren’t interested. Not like that...in that sort of thing.”

Yunho’s brow creased. “But I was. I am.”

Y/N blinked. His voice was so blunt, so certain, it stole the breath from her lungs.

“I’ve been interested,” he continued, softer now. “Probably longer than I even realized. But I didn’t want to risk what we had...our friendship. And then when I finally figured it out… it felt too late.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “So we just… missed each other.”

“Yeah, like idiots,” he said. “Like Wooyoung circling the same block when he knows his girlfriend is just inside.”

She let out a small, sad laugh. Another pause. This one gentler. Not filled with tension but with the soft ache of honesty.

Yunho shifted a little closer. “So… what now?”

Y/N looked up at him, heart thudding. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to keep missing you.”

He held her gaze. “Then don’t.”

The quiet between them turned tender, charged with something unspoken but no longer denied.

“Come inside?” he asked, more certain this time.

Y/N nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay.”

Yunho’s door clicked shut behind them, the sound oddly final in the quiet house. Y/N stepped inside first, familiar with every detail of his room—the books stacked on the nightstand, the hoodie still slung over the back of his chair—but tonight it felt like uncharted territory. She sat down slowly on the edge of his bed, her heart thudding like it knew something was about to change.

She sat carefully on the edge of his bed, her fingers brushing the soft blanket. It wasn’t her first time here, but tonight… it felt like the first time.

Yunho crossed the room slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Then, with quiet certainty, he reached out and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing gently along her skin.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “If you’re willing… I want this. I want you.”

Her breath caught. “I just don’t want to be… just a hookup.”

“You won’t be,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’ve always been everything to me.”

And then he kissed her.

It was warm, soft at first, and unlike any kiss she had ever had before. His hands slid to her waist, drawing her closer, with an urgency now as if he was finally letting go of everything he was holding back. She melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as the kiss grew bolder, fuller.

He pulled away only to press his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a beat—breathing each other in.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

They moved together gently, shedding layers of nervousness with every brush of skin and every quiet laugh. It was sweet and a little clumsy in places, but they were in it together. Yunho kissed down her shoulder, whispered her name, and held her like he never wanted to let go.

Time slowed, then blurred completely.

When they finally curled up together, hearts still racing, the room was quiet and warm. Yunho lay beside her, arm draped around her waist, their legs tangled together. His lips found her temple, soft and lingering.

“You’re going to ruin my streak forever,” he murmured with a smile.

She let out a sleepy laugh. “Glad to be of service.”

Y/N laughed, flopping back onto Ivy’s bed. “I didn’t even do anything! I was literally just trying to get a beer.”

“Yeah, and he was trying to get your number,” Ivy grinned. “Seriously, you have a gift.”

Their giddy laughter filled the room until Ivy’s tone shifted, just slightly.

“But like… in all seriousness, are you actually for real about this guy? I mean he does have a reputation…”

Y/N hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Of course not. He’s a total fuckboy. Probably has commitment issues and a secret SoundCloud.”

Ivy snorted. “Ugh, he really is such a fuckboy. I don’t know what it is about him though…he’s soo hot.”

“Right? Like, you just know he’s bad news, but your brain short-circuits anyway.”

They groaned in unison, collapsing into laughter. The conversation drifted here and there, from speculating how good Bobby probably was in bed to how Wooyoung had felt bad for spilling the beans. Ivy helped her feel excited about getting her white whales number. They were young and life was good…wasn’t it?

But later, after Y/N said goodbye and slipped back to her own room, her phone buzzed in her pocket. For a moment, her heart stopped, wondering if it was Yunho. She glanced down at the screen. One unread message. From Bobby. And that weird little twist in her gut reappeared.

Bobby had texted her late in the afternoon with a drinks spot for them to meet up at.

The bar he picked was effortlessly cool with dark wood, exposed brick, low amber lighting that made everyone look like the best version of themselves. Y/N spotted him immediately, propped casually against the bar, sleeves rolled up, nursing a whiskey and chatting up the bartender like he owned the place.

“Hey, there you are,” Bobby said, flashing that slow, lopsided grin as she walked up. “Was starting to think I got stood up.” The line was casual, and light-hearted but something in the way he said it, the glint in his eye, made her feel instantly seen. Disarmed and buoyed, like she was the only person in the room. She knew in her logical mind who Bobby was but she couldn’t help but fall for his charms.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N said, slipping onto the stool beside him. “You think I’d skip out on drinks with someone as intriguing as you?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Intriguing? You flatter me. That’s a strong word for someone who’s just trying to pass his electives and mind his business.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Well, you have everyone fooled. You’ve got that ‘I know exactly what I’m doing’ look.”

He grinned, leaning on the bar with an easy shrug. “Or maybe I’m just good at faking confidence.”

“Same difference,” she shot back.

Bobby waved the bartender over. “Two of whatever’s cold, please.”

When the drinks arrived, Bobby slid hers over and tipped his glass toward her. “So,” he said, voice dipping just enough to spark a thrill, “tell me, what makes you so intriguing?”

Y/N met his gaze, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Isn’t it your job to figure that out?”

He chuckled, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Fair enough. But honestly? I’m not the guy who digs too deep or asks a million questions.”

“Good thing I’m a yapper, then,” she said with a grin.

Bobby’s grin deepened. “That makes things easier.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, letting the quiet stretch just enough to make him lean in.

“So,” he murmured, voice low and casual, “what’s your move now?”

Y/N glanced toward the bar, then back at him. “Depends. You’re easy enough to talk to, but I’m not here for a marathon.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Short and to the point. I like that.”

The first hour slipped by effortlessly. They traded stories about professors they both hated, swapped concert plans, and laughed at their mutual misadventures. Bobby was charismatic in a lazy, unbothered way—smiling just enough, brushing his fingers lightly against her wrist now and then, and leaning back occasionally, making her work just a little for his attention.

“You always this charming on first dates?” she teased after he caught her eye for a beat too long.

He tilted his head, smirking. “Who said this was a first date?” There was a beat of silence, then that slow, unreadable smile again.

Y/N let out a small, uncertain laugh. “Right… sure.” She couldn’t tell if he was joking or testing her—or if he even knew himself. Either way, he didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable. So she forced herself to play along, even as a flicker of confusion lingered.

He ordered another round, and Y/N was already warm with buzz and attention.

After they finished a second round, he leaned in again, voice low. “You cool with bouncing and going somewhere else? My friends are at this bar a few blocks away. It’s got a DJ and a dance floor, should be fun.”

Y/N hesitated for a half-second but nodded. “Sure, lead the way.”

The second bar was loud and full by the time they arrived. Lights pulsed in saturated red and blue, bathing everything in a dizzy, underwater glow. The music throbbed through the floorboards, bass rattling her ribs.

Bobby moved ahead of her, slicing through the packed crowd like he belonged there. He threw high-fives, clasped shoulders, shouted greetings. At first, Y/N clung to his hand, letting him pull her through the crush of bodies. But after a while, he let go.

She hovered near the bar while Bobby ordered, trying not to look out of place. A moment later, she was swept into a loose knot of guys she didn’t know—loud, laughing, already a few drinks in. Bobby leaned in close to one of them, grinning at something she couldn’t hear. For a second, Y/N thought he might introduce her, maybe pull her into the conversation.

Instead, he turned his back.

Laughter erupted between them, but it wasn’t meant for her.

Eventually, Bobby handed her a beer without looking twice. He hadn’t asked what she wanted—just grabbed whatever was cold and easy. Y/N didn’t hate beer, but it was her last drink of choice, and after the night she’d had, the taste was already beginning to sour.

Still, she pushed through.

She didn’t want to seem high-maintenance, or worse—uncool. So she forced herself to laugh when she couldn’t hear the punchlines, nodded along to stories she couldn’t follow, and shouted half-hearted questions she didn’t care to know the answers to. All the while, she clutched the warm beer in her hand like a prop, smiling through the sharp edge of discomfort that settled just beneath her skin.

They had another round—maybe two. At least Bobby was paying. Her head buzzed, and her cheeks ached from smiling too much, too wide, for too long.

She tried dancing—barely. No one joined her.

She tried catching Bobby’s eye. Once, she managed to press close, say something directly into his ear. He nodded, vague and distracted, but smiled down at her with just enough charm, just enough promise, to make her stay. A few minutes later, he was gone again—talking to someone else, texting, leaning into another conversation that didn’t have room for her. Y/N drifted to the edge of the room, drink warm in her hand, stomach heavier than her head. Bobby only seemed to reappear to top off her glass. She watched the disco light scatter across the sticky floor, a slow-motion shimmer over a night she already wanted to leave behind.

[to Ivy]

girl i am NOT thriving pls call me or something

No response. Y/N tapped her nails against her phone, giving herself a quiet pep talk. Okay. It was late. Ivy was probably asleep or with Wooyoung. And it had only been a few minutes.

But twenty minutes later, with no reply, Y/N opened her messages again and started drafting a new text.

[to Mingi]

you up? Wondering if you can meet me.

Still nothing. Her phone was at 15% now.

She bit her lip, glancing around. Bobby was now at the far end of the bar, laughing with someone who definitely wasn’t in any of her classes. That’s when it hit her—she wasn’t even sure where they were. Bobby had called the car, and she hadn’t thought to check the address or catch the name of the bar. Stupid, she scolded herself.

She tried again.

[to San]

heyyyy are u out? can you call me for like 5 sec. My phones gonna die.

A few minutes later her phone rang.

“Y/N?” San’s voice was muffled, lost under a wall of sound. “I can’t—I’m out, where even “Are—hang on—what?”

“San? Where are you?”

“Y/N? Where—at the bar with—”

She winced as his voice cut in and out. “San, it’s fine—never mind, sorry—have fun.”

She hung up before he could respond. Guilt pricked at her for ending the call so abruptly, but she needed to conserve her battery. San would understand. Hopefully, he’d just think the signal dropped and not give it a second thought.

For a long second, her thumb hovered over one last name.

Then she started typing.

[to Yunho]

Hi. My phones gonna die. can you help me get home? I’ll send my location.

No typing bubble. No dots. Nothing.

Y/N stared at the screen, jaw clenched. Her eyes burned—maybe from the lights, maybe the alcohol, or maybe something else entirely. Fuck. How could she have been so careless? Her phone was dying, and she would need it to get home. She could ask Bobby for help. But the thought made her stomach turn. She was over him—over this night—and as far as she could tell, the feeling was mutual.

But then,

“Shots!” Someone shouted. One of Bobby’s friends had the bartender lining up small glasses of liquid. “Come on, you too, pretty!” 

Bobby appeared beside Y/N, “here,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Oh, no, really, I’m okay!” Y/N said quickly.

“Don’t worry, they’re on me!” Bobby’s friend said. “Bottoms up!” Bobby pushed the glass a little closer to Y/N, so she took it, gingerly, the clear liquid spilling over the tops of her fingers.

“Woo!” Bobby shouted, wiping his mouth. Y/N’s own mouth twisted painfully at the burn. The liquor mixed with beer had her mind swimming.

“You look so hot tonight,” Bobby leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. 

“Is that why you’ve kept your distance? Just enjoying the view.” Y/N teased, but there was some bitterness to her voice.

“What do you mean? We’re having fun aren’t we?” Bobby pushed his bottom lip out in a pout. His face was mere centimeters from her, his hands braced on either side of the bar stool Y/N balanced on.

“Uh,” Y/N glanced at her phone. Still no messages. Battery at 8%. “I guess,” she murmured, barely paying attention.

Bobby bit his lower lip, eyes heavy-lidded, and something in Y/N’s stomach twisted—she couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread.

“Can I kiss you?” Bobby asked, voice low and sudden.

Y/N blinked, startled. He was close—leaning in with both hands gripping the sides of her stool, caging her in without quite touching. His eyes didn’t leave hers, and the heat of his body pressed into the air between them.

After the way he’d ignored her most of the night, she hadn’t thought he was even interested. Her heart skipped. She hesitated, pulse fluttering, then gave a small nod.

His mouth was on hers a second later—hot, wet, and careless. The kiss was rough, all tongue and no tenderness, like he was trying to claim something without asking. She tasted the faint bitterness of his beer as he pressed in closer, one hand tightening its grip on the stool’s edge.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against her lips, and his voice came out low and husky. “Wanna get out of here?”

Her heart thudded. “I—I can’t. My best friend’s meeting us here.”

Bobby’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh.”

“That’s okay, right?” she asked quickly, letting her hand brush his hip in a weak attempt to smooth things over. “I mean, we’re having fun, so I thought…”

Her words trailed off as Bobby took a step back. “Sure. Whatever.” His tone was flat.

He ordered another round of beers without looking at her and drifted back into the crowd, swallowed up by laughter that no longer included her.

Their moment—if it had even been one—was over.

Y/N felt the alcohol settle deeper, her limbs heavy, her head thick with haze. She knew she should stop drinking, should just leave. But her body wouldn’t listen. The best she could manage was ordering a glass of water, clutching it like a lifeline, and silently hoping Yunho would come find her.

The bar thumped with bass, packed with bodies and flashing lights. Yunho spotted her near the bar—her silk top slipping off one shoulder, laughter bubbling from her lips at something some guy was saying. To her left, Bobby was distracted, chatting with some other guy. It looked like the perfect night out. Yunho wasn’t sure why she’d needed him at all. But when her text had come through, something like panic had risen in him. There was something off–call it a gut feeling.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she caught sight of him approaching, then a bright smile spread across her face.

“Yu!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, unsteady but happy. She was drunk. “You came!”

Bobby gave Yunho a lazy nod. “You the best friend?”

Yunho didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at Bobby, he just held Y/N’s gaze like it hurt him. Like he’d known exactly what he’d find and hated what he saw.

“I told you he was cute,” Y/N whispered conspiratorially to a guy next to her who wasn’t Bobby. “But he’s just my bestie. But he always shows up for me.”

“I’m not your handler,” Yunho snapped. His voice was sharp. Y/N blinked.

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

“Yu, stay. Meet Bobby, he’s buying drinks and–” 

He grabbed her wrist—not hard, but firm. “You’re drunk and you said you wanted to go home.”

Her smile cracked. “I knew you’d come. You said you’d always come.”

“I didn’t say I’d always watch you throw yourself at guys who don’t care,” he snapped.

People were starting to stare. Bobby melted back into the crowd. 

She tugged her hand free. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

“Because I’m tired, Y/N!” he said, louder now. “Tired of watching you crash and burn just to feel something. Tired of pretending it doesn’t kill me every time you call me hot without meaning it or laugh at some other guy's joke while I’m the one holding your hair back when you cry into the toilet the next morning.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Suddenly, she looked young, messy and small and scared.

“You never said—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I had to. But now I realize you have me so deep in the friend zone…you will never get it so why bother.”

Silence settled between them as the party surged onward around them. Someone spilled beer near their feet. Music rattled the walls. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

Yunho shook his head, like trying to shake her off. “I’ll always come if you need me. But not like this. Not while you keep choosing everything but me. So if you want to stay, stay. But I’m calling us a car. Whether you get in or not—that’s your choice.”

And with that, he walked away.

Y/N felt frozen for a moment before she slowly followed him. They rode home in complete silence. When they reached their street, Yunho didn’t invite her in, didn’t ask a single question—didn’t say a word. He simply walked down his sidewalk, hands tucked in his pockets, his broad shoulders shifting under the glow of the streetlamps. Watching him, Y/N felt her heart tighten painfully in her chest.

The next morning, Y/N woke with the worst hangover of her life. The pounding headache was nothing compared to the ache in her chest and the tight knot twisting in her stomach. She struggled to process last night’s mess. She regretted the kiss with Bobby and wondered if Yunho even wanted to know after everything with San. But would telling him only hurt him more? Would he believe her when she said it meant nothing? Or was she just reading into things she wished were true?

“Because it was,” San said with a smirk, curled up on the floor with a box of fried chicken.

Y/N sat on the carpet beside him, peeling an orange with more focus than she’d given anything all day.

Wooyoung popped his head into the room with a bowl of microwaved mac and cheese. “So. Who’s gonna talk about the fact that San and Y/N totally made out last night?”

Mingi choked on his water.

“Bro,” Yeosang whispered urgently.

San blinked, then gave a lazy shrug. “It wasn’t a secret.”

Y/N looked up, completely unbothered. “We were drunk. It happened. We’re good.”

“Wait—what?” Yunho’s voice cut through the room. He had just come down from upstairs, hair still damp and gleaming under the light, the scent of clean steam and cedarwood body wash trailing behind him. A hoodie hung loose over his frame, but it didn’t quite hide the sharp line of his shoulders or the way tension coiled beneath his skin.

He stared at Y/N, jaw tight.

Everyone went silent.

Y/N raised her eyebrows slowly. “You weren’t there, Yunho.”

San added lightly, “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

Yunho just nodded, too hard. “Right. Totally chill. Just didn’t know we were doing that now. Hooking up within the friend group. Wooyoung and Ivy are already too much.”

Wooyoung raised both hands. “Okay, let’s not start throwing shade unless we’re ready for all the tea.”

Yeosang smacked him, “You started this,” he hissed under his breath.

Yunho gave Wooyoung a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ivy blinked at him. “Wait… Woo, are you talking about—?”

Mingi sat up. “Hold on. Did you hook up with someone too?”

Everyone turned to Yunho.

He froze for half a second too long.

“I—That’s not—” he started, then gave up and muttered, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“You broke your no-sex streak,” Ivy gasped.

“No way,” Yeosang whispered, eyes wide. “With who?”

Yunho rubbed a hand down his face, like he regretted everything. “Can we not—”

“Oh, we're talking about it,” Wooyoung grinned. “You’ve been preaching ‘I don’t like sleeping around’ since sophomore year. Who was she?”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She just peeled another slice of orange, lips pressed together as her eyes stayed fixed on the carpet.

The room buzzed with questions, laughter, and chaos—but she stayed quiet, stomach flipping.

Yunho wouldn’t look at her.

They didn’t speak the rest of the weekend.

Y/N saw him across the room at Saturday night’s party and turned sharply on her heel, dragging Ivy with her to refill drinks they didn’t need. By Sunday, she drank herself nearly sick on hard cider, laughing too loud and too often, like she could drown the silence he left behind.

