LYNN

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon.” Sunghoon set the magazine down on your sofa table. “I’m your new roommate. I don’t know if Mister Kang told you that I am moving in today instead of on the first. I had a more or less spontaneous change of plans.” 

No. 

No, Mr Kang did not. 

You opened your mouth before closing it, willing your face into a small, tight smile. 

“Hi,” your voice was pitched a notch too high, and you cringed. “I am Y/N. Are you sure you are in the right apartment? I mean, considering you probably got the keys from Mr Kang, yes, but he didn’t tell me anything about a roommate? I know Apartment 4B is a free room?” 

Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows. “This is Apartment 4D, right? I definitely signed a contract for the smaller room in Apartment 4D.”

“Oh,” you just said and blinked at him.

The smaller room in your apartment had been rented out for as long as you lived here. Not by you, but by some mystery girl that seemed to have no interest in living in this apartment. Mister Kang didn’t care if the other girl came or not, as long as the rent was paid on time, and told you you were free to use the room until she did indeed show up. 

So that is what you did. 

You transformed the small room into your studio. 

And you knew for a fact that the desk and the floor were a cluttered mess at the moment. 

Heat shot up your neck at the realisation.

“I–uhm–I didn't know you were moving in at all. I’ve been using the room as my studio. Just give me like an hour, and I’ll move all of my stuff into my room,” you sighed, already feeling a headache coming. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at your words, then glanced toward the hallway leading to his supposed new room. "You’ve been using it as a studio?"

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah. I mean, it’s been empty since I moved in. Not technically empty? Someone rented it out, but she never came, and Mr Kang said I could use the room if my supposed roommate didn’t want it. So I just… took over? I’ll be really fast, so you can start putting all your stuff in there."

Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in amusement, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So, I’m kicking you out of your studio?"

"Technically, yes. But it’s not your fault. Mr Kang just kind of forgot to tell me you were coming? At all? So I didn’t know I had to clean it out." 

He nodded, glancing back toward the hallway before looking at you again. "Well, if you need help moving your stuff, I don’t mind."

You shook your head, taking off your jacket, unceremoniously dropping it onto the sofa. "No, it’s fine. It’s mostly styrofoam, pens and sketches. It's fine."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind." 

He moved toward the sofa, lifting a box and putting it onto the floor before flopping down on the green fabric. “Are you a design student?”

“Oh. No. I study architecture.” You shook your head and made your way through the maze of boxes and furniture in your living room towards the hallway that separated your room and now apparently Sunghoon's room. 

“Oh, that's cool. I am in PE,” he grinned at you.

You just nodded again, not in the mood to talk with anyone right now, even less with the mysterious girl, well, boy, you now had to live together with. "Ah. That's nice. Just… make yourself at home while I clean, I guess?"

Sunghoon grinned. "Will do, roommate."

The word made you wince.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stood in the doorway of your studio, well, Sunghoon’s room, mentally preparing yourself for the hour of cleaning ahead. The small space was overflowing with architectural sketches, blueprint rolls, rulers, model pieces, and textbooks.

This was… embarrassing.

You usually were a really organised person, but with work and your deadline coming up, you just didn’t have the time and energy to clean up behind you. The last few weeks had been horrible; you were chasing one deadline after another, had worked endlessly on your projects and studied at the same time. Sleep was a luxury and cleaning was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you religiously did every day was cook. 

With a tired nod, you started moving, piling all of the cut-up styrofoam and paper into a trash bin, carrying unused styrofoam into your room and getting a broom from the kitchen. 

After around half an hour, Sunghoon slightly knocked on the doorframe to his room, startling you from where you were sorting through your sketches and designs. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, walking into the room, doing his best not to step on anything. 

You swallowed, ignoring the crawling feeling under your skin while he looked around with a curious look on his face.

“No, it's fine,” you mumbled, tiredly smiling at him. “I usually am a really clean person. It’s just…exam season.” 

Your head was aching, a slow pressure building behind your eyes, and you were hungry. You just wanted to eat something and roll up in your bed, but you weren’t about to make Sunghoon help you clean his room when it should have been clean from the get-go. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm. No worries. If it’s just your space that you use for creative chaos, I don’t have any problem with that.”

You pressed your lips onto each other and gave him a small nod before turning back to the stacks of paper on the bed. Most of them were half-finished sketches and drafts you never bothered to throw away, in case you needed them again. It would not be the first time. 

Sunghoon’s voice startled you. "What's this?” He gestured to a half-finished architectural model on his desk, a sleek modernist building carefully cut out of foam board and assembled with tiny, precise details. You spent countless hours on it, just for your professor to ask if you could start over since he didn’t think it was the best you could do.

You hesitated before replying. “It was supposed to be my final project. For my design class.”

Sunghoon bent down slightly, inspecting it. 

“This is insane,” he murmured, his fingers hovering near the structure but not touching it. “It looks like something you’d see in an actual firm.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just gave a small nod. You watched him inspect the model for a second longer before he reached for a stack of your books. 

“W-What are you doing?” Your hands stopped mid-motion, the papers in them unrolling slightly again. 

“Helping,” he said simply, not looking up. “You’re going to take forever if you do this alone. I’ll just put them into your room, okay?”

“O…kay,” you mumbled, focusing back on your sketches.

An hour and a half later, the room was clean. Well, mostly clean. Your things were now safely in your room, and Sunghoon’s moving boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, ready to be unpacked.

After you gave Sunghoon a tour of the kitchen and went over the house rules, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the living room when you were done. 

"Uhm… do you, uh, need anything else?"

Sunghoon looked up from where he was stacking his books on the shelf. "Nope. I think I got it."

"Okay, um, good. Well, uhm, goodnight then."

His lips curled slightly, amused at your awkwardness. "Goodnight, Y/N."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

When you woke up and made your way to the kitchen at 6:30 am the next day, you felt like you had just risen from the dead. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were half-closed, and your body was running purely on muscle memory as you wandered towards the kitchen.

There was light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen, and for a second you wondered if you forgot to turn it off yesterday or if you were just hallucinating again. But when you rubbed your eyes and looked up, you realised something far worse than hallucination was happening.

There was a half-naked man in your kitchen.

Sunghoon stood by the counter, one hand resting on the counter, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his bare upper body was exposed to the warm air in the kitchen. 

He turned, his eyes heavy with sleep, and blinked at you, standing frozen in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he yawned again. "Morning."

"Uh", you cleared your throat, snapping your gaze away from his body. Ogling at your admittedly stupidly attractive new roommate was very inappropriate. "Morning."

Your voice sounded way too high-pitched.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just poured himself a cup of coffee, completely unbothered.

You walked to the fridge, pretending not to care that he was standing next to it and grabbed one of your containers with porridge inside. 

By the time you turned back around, Sunghoon had disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, he re-emerged, now wearing a T-shirt.

"Do you have any plans today?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter as he took a sip of his coffee.

You glanced at him, still feeling a bit weird to have seen him half-naked after knowing him for not even twenty-four hours. "Uh… yeah. I have work today."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You work during the break?"

"Yes?" You frowned. "I mean, my scholarship covers a lot, but I still have to pay for food, transportation, materials, and extra costs. It adds up."

Sunghoon hummed, nodding. "What do you do?"

"I work as an intern at an architecture studio," you grabbed a spoon and honey, setting them on the counter. "I mostly organise files, scan documents, and do small tasks for the senior architects. I also make coffee and refill the printer paper, which is apparently the most important job in the entire office."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle at that. "Sounds fun."

You shrugged. "It pays. Do you have plans for today?"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward your food as you peeled off the lid of your porridge and took a small spoonful. "The only thing I’ll be doing today is train. Probably up until I get thrown out again."

You blinked at him. "Training?"

"Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "The season ended, but I’m still training. I’m working to qualify for the Olympics."

You froze mid-bite.

"The…Olympics?"

"Yeah."

Your spoon slowly lowered. "You’re an athlete?"

Sunghoon nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’m a figure skater.” 

“Oh,” you just answered, not knowing what else to say.

Both of you went silent for a long moment until he cleared his throat again. “I’ll probably come home pretty late. Do you mind me showering here or should I shower at the rink? I don’t want to, like, wake you up or something.”

You hummed and shook your head. “No, that’s all right. I sleep well even if there is noise around me.”

“Okay,” he nodded again. 

“Are you really training for the Olympics?” You asked after a bit of silence. 

"Hopefully," Sunghoon shrugged. "If I qualify."

For a moment, you just stared at him and tried to imagine him in one of those pretty dresses the figure skaters wore. Then, you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. "That’s really impressive."

Sunghoon just shrugged, like it was no big deal.

You took another bite of your porridge, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. You never did anything that made you special. Or something impressive. 

Your roommate took another sip of his coffee, watching you. "You always eat that little? I feel like if that was the only thing I ate for breakfast, I’d starve all day."

You swallowed, a bit caught off guard. "I meal-prep my portions."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Are you on a diet? Or just because it’s convenient?"

You hesitated for a second, the porridge suddenly heavy in your stomach, and just gave a tight smile. "It’s convenient."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon came home. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to come home to an empty apartment. In the last week that he had been living here, he had barely seen you around. 

You were usually out of the house when he rolled himself out of bed, and aside from a few short greetings in the kitchen, when both of you were at home, you barely talked. 

He figured you were just shy or maybe just didn’t like talking to people in general. 

Not that he had a problem with that. 

He himself wasn’t much of a talker either, and he really enjoyed the fact that you weren’t as noisy or nosy as his previous roommate. 

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched his arms over his head, sighing as he made his way into the living room. 

He poured himself a glass of water, hoping it would help him cool down a bit. Even though it was almost ten p.m., it was still unbearably hot outside, and the apartment wasn’t nearly as cold as he wished it to be. You rarely turned on the AC when you weren’t home. Sunghoon didn’t mind that; he was at the rink most of the time anyway, but today he felt like he was melting. 

The remote for the AC was on top of the fridge, and it came to life with a small humming sound after he turned it on. His eyes flickered over the pictures and postcards that were held up by colourful magnets on the fridge doors. Most of them seemed to be from the same place, all of them portraying the beach.

Before he could stop himself, he had reached forward and carefully picked one of them up. He knew he shouldn’t be doing that, but he was curious. He really didn’t know much about you, even though you were living together. For all he knew, you could be a serial killer who would strangle him to death while he was asleep. 

The thought made him chuckle. 

You were more than a head smaller than him and didn’t look strong enough to do that; you were rather petite.

Sunghoon turned the postcard around. 

Hi Bug! Busan is as beautiful as ever. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing well in Seoul. Take care. See you soon.- Love and miss you, Donghyuck :) 

Oh. 

He didn’t realise you had a boyfriend. 

Not that it would make him think differently of you, but he thought you would have mentioned it to him at least once. 

Donghyuck definitely sounded like a boyfriend's name. 

Your hometown was close to Busan after all. Maybe he went to Busan to study, and you went to Seoul, and the two of you were sending postcards back and forth? 

Sunghoon had asked around if someone might know you, and surprisingly, Jay recognised you after he had shown him your profile picture. 

He knew your brother, or well, a very close friend of your brother, Jeno, who had dated one of Jay’s friends for a while. Jay had told Sunghoon that the three of you came from a small town near Busan, but couldn’t tell him more about you; he hadn’t met you in person and had only seen pictures. 

Sunghoon shook his head and took another sip of water. 

He should really get to know you a bit. He really didn’t want to stumble into you and your boyfriend without warning.  

When he was just about to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, the front door opened. Sunghoon’s fight-or-flight response immediately set in, but when he saw your figure walking into the hallway, he relaxed again.

You seemed exhausted; your shoulders dropped, and your head hung low as you let your bag fall onto the floor, kicking off your shoes. You rubbed at your temple and took a deep, audible breath before lifting your gaze to meet his. The dim kitchen light cast soft shadows over your face, emphasising the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised. “Were you at work until now?” 

“Yeah, we were short-staffed in the cinema today,” you mumbled, walking past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.

“The cinema?” Sunghoon repeated. “I thought you worked at the architecture studio?”

"I do," you sighed, filling your glass with water just like he did a couple of minutes before. "This is my second job."

His eyebrows rose. "You have two jobs?"

You let out a small huff of laughter, but it was completely devoid of amusement. "Sadly, yeah."

Sunghoon blinked. “That sounds like a lot.”

You just nodded. “It is. But I get to stay in Seoul, and have at least a bit of money to spend on myself. So it’s worth it.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The sunlight was drifting in through the sheer curtains in the living room, heating up the bare skin of your legs. You didn’t mind the sun or the heat; you preferred it over the artificial cold coming from the ACs that were everywhere. Now that you barely had time for anything but working and studying, even during the summer break, you were almost desperate to catch a bit of sunlight. 

You were curled onto the sofa, reading a book from your to-be-read pile that accumulated during the semester, when Sunghoon shuffled into the living room, still half asleep. His hair was standing up in every direction, and he had red streaks on his face that came from sleeping on wrinkly fabric. He let himself fall next to you on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes again, grumbling sleepily. “Good morning, Y/N.”

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you said softly, turning your attention back to your book. You had noticed over the course of the last week that Sunghoon wasn’t a morning person. He was always grumpy in the morning, but still polite and nice to you.

For a long moment he just sat there, his eyes closed. The slow and soft breathing that came from Sunghoon made you think he had fallen asleep again, so you almost flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "Got any plans today?"

"Not really," you murmured, tucking your feet under yourself to make some more space for him.

Sunghoon opened one eye. “You don’t have work today?”

 "The studio is closed on weekends, and since I usually work on weekdays in the cinema, I have weekends off. "

"Mm," he grunted. "At least two days of the week, you don’t have to run out the door at seven.”

You let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. It’s nice to sleep in."

The conversation faded into silence, and you shifted your focus back onto your book. 

Just as you were finishing your chapter, his voice suddenly broke the silence in the living room again.

“Do you not like the AC?” 

You looked up and blinked at him. "The AC?"

He hummed. “Yeah, you rarely turn it on.”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “I like to open the windows in the morning. I like it warm, so I only turn it on when it gets unbearably warm. We can switch it on if you’d like to?” 

Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it’s fine. I was just wondering. Would you like me to open mine as well?” 

You hesitated. On the first day, you had thought about asking him if he could open his window, so there would be better airflow, but decided against it.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to overstep."

He exhaled a soft laugh. "Don’t worry. I'll just open it myself. Then you can’t overstep anything."

You smiled faintly. "Thank you."

For a while, there was nothing but the occasional rustling of your pages and the sound of cars in the distance. 

Then Sunghoon spoke again. 

He didn’t seem like a person who talked a lot. 

But apparently, he had the desire to talk to you sometimes. He would come to your room or the kitchen when you were there and strike up conversations. It was nice. Sunghoon was nice. 

You googled him and asked Jaemin about Sunghoon when you were working the Wednesday shift in the cinema together. Wednesday was always slow, not that you minded; it gave you plenty of time to talk to Jaemin.

According to him, Sunghoon was really nice. 

"Do you miss home?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, only to find that he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

You hesitated before answering. "Sometimes. Tongyeong has a certain charm to itself."

Sunghoon nodded slowly. „It must be weird to move from such a small town to Seoul. I grew up in Suwon, but I think I spend more time in Seoul than anywhere else. My childhood and teenage years took place in ice rinks in Seoul.“

You thought for a second. 

It was weird. 

The house you grew up in was always loud. Either your brothers or the guests downstairs in the restaurant were constantly talking or making noises, and suddenly you were in this apartment, all alone, and it was silent. 

You never realised how much you would miss your brothers until they weren’t just across the hall.

„Yeah. It’s weird,” you hummed. It’s so quiet and loud here at the same time. At home, you rarely hear this many cars passing by, but my family is quite loud, so living alone is very quiet,“ you put in a bookmark so you wouldn't lose your page. 

You assumed Sunghoon was in the mood to talk right now. 

„Really? Do you have siblings?“ He tilted his head slightly. His hair flopped down. 

You hummed and nodded. “Three brothers. All older. Seven years, four years and two years. What about you?“

„I have one sister. Five years younger than me. And a dog,“ he chuckled.

„Oh, that’s nice. I always wanted a pet. But my parents wouldn’t allow it. They were busy enough with 4 kids and a restaurant.“

"Your parents have a restaurant?" Sunghoon asked.

"Yeah," you nodded

"Do you help out?" He sat up, turning fully to you, his arm coming to rest on the backrest of the sofa.

"Not really," you admitted. "My parents always told me to focus on my studies and made my brothers help them. I would help if they let me. I usually cleaned out the flat, though. I like the area I live in to be really clean, and growing up, my brothers weren’t the cleanest.“

Sunghoon hummed. „Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think that’s pretty nice. That you are such a clean person, I mean. I love my old roommate, but he left his shit everywhere and should be sued for noise complaints. That guy never shuts up.“

„Oh, that sounds annoying,“ you chuckled. You could see how that would annoy Sunghoon. 

“It’s all right,” he hummed and lifted himself from the sofa. “Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about going for a run and getting something from the Creek. My friend’s girlfriend works there, and I can get us free stuff?”

“I, uhm. I already ate. But thank you so much for offering,” you smiled at him.

“Sure, always.” 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped back into the apartment. By the time he finished his run and stepped into the small cafe across the campus, the sun had started blazing. 

He peeled his shoes and socks off and had to stop himself from just ripping his drenched shirt off his body. Sure, you had seen him half naked once, but that was an accident, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it, so he sighed and moved towards the bathroom after dropping off the bag of baked goods in the kitchen. 

Sunghoon had expected you to have gone back to your room, but when his gaze flickered toward the living room, he noticed the top of your head peeking over the sofa backrest. 

“Y/N?” He stepped closer to the sofa. 

You were asleep.

Your legs were slightly bent, and your arms were in awkward positions, one sprawled across your face, blocking your eyes from the light coming in through the living room windows, the other one resting loosely over your stomach. The book you had been reading was lying on the floor next to you, seemingly having slipped from your hand when you fell asleep. 

Sunghoon reached down to pick it up, placing it onto the sofa table, before quietly wandering towards the bathroom to wash off the sweat still running down his back. 

He made his way back to the kitchen twenty minutes later and cursed the architect who designed your flat for deciding on building an open-style kitchen. It was actually what sold him on the place, but now, with only a kitchen pass-through separating the two spaces, it also meant that if he used the coffee machine, it would definitely wake you up. He signed and grabbed the orange juice jug in the fridge instead. 

As he poured himself a glass, his eyes landed on the vase near the window.  The tulips inside were starting to wilt, slowly letting their heads hang down. A few petals had fallen onto the windowsill.

Without thinking, he got up, grabbed the vase and changed the water. Maybe that would keep them alive for a bit longer. 

Sunghoon took another sip, glancing at your figure again. He was thinking about waking you up, so you could go to your bed and get proper rest, but before he could move, you stirred. 

At first, it was just a sleepy shift, a small stretch of your legs. But then, your eyelids fluttered, and with a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself up, blinking blearily at the room.

“Hi.”

Your gaze flickered to him, still half-asleep. 

“Hi,” you murmured back, your voice soft.

He hesitated for a second before nodding toward the counter. “I got you a salt bread.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, then you followed his gaze to the extra plate. You stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I got them for free, so I thought I’d just bring you one too.”

You hummed again before flopping back onto the sofa, stretching your arms above your head with a sleepy little sigh. Sunghoon watched you for a second, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching. You looked tired, even though you had just slept.

When you finally pushed yourself up from the couch, he glanced back down at his juice as if he had been doing that the whole time. He heard your soft footsteps on the floor and then watched you pad over to the kitchen again, yawning as you sank onto the stool across from him. Your hair was a little messy, one side pressed flatter than the other, and you still looked half asleep when you picked up the pastry and stared at it for a moment before tearing off a small piece.

“Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said quietly. “I really like these.”

He only hummed and leaned back slightly, watching as you took a bite.

“Me too. But I can’t really eat bread during the season,” he said. “So I have to stuff myself with anything gluten now, before I won’t be able to.”

You looked up at him, brows drawing together a little. “Why?”

He gave a small shrug. “I get stomach aches sometimes, and bloating is honestly the worst before practice. I really do not need to feel like I’ve swallowed a rock when I’m trying to jump on ice.”

You blinked once, then nodded slowly like you were processing that. “So it’s like a diet thing?”

He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just my stomach being dramatic.”

That seemed to ease something in your face, and you lowered your eyes back to the pastry in your hands. He watched you break off another piece, smaller this time. 

“I kind of get that,” you said after a moment.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “My stomach is pretty sensitive, I guess. I kind of have to eat small portions more often; otherwise it gets upset.”

That made him look at you properly. “Really?”

You nodded, almost like you were apologising for it. “And gluten makes it worse sometimes. Not always, but enough that I usually just try not to have too much of it at once.”

“Hm,” he hummed, because he didn’t really know what else to say. That sounded annoying, honestly. “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said quickly, then seemed to catch how fast you had said it and softened a little. “I mean. It’s annoying, but I’ve had it for a while.”

He nodded once. That made sense enough.

“Do you meal prep because of that?” he asked.

You looked down at the pastry again. “Mostly. It’s easier that way. If I have small portions ready, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Fair,” he said. “I meal prep during the season as well.”

That got your attention. You looked up again, a little surprised. “Really?”

He gave you a look. “Of course. I have to eat a lot, but cooking every day is a pain.”

Your mouth curved slightly at that. “You hate cooking?”

“I don’t hate it,” he said, though that was being generous. “I just don’t want to do it after training. I need a lot of protein and carbohydrates every day, so meal prep is the only way I stay sane.”

You nodded slowly, like you were filing that away. “That makes sense.”

“It’s annoying that I have to eat the same thing three days in a row,” he added. “But it works.”

A small laugh slipped out of you, soft and warm, and he glanced up before he could stop himself. “I actually like cooking,” you said.

He blinked once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, more certain this time. “It’s kind of one of the few things I don’t mind doing. I like making food for people. I like not eating alone.”

Sunghoon grinned at you. “That’s convenient.”

You frowned a little. “How is that convenient?”