Yunho didn’t look at her once despite her attention-seeking efforts.

Monday came too early, and things between them were... off. Not explosive. Just heavy. Like walking through wet concrete.

In Genetics, Y/N took her usual seat beside him, but there was no shared glance, no sarcastic whisper. Yunho kept his eyes on the screen, jaw locked.

The professor droned on, oblivious to the mess unraveling in row three.

“Today we’re discussing sexual selection in more detail—what makes a mate ‘ideal,’ and how evolutionary fitness can sometimes conflict with emotional compatibility.”

Y/N stared ahead, unblinking.

“Take, for example, the concept of genetic compatibility,” the professor continued, flipping to a slide with a diagram of paired chromosomes. “The best partners aren’t always the ones with the flashiest traits—sometimes it’s about how your differences fit together, creating a balance that lasts. It’s about lasting strength, compatibility beneath the surface, and, well… making sure the next generation’s got what it takes.”

Yunho shifted in his seat.

Y/N crossed her arms tighter.

Her notes remained blank.

The words felt like a punchline in a joke neither of them wanted to laugh at. Beside her, Yunho finally exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. Still, he didn’t look at her.

Y/N didn’t look either.

She hated how this distance made her feel small and unsure, like she was losing a part of herself she hadn’t realized depended so much on him. And worst of all, she hated that she didn’t know how to fix it, or if it was even fixable anymore. Because the longer they stayed apart, the more it felt like they were becoming strangers instead of best friends.

The lecture ended, students gathering their things and filing out, but Y/N lagged behind. She could feel Yunho’s presence beside her, quiet but heavy.

The halls buzzed with chatter, but all she heard was the tension coiling tighter inside her.

Finally, she couldn’t hold it anymore.

“What is your fucking problem, Yunho?” she burst out, voice sharp enough to make heads turn. “So I kissed San—who cares? I’ve kissed a hundred guys.”

He stopped walking, eyes darkening. Without a word, he grabbed her arm, steering her toward the quiet courtyard outside.

Under the shade of a tree, away from prying eyes, his voice dropped low but fierce.

“You think it’s about San?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then what is it? Because you’ve been a dick to me since Friday.”

Yunho scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, maybe the part where I had to find out from Wooyoung that you and San hooked up?”

Y/N blinked. “Oh my god, seriously? That’s what you’re mad about? Also, we didn’t “hook up,” we kissed.”

“Yeah, actually,” he snapped. “We’re supposed to be friends, remember? But somehow everyone knew before I did.”

Y/N’s voice rose. “Well, same to you! I didn’t exactly get a press release about your little night to remember either.”

He stepped closer, jaw clenched. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

“I’m not turning anything! I’m saying this—whatever this is—is bullshit. You’ve been freezing me out and making me feel like crap over one stupid kiss when I could easily have done the same thing to you.”

Yunho’s voice cracked with frustration. He was near shouting now, “For the last time, it’s not just about the kiss, Y/N. God—it’s getting hard to just be your friend, okay?”

She froze. “What does that mean?”

He let out a breath, eyes burning into hers. “If you don’t know, you’re stupid.”

The words hit her like a slap.

Her voice broke. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

They stood there in silence, the wind tugging gently at the leaves above them, hearts pounding too loud to ignore.

“Whatever,” Yunho stalked away. And that one word hurt most of all.

Back at the house, Y/N shut her door and didn’t open it again.

Her throat still burned from yelling, from the way Yunho’s words hit her like salt on open wounds. She hadn’t cried in front of him—not then—but now, alone, her tears came hot and fast. 

A soft knock broke the silence.

“Y/N?” Ivy’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “Hey, can I come in?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. When she finally cracked the door open, Ivy stood there with cautious eyes—and behind her, Wooyoung, looking like someone had kicked his favorite dog. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the look Y/N gave him was enough. He stepped back.

Ivy slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat on the edge of Y/N’s bed and offered a comforting squeeze of her hand.

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the wall, jaw tight, eyes still shiny. Ivy waited, letting the silence sit between them for a moment, warm and undemanding.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Ivy said gently, “but you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, soft and tired. “It’s so stupid. I don’t even know what we’re fighting about.” Y/N threw herself back onto the bed, wrapping herself in her comforter.

“Yes, you do,” Ivy said, voice kind but sure. “You’re both just too scared to admit it.”

Y/N shook her head, a few tears sliding down again. “He made me feel like I was nothing. Like I should’ve known better—like I ruined something.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Ivy said quickly. “You’ve been trying to keep it all together for weeks. Yunho’s the one who’s been hot and cold and all twisted up. You just—snapped. It happens.”

“It’s not supposed to happen with your best friend.”

Ivy tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear and gave her a small, rueful smile. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he stopped being just your best friend a long time ago.”

Y/N blinked, breath catching, but before she could ask Ivy what she meant, a knock thudded against the door—louder, lazier. It sounded a bit like Yunho.

It was Mingi, holding a can of peach tea and wearing an exaggerated pout. “You alive?” he asked, stepping into the room with the air of someone clearly sent on a mission.

“Mingi,” Ivy warned, brows raised.

But Y/N sat up, wiping her eyes. “It’s fine. Let him in.”

“I brought your favorite tea,” he said. Then, clocking the mood instantly, his smile dimmed just a touch. “Okay, cool, so—what if I kidnapped you for a couple hours?”

Y/N blinked at him from her blanket cocoon, mascara smudged under her eyes, face pale and puffy from crying. Still, her lips twitched, just a little.

“There’s that trashy quarters bar with pool tables and sticky floors. You know the one,” Mingi continued, stepping inside like it wasn’t up for debate. “They play early 2000s throwbacks and serve the worst mozzarella sticks in the country. It’s exactly what heartbreak demands.”

“What heartbreak?” Y/N asked, it was a defensive reflex.

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.”

Mingi turned to Y/N. “I do. I think it’s the perfect idea. Get your mind off things. Loud music, cheap drinks, and people worse off than us? It’s practically medicine.”

“I want to get out,” Y/N said before Ivy could protest again. Her voice was hoarse, but there was something solid underneath it. “I want to feel normal again. Or at least... distracted.”

Mingi’s grin softened, not teasing now but kind. “Alright then,” he said, stepping closer, “let’s go make terrible choices and pretend we’re okay for a little while.”

He held out his hand, palm up, silly and solemn all at once.

Y/N looked at it, then at Ivy—then took Mingi’s hand.

The bar was everything Mingi had promised—and worse, in the best kind of way.

The floors were definitely sticky. The neon signs buzzed like they were on their last leg. A Britney Spears remix pulsed through speakers that hadn’t been replaced since the mid-2000s, and every table seemed to have someone losing at pool.

Y/N nursed a beer, leaning awkwardly over the scratched-up felt of the table as she lined up a shot. The cue ball clunked off the side instead of hitting her target, and Mingi let out a low whistle.

“Shut up,” she muttered, not really mad. Her cheeks were warm from the alcohol—or maybe just embarassment.

Mingi, ever the hype man, gave her a dramatic thumbs-up. “Honestly? You missed with flair. That’s worth something.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile, and passed him the cue.

“So,” Mingi said casually as he chalked the stick. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Yunho?”

Y/N took a long sip of her beer, buying time. “He freaked out about San,” she said finally. “Like—freaked out. Said it was weird, got all distant. We fought.”

Mingi lined up a shot, paused. “Well… I mean. It was weird.”

Y/N blinked at him. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean—not like bad weird. Just… surprising. I mean, if you were gonna hook up with anyone in the group…”

He took the shot. The ball sank with a satisfying clack.

“…it would’ve been Yunho. Obviously. With how you guys flirt?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “We do not flirt.”

Mingi gave her a look. The kind that said, girl, please.

Y/N crossed her arms. “We’re just friends.”

He held his hands up in surrender, smirking. “Okay. Cool. Sure. Just friends. With smoldering tension and weird eye contact and the way you two act like you’re about to fuck or have fucked.”

Y/N grabbed the cue again and took a haphazard shot, knocking two balls in opposite directions—neither of them remotely close to a pocket.

She didn’t look at Mingi.

“I just… don’t want to lose him as a friend,” she mumbled.

Mingi tilted his head, all humor gone from his expression. “So don’t.”

Y/N gave a half-shrug, suddenly too full of feelings and too empty of energy to sort through them. “I need another drink,” she muttered, setting down the cue and making a beeline for the bar.

She welcomed the noise—the clatter of pool balls, the low thrum of bad remixes, the conversations buzzing around her that had nothing to do with anything she cared about.

And then she looked up—and froze.

Behind the bar, pouring a beer with one hand and adjusting his backwards cap with the other, was none other than Bobby.

Of course.

He spotted her and grinned, a slow, lazy kind of smile that made it very clear he was used to being looked at like she was looking at him now.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, sliding over. “Beer?”

“Please,” Y/N said, a little breathless from surprise. 

He handed her a fresh can of what she was drinking. “On the house.”

Before she could even thank him, he slipped a small square napkin across the bar. She watched as he scrawled his number on it in quick, confident writing.

“You ever get bored of the company you came with…” he said, letting the rest hang in the air before turning to another customer.

Y/N blinked, beer in hand, heart thudding in that dangerous, stupid way.

When she made it back to the pool table, Mingi was already watching her with narrowed eyes.

“Was that Bobby Kim?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Mingi made a face. “Ugh. Yeah. We had a production class together last year. He slept with our TA and ghosted her immediately. It was so awkward after that. Like, the kind of awkward that gives you secondhand embarassment.”

Y/N stared at him, blinking. “What?”

“I’m just saying, he’s not exactly subtle. Or… normal.”

She glanced back at the bar, where Bobby had returned to pouring drinks like he hadn’t just slid his number to someone mid-shift.

Y/N took a sip of her beer. “Yeah. I’m definitely not bored enough for that.”

Mingi held out a fist for her to bump. “Atta girl.”

But later that night, back in her house, curled under a blanket with the a show flickering quietly on her laptop in the background, Y/N’s eyes drifted to the napkin on her nightstand.

Bobby’s number. Still there. Still waiting. Begging her to do something dumb.

Mingi’s warning echoed in her head but so did the memory of Yunho’s face in the courtyard. The fight. The heat behind his words. The silence afterward.

Y/N stared at the number. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just curiosity. Just boredom. Just reclaiming some kind of control after the way her week had gone off the rails.

So she texted him.

Y/N:

hey. it’s the girl from the bar. thanks for the beer :)

She hit send before she could think better of it, then tossed her phone to the other side of the bed like it had burned her fingers.

Two minutes later, it lit up.

Bobby:

was hoping you’d text. Y/N right? you free tomorrow night?

Y/N swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the strap of her tote. “I’m not wasting time. I’m handling it. I’m literally at the library right now.” The words came out steady, but guilt churned in her stomach—memories from last night flickering like a bad reel. Her mom wasn’t wrong. She could be doing more. She was wasting time.

But still. A girl had to let loose once in a while… right?

“You say that every time. I just hope you’re not getting distracted. You’re not a kid anymore.”

“I know, I’m doing what I can, Mom.”

The line went quiet for a beat too long, as if her mom was going to say more, but eventually she just sighed. “Anyway. Keep me posted. And send the updated transcript after you get a chance to talk to your professor.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, voice low. “Will do.”

She hung up before her hands could shake and went straight inside.

By the time Mingi and Yunho found her—hours later, tucked deep in the stacks with an energy drink, a battered O-Chem textbook, and her laptop surrounded by highlighters—she looked like she’d been there since sunrise.

Yunho leaned against the edge of her table, eyeing her warily. “How is your head not pounding right now?”

Y/N didn’t look up. “I don’t have time for a headache.”

Mingi slid into the seat across from her, balancing his iced coffee like it was sacred. “Bro. How does your body handle that? You literally left the bar eight hours ago. When did you sleep?”

She finally glanced up, pen in her mouth, dark circles under her eyes. “I’m built different.”

“You’re built like a caffeine gremlin,” Mingi muttered, pulling out a protein bar.

Yunho stayed quiet, but he watched her a little too long. There was something tight in his chest that hadn’t left since last night. But this wasn’t the moment to bring it up. Not yet.

Friends filtered in and out of the library for the rest of the day, some staying long enough to pretend they were being productive, others just dropping by for moral support. Y/N barely noticed. By the time she finally packed up and headed home, the sun had already dipped low behind the campus buildings.

Inside the house, the TV was casting a flickering glow over the living room. Ivy was curled up on the couch with a bowl of spaghetti, eyes glued to a reality show where two women were screaming about a man who seemed to only possess half a brain cell.

“Long day?” Ivy asked without looking away from the screen.

Y/N dropped her tote by the door and groaned. “My eyeballs are vibrating. I think I broke my brain.”

“Same,” Ivy said, twirling noodles around her fork. “Except I broke mine watching this trash.”

Y/N opened the fridge, then closed it. Opened a cupboard. Closed it again. “Why do we never have anything except condiments and half a lemon?”

“Because Patti keeps saying she’s going grocery shopping and then doesn’t.”

“Is she home?”

Ivy slurped a bite of noodles. “In her room, I think. Probably watching true crime and judging us.”

Y/N pulled out an apple from the fruit bowl—slightly bruised—and grabbed the peanut butter jar. She busied herself slicing the apple and eating half the slices as she went.

“God, I need something sweet after today. I feel like I’ve been running a marathon in my head since 10 a.m.”

“You’re a nerd,” Ivy said fondly, finally glancing over at her. “But like... a cute nerd. Oh my God—I forgot to tell you!” Ivy perked up.

Y/N raised a brow, mid-chew. “Tell me what?”

“After you left last night, Woo and I ran into Bobby Kim.” Ivy turned to face her, grinning. “And he asked about you.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah! I didn’t even know he knew my name,” Ivy said, gesturing with her fork. “But he knew I was your friend. And he definitely knew your name.”

Y/N blinked, unsure whether to laugh or short-circuit. “That’s... random.”

But it wasn’t, really. Not when she had been flirting with him every rare chance she caught. He was her white whale – the only guy she couldn’t get to fall all over her immediately. He was a senior in the journalism school so they rarely crossed paths. But Bobby was the kind of guy people either rolled their eyes at or crushed on in secret (and sometimes both). He had an aura about him that was unmatched. He was hot but in a sharp-featured way that made you look twice, with this disheveled, could-have-rolled-out-of-bed-on-purpose look that somehow worked for him. He had that slippery kind of charm that wasn’t loud or obvious—he never tried too hard—but he didn’t have to.

He was also that guy on the school news channel. The one who hosted campus reports that no one took seriously until clips of him interviewing drunk students outside of bars started going viral. It was equal parts unhinged and hilarious, and for better or worse, it had made Bobby a campus legend. Girls reposted his interviews like they were thirst traps. Even professors knew who he was.

And apparently... he knew who she was?

Ivy grinned like a cat. “He asked if you were still there. Seemed kinda bummed when I said you’d left.”

Y/N tried to play it cool, reaching for another apple slice. “Okay, but like... why?”

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “You tell me. Maybe Mr. Anchorman has a little crush.”

Y/N scoffed, but her face was warm. No way. Right?

[Text Thread: Y/N & Yunho]

Y/N: guess who asked about me last night 👀

Yu: Mingi bc he can’t survive 3 hours without u

Y/N: LMAO true but no Bobby Kim

Yu: the news guy???

Y/N: “the news guy” 💀 say it with some respect, he’s a campus icon

Yu: ur into dudes who interview drunk people outside of frat houses now?

Y/N: don’t kink shame me 💅 he’s hot in that weird burn out boy who cares way

Yu: he wears hats indoors can’t trust that

Y/N: you’re just mad bc he has more screen time than u

Yu: false. I’m mad bc u’re texting me abt another guy instead of inviting me over to eat your food like a good friend

Y/N: We don’t have any food, besides don’t act like you’d say yes if I did

seen 9:36 PM

Y/N stared at her screen, waiting for a response. Once five minutes passed, she started typing something flirty and dumb, then deleted it. Then typed something casual. Deleted that too.

She dropped the phone face-down on her bed, accepting he wouldn’t be texting her back. Typical. 

The remainder of the weekend bled away fast. Monday bled into Tuesday, and before Y/N could blink, she was back in Genetics—same freezing lecture hall, same hard seats. Except this time, it was Yunho’s turn to be late. Y/N tugged her hoodie tighter around her shoulders and glanced sideways just as Yunho dropped into the seat next to her, balancing an iced coffee and a granola bar in one hand like it was a sport.

“You’re late,” she whispered as the professor started clicking through slides.

“And yet somehow still more focused than you,” he whispered back, sliding the coffee toward her. Black, just how she liked it.

She arched a brow, taking the drink but not thanking him. “Trying to butter me up?”

He smirked. “Trying to keep you awake.”

The professor's voice broke through their low conversation. “Today we’re looking at sexual selection and genetic compatibility—key mechanisms in evolutionary biology.”

Yunho leaned back in his chair, lips twitching. “Sounds fun.”

Y/N shot him a warning look. She took a long sip of coffee as the lecture continued.

“Sexual selection often includes two major forces,” the professor went on. “Intrasexual competition—usually males competing with other males—and intersexual choice—typically females choosing mates based on preferred traits.”

Yunho leaned over again. “So basically: fight for the girl, or be hot enough she picks you.”

Y/N snorted. “Wow, you really distilled all of evolutionary biology into a frat party.”

He tapped his pen against her notebook. “You’re not denying I’m right.”

The professor clicked to a new slide: Genetic Compatibility and Mate Choice.

“In some species, mate selection isn’t just about looks or dominance,” they said. “It’s also about genetic complementarity—choosing a partner whose genes balance out your own.”

Yunho’s tone shifted—lower, more teasing. “So you’re saying opposites attract. For better DNA.”

Y/N tried to keep her expression neutral, but her pulse picked up. “I don’t think that’s what he’s saying. It’s finding the traits that match yours. You know… same wavelength.”

“That’s boring,” Yunho said easily, nudging her knee under the table. “Where’s the fun in predictable? I mean, look at you and me.”

She turned to him, gaze sharp. “You think we’re opposites?”

“I think we’re terrible for each other.” A pause. “In a way that probably means something.”

Her breath caught, but the professor was still talking, and Y/N forced herself to look forward, to take notes she wouldn’t remember.

Beside her, Yunho scribbled something on the corner of her paper.

She glanced down.

We’d make great babies.

She nearly choked on her coffee.

Y/N walked out of lecture with her notes barely legible and her thoughts even worse. Yunho’s flirting—or whatever that had been—rattled around her brain like a song stuck on repeat. Terrible for each other, but we’d make great babies? Was that a joke? A weird, offhand comment? Did he really think they were terrible for each other?

She shook her head like it might clear the static. It probably didn’t mean anything. He was always like that. Teasing. Pushing buttons. Just being Yunho. But something about his words made her question if he really liked her…did he think she was terrible?

Still, when he caught up beside her, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and glancing down with that easy smile, she tensed like she’d been caught thinking about him.

“You going back home?” he asked.

She hesitated. Her usual answer would be yes, but today, something in her shifted. “Nah. I’m gonna hit the library. I need to actually absorb some of this stuff.”

Yunho raised his eyebrows like she’d told him she was joining the priesthood. “Damn. What’s gotten into you? Did your mom–”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” she said dryly, nudging his arm with hers. “I know I play it cool, but I actually care about school.”

He smiled, “I know, and that is cool. I, on the other hand, am going to go eat half my fridge and nap like it’s an Olympic sport. Bye!”

Y/N forced a laugh, but the disappointment hit sharper than she expected. She shrugged it off. “Well, you’ve got a talent. Don’t waste it.”

They parted ways at the quad. She told herself it was good—she needed focus. But still, her steps toward the library felt heavier than they should’ve. She couldn’t stop wondering if he would’ve stayed if she’d asked.

Y/N had cracked open her textbook with the best of intentions. Ten minutes later, her notes lay untouched, her laptop screen glowing with a tab of Bobby Kim’s Instagram. It started innocently enough—a harmless scroll, a “just wondering what he’s up to” curiosity. But now she was six reels deep, watching a clip of him interviewing a drunk girl who couldn’t remember their mascot’s name.

He was so fine, it was annoying. Not in a typical frat-boy way either—Bobby had this rough-edged, cocky energy. He looked like he’d flirt with your mom just to prove he could and then make it feel like a compliment.

Something about that made Y/N’s stomach twist in a not-unpleasant way.

“Whoa. That’s a lot of leather.”

She jumped.

Yeosang stood beside her, damp from a workout and holding a protein shake like it was a natural extension of his arm. His hoodie was tied around his waist, and there was a light sheen of sweat across his forehead, but he looked unfairly composed for someone who had just appeared from nowhere.

Y/N minimized the tab a second too late.

He didn’t comment. Just nodded toward the empty chair across from her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it,” she said, moving her backpack aside.

He settled in quietly, sipping his shake. He tugged his hoodie off his shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair with practiced ease, then cracked open a protein bar with one hand, pulling out his laptop with another.

A beat passed. He glanced at Y/N’s screen. Then her face. Then, with the soft directness only Yeosang could pull off, he said, “You and Yunho still playing your little…whatever-it-is fliration game?”

Y/N looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a patient, amused look. “Just wondering if I should start placing bets. That’s all.”

She scoffed, suddenly very interested in rearranging her pens. “There’s nothing to bet on, we’re just friends.”

Yeosang hummed noncommittally, leaning back in his chair. “Sure. Just figured I’d check before you convince yourself Bobby Kim is anything more than a haircut and a camera.”

Y/N shot him a look. “He’s a broadcast journalism major.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

She didn’t reply, but this time when she looked back at her screen, it wasn’t Bobby’s profile staring back.

It was the half-finished message from Yunho she hadn’t hit send on earlier. Y/N chewed at her lip. Why was she overthinking everything? 

That Thursday night the basement thumped with music, floor sticky with spilled beer and the buzz of too many conversations happening at once. But over at the pong table, the real show was going down.

“Ivy, focus!” Wooyoung shouted, dramatically crouching beside her like a coach in the final seconds of a championship game. “We’re down to one cup. One! You were born for this.”

Across the table, Y/N was already grinning, hips swaying slightly to the beat as she tossed the ball from hand to hand. Yunho stood beside her, dialed in, lips twitching with focus.

“Should we tell them we’ve been hustling this whole time?” he murmured under his breath.

“Let them have hope first,” Y/N replied.

The friends crowded around the table—Mingi yelling like it was a football game, Jongho playfully heckling everyone, San nearly jumping up and down in excitement, and Yeosang watching with his usual calm intensity.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at the single remaining cup. She bounced the ball once. Twice. Then promptly overthrew it into a corner of the basement.

“I panicked!” she gasped, spinning back toward Wooyoung.

“Okay, okay—deep breath,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. “Remember the Island Method.”

“The what—”

“You visualize the cup as an island. Just one tiny island in a sea of chaos. And you are a beautiful, deadly pirate invading it.”

Ivy burst out laughing but took the ball again. She closed one eye. Squinted. A beat of silence.

“Island,” she whispered dramatically—and tossed.

The ball arced through the air and plunked into the last cup.

The room exploded. Mingi nearly knocked over a lamp. Jongho whooped. San screamed, “She DID it!” into a stranger’s shoulder.

Wooyoung grabbed Ivy’s face in both hands and kissed her—once, twice, three times in quick succession.

“You did it!” he shouted, pulling back just to kiss her again.

Ivy giggled, breathless. “I am the pirate queen!”

“And I’m your hot first mate,” he declared, already spinning her in a circle as the next game tried to set up.

Yunho turned to Y/N, raising an eyebrow. “Island Method?”

“I hate that it worked,” she said, already grabbing more beer.

“I can’t believe we handed them that game, terrible idea,” Yunho said.

“Aw, but look how happy they are!” Y/N gestured over to Wooyoung, lifting Ivy’s arm like a prize boxer.

The crowd’s cheers faded into background noise as Y/N leaned over the pong table. “Well, like you said, we are terrible together. Or maybe just I am.”

Yunho’s smile faltered, a flicker of something sharp flashing behind his eyes. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

She shrugged, teasing but a little too pointed. “Just stating facts.”

The smile slipped from his lips, replaced by a tight line. Yunho’s gaze darkened, and suddenly the easy charm was gone. He folded his arms, stepping back, closing himself off like a shield.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” he said, voice calm but clipped.

Y/N’s grin faltered, the air between them thickening. “Okay,” she said with forced chipperness, “I’ll be here.”

Without looking back, she spun away and drifted toward San, who was laughing with a couple of guys near the makeshift dance floor.

“Dance with me,” she said to San, not meeting Yunho’s eyes. San grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the rhythm. The music thumped louder, bodies moving in time, lights flashing in bursts. When Yunho came back from the bathroom, he hung back for a moment, watching the scene. Then he slipped into the group, letting the music take over as he joined the dance.

Every now and then, his eyes found Y/N’s across the room, and she’d catch his glance with a raise of her eyebrow. The unspoken words hung in the air–the tension growing heavier the longer they went without speaking. 

Y/N spun away from Yunho and back toward the crowd, trying to shake the weight. Yunho let her. The night shifted, pulling them in different directions.

Y/N caught glimpses of Yunho laughing easily with a pretty girl at the edge of the room, leaning in close. Something flickered inside Y/N—a mix of frustration, confusion, and something else she wasn’t ready to name.

Without thinking, she grabbed San’s arm, tugging him toward the edge of the room where the music thumped a little softer. San looked surprised but didn’t protest.

Before she knew it, lips were pressed to lips—hot, sloppy, and unplanned. The world spun and the music blurred as they tangled together. Y/N knew she probably shouldn’t be doing this. She knew it with every sharp breath and quickening heartbeat, with every small voice in her head reminding her who San was—her best friend’s best friend, a constant in their chaotic little crew. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

Because San was so hot—the way his hair fell just right, the confident tilt of his jaw even under the dim, flickering lights, the easy laugh that made her forget everything else.

And honestly? It felt good. Too good to stop and think about the consequences.

She had never done this before, with any of their friends. This was definitely crossing a line.

But right then, all she could think was—who cares?

Across the room, Mingi and Yeosang exchanged panicked looks, even in their own intoxicated states. Yunho, fortunately, was fully focused on the girl he’d been talking to. He gave her a small nod and quietly stepped away, disappearing out the back door.

By the end of the night, Y/N and San had drifted apart, each slipping back into the rhythm of the party. Whatever had happened between them belonged to that moment, and it didn’t have to change a thing.

Later, Y/N stepped out onto the porch, craving a breath of fresh air. There, leaning against the railing, was Yunho. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between his fingers, twisting upward into the cool night.

The streetlight painted shifting shadows across his face, softening his usually guarded expression into something almost vulnerable.

“Hey,” he said quietly, eyes locking with hers.

“Hey,” she answered, her voice catching just a little.

San always kept a pair of flip-flops in his car for when her heels betrayed her. Wooyoung lied to her mom about “study sessions,” and Yeosang brought her greasy burgers with quiet eyes and no judgment. Mingi taught her how to throw a punch and scare people twice her size.

And Yunho… Yunho was the one who was always there.

Like this morning.

The lecture hall was already half full when she slipped in, a little too loud and a little too late, balancing an iced coffee in one hand and her tote in the other. Her sweatshirt was rumpled, her tank top still clinging with the ghost of some guy's cologne from last night, and her eyeliner was smudged beneath her eyes in a way that might’ve been tragic if she weren’t grinning about it.

“Morning, trouble,” Yunho muttered without looking up from his laptop.

She dropped into the seat beside him with a theatrical sigh, nudging his elbow as she reached for her highlighter. “Did we start?”

“Three minutes ago.” He glanced at her, eyes skimming over the telltale signs of a night out. “You still smell like tequila.”

She offered a sideways grin. “So, same as always.”

“Consistent,” he said dryly.

Yunho was the exact opposite of her chaos: pressed sweater sleeves, laptop already open, a page of notes neatly color-coded. Calm, dependable, quietly brilliant.

And for some reason, always next to her.

“What are we starting on?” she whispered.

“Gene expression. Catch up,” he said, sliding his notebook a fraction toward her.

Y/N was already half-tuning him out.

Because Bobby Kim was walking up the aisle, just leaving from the earlier section. Backpack slung casually over one shoulder, hair pushed back like he too had just rolled out of someone’s bed and didn’t care who knew it. His eyes landed on her—slowly, deliberately—and skimmed down, then back up.

She raised a brow. Smiled just a little.

He grinned, sharp and cocky.

And kept walking.

Y/N exhaled, watching him disappear through the lecture doors.

Next to her, Yunho didn’t even bother pretending he hadn’t noticed. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“You do realize he’s the human equivalent of a traffic accident, right? Everyone looks, but no one should get close.”

She grinned lazily. “So dramatic.”

“He has a reputation.”

“Hot people usually do.”

Yunho turned to her then, gaze steady. “He’s not the guy who brings you soup when you’re hungover. He’s the reason you need the soup.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something back, but paused because Yunho didn’t sound like he was teasing. He sounded like he was tired.

By the time class ended, the midday sun had started to burn off the lingering haze of Y/N’s hangover. She blinked against it as she and Yunho walked across the quad.

“Remind me why we picked a major that requires organic chemistry?” she groaned, dragging her feet as they passed a chalkboard advertising some club’s bake sale.

“You picked it because you said you wanted to ‘understand chemistry front and back.’” Yunho gave her a sidelong glance. “And you thought the professor was hot.”

“Ah. Right.” She squinted. “Still worth it.”

“Glad you think so, genius. The curve’s gonna hate you.”

They reached the familiar stretch of cracked sidewalk that split into two paths—one toward the girls’ house, the other toward the boys’. The two houses sat crookedly across from each other on a sleepy residential street just off campus, half-covered in ivy and half-covered in beer stains. The kind of place where the lawn was always patchy and someone was always yelling out a window.

It felt like home.

Yunho turned down his side automatically, and Y/N followed, as she always did.

The front door was already open, letting out a breeze of potato chip dust and controller clicks. Inside, San was stretched across the sagging couch, functioning more as a piece of furniture than a person while Ivy perched comfortably on his back. She was locked in battle with Mingi, both of them hunched over controllers, eyes glued to the screen.

“WE’RE LAGGING, I SWEAR TO GOD,” Mingi shouted.

“Maybe because you’re playing like it’s 2010,” Ivy snapped, not even glancing at him as she knocked his character off the map.

“TRAITOR!” Mingi gasped.

“It’s called skill,” she said sweetly.

“Hi all,” Y/N chirped, stepping over pairs of tangled sneakers by the doorway.

“Y/N, you’re alive!” San grinned from under Ivy. “I thought Leo carried you off into the night and we’d never see you again.”

“I wouldn’t go down that easy,” she said with a wink, collapsing into the beanbag chair with a dramatic groan. “Also, he ghosted me halfway through a beer pong game, so... tragic.”

“Justice,” Yunho muttered, flopping onto the couch and snatching a controller out of Mingi’s hands before he could react.

“Hey!” Mingi protested.

“Balance has been restored,” Yunho said, settling in and selecting his main with surgical precision.

Y/N glanced around. “Where’s Yeosang?”

“Library. He’s been in a committed relationship with the anatomy textbook all week,” Ivy said. She slid off San’s back and sprawled on the floor next to Y/N. “Which is good, because we are not. Speaking of, O-Chem grades just dropped.”

Everyone groaned.

Mingi whipped out his phone, dramatically shielding the screen as he checked. “Okay, please... not another C... not another—oh COME ON.”

Yunho tapped his screen a second later and raised an eyebrow. “B+. Better than last time.”

San peeked over his shoulder. “That’s because you study like you’re training for war.”

Y/N pulled out her phone and hesitated, thumb hovering over the student portal. She was content to stay silent, but Ivy caught the shift in her expression instantly.

“Don’t even think about hiding it,” Ivy said, already leaning over. “What’d you get?”

Y/N groaned and angled the screen away. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That means it’s either a disaster or she crushed it,” San said from the couch.

Ivy snatched the phone before Y/N could react. Her eyes widened. “No way.”

“What?” Mingi asked, suspicious.

“She got an A,” Ivy announced, practically scandalized.

A stunned beat followed.

Mingi let his phone tumble dramatically onto the carpet. “HOW?! You were horizontal all week! You slept through two review sessions! You Snapchatted me from a bathroom stall at 2 a.m.!”

“I’m… gifted,” Y/N said with a shrug, lips curving into a smug little smile.

“She’s unholy,” Yunho muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’re an academic menace,” Mingi said, pointing at her like she was a witch.

Y/N just leaned back into the beanbag, smug and unapologetic, already texting Yeosang a screenshot.

“She studied with Yunho,” Ivy pointed out, nudging her in the ribs. “Maybe you should take notes.”

“Or maybe Yunho just does her homework for her,” San teased, waggling his brows.

Yunho’s ears turned the faintest shade of pink. “I do not.”

“You’d want to,” Mingi snorted.

“Okay, shut up before I put you all in a group chat with my mom…you don’t want her asking to about your grades, and you know she will!” Y/N said, pulling a pillow into her lap and tossing it halfheartedly at Mingi’s head.

Mingi dodged it and leaned over the couch. “Anyway—tonight. You all are still coming over, right?”

“The house party?” Ivy asked, suddenly more alert.

“Yeah. Just us and some of the dance team and, like, a keg and a half. Nothing crazy.”

“Oh, so your definition of nothing crazy,” Y/N said.

Mingi grinned. “Exactly.”

Y/N looked at Ivy, who raised her brows with an eager smirk. “Obviously,” they said in unison.

“Good,” Mingi said. “Because if you bail I’m sending Jongho to drag you out of bed with a megaphone.”

“He would never,” Ivy said as Y/N simultaneously stood up and stretched, “We wouldn’t miss it.”

As she crossed back over to her house to finish out the day, she felt lighter than she had in days. Maybe she was a mess. Maybe she didn’t know what she wanted from half the people she flirted with.

But this? These people, this porch, this everyday noise? She wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, the music was already shaking the floorboards of the boys’ house. Someone had dragged a string of cheap LED lights across the living room ceiling, and there was a half-deflated balloon stuck in the corner from a birthday no one remembered. The keg was working overtime, the music was too loud, and there were already two half-finished games of beer pong happening simultaneously.

It was, in other words, a perfect college night.

Y/N showed up with Ivy just after ten, both of them freshly lip-glossed and smelling like jasmine and mischief. Yunho was in the kitchen refilling his cup when they walked in. He didn’t even have to look to know it was her—he could hear her laugh, airy and a little sharp, the kind that made people turn around.

She found him immediately, elbowing him in the ribs like she meant it. “Wow. The blue shirt? Dressing up for me now?”

Yunho didn’t even flinch. He sipped his drink, eyes sharp. “You said it was the only one that made me look like I had a personality.”

“Mm. Still doesn’t fix your zero presence on socials, but at least you’re trying.”

He handed her a red cup without looking. “I figured I’d impress you with my devastating charm instead.”

She took the drink with a grin. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Yunho shot her a look, amused. “I’m trying to get a thank-you, but appreciation clearly isn’t in your DNA.”

“Neither is subtlety,” she said, bumping his hip with hers before sauntering off toward the living room, just slow enough to make sure he was watching.

He was.

A minute later, he found her by the kitchen archway, nursing her drink, hips already moving a little to the beat. Hair loose, mouth curved like she knew every eye in the room would land on her eventually. Just how she liked it.

This was the little game they played. Best friends by day, will-they-won’t-they by night. It was a game of chicken of who would fold first. But honestly, Yunho had stopped pretending he didn’t feel it months ago—the way her laugh made him forget his name, the way she leaned in too close and never quite pulled away. 

Yunho leaned in close, voice low and rough against the music. “You gonna behave tonight?”

Y/N turned her head slightly, letting their shoulders brush. “Define behave.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he muttered—but the grin tugging at his mouth gave him away.

They ended up tangled on the sagging couch not long after—legs overlapping, laughing too loudly, her head falling back onto his shoulder when she laughed. It wasn’t new. They’d been like this for months. A little too close. A little too comfortable. Friends who knew each other’s favorite takeout orders and worst decisions. Friends who drifted toward each other in every room without realizing it.