He shrugged. “Because if you ever feel like cooking for me, I would definitely not stop you.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and a little disbelieving. “You would want me to cook for you?”

“I might even sit still and not get in your way while you’re in the kitchen,” he said seriously.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, but he could tell you were amused. “Wow. Generous.”

“I know,” he said, completely deadpan.

You took another bite of the pastry. 

“How often do you train?” you asked after a moment.

“Every day.”

Your brows lifted. “Every day?”

“Usually once,” he said. “Sometimes twice if Coach is being annoying.”

“That’s intense.”

“It’s normal for me,” he said, because it was. “But I burn a lot of calories, so I have to eat enough to stay at my weight.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with that same thoughtful expression you always got when you were actually trying to understand something. “You really have to eat that much?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

That made you smile faintly. “You make it sound like a chore.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted. “I’d rather skate and then disappear into bed, but apparently my body disagrees.”

You laughed softly. “Oh no, poor you.” 

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “if you ever feel like cooking, you can definitely make me something. I can’t promise I’ll be useful, but I can at least wash the dishes.”

Your eyes flicked to him. “That might actually be a good deal. I hate doing the dishes.”

“It is a good deal,” he said. “I’m very fair.”

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the sound of birds outside filtering in through the open windows.

“Sure,” you hummed and took another bite. 

Sunghoon leaned onto his arms. “So what do you do on your day off?”

You shrugged. “Laundry. Grocery shopping. Paint sometimes, but most of the time I just sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really making the most of your free time.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t have much free time, so I have to use it well.”

Sunghoon thought about that for a second. It made sense. He understood what it was like to have every second of your day planned out, to always have something you were supposed to be doing.

His eyes wandered towards the framed canvas hanging against one of the kitchen walls. He had always thought it might have come with the apartment, just like the furniture in his room, but when he took a closer look, there was a stamp with your initials on it. 

“Did you paint that one?” He asked, nodding towards it. 

Your gaze flickered to the painting, and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you mumbled. “Last summer break. It’s oil, so it took an eternity to dry. But, uh, the sun helped.”

He tilted his head back toward the painting. “Oh wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s so cool. Are the other ones yours, too?”

“Uh. Yeah,” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nodded again. “I was feeling…really inspired last year. And my brother got me oil paints for my birthday so I just painted. But we can take them off the walls if you don’t like them? I don’t mind, and you live here too, so you should also feel comfortable and if–”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckled, interrupting your rambling, and your gaze flickered up to his face before you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “It’s fine. I like them. It makes the apartment feel a bit homier. You’re really talented.” 

“I–,” you nodded again, and Sunghoon had to suppress a laugh. You suddenly seemed so flustered. 

“I never really had the chance to paint with oils before since they’re super expensive. But, uh, money well spent, I guess?”

He looked back at the paintings again, his gaze lingering for a moment. It was really well done. “They are really well done. You should think about selling them, Y/N. Not many people are able to do this.” 

You quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze. And then, you laughed. A weird, nervous little laugh, your cheeks flushing a bit.

“Oh, no, I mean–it’s just practice, really,” you blurted out, waving a hand in the air. “It’s not like–it’s not, like, some crazy talent or anything. It’s just… You do it enough, and it sort of, um, happens?”

“Still,” he said, amused now, “it’s really cool.”

You made a weird, stiff nod, then immediately picked up your water and took the smallest possible sip.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stepped into your apartment, shivering slightly at the cool air pressing against your skin. 

Sunghoon must have turned on the AC again. 

It was almost unbearably hot outside, the pavement heating up during the day and not cooling down even in the dark of the night, but inside, it was much colder. 

You never really liked using the AC too much; the temperature drop always left you uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind the cold. 

You placed your shoes neatly next to his by the door and stepped further into the cool apartment. The sound of the television playing in the background hummed through the air. Sunghoon was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, eyes focused on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, not really sure what to say, if you should say anything at all. You didn’t want to disturb Sunghoon and make him miss something in his show, but before you could decide, Sunghoon reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

His head turned toward you. “Hey.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Hi.”

He sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “How was work?”

You sighed and shrugged, making your way into the kitchen. “It was fine. Busier than usual.”

You and Sunghoon had somehow become something like friends during the last two weeks; it was nice having him around, filling the silence whenever it became unbearable, but also staying quiet when the world was a bit too loud.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed and nodded before pulling the freezer open and shuffling through the bags of frozen food. “It’s usually not that packed during summer shifts, but today was weirdly busy.” 

You found the familiar container of kolddugi muchim that you couldn’t stop thinking about all day, pulling it out underneath a bag of frozen broccoli Sunghoon had bought the day before. “At least Jaemin was there. It was fun with him.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze flicking back to the screen for a moment. “Who’s Jaemin?”

You hesitated slightly before standing up from the crouching position you were in. “My friend and coworker, I guess. He works the counter with me.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly. “You work with him a lot?”

The question made you frown a bit. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” he said, shrugging. “Just wondering. I’m just trying to keep on track with all of the names and people you tell me about.”

You nodded slowly before turning back to the counter to start defrosting your food. Your favourite pot was still in the dishwasher; it hadn’t been run today. There weren’t any new dishes in the sink either.

You hesitated for a second. 

“Have you eaten today?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Sunghoon looked at you, almost like he was caught off guard by the question. “Uh… no. I was too lazy to cook after I came from the gym, so I just had a protein shake.”

You frowned slightly. 

A protein shake was not a meal, especially not if he had been training today. 

You shifted your weight, debating for a second before clearing your throat. “Do you… Want some? I’m making kolddugi muchim and rice.”

His eyes lit up a little, his usual neutral expression shifting. “Oh, for sure. That sounds way better than another shake.”

With a nod, you turned back to the counter. “Okay.”  

Sunghoon stood up, stretching slightly. “Need help with anything?”

“Um,” you thought for a second, going through the list of things you might need. “Could you go to the GS25 down the street and get some mu kimchi? Only if it’s no trouble. I can go too.”

He waved you off, already grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

The apartment fell silent again as the door shut behind him.

You stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint dialogue from the drama still playing on TV. Then, shaking off the quiet, you turned back to the stove.

The scent of simmering garlic and gochugaru filled the air, thick and warm. It clung to the fabric of your clothes and seeped into the walls of the small kitchen. 

You closed your eyes for a second.

It smelled like home.

Like summer afternoons in the restaurant, your mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. The sharp tang of kimchi mingling with the sweetness of caramelised fish sauce. The distant sound of seagulls outside, the heavy heat of the South pressing against the window screens.

You exhaled, opening your eyes again.

It had been a while since you were home. 

You wanted to go home during the summer break, leave Seoul and all its stress behind for a couple of weeks, but then you were offered your internship and couldn’t go it. 

Swallowing the sudden ache, you focused on stirring the sauce, watching the deep red paste thicken over the heat. 

Cooking had always been something comforting, something familiar. 

You never saw yourself working in the restaurant after you finished high school, but you missed living by the sea, close to your family. 

Donghyuck had moved to Seoul a year after you did, and you were glad. He came to visit you a lot, claiming that he needed a break from seeing his roommate’s face from time to time, only to end up bringing Jeno along. He had been Donghyuck's best friend for so long, Jeno was basically your older brother as well, so it was a given that you cooked for him as well. 

The sound of the door being unlocked ripped you from your thoughts, and your head snapped up to watch Sunghoon step back inside the apartment, a small plastic bag in his hand. “Got it.”

“That was fast.”

He shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. “I have long legs.”

You glanced inside, pulling out the package of mu kimchi. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. “If you’re cooking for me, it’s the least I can do, Y/N.”

His eyes flicked to the stove. “It smells really good.”

“It’s my mom’s. She gives me containers of this stuff every time I visit home. Sometimes I have to eat kolddugi muchim for days after I’ve been home because it won’t fit into the freezer,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t complain about eating kolddugi muchim for days. If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll gladly help you eat some of the kolddugi muchim you can’t fit into the freezer.” Sunghoon grinned and reached up to grab two sets of plates and bowls from the cabinet. 

You just nodded and smiled at him while dropping the still slightly frozen baby octopus into your mom’s premade sauce. The sizzling of the pan was the only sound for a few moments. 

“I’ll go and turn off the TV. I’ll be right back,” Sunghoon said and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later, the music box he placed in the kitchen made a sound, and Sunghoon’s playlist hummed through the speakers, while you finished cooking.

Somehow, the two of you had picked designated seats at the kitchen table across from each other, so whenever the two of you had eaten together, there was no question who would be sitting where. 

You watched Sunghoon pile some of the baby octopus onto his plate. “It may be a bit spicy. I kinda put a lot of sauce in there. 

He just shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t mind the spice.”

“Okay,” you nodded, scooping some rice onto your spoon, trying to not obviously stare at him while he tried the food. 

His brows lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod. “This is good.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Really?”

He hummed. “Yeah. This is nice.”

A strange sense of relief settled in your chest. You took a small bite yourself, humming in delight when it did taste good. Not as good as if your mom made it freshly, but it was still good. 

You would have to call your mom later to thank her for cooking for you. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon stood outside your door, listening to the faint sound of music coming from inside. He knocked once, then again when you didn’t answer right away.

When he had opened up the fridge this morning, both your shelve and his shelve were almost empty. He knew you would be going grocery shopping today as well, so he figured he could just ask if you wanted to go together.

A few moments later, the door opened just enough for him to see you standing there, paint smudged on one sleeve.

“Hey,” he said, glancing past you into your room. “You busy?”

You turned slightly, following his gaze back to the canvas on your desk. “Um. Just painting.”

He took that in for a second. It looked like another food painting, if the bowl that was already finished was any indicator. The room itself was a little messy in the way yours always was when you were working, brushes, paper and tubes of paint spread out over your desk.

“Right,” he said, then leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I was gonna go grocery shopping for the week. Do you want to come with me?”

You looked at him like you were actually considering it, which made him wait instead of filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing back into your room before your shoulders shifted and you gave a small nod. “Okay. Give me like twenty minutes to get ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

You disappeared back into your room, and Sunghoon wandered over to the living room. He dropped onto the sofa and pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his TikTok while the apartment stayed quiet around him. Every now and then he glanced toward your room, half expecting to hear you rushing around, but there was only the soft thud of you closing your closet door and then nothing.

When you finally came out, he looked up almost automatically.

For a second he just stared.

Your hair was braided back neatly, the way it usually was, and you were wearing a white dress that fell loosely around you, soft and flowy. 

Sunghoon blinked once and sat up a little straighter. “You always braid your hair.”

You glanced at him, your lips pursed. “Yeah?”

He pushed himself off the sofa and tucked his phone into his pocket. “No, I mean. Always always. I don’t think I’ve seen it open more than like once.”

You shrugged lightly, already reaching for your keys. “I just prefer it that way.”

He hummed as he followed you to the door, though he couldn’t stop looking at the braid. It was neat, simple. “Doesn’t it get annoying to braid every day?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Sunghoon let out a small breath through his nose, stepping out into the hallway after you. “I think you should leave it open; it’s pretty.”

You just hummed, keeping your face turned away from him. He knew there were certain things you didn’t like talking about, shutting down conversations before they could even begin, and apparently your hair was one of them. Sunghoon shook his head as the two of you started down the stairs together. 

It was hot outside, the kind of heat that clung to your skin the second you stepped out of the building, and Sunghoon immediately regretted not waiting until later in the evening.

“It is so stupidly hot,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Why does Seoul have to feel like the inside of an oven in summer?”

You glanced at him, then back ahead. “It’s not that bad.”

He turned to look at you, offended. “What do you mean, not that bad?”

You gave the faintest shrug. “It’s warm.”

“Warm?” he repeated. “This is not warm. This is hostile.”

That got the smallest hint of a smile out of you, and he caught it just long enough to feel mildly satisfied with himself.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The grocery store wasn’t far, but by the time you got there, Sunghoon’s t-shirt was drenched. You walked beside him without complaining once, hands relaxed at your sides, braid resting between your shoulder blades.

The doors to the store opened, and when the two of you stepped inside, Sunghoon sighed in relief, the cold from the AC washing over his body as he got a cart for the two of you. He steered the two of you deeper into the supermarket, one hand resting loosely on the handle while the other occasionally reached out to grab something from the shelves without really stopping.

You stayed beside him, quiet in the way you usually were when you were thinking, eyes moving over the rows of products without lingering anywhere for too long. 

“Wait,” you said, stopping the cart when you passed the oatmeal section. “I think mine are almost done.”

Sunghoon hummed and followed you inside the aisle.

“I was thinking of getting these for the week,” you said, squatting down and grabbing a flashy box. 

He hummed, reaching for it, reading the front of the package when you handed it to him.

It was a white oat, fruits and nuts mix.

“Which one do you usually buy?”

You shrugged. “Just the plain one.”

He made a face when he turned the box around in his hands. “You should get the protein one.”

You looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because it has more energy,” he said, pointing at the nutrition table on the back with a fingertip. “And better ingredients. See?”

He held the package out a little so you could look at it, before grabbing the one brand Wonyoung always raved about. “You said you’ve been feeling tired all the time; maybe you need some more protein. That helped a friend of mine, and she really likes that one.”

You reached forward, and your fingers closed around the cardboard before you turned it around once, then twice,  before nodding and tossing it into the cart.

The two of you continued down the aisle, casually stacking more things into the cart. He kept filling his own side with random food. Rice, vegetables, eggs, protein drinks, a few snacks. 

Your side looked different, a lot more specific. You spent a lot more time deciding between products, pondering the different choices, checking the list on your phone, checking the boxes whenever you added something to the cart.

He glanced at your list at some point and then at you. “Do you shop the same stuff every week?”

You looked up from your phone. “Most of the time, yeah.”

“That sounds boring.”

You gave a small shrug. “It’s not bad. There are a lot of things I can cook with that.”

“You mean loads of things you can drown in gochujang?”

You didn’t answer that, just moved to the next shelf and reached for another bar of dark chocolate. Sunghoon watched you for a second before stepping closer and taking one of the protein bars from the shelf.

“You should get these too,” he said, holding it out. “They’re good.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your hand, scanning the front before flipping it around to the back. You read the label for a second longer this time. 

He watched you drop it towards your side of the cart before you put the dark chocolate back into the shelf. 

The second you stepped into the frozen aisle, you started shivering, wrapping your arms around your body, while you followed him, so Sunghoon just grabbed a few packs of chicken breast off the shelf and dropped them into the cart one after another.

You glanced down at the pile of them, then back at him. “What are you gonna eat that with?”

He looked over his shoulder. “No idea.”

You blinked. “You just eat it plain?”

He gave you a look like that was a stupid question. “Most of the time, yeah.”

That made you hum softly to yourself, more thoughtful than amused, and you reached into the freezer case beside you before he could say anything else. A bag of frozen broccoli went into the cart, then another pack of vegetables, then some carrots.

Sunghoon looked down at what you were adding. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m keeping my end of the deal, and I won’t let you eat plain chicken.” 

He laughed at that, short and warm, and shook his head a little. “You wanna cook for me?”

You glanced at him, already reaching for another bag. “Well, yes. You’re the one paying. I’ll be the one cooking for the both of us. It’s convenient if we don’t get the kitchen dirty multiple times a day.”

That made him laugh again, a little louder this time, and he nodded once. “Fair.”

After a beat, you reached into the freezer again and added another pack of mixed vegetables to his side of the cart. He looked down at it, then at you.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said.

You hummed. “You’re paying.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re enabling my laziness by cooking for me. How am I supposed to learn how to cook?”

“If you only want to cook, feel free. I won’t be stopping you.”

“I never said I don’t want to cook.”

“You did imply it.”

He gave you a long look, then broke into another grin and nodded once. “Okay, maybe I did.”

You were already looking away again, focused on the shelf in front of you, but the corner of his mouth stayed tilted up as he kept pushing the cart.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You left the grocery store with more bags than Sunghoon had expected. He had ended up carrying most of them, insisting you took the smaller bags, ignoring how you complained about him thinking you were weak. Considering you asked him to open bottles sometimes, he was sure you would have handed him the heavy bags anyway. 

The heat outside hit Sunghoon like a wall. He hated it: the warmth, the sweat and the clammy feeling all over his body that came with it. Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shifting the bags higher in his grip.

“God, it’s still disgusting out here,” he muttered.

You only hummed, apparently unaffected in a way that made him feel slightly betrayed by his own body. The two of you were chatting, talking about nothing and everything while walking back to your apartment complex, before you went quiet for a moment. 

“Can we stop by the flower shop?”

He turned his head. “The one you always talk about?”

You nodded. “If it’s okay.”

He shrugged, though the bags in his hands made the movement awkward. “Yeah, sure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bell over the door chimed when the two of you stepped inside. 

It smelled like water, leaves, and something soft he couldn’t quite place. Flowers lined the narrow room in neat clusters, some already wrapped and waiting near the counter, others still standing in buckets along the floor and tables.

The woman behind the counter looked up immediately and smiled when she saw you. “Y/N,” she said warmly, “what a lovely surprise.”

You brightened a little, your face easing in a way Sunghoon had never seen before. It was pretty. 

“Hi.”

She came around the counter, hands wiping briefly against her apron before she reached for one of the buckets near the front. “You haven’t been here in a while. I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Work has been a bit much,” you admitted, shifting the bag in your arms.

The woman made a sympathetic noise and then glanced toward Sunghoon, her eyebrows raised, as she looked back towards you. "And who is this?”

You turned slightly. “Oh, this is Sunghoon. He’s my roommate.”

Sunghoon gave her a polite little bow, suddenly feeling nervous about making a bad impression. You and the lady seemed close. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

Her expression softened instantly, as if the bow had been the correct answer to some invisible test. “Roommate,” she repeated, then looked at you again with a knowing sort of smile. “So you do have company at home now.”

You blinked at her, and Sunghoon noticed the red creeping up your neck. “Ajumma.”

She ignored that completely and waved a hand at the flowers. “Come, come. Let me show you what I have today.”

You followed her deeper into the shop, Sunghoon trailing after you a little awkwardly with the grocery bags still in hand. The woman moved around the buckets, looking for something specific, before lifting out flowers one by one and holding them toward you.

“These are lovely today,” she said, showing you a handful of blooms with pale petals that were slightly open already. “Not the freshest ones, but the shape is still very nice.”

Sunghoon frowned a little as he watched you take them in your hands and turn them gently from side to side. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected you to reach for the brightest, newest ones. Instead, your attention seemed to settle on the flowers that looked a little less perfect, the ones with petals that had started to curl at the edges or lean slightly to one side.

"Why not buy fresh ones today, my child?" She asked, handing you another battered-looking one. "I got some beautiful tulips just this morning."

You looked up at that, then smiled a little sheepishly. “I think they’re also pretty.”

The woman shook her head fondly. “You and your strange taste."

You adjusted the flowers in your hands and gave a small shrug. “I like the ones that no one else would pick; you would throw them out anyway. And even if they just live for a day in my kitchen, at least they got some love, Ajumma. I'm sure someone will buy the tulips.”

The woman’s expression softened at that, and for a moment she just looked at you with more love and care in her eyes than a stranger should have for their customer. Then she let out a quiet hum and started wrapping the stems in paper.

You smiled, small and pleased, and Sunghoon had the strange feeling that he was seeing a piece of you that didn’t usually show itself anywhere else. Not at the apartment, not at the store, not when you were quietly making tea or sitting beside him on the sofa. 

The woman finished tying the bouquet and pressed it into your hands with the kind of care that felt almost maternal. “There. These suit you better than the tulips would anyway.”

You looked down at the flowers, then up at her with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said immediately, as if the thanks were unnecessary. “And don’t wait so long before coming again. Your face looks tired.”

“Ajumma,” you said again, but this time it was gentler.

She only waved you off. “Go home, eat properly, and come back soon."

“I will,” you promised.

Then the two of you stepped back outside, the flowers held carefully against your chest while Sunghoon adjusted the grocery bags again. You glanced down at the bouquet, then up at him, and there was a small smile pulling at your mouth.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon had just finished mixing his protein shake when he heard keys jingle and the front door swing open.

He frowned, setting the shaker bottle down. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. It wasn’t even 4 p.m. Had your class ended early? 

Still, he greeted you out of habit. “Hey, Y/N–”

But the person standing in the doorway was definitely not you.

Sunghoon froze. The guy in the doorway froze, too.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, equally confused.

Sunghoon slowly lowered his shaker bottle. Who the hell–

“Uh…” the guy started, blinking a few times like he was trying to process the situation. Then, he pointed at Sunghoon. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No,” Sunghoon said flatly. “I’m not.”

The guy frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Then… who are you?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “I live here. Who are you?”

The guy’s face shifted as realisation dawned on him. His confusion melted into something amused.

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. Then, he grinned and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m Donghyuck. Nice to meet you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait.

Donghyuck, as in your boyfriend Donghyuck?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward the fridge before he could stop himself. The slightly curled postcard from Busan hung beside a few photos he had found himself staring at more than once in the past month. Donghyuck was in a lot of them. Always close to you, arms slung around your shoulders, laughing together.

Sunghoon quickly cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. I’m Sunghoon.”

Donghyuck hummed, already toeing off his sneakers. “Is Y/N still at class?” He dropped his bag by the door and strolled toward the kitchen.

Sunghoon, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, hesitated before answering. “Uh… yeah? She usually gets home around 4:30. Sometimes a bit earlier.”

Donghyuck nodded, completely unfazed. “Alright, cool.”

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he reached into a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Sunghoon nearly choked on air.

“What?” He spun around so fast that he nearly knocked over his protein shake.

Donghyuck just shrugged, sipping his water like this was a completely normal conversation. “Y/N didn’t tell me she was seeing someone. Or, well… seeing someone seriously enough to let him move in with her.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. What. The. Hell.

“I hope it’s been at least half a year and you didn’t just sweet-talk her into letting you move in after, like, two months.” Donghyuck narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why–why would I be Y/N’s boyfriend?” Sunghoon blurted.

Isn’t Donghyuck the boyfriend?! What was happening?

The other gave him a look. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just said you live here.”