“Yunho,” she said after a long sip of beer, “tell me I look hot tonight.”

He glanced over her, slowly, his gaze burning. “You always do.”

Her smile cracked slightly at the corners, a tiny flicker of something neither of them named.

Across the room, Ivy and Wooyoung were locked in their usual back-and-forth. It started with bickering—he'd forgotten to chill her cider again, and she’d made fun of his playlist—and escalated into Ivy throwing a chip at his forehead.

“You’re impossible!” she laughed, shoving at his chest.

“You like it,” Wooyoung said, and before anyone could roll their eyes, he grabbed her face and kissed her like they were in the third act of a teen movie.

“Gross,” San muttered, shielding his eyes with one hand.

Mingi appeared from the kitchen, cheeks flushed, holding two red cups. “We’re going out,” he announced.

“To the bars?” Yunho asked.

Mingi nodded. “Dance floor’s calling,” he said with a wiggle of his hips.

The bar was sticky and loud, the floor pulsing beneath their feet like a second heartbeat. Bodies pressed close, shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and cheap liquor. Bass rattled the walls, the kind that hit right in your chest and made conversation almost impossible.

Y/N moved through it all like she belonged there, slipping between people with Ivy right behind her, both of them glowing under the neon haze. Her hair was still a little damp from the brisk walk over, and her fresh drink was already half gone.

They’d barely made it to the middle of the floor when Ivy let out a sharp laugh, pointing. “Look at him!”

Wooyoung had already gotten himself into a dance-off with some guy twice his size, arms flailing with dramatic flair. He was dead serious about it, which only made it worse.

“Honey!” Ivy shrieked, breaking away from Y/N as Wooyoung spun too hard and nearly wiped out.

Y/N paused, grinning as Ivy rushed to Wooyoung’s side like a coach at halftime, already yelling instructions he definitely wouldn’t follow.

Yunho trailed behind, beer in hand, grinning with that easy, boyish charm that got him out of more trouble than it should’ve. He wasn’t exactly a party guy, but he never turned one down either. The kind of guy who said “just one drink” and ended up on someone’s rooftop at sunrise. He wasn’t above the chaos—he just dressed it up better.

There was a reason he and Y/N were best friends. When she wanted trouble, he was always down to match her stride for stride.

Y/N nudged him with a sly smile. “So, Mister ‘I-Don’t-Get-Laid-Easily,’” she teased, referencing an old joke, “breaking your streak tonight?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that all you girls ever think about? Sex?”

Y/N shot him a cheeky look, wiggling her eyebrows. “Don’t pretend you’re any different.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked to a cluster of girls laughing nearby. “It’s not as simple as you think. You don’t just walk up and—boom—make it happen.”

“Oh, please.” Y/N leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Those girls? Cute as hell. Especially the one with the dark brown hair. And you’re sitting here acting like it’s a struggle—you know you’re good looking.”

He caught her gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Look, you’ve got to know when to play and when to wait.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a fancy excuse to me.”

Yunho’s grin turned sharper, a little darker. “If you think it’s so easy—and if you think one of those girls is so damn pretty—why don’t you try?”

Challenge accepted.

Y/N made a show of scanning the room, then locked eyes with the dark-haired girl near the bar. Confident as ever, she sauntered over, hips swinging, heart beating a little faster than usual.

Yunho watched, eyebrows raised, as Y/N leaned in close to the girl, whispered something, and then—just like that—the girl smiled and kissed her.

Y/N returned, triumphant, sliding back beside Yunho, who shook his head with a grin.

Mingi, who’d been watching from the side, whistled low. “Damn. That was hot.”

Yunho caught Y/N’s eye, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “So… are we going home with her, or what?”

Y/N laughed and smacked his arm. “Keep dreaming, asshole.”

He chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Color me impressed.”

They were everything the cameras wanted. Everything the headlines would eat up.

And for a while, it was enough — the glamor, the applause, their love story.

They filed into the auditorium, guided by handlers and the quiet hum of flashing cameras. Everything glittered — sequins on dresses, the sheen of champagne, gold-plated award plaques, and the polished charisma of people used to being looked at.

Taehyung rested his hand lightly on her waist as they moved toward their seats near the front. She adjusted the hem of her gown, crossed her legs with practiced grace, and leaned in just enough for the photographers to catch the shine on her full lips. When she turned to smile at him, he returned it without hesitation. 

Then, slowly, the lights began to dim. The stage shifted, shedding its harsh glare for something gentler — a single spotlight blooming at center, a low guitar note curling through the air like a memory. It was a song he hadn’t heard in years.

It was the kind of song you don’t even remember loving until it begins again. The kind you used to hum on instinct, half-asleep in the back of a van, or walking home under flickering streetlights.

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.

Next to him, his girlfriend began to sway, shoulders loose, mouthing the lyrics under her breath. She looked beautiful in the soft glow, soft and silver and untouchable.

But when he turned to look at her, it wasn’t her.

For a flicker of a second, it was Y/N.

Hair tucked behind one ear, lips pressed into the beginning of a smile, eyes locked on his like she knew every thought he hadn’t said aloud.

It knocked the air out of him.

He blinked. She was gone.

His girlfriend laughed softly beside him, brushing his hand with hers. He nodded, smiled on cue.

But the song kept playing, and somewhere deep in his chest, something began to stir — not loudly, not all at once. Just enough to remember.

You were all that I had for a long time

Years ago, Taehyung lay on a frayed picnic blanket, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making the fine hairs cling to his skin. The late afternoon sun hung heavy above them, warm and drowsy. Wrappers from a shared popcorn bag and half-eaten cookies were tucked beneath the corners of the blanket so they wouldn’t blow away in the breeze. The grass prickled beneath his bare arms, and the air smelled like summer — warm earth, sunscreen, and her.

Y/N had lifted her hand to the sky, fingers spread wide. “If you try hard enough,” she said, “you can hold the sun.”

Taehyung mimicked her, pressing his hand next to hers. Sunlight spilled through the gaps between their fingers, casting gold on their skin.

“You see that?” she said, eyes crinkling in delight. “We’re glowing.”

He didn’t speak. He just looked at her like she was the sun.

She's a dream, the best thing to happen to me

The roar of the crowd snapped him back. Cameras flashed. His girlfriend kissed his cheek as they announced her name. Best Solo Performance. She bowed gracefully, flashing the shy smile that made her famous.

Taehyung clapped. Held her hand.

But his throat was dry. His chest too tight.

*And I still think back to you on a bad night*

He remembered the bikes.

It was a hot summer afternoon—the kind where the air shimmers off the black pavement and everything feels heavy and still. Sweat slicked down Taehyung’s back, sticking his shirt to his skin as he gripped the handlebars. Both of them wore jean shorts, cruising down a narrow street on their bikes—the clatter of chains and rattling bells mixing with distant cicadas.

Y/N rode barefoot.

Before they even left the house, Taehyung had said firmly, “Put on your shoes.”

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I hate shoes,” she said with a grin. “They take too long to put on.”

“Hey!” Taehyung called after her as she ran toward their bikes. “You can’t ride a bike without shoes. It’s dangerous.”

“No! My feet are tough,” she shot back, grinning like it was a dare.

Before he could say more, she let out a sharp yelp as she finally reached the sun-baked pavement — the scorching ground had caught her foot. She quickly jumped on her bike, hopping and laughing all at once.

“Ah! It burns!” she cried, precariously balancing as she pedaled away.

Taehyung slowed and shook his head, laughing as she clumsily regained control. Once she was moving, he called after her with mock sternness, “I told you so.”

“I regret nothing!” she shouted gleefully, the heat and freedom making her wild and unstoppable.

Then, without warning, her bike hit a dip in the road. She wobbled and fell, skin grazing the rough asphalt as she landed hard on the street.

“Y/N!” Taehyung gasped, dropping his bike and rushing to her side.

She had scraped her knee hard against the rough asphalt.

Panic surged through Taehyung. Without a second thought, and sprinted home, heart pounding like the world was ending. Inside, he tore through drawers and cabinets, desperate until his fingers finally closed around a Band-Aid.

Breathless, he ran back, guilt gnawing at him with every step — wishing he had been faster, stronger, more careful.

When he reached her, he braced himself for tears or pain.

But she wasn’t crying.

She was crouched on the curb, dirt smudged across her cheek, eyes wide and bright as she gently cupped something small and wriggling in her hands.

“He looks like something from Star Wars,” she said, grinning from ear to ear, cradling an ugly little toad like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Taehyung grinned at the sight of the creature.

In that ridiculous moment, he thought he had never loved anyone more.

She's a dream, all that I thought it could be

Now, in his spotless kitchen, his girlfriend moves like a dream — graceful and sure. She brushes a stray strand of her long black hair back from her large, beautiful eyes before chopping with practiced ease. The rich scent of garlic and butter fills the air as she sears scallops, then plates them delicately, like she’s been trained for this exact moment.

“How do you have the energy for this?” Taehyung asks quietly, leaning against the counter with a small smile.

She glances up, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “I don’t know — I always feel energized after big events like that,” she says softly.

“This is my specialty,” she adds, a small smile playing on her lips.

And it is. The meal is perfect. The apartment is perfect. She is perfect.

So why does he taste smoke?

But I have nightmares

It had been patatas bravas, back then. Y/N’s second attempt after declaring it her specialty. She’d burned the garlic in the sizzling oil within seconds.

“Tae!” she shouted, panic and frustration tangled in her voice.

“I told you the oil was too hot—”

“So why didn’t you stop me?!”

The fire alarm wailed, shrill and relentless, as they both scrambled to fan the smoke away with kitchen towels. Chaos spilled from every corner of the tiny kitchen, thick and acrid.

The food was ruined.

Y/N stared at the pan as if it had betrayed her, eyes wide and helpless.

When her lip quivered, Taehyung wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her steady.

“We’ll just go out,” he said, laughter still caught somewhere in his throat.

She sighed dramatically, dropping her head against his chest. “I hate having to go out in public when I’m already in my pajamas.”

Taehyung smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “How about I go out and get the food? You stay here — in pajamas, of course.”

Her smile was immediate and soft. “You’re the best.”

So they ended up eating street tteokbokki in their pajamas, the spicy sauce staining her fingers bright orange.

In that messy, imperfect moment, he’d never wanted to kiss her more.

it should've been you

Everyone called his girlfriend the It girl. Flawless and untouchable, she moved through the world like it was her runway—the perfect blend of charm, talent, and icy grace. At the awards show, all eyes were on her. The cameras loved her, the crowd adored her, and Taehyung stood beside her, the picture of success.

The day unfolded like a carefully scripted scene: glamorous photos, effortless smiles, a meal prepared with quiet precision in his sleek, spotless apartment. Everything appeared perfect.

But when the city lights dimmed and silence settled in, Taehyung lay awake, the quiet pressing against him like a shadow. Memories of Y/N drifted through his mind—someone who had been nothing more than a friend.

But if she was just a friend, why did he remember her as something more? Why did a familiar ache settle deep in his chest whenever he thought of her?

In the stillness, she was never far from his thoughts—an echo he couldn’t silence.

Back in their room, the velvet-draped walls felt a little softer somehow, the air less heavy. Sienna flopped onto the chaise with a huff, kicking off her heels.

When they reached their room, Sienna dropped her arm and let out a long sigh. “God, I need a night off,” she muttered as they stepped inside. “But also… was that you dancing with Hongjoong?”

Y/N flinched slightly, turning toward the mirror as she unhooked her earrings. “Was it?” she replied airily. “I mean… I also saw Jeongin again. He said he’d be back tomorrow. With Felix.”

Sienna sat up straight, “Seriously?”

Y/N nodded.

“Fucking finally,” Sienna groaned, collapsing back onto the chaise with a dramatic thud. “Maybe we’ll actually get out of this place.”

“Yeah,” Y/N echoed, her voice thin. “Maybe.”

But as Sienna curled up with her book, content in a flicker of optimism, Y/N sat quietly at the edge of her chaise, staring blankly at the mirrored wall. She should have felt relief. She should have felt hopeful. Instead, all she felt was the phantom burn of Hongjoong’s touch — the press of his hand against hers, the brush of his lips against her throat, the possessive grip on her waist like he’d been trying to tether her to him. His presence clung to her skin like smoke. 

Y/N lifted her hand, her fingers tracing the faint lines on her palm — the same ones he had held with such quiet intensity. She hated how much she already missed him. Swallowing hard, she tried to silence the ache building in her chest. Part of her didn’t want to be tethered to anyone here, didn’t want to belong to this world or anyone in it.

But the other part — the softer, weaker part — already ached for him.

Y/N dreaded the daylight hours as they passed — each one crawling by with aching slowness. She itched to go to Hongjoong’s office, to see him, to just feel him near again… but she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair, not to him, not to herself. To keep hovering close would only stretch out the inevitable, and she wasn’t sure she could take more of that kind of pain.

That night, she dressed in soft, dark fabrics — not quite mourning, but close. There was no thrill in getting ready, no anticipation thrumming in her chest like there used to be. Only a quiet ache.

Meanwhile, Sienna buzzed around the room like a champagne cork ready to pop. She slipped into a silky lavender slip dress, fluffing her hair in the mirror with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“You’re really not excited?” Sienna asked, glancing at Y/N’s muted look. “This could be it. Tonight might actually be the night we get out of here.”

Y/N forced a smile and tried to shrug it off. “I am… I just… don’t you think you might miss this place? I mean, at least a little?”

“Hell no!” Sienna scoffed. “Miss it? Girl, I’d only miss it if things actually worked out with Felix and we got to have hot, ghost-club makeout sessions forever. But let’s be real — I want to get the fuck out of here.”

Sienna paused, more gently this time. “I mean, aren’t you worried about Iris? Your family? Your job?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She looked away, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I keep wondering what’s going on out there, if time has stood still, or if the world has moved on without us.”

Sienna sat down beside her and nudged her with her shoulder. “Time hasn’t stood still. You know we’re probably like missing persons or something. And Iris will be waiting for us. But we gotta get out first! Please tell me you haven’t lost sight of that…” Now Sienna looked concerned.

Y/N nodded, offering another weak smile. “Don’t worry, I’m good. Let’s go get these guys.” 

The club throbbed with its usual decadent energy—dim lights, low music, and the scent of incense curling through the air like a secret. Y/N and Sienna stepped inside side by side, the bass-heavy beat of the music echoing like a heartbeat, welcoming them back into the dark, seductive world.

Felix and Jeongin were already at the bar, deep in conversation over a pair of drinks.

Jeongin looked up first, his face breaking into a wide grin as he spotted them and waved them over. Felix stood beside him, soft-spoken and radiant as ever, dressed in a crisp ivory shirt. His smile bloomed the moment his eyes met Sienna’s, easy and unmistakably fond.

“We were starting to think you ghosted us,” Jeongin teased, looking at them both. “Where were you coming from? Looked like… a hallway?”

Y/N and Sienna exchanged a glance, both answering at the same time.

“Bathroom,” Y/N said.

“Bathroom,” Sienna echoed, a little too brightly.

“Ahh,” Jeongin said with a raised eyebrow, clearly teasing. He nudged a barstool toward her. “Well, glad you made it back. Sit, before you vanish again.”

Felix, already half-turned toward Sienna, pulled out a stool for her as well. “You look beautiful,” he said in a soft and impossibly deep voice.

Sienna flushed, ducking her head in mock embarrassment. “Is that your line for all the girls you meet at nightclubs?”

He laughed gently, the sound low and genuine. “Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.”

Sienna leaned in closer, her elbow resting on the bar, posture open and effortlessly flirtatious. “Careful,” she murmured, “or I’ll be all you can think about.”

Together, their energy was warm and magnetic. They circled each other like gravity, and for the first time in days, Y/N saw Sienna look truly alive.

Jeongin raised an eyebrow at Y/N and offered a little toast with his glass. “Looks like we’re just background characters now.”

Y/N clinked her glass to his, smiling faintly. “I don’t mind it.”

Y/N turned toward Jeongin, offering a friendly smile as she settled beside him. He gestured to the bartender for a drink.

“They seem good together,” Jeongin said, nodding toward Sienna and Felix.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, watching her friend laugh at something Felix whispered. “I think she’s really excited.”

“What about you?” Jeongin asked gently, tilting his head. “Any chance I could make you excited?”

Before she could answer, a glimmer in the mirror behind the bar caught her eye — a flash of deep blue and black, of pale skin and sharp eyes. She froze. In the reflection, Hongjoong stood just beyond the edge of the crowd, watching her. His expression unreadable. His posture still. Like a ghost pressing up against glass.

Her breath hitched. She turned to look over her shoulder.

No one was there.

“Uh,” Jeongin’s voice grounded her again, soft and careful. “You okay?”

Y/N blinked hard, schooling her face. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just… thought I saw someone I knew. It’s nothing.”

Before Jeongin could ask again, the bartender returned, sliding a sleek glass toward him filled with something dark and jewel-toned — deep red, almost black, with flecks of gold swirling lazily at the bottom.

“Pomegranate liqueur,” the bartender said with a wink. “On the house. Special gift.”

Jeongin raised a brow. “Fancy.”

He reached for the glass.

Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, a jolt of panic tightening around her ribs. The amber-red liquid inside shimmered under the low bar lights, alluring and innocent to anyone who didn’t know better. But she knew.

A thought cut through her like a blade — sharp and brutal:

If he drinks that, he might never leave.

Her breath caught.

And if he stays… then I stay too.

The realization hit her like a weight to the chest — suffocating, shattering. It was the excuse she hadn’t dared let herself voice, the lie she’d buried beneath every rational thought. If he drank it, if he was bound to this place, it wouldn’t be her fault for staying. She could pretend it wasn’t her choice. Pretend it wasn’t about Hongjoong.

This place — its beauty, its darkness, the ache of desire and confusion — it had tangled around her like silk thread. And this drink, this one decision, was her chance to blame someone else for staying wrapped in it.

Her fingers twitched at her side. No. Not like this.

“Wait,” she said, her voice too loud, too fast.

Jeongin’s hand paused mid-air. He blinked at her, startled.

Y/N caught herself, tried to laugh it off.

“I’ve had it before,” she said, waving a hand vaguely. “It’s honestly disgusting. Not worth it.”