“Yeah, because I’m her roommate,” Sunghoon said, still trying to process this conversation. “I pay rent and shit to be here.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Wait. You’re her roommate?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gestured vaguely at the apartment. “What else would I be?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, considering. Then he shrugged. “I dunno, her boyfriend?”

Sunghoon let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Dude, I thought you were her boyfriend.”

Donghyuck burst out laughing.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, nah.” He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m her brother.”

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Brother.

Oh. Okay.

Now that he really looked, Donghyuck did have similar features to you. 

Your brother just grinned, clearly entertained by the situation. “Damn, you really thought we were dating? Siblings dating seems pretty weird, doesn’t it, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon groaned, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t–”

Donghyuck cackled.

Before Sunghoon could come up with something to say, the front door suddenly swung open again.

“Oh my god,” your voice rang through the apartment, full of surprise and excitement. “Hyuck?!”

Sunghoon turned his head just in time to see you practically launch yourself at your brother. Donghyuck barely had time to put down his glass before you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming! I thought you were still at home!” You grinned up at him, eyes shining.

Donghyuck ruffled your hair like it. “I wanted to surprise you. Taeyong packed you a snack box from home. Mom and Johnny’s Mom added some stuff too. You know, since you can’t come home.”

Your face lit up. “No way.”

Donghyuck smirked. “Way.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, just watched as you glowed with excitement.

But before he could fully process how different you looked right now, so happy, so genuinely overjoyed, Donghyuck turned to you with an easy grin.

“So…” He dragged out the word, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Your expression twisted in confusion. “What?”

Donghyuck jerked his thumb toward Sunghoon. “You didn’t tell me you were dating your roommate.”

You were silent for a beat. 

Then, your entire face went red.

Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you from where he stood.

“What?” you repeated, blinking rapidly.

Donghyuck just smirked, clearly enjoying this. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” He gestured toward Sunghoon, who was just standing there like an idiot.

Your eyes darted towards him like you were expecting him to say something, but Sunghoon’s brain was still buffering.

Because all he could think about was how genuinely happy you had looked when you saw Donghyuck.

So expressive. So open.

The way your face had lit up, the way your voice had lifted into something bright and completely unfiltered. It was cute. And, selfishly, Sunghoon wondered why.

Why did you always hold back a little around him? The small, bashful smiles, the careful responses. Was he that intimidating? He was trying so hard to get to know you, to be a good roommate who would turn into a friend. 

“We’re not dating.” Sunghoon finally managed, his voice a little more rushed than intended. “I’m just her roommate.”

You exhaled, pressing your hands to your very red cheeks. “Yes. He’s my roommate.”

Donghyuck raised a brow, clearly not convinced.

“Right,” he said slowly, crossing his arms. “So you just let random guys move in with you now?”

“I didn’t–it’s not–,” You groaned. “It’s a long story.”

Sunghoon, for some reason, felt the need to defend himself. “It’s not weird, okay? We barely even knew each other when I moved in. You don’t have to worry about us dating or anything.”

Donghyuck snorted. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. 

You groaned again, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Mr Kang is renting the second room to Sunghoon.”

“No way. Your studio?” Donghyuck asked and looked at Sunghoon as if he had personally had the intention to steal your studio from you. 

“Yeah. It’s all right, though. I always knew he could rent it out to someone who will show up,” you leaned against the counter next to Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck was still looking at Sunghoon, but his facial expression had changed from accusation to something that looked like interest.

“Anyway,” he said, focusing back on you, “Do you wanna open the package? I am praying that Johnny put in some of those dope cookies from the bakery under his office. If he did, I am claiming one-half.”

At that, your face brightened again, and Sunghoon caught himself watching the shift in your expression again. 

The way your eyes widened, the slight bounce in your stance, the way you leaned in just a little closer to Donghyuck.

Your brother unzipped the bag and pulled out a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it on the counter with a slight thud.

Your hands were already on the tape, peeling it open. “You had four weeks to eat the cookies from ppangjib. You get one. Or maybe two."

Donghyuck grinned. “Deal.”

Sunghoon, though still a little confused by the whole situation, couldn’t help but glance into the box as you pulled back the flaps. Inside were neatly packed bags of homemade snacks, a few small wrapped gifts, and a handwritten letter sitting on top.

You immediately grabbed the letter, unfolding it with the kind of excitement that was usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

While you skimmed it, Donghyuck reached into the box and pulled out a small bag of yakgwa, grinning. “Oh, sick. Mom made you some yakgwa.”

“No way.” You grabbed the bag from him, grinning just as wide.

Sunghoon glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen door. 

Shit.

He had to get to training.

With a sigh, he grabbed his shaker bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“I gotta head out.” 

You looked up from the letter. "Oh, right! You have training tonight.”

He nodded, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to eat something later, or will you eat somewhere else?” Your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him, and Sunghoon had to suddenly swallow dryly before being able to answer. 

“I’ll eat with the others, thank you, Y/N." He nodded at your brother. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. Have a nice evening, you two.”

Donghyuck, already chewing on a piece of yakgwa, gave him a lazy salute. “Have fun, man.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh before turning toward the door. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bus stop was already fuller than you had hoped for.

You slowed when you got close, eyes briefly flicking over the small crowd waiting in the rain. Uni had already been enough on its own, and the thought of standing around in the wet for the next ten minutes did not exactly improve your mood.

With a sigh, you lined up behind a girl who was fully immersed in her phone, not looking up even when the line moved forward slightly. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and found Sunghoon a few steps away, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

“Oh,” you said, a little flatly before you could stop yourself. “Hi.”

He gave you a small smile and stepped closer, shielding you from the rain by holding his umbrella over your head. For a second, neither of you said anything.

It was not exactly awkward in a bad way. 

Just quiet. 

Sunghoon glanced at you once before looking back at the road. “You got work later?”

You nodded, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah.”

He hummed. “Do you want me to cook then?”

That made you look at him. “You can if you want to?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ve wanted to try out a dish Wonyoung recommended. She’s been hyping it up for weeks now.”

“Wonyoung?” You asked, trying not to sound too curious. Sunghoon often talked about one of his girl space friends, but this was the first time he had mentioned a name. 

“She’s one of the skaters I train with, and she’s pretty strict about her diet and eating healthy. She’s also the one that recommended the oatmeal I made you buy,” Sunghoon hummed and gave you a small smile. “Yours is empty, right? I’m gonna go grocery shopping before cooking. I could buy you some before you run out?”

“Oh,” you blinked once, a little caught off guard by how normal that sounded now. Apparently that was just what you were doing these days. Just cooking and buying groceries together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you said after a second, and then, a little quieter, “Thanks.”

He only nodded, like it was no big deal.

When the bus finally came, the two of you ended up standing through most of the ride, holding onto the railings and swaying slightly whenever the bus turned. 

By the time your stop came up, you were both more than ready to get off.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet at first, Sunghoon holding his umbrella above both your heads, trying his best to keep you dry. 

After a while, you glanced over at him. “How was your day?”

Sunghoon let out a small, humourless breath through his nose before answering. “Shit, honestly.”

You looked at him a little more closely. “Really?”

He nodded once, jaw tightening slightly. “This whole week’s been shit.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He looked ahead again and shrugged. “Coach is on my ass. Everything feels off. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get back on track for nationals at this point.”

His voice was flatter than usual, but there was frustration under it, thick enough that you could hear it anyway. He sounded genuinely upset, not just annoyed in the dramatic way he sometimes was when he complained about training.

You hesitated for a second, then said, “I’m sure you’ve been doing well.”

That got a quiet laugh out of him, though it did not sound amused. He shook his head slightly and looked over at you. “You haven’t seen me skate.”

You blinked, then shrugged one shoulder. “I know how much you train.”

He gave you a look at that, something tired and a little resigned in it. “Training a lot doesn’t mean I’m doing well.”

You frowned a little, looking down at the pavement as you walked. “Still. You’re probably doing better than you think.”

Sunghoon huffed again, but there was less edge to it now. “You know,” he said casually, “you should come to one of my competitions sometime.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “Your competitions?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slightly. “There you could see me skate properly and then think about if I really am doing better than I think.”

You gave him a little smile. “I’ll think about it. I am sure you’re amazing on the ice, dear roommate.”

That made him smile, too.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The cold had come quickly this year, creeping into your apartment and into your room. 

You had spent your day at uni freezing and had been looking forward to just curling up on the sofa or your bed until you fell asleep. Sunghoon had picked up training for his competition, so it was almost rare that you got to see him during the evenings, but today he had been at home when you opened the front door. 

He was studying at the kitchen table, his hair held up by one of his hair bands and a thick pair of glasses on his nose. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, peeling your boots off your feet with your fingers stiff from the cold. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he gave you a tired look, glancing up from his iPad.

“Don’t you have training today?” Your coat was wet from the rain, so you spread it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry before dropping your bag on top of it. 

Sunghoon sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “They are doing some checks with the building, and we aren’t allowed inside, so no.”

“Oh,” you hummed, moving into the kitchen to heat up some water. “You don’t sound happy about that?” 

He huffed and shrugged. “I wanted to train today. I still feel like shit about not being able to land my combo when I was able to before the summer break. I was off the ice for like two weeks, and it’s just gone.” 

“Because of the break?” 

"Yeah." Sunghoon nodded and watched as you got out your favourite mug. “That happens sometimes and is super annoying. If you lose a jump, you usually need double the time to relearn it again.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to get it again?” 

Sunghoon shrugged again and let his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. “Yeah, it will just take time.” 

You hummed and watched the kettle rattle as it brought the water for your tea to a boil. 

"Y/N", he lifted his head, “a few of my friends want to come over and check out the apartment. Is that fine with you? I know you’ve got work tomorrow, but I promise we’ll keep it down when you want to head to bed.”

You smiled, the question barely making you think. “Oh, that's not a problem, Sunghoon. You live here, too. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from having friends over.” 

He relaxed at your response, the tension in his posture easing as he gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’ll let them know we’ll keep it low-key.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “No worries. You do you.” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Just don’t be too loud around midnight. I haven’t really had parties here, so I don’t know if our neighbours are cool with noise or not?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “You can come hang out later. If you want to. We’re gonna order pizza. I know you don’t do lactose or gluten, but if you want a piece just…you know join us?”

You nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small wave. “Ah. Uhm. Thanks. But I think I’m good. I’ll go to sleep soon anyway.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You did, in fact, not go to sleep soon. 

It was almost eleven, and you were still reading, curled up in your duvet, a low light illuminating the room slightly. Your stomach had started growling a while back, and the more you tried to ignore it, the more urgent your hunger got. 

With a long and annoyed sigh, you kicked the duvet off and begrudgingly put your book away before you stood up from your bed. 

You hesitated for a moment when you reached your door. 

Sunghoon and his friends were in the living room, playing something on the switch Sunghoon had brought with him when he moved in, so you would have to pass by them if you wanted to get to the kitchen.

You were wearing a pair of loose joggers and one of your brother's hoodies that he forgot at your apartment that you never bothered to return, so you were definitely not dressed for guests, let alone Sunghoon’s friends. But your stomach growled again, making you push the handle down and step into the hallway. 

The laughter grew louder the closer you got to the living room. As soon as you entered, four pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

“Oh, hey!” one of them greeted you, giving you a smile, while his car came to a stop. “You must be Y/N.”

“Oh, uh–hi,” you said, your voice coming out slightly too high.

Sunghoon grinned at you. “This is Jay, Heeseung, and Jake,” he said, nodding toward each of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, abandoning his character as well. “Dude, your apartment is so nice,” he said. “Did you decorate it by yourself?”

You blinked. “Uh–what?”

“The apartment,” he repeated, still smiling. “It looks really good.”

“Oh! Um–yeah, I did?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, I just… put some things together. I like interior stuff, so…”

“Man, Sunghoon lucked out,” Jay said, shaking his head. “My first roommate had, like, one folding chair and a mattress on the floor.”

“Hey!?” Heeseung said and turned to Jay, “I was your first roommate?”

“Yeah. And we have been living in our dorm for 3 years now. The only reason why we have a decent apartment now is that your mom insisted on helping decorate it,” Jay deadpanned. “And the main piece of decoration in your room is your keyboard shrine.” 

Jake and Sunghoon snorted while Heeseung tried to defend himself: ”I asked her for help because you wouldn’t stop complaining, you stupid piece of shit.”

“See, I am really happy to have Y/N as my roommate. She has rugs and decorations. And a normal amount of keyboards.” Sunghoon grinned at you. “She is even painting the paintings to fit the vibe of our apartment.” 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. He just grinned.

“Did you paint all of them?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Mostly last summer.”

“Damn,” Jake said, shaking his head. “That’s sick. I can barely draw a stick figure.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you.”

Before you could recover, Sunghoon gestured toward the pizza box. “Are you hungry? We ordered way too much.”

“Oh–no, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I was just going to warm up something from the fridge.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I swear this is so much, and we are all supposed to watch over our diets. You’d be doing a good thing by eating a slice or two,” Jake said before stealing a gummy bear from Jay.

“Maybe just one slice?” You mumbled.

Jake’s smile widened. “Sure, take as many as you want.”

He slid a plate toward you, and you shuffled over, still feeling painfully awkward. You perched on the arm of the couch next to Sunghoon, back stiff.

Your roommate glanced up at you, giving you a smile. “Have you finished your book?”

You hummed and took the plate Jake offered you, shaking your head. “Thank you, Jake. Almost? I need like three or four chapters. I’ll definitely finish it today.” 

“So you’re going to read your vampire book?” Sunghoon teased. He had read the back of it and had been making fun of you ever since. 

“No,” you took a bite and swallowed before continuing, watching the TV as they started another round of Mario Kart. “I’ll be waiting until Halloween. I have the morning shift, so I’ll have the whole evening to finish it.” 

“Are you not gonna party on Halloween?” Heeseung asked, not taking his eyes from the TV. 

You frowned, shrugging. “Not really? I’ve not been invited to any parties? And aside from that, I’m not really someone who goes to parties.” 

“You’re just using that as an excuse to stay in bed to read your vampire steamy book, or what did you call it?” Sunghoon teased again, nudging your thigh with his shoulder. “I never thought you’d be one of those girls, Y/N.”

You felt heat rushing up your neck, your cheeks flushing, but before you could defend yourself, Jay already came to your aid. 

ne,” he glanced at Sunghoon and regretted it mere seconds after, driving off the road. “Fuck.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” your roommate grinned.

Your stomach dropped at the words.

It was stupid, really. 

He had only been teasing. 

You knew that, but somehow it felt weird.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the plate, and forced a small laugh through your nose before you looked back at the TV. 

It was suddenly too loud in the room, too warm, too bright. 

You could feel your pulse in your throat, fast and annoying, and every second that passed made you more aware of yourself.

Sunghoon shifted beside you.

He must have noticed the change in your mood, because when you glanced at him for half a second, he was already looking at you. 

Not teasing, just watching. 

His expression softened the moment he saw your face.

You looked away instantly.

No. No, it was fine. It was nothing.

He didn’t say anything right away, but the apology in his eyes was obvious enough that it made your chest tighten worse. He probably realised he had pushed too far.

It was all right. Nothing had happened; he didn’t mean it in a bad way. 

You took another bite of pizza just so you would have something to do with your mouth, but it didn’t help. Not even a little. Your stomach felt weirdly hollow and too full at the same time, and you kept your face angled toward the TV while your entire body screamed at you to get up and leave before you embarrassed yourself any further.

Heeseung glanced between you and Sunghoon, clearly catching something in the air. For a second, the room went a little quieter, the game noises continuing in the background.

Then Heeseung spoke.

“Actually,” he said, a little more carefully now, “do you maybe want to give partying one more try?”

You looked over at him, caught off guard.

His expression was gentle, not pushy. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I mean, instead of spending Halloween alone reading by yourself.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“There’s gonna be a big Halloween party hosted by the swimmers,” Jake said from the floor, spinning his controller between his fingers. “You could come. If you don’t want to go alone, you can bring a friend too. Just tell the guards we invited you; they’ll know.”

You blinked at that. “A friend?”

He nodded. “Sure. If that makes it less weird.”

“Or safer,” Jay added, not looking at you but clearly trying to help in the least aggressive way possible. “Whatever works.”

You glanced down at your plate, your fingers suddenly very aware around the rim. The room was still buzzing with the game, but your pulse had not slowed.

You forced your shoulders to stay loose.

“I don’t know,” you said, and tried very hard for the words to sound normal. “I’m just… not really into parties.”

Jake nodded immediately, as he understood. “That’s fair.”

“But,” Heeseung said, still soft, “you don’t have to be into parties to come to one once.”

You hesitated.

“I haven’t been to one in forever,” you admitted, which was worse than saying no because now it sounded like a confession.

Jake’s face brightened a little, not in a mocking way, more like he had heard a challenge he wanted to win. “Then it’s definitely time.”

“No pressure,” Heeseung added quickly when you didn’t answer right away. “Seriously. But if you want to try it, we’ll look out for you.”

Jake leaned back and grinned at you. “Think about it, yeah?”

You nodded once.

Heeseung smiled, gentler than before. “And seriously, you can bring a friend if you want. No pressure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Except that it was pressure, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. 

So the next day, Jaemin immediately noticed that something was off the second you clocked in. “Okay, spill.”

You frowned, wrapping your apron around your waist. “What?”

“You look weird. A bit constipated. What are you thinking so deeply about? 

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s nothing.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

You exhaled, already knowing you weren’t going to get away with it. “Sunghoon’s friends came over last night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The hockey players?”

You blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”

At the same time, you weren’t really surprised. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything and everyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly.

“Just a gut feeling", he grinned. “Tell me more.”

You sighed, opening the door towards the main room of the cinema. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just came over to see the apartment and hang out with Sunghoon. I ran into them when I went to the kitchen.”

“And?” Jaemin prompted, eyes gleaming with interest. 

“And… they were nice,” you admitted. “They complimented the apartment and–” you hesitated, then added reluctantly, “my paintings.”

Jaemin gasped dramatically. “The beautiful paintings that are all over your apartment that everyone compliments? No way!”

You rolled your eyes. “Jaemin.”

“What? Am I lying?” he shrugged, grinning at you.

You groaned, covering your face. “Can you leave me alone?”

Jaemin cackled. “No.”

You shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. In fact, you love me enough to schedule your shift so they’d clash with mine and we have even more time to hang out," he said, waving a hand. “So what happened afterwards? Just meeting them wouldn’t make you this thoughtful.”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “They… invited me to their Halloween party.”

Jaemin froze.

His expression went from shocked to utterly gobsmacked in less than a second. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Wait, like, the swimmers' Halloween party?”

“I think?”

He gawked at you. “You think? Y/N, do you even realise how exclusive those are?” He leaned in. “You have to know people to get in or be important enough to be invited.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… I know people now?”

Jaemin smacked your arm lightly. “Oh my god, this is huge.”

“It’s really not. They even offered that I could bring a friend.”

“Oh, my god.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have to take me with you.”

You groaned. “Jaemin–”

“Please.” His eyes widened. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’d be insane not to go.”

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know… I feel like I’d just be awkward.”

Jaemin softened slightly. “You might. But you might also have fun.”

You sighed.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you,” he promised. “I swear.”

You hesitated before finally mumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear. We’re going,” he said, gripping your wrist.

You groaned. “Jaemin.”

“Please.” His eyes widened dramatically. “Do you even understand what this means? This is like–like being invited to the Met Gala of frat parties.”

You gave him a look. “You are so dramatic.”

“Am I?” He scoffed. “Y/N, do you realise how hard it is to get into one of these? And you got invited. You!” He clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped. “Not that big of a deal? Y/N, if I had even breathed in the direction of these parties before, I would’ve been escorted out.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If not even Jaemin had been invited to one of these parties, they probably were a big thing. Johnny was always talking about how he enjoyed going to parties. You loved hearing his and Taeyong's stories every time they came home. 

They did romanticise uni life a bit in your opinion. 

Or maybe you were just doing something wrong. 

Maybe you could try going to that party.  

Jaemin's face softened slightly. “Look,” he said, “I get it. Big parties aren’t your thing. And, yeah, it might be overwhelming at first. But, Y/N, you deserve to have fun.”

“I do have fun,” you muttered.

Jaemin gave you a knowing look. “Working, studying, and just being in your apartment alone all the time doesn’t count.”

You sighed.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he promised. “I swear. I won’t ditch you. But at least try.”

You hesitated, staring at the counter, before finally mumbling, “…Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin grinned as he had already won. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Pushing open the door to your apartment felt like trying to push an elephant out of the way. Your arms were heavy, your brain was pulsing against your skull, and your eyes threatened to fall closed any second now. Somehow your shift at the cinema had been horrible today; it had been loud and hot and entirely overwhelming, so the only thing you wanted to do was to sleep.

But today was Halloween, and you had promised Jaemin and Sunghoon you would go to that stupid party. 

Part of you, a very loud and insistent part of you, wanted to just cancel, tell them that you were too exhausted to go, that you were having a migraine, but another part wanted to go, almost desperately. 

You knew they were right, Johnny, Taeyong, Jaemin, hell, even Sunghoon and his friends. You should try going out more, living life, meeting people, and experiencing things you would usually avoid; it was part of growing up, of living. 

But it was hard. You hated crowds, you hated parties, and you hated being perceived, and that Halloween party would definitely get you to be perceived, especially with your stupid costume.

Somehow Sunghoon and Jaemin, who had almost immediately started forming a coalition against you as soon as you introduced them, convinced you to dress up as one of the puppets from Squid Game. 

With a sigh, you peeled off your shoes and made a beeline straight to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, hoping you would feel better after a nap.

About two hours later, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed. Your head was still heavy, a constant throb beneath your temples. 

You could feel your nerves creeping up as you walked out of your room, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sunghoon.” 

Your roommate was standing in the bathroom, the door open, as he styled his hair in the mirror. 

He flinched at your voice, and his eyes flickered to your figure standing in the doorway. “Hi, Y/N. Are you good? You look tired.”

You hummed, leaning against the wooden frame. “My head is pounding. I think I have a migraine coming.”

Sunghon frowned, turning around to look at you properly. “Do you want to eat? Maybe it will get better if you get some food into your system."

“I’ve eaten,” you said, pursing your lips and shrugging. “Jaemin and I ate bibimbap during our lunch break, so my stomach is still pretty full, but I think I’ll take an ibuprofen. Sometimes it helps with the migraines.”

“It has been a while since you had your last one," Sunghoon stated, pushing away from the sink, moving towards and past you into the hallway. “Do you think you’ll be able to go to the party? If you’re not feeling well, you should stay home, Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I'll just leave earlier?”

"Sure, that’s no worries." He moved towards his room before coming back, holding up white face paint. You smiled, though it was still a little tight around the edges. Sunghoon caught your glance and, after a moment of silence, his expression softened into something more reassuring. 

“Come on, it’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll get there, and we’ll just hang out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

You gave a reluctant nod, grateful for his words. You stretched out, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The moment you stepped into the house, the overwhelming mix of loud music, sweaty bodies, and flashing lights hit you all at once. The air smelled like alcohol, something vaguely fruity, and whatever cologne the guy who just stumbled past you had drenched himself in.

You were already regretting this.

You had been holding it together on the walk over, but now that you were actually inside, the migraine that had been sitting at the edge of your skull all evening seemed to sharpen all at once. The lights flashing across the room made your eyes sting, and the noise in your ears felt like it was pressing in from every direction.

Sunghoon was right beside you, guiding you deeper into the house with a hand hovering near your back so you didn’t lose him in the crowd. You kept your arms close to your body and did your best not to brush against anyone.

Before you could fully orient yourself, a voice cut through the music.

“Y/N!”

You barely had time to turn before Jake came crashing into you, arms thrown around your middle in a hug that was far too enthusiastic for your current state. You froze immediately.

Everything in you tensed.

Your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides while he rocked you a little, laughing into your shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he slurred happily. “I knew you’d come! I told Sunghoon you were gonna come!”

You stared past him, looking for Sunghoon without even meaning to.

He was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a grin that was way too amused. You glared at him in silent betrayal.

He only smiled wider.

Hesitantly, you lifted one hand and gave Jake a few awkward pats on the back. He seemed delighted by that and finally let go.

Jay appeared a second later. He didn’t tackle you, thankfully. He just gave you a quick half-hug.

“Glad you came,” he said, easy and warm.

You managed a small nod.

“Uh. Yeah,” you said faintly. “Thanks.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon was leaning against the sofa, half-listening to Jay argue with Jake about their next beer pong shot. His own cup sat untouched beside him. 

He was pacing himself, knowing he had practice tomorrow. 

His coach was already on him for falling last week, so he didn’t want to even try his luck and skate hungover. The music thumped through the house, bass vibrating beneath his feet, and the heat of too many bodies in a small space was starting to get to him.

If he was completely honest, parties weren’t his thing either. Sure, he’d come along if he got invited, and it was fun most of the time, but he wasn’t as crazy as his friends. He didn’t understand how the hockey players were doing all of this after every game; his coach would kill him if he knew Sunghoon was drinking.

Sunghoon glanced over the table, watching you and Jaemin talk to a small group of baseball players. 

He knew some of them from other parties or sports events but never really got around to getting to know any of them closely. 

He watched as one of them, a little taller than the rest, leaned in slightly while talking to you.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure why, but something about it made his jaw tighten as he saw you taking a slight step back, your smile reverting back to the small, reserved ones you always had when you were uncomfortable or felt especially shy. 

He hadn’t seen that in quite a while now, but it hadn’t left your face all evening.

The way you moved and glanced around made it clear that you weren’t too happy with the situation, and Sunghoon felt guilty. He knew he should have convinced you to stay at home when he saw you step out of your room, your face pale and your hair flattened from your nap. He knew you wouldn’t like being here, and he was sure the sound and the stuffy air inside the house weren’t helping your migraine get any better.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, setting his cup down on the beerping table with a soft thud. He didn’t know if he was overthinking things, but he did promise you to help you out if you needed an out. So he slowly started making his way toward you. Sunghoon had barely taken a step toward you when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Park,” a familiar voice drawled.

He turned to see Hyunjin, one of the more senior skaters. Despite the loud music and chaotic energy of the party, Hyunjin looked as relaxed as ever, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Haven’t seen you drink much,” Hyunjin noted, tilting his own half-empty cup toward Sunghoon. “You’re really out here being responsible?”

Sunghoon snorted. “Some of us have practice tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head. “Well, some were clever enough to tell Coach that they wouldn’t come tomorrow so they can drink.”

Sunghoon hummed in agreement, but his attention was already elsewhere. You seemed to suddenly have let loose, your shoulders sagging as you giggled, you giggled, at something the baseball player said. In the one and a half months that he had been living together with you, he never saw you giggle; laugh, sure, but giggle, never. 

He shifted his weight, keeping one ear on whatever Hyunjin was saying while his eyes flickered back to you.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of Sunghoon’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

Sunghoon blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Sunghoon‘s eyes flickered back to you. „Yeah,“ he started, moving, patting Hyunjin's shoulder. „You know what, I’ll be back in a second.“

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The music thudded in your chest, vibrating through your bones. Your head was pounding, your vision blurry, and there was a weird, giddy sensation bubbling up in you.

 You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying, and you couldn’t grasp a clear thought; everything felt mulled over. It wasn’t unusual for you to get a migraine, especially with the noise and lights in a place like this, but this was different. It felt like your mouth was moving without you even thinking about it when you were answering whatever question Injang just asked.

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for tomorrow? You know there’s an after-Halloween party for those who couldn’t come today,” he grinned at you, leaning in slightly, his voice a little too loud to make it easy to follow.

You could feel his eyes on you, more intent than necessary. “Um. I have to–I have to study? I can’t party.”

“Oh really? Jaemin mentioned you’re into architecture? It’s probably really hard. Especially for a pretty girl like you, right?" He said, his grin widening. 

You nodded, and the room tilted for a second. 

You blinked hard. 

That wasn’t normal. Your migraines were awful, but they didn’t usually make your body feel this heavy.

“I–I don’t know, maybe?” you replied, your voice trailing off.

„Oh, but I‘m sure you‘re doing a good job, sweetheart.“ 

Somewhere in the back of your brain, you registered the condescending tone he was using, that he was making fun of you, but somehow your thoughts felt detached from everything else. 

They were slow, fuzzy, and your vision started to swim a little as you tried your best to stay nice and polite and look at Injang while he was talking to you. 

Maybe you should have eaten more or drunk more water. 

“Hey, Y/N, you’re okay? You seemed a little drunk." he was suddenly standing closer to you, the heat radiating from his body making your body feel even more uncomfortable. 

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze in your brain, but instead, the dizziness swirled, and the world started spinning around you.

“I... I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t even sure you believed it. Your words were slurred, and your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to shake your head. 

You couldn’t understand what was happening; the only thing you had been drinking all day was water. Why did you feel drunk all of a sudden? 

Injang kept leaning in, his hand brushing a few strands that came loose from the ponytail you had tied your hair in behind your ear, his smirk growing wider. You tried to focus on him, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure in your skull and the odd sense of lightness in your limbs.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to drink some more of your water? I’m sure it will help," he asked again, leaning even closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. His voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. 

“I... yeah,” your hands almost automatically guided your cup to your mouth; maybe he was right, and water would help. “I’m just–I’m just a little tired, y’know? I think–I think I should go to my roommate?” 

You glanced towards where you knew Sunghoon was standing, not seeing anything besides the stobling lights flickering over your blurry vision. Your legs felt unsteady, as though they weren’t entirely yours, when you tried to push past the baseball player. 

You could hardly keep your balance, and the noise became so much louder, as if it were vibrating inside your skull. You placed a hand on the wall for support, just trying to stay on your feet. 

The room was spinning, and you tried to focus, to remember where the kitchen was, where you were, but it felt like you had to move through molasses. 

Injang's hands were on you again, and this time it wasn’t just a touch. He was almost painfully gripping your waist, pulling you back. You tried to tug away, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, alright? Just let me get you outside; I’m sure some fresh air would help.” Injang’s voice was thick now, too close for comfort. 

His touch sent panic through you.

You couldn’t go outside with him; you shouldn’t. Everything felt wrong.

You knew you needed to get away from him, but every part of you felt so heavy, and your movements weren’t your own. 

You were trapped in this slow, sluggish fog.

"Seriously, Y/N, you're so cute," he continued, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his body at your back. "I’m just worried about you. You sure you’re not feeling anything... weird?" 

You flinched, trying to pull away, but he kept his grip, his fingers brushing down to your waist in a way that made you feel exposed and uncomfortable. “Come on baby, don't be shy. It's just a party. We’re just having fun, right?”

You tried again to shake him off, to get awy, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate.

Noise drung through he fog, it semed like someone was fighting, but you weren’t sure. They were muffled and you couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

The next thing you knew, there was a quick movement and Injang’s hand left your waist. 

Without his additional support, your knees buckled underneath your weight and the world tilted, before everything went black. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The second you collapsed, it was like time stopped. 

Sunghoon watched how Injang let go of your body, trying to defend himself, saying something about wanting to get you some water. He watched the way you swayed and, finally, how your knees seemed to give up underneath your weight. 

He barely managed to catch you in time, feeling the weight of your body press into him as you fell limp in his arms. His heart slammed in his chest. 

"Y/N?" He shook you gently, then a bit harder when you didn’t respond. 

You felt like a rag doll, no resistance in your body as he went down to the floor, still trying to shake you awake. “Y/N, what’s going on? Wake up!”

Jaemin was suddenly kneeling next to him, helping him hold you up, keeping your head straight. 

“Oh my god," he gasped, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. 

His eyes flickered between Sunghoon and you.

"What happened to her? What's wrong with her?" Jaemin’s voice was panicked. His gaze darted between your pale face and Sunghoon’s frantic movements. 

Sunghoon's mind raced as he tried to figure out what could have happened. “She had–”, he combed his hair back in a frantic movement with one hand. "She said she’s having a migraine. She took some painkillers. Has she been drinking?” Sunghoon's eyes flickered towards Jaemin's face, still holding your body in his arms. “Has she been drinking, Jaemin?” 

Jaemin shook his head, the panic in his face evident. “She didn’t. She only had water. There was nothing–we didn’t even do shots or anything. I–what's happening, Sunghoon? Has she been spiked? That has to be what's happened, right? She’s been spiked.” 

Sunghoon looked around the room, eyes searching for the guy who had been sticking so damn close to you earlier. His hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Call 911,” Sunghoon mumbled before repeating it louder. “Call 911!”

“Jay’s on it, Sunghoon,” Jake’s voice came from behind him. He hadn’t even realised that Jay and Jake had followed him and were now standing behind him, his sole focus on you. “They said help is on the way.”

Sunghoon barely heard him.

All he could focus on was how limp you felt in his arms, how wrong it was that your body had gone so still so fast. He shifted you more carefully against him, his heart slamming so hard it made everything else feel distant and blurry. “Y/N,” he said again, lower this time, as he could somehow pull you back with his voice alone. “Come on. Wake up.”

You didn’t move.

“Where is that guy?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. He couldn’t let that guy go; it had to have been him. You had nursed one cup of water Sunghoon had personally given you, and that guy had been dancing around you all evening. It had to have been him. 

“Jake, Jake, get that guy.” Sunghoon carefully moved your body, cradling you against his chest as he slowly stood up. “He can’t leave, do whatever is necessary. You’re a hockey player, you know how to throw punches.”

His friend looked between him and wherever the guy from just now had escaped towards. “I can’t just–”

“Yes, you can,” Sunghoon cut in, sharper now, eyes wild. “Do whatever you need to do to keep him there. He does not get to walk out.”

Jake opened his mouth again, then shut it when he saw the look on Sunghoon’s face. “Sunghoon–”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon said, more to keep himself from losing it than to silence Jake. “We have to keep him here until the police get him.”

He looked up at Jake again, anger and fear mixing into something almost unbearable. “Don’t let him go,” he repeated, voice rough. “If he moves, stop him.”

Jake’s expression tightened. “Let’s get Y/N out of here first. We’ll deal with Injang later, Sunghoon.”

“No. Get him now.”

That came out harsher than Sunghoon meant it to, but he didn’t know what to do if he escaped. His skin felt too hot, his pulse too fast, his hands shaking where they held you.

Jake stepped closer, one hand raised in a placating gesture. “Sunghoon, listen to me. Let’s get Y/N outside, let’s wait outside for the ambulance to come. We have enough witnesses to get Injang in trouble, okay?”

“What if he gets rid of the evidence?” Sunghoon shot back, eyes darting over the room again, searching for the guy who had been too close, too hands-on, too wrong. “He doesn’t get to do this and walk away as if nothing happened.”

“Sunghoon,” Jaemin said carefully, trying to get his attention, “we need to focus on Y/N right now.”

“I am focused on her.”

“No, you’re not! You’re focused on beating Injang senseless. Get her out of here.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe once, then twice, but it did almost nothing. His chest was too tight, his hands were still shaking.

Then Jay appeared at the edge of the room, pushing through the crowd. “Ambulance is here,” he said quickly.

For a second, Sunghoon didn’t move.

Then his head snapped up. “Police?”

“On their way,” Jay said, voice clipped. “Let’s get Y/N outside.”

That finally broke through some of the haze. Sunghoon looked down at you again, still cradling you tightly, and his expression changed from furious to wrecked in the space of a breath. “Okay,” he said, though it sounded more like he was telling himself than anyone else. “Okay.”

He tightened his hold on you just a little and bent his head closer. “You’re okay,” he said, though it sounded like a promise he was trying to make true by force. “Help’s here. Just stay with me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon sat in the back of the taxi, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind was racing while his pulse was hammering in his ears as the city lights blurred past the window. His body moved on autopilot when the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hospital. He couldn't get the image of you collapsing out of his head, the way you crumpled to the floor, lifeless in his arms. He insisted on coming to the hospital but wanted Jaemin to be with you in the ambulance, just in case you woke up. 

The chances were low, but he didn’t want you to be with him. 

You barely knew each other. 

You did, technically, he would say; you’ve grown to be something like friends, but he was sure Jaemin was the better, the safer choice for you. 

He barely remembered paying the driver before rushing inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright fluorescent lights making his head pound.

The waiting area was quiet except for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional murmur of nurses. It didn't take much of an effort to find Jaemin.

He was curled up in one of the plastic chairs, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and when he looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were bloodshot.

Sunghoon hesitated before stepping closer. "Any news?"

Jaemin shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. His voice was hoarse. "She's stable, but she's not awake. They said they would send some of her blood to get checked for drugs." His breath hitched slightly. "But it’s gonna take a while until they get the results."

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the waiting room swung open, and Donghyuck rushed in, wearing a vampire costume, his hair swept by the wind and the blood that belonged to the costume smeared across his lower face. 

His face was full of panic, darting from Jaemin to Sunghoon and back. "Where is she?"

Jaemin gestured toward the hallway leading to the ICU. "They're doing tests."

“Is she going to be okay? What did they say, Jaemin? Will she be okay?” Your brother shook Jaemin’s shoulders frantically.

Jaemin nodded, wrapping his hands around your brother’s arms. “She’ll be okay, Hyuck.”

A sob escaped your brother's lips, and he wrapped his arms around Jaemin, deflating against him, as a sob wracked through his body. 

Sunghoon had to avert his gaze for a second. 

He had never felt so helpless as when he was holding your lifeless body at that party, handing you over to the paramedic, watching you get loaded into the ambulance. 

He knew he probably should stay composed, stay focused, but he felt panic run through his veins, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. 

 "I don't know what happened, Donghyuck,” Jaemin's voice was shaking as he was pressing Donghyuck against his chest. “She was fine. We were just hanging out, talking to some of the baseball guys I know, and then she… she just collapsed. She was just drinking water. She didn’t drink any–any alcohol."

Donghyuck shook his head, pushing himself away from your friend, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's okay, Jaemin, it's not your fault that this happened." 

A nurse approached them, and the attention of all three of the men snapped towards her. "Mr Lee?" 

"Yes," Donghyuck straightened up immediately.

“The doctors had a few additional questions regarding Y/N,” she said gently. “Have you spent the day with her? Would you know her condition before she fainted?” 

Donghyuck blinked at her, still breathing hard from crying, before he shook his head. "I didn't see her today."

The nurse glanced at Sunghoon and Jaemin. "What about either of you?"

“She’s had a migraine since this morning," Sunghoon cleared his throat. “She took painkillers earlier.”

The nurse’s gaze flicked toward him. “Do you know which painkillers?”

Sunghoon shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

The nurse hummed and made a note. “Did she eat anything with them? Any food or drink?”

“I don’t think so,” he frowned, trying to remember. "I don't think she ate dinner. She said she wasn't hungry because of the headache."

“Did she eat anything besides that?” The woman looked between the two of them

Jaemin straightened from his chair, rubbing at one of his eyes before answering. “Yeah. We had lunch at work, and she had snacks later too.”

“What did the two of you eat?” The woman looked at Jaemin expectantly. “Are you feeling unwell as well?”

“No? No, no, I’m okay, maybe a bit tipsy but like nothing besides that.” He went through his hair, bunching the pink strands together. “We ate bibimbap and mandu for lunch at like three pm.”

"Did she drink any alcohol?"

"No." Sunghoon’s answer came instantly, almost interrupting the nurse. "She only drank water."

"Any recreational drugs? Prescription medication besides the migraine tablets?"

"No."

The nurse looked between them all for a moment, then her eyes settled on Donghyuck again. “Mr Lee, would you like to come in and see her?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Darkness. That was the first thing you noticed. Heavy, suffocating darkness clung to you like a thick fog, making it impossible to think, impossible to move. Then came the sound. Distant at first, like you were hearing everything from underwater. A rhythmic beeping. The faint hum of voices. Rubber soles moving across the floor. You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, and a noise escaped your lips. The footsteps stopped. “Y/N?” You forced your eyes open. Harsh white light flooded your vision, sending a sharp pain through your skull. You squeezed them shut again with a faint whimper. “That’s okay,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Take your time. You’re safe.” Something shifted beside you, followed by the quiet click of a switch. The light behind your eyelids softened. You tried again. This time, you managed to keep your eyes open, although everything remained blurred around the edges. A woman in dark blue scrubs stood beside the bed, one hand resting near the monitor to your left. “Can you hear me?” You gave the smallest nod, blinking at her. “Good. My name is Mina. I’m one of the nurses looking after you.” She leaned slightly closer. “Can you tell me your name?” Your lips felt dry and strangely numb when you answered. “Y/N L/N.” “And do you know where you are?” Your gaze drifted around the space. You noticed a pale curtain surrounding the bed you were lying on, thin wires disappearing beneath the blanket covering you, tape against the inside of your arm, holding an IV line in place. “Hospital,” you whispered. “That’s right.” The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for the blood-pressure cuff around your arm. “Do you know what day it is?” You stared at her, swallowing dryly when you realised you didn’t. You didn’t know what day it was. The question should have been easy, but your thoughts scattered the moment you reached for an answer. You remembered getting dressed. Sunghoon standing in the bathroom with white paint smeared across his face. The heat inside the party. Flashing lights. After that, there was only a blank stretch of nothing. Your answer came out as a whisper, as your throat tightened. “I don’t know.” “That’s okay.” Her voice remained gentle. “Do you remember what happened tonight?” You swallowed, your throat aching with the movement. “I went to a party.” “Anything after that?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to push through the fog. You remembered music, someone talking to you, the room tilting beneath your feet. Then nothing. “No.” The nurse checked the monitor, then shone a small light briefly across each of your pupils. “Are you in pain?” “My head.” Your voice barely carried over the insistent beeping. “It hurts.” “On a scale from zero to ten?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gauge how painful the throbbing was, ignoring the feeling of panic flaring up in your chest. “Seven. Maybe. I get these migraines sometimes.” “And do you feel nauseous?” “A little.” She nodded and made a note on the chart beside the bed. “You were brought in after losing consciousness at a party. Your friends called an ambulance. Your vital signs are stable now, but you were very difficult to wake when you arrived, so we’ve been monitoring you closely.”