Jeongin looked at her for a moment, then slowly pulled his hand back.

“Thanks for the save, then,” he said, smiling a little. “Guess I’ll just stick to whiskey.”

But Y/N’s chest still felt tight, and the feeling didn’t go away the rest of the night.

Even as laughter bubbled at the bar and cocktails clinked against glass, something in her stayed guarded — braced. The four of them danced together under the velvet glow of the chandeliers, their shadows swirling like whispers on the marble floor. Sienna looked freer than she had in weeks, Felix's hand on her lower back as she twirled, breathless and giggling. And for that alone, Y/N knew she couldn’t let this moment go to waste. If freedom was finally in reach for Sienna, then she couldn’t be the reason it slipped away.

So she smiled when Jeongin offered her another drink. Let her fingers brush his when he leaned close to whisper something funny. She laughed, swaying near him on the dance floor, just flirty enough to keep him close. And truthfully, it wasn’t hard. He was kind. Gentle. And handsome in that boyish way that made her ache with guilt.

When the night waned and the energy dipped into something tired, quieter, Y/N found herself watching Sienna and Felix kiss in the hazy light near the back of the club. They eventually pulled apart, their foreheads still touching, and Y/N saw Felix whisper something that made Sienna smile in a rare, private way. They stood and came over to where Y/N and Jeongin was huddled together, talking. Felix exchanged a look with Jeongin, giving him a small nod.

“Uh, we’re gonna head home,” Felix said.

Jeongin gave him a small grin and then turned to Y/N, eyes shining. “And you?” he asked softly, slipping a hand around her waist. “What do you want to do?”

For a moment, Y/N froze — caught in the liminal space between choice and consequence. Then she looked at him. Really looked.

His dark sweater hugged his frame in a way that was both modest and flattering. His eyes were warm and full of a quiet hope. She could see the way he looked at her — not like prey, not like temptation. Just a girl he wanted to know.

“Would you…wanna come back to mine?” Jeongin said, his voice a little more hesitant.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely a breath. “I think I do.”

He smiled and took her hand. “Let’s go,” he said.

As they walked through the half-empty club, a door against one wall shimmered to life. Freedom was so close, Y/N could almost taste it — warm and fresh, like wind against her skin for the first time in too long.

In front of her, Felix and Sienna, passed through the door together, hands twined, stepping through the exit like it was nothing. Like walking through a curtain into the morning. No fanfare. No goodbye. It was oddly anti-climatic.

Over the pounding heartbeat in Y/N’s ears, she heard Jeongin ask, “Ready? Got everything?”

Y/N hesitated. Her lips parted. She glanced at the golden glow ahead — freedom so near it almost stung. And still… she turned. Just for a second. Just to check.

Just in case he was there.

But Hongjoong wasn’t behind the bar. He wasn’t watching from the stairs. He wasn’t waiting in the shadows like he always was.

Just emptiness.

And silence.

A tight ache bloomed in her chest. She didn’t know if it was grief or guilt or some unnamed tether still holding her in place.

But Jeongin’s hand was warm in hers, steady and kind. So she took a breath and stepped forward. Toward freedom. Toward sunlight. Toward something new.

But as she passed through the veil, a quiet voice in her heart whispered that she wasn’t leaving with all of herself.

A few weeks later, Y/N was settled back into her reality. However, the world outside felt brighter than she remembered — louder, faster, filled with colors that had once seemed dulled by her long nights in the club. She had reconnected with Iris, who had tearfully wrapped her in a crushing hug, and Sienna, who swore she would never go near any alcohol ever again. 

The friends’ bond remained intact—scarred, but somehow stronger for it. They met for coffee under the warmth of real sunlight, lingered in parks and cafés as if rediscovering the world. They laughed easily, sometimes too loudly, making up for all the silence they’d endured.

But Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Not from nightmares or curses, but memories.

Because no matter how real this new life felt… something inside her had been left behind.

One night, slipping quietly from their apartment with an excuse about needing air, she found herself standing before the elevator again. Waiting. Heart pounding.

The doors slid open, and she stepped inside, rising to the top floor.

Everything was the same—the scent, the dim glow, the faint hum behind the walls—but she wasn’t. Her heart beat in her chest like a drum in the quiet elevator as she ascended. When the doors slid open onto the top floor, the heavy groan of the door sounded like a welcome—like it had been waiting for her all along.

She moved forward, gliding past the booths where demons glanced up with casual curiosity, their eyes barely registering her presence. She was a ghost drifting through a world she once knew.

The familiar hallway stretched ahead.

The door.

His door.

Her hand trembled as she knocked.

It swung open and there he was.

Hongjoong.

He was just as beautiful as she remembered. Dressed in black, every inch a picture of elegance and quiet power, he stood with an effortless grace. His sharp jawline caught the dim light, casting subtle shadows that highlighted the smooth, pale skin of his face. His dark eyes, usually so composed and unreadable, flickered with a sudden, fleeting vulnerability—an unexpected crack that revealed a depth of longing beneath his striking exterior.

He stepped forward hand outstretched tentatively, as if uncertain if she was real or a dream.

His voice caught, raw and fragile. “…You came back.”

She met his gaze. “I couldn’t be without you,” she whispered, the words trembling but undeniable.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop—holding its breath, waiting. Then, his voice broke the silence, soft and heavy with something unspoken: “You shouldn’t be here.”

Her gaze never wavered, steady and defiant. “But I am.”

The air between them thickened, folding around them like a velvet shroud.

In the dim, fragile light, their two figures hovered between fading night and uncertain dawn—caught in a moment stretched impossibly long, like a whispered secret neither dared break.

Behind her, the heavy door groaned shut and the outside world blurred into nothingness.

Sienna was still her usual restless self, pacing the edges of the dance floor, her eyes always scanning, always hoping. "He’ll be back," she said of Felix, as if willing it to be true could summon him. But Y/N could see the way her voice cracked at the edges, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes anymore.

And Y/N… Y/N found herself pulled again and again to the window she’d discovered in one of the hallways — the one that offered a distorted, dreamy view of the outside world. The mortal world.

Freedom.

It had seemed so simple before. Something to fight for. To crave. To escape toward. But now… now her mind wandered to him. To the impossible idea of Hongjoong — not just as the enigmatic, untouchable club manager, but as something more. A future. A life. A warmth in a place where time didn’t pass and nothing aged and dreams came with a price.

She cursed herself for it. For imagining what it might be like to walk beside him in daylight — absurd as it was. For wondering if he would ever hold her again the way he had that night.

For thinking that maybe staying wouldn’t feel like being trapped, if it meant being his.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, trying to banish the thought.

But it stayed.

It was the third night in a row that Y/N had found herself standing near the window again, her fingers ghosting over the glass like it might give her answers.

That was when she saw him.

Jeongin, sharp as ever dressed in his familiar tailored black jeans and sweater, walked through the club’s velvet entrance, a familiar envelope tucked neatly under his arm. He moved with purpose but offered her a smile as soon as he spotted her. His smile was easy, boyish. Disarming as it was so unusual and out of place in this dark world she had become accustomed to.

She met him at the edge of the floor, and he held the envelope out like a peace offering.

“Another delivery,” he said, flashing his boyish grin. “You’re starting to feel like my only friend here.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’d say you’re a pretty reliable messenger. Maybe Chan should promote you.”

“He’d never,” Jeongin replied, eyes twinkling. “Too threatened.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but there was a pinch of something else in her chest — a fleeting thought of Hongjoong’s absence again.

“I have a little time to stay and hang out. Want a drink?” Jeongin asked.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

They sat at the bar, soft lights catching in the glasses as the bartender poured something amber and fragrant. It was quiet here, tucked away from the press of bodies and velvet shadows. 

Jeongin took a slow sip of his drink, then glanced sideways at her. “You know… I see you here a lot.”

Y/N tilted her glass, letting the amber liquid catch the low light. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Most people drift through. But you — you’re always around. Do you… work here?”

Her lips twitched. “Something like that.”

Jeongin raised a brow, curious. “Are you… like, one of Hongjoong’s people?” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “Or are you dating him?”

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh — more deflection than amusement. “No, nothing like that.”

Not exactly a lie. But not the truth either.

“I do… odd jobs for him,” she added with a nonchalant shrug. “Just small things here and there.”

It wasn’t totally wrong — but not totally right either. In truth, she was a butterfly pinned under glass, flitting from one task to the next, under the illusion of choice. Trapped.

Jeongin studied her face, something gentle behind his eyes. “You don’t seem like the type to just… hang around a place like this. Unless you had a reason.”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the rim of her glass.

“I have my reasons.”

This could be her opening.

She turned to him, letting just a flicker of vulnerability show. “You don’t seem like the type to just deliver envelopes and leave, either. What are you still doing here?”

Jeongin chuckled. “Touché. I guess I was hoping to run into you again.”

Her heart tugged, unexpectedly. But she tucked it away. He liked her. That was clear. And maybe… maybe he’d like her enough to invite her out.

Out. That word pulsed in her chest like a heartbeat.

“How do you like to spend your time?” she asked, casual but pointed. “Outside the club, outside of work, I mean?”

Jeongin blinked, caught slightly off guard. Then he smiled, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Ah… I guess I’m a pretty boring guy. I like coffee shops. Walking around the city. Late-night drives when it’s quiet.”

Y/N leaned her elbow against the bar, swirling her drink. “That doesn’t sound boring. That sounds… freeing.”

He looked at her then — really looked. “Isn’t that just normal?”

Y/N paused, her throat tight. “Maybe for some people. I feel like I haven’t done any of those things in forever.”

Jeongin studied her face, the corners of his mouth twitching down. “Okay, now I’m really curious. What do you do in your free time?”

Y/N smiled, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Hmm. That’s the thing about working nightlife,” she said, deflecting gently. “Free time tends to bleed into the early hours of the morning. I walk. I think. I watch people.”

Jeongin leaned in a little, eyes narrowing playfully. “So mysterious.”

“Maybe I like to keep a little mystery,” she teased, though her chest tightened. Mystery was all she had now. The truth would sound like madness.

Jeongin tilted his head, watching her carefully. “So, no hobbies? No… dreams you’re chasing?”

Y/N hesitated. That question struck somewhere too deep. “I used to have some,” she said softly. “But lately, it’s more about figuring out what I really want. What I’m allowed to want.”

Jeongin blinked at that, taken aback. “That sounds kind of heavy.”

“It is,” she admitted with a breath of laughter. “But you asked.”

He chuckled, and the mood lightened for a beat. “Alright, fair enough. But… can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t seem like someone who’s just passing time. You seem like someone waiting for something.”

Y/N froze slightly, the words hitting too close. She forced a smile. “Maybe I am.”

And in her mind, a plan was already forming. If she could keep him interested—gently, platonically—maybe there was a way to get him to lead her out. Maybe Hongjoong had been right when he said it would all come down to choice.

Even if it tore her in half.

Y/N glanced toward the dance floor, where Sienna stood leaning against the bar, sipping a glowing cocktail and scanning the room—still hoping, still waiting.

“My friend Sienna’s been asking about him,” Y/N said, turning back to Jeongin. “Felix, I mean.”

Jeongin blinked, caught off guard. “Felix?”

“Yeah. You know him, right?”

He nodded slowly, setting his glass down. “Yeah, I know Felix. We started around the same time. He’s a friend, but he’s in a different part of the… business. More behind-the-scenes. Different accounts.”

Y/N hummed, filing that away. “Well, my friend over there?” She nodded toward Sienna. “She really hit it off with him. If he’s free tomorrow night, maybe you two could drop by? You know… let fate do its thing.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “You’re matchmaking now?”

“I multitask,” she said with a sly grin. “Come on. It’s Saturday tomorrow—best night of the week.”

He hesitated, clearly weighing something in his mind. “Well… it is a Saturday.”

“Exactly. You’re coming?” Jeongin sucked through his teeth. “Ahh I guess I will.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Y/N held out her pinky. “Promise?”

He laughed under his breath but linked his pinky with hers, his touch warm and unguarded. “Alright. Pinky promise.”

Something about it made her chest ache a little—innocent and sincere in a place where sincerity felt like a foreign language.

They let go slowly, and Y/N reached for the envelope he’d been carrying. “I’ll make sure this gets to where it needs to go,” she said softly.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “See you then.”

And as he turned to leave, she clutched the envelope to her chest, trying to be excited for what she’d just set in motion—for Sienna, for Jeongin… and for herself.

Y/N made her way to Hongjoong’s office, envelope in hand. She knocked gently, hoping—stupidly, maybe—that he’d answer the door himself.

But when the door finally opened, it wasn’t him in the entrance.

One of the stone-faced bouncers cracked the door instead, wordless and towering. Y/N hesitated before offering the envelope, her eyes drifting past the man’s shoulder. She could see Hongjoong seated at his desk, his back turned, shoulders tense and unmoving in the dim light. The warm golden glow that usually haloed his office felt muted tonight, like the shadows had crept in too far.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her presence. Not even a glance.

Something in Y/N’s chest tightened. She knew she’d said just one night, but had it really meant nothing to him? In the moment, she’d felt like the exception — now she felt like a memory he’d already moved past. Swallowing hard, she nodded politely to the bouncer and turned to go without a word.

The club’s music felt louder when she stepped back into the hallway, thumping like a heartbeat she no longer moved in sync with. She wasn’t even angry anymore—just tired. Tired of this place, tired of waiting. Resignation settled over her like dust, quiet and inescapable.

By the time she reached her window—her quiet little sanctuary tucked away in the far corner of the hall—the party felt miles away. She sank into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest, and stared out at the streetlights beyond the glass. 

The city was dark, washed only in a cold blue light of the few neon lights that continued burning after 3 am. And Y/N was looking wistfully out the window of the window she had made her own the last few weeks…or had it been months? It was impossible to tell. 

“Waiting for someone?” A voice said from behind her. The voice once chilled her blood, but after being her seemingly constant companion lately, it only triggered disappointment.

“When did you stop being afraid of me, pet? Hm? When did you start thinking it was okay to ignore me?” 

Finally, Y/N lifted her head. “What do you want?”

“The sun will be up soon,” Hongjoong stretched out a hand, white like moonlight, “care to share one last dance before the day comes?”

She stared at his hand for a moment before her gaze rose to meet his. Her eyes were wide, glassy with unshed tears, and shimmering with a mix of longing and exhaustion.

“Why are you playing games with me again?” she asked, voice trembling. “You ignore me, shut me out… and then you’re upset when I don’t fall all over you the second you come back? What is going on here?” Her throat tightened, the words barely making it out. “I’m so tired, Hongjoong. I can’t keep doing this.”

His expression shifted — the confidence faltering, something raw flickering in his gaze. But his hand stayed outstretched between them, waiting.

“I don’t want to play games with you,” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

Y/N’s thoughts swirled in a dizzying storm — the pull of Hongjoong’s dark intensity battling against the quiet kindness and potential of freedom she glimpsed in Jeongin. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, torn between her two very different paths.

Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and took Hongjoong’s hand. His fingers curled around hers like a promise as he pulled her close.

They moved through the halls like a regal king and queen, every step graceful and deliberate. The crowd parted around them like a rising tide, yielding effortlessly as they made their way to the dance floor. There, their bodies swayed in a slow, sensual rhythm—not quite in sync with the music, as if they existed in a world all their own. The air between them pulsed with unspoken tension, leaving their skin tingling and breaths shallow.

Leaning into him, Y/N whispered against the shell of his ear, voice barely more than a breath, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Hongjoong stood in his office, his back to her, rage vibrating off him like heat from a flame. The lines of his shoulders were tense, trembling just enough to betray how barely contained it was. His hand swept across the surface of his desk, sending crystal tumblers and an ornate decanter flying. One of the mirrors on the far wall cracked, spiderwebbing with a splintering sound.

Y/N flinched.

But it wasn’t just rage that she saw in the set of his shoulders but sorrow.

His head hung for a moment, as if the weight of the outburst had drained something from him. One hand curled into a fist, pressed against the edge of the desk. His other hand trembled, then he crouched, slowly reaching for a broken bottle he didn’t pick up, only hovered over — like the gesture alone could undo the mess he’d made.

When he turned slightly, she caught the corner of his face in profile — not the cold, unreadable mask he wore in the club, but something rawer. Haunted. The dark slant of his eyes held no fury, only a deep, bitter ache.

She wanted to speak. To ask what hurt him like that. But her voice didn’t work. And even if it had…She wasn’t sure he would’ve wanted her to know. Her feelings for him were confusing enough, she didn’t want to feel sympathy for him.

Her feet moved instead, carrying her away from the room, out into the club. But it wasn’t the club she knew.

It was drenched in sunlight. Soft gold pooled across the velvet couches and spilled onto the glossy floors like honey. Every inch of the place was ghostly silent. Y/N wandered through the space slowly, arms brushing against warm beams of light, heart thrumming like a warning bell.

Then she saw it: a wide window she’d never noticed before.

Outside, the street was alive. Cars passed. A woman walked her dog. The sun glinted off store windows. It looked so normal — painfully, impossibly normal. Y/N pressed a hand to the glass. For a second, she imagined it cracking under her fingers, giving way to the freedom just beyond reach.

“Back to your room.”

The voice snapped like a whip.

She spun.

Hongjoong stood in the shadows, just past the reach of the sunlight. His eyes were hidden in the shadows, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low. “Not during daylight.”

“I was just—”

“Dream-walking,” he interrupted. “It’s dangerous. Haven’t you learned yet?” he snapped, “You are in danger when you forget what’s real.”

Y/N took a step back, suddenly dizzy. “Is this… is this a dream?”

“Does it matter?”

The sunlight flickered. A cold wind pulled at her back. She turned and ran.

She didn’t wake so much as land back in her body — heart racing, mouth dry. The room was real again. Dim and soft and faintly perfumed with rosewater.

Across the room, Sienna was pulling dresses from the armoire, holding them up one by one. The small table near the chaise lounge was now piled high with silky new garments and strange, luxurious accessories — feathered shawls, delicate gloves, tiny diamond-studded belts.

“I think I’m going with this one,” Sienna said, holding up a backless navy dress that shimmered like oil. “It’s giving angel, but make it dangerous.”