Your fingers tightened weakly around the blanket. “Why?” “We’re still waiting for some of the laboratory results,” she explained, smiling gently at you. “The doctors are concerned that you may have been given something without your knowledge. One of them will speak with you now that you’re awake.” Your stomach tightened. Before you could ask anything else, the curtain shifted, and a doctor stepped inside. He introduced himself, then repeated several of the nurse’s questions. Your name. Where you were. What you remembered. Whether you had consumed alcohol or taken any medication. “I took ibuprofen,” you murmured. “For a migraine.” “Anything else?” You shook your head carefully. “Did you drink alcohol tonight?” You blinked, trying your best to remember anything from the day before. “I…I don’t remember.” The doctor nodded, his expression serious but not alarmed. “Your initial blood work is reassuring. Your blood sugar and electrolyte levels are stable, and there are no immediate signs of a serious injury. We’re still waiting for the toxicology results, so I can’t tell you exactly what caused the loss of consciousness yet.” You stared at him, trying to follow every word despite the fog pressing against your thoughts. “Was I drugged?” “It’s a possibility,” he said carefully. “Your symptoms and the account provided by your friends are concerning for that, but we need the laboratory results before we can be more certain.” Your stomach twisted violently. You’ve gotten drugged. You went to that stupid party, and someone had mixed something into your water. You blinked at the doctor, your brain feeling weirdly blank all of a sudden. You’ve gotten drugged. “Your brother is waiting outside,” the nurse added softly. “Would you like us to bring him in?” Donghyuck. The thought of him sitting somewhere beyond the curtain made something inside you loosen and tighten at the same time. You nodded. The nurse disappeared through the curtain. A few moments later, hurried footsteps approached, slowing only when Donghyuck stepped into view. He was wearing part of a vampire costume. His dark shirt was wrinkled, and the fake blood around his mouth had smeared across one cheek. His eyes were swollen and red. The sight of him made your chest ache. “Hey,” he breathed. He crossed the space between you in two steps and reached for your hand, holding it carefully between both of his. “Hey, Bug.” You stared at him. “What happened?” His expression crumpled for half a second before he forced it back under control. “You collapsed at the party.” His thumbs moved nervously over your knuckles. “Jaemin came with you in the ambulance. They think someone put something in your drink.” Your stomach twisted. “My water?” “We don’t know yet.” The room felt strangely distant again. The monitor continued beeping beside you, steady and indifferent. Someone had put something in your water. You pulled in a shallow breath. “Where’s Jaemin?” “He’s outside.” Donghyuck glanced toward the curtain. “Sunghoon too. They’ve both been here the whole time.” “Can they come in?” Donghyuck studied your face for a moment. “Are you sure?” You nodded. He squeezed your hand before stepping out to speak with the nurse. A few minutes passed before the curtain opened again. Jaemin entered first.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and the moment he saw you awake, his hand flew to his mouth. He crossed the room quickly but stopped beside the bed as though he was afraid to touch you without permission. “Oh, my God.” You gave him a weak smile. “Hi.” His face twisted, and tears filled his eyes almost immediately. Behind him, Sunghoon stepped through the opening in the curtain. Most of his costume was gone, but traces of dark makeup remained around his eyes. His hair was dishevelled, and his face looked drained of everything except exhaustion. He stayed near the end of the bed rather than approaching. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. You looked at him, searching through the missing pieces of the night. “You caught me.” It came out more like a question than a statement. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” his voice was rough. “You scared the hell out of us.” The words were quiet, almost restrained, but something in his expression made your chest tighten. The nurse returned before anyone could say more. “I need to check her blood pressure again,” she said gently. “You can stay for a few minutes, but she needs rest, and the doctor will want to reassess her once the remaining results are available.” Donghyuck immediately shifted aside. Jaemin wiped quickly at his face. Sunghoon remained where he was, one hand resting against the metal rail at the end of the bed. The cuff tightened around your arm. You stared at the ceiling while the machine hummed, trying to understand how the night had gone from flashing lights and music to a hospital bed surrounded by three frightened faces. No matter how hard you tried, the space between those two moments remained completely empty. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The rest of the day passed in a blur. The hospital staff checked in on you frequently, making sure you were eating and drinking, and that the drug was fully leaving your system. Your body still felt sluggish, like moving through water, and your head pounded in a dull, persistent ache. By the time the evening rolled around, you were discharged with strict instructions to rest, stay hydrated, and come back if anything felt off. Donghyuck refused to let you go home alone, ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t be, that Sunghoon would be there with you and insisted on coming to your apartment. So Donghyuck, Sunghoon, and you settled into the couch in your living room, the TV casting a soft glow across the dimly lit living room. There was nothing particular you wanted to do or watch, everything feeling a bit over- and understimulating at the same time, but you knew your brother was worried. So you just let him pull you onto the sofa, opening Netflix and starting the first show that was on your recently watched list. You were looking at the TV, seeing the pictures, hearing the sounds, the music, the monologues, but you could barely focus on following the story. Your whole body still felt off, heavy, sluggish. Every movement required double the effort. It felt like there was a fog over everything, making it impossible to think too hard or even process what had happened. So you just sat there, curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in one of the throw blankets.

They had given you medication against the nausea, so you could eat at least a bit. Your stomach felt upset nonetheless, no matter how much you drank or shifted your position, so at one point you had just given up, slumping into the sofa, willing yourself to stay awake for at least the first episode of whatever you were watching. Donghyuck was chattering away, commenting on everything that was happening, even roping in Sunghoon into muttering a few comments here and there. At one point, your brother turned to you, seemingly wanting to see if you agreed with what he had just said. “Right, Y/N?” You blinked slowly, shifting your eyes to focus on his face instead of the TV. “Huh?” Donghyuck’s teasing expression faltered slightly, and his eyes softened. “Never mind,” he said gently. “Are you tired?” You nodded, barely holding back a yawn. Donghyuck reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.” You were about to agree, but when you tried to move, your entire body protested. Even sitting up felt like too much effort. “Mhm, I’ll go after this episode.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement and turned back to the TV. Somewhere in the middle of the episode, your body gave in to exhaustion. You woke up in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to realise you were curled into Donghyuck’s side, your head resting against his chest. His arm was draped over you protectively, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room. You adjusted slightly and closed your eyes again. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The apartment was quiet. Sunghoon stood in the kitchen, rolling his shoulders back as he stared at the half-chopped apple sitting on the cutting board in front of him. His eyes kept flicking toward the living room, where you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Again. Donghyuck had left a few hours ago, only after making you swear you would be okay. He assured you and Sunghoon that he would be back in seconds if he was needed. Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon knew that you wouldn’t be on top of your game less than a day after being drugged, but his heart clenched every time he walked past your sleeping figure on the sofa. You had dragged yourself from your room into the living room, claiming your room was too cold to be in, wrapping yourself in multiple layers of blankets before passing out not long after. Donghyuck had insisted you ate lunch while he was there, wanting to see you eat at least a bit, seeming satisfied after you ate a whole bowl of rice and some soup before you took painkillers and suppressants against the nausea. Sunghoon had called his mom after he had woken up today, having the desire to speak to someone who was truly adult about the whole situation. She had offered to come to Seoul, taking care of the two of you for a few days, or at least until you were feeling a bit better, when she learned that your mother couldn’t. He had declined her offer, but gratefully accepted her recipes for an upset stomach. Starting with serving you some vegetables that were easily digestible. So he neatly arranged a banana, a few pieces of cucumber, carrots and some graham crackers before setting the plate down on the coffee table. Maybe you felt like eating a bit when you woke up, and the meds had kicked in. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You jerked awake, shooting upright so quickly that the sudden movement sent a sharp pulse through your head. For a few seconds, you didn’t know where you were. The apartment was silent around you, the curtains pulled almost completely shut. Thin lines of sunlight filtered in around the edges of the fabric, cutting pale strips across the living room floor. The television had been turned off at some point, and the only sound came from the low hum of the air conditioner and your own uneven breathing. You were sweating. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your back, and damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead and the side of your neck. At the same time, your skin felt cold beneath the blankets wrapped around you, a strange chill sitting deep inside your body despite the heat trapped underneath the fabric. You slowly started peeling the blankets away. Even that felt like too much effort. Your arms were heavy, your fingers clumsy as they caught in the folds, and it took you much longer than it should have to free your legs. By the time the last blanket slipped onto the floor, your heart was beating too quickly for someone who had done nothing but sit up. For a long moment, you stayed there. Your feet rested against the cool floor while you leaned forward, elbows braced against your knees. You took one breath, then another, trying to orient yourself. Your body felt wrong. Heavy and hollow at the same time. Your head still hurt, though the sharp migraine from the day before had softened into a dull, persistent pressure behind your eyes. Your muscles ached like you had been running for hours, and every part of you seemed to lag a second behind your thoughts. Then your stomach growled. The sound was loud in the quiet apartment, followed by an uncomfortable twist that made you place a hand against your middle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten properly. You swallowed, but there was barely any moisture in your mouth. The movement scraped against the back of your throat and made you wince. Water. You needed water. Maybe something small to eat as well. Rice. Toast. Something plain enough that your stomach wouldn’t protest. You placed both hands against the sofa and pushed yourself upright. The world tilted immediately. You tightened your grip on the backrest, your fingers digging into the fabric as the living room shifted sideways. Black spots flickered briefly at the edges of your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing slowly until the floor seemed to settle beneath you again. When you opened them, the room was still. Mostly. You waited another few seconds before carefully letting go of the sofa. Your legs felt unsteady, but they held. The distance between the living room and the kitchen had never seemed particularly far before, but now every step required concentration. You moved slowly, one hand occasionally brushing against the wall or the edge of the furniture, as though your own apartment had become unfamiliar overnight. A small Post-it note was stuck to the refrigerator door. You stopped in front of it. Sunghoon’s handwriting covered most of the yellow paper, neat but slightly tilted to one side. I cut up some fruit and vegetables for you. It’s in the blue box you always use. My mom said you should get well soon. A tiny smiley face had been drawn beneath the message.

You stared at it for longer than necessary. Somehow you were weirdly touched and embarrassed at the same time that Sunghoon had told his mom, probably asked her what to do and then had taken the time to cut up fruit for you. With a quiet huff, you pulled the refrigerator door open. The light struck your eyes immediately. Pain shot through your skull, sharp enough to make you recoil. You let the door fall closed again and raised one hand to cover your face, blinking rapidly against the burning behind your eyes. For a moment, you stood there with your palm pressed against the counter. The dizziness returned, softer this time but still enough to make your stomach shift unpleasantly. Maybe food could wait. Maybe you should drink something first. The pounding in your head might be dehydration. The dry mouth definitely was. If you drank some water and sat down again, you might feel normal enough to eat the fruit afterwards. A half-full bottle of water stood on the counter. You reached for it, rubbing the heel of your free hand against one eye before twisting the cap open. Your fingers felt weaker than usual, and the thin plastic crumpled slightly beneath your grip. You brought the bottle to your mouth and took three large swallows. The water was lukewarm, but you didn’t care. It felt good against your throat, washing away some of the dryness. For approximately two seconds. Then it didn’t sit right. Your stomach tightened so suddenly that you froze with the bottle still near your lips. A hard, unpleasant twist pulled through your middle. Not quite pain. Something worse. Something shifting and unstable, as if the water had disturbed whatever fragile balance your stomach had managed to find while you were asleep. You stopped breathing. For a second, you simply stood there, staring at the cabinet in front of you. Maybe it would pass. You had drunk too quickly. That was all. Your stomach had been empty, and you had swallowed too much water at once. It would settle if you stayed still. You lowered the bottle carefully. Your mouth filled with saliva. Your stomach rolled again, sharper this time. No. Your hand flew to your middle while the other placed the bottle onto the counter so quickly that it tipped onto its side. Water sloshed against the plastic, but you barely noticed. No, that was not good. You turned instinctively toward the sink, bending forward slightly as another wave passed through you. Please, no. The thought came before anything else. You pressed your palm harder against your stomach, as though enough pressure might hold everything in place. Your breathing became shallow and careful. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly. Calmly. It was nausea. Just nausea. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. You had drunk too quickly. There were a dozen reasonable explanations for why you felt sick. This was different. It had to be different. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your throat tightened every time you swallowed. The nausea rose and fell in unpredictable waves, and panic followed it immediately, hot and violent beneath your ribs. You could not throw up. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t allow yourself to.

The thought sounded irrational even inside your own head. People threw up when they were sick. It happened. It meant nothing. Your body was trying to protect itself after everything it had been through. But your body did not seem to understand that this was supposed to be different. It remembered. The pressure beneath your ribs. The saliva gathering beneath your tongue. The instinctive way your body folded forward before you even decided to move. You knew every step that would come next. That knowledge terrified you more than the nausea itself. You inhaled through your nose. One. Exhaled slowly. Two. Again. In. Out. It would pass. It had to pass. You stayed perfectly still, one hand braced against the counter and the other pressed over your stomach. Gradually, the pressure eased. Only slightly, but enough that you could take a fuller breath. You opened your eyes. The kitchen came back into focus around you. The closed refrigerator. The tipped bottle. Sunghoon’s note fluttering faintly beneath the air from the vent. You were okay. You were getting through it. Maybe if you stood there for another minute, the nausea would disappear completely. Then you could go back to the sofa. You could lie down, pull the blankets over yourself and pretend none of this had happened. You lifted your head. The movement itself was small but still enough to set the next wave of nausea into motion. Your stomach clenched so violently that your knees almost gave out beneath you. You covered your mouth, a broken sound catching in your throat as you stumbled away from the counter. No. No, no, no. You barely made it into the bathroom. Your shoulder collided with the doorframe on the way inside, but you barely registered the dull pain. One hand caught the edge of the sink while the other remained clamped over your mouth. The cold porcelain pulled you back into reality for half a second. Then your stomach twisted again. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet. The position was too familiar. That was the first clear thought that cut through the panic. Your knees against the cold floor. One hand gripping the toilet seat. Your head bowed as your body prepared itself, completely ignoring every desperate command you gave it. You stared down into the empty bowl. Your breathing came too quickly now, shallow and uneven, and every inhale seemed to catch halfway into your lungs. You were sick. That was all. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. Your stomach was irritated. This was not something you had chosen. This had nothing to do with before. But the tiles beneath your knees felt the same. The pressure behind your ribs felt the same. The helpless, ugly awareness of what your body was about to do felt exactly the same. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the toilet. “No,” you whispered. The word disappeared into the quiet bathroom. Your mouth filled with saliva again. You swallowed forcefully, fighting against the reflex, but that only made the nausea rise higher. “No. Please.” You pressed one hand against your stomach, trying to force your breathing back into something manageable. A small, broken sound escaped your lips, and you bent forward further. The worst part was that you knew what came afterwards. The relief.

That brief emptiness. The sudden quiet after your body had stopped fighting itself. You hated that your mind remembered it. You hated that some distant, buried part of you anticipated it. The bathroom door opened behind you. “Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was sharp, immediately awake despite the sleep still roughening its edges. You froze. Shame hit you so quickly that it almost drowned out the nausea. He couldn’t see you like this. You turned your head slightly, but not enough to look at him. “Go.” The word came out hoarse and weak. There was a brief silence. “What happened?” His footsteps moved closer. “No.” You shook your head, though the motion immediately made the room tilt again. “Go away.” He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. You heard him cross the bathroom in two quick steps before he crouched beside you. His presence seemed to take up the entire small space, warm and solid against the cold air. “Hey, hey.” His hand hovered uncertainly near your back. “Are you going to be sick?” You flinched away from him. Your hand left the toilet long enough to press weakly against his chest. You tried to push him back, but there was barely any strength behind the movement. “Go,” you rasped again. “Go away, Sunghoon. I’m fine.” The lie sounded pathetic even to you. His brows drew together. “You’re not fine.” “I am.” You pushed at him once more, but he barely moved. Everything about the situation became unbearable at once. His closeness. His worry. The fact that he was looking at you, taking in the sweat on your face and the tears already gathering in your eyes. You were good. You weren’t doing this anymore. You hadn’t done this in years. Sunghoon had to leave. But before either of you could say anything else, another contraction pulled through your stomach. You doubled over, both hands returning to the toilet seat as your throat tightened around a sob. The nausea rose hard and fast, forcing your body forward. Sunghoon’s hand landed carefully between your shoulder blades. You tried to shrug him off. “Don’t.” “I’m just trying to help.” “I don’t need help.” Your voice cracked at the end. You hated this. You hated how familiar the cold floor felt beneath your knees. You hated that your body knew exactly what position to take, how to brace itself, how to wait for the inevitable. Worse, you hated the small, traitorous thought moving beneath the panic. If you threw up, you would feel better. You knew that. Throwing up always helped. The nausea would disappear. The pressure would ease. The terrible fullness in your chest and stomach would finally be gone. The thought was almost reassuring. That realisation made terror flood through you all over again. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. You did not know whether you were asking him to stay or begging him to leave. “I know,” he said quickly. His voice was tense. “I know. Just breathe, okay? Don’t fight it too hard.” A miserable sound escaped you, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He went still. “No, I mean…” He shook his head rapidly, realising too late that he had said the wrong thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few laborious breaths, trying to get yourself under control, fighting your body even more.

“Do you want water?” he asked, panic creeping more openly into his voice. “Or your medication? Maybe the pills they gave you can still help.” You shook your head. The movement made your stomach lurch again. You folded forward, one hand flying to your mouth as a choked, helpless noise tore out of you. Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “Okay. Okay.” His breathing was too quick now. “Don’t move. I’ll call the hospital.” That sentence broke through the fog immediately. “No!” Sunghoon had already started to stand, but he stopped halfway and looked down at you. “No?” “Don’t call them.” Your voice shook so much, you weren’t sure he understood what you said. “Y/N, you were discharged less than a day ago.” “I’m fine.” “You’re crying on the bathroom floor.” “I said I’m fine,” you snapped, moving away from him. He stared at you for half a second, disbelief and fear moving across his face. Then he crouched beside you again. “You’re not fine,” his voice was quiet. His hand reached toward your face, hesitating before carefully brushing the loose strands of hair away from your damp forehead. “Let me call them. I can explain what’s happening and ask if this is normal. We don’t even have to go back unless they tell us to.” Your chest tightened further. The thought of the hospital made the humiliation burn hotter. Doctors asking questions. Someone writing down your weight again, discussing your body, telling you that this wasn’t healthy. Donghyuck finding out. Everyone watching. Everyone knowing that you could not even be trusted to recover normally. “If I could just…” You swallowed hard, another wave building beneath your ribs. “If I could just get it out, it would stop.” The words left your mouth before you could catch them. Sunghoon’s expression changed, only slightly, a small crease forming between his brows. “What?” Your entire body went cold. You turned your face away from him. “Nothing,” tears spilt down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Sunghoon’s hand stilled against your back. “For what?” You shook your head. For making him sit here. For making him see you like this. For knowing exactly what would make the nausea stop. For the horrible, quiet relief that had already started forming in your mind before your body had even done anything. “You shouldn’t have to…” Your voice broke. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” “Don’t,” the word came out louder than he intended, but you flinched nonetheless. His face changed immediately. “Sorry.” He softened his voice, moving his hand more carefully over your back. “Don’t apologise. Okay? You don’t have to apologise to me.” You stared down at the tile. “You just got out of the hospital,” he continued. “You’re sick. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with being sick.” But there was. He didn’t understand. You weren’t doing this anymore. A sob pushed its way out of your throat. You covered your mouth, but it was too late. You weren’t the girl who knelt on bathroom floors anymore. You weren’t the girl who waited until everyone was asleep. You weren’t the girl who planned how long to run the tap so nobody would hear. You felt weak, embarrassed, dirty, wrong. Sunghoon kept one hand between your shoulder blades while the other hovered uncertainly near your arm. He clearly did not know whether touching you was helping or making everything worse. “Oh, Y/N.”

The pity you thought you heard in his voice made your throat close. You hated it. You hated the idea of him feeling sorry for you. You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that, but the nausea rose again before you could speak. Sunghoon saw the change in your face. “Shit.” You turned toward the toilet. One hand caught the sink while your stomach contracted hard enough to make your entire body jerk forward. Sunghoon’s hand returned to your back immediately. The sound that escaped you was horrified and miserable, followed by the violent tightening of your stomach as what little remained inside it came up. Your eyes burned. Your throat burned. Your fingers slipped against the cold porcelain, and Sunghoon moved closer, supporting your shoulder when you shook too hard to keep yourself steady. “It’s okay,” he muttered, the words sounding more like something he was telling himself than something he expected you to believe. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You hated that he was there. You were grateful that he was there. Both feelings existed so violently beside each other that you could barely separate them. Your body contracted again. Then again. Each time, the pressure eased slightly. And there it was. Relief. Small at first. Then unmistakable. The nausea retreated. The painful fullness beneath your ribs loosened. Your breathing became easier between the sobs catching in your throat. You noticed it immediately. That was the worst part. The nausea had terrified you. The relief terrified you more. Your body remembered this. Some part of you still recognised the emptiness afterwards as something clean and quiet. You hated yourself for feeling it. When it was over, you remained bent above the toilet for several seconds, trembling hard enough that your teeth almost knocked together. Sunghoon’s hand moved slowly across your back. You sat back on your heels. A sob escaped you before you could stop it. Sunghoon reached forward and flushed the toilet quickly. “I’ll get you water,” he said. “Stay here. Don’t stand up.” Before you could answer, he was gone. You heard his footsteps hurry through the hallway, followed by the sound of drawers and cabinets opening in the kitchen. The second he disappeared, you pushed yourself upright. Your knees protested, and the room tilted again, but you grabbed the edge of the washing machine and forced yourself to stand. Your mouth tasted awful. Acid burned at the back of your throat. The bitter taste clung to your tongue, and you could still smell it in the small bathroom. You needed it gone. Immediately. Your hand reached for your toothbrush before you had consciously decided to move. You knew you were supposed to rinse first. Some distant, reasonable part of your mind remembered being told that brushing immediately was bad for your teeth. You did not care. The taste made your skin crawl. It made everything too real. You squeezed toothpaste onto the brush with shaking fingers and started scrubbing. The sharp mint burned against your tongue. You brushed harder; the repetitive movement quieted something inside your head. Back and forth. Across the front. Along the sides. The taste of mint replacing the acid. The foam gathering in the sink. For a second, it almost felt meditative. Automatic. Familiar. That thought made your hand falter.

You spat into the sink and rinsed your mouth. It wasn’t enough. You could still feel it at the back of your throat, could still taste something sour beneath the mint. You cleaned the toothbrush, squeezed more toothpaste onto it and started again. Harder this time. Your gums hurt, but you kept brushing. You needed every trace of it gone. After a minute or maybe more, you rinsed your mouth again, and cleaned the toothbrush more carefully than necessary before placing it back into its holder. When you finally lifted your head, your reflection stared back at you. You looked awful. Your face was pale, almost grey beneath the bathroom light. Your hair had fallen loose around your shoulders, damp strands sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, your mouth trembling faintly even though the vomiting had stopped. Your cheeks looked hollow. You stared at them. At least your face looked smaller. The thought arrived before you could stop it. Disgust rose through you so quickly that you almost gagged again. What was wrong with you? You had just been drugged. You had spent the night in a hospital. You had collapsed in front of a room full of people and woken up with no memory of how you had gotten there. And this was what your brain chose to notice. The shape of your face. The emptiness in your stomach. You gripped the edge of the sink. Your stomach felt hollow now. Not simply hungry. Truly empty. The sensation sat beneath your ribs, strange and familiar, making you aware of every angle of your body. The slight pull of your shirt against your waist. The bones beneath your hands. The absence of anything heavy inside you. It had been years since you had felt like this. Years since empty had meant more than hunger. Years since you had treated that hollow ache like proof that you had done something right. You stared at your reflection for too long. Your hand remained braced against the sink, the other hanging uselessly beside you. The girl in the mirror looked just as shocked as you felt. Sunghoon shifted behind you. You had almost forgotten that he was there, but he was watching you quietly, holding a glass of water and a bucket in his hands. You looked up and met his gaze through the mirror. He wasn’t looking at you with disgust. That almost made it worse. His expression was soft and worried, his brows drawn together as he took in your shaking hands and tear-streaked face. Heat spread across your face despite the cold sitting beneath your skin. He placed the bucket carefully beside the sink, then he held the glass of water toward you. “Rinse with this,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to drink it yet.” You took it because refusing would require looking at him. Your fingers brushed his, and you pulled your hand away too quickly, making some of the water spill over the rim. “Sorry,” the word escaped you almost automatically. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Stop apologising.” You stared into the glass. He stood there for another second before clearing his throat. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” You looked up at him through the mirror. “What?” His expression changed slightly, as though he immediately regretted the way he had phrased it.

“Not like…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for the first time. “I just mean so I can hear you if you need anything. If you get sick again.” Your stomach dropped for a completely different reason. Humiliation crashed through you so quickly that your eyes stung all over again. To him, it was probably practical. He was worried because you had been in the hospital. He wanted to make sure you did not faint or choke or need help while he was asleep. But all you heard was that you could not be trusted alone. That you looked bad enough to need watching. That he had seen something in you that made him believe you were not safe in your own room. You swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” The words came out thin and unconvincing. Sunghoon looked at you. You could tell he did not believe you. He did not challenge you immediately, though. “Okay,” he said carefully. “But if you’re not, you can say so.” You nodded because you did not trust yourself to speak, before you drowned the glass and placed it back on the counter with shaky hands. Sunghoon watched you for a moment, then he stepped a little closer, still far away that he couldn’t touch you. “You don’t have to go back to your room,” he said quietly. “That’s all I meant.” You folded the towel over the metal rail, smoothing it twice even though it was already straight. “I know,” your voice was quiet, almost fragile as you answered. Sunghoon glanced down at the bucket beside the sink before looking back at you. “I can put this next to the bed,” he said. “Just in case.” You nodded again. He reached for it, then hesitated. “Do you want me to call Donghyuck?” “No.” Your answer came so quickly, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No,” you repeated, softer this time. “Please don’t tell him.” Something shifted in his expression, but he did not ask why. “Okay.” He picked up the bucket and stepped into the hallway. You stayed in front of the mirror for another second before you turned off the bathroom light and followed him outside. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ Sunghoon’s room was darker than yours. The curtains were pulled almost completely shut, only a thin strip of light slipping through where the fabric did not quite meet in the middle. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, tape, charger cables and one of his training jackets thrown carelessly over the back of the chair. A faint trace of his cologne still clung to the room, mixed with laundry detergent and the colder air from the AC. You stood near the doorway for a second, suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, being in here. You had helped him move into the room months ago. You had brought him coffee while he studied at his desk, stood in the doorway while talking to him, and occasionally walked in to steal one of his chargers after knocking. But you had never been inside his bed. Sunghoon placed the bucket on the floor beside the nightstand and moved one of the pillows closer to the wall. “You can take that side,” he said, gesturing toward it. “It’s closer to the bathroom.” You nodded. The practical explanation only made your embarrassment return. He must have noticed something in your expression because he quickly added, “Not because I think you’re going to be sick again. Just in case you get dizzy when you stand up.” “I know.” Your voice sounded small in the quiet room.

You climbed onto the mattress carefully, trying not to move too quickly. Your body still felt weak and uncertain beneath you, as if even sitting down required more coordination than it should have. Sunghoon pulled the blanket back for you before stepping away. You lowered yourself onto the far side of the bed, turning onto your side with your back toward the wall. The mattress dipped beneath your weight and smelled faintly like him. Clean fabric, shampoo and something warmer you could not identify. You pulled the blanket up to your chest. Sunghoon remained standing beside the bed for a moment, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “You can sleep,” you murmured. “You don’t have to watch me.” “I wasn’t going to watch you.” You turned your head enough to look at him. He was already frowning slightly, as if he had only just realised how strange that sounded. “I mean,” he added quickly, “I’m not going to sit there and stare at you.” Despite everything, a small breath of laughter left you. It barely made a sound, but Sunghoon’s shoulders loosened when he heard it. “Good,” you whispered. He nodded, then walked around the bed and lay down on the other side. The mattress shifted beneath him. Sunghoon stayed as close to the edge as possible, leaving a wide strip of untouched bedding between the two of you. There was enough room for another person to lie comfortably in the space separating your bodies. He turned onto his back and pulled the blanket up only as far as his waist. You remained on your side, facing the room. The room fell silent. You could hear the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock on his nightstand. Somewhere outside, a car drove past, its headlights briefly slipping through the gap in the curtains before disappearing again. You closed your eyes. Your body was exhausted. Every muscle felt heavy, your head still ached, and the cold emptiness in your stomach had been replaced by a dull soreness. You should have fallen asleep immediately. Instead, your mind refused to become quiet. You could still feel the edge of the toilet beneath your fingers. The bitter taste beneath the toothpaste. Sunghoon’s hand against your back. The way he had looked at you through the mirror. You pulled the blanket a little higher, pressing your lips together as if that could stop the memories from moving through your head. Minutes passed. You were not sure how many. Sunghoon shifted slightly on the other side of the bed. The movement was careful, almost hesitant, as though he was trying not to disturb you. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes opened. For a second, you thought you might have imagined it. You slowly turned your head toward him. Sunghoon was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms rested stiffly at his sides, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “For what?” His jaw moved slightly before he answered. “For convincing you to go.” Your brows drew together. “What?” “To the party.” His voice was quiet. “You didn’t want to go.” You turned onto your back so you could look at him properly. His profile was barely visible in the darkness. The line of his nose, the slight tension in his jaw, his eyes fixed stubbornly above him instead of looking in your direction.

“You had a migraine,” he continued. “You looked exhausted before we even left, and I still told you it would be fine.” “Sunghoon–” “I should’ve told you to stay home.” “No.” The word came out more firmly than anything you had said since leaving the hospital. Sunghoon finally looked at you. You pushed yourself slightly higher against the pillow. “No,” you repeated. “You didn’t do anything.” “I convinced you to come.” “And I’m glad you did.” He stared at you. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry your throat still felt. “I mean it,” you said. “It was fun.” His expression did not change. “At the beginning,” you added quickly. “When I was with you and your friends. And Jaemin. I was having fun.” Sunghoon’s brows pulled together. “You don’t have to make me feel better.” “I’m not,” you turned more toward him, ignoring the way the room shifted faintly with the movement. “I never go anywhere,” you said. “You know that. I work or study or stay at home. And I wanted to go. I was nervous, but I wanted to.” He looked unconvinced. “You said yourself that you didn’t like parties.” “I don’t usually.” “That’s not the point.” “It is,” you took a breath, trying to arrange your thoughts into something that made sense. “I had fun when Jake hugged me even though it almost killed me,” you murmured. “And when Jay started arguing with Jaemin about music. And when you made your team lose at beer pong the whole time because you kept throwing the ball everywhere else instead of the table.” Sunghoon’s mouth shifted faintly. “I wasn’t losing.” “You were terrible.” “I had one bad round.” “You missed the table with like every shot.” “It was crowded.” A tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. For a moment, the tension in the room eased. Then Sunghoon looked away again, and it disappeared. “You still wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked you.” You stared at him. “No,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t make it your fault.” He remained silent. The guilt in his expression made something uncomfortable twist in your chest. “It was mine.” Sunghoon turned his head sharply. “What?” You looked down at the blanket gathered beneath your hands. “It was my fault.” Sunghoon pushed himself onto one elbow. “No.” “I should have paid attention.” “No.” “I didn’t even think about having to watch my cup.” “Y/N.” “It was just water, right? Why would someone spike water?” Your voice began moving faster, the thoughts spilling out now that you had started. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to watch your drinks at parties. I was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention, and then everyone had to deal with it. You and Jaemin had to deal wth me being unconscious. You had to call the ambulance. Donghyuck left whatever party he was at and came in his costume. You missed training today and had to sit there all night because I–” “Stop.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through yours. You froze. He was fully turned toward you now, the empty space between you suddenly feeling smaller despite neither of you having moved closer. “That is not what happened.” You looked away. “It is.” “No,” his answer was immediate. “You had fun at a party and trusted the people around you to not have any bad intentions. That’s what you did.” “I should’ve been more careful,” you pressed your lips together.

Sunghoon’s voice stayed controlled, but there was something sharp beneath it now. Not anger directed at you, but anger that seemed to fill the space around him. “He put something in your drink,” he said. “He did that. You didn’t.” “I still drank it.” “Because you thought it was water.” “I should’ve noticed.” “How?” You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “How were you supposed to notice?” he asked again. “Was it supposed to smell different? Look different? Were you supposed to know what he was thinking?” You stared down at your hands. Sunghoon sat up slightly, his back resting against the headboard. “You trusted someone not to poison you,” he continued. “That isn’t a mistake.” Your throat tightened. “It feels like one.” “I know,” his voice was firm. “But it wasn’t, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault.” You blinked rapidly, refusing to look at him. “If I had been more careful–” “Then he might have done it to someone else.” You looked at him. Sunghoon’s face was difficult to read in the darkness, but his eyes were fixed on you. “That doesn’t make it better,” he said. “And it doesn’t make you responsible. It means he made a choice to hurt someone.” Your chest felt too tight“You don’t know that he wanted to hurt me.” “He drugged you,” his voice hardened again. “He watched you get confused. He watched you lose control of your body, and he still kept touching you.” Fragments flashed through your mind. A hand at your waist. A voice too close to your ear. The wall beneath your palm. Then Sunghoon’s voice cutting through the music. You squeezed your eyes shut. “That was his choice,” Sunghoon said. “Every part of it.” The mattress shifted. For a second, you thought he might move closer, but he did not. He remained on his side of the bed, leaving the space between you untouched. “Not yours,” he continued. “You didn’t choose to be drugged. None of this is your fault. It's not mine or Jaemin’s. It’s Intak’s fault.” You turned your face toward the wall again. The darkness blurred slightly as tears gathered in your eyes. Sunghoon was quiet for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “And you’re allowed to feel awful. You don’t have to be okay.” Your fingers tightened against the fabric. “You were drugged,” he said. “You woke up in a hospital without knowing what happened to you. You feel sick, and tired, and scared. You’re allowed to feel all of that.” A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and disappeared into the pillow. “You’re allowed to be angry,” he continued. “Or upset. Or disgusted. You’re allowed to hate everything right now.” His voice cracked slightly on the next sentence. “You don’t have to make it easier for us if it’s hard for you, Y/N.” That hurt more than you expected. You swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out of your mouth, because what were you supposed to say? You were you fine? The silence stretched between you, but he did not fill it immediately. He did not ask whether you understood. He did not make you promise that you believed him. He simply remained there, close enough that you could hear his breathing but far enough that you did not feel cornered. You stared at the wall. Your body still felt wrong. Your stomach was hurting, your throat was burning, shame was still sitting heavily beneath your skin. Nothing he had said made those feelings disappear.

But for the first time since waking in the hospital, you did not feel as though you had to argue with them. You did not have to insist that you were fine. You did not have to explain. You could simply lie there and feel horrible. A quiet sob caught in your chest. You pressed your face further into the pillow, trying to hide it. Sunghoon did not move closer. He did not reach across the space between you without asking. He did not try to fix it. He did not ask you to stop crying. He was simply there. And eventually, with your body still trembling faintly and his breathing steady behind you, exhaustion pulled you under.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

AN ──── FINALLY! ITS HERE! Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you all had a great time reading...at least the fluffy parts. The next parts could be tiggering even more to those suffering or healing from an ed, so i am advising you to not continue reading. Its gonna be very angsty. Also if anyone is wondering why this took so long, ill let you know tht just formatting this to tumrbl text format took me 3 hours and reading over the text before that took 2 1/2 hours 😀. So i'd be really gratefull to hear your thought, I need that lil dopaimne, please don't be a quiet reader 😔🫶🏻

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon.” Sunghoon set the magazine down on your sofa table. “I’m your new roommate. I don’t know if Mister Kang told you that I am moving in today instead of on the first. I had a more or less spontaneous change of plans.” 

No. 

No, Mr Kang did not. 

You opened your mouth before closing it, willing your face into a small, tight smile. 

“Hi,” your voice was pitched a notch too high, and you cringed. “I am Y/N. Are you sure you are in the right apartment? I mean, considering you probably got the keys from Mr Kang, yes, but he didn’t tell me anything about a roommate? I know Apartment 4B is a free room?” 

Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows. “This is Apartment 4D, right? I definitely signed a contract for the smaller room in Apartment 4D.”

“Oh,” you just said and blinked at him.

The smaller room in your apartment had been rented out for as long as you lived here. Not by you, but by some mystery girl that seemed to have no interest in living in this apartment. Mister Kang didn’t care if the other girl came or not, as long as the rent was paid on time, and told you you were free to use the room until she did indeed show up. 

So that is what you did. 

You transformed the small room into your studio. 

And you knew for a fact that the desk and the floor were a cluttered mess at the moment. 

Heat shot up your neck at the realisation.

“I–uhm–I didn't know you were moving in at all. I’ve been using the room as my studio. Just give me like an hour, and I’ll move all of my stuff into my room,” you sighed, already feeling a headache coming. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at your words, then glanced toward the hallway leading to his supposed new room. "You’ve been using it as a studio?"

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah. I mean, it’s been empty since I moved in. Not technically empty? Someone rented it out, but she never came, and Mr Kang said I could use the room if my supposed roommate didn’t want it. So I just… took over? I’ll be really fast, so you can start putting all your stuff in there."

Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in amusement, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So, I’m kicking you out of your studio?"

"Technically, yes. But it’s not your fault. Mr Kang just kind of forgot to tell me you were coming? At all? So I didn’t know I had to clean it out." 

He nodded, glancing back toward the hallway before looking at you again. "Well, if you need help moving your stuff, I don’t mind."

You shook your head, taking off your jacket, unceremoniously dropping it onto the sofa. "No, it’s fine. It’s mostly styrofoam, pens and sketches. It's fine."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind." 

He moved toward the sofa, lifting a box and putting it onto the floor before flopping down on the green fabric. “Are you a design student?”

“Oh. No. I study architecture.” You shook your head and made your way through the maze of boxes and furniture in your living room towards the hallway that separated your room and now apparently Sunghoon's room. 

“Oh, that's cool. I am in PE,” he grinned at you.

You just nodded again, not in the mood to talk with anyone right now, even less with the mysterious girl, well, boy, you now had to live together with. "Ah. That's nice. Just… make yourself at home while I clean, I guess?"

Sunghoon grinned. "Will do, roommate."

The word made you wince.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stood in the doorway of your studio, well, Sunghoon’s room, mentally preparing yourself for the hour of cleaning ahead. The small space was overflowing with architectural sketches, blueprint rolls, rulers, model pieces, and textbooks.

This was… embarrassing.

You usually were a really organised person, but with work and your deadline coming up, you just didn’t have the time and energy to clean up behind you. The last few weeks had been horrible; you were chasing one deadline after another, had worked endlessly on your projects and studied at the same time. Sleep was a luxury and cleaning was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you religiously did every day was cook. 

With a tired nod, you started moving, piling all of the cut-up styrofoam and paper into a trash bin, carrying unused styrofoam into your room and getting a broom from the kitchen. 

After around half an hour, Sunghoon slightly knocked on the doorframe to his room, startling you from where you were sorting through your sketches and designs. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, walking into the room, doing his best not to step on anything. 

You swallowed, ignoring the crawling feeling under your skin while he looked around with a curious look on his face.

“No, it's fine,” you mumbled, tiredly smiling at him. “I usually am a really clean person. It’s just…exam season.” 

Your head was aching, a slow pressure building behind your eyes, and you were hungry. You just wanted to eat something and roll up in your bed, but you weren’t about to make Sunghoon help you clean his room when it should have been clean from the get-go. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm. No worries. If it’s just your space that you use for creative chaos, I don’t have any problem with that.”

You pressed your lips onto each other and gave him a small nod before turning back to the stacks of paper on the bed. Most of them were half-finished sketches and drafts you never bothered to throw away, in case you needed them again. It would not be the first time. 

Sunghoon’s voice startled you. "What's this?” He gestured to a half-finished architectural model on his desk, a sleek modernist building carefully cut out of foam board and assembled with tiny, precise details. You spent countless hours on it, just for your professor to ask if you could start over since he didn’t think it was the best you could do.

You hesitated before replying. “It was supposed to be my final project. For my design class.”

Sunghoon bent down slightly, inspecting it. 

“This is insane,” he murmured, his fingers hovering near the structure but not touching it. “It looks like something you’d see in an actual firm.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just gave a small nod. You watched him inspect the model for a second longer before he reached for a stack of your books. 

“W-What are you doing?” Your hands stopped mid-motion, the papers in them unrolling slightly again. 

“Helping,” he said simply, not looking up. “You’re going to take forever if you do this alone. I’ll just put them into your room, okay?”

“O…kay,” you mumbled, focusing back on your sketches.

An hour and a half later, the room was clean. Well, mostly clean. Your things were now safely in your room, and Sunghoon’s moving boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, ready to be unpacked.

After you gave Sunghoon a tour of the kitchen and went over the house rules, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the living room when you were done. 

"Uhm… do you, uh, need anything else?"

Sunghoon looked up from where he was stacking his books on the shelf. "Nope. I think I got it."

"Okay, um, good. Well, uhm, goodnight then."

His lips curled slightly, amused at your awkwardness. "Goodnight, Y/N."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

When you woke up and made your way to the kitchen at 6:30 am the next day, you felt like you had just risen from the dead. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were half-closed, and your body was running purely on muscle memory as you wandered towards the kitchen.

There was light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen, and for a second you wondered if you forgot to turn it off yesterday or if you were just hallucinating again. But when you rubbed your eyes and looked up, you realised something far worse than hallucination was happening.

There was a half-naked man in your kitchen.

Sunghoon stood by the counter, one hand resting on the counter, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his bare upper body was exposed to the warm air in the kitchen. 

He turned, his eyes heavy with sleep, and blinked at you, standing frozen in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he yawned again. "Morning."

"Uh", you cleared your throat, snapping your gaze away from his body. Ogling at your admittedly stupidly attractive new roommate was very inappropriate. "Morning."

Your voice sounded way too high-pitched.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just poured himself a cup of coffee, completely unbothered.

You walked to the fridge, pretending not to care that he was standing next to it and grabbed one of your containers with porridge inside. 

By the time you turned back around, Sunghoon had disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, he re-emerged, now wearing a T-shirt.

"Do you have any plans today?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter as he took a sip of his coffee.

You glanced at him, still feeling a bit weird to have seen him half-naked after knowing him for not even twenty-four hours. "Uh… yeah. I have work today."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You work during the break?"

"Yes?" You frowned. "I mean, my scholarship covers a lot, but I still have to pay for food, transportation, materials, and extra costs. It adds up."

Sunghoon hummed, nodding. "What do you do?"

"I work as an intern at an architecture studio," you grabbed a spoon and honey, setting them on the counter. "I mostly organise files, scan documents, and do small tasks for the senior architects. I also make coffee and refill the printer paper, which is apparently the most important job in the entire office."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle at that. "Sounds fun."

You shrugged. "It pays. Do you have plans for today?"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward your food as you peeled off the lid of your porridge and took a small spoonful. "The only thing I’ll be doing today is train. Probably up until I get thrown out again."

You blinked at him. "Training?"

"Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "The season ended, but I’m still training. I’m working to qualify for the Olympics."

You froze mid-bite.

"The…Olympics?"

"Yeah."

Your spoon slowly lowered. "You’re an athlete?"

Sunghoon nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’m a figure skater.” 

“Oh,” you just answered, not knowing what else to say.

Both of you went silent for a long moment until he cleared his throat again. “I’ll probably come home pretty late. Do you mind me showering here or should I shower at the rink? I don’t want to, like, wake you up or something.”

You hummed and shook your head. “No, that’s all right. I sleep well even if there is noise around me.”

“Okay,” he nodded again. 

“Are you really training for the Olympics?” You asked after a bit of silence. 

"Hopefully," Sunghoon shrugged. "If I qualify."

For a moment, you just stared at him and tried to imagine him in one of those pretty dresses the figure skaters wore. Then, you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. "That’s really impressive."

Sunghoon just shrugged, like it was no big deal.

You took another bite of your porridge, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. You never did anything that made you special. Or something impressive. 

Your roommate took another sip of his coffee, watching you. "You always eat that little? I feel like if that was the only thing I ate for breakfast, I’d starve all day."

You swallowed, a bit caught off guard. "I meal-prep my portions."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Are you on a diet? Or just because it’s convenient?"

You hesitated for a second, the porridge suddenly heavy in your stomach, and just gave a tight smile. "It’s convenient."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon came home. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to come home to an empty apartment. In the last week that he had been living here, he had barely seen you around. 

You were usually out of the house when he rolled himself out of bed, and aside from a few short greetings in the kitchen, when both of you were at home, you barely talked. 

He figured you were just shy or maybe just didn’t like talking to people in general. 

Not that he had a problem with that. 

He himself wasn’t much of a talker either, and he really enjoyed the fact that you weren’t as noisy or nosy as his previous roommate. 

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched his arms over his head, sighing as he made his way into the living room. 

He poured himself a glass of water, hoping it would help him cool down a bit. Even though it was almost ten p.m., it was still unbearably hot outside, and the apartment wasn’t nearly as cold as he wished it to be. You rarely turned on the AC when you weren’t home. Sunghoon didn’t mind that; he was at the rink most of the time anyway, but today he felt like he was melting. 

The remote for the AC was on top of the fridge, and it came to life with a small humming sound after he turned it on. His eyes flickered over the pictures and postcards that were held up by colourful magnets on the fridge doors. Most of them seemed to be from the same place, all of them portraying the beach.