Y/N sat up slowly, blinking. The dream still lingered like fog behind her eyes.

“I can’t believe how much stuff keeps showing up,” Sienna added. “Not that I’m complaining. The demon sugar daddies are working overtime.”

Y/N tried to laugh — but all she could think about was Hongjoong and that cold rage that had reverberated off of him. How had she seen that? It couldn’t have been a dream—she didn’t sleep. A cold suspicion crept over her, wrapping around her spine like smoke: some connection was forming between her and Hongjoong, unspoken and inexplicable. It left goosebumps across her skin.

Y/N helped Sienna get ready, brushing out her friend’s hair while Sienna chattered on and on about Felix — how sweet he’d been, how she was sure he’d be there tonight. “I just have this feeling,” Sienna insisted, eyes bright with hope. “Like… tonight might be it. I just have to be ready in case!”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded, even though her chest felt tight.

Later, as the music pulsed and lights flickered across the velvet-draped club, Y/N sat paralyzed in their booth, legs crossed, drink untouched. Sienna perched beside her, eyes scanning the crowd with anxious excitement, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers.

That’s when Y/N spotted an unexpected figure. Jeongin stepped inside with a large envelope tucked under his arm, dressed in tailored black jeans and a sharp black sweater — casual, but polished. He caught her gaze almost immediately, his smile blooming wide and genuine as he lifted a hand in greeting. He waved at Sienna too, friendly as ever, before weaving his way over.

“Hey,” Jeongin greeted, breath a little short. “I can’t stay — just here to drop this off.”

“Wait,” Sienna asked, already leaning forward, “Is Felix coming?”

Jeongin’s expression dimmed slightly, apologetic. “No, not tonight. He had other work today.”

Sienna deflated, her excitement slipping from her face like a mask. Y/N’s heart ached for her.

“I can take that to Hongjoong,” Y/N offered, nodding toward the envelope.

“Thanks,” Jeongin said with a grateful smile. Then, he asked gently, “You okay? You seem kinda… not all here.”

“I’m fine.” It came out too fast.

Jeongin didn’t push. “Well… thanks,” he said, his tone still warm despite her coolness. “See you around, maybe?” There was hope in his question. Y/N knew she should be excited, more enthusiastic, but all she could manage was a tight smile and nod.

Y/N made her way upstairs, the music softening with each step she took away from the floor. She stood outside Hongjoong’s office door, hesitating. It looked the same — the iron handle, the carved wood — totally normal despite the eerie feeling she had. She knocked gently. No answer.

She waited.

Still nothing.

For a moment, she thought about going in. The envelope felt heavy in her hands, it must be important. But then she remembered his warning: “Never enter without permission.”

She turned to go just as the handle creaked behind her.

The door opened on its own.

The office was dimmer than usual — its typically seductive lighting replaced with a dusky blue glow. Some of the lamps were still shattered, glass still scattered across the floor near the bar cart. The mirror on the far wall bore the same spiderweb cracks she remembered from the dream she shouldn’t have been able to have.

A chill snaked up her spine. Was it okay to go in?

She stepped inside slowly, the envelope clutched tighter in her hand.

“You can put it on the desk,” came a voice from the shadows.

Y/N jumped. She hadn’t seen him.

Hongjoong sat in a velvet armchair tucked in the corner of the room, dressed in his usual dark splendor. His eyes were unreadable as he rolled a pair of glass balls slowly between his hands — a rhythmic, almost meditative motion. 

She hesitated, then crossed the room and set the envelope down with a gentle thud. “Didn’t realize you were here.”

“I wasn’t originally planning to be,” he said simply. “But I wanted to give you a chance tonight.”

“A chance?”

“To connect with Jeongin.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Why does that matter?”

He said nothing for a moment, eyes fixed on the glass spheres. “Because,” he said finally, “believe it or not, I don’t enjoy seeing you flirt with other men.”

His voice was quiet, but there was something tight behind it. Y/N’s heart fluttered.

“Why?” she pushed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hongjoong stilled. The spheres stopped moving. The silence stretched until, all at once, it snapped. He stood so fast the chair scraped backward. In three strides, he was in front of her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Because you are the thing I desire most, the thing I crave,” he growled, “and I can’t have you.”

Y/N froze, her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes blazed. “You don’t understand what it would mean. To fall for you would be to destroy the rest of what makes you human. And I—” He shook his head, jaw clenched. “I won’t damn you.”

“You think I haven’t already started to fall?” she said, softer than she meant.

His grip slackened. She reached up and placed a trembling hand against his cheek. Her fingers lingered on his sharp cheekbone as she searched his dark eyes — eyes that always seemed so impenetrable, but now… they softened, just a fraction. 

Something in him cracked — she could feel it, like a tremor beneath the surface. A flicker of vulnerability, of longing, glowing beneath his alabaster skin. His breath hitched ever so slightly, and in that pause, in the aching silence between them, Y/N saw not just the monster or the gatekeeper of this strange world, but the man beneath.

And then she kissed him.

The kiss was hesitant at first, searching. A question more than a declaration. His full lips were cool to the touch — not shocking, but refreshing, like the first breath of winter air after a stifling summer. 

Y/N leaned in, instinct guiding her more than thought. The world outside of that kiss — the club, the curse, the choices — all dimmed. For once, she wasn’t thinking about escape or consequences. Only him. Only this.

He responded slowly, with caution and restraint, until restraint gave way to want. The kiss deepened — raw and hungry, and the sadness between them turned into something electric.

Without warning, he lifted her onto the desk. Her hands hit glass and she gasped — a shard sliced through her palm, blood pooling instantly.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away and cradling her hand. “Come with me.”

He led her to a door she hadn’t noticed before, pressing a panel on the wall to open it. Behind it was a luxurious, dimly lit bedroom — all dark silks and shadows. There was a large bed in the center, draped in navy and gold.

“A bed?” she asked, blinking. “I didn’t think— I mean, no one ever…”

“It’s not for sleeping,” he said, glancing back at her. 

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

She didn't know if this was right, or safe, or smart.

But when Hongjoong moved to wrap her hand gently in a bandage, tenderly, she thought maybe—just maybe—this was real enough.

Hongjoong’s fingers brushed lightly over the thin cut on her palm, his touch careful, almost reverent. The dim light of the room cast soft shadows across his alabaster skin. He was so handsome, Y/N thought.

Y/N met his eyes, searching the depths there—the flicker of pain, the weight of loneliness—and felt her own heart tighten in response. This wasn’t just the cold, calculating manager anymore. This was someone fractured beneath the surface, someone who longed just as fiercely as she did.

Y/N met his eyes, searching the depths there—the flicker of pain, the weight of loneliness—and felt her own heart tighten in response. This wasn’t just the cold, calculating manager anymore. This was someone fractured beneath the surface, someone who longed just as fiercely as she did.

She hesitated, then whispered, “Maybe… maybe just this one night…”

Hongjoong didn’t say a word. The silence between them pulsed with unspoken permission, an invitation that sent a thrill straight through her.

Y/N leaned in, her lips once again brushing softly against his. His breath hitched at the contact, the tension in his body unraveling as he caught her mouth with his slow and deliberate. His restraint wavered, fingers tangling gently in her hair, pulling her closer.

Their kisses deepened, heavy with longing and a hunger that had been building too long to deny. Y/N’s hands explored the contours of his cool skin, tracing the planes of his jaw, the nape of his neck, each part of him she had admired from afar.

With a groan, Hongjoong momentarily broke away, his hand slipping under her dress as he guided her backward toward the bed. The soft fabric slid over her skin, revealing the heat beneath, and Y/N’s breath hitched when he touched her. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of ice that burned like fire.

They moved together with slow, deliberate passion — every touch, every glance, every sigh a confession in the dim, amber-lit room. Hongjoong’s usual control gave way, replaced by raw desire, and Y/N responded with equal fervor, her body arching toward his.

His mouth moved to her neck, then her collarbone, dragging heat wherever he touched. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he growled low against her skin. “I tried to keep away. I tried to be something more than this—” His breath shuddered. “But I’m weak for you. Pathetic for you.”

Y/N gasped, threading her fingers into his hair, tugging him back up to meet her lips. He kissed her like he needed her to survive, hands gripping her like she was the only thing tethering him to what was left of his self-control.

“I’ve lived centuries without needing anyone,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with desire and something close to despair. “And now, I’d burn it all down just to feel you like this.”

Y/N’s heart pounded at his words, her body aching for more than just the physical. She wanted him — all of him — even the broken parts he tried to hide.

And under the hush of velvet and dim candlelight, they gave in. Not to lust, not just to pleasure — but to the pull of something dangerous, magnetic, and maybe… just maybe, something real.

It was so different from what she had felt with San and Wooyoung — that had been wild and consuming, all fire and instinct, like hunger clawing from the inside out. Their touch had made her feel wanted, devoured — like something precious, yes, but fleeting. Something to be burned through.

But with Hongjoong… it was quieter. He didn’t just touch her body — he unraveled her, piece by piece, until she was bare in ways that had nothing to do with skin. It was like unlocking something hidden deep inside, a door she hadn’t known existed — one that led to the darker, lonelier corners of her soul. And instead of being afraid of what she found there, she felt only relief.

Relief that someone saw it — the whole of her — and didn’t flinch.

One night, as they were getting ready to head back into the club, they found something new. A silver bowl, overflowing with huge, glistening strawberries, sat on their table like a decadent offering. A small note was tucked beside it, written in blue ink.

“For luck. — HJ”

“He’s sick,” Sienna muttered, tossing the card aside with a scowl.

Y/N picked it up. On the back, in darker ink, a second message curled across the paper:

Come to my office before the club opens. I have a favor to ask.

Her heart skipped.

She didn’t tell Sienna what the note said. She only slipped out a little earlier than usual and wound her way back to Hongjoong’s office.

When she arrived, he was waiting. Impeccable as always. He looked up at her with a slow, unreadable smile.

“I have an important guest tonight,” Hongjoong said smoothly, folding his hands atop his desk. “And I’d like you to be my date.”

Y/N blinked. “Why me?”

“Because,” he said, standing, “you’re who I want.”

His words made that familiar heat rise silently in her chest.

“And Sienna?” she asked carefully.

“I’ll keep her busy,” Hongjoong said without missing a beat. “She won’t be alone.”

Apprehension twisted low in Y/N’s stomach. She suspected what this meant — that Hongjoong’s “guest” might be mortal. That this could be a chance for freedom. Another exit. Another goodbye.

She should want that. She did. Didn’t she?

But the thought of Sienna leaving her behind — of becoming the second girl to disappear from their trio — made her stomach churn.

They were supposed to get out together.

Still, she nodded slowly. Whatever game Hongjoong was playing, she was already in it. She just had to keep pushing forward.

“Come,” Hongjoong said, stretching out a hand to her.

Y/N hesitated only for a breath before placing her fingers in his. His touch was cold, as always, but strangely grounding. Like ice steadying a fever.

He led her through a narrow, velvet-lined corridor and out onto an elevated platform overlooking the heart of the club. The noise dimmed slightly as they stepped into a semi-private booth curtained with sheer black silk, lit with soft gold light. It was the kind of space reserved for the elite of the elite — and now, apparently, for her.

Two crystal glasses awaited them, already filled with something dark and expensive-looking. Hongjoong gestured for her to sit, then took the spot beside her, legs crossed, his posture relaxed but always poised. He studied her over the rim of his glass as he sipped.

“You look good sitting there,” he said with a slight smirk.

Y/N gave a small smile and raised her glass in a mock toast. “So do you. But I’m guessing you always look like this.”

He chuckled softly. “Vanity is a requirement in my line of work.”

She looked around the space, searching for what to say, then found her courage. “Hongjoong… can I ask you something?”

He tilted his head, curious.

“How did you become… this? The manager here, I mean.”

The question seemed to land harder than she expected. Hongjoong looked away, his eyes shadowed, the smirk slipping from his mouth. For a moment, the club’s lights danced across his face like firelight.

“I made a choice,” he said at last, voice low. “A long time ago. One I can’t take back. I used to think I was the one being clever, getting ahead. But now…” He swirled his drink, staring into it like it might hold the rest of the story. “Let’s just say I found out too late who was really in control. And by then, it was too late.”

Bitterness lingered in the air between them, like smoke from an old fire. Y/N didn’t push him further. She didn’t need to. His silence said more than words. But she couldn’t help but wonder who he had been before all of this.

Just then, one of the sleek, suited security guards appeared at the edge of the booth. “Sir,” he said, bowing slightly. “Your guest has arrived.”

Hongjoong straightened, all emotion wiped clean from his face. “Send them in.”

A moment later, two figures approached. The first was older — tall, broad-shouldered, confident in a way that didn’t need to announce itself. His full features were serious, but not unkind. Beside him walked someone younger — sharp-faced, with cat-like eyes and a nervous smile that made Y/N’s heart twist a little.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong said smoothly, “this is Bang Chan, one of our… esteemed investors. And this is Jeongin, his protégé.”

Chan gave her a nod hello. The group made polite small talk, but the conversation quickly turned to business. Chan’s tone was low and focused as he spoke to Hongjoong about ownership stakes, renovations, and clientele expectations. Y/N only half-listened, her attention pulled to Jeongin.

He sat stiffly at the edge of the booth, clearly out of his element. She smiled at him, and when she passed him a drink, their fingers brushed — and her breath caught.

Warm.

Jeongin was warm.

Real.

He blinked at her in surprise, then smiled shyly and took a sip.

“You don’t seem like you come here often,” she said, leaning in slightly.

He laughed, cheeks pinking. “First time. Chan said it’d be good experience, but I think I’m a little in over my head.”

“You’ll be fine,” Y/N said, her voice lower now, flirtatious. “Just stay close to me.”

Jeongin blinked again — flustered but clearly flattered — and Y/N felt a ripple of satisfaction. He really was cute.

Then she felt it — a prickle down her spine.

She glanced to the side.

Hongjoong was watching her.

Not speaking. Not blinking. Just watching, a darkness simmering beneath his composed exterior. His eyes were ice and iron — dangerous and unreadable.

Y/N straightened slightly, her hand retracting from where it had lingered too long near Jeongin’s.

“Will you excuse me and Y/N?” Hongjoong said abruptly, his voice calm but edged with something sharp.

Chan raised an eyebrow, surprised, but nodded politely. Jeongin looked between them, clearly confused.

“There’s something we need to attend to,” Hongjoong added without offering further explanation.

He stood, straightening his jacket with an air of finality before reaching down and wrapping his fingers firmly around Y/N’s wrist. She blinked, startled by the sudden change in his mood, but allowed herself to be pulled up from the booth.

Without another word, he led her away from the VIP area and into the shadows of the corridor beyond — a space between mirrors and velvet drapes, quiet besides the pulsing low music from the other room. Then, without warning, he spun her, pressing her back gently but firmly against the wall. The silk of her dress brushed the cool surface as his body caged hers in.

His eyes were furious. Not wild — Hongjoong was never out of control — but burning with restrained wrath. Controlled fire. Contained danger.

“You’re supposed to be my date,” he said, voice low and tight.

Y/N stared up at him, heart racing. “I—he’s human, I was just—”

“I let you play out your little fantasies with San and Wooyoung,” he hissed, interrupting. “Let you explore your temptations, chase the heat you crave. But tonight…” His hand slid up, fingers brushing her jaw, just millimeters from her throat. “Tonight, you’re meant to be mine.”

Her breath caught. The pressure of his body, the commanding tone of his voice — it sent a shiver down her spine that wasn’t fear. Not entirely.

“You made a deal with me, remember?” he murmured, stepping closer. His mouth was barely inches from hers now. “And I always collect.”

The words came before Y/N could stop them.

“Then collect,” she breathed. She was feeling reckless. There was no thought behind her words, just pure desire.

Her mouth inched toward his, yearning for the connection, for a release from the tension building inside of her. His lips hovered near, his nose brushing hers, so close she could almost…

But then he pulled back, jaw tight.

“Not tonight,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Not like this.”

He stepped away, raking a hand through his hair as if physically shaking off the moment. “But behave, behave for me…just tonight.” he added, dark eyes locking with hers in a silent warning.

The tension simmered between them as they returned to the VIP booth, where Chan and Jeongin looked up mid-conversation, surprised by their sudden reappearance. When Hongjoong declined to dance — cool and unreadable once more — Y/N didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll keep our guests entertained,” she said with a playful smile, earning a reluctant nod from him.

The music thrummed as Y/N led Chan and Jeongin onto the dance floor. Chan was confident, fluid in his movements, but Jeongin kept blushing under her gaze — his boyish charm clashing adorably with the seductive atmosphere. She moved between them like smoke, teasing without touching, letting her fingertips skim the air just shy of their skin. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it to work off some of her pent up energy or to drive Hongjoong mad — maybe both.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Sienna. Relief washed over her, followed quickly by curiosity — she wasn’t alone. She was deep in conversation with a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a dream: soft blond hair, golden skin, and the most angelic smile Y/N had ever seen.

“Felix,” Chan called over to him. 

Y/N’s focus flicked back to Hongjoong, who was still seated at the edge of the booth, his drink untouched, watching her with unreadable intensity.

Screw him. She thought.

She turned up the heat.

She twirled, let her hips sway a little more, smiled at Jeongin until his ears turned red — but never touched him. Not fully. She could feel Hongjoong’s gaze like a chain, taut and coiled, and she knew exactly how far she could push it.

But god, it was fun dancing along the edge.

When Y/N got back to their room, she slammed the door shut behind her, kicked off her heels, and buried her face into the nearest pillow.

And screamed.

It was muffled but guttural — a sound pulled from somewhere deep inside her chest. She didn’t even know exactly what it was she was screaming about. The prison of this place? The helplessness? Or the magnetic pull she felt toward the man who ran it — the man who knew just how to unravel her with a single look?

Her fists curled into the plush velvet pillow cover.

Damn Hongjoong. Damn the way his voice lingered in her head. Damn the way her body responded to his nearness, even when her mind screamed for distance.

The door creaked open.

Sienna slipped inside, practically glowing. “Okay, you’re not going to believe this,” she said breathlessly, leaning back against the closed door. “Y/N — he’s actually human.”

Y/N lifted her head, confused. “What? Who?”