Before he could stop himself, he had reached forward and carefully picked one of them up. He knew he shouldn’t be doing that, but he was curious. He really didn’t know much about you, even though you were living together. For all he knew, you could be a serial killer who would strangle him to death while he was asleep. 

The thought made him chuckle. 

You were more than a head smaller than him and didn’t look strong enough to do that; you were rather petite.

Sunghoon turned the postcard around. 

Hi Bug! Busan is as beautiful as ever. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing well in Seoul. Take care. See you soon.- Love and miss you, Donghyuck :) 

Oh. 

He didn’t realise you had a boyfriend. 

Not that it would make him think differently of you, but he thought you would have mentioned it to him at least once. 

Donghyuck definitely sounded like a boyfriend's name. 

Your hometown was close to Busan after all. Maybe he went to Busan to study, and you went to Seoul, and the two of you were sending postcards back and forth? 

Sunghoon had asked around if someone might know you, and surprisingly, Jay recognised you after he had shown him your profile picture. 

He knew your brother, or well, a very close friend of your brother, Jeno, who had dated one of Jay’s friends for a while. Jay had told Sunghoon that the three of you came from a small town near Busan, but couldn’t tell him more about you; he hadn’t met you in person and had only seen pictures. 

Sunghoon shook his head and took another sip of water. 

He should really get to know you a bit. He really didn’t want to stumble into you and your boyfriend without warning.  

When he was just about to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, the front door opened. Sunghoon’s fight-or-flight response immediately set in, but when he saw your figure walking into the hallway, he relaxed again.

You seemed exhausted; your shoulders dropped, and your head hung low as you let your bag fall onto the floor, kicking off your shoes. You rubbed at your temple and took a deep, audible breath before lifting your gaze to meet his. The dim kitchen light cast soft shadows over your face, emphasising the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised. “Were you at work until now?” 

“Yeah, we were short-staffed in the cinema today,” you mumbled, walking past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.

“The cinema?” Sunghoon repeated. “I thought you worked at the architecture studio?”

"I do," you sighed, filling your glass with water just like he did a couple of minutes before. "This is my second job."

His eyebrows rose. "You have two jobs?"

You let out a small huff of laughter, but it was completely devoid of amusement. "Sadly, yeah."

Sunghoon blinked. “That sounds like a lot.”

You just nodded. “It is. But I get to stay in Seoul, and have at least a bit of money to spend on myself. So it’s worth it.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The sunlight was drifting in through the sheer curtains in the living room, heating up the bare skin of your legs. You didn’t mind the sun or the heat; you preferred it over the artificial cold coming from the ACs that were everywhere. Now that you barely had time for anything but working and studying, even during the summer break, you were almost desperate to catch a bit of sunlight. 

You were curled onto the sofa, reading a book from your to-be-read pile that accumulated during the semester, when Sunghoon shuffled into the living room, still half asleep. His hair was standing up in every direction, and he had red streaks on his face that came from sleeping on wrinkly fabric. He let himself fall next to you on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes again, grumbling sleepily. “Good morning, Y/N.”

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you said softly, turning your attention back to your book. You had noticed over the course of the last week that Sunghoon wasn’t a morning person. He was always grumpy in the morning, but still polite and nice to you.

For a long moment he just sat there, his eyes closed. The slow and soft breathing that came from Sunghoon made you think he had fallen asleep again, so you almost flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "Got any plans today?"

"Not really," you murmured, tucking your feet under yourself to make some more space for him.

Sunghoon opened one eye. “You don’t have work today?”

 "The studio is closed on weekends, and since I usually work on weekdays in the cinema, I have weekends off. "

"Mm," he grunted. "At least two days of the week, you don’t have to run out the door at seven.”

You let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. It’s nice to sleep in."

The conversation faded into silence, and you shifted your focus back onto your book. 

Just as you were finishing your chapter, his voice suddenly broke the silence in the living room again.

“Do you not like the AC?” 

You looked up and blinked at him. "The AC?"

He hummed. “Yeah, you rarely turn it on.”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “I like to open the windows in the morning. I like it warm, so I only turn it on when it gets unbearably warm. We can switch it on if you’d like to?” 

Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it’s fine. I was just wondering. Would you like me to open mine as well?” 

You hesitated. On the first day, you had thought about asking him if he could open his window, so there would be better airflow, but decided against it.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to overstep."

He exhaled a soft laugh. "Don’t worry. I'll just open it myself. Then you can’t overstep anything."

You smiled faintly. "Thank you."

For a while, there was nothing but the occasional rustling of your pages and the sound of cars in the distance. 

Then Sunghoon spoke again. 

He didn’t seem like a person who talked a lot. 

But apparently, he had the desire to talk to you sometimes. He would come to your room or the kitchen when you were there and strike up conversations. It was nice. Sunghoon was nice. 

You googled him and asked Jaemin about Sunghoon when you were working the Wednesday shift in the cinema together. Wednesday was always slow, not that you minded; it gave you plenty of time to talk to Jaemin.

According to him, Sunghoon was really nice. 

"Do you miss home?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, only to find that he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

You hesitated before answering. "Sometimes. Tongyeong has a certain charm to itself."

Sunghoon nodded slowly. „It must be weird to move from such a small town to Seoul. I grew up in Suwon, but I think I spend more time in Seoul than anywhere else. My childhood and teenage years took place in ice rinks in Seoul.“

You thought for a second. 

It was weird. 

The house you grew up in was always loud. Either your brothers or the guests downstairs in the restaurant were constantly talking or making noises, and suddenly you were in this apartment, all alone, and it was silent. 

You never realised how much you would miss your brothers until they weren’t just across the hall.

„Yeah. It’s weird,” you hummed. It’s so quiet and loud here at the same time. At home, you rarely hear this many cars passing by, but my family is quite loud, so living alone is very quiet,“ you put in a bookmark so you wouldn't lose your page. 

You assumed Sunghoon was in the mood to talk right now. 

„Really? Do you have siblings?“ He tilted his head slightly. His hair flopped down. 

You hummed and nodded. “Three brothers. All older. Seven years, four years and two years. What about you?“

„I have one sister. Five years younger than me. And a dog,“ he chuckled.

„Oh, that’s nice. I always wanted a pet. But my parents wouldn’t allow it. They were busy enough with 4 kids and a restaurant.“

"Your parents have a restaurant?" Sunghoon asked.

"Yeah," you nodded

"Do you help out?" He sat up, turning fully to you, his arm coming to rest on the backrest of the sofa.

"Not really," you admitted. "My parents always told me to focus on my studies and made my brothers help them. I would help if they let me. I usually cleaned out the flat, though. I like the area I live in to be really clean, and growing up, my brothers weren’t the cleanest.“

Sunghoon hummed. „Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think that’s pretty nice. That you are such a clean person, I mean. I love my old roommate, but he left his shit everywhere and should be sued for noise complaints. That guy never shuts up.“

„Oh, that sounds annoying,“ you chuckled. You could see how that would annoy Sunghoon. 

“It’s all right,” he hummed and lifted himself from the sofa. “Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about going for a run and getting something from the Creek. My friend’s girlfriend works there, and I can get us free stuff?”

“I, uhm. I already ate. But thank you so much for offering,” you smiled at him.

“Sure, always.” 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped back into the apartment. By the time he finished his run and stepped into the small cafe across the campus, the sun had started blazing. 

He peeled his shoes and socks off and had to stop himself from just ripping his drenched shirt off his body. Sure, you had seen him half naked once, but that was an accident, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it, so he sighed and moved towards the bathroom after dropping off the bag of baked goods in the kitchen. 

Sunghoon had expected you to have gone back to your room, but when his gaze flickered toward the living room, he noticed the top of your head peeking over the sofa backrest. 

“Y/N?” He stepped closer to the sofa. 

You were asleep.

Your legs were slightly bent, and your arms were in awkward positions, one sprawled across your face, blocking your eyes from the light coming in through the living room windows, the other one resting loosely over your stomach. The book you had been reading was lying on the floor next to you, seemingly having slipped from your hand when you fell asleep. 

Sunghoon reached down to pick it up, placing it onto the sofa table, before quietly wandering towards the bathroom to wash off the sweat still running down his back. 

He made his way back to the kitchen twenty minutes later and cursed the architect who designed your flat for deciding on building an open-style kitchen. It was actually what sold him on the place, but now, with only a kitchen pass-through separating the two spaces, it also meant that if he used the coffee machine, it would definitely wake you up. He signed and grabbed the orange juice jug in the fridge instead. 

As he poured himself a glass, his eyes landed on the vase near the window.  The tulips inside were starting to wilt, slowly letting their heads hang down. A few petals had fallen onto the windowsill.

Without thinking, he got up, grabbed the vase and changed the water. Maybe that would keep them alive for a bit longer. 

Sunghoon took another sip, glancing at your figure again. He was thinking about waking you up, so you could go to your bed and get proper rest, but before he could move, you stirred. 

At first, it was just a sleepy shift, a small stretch of your legs. But then, your eyelids fluttered, and with a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself up, blinking blearily at the room.

“Hi.”

Your gaze flickered to him, still half-asleep. 

“Hi,” you murmured back, your voice soft.

He hesitated for a second before nodding toward the counter. “I got you a salt bread.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, then you followed his gaze to the extra plate. You stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I got them for free, so I thought I’d just bring you one too.”

You hummed again before flopping back onto the sofa, stretching your arms above your head with a sleepy little sigh. Sunghoon watched you for a second, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching. You looked tired, even though you had just slept.

When you finally pushed yourself up from the couch, he glanced back down at his juice as if he had been doing that the whole time. He heard your soft footsteps on the floor and then watched you pad over to the kitchen again, yawning as you sank onto the stool across from him. Your hair was a little messy, one side pressed flatter than the other, and you still looked half asleep when you picked up the pastry and stared at it for a moment before tearing off a small piece.

“Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said quietly. “I really like these.”

He only hummed and leaned back slightly, watching as you took a bite.

“Me too. But I can’t really eat bread during the season,” he said. “So I have to stuff myself with anything gluten now, before I won’t be able to.”

You looked up at him, brows drawing together a little. “Why?”

He gave a small shrug. “I get stomach aches sometimes, and bloating is honestly the worst before practice. I really do not need to feel like I’ve swallowed a rock when I’m trying to jump on ice.”

You blinked once, then nodded slowly like you were processing that. “So it’s like a diet thing?”

He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just my stomach being dramatic.”

That seemed to ease something in your face, and you lowered your eyes back to the pastry in your hands. He watched you break off another piece, smaller this time. 

“I kind of get that,” you said after a moment.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “My stomach is pretty sensitive, I guess. I kind of have to eat small portions more often; otherwise it gets upset.”

That made him look at you properly. “Really?”

You nodded, almost like you were apologising for it. “And gluten makes it worse sometimes. Not always, but enough that I usually just try not to have too much of it at once.”

“Hm,” he hummed, because he didn’t really know what else to say. That sounded annoying, honestly. “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said quickly, then seemed to catch how fast you had said it and softened a little. “I mean. It’s annoying, but I’ve had it for a while.”

He nodded once. That made sense enough.

“Do you meal prep because of that?” he asked.

You looked down at the pastry again. “Mostly. It’s easier that way. If I have small portions ready, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Fair,” he said. “I meal prep during the season as well.”

That got your attention. You looked up again, a little surprised. “Really?”

He gave you a look. “Of course. I have to eat a lot, but cooking every day is a pain.”

Your mouth curved slightly at that. “You hate cooking?”

“I don’t hate it,” he said, though that was being generous. “I just don’t want to do it after training. I need a lot of protein and carbohydrates every day, so meal prep is the only way I stay sane.”

You nodded slowly, like you were filing that away. “That makes sense.”

“It’s annoying that I have to eat the same thing three days in a row,” he added. “But it works.”

A small laugh slipped out of you, soft and warm, and he glanced up before he could stop himself. “I actually like cooking,” you said.

He blinked once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, more certain this time. “It’s kind of one of the few things I don’t mind doing. I like making food for people. I like not eating alone.”

Sunghoon grinned at you. “That’s convenient.”

You frowned a little. “How is that convenient?”

He shrugged. “Because if you ever feel like cooking for me, I would definitely not stop you.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and a little disbelieving. “You would want me to cook for you?”

“I might even sit still and not get in your way while you’re in the kitchen,” he said seriously.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, but he could tell you were amused. “Wow. Generous.”

“I know,” he said, completely deadpan.

You took another bite of the pastry. 

“How often do you train?” you asked after a moment.

“Every day.”

Your brows lifted. “Every day?”

“Usually once,” he said. “Sometimes twice if Coach is being annoying.”

“That’s intense.”

“It’s normal for me,” he said, because it was. “But I burn a lot of calories, so I have to eat enough to stay at my weight.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with that same thoughtful expression you always got when you were actually trying to understand something. “You really have to eat that much?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

That made you smile faintly. “You make it sound like a chore.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted. “I’d rather skate and then disappear into bed, but apparently my body disagrees.”

You laughed softly. “Oh no, poor you.” 

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “if you ever feel like cooking, you can definitely make me something. I can’t promise I’ll be useful, but I can at least wash the dishes.”

Your eyes flicked to him. “That might actually be a good deal. I hate doing the dishes.”

“It is a good deal,” he said. “I’m very fair.”

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the sound of birds outside filtering in through the open windows.

“Sure,” you hummed and took another bite. 

Sunghoon leaned onto his arms. “So what do you do on your day off?”

You shrugged. “Laundry. Grocery shopping. Paint sometimes, but most of the time I just sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really making the most of your free time.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t have much free time, so I have to use it well.”

Sunghoon thought about that for a second. It made sense. He understood what it was like to have every second of your day planned out, to always have something you were supposed to be doing.

His eyes wandered towards the framed canvas hanging against one of the kitchen walls. He had always thought it might have come with the apartment, just like the furniture in his room, but when he took a closer look, there was a stamp with your initials on it. 

“Did you paint that one?” He asked, nodding towards it. 

Your gaze flickered to the painting, and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you mumbled. “Last summer break. It’s oil, so it took an eternity to dry. But, uh, the sun helped.”

He tilted his head back toward the painting. “Oh wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s so cool. Are the other ones yours, too?”

“Uh. Yeah,” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nodded again. “I was feeling…really inspired last year. And my brother got me oil paints for my birthday so I just painted. But we can take them off the walls if you don’t like them? I don’t mind, and you live here too, so you should also feel comfortable and if–”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckled, interrupting your rambling, and your gaze flickered up to his face before you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “It’s fine. I like them. It makes the apartment feel a bit homier. You’re really talented.” 

“I–,” you nodded again, and Sunghoon had to suppress a laugh. You suddenly seemed so flustered. 

“I never really had the chance to paint with oils before since they’re super expensive. But, uh, money well spent, I guess?”

He looked back at the paintings again, his gaze lingering for a moment. It was really well done. “They are really well done. You should think about selling them, Y/N. Not many people are able to do this.” 

You quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze. And then, you laughed. A weird, nervous little laugh, your cheeks flushing a bit.

“Oh, no, I mean–it’s just practice, really,” you blurted out, waving a hand in the air. “It’s not like–it’s not, like, some crazy talent or anything. It’s just… You do it enough, and it sort of, um, happens?”

“Still,” he said, amused now, “it’s really cool.”

You made a weird, stiff nod, then immediately picked up your water and took the smallest possible sip.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stepped into your apartment, shivering slightly at the cool air pressing against your skin. 

Sunghoon must have turned on the AC again. 

It was almost unbearably hot outside, the pavement heating up during the day and not cooling down even in the dark of the night, but inside, it was much colder. 

You never really liked using the AC too much; the temperature drop always left you uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind the cold. 

You placed your shoes neatly next to his by the door and stepped further into the cool apartment. The sound of the television playing in the background hummed through the air. Sunghoon was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, eyes focused on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, not really sure what to say, if you should say anything at all. You didn’t want to disturb Sunghoon and make him miss something in his show, but before you could decide, Sunghoon reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

His head turned toward you. “Hey.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Hi.”

He sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “How was work?”

You sighed and shrugged, making your way into the kitchen. “It was fine. Busier than usual.”

You and Sunghoon had somehow become something like friends during the last two weeks; it was nice having him around, filling the silence whenever it became unbearable, but also staying quiet when the world was a bit too loud.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed and nodded before pulling the freezer open and shuffling through the bags of frozen food. “It’s usually not that packed during summer shifts, but today was weirdly busy.” 

You found the familiar container of kolddugi muchim that you couldn’t stop thinking about all day, pulling it out underneath a bag of frozen broccoli Sunghoon had bought the day before. “At least Jaemin was there. It was fun with him.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze flicking back to the screen for a moment. “Who’s Jaemin?”

You hesitated slightly before standing up from the crouching position you were in. “My friend and coworker, I guess. He works the counter with me.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly. “You work with him a lot?”

The question made you frown a bit. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” he said, shrugging. “Just wondering. I’m just trying to keep on track with all of the names and people you tell me about.”

You nodded slowly before turning back to the counter to start defrosting your food. Your favourite pot was still in the dishwasher; it hadn’t been run today. There weren’t any new dishes in the sink either.

You hesitated for a second. 

“Have you eaten today?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Sunghoon looked at you, almost like he was caught off guard by the question. “Uh… no. I was too lazy to cook after I came from the gym, so I just had a protein shake.”

You frowned slightly. 

A protein shake was not a meal, especially not if he had been training today. 

You shifted your weight, debating for a second before clearing your throat. “Do you… Want some? I’m making kolddugi muchim and rice.”

His eyes lit up a little, his usual neutral expression shifting. “Oh, for sure. That sounds way better than another shake.”

With a nod, you turned back to the counter. “Okay.”  

Sunghoon stood up, stretching slightly. “Need help with anything?”

“Um,” you thought for a second, going through the list of things you might need. “Could you go to the GS25 down the street and get some mu kimchi? Only if it’s no trouble. I can go too.”

He waved you off, already grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

The apartment fell silent again as the door shut behind him.

You stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint dialogue from the drama still playing on TV. Then, shaking off the quiet, you turned back to the stove.

The scent of simmering garlic and gochugaru filled the air, thick and warm. It clung to the fabric of your clothes and seeped into the walls of the small kitchen. 

You closed your eyes for a second.

It smelled like home.

Like summer afternoons in the restaurant, your mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. The sharp tang of kimchi mingling with the sweetness of caramelised fish sauce. The distant sound of seagulls outside, the heavy heat of the South pressing against the window screens.

You exhaled, opening your eyes again.

It had been a while since you were home. 

You wanted to go home during the summer break, leave Seoul and all its stress behind for a couple of weeks, but then you were offered your internship and couldn’t go it. 

Swallowing the sudden ache, you focused on stirring the sauce, watching the deep red paste thicken over the heat. 

Cooking had always been something comforting, something familiar. 

You never saw yourself working in the restaurant after you finished high school, but you missed living by the sea, close to your family. 

Donghyuck had moved to Seoul a year after you did, and you were glad. He came to visit you a lot, claiming that he needed a break from seeing his roommate’s face from time to time, only to end up bringing Jeno along. He had been Donghyuck's best friend for so long, Jeno was basically your older brother as well, so it was a given that you cooked for him as well. 

The sound of the door being unlocked ripped you from your thoughts, and your head snapped up to watch Sunghoon step back inside the apartment, a small plastic bag in his hand. “Got it.”

“That was fast.”

He shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. “I have long legs.”

You glanced inside, pulling out the package of mu kimchi. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. “If you’re cooking for me, it’s the least I can do, Y/N.”

His eyes flicked to the stove. “It smells really good.”

“It’s my mom’s. She gives me containers of this stuff every time I visit home. Sometimes I have to eat kolddugi muchim for days after I’ve been home because it won’t fit into the freezer,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t complain about eating kolddugi muchim for days. If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll gladly help you eat some of the kolddugi muchim you can’t fit into the freezer.” Sunghoon grinned and reached up to grab two sets of plates and bowls from the cabinet. 

You just nodded and smiled at him while dropping the still slightly frozen baby octopus into your mom’s premade sauce. The sizzling of the pan was the only sound for a few moments. 

“I’ll go and turn off the TV. I’ll be right back,” Sunghoon said and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later, the music box he placed in the kitchen made a sound, and Sunghoon’s playlist hummed through the speakers, while you finished cooking.

Somehow, the two of you had picked designated seats at the kitchen table across from each other, so whenever the two of you had eaten together, there was no question who would be sitting where. 

You watched Sunghoon pile some of the baby octopus onto his plate. “It may be a bit spicy. I kinda put a lot of sauce in there. 

He just shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t mind the spice.”

“Okay,” you nodded, scooping some rice onto your spoon, trying to not obviously stare at him while he tried the food. 

His brows lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod. “This is good.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Really?”

He hummed. “Yeah. This is nice.”

A strange sense of relief settled in your chest. You took a small bite yourself, humming in delight when it did taste good. Not as good as if your mom made it freshly, but it was still good. 

You would have to call your mom later to thank her for cooking for you. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon stood outside your door, listening to the faint sound of music coming from inside. He knocked once, then again when you didn’t answer right away.

When he had opened up the fridge this morning, both your shelve and his shelve were almost empty. He knew you would be going grocery shopping today as well, so he figured he could just ask if you wanted to go together.

A few moments later, the door opened just enough for him to see you standing there, paint smudged on one sleeve.

“Hey,” he said, glancing past you into your room. “You busy?”

You turned slightly, following his gaze back to the canvas on your desk. “Um. Just painting.”

He took that in for a second. It looked like another food painting, if the bowl that was already finished was any indicator. The room itself was a little messy in the way yours always was when you were working, brushes, paper and tubes of paint spread out over your desk.

“Right,” he said, then leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I was gonna go grocery shopping for the week. Do you want to come with me?”

You looked at him like you were actually considering it, which made him wait instead of filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing back into your room before your shoulders shifted and you gave a small nod. “Okay. Give me like twenty minutes to get ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

You disappeared back into your room, and Sunghoon wandered over to the living room. He dropped onto the sofa and pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his TikTok while the apartment stayed quiet around him. Every now and then he glanced toward your room, half expecting to hear you rushing around, but there was only the soft thud of you closing your closet door and then nothing.