“Felix,” Sienna said, eyes wide and sparkling. “The guy I was with tonight? He’s human. He came with those investor guys you were sitting with. I thought he was just another one of… you know, them. He’s so beautiful! But he’s not.”

She crossed the room in a few excited steps, flopping into the plush armchair beside Y/N. “We bumped into each other — literally — and we just started talking. He skipped the whole meeting to stay with me. Can you believe?”

Y/N blinked, trying to mentally shift gears from Hongjoong’s burning touch to Sienna’s joy. “He… skipped the meeting?”

“Yes! And he said he’s coming back. I don’t know when exactly, but he promised he would. And he wants me to meet him here! Of course he doesn’t know I’m literally trapped here and can literally meet him whenever…but I just—” She bit her lip, suddenly shy, “Y/N, I think he’s the one.”

Y/N sat up slowly. “The one who’ll set you free?”

Sienna nodded, hopeful and scared and glowing all at once. “I really do. I think it’s him.”

And if she was honest — truly, painfully honest — her deepest desire wasn’t escape.

It was to feel that again.

To be wanted like that again.

To lose herself in those hands, those mouths, that hunger that had nearly unraveled her.

Hongjoong said nothing, but his smile deepened, slow and knowing.

“You see?” he murmured. “Even when you lie to me… your soul speaks the truth.”

"So I’ll tell you what," Hongjoong said, his voice low and almost indulgent, like he was humoring her. "I’ll fulfill my side of the favor. But when the time comes… it’ll be up to you to decide if you really want what I offer you."

Y/N stared at him, caught between confusion and dread. “What does that mean?”

He only smiled — that same unreadable, infuriatingly calm smile. "Now," he went on, turning his gaze back to his desk, "get out of my office."

She stood to leave. "And Y/N…" His voice sharpened, just a little. “Don’t ever come in here without permission again.”

Dismissed. Just like that.

And yet as she stepped out, her pulse still thrummed. 

That night, something had changed.

Back in their shared room, the girls gasped as the armoire creaked open on its own, revealing a new set of clothes — shimmering dresses in varying shades of midnight and sapphire. The fabric looked like it had been spun from shadows and moonlight, daring and decadent without being crude. Each dress was cut differently: Iris's was soft and sheer, Sienna’s sleek and dramatic, and Y/N’s… Y/N’s was silk with a deep neckline and a slit that ran dangerously high up one leg.

She didn’t have to guess where they came from.

She sent a silent thank you to Hongjoong, smoothing the dress down her sides. If this was his repayment for the favor, it would do.

Y/N spotted him immediately when they stepped into the club.

Aaron.

Sober. Standing near the bar, scanning the crowd with that unmistakable nervous energy of a man looking for someone. When he caught sight of her, he lit up and made a beeline toward her.

“Y/N,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I was hoping I’d see you again. Is Iris here? I… I really want to see her. A lot has happened since I saw you guys the other night – not all good – well, none of it good, but I know if I could just see her–”

Y/N blinked, heart stuttering. This could be it. Iris’s chance. If he could lead her out…

But then the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. A shadow passed over them. Y/N turned, and the air left her lungs.

San and Wooyoung were walking straight toward her. Not separately but together, side by side. Their silhouettes cut clean and confident through the blur of bodies and color, dressed in matching black. San’s sharp gaze found hers first, eyes burning like embers. Wooyoung wasn’t far behind, lips already curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

And unfortunately, he probably did.

“Uh…” Aaron looked between them and Y/N, clearly unnerved, as the men approached. “Friends of yours?”

Neither man looked at Aaron. They didn’t even acknowledge his existence.

Wooyoung stepped close, his fingers ghosting the edge of her bare arm. “You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, eyes dragging over her satin-clad figure like a slow caress.

San’s voice followed, low and smooth. “We were hoping you’d be here.”

Y/N swallowed, heat sparking in her blood. Her thoughts scattered.

She could feel their energy already coiling around her — like heat from both sides, promising a night with no rules and no return. Her mind betrayed her, running wild with thoughts she shouldn’t entertain: San behind her, whispering dark praises in her ear… Wooyoung at her neck, his hands everywhere at once… limbs tangled in silk sheets, mouths searching, teeth grazing —

She shivered. A flush crept up her throat and bloomed across her cheeks.

Aaron was still talking. “So… you guys go way back or…?”

Y/N barely heard him.

Her pulse was too loud.

Beside her: the man who could give them a chance at freedom. In front of her: two men who could ruin her, in the most delicious way possible.

And suddenly, for the first time since she had crossed into this world, her dress felt a little too tight. And the air? A little too hot.

She had to choose.

“I told you it would be up to you to choose.”

The voice drifted through the shadows like a cold breeze. Y/N startled, glancing up from where she sat slumped against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Her cheeks were wet, her breath uneven, and she hadn’t heard him approach.

Hongjoong stood over her, dark and poised, the edges of his coat brushing the floor like smoke. His expression was unreadable — except for the hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

He crouched in front of her, lowering himself to eye level with a patient sort of grace. “And how do you feel about your decision?” he asked softly, almost kindly — but there was a gleam in his eye that said he already knew.

“I don’t even know how to feel,” Y/N admitted, her voice hoarse.

“Tsk, tsk.” His fingers were unexpectedly gentle as he reached out and wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Why the long face? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Y/N’s lip trembled. She nodded, but another wave of tears spilled down.

“I just… I didn’t expect to miss her this much.”

Iris was gone.

Y/N had made the call. She had pulled Aaron aside and nudged him back toward Iris, whispering encouragements, pushing fate in the right direction, ignoring Wooyoung and San for the sake of her friend. And when the sun had begun to rise, she’d watched as he’d taken Iris by the hand and walked her through the shimmering exit, showering her with compliments and awe like she was some celestial being.

It had been the right move. The smart one. The one she and Sienna had hoped for.

But now, it was just the two of them. Y/N blinked through the tears. “It’s like the second she walked out that door… everything here felt darker. Colder.”

Hongjoong tilted his head, studying her. “Funny how freedom looks more like a loss from the wrong side of the line, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. The knot in her throat was too tight.

Hongjoong watched her for a long, quiet moment. Then, with a subtle tilt of his head, he said, “Would you like to see what you missed out on?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer again, his voice lower now, silkier. “The other choice you could’ve made. The one that led to San. Wooyoung. The pleasure. The chaos. I can show you exactly what you turned your back on.”

Her breath caught. “I… I don’t know if I want that.”

He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you.”

And then — without another word — images slammed into her mind like waves.

Hands. Heat. San’s mouth brushing her collarbone, the sound of Wooyoung’s laugh in her ear. San’s touch was firm, reverent, giving. His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire, dragged over every inch of her. He caressed her body as Wooyoung kissed down the length of her throat, his full lips soft and slow. They laid her out on a velvet chaise lounge bathed in red light, as if the whole room was blushing at their licentious actions. She felt San’s fingers tangle in her hair, Wooyoung’s mouth on her stomach, trailing lower, both of them murmuring things she couldn’t make sense of. Their heat was overwhelming, their bodies a tangle of pleasure and possession. And in that memory — real or imagined — Y/N had never felt more wanted in her life.

She gasped, flinching like she’d been burned, her eyes wide with the aftermath of phantom sensation.

When her vision cleared, Hongjoong was still standing there, perfectly composed, his expression unreadable.

“That,” he said softly, “is what you walked away from.”

Y/N pressed her hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. In her aroused state, she couldn’t keep her eyes off his mouth. Had his lips always been so full and soft looking? Heat curled low in her belly.

“You’re cruel,” she whispered.

“I’m honest,” he replied. “And you needed a reminder of what this place truly is. Pleasure, pain… freedom, consequence. None of it comes without cost.”

He turned from her then, the moment already dissolving like smoke behind him.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he said over his shoulder. “Maybe next time… you’ll choose differently.”

Sienna glanced at her. “Want company?”

“Nah, I’ll be right back. I promise.”

But Y/N wasn’t wandering aimlessly. She scanned the crowd until she spotted him — the man Hongjoong had pointed out earlier. A little older, disheveled in a way that felt genuine, unlike the polished perfection of most of the club’s patrons. His shirt was wrinkled, his laughter a little too loud. Sloppy. Human.

She made a show of “noticing” him, then returned to the booth and leaned in.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Over by the bar. That guy in the gray jacket.”

Sienna squinted. “Human?”

“He’s gotta be,” Y/N whispered. “Look at him. Totally human. Slouchy. Smells like money, though.”

Iris glanced between them, catching on late. “We’re talking about someone to help us get out, right?”

Y/N nodded, then lowered her voice further, pulling Sienna to the side as Iris started reapplying lip gloss. “Hey… I think Iris should get out first.”

Sienna’s face softened slightly, serious beneath the club lights. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking the same thing. Especially with Yeosang lurking…it’s too dangerous.”

They exchanged a quick, silent agreement before regrouping.

Together, the three girls made their way toward the man’s table. Y/N led the charge, flashing a wide smile. “You look like you’re having a good time,” she said, sliding in beside him.

The man grinned. “I am now.”

Y/N giggled, leaning a little closer, her eyes playful. “Well, lucky you. We’re fun when we want to be.”

Sienna slid into the seat on his other side with a practiced smile. “Keyword when. You caught us on a good night.”

Iris perched on the edge of the booth, swirling the last of her drink. “Better make the most of it before we disappear into the mist or whatever.”

The man laughed, clearly amused, somewhat confused—and maybe a little overwhelmed by the sudden attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever been triple-teamed like this in my life. Not that I’m complaining.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Y/N said with a grin. “You have excellent taste in tables.”

“Name’s Aaron, by the way,” he said, lifting his glass. “Here’s to good timing.”

“Sienna,” Sienna replied. “This is Y/N, and that’s Iris.”

Y/N gave him a little finger wave. “So what brings you here, Aaron? Celebration? Divorce? Quarter-life crisis?”

“Business trip,” he said, chuckling. “My coworkers ditched me after dinner, so I figured, why not check out the famous club everyone talks about?”

“Dangerous choice,” Iris teased, sipping her drink. “You never know who you’ll run into.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Aaron said. His eyes darted from one girl to the next, practically glowing with delight. “So, uh… what are you girls drinking? Can I refresh your drinks?”

Y/N tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Oh, well, I only drink top shelf.”

Sienna turned sharply to glance at her, one eyebrow raised. But Y/N kept her gaze fixed on Aaron, unbothered and laser-focused.

Aaron’s chest puffed slightly, emboldened by the attention of three beautiful women. “Top shelf it is. Whatever you want, gorgeous.”

“Good answer,” Sienna said smoothly, leaning back in the booth.

“Champagne too?” Y/N added, biting her lip in faux hesitation. “Just for fun.”

Aaron was already waving down a server. “Let’s go all out. Bottles, shots, whatever you want. I’m feeling generous.”

Iris widened her eyes slightly but played along with a soft laugh. “He’s serious. I like it.”

The server nodded and disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, a tray of glittering drinks and chilled bottles began arriving one after another — top-shelf liquor, bubbling champagne, even fruit garnishes and gold-dusted rims. Aaron looked like a kid on Christmas morning, waving the server off with a pleased grin as he loosened his collar and gestured broadly to nearby guests.

“Join us!” he called, beckoning people over like a king tossing coins to a crowd. “Plenty to go around!”

The booth transformed quickly into a full-on VIP party — music thumping, laughter rising, glasses clinking. The velvet rope around their table didn’t even seem necessary anymore, the energy itself setting them apart.

Sienna leaned in toward Y/N, voice low and sly. “Operation get-Iris-out is a go.”

Y/N clinked her glass lightly against hers. “We’re just getting started.”

Sienna, eyes gleaming with determination, reached for the tray of freshly lined-up shots. “Okay!” she announced brightly, grabbing two and nudging Iris and Aaron. “You two first. Come on, make it cute.”

Aaron, already flushed from the attention (and possibly the champagne), chuckled. “Oh, are we doing this?”

“Obviously,” Sienna teased. “Feed each other like it’s a wedding toast! Go on.”

Iris laughed, cheeks pink, but played along, holding the glass up to Aaron’s lips. He opened his mouth dramatically and tipped it back, spilling a little as he swallowed. Then he took one in return and offered it to Iris. She leaned in, lips brushing the rim of the glass, eyes locked with his.

The group around them hooted and clapped. “Okay, your turn!” someone shouted.

“Alright, alright!” Y/N said with mock exasperation. She turned, spotting two guys hovering nearby who’d clearly been eyeing their booth. She crooked her finger. “You two — you drinking or what?”

They lit up and quickly joined the circle.

“Shots with strangers,” Y/N said brightly, handing them each a glass. “That’s the rule here.”

More shots were poured. Sienna grabbed another pair and made Iris and Aaron go again, “King and Queen of the party,” she said.

Meanwhile, Y/N expertly kept the bill rising — laughing, leaning in close to Aaron now and then with a flirtatious comment that made him call for more champagne, more shots, more mixers. Every time the server brought another tray, she made sure it was premium.

Sienna raised an eyebrow once when Y/N asked for a bottle of something even she couldn’t pronounce, but Y/N just shrugged. “What? We’re having fun.”

Aaron beamed, arms spread like a victorious gambler. “Best night ever!”

And across the room, partially hidden by shadows and flickering lights, Hongjoong watched — calm and calculating. He caught Y/N’s eye and offered Y/N the faintest nod of approval.

By the end of the night, Aaron was slumped over in the booth, arms sprawled, a half-finished drink still clutched in one hand.

“Fuck,” Sienna muttered, eyeing him. “There’s no way he’s walking out of here with any of us. He’s not walking out at all.”

“Yeahhh…” Y/N winced. “We might’ve taken it a little too far.”

Before they could decide what to do, a familiar voice cut through the fading music.

“Ladies,” Hongjoong said smoothly, appearing out of the shadows like a secret, “it’s nearly daylight. I must ask you to return to your room.”

His gaze lingered on Y/N. As she passed him, his hand brushed lightly against hers — barely a touch, but it sent a shiver straight down her spine. Her heart flipped before she could stop it.

Back in their room, Iris collapsed on the chaise lounge, muttering something incoherent. Sienna pulled her heels off and tossed them aside, then turned to Y/N with a half-smirk.

“So… top shelf only, huh?” she teased. “Not that I’m complaining, but since when are you so bougie?”

Y/N just shrugged, feigning innocence. “Felt like we deserved a little luxury.”

Sienna didn’t press.

The nights blurred together after that — one long stretch of velvet, music, smoke, and disappointment. Mortals were rare. The ones that wandered in either didn’t stay long enough, or were too broke, too suspicious, or too drunk to lead them out. 

And eventually, Y/N snapped.

She stormed through the hallway to Hongjoong’s office, her heels clicking sharply against the black-and-white tile. She didn’t knock. She burst in.

“You said,” she began, voice trembling with frustration, “that if I helped you, you’d help me.”

Hongjoong didn’t look up right away. He was seated behind his desk, calmly sorting a deck of tarot cards. When he finally glanced at her, his expression was unreadable.

“I held up my end of the deal,” she pressed. “Aaron spent a fortune. I practically emptied his soul for you. So where’s my help?”

Hongjoong set the deck down, fingers steepling. A slow, curious smile pulled at his lips.

Y/N blinked. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. “What... what did I do?”

He didn’t answer right away. He rose slowly, crossing to the table with precise, elegant steps. “I wasn’t surprised about Iris,” he said, pouring himself a drink. “She gave in the moment Yeosang looked at her the right way. But you…” He turned, his eyes cold fire. “You were supposed to be the clever one.”

Y/N sat frozen, guilt and confusion swirling in her chest. The memory of Wooyoung’s touch, San’s phantom hands, the warmth of the red-lit room — it had been intoxicating, overwhelming.

“And Sienna?” she asked quietly.

Hongjoong tilted his head, watching her closely. “Still resolute,” he said. “For now.”

The mention of her friends' names was like a splash of ice water to the face. It sobered her. The haze lifted. Shame settled into Y/N’s bones like a second skin.

Despair crept into her throat. “I messed up.”

“Oh, you did,” Hongjoong agreed, almost lightly. “And it was fun to watch.” He returned to his seat, one leg crossed neatly over the other. “But fortunately for you, for whatever reason, I find I have a soft spot for you.”

Y/N looked up, startled. “A soft spot?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Don’t read into it. But yes. For whatever reason, I’m inclined to give you another path.”

“What kind of path?”

“A deal,” he said simply. “You do something for me, and I’ll help you get closer to the door.”

Her stomach twisted. “And what is it you want?”

Hongjoong’s smile sharpened — equal parts threat and promise.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Hongjoong walked her to the door of his office, his steps unhurried, expression unreadable. He checked his stone encrusted watch.

“Daylight’s coming,” he said softly, almost wistfully. Then, just as she reached for the handle, his voice dropped lower.

 “Oh, and Y/N — don’t mention our little bargain to your friends.”

When Y/N returned to the room she shared with Iris and Sienna, her mind was a storm of half-formed thoughts. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, chest rising and falling too quickly.

How had she fallen so fast for Wooyoung’s charm? That kiss had been reckless—drunk on heat and tension and the memory of San’s hands still ghosting along her hips. Worse, she hated to admit she still craved it. Craved them.

Her fingers brushed along the base of her throat, where Wooyoung’s hand had grazed her skin. But before the warmth of the memory could swallow her, Hongjoong’s face flickered in her mind—sharp eyes, sharper words. Had he looked… sad when she left him?

“God, finally,” Sienna’s voice cut through the haze.

Y/N blinked out of her thoughts and saw Iris head peaking out from the top of the claw-foot bathtub.

“She needed a cold bath to wake her up from her horny little delusion,” Sienna announced with a dramatic hand wave.

Iris didn’t even try to argue. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sienna flopped dramatically onto one of the velvet lounge chairs. “My night was just as unproductive. I thought I met a mortal guy—he was awkward, stammered over every sentence. I was convinced. But nope. Just an awkward demon. Can you believe? An awkward demon?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. “How’d you get away?”

“I told him I had to go to bed,” Sienna shrugged. “And he… gave me pajamas.” She gestured to the soft cotton set like evidence in a crime. “What good are pajamas when we don’t even need to sleep?”

Still, she had pulled on the pants, rolling the waistband twice to make them fit. Her black dress had been bunched up into a makeshift tube top. She tossed the matching button-up top to Y/N.

“Here. You look like you’re about to combust.”

Y/N peeled off her dress with relief, the fabric clinging like it had grown a mind of its own. She slipped into the loose pajama shirt, the hem skimming her thighs, her skin finally breathing again.

“I’ll take the robe, thanks,” Iris mumbled from the tub, barely lifting a hand.

Sienna pointed a finger at both of them. “We need to tighten up, ladies. No more falling for mysterious men. I’m serious.”

Y/N gave a small nod, grateful for the levity—grateful for the sense of grounding that came with Sienna’s blunt words.

But when the lights dimmed and the three girls settled into the silken quiet of their strange, sleepless room, Y/N couldn’t stop the thoughts circling her mind.

Not of escape.

Not of freedom.

But of Wooyoung’s smirk, San’s hands, and the unreadable ache in Hongjoong’s eyes.

The next night, the girls stuck together.

They had arrived earlier than most, slipping past the velvet rope into the club’s pulsing heart before the crowd had thickened. They’d claimed a plush booth tucked against the far wall, the velvet seats curved like an embrace. From there, they could see everything: the gleaming bar, the mirrored columns, the dance floor flickering with bodies and light.

Beautiful people passed by in a blur — every jaw sharp, every body sculpted, every movement too smooth to be natural.

Y/N scanned the crowd with calculated intent.

They were looking for someone with flaws. Someone real. Maybe a little too drunk. A little too loud. Someone whose blood still pulsed beneath the surface.

“See anything?” Sienna asked, sipping a water she’d demanded forcefully despite a raised eyebrow from the bartender.

Y/N shook her head. “Just perfection.” She didn’t mean it as a compliment.

But secretly, her eyes kept drifting to the corners of the room for San or Wooyoung.

She hated how much she desired them. But the memories of the touch had haunted her through the entire day and into that night.

Then, like summoned from the shadow itself, Hongjoong appeared.

“Ladies,” he said smoothly, his voice like silk over ice. A silver bucket dangled from one hand, bottles clinking inside. “Thirsty?”

“No thanks,” Sienna said without missing a beat.

Hongjoong’s smirk tugged wider, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Suit yourself.”

Then he turned to Y/N and wiggled a finger at her in invitation. “You. Come.”

She glanced at her friends. Iris raised an eyebrow. Sienna mouthed, Are you sure?

Y/N nodded. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.” Though she wasn’t entirely sure why she herself wasn’t worried.

Hongjoong led her toward the edge of the floor, where the noise dimmed slightly beneath a curved archway.

“So,” he said, glancing sideways at her. “Who are you looking for?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been scanning the room since you got here. Looking for someone.” His expression was unreadable. “And I bet I can guess who…”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

He smirked. “San and Wooyoung won’t be here tonight. I’ve… called them off on business.”

“Business?” she echoed. “What kind of business?”

Hongjoong tilted his head, feigning thought. “Let’s call it… a favor. To someone very powerful. Devils have their own debts, after all.”

Y/N didn’t press. She had a feeling she wouldn’t get more if she tried.

Instead, Hongjoong led her over to a balcony overlooking the VIP floor. He pointed down to a man at a table below — broad-shouldered, red-faced, laughing too loudly as he handed off a thick credit card to a waitress in leather.

“There,” Hongjoong said. “That’s your first favor.”

“My what?”

“He’s human,” Hongjoong said simply. “From out of town. Stumbled in with a few clients, all drunk on success.”

Y/N’s pulse kicked up a notch. “And you want me to—?”

“Not leave with him,” he said, one finger lifted. “That’s rule one. He’s not for you.”

She waited.

“Rule two: get him to spend. Drinks. Bottle service. A VIP booth, maybe even two. Get creative. Be persuasive.” His voice dipped lower, more dangerous. “Make him feel like a god.”

“Why?” she asked, stomach knotting. “What’s the point?”

“Someone out there made a wish,” Hongjoong said, his tone bordering on bored — but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. “He gets to have the night of his life… before losing everything. That’s the deal. And I need someone like you to help me seal it.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “And if I do?”

Y/N tugged at the hem of her dress. She hated how perfect it felt. Hated that after hours of dancing and drinking and whatever spellbound nightmare this had become, the dress showed no signs of wear. No creases. No sweat stains. Even her boots gleamed, their black leather unmarred, as if she hadn’t stumbled through a crowded club at all.

She could’ve sworn, as they left the dance floor the night before, that her dress was rumpled and damp, her hair sticking to her neck with sweat. But sometime in the blur between then and now, it had all… vanished. As if erased by magic.

Hongjoong had been right.

There was no sleep here. No hunger. No thirst. No aching feet or splitting headaches.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Y/N would’ve killed to curl up in bed, to shut her eyes and wake up in her apartment with a hangover and regrets she could laugh about. Instead, she was stuck in this nightmare with no exit.

They reached the threshold of the club — the same moody, alluring space pulsing with sound and light. But to Y/N, everything felt off. The lights were too perfect. The drinks too clear. The people too beautiful.

“Okay,” Sienna said, halting them just outside the main floor. Her eyes scanned the crowd, sharp now. “Let’s spread out. Either look for someone who looks… I don’t know, human — or those assholes so we can kick their perfect, smug asses.”

“I’ll take column A,” Iris muttered.

“I’ll take both,” Sienna replied, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s go.”

They parted ways, slipping into the crowd.

Y/N drifted along the edge of the dance floor, avoiding the groups that tried to pull her in, ignoring the tempting smiles and outstretched hands. She wasn’t here to flirt with just anyone. She needed to find a target.

She scanned the room carefully.

Was that man’s eye color just too bright?

Was that woman’s skin glowing faintly?

Everyone looked like they could’ve stepped out of a dream. Sharp jawlines, flawless skin, impossibly poised. Nothing felt grounded. Nothing felt real.

Her heart sank. How do you find a mortal in a room full of gods?

“You look lonely.”

The voice slithered behind her before the presence registered. Smooth. Confident. Familiar.

Y/N turned slowly to find Hongjoong, his head tilted as if he were genuinely curious, an innocent smile dancing across his lips.

His suit was different tonight — deep navy, almost black, with an open collar. His hair was tousled in that impossibly styled way, and his skin shimmered under the club’s blue lights like moonstone.

“Stalking me now?” she said coolly.

“Just checking in,” he replied. “Have you found your solution yet?”

Y/N crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “You mean the mortal who’s going to rescue me with the power of love?”

He chuckled — a soft, almost amused sound. “It doesn’t have to be love. Just desire will do. Want is a powerful currency here.”

She stared at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course,” he said simply. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re fascinating to watch.”

Y/N stepped closer, lifting her chin. “Then maybe you can tell me which of these ‘people’ are actually people.”

“That would be cheating.” Hongjoong’s smile curved, slow and indulgent. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “This isn’t fun. It’s hell.”

“Is it?” he said softly. “Because from what I saw last night… you were enjoying yourself. Dancing. Laughing. Kissing fire with your eyes closed.”

Her face flushed, but she held her ground. “We didn’t know. You tricked us.”

“No.” His tone sharpened, barely. “They tricked you. I just gave you a place to land.”

Y/N looked away, her gaze dragging across the shimmering room. The crowd moved like a living sea — beautiful and unbothered.

“Why are you helping us?” she asked quietly.

Hongjoong’s expression shifted just slightly. His voice dropped, almost gentle. “Who says I am?”

Then, with a wink that was too knowing for comfort, he turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

Y/N exhaled shakily, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She scanned the room again — this time, looking a little harder. A little more determined.

That’s when Y/N saw Iris.

Across the club, lit by the shifting glow of violet strobes, her friend was smiling. Laughing, even.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

She was talking to Yeosang – the guy from the night before.

Panic lit in her chest like a struck match. Her boots thudded against the black tile as she pushed through the crowd, not caring who she bumped into. By the time she reached them, Iris had a drink in hand — the same deep red as the night before.

“Iris,” Y/N said sharply, grabbing her friend’s wrist.

Iris turned to her, beaming. “Y/N! Oh my god, he found me!”

Yeosang lifted his hand in hello, his expression honey-sweet. “I owe you an apology,” he said softly, almost sadly. “Last night was… mishandled. We didn’t want to frighten you.”

“You drugged us,” Y/N snapped.

He didn’t flinch. “The drink is only a doorway. Nothing you weren’t already looking for.”

Before Y/N could argue, another voice slid into the space between them like silk over skin.

“She’s pretty when she’s angry.”

Y/N turned and nearly ran into the chest of a muscled, lean man. His dark hair fell in a tousled fringe over eyes the color of polished onyx. His grin was cocky, self-assured, like he already knew how this would end. He didn’t look kind. He looked dangerous, like a riddle with a blade hidden in the answer.

“I’m Wooyoung,” he said, offering a hand that Y/N didn’t take. “You met my soulmate last night.”

She blinked. “Your… soulmate?”

“San,” he replied with a smirk. “He’s… let’s call it a unique bond. When one of us touches you, the other feels it.”

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure of how to respond. But then a rush of heat flooded her chest. The club tilted, flickering at the edges. Her heart stuttered. Flashes began to fill her head like a reel of film spinning too fast: San’s warm hands at her waist. His breath in her ear. His mouth grazing her throat. The pounding rhythm of music under her skin. The way he looked at her like he already owned her.

The memories weren’t just vivid—they were consuming. She could feel them, feel him—as if he were touching her again.

She gasped, grabbing the edge of the nearest table to steady herself.

Iris didn’t notice. She was still giggling beside Yeosang, entirely enchanted.

“What did you do to me?” Y/N whispered, eyes wide.

Wooyoung tilted his head, the grin still there but gentler now. “Nothing you didn’t want. Just a glimpse. A memory of what you already possess.”

Y/N’s thoughts spun. Her objective — the plan, the escape, the need to get out — slipped further from her mind like a dream melting in sunlight. Her body still tingled from the phantom touch. The seduction had been a whisper at first, but now it roared in her blood like wildfire.

She looked at Wooyoung.

He was watching her, head tilted just slightly, eyes heavy-lidded with something between amusement and hunger. Slowly—deliberately—he extended his hand toward her, palm up, as if he already knew what choice she would make.

Y/N didn’t move.

Not at first.

But her body betrayed her before her mind could catch up. Her pulse quickened, her skin prickling with heat. She felt the ache of it—the pull. Like gravity had shifted, and his hand was the center of her orbit.

She wanted to touch him.

No—needed to. It was as if her fingers ached with it, her skin humming in anticipation. Her lips parted and her breath came shallow, arousal curling low and molten in her stomach.

The memory of San’s hands still lingered like smoke on her skin, but it was Wooyoung standing in front of her now — eyes dark, smirk lazy, like he already knew how this would end. And part of her… part of her wanted him to be right.

Her hand twitched toward his. Then — barely — her fingers brushed his palm. Just a whisper of contact. But it was enough.

A jolt surged up her arm like static, stealing the breath from her chest. Wooyoung’s grin widened, all wicked confidence, and he stepped in — close enough that she could feel his breath against her jaw.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N caught a glimpse of Yeosang kissing Iris — slow and deliberate, reverently.

“I knew you’d give in,” Wooyoung murmured.

Y/N opened her mouth but no sound came. He gently laced his fingers through hers and tugged her forward, leading her off the floor and through a narrow door she hadn’t seen until now. It shut behind them with a soft click.

The room beyond was soaked in deep red light, shadows dancing across silk curtains and plush velvet cushions. It smelled like incense and something headier — something warm, spiced, intoxicating.

Wooyoung turned to face her again, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone with a softness that made her breath hitch.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

She nodded before she could stop herself.

Then Wooyoung kissed her.

Wooyoung kissed like temptation itself — slow and consuming, like he wanted her to forget everything else. His hands skimmed her waist, pulling her closer, and her arms wrapped around his neck without thinking, her body answering before her brain could catch up.

He didn’t rush. There was no urgency — just heat, and hands, and the kind of tension that unraveled everything else. His lips moved down her jaw, brushing her throat. Her fingers twisted in his hair, tugging him back up to her mouth. His laugh was low and pleased, and it vibrated against her skin.

By the time they pulled apart, her heart was racing, her skin flushed, and her thoughts—

Her thoughts were nowhere to be found.

She blinked slowly, dazed.

Wooyoung looked just as satisfied, still cradling her hips with that same possessive ease.

“You see now, don’t you?” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers. “Why no one ever really leaves.”

Y/N pulled back — breathless, heart pounding.

“I need to go,” she said, more to herself than to him. She turned on her heel, hand fumbling for the door handle.

Wooyoung didn’t stop her. He only leaned back against the velvet cushions, watching her with a lazy tilt to his head.

Y/N opened the door.

And froze.

Standing just outside was Hongjoong — arms crossed, face shadowed in crimson light. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… they burned.

“Interesting,” he said coolly, voice like a blade drawn slow. “I was wondering where you'd slipped off to.”

Y/N stepped back instinctively, pulse stuttering.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, gaze flicking from her lips to the room behind her.

She couldn’t speak.

He didn’t wait for her to.

“What the hell is going on?” Sienna finally asked, her voice tense.

Hongjoong tilted his head, expression unreadable. “You’re safe,” he said, like it was supposed to be comforting. “Relatively speaking.”

“That’s not an answer,” Iris said. “What is this place?”

He leaned back slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching — not quite a smile. “This club is... a foyer. A threshold. A place between two worlds — the mortal and the spiritual. Few know the truth behind its existence, and those who do you wouldn’t consider…human.”

Y/N’s mouth went dry. “So we’re not... human anymore?”

“You're not just human anymore,” he said calmly. “You’ve been marked. Touched by something beyond. That pomegranate liquor you drank? It wasn’t simply a drink. It was binding.”

“We’re stuck here?!” Iris seemed near tears.

Sienna’s hands gripped the arms of her chair. “There has to be a way out.”

Hongjoong looked at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he rolled his jaw, a subtle sign of deliberation. “There is,” he said eventually, voice quiet.

All three girls leaned forward.

“You must be led out,” he said, resting his chin lightly on his hand. “By a mortal. Someone from the outside must take your hand and guide you out into the daylight.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s everything,” he said. “No one can escape on their own. You must be chosen. Wanted. Pulled back.”

Iris looked stricken. “What happens if no one does?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer. He simply rose from his chair in one fluid motion. “Come. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

They followed him down a quiet hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly, far beyond what had once felt like a confined club. Tall, arched mirrors lined the walls, each one reflecting strange, distorted images — flickers of places Y/N didn’t recognize, scenes that twisted out of view when she looked too long. The deeper they went, the heavier the silence became, pressing in from all sides. The building felt alive somehow, pulsing around them like a living, breathing thing.

He stopped in front of a heavy door and pushed it open. “This will be yours.”

The room was opulent — more luxurious than any hotel suite Y/N had ever seen. Silk-draped chaise lounges, gold-framed mirrors leaning against the walls, a claw-foot tub that gleamed silver in the corner. There were carved screens for privacy and a faint scent of rose and smoke lingering in the air. But there were no beds in sight.

“What is this place?” Iris breathed.

“Your quarters. You won’t need food or sleep — those are mortal limitations,” Hongjoong said, trailing his fingers along the back of one of the chairs. “But you’ll feel other cravings. More... unearthly ones. You’ll understand soon enough.”

“What are we supposed to wear?” Sienna asked, opening the tall armoire in the corner. It was completely empty.

Y/N looked down at herself — the tight red dress she’d put on for a night of flirting, the tall black boots that had started to pinch hours ago. I can’t spend eternity in this, she thought, a little queasy.

As if reading her mind, Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder. “The demons here enjoy bartering. Flirt, beg, bargain — they’ll offer you things in exchange. Clothing, comfort, pleasures.” His eyes flicked meaningfully toward Y/N. “Some of them already have their eye on you.”

Her skin prickled.

“But be careful,” he added, his voice lower now, more intimate. “This world is full of beautiful distractions. Don’t fall too far into it. Or you may not want to leave — even if someone comes looking.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

As soon as the heavy door shut behind Hongjoong, the silence cracked.

“Guys—what the fuck!?” Y/N burst out, spinning to face the others.

“No, seriously. What the actual fuck just happened?” Sienna repeated. 

“I—what even was that?” Iris said, pacing. “This can’t be real. It’s like some surreal fever dream. Like a… cursed fairy tale or something!”

“Okay, okay, everyone just—breathe,” Y/N said, even though her heart was pounding in her ears. She collapsed onto one of the silk-covered chaise lounges, running a hand through her hair. “Let’s just… think through this.”

They all fell silent for a moment, trying to reconstruct the night through the haze of cocktails and dance floor euphoria.

“Who were those guys?” Iris asked suddenly. “The ones with the drinks. Yeosang, San, and… Yunho?”

Iris groaned. “Are you kidding me? Yeosang was so nice! I thought we were flirting! And San literally said ‘it’s not as dangerous as it sounds.’ I thought that was, like… hot. Not an actual warning.”

“I drank what he gave me,” Y/N muttered. “I thanked him. Oh my god.”

“They tricked us,” Iris said, her voice hardening.

“Or they didn’t,” Sienna countered. “Maybe this is just what they do. Maybe we were… chosen or something.”

Y/N gave a dry laugh. “Great. Chosen to be what?”

There was a pause.

Then, Y/N straightened. “Okay. Hongjoong said there is a way out.”

“The mortal thing?” Iris asked.

“Right. Someone alive, someone real, has to lead us out by the hand,” Y/N said. “They have to want to take us out into the daylight.”

Sienna sat up straighter. “There were plenty of men here tonight. We just have to wait for the next party. I’m sure we can get someone to hook up with us. Or at least… want to.”

Y/N snorted. “So now it’s a seduction mission?”

Sienna winked. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Honestly, I think I’m off men,” Iris said.

“Find a woman then!” Sienna said.

Y/N gave a tight smile. “Whoever we can get.”

They looked at each other — equal parts terrified, furious, and determined.

Iris exhaled slowly. “Okay. Fine. We’re trapped in some supernatural nightclub. Step one: survive. Step two: seduce a mortal.”