When you finally came out, he looked up almost automatically.

For a second he just stared.

Your hair was braided back neatly, the way it usually was, and you were wearing a white dress that fell loosely around you, soft and flowy. 

Sunghoon blinked once and sat up a little straighter. “You always braid your hair.”

You glanced at him, your lips pursed. “Yeah?”

He pushed himself off the sofa and tucked his phone into his pocket. “No, I mean. Always always. I don’t think I’ve seen it open more than like once.”

You shrugged lightly, already reaching for your keys. “I just prefer it that way.”

He hummed as he followed you to the door, though he couldn’t stop looking at the braid. It was neat, simple. “Doesn’t it get annoying to braid every day?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Sunghoon let out a small breath through his nose, stepping out into the hallway after you. “I think you should leave it open; it’s pretty.”

You just hummed, keeping your face turned away from him. He knew there were certain things you didn’t like talking about, shutting down conversations before they could even begin, and apparently your hair was one of them. Sunghoon shook his head as the two of you started down the stairs together. 

It was hot outside, the kind of heat that clung to your skin the second you stepped out of the building, and Sunghoon immediately regretted not waiting until later in the evening.

“It is so stupidly hot,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Why does Seoul have to feel like the inside of an oven in summer?”

You glanced at him, then back ahead. “It’s not that bad.”

He turned to look at you, offended. “What do you mean, not that bad?”

You gave the faintest shrug. “It’s warm.”

“Warm?” he repeated. “This is not warm. This is hostile.”

That got the smallest hint of a smile out of you, and he caught it just long enough to feel mildly satisfied with himself.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The grocery store wasn’t far, but by the time you got there, Sunghoon’s t-shirt was drenched. You walked beside him without complaining once, hands relaxed at your sides, braid resting between your shoulder blades.

The doors to the store opened, and when the two of you stepped inside, Sunghoon sighed in relief, the cold from the AC washing over his body as he got a cart for the two of you. He steered the two of you deeper into the supermarket, one hand resting loosely on the handle while the other occasionally reached out to grab something from the shelves without really stopping.

You stayed beside him, quiet in the way you usually were when you were thinking, eyes moving over the rows of products without lingering anywhere for too long. 

“Wait,” you said, stopping the cart when you passed the oatmeal section. “I think mine are almost done.”

Sunghoon hummed and followed you inside the aisle.

“I was thinking of getting these for the week,” you said, squatting down and grabbing a flashy box. 

He hummed, reaching for it, reading the front of the package when you handed it to him.

It was a white oat, fruits and nuts mix.

“Which one do you usually buy?”

You shrugged. “Just the plain one.”

He made a face when he turned the box around in his hands. “You should get the protein one.”

You looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because it has more energy,” he said, pointing at the nutrition table on the back with a fingertip. “And better ingredients. See?”

He held the package out a little so you could look at it, before grabbing the one brand Wonyoung always raved about. “You said you’ve been feeling tired all the time; maybe you need some more protein. That helped a friend of mine, and she really likes that one.”

You reached forward, and your fingers closed around the cardboard before you turned it around once, then twice,  before nodding and tossing it into the cart.

The two of you continued down the aisle, casually stacking more things into the cart. He kept filling his own side with random food. Rice, vegetables, eggs, protein drinks, a few snacks. 

Your side looked different, a lot more specific. You spent a lot more time deciding between products, pondering the different choices, checking the list on your phone, checking the boxes whenever you added something to the cart.

He glanced at your list at some point and then at you. “Do you shop the same stuff every week?”

You looked up from your phone. “Most of the time, yeah.”

“That sounds boring.”

You gave a small shrug. “It’s not bad. There are a lot of things I can cook with that.”

“You mean loads of things you can drown in gochujang?”

You didn’t answer that, just moved to the next shelf and reached for another bar of dark chocolate. Sunghoon watched you for a second before stepping closer and taking one of the protein bars from the shelf.

“You should get these too,” he said, holding it out. “They’re good.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your hand, scanning the front before flipping it around to the back. You read the label for a second longer this time. 

He watched you drop it towards your side of the cart before you put the dark chocolate back into the shelf. 

The second you stepped into the frozen aisle, you started shivering, wrapping your arms around your body, while you followed him, so Sunghoon just grabbed a few packs of chicken breast off the shelf and dropped them into the cart one after another.

You glanced down at the pile of them, then back at him. “What are you gonna eat that with?”

He looked over his shoulder. “No idea.”

You blinked. “You just eat it plain?”

He gave you a look like that was a stupid question. “Most of the time, yeah.”

That made you hum softly to yourself, more thoughtful than amused, and you reached into the freezer case beside you before he could say anything else. A bag of frozen broccoli went into the cart, then another pack of vegetables, then some carrots.

Sunghoon looked down at what you were adding. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m keeping my end of the deal, and I won’t let you eat plain chicken.” 

He laughed at that, short and warm, and shook his head a little. “You wanna cook for me?”

You glanced at him, already reaching for another bag. “Well, yes. You’re the one paying. I’ll be the one cooking for the both of us. It’s convenient if we don’t get the kitchen dirty multiple times a day.”

That made him laugh again, a little louder this time, and he nodded once. “Fair.”

After a beat, you reached into the freezer again and added another pack of mixed vegetables to his side of the cart. He looked down at it, then at you.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said.

You hummed. “You’re paying.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re enabling my laziness by cooking for me. How am I supposed to learn how to cook?”

“If you only want to cook, feel free. I won’t be stopping you.”

“I never said I don’t want to cook.”

“You did imply it.”

He gave you a long look, then broke into another grin and nodded once. “Okay, maybe I did.”

You were already looking away again, focused on the shelf in front of you, but the corner of his mouth stayed tilted up as he kept pushing the cart.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You left the grocery store with more bags than Sunghoon had expected. He had ended up carrying most of them, insisting you took the smaller bags, ignoring how you complained about him thinking you were weak. Considering you asked him to open bottles sometimes, he was sure you would have handed him the heavy bags anyway. 

The heat outside hit Sunghoon like a wall. He hated it: the warmth, the sweat and the clammy feeling all over his body that came with it. Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shifting the bags higher in his grip.

“God, it’s still disgusting out here,” he muttered.

You only hummed, apparently unaffected in a way that made him feel slightly betrayed by his own body. The two of you were chatting, talking about nothing and everything while walking back to your apartment complex, before you went quiet for a moment. 

“Can we stop by the flower shop?”

He turned his head. “The one you always talk about?”

You nodded. “If it’s okay.”

He shrugged, though the bags in his hands made the movement awkward. “Yeah, sure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bell over the door chimed when the two of you stepped inside. 

It smelled like water, leaves, and something soft he couldn’t quite place. Flowers lined the narrow room in neat clusters, some already wrapped and waiting near the counter, others still standing in buckets along the floor and tables.

The woman behind the counter looked up immediately and smiled when she saw you. “Y/N,” she said warmly, “what a lovely surprise.”

You brightened a little, your face easing in a way Sunghoon had never seen before. It was pretty. 

“Hi.”

She came around the counter, hands wiping briefly against her apron before she reached for one of the buckets near the front. “You haven’t been here in a while. I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Work has been a bit much,” you admitted, shifting the bag in your arms.

The woman made a sympathetic noise and then glanced toward Sunghoon, her eyebrows raised, as she looked back towards you. "And who is this?”

You turned slightly. “Oh, this is Sunghoon. He’s my roommate.”

Sunghoon gave her a polite little bow, suddenly feeling nervous about making a bad impression. You and the lady seemed close. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

Her expression softened instantly, as if the bow had been the correct answer to some invisible test. “Roommate,” she repeated, then looked at you again with a knowing sort of smile. “So you do have company at home now.”

You blinked at her, and Sunghoon noticed the red creeping up your neck. “Ajumma.”

She ignored that completely and waved a hand at the flowers. “Come, come. Let me show you what I have today.”

You followed her deeper into the shop, Sunghoon trailing after you a little awkwardly with the grocery bags still in hand. The woman moved around the buckets, looking for something specific, before lifting out flowers one by one and holding them toward you.

“These are lovely today,” she said, showing you a handful of blooms with pale petals that were slightly open already. “Not the freshest ones, but the shape is still very nice.”

Sunghoon frowned a little as he watched you take them in your hands and turn them gently from side to side. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected you to reach for the brightest, newest ones. Instead, your attention seemed to settle on the flowers that looked a little less perfect, the ones with petals that had started to curl at the edges or lean slightly to one side.

"Why not buy fresh ones today, my child?" She asked, handing you another battered-looking one. "I got some beautiful tulips just this morning."

You looked up at that, then smiled a little sheepishly. “I think they’re also pretty.”

The woman shook her head fondly. “You and your strange taste."

You adjusted the flowers in your hands and gave a small shrug. “I like the ones that no one else would pick; you would throw them out anyway. And even if they just live for a day in my kitchen, at least they got some love, Ajumma. I'm sure someone will buy the tulips.”

The woman’s expression softened at that, and for a moment she just looked at you with more love and care in her eyes than a stranger should have for their customer. Then she let out a quiet hum and started wrapping the stems in paper.

You smiled, small and pleased, and Sunghoon had the strange feeling that he was seeing a piece of you that didn’t usually show itself anywhere else. Not at the apartment, not at the store, not when you were quietly making tea or sitting beside him on the sofa. 

The woman finished tying the bouquet and pressed it into your hands with the kind of care that felt almost maternal. “There. These suit you better than the tulips would anyway.”

You looked down at the flowers, then up at her with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said immediately, as if the thanks were unnecessary. “And don’t wait so long before coming again. Your face looks tired.”

“Ajumma,” you said again, but this time it was gentler.

She only waved you off. “Go home, eat properly, and come back soon."

“I will,” you promised.

Then the two of you stepped back outside, the flowers held carefully against your chest while Sunghoon adjusted the grocery bags again. You glanced down at the bouquet, then up at him, and there was a small smile pulling at your mouth.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon had just finished mixing his protein shake when he heard keys jingle and the front door swing open.

He frowned, setting the shaker bottle down. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. It wasn’t even 4 p.m. Had your class ended early? 

Still, he greeted you out of habit. “Hey, Y/N–”

But the person standing in the doorway was definitely not you.

Sunghoon froze. The guy in the doorway froze, too.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, equally confused.

Sunghoon slowly lowered his shaker bottle. Who the hell–

“Uh…” the guy started, blinking a few times like he was trying to process the situation. Then, he pointed at Sunghoon. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No,” Sunghoon said flatly. “I’m not.”

The guy frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Then… who are you?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “I live here. Who are you?”

The guy’s face shifted as realisation dawned on him. His confusion melted into something amused.

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. Then, he grinned and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m Donghyuck. Nice to meet you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait.

Donghyuck, as in your boyfriend Donghyuck?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward the fridge before he could stop himself. The slightly curled postcard from Busan hung beside a few photos he had found himself staring at more than once in the past month. Donghyuck was in a lot of them. Always close to you, arms slung around your shoulders, laughing together.

Sunghoon quickly cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. I’m Sunghoon.”

Donghyuck hummed, already toeing off his sneakers. “Is Y/N still at class?” He dropped his bag by the door and strolled toward the kitchen.

Sunghoon, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, hesitated before answering. “Uh… yeah? She usually gets home around 4:30. Sometimes a bit earlier.”

Donghyuck nodded, completely unfazed. “Alright, cool.”

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he reached into a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Sunghoon nearly choked on air.

“What?” He spun around so fast that he nearly knocked over his protein shake.

Donghyuck just shrugged, sipping his water like this was a completely normal conversation. “Y/N didn’t tell me she was seeing someone. Or, well… seeing someone seriously enough to let him move in with her.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. What. The. Hell.

“I hope it’s been at least half a year and you didn’t just sweet-talk her into letting you move in after, like, two months.” Donghyuck narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why–why would I be Y/N’s boyfriend?” Sunghoon blurted.

Isn’t Donghyuck the boyfriend?! What was happening?

The other gave him a look. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just said you live here.”

“Yeah, because I’m her roommate,” Sunghoon said, still trying to process this conversation. “I pay rent and shit to be here.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Wait. You’re her roommate?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gestured vaguely at the apartment. “What else would I be?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, considering. Then he shrugged. “I dunno, her boyfriend?”

Sunghoon let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Dude, I thought you were her boyfriend.”

Donghyuck burst out laughing.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, nah.” He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m her brother.”

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Brother.

Oh. Okay.

Now that he really looked, Donghyuck did have similar features to you. 

Your brother just grinned, clearly entertained by the situation. “Damn, you really thought we were dating? Siblings dating seems pretty weird, doesn’t it, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon groaned, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t–”

Donghyuck cackled.

Before Sunghoon could come up with something to say, the front door suddenly swung open again.

“Oh my god,” your voice rang through the apartment, full of surprise and excitement. “Hyuck?!”

Sunghoon turned his head just in time to see you practically launch yourself at your brother. Donghyuck barely had time to put down his glass before you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming! I thought you were still at home!” You grinned up at him, eyes shining.

Donghyuck ruffled your hair like it. “I wanted to surprise you. Taeyong packed you a snack box from home. Mom and Johnny’s Mom added some stuff too. You know, since you can’t come home.”

Your face lit up. “No way.”

Donghyuck smirked. “Way.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, just watched as you glowed with excitement.

But before he could fully process how different you looked right now, so happy, so genuinely overjoyed, Donghyuck turned to you with an easy grin.

“So…” He dragged out the word, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Your expression twisted in confusion. “What?”

Donghyuck jerked his thumb toward Sunghoon. “You didn’t tell me you were dating your roommate.”

You were silent for a beat. 

Then, your entire face went red.

Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you from where he stood.

“What?” you repeated, blinking rapidly.

Donghyuck just smirked, clearly enjoying this. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” He gestured toward Sunghoon, who was just standing there like an idiot.

Your eyes darted towards him like you were expecting him to say something, but Sunghoon’s brain was still buffering.

Because all he could think about was how genuinely happy you had looked when you saw Donghyuck.

So expressive. So open.

The way your face had lit up, the way your voice had lifted into something bright and completely unfiltered. It was cute. And, selfishly, Sunghoon wondered why.

Why did you always hold back a little around him? The small, bashful smiles, the careful responses. Was he that intimidating? He was trying so hard to get to know you, to be a good roommate who would turn into a friend. 

“We’re not dating.” Sunghoon finally managed, his voice a little more rushed than intended. “I’m just her roommate.”

You exhaled, pressing your hands to your very red cheeks. “Yes. He’s my roommate.”

Donghyuck raised a brow, clearly not convinced.

“Right,” he said slowly, crossing his arms. “So you just let random guys move in with you now?”

“I didn’t–it’s not–,” You groaned. “It’s a long story.”

Sunghoon, for some reason, felt the need to defend himself. “It’s not weird, okay? We barely even knew each other when I moved in. You don’t have to worry about us dating or anything.”

Donghyuck snorted. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. 

You groaned again, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Mr Kang is renting the second room to Sunghoon.”

“No way. Your studio?” Donghyuck asked and looked at Sunghoon as if he had personally had the intention to steal your studio from you. 

“Yeah. It’s all right, though. I always knew he could rent it out to someone who will show up,” you leaned against the counter next to Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck was still looking at Sunghoon, but his facial expression had changed from accusation to something that looked like interest.

“Anyway,” he said, focusing back on you, “Do you wanna open the package? I am praying that Johnny put in some of those dope cookies from the bakery under his office. If he did, I am claiming one-half.”

At that, your face brightened again, and Sunghoon caught himself watching the shift in your expression again. 

The way your eyes widened, the slight bounce in your stance, the way you leaned in just a little closer to Donghyuck.

Your brother unzipped the bag and pulled out a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it on the counter with a slight thud.

Your hands were already on the tape, peeling it open. “You had four weeks to eat the cookies from ppangjib. You get one. Or maybe two."

Donghyuck grinned. “Deal.”

Sunghoon, though still a little confused by the whole situation, couldn’t help but glance into the box as you pulled back the flaps. Inside were neatly packed bags of homemade snacks, a few small wrapped gifts, and a handwritten letter sitting on top.

You immediately grabbed the letter, unfolding it with the kind of excitement that was usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

While you skimmed it, Donghyuck reached into the box and pulled out a small bag of yakgwa, grinning. “Oh, sick. Mom made you some yakgwa.”

“No way.” You grabbed the bag from him, grinning just as wide.

Sunghoon glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen door. 

Shit.

He had to get to training.

With a sigh, he grabbed his shaker bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“I gotta head out.” 

You looked up from the letter. "Oh, right! You have training tonight.”

He nodded, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to eat something later, or will you eat somewhere else?” Your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him, and Sunghoon had to suddenly swallow dryly before being able to answer. 

“I’ll eat with the others, thank you, Y/N." He nodded at your brother. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. Have a nice evening, you two.”

Donghyuck, already chewing on a piece of yakgwa, gave him a lazy salute. “Have fun, man.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh before turning toward the door. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bus stop was already fuller than you had hoped for.

You slowed when you got close, eyes briefly flicking over the small crowd waiting in the rain. Uni had already been enough on its own, and the thought of standing around in the wet for the next ten minutes did not exactly improve your mood.

With a sigh, you lined up behind a girl who was fully immersed in her phone, not looking up even when the line moved forward slightly. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and found Sunghoon a few steps away, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

“Oh,” you said, a little flatly before you could stop yourself. “Hi.”

He gave you a small smile and stepped closer, shielding you from the rain by holding his umbrella over your head. For a second, neither of you said anything.

It was not exactly awkward in a bad way. 

Just quiet. 

Sunghoon glanced at you once before looking back at the road. “You got work later?”

You nodded, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah.”

He hummed. “Do you want me to cook then?”

That made you look at him. “You can if you want to?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ve wanted to try out a dish Wonyoung recommended. She’s been hyping it up for weeks now.”

“Wonyoung?” You asked, trying not to sound too curious. Sunghoon often talked about one of his girl space friends, but this was the first time he had mentioned a name. 

“She’s one of the skaters I train with, and she’s pretty strict about her diet and eating healthy. She’s also the one that recommended the oatmeal I made you buy,” Sunghoon hummed and gave you a small smile. “Yours is empty, right? I’m gonna go grocery shopping before cooking. I could buy you some before you run out?”

“Oh,” you blinked once, a little caught off guard by how normal that sounded now. Apparently that was just what you were doing these days. Just cooking and buying groceries together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you said after a second, and then, a little quieter, “Thanks.”

He only nodded, like it was no big deal.

When the bus finally came, the two of you ended up standing through most of the ride, holding onto the railings and swaying slightly whenever the bus turned. 

By the time your stop came up, you were both more than ready to get off.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet at first, Sunghoon holding his umbrella above both your heads, trying his best to keep you dry. 

After a while, you glanced over at him. “How was your day?”

Sunghoon let out a small, humourless breath through his nose before answering. “Shit, honestly.”

You looked at him a little more closely. “Really?”

He nodded once, jaw tightening slightly. “This whole week’s been shit.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He looked ahead again and shrugged. “Coach is on my ass. Everything feels off. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get back on track for nationals at this point.”

His voice was flatter than usual, but there was frustration under it, thick enough that you could hear it anyway. He sounded genuinely upset, not just annoyed in the dramatic way he sometimes was when he complained about training.

You hesitated for a second, then said, “I’m sure you’ve been doing well.”

That got a quiet laugh out of him, though it did not sound amused. He shook his head slightly and looked over at you. “You haven’t seen me skate.”

You blinked, then shrugged one shoulder. “I know how much you train.”

He gave you a look at that, something tired and a little resigned in it. “Training a lot doesn’t mean I’m doing well.”

You frowned a little, looking down at the pavement as you walked. “Still. You’re probably doing better than you think.”

Sunghoon huffed again, but there was less edge to it now. “You know,” he said casually, “you should come to one of my competitions sometime.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “Your competitions?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slightly. “There you could see me skate properly and then think about if I really am doing better than I think.”

You gave him a little smile. “I’ll think about it. I am sure you’re amazing on the ice, dear roommate.”

That made him smile, too.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The cold had come quickly this year, creeping into your apartment and into your room. 

You had spent your day at uni freezing and had been looking forward to just curling up on the sofa or your bed until you fell asleep. Sunghoon had picked up training for his competition, so it was almost rare that you got to see him during the evenings, but today he had been at home when you opened the front door. 

He was studying at the kitchen table, his hair held up by one of his hair bands and a thick pair of glasses on his nose. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, peeling your boots off your feet with your fingers stiff from the cold. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he gave you a tired look, glancing up from his iPad.

“Don’t you have training today?” Your coat was wet from the rain, so you spread it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry before dropping your bag on top of it. 

Sunghoon sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “They are doing some checks with the building, and we aren’t allowed inside, so no.”

“Oh,” you hummed, moving into the kitchen to heat up some water. “You don’t sound happy about that?” 

He huffed and shrugged. “I wanted to train today. I still feel like shit about not being able to land my combo when I was able to before the summer break. I was off the ice for like two weeks, and it’s just gone.” 

“Because of the break?” 

"Yeah." Sunghoon nodded and watched as you got out your favourite mug. “That happens sometimes and is super annoying. If you lose a jump, you usually need double the time to relearn it again.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to get it again?” 

Sunghoon shrugged again and let his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. “Yeah, it will just take time.” 

You hummed and watched the kettle rattle as it brought the water for your tea to a boil. 

"Y/N", he lifted his head, “a few of my friends want to come over and check out the apartment. Is that fine with you? I know you’ve got work tomorrow, but I promise we’ll keep it down when you want to head to bed.”

You smiled, the question barely making you think. “Oh, that's not a problem, Sunghoon. You live here, too. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from having friends over.” 

He relaxed at your response, the tension in his posture easing as he gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’ll let them know we’ll keep it low-key.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “No worries. You do you.” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Just don’t be too loud around midnight. I haven’t really had parties here, so I don’t know if our neighbours are cool with noise or not?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “You can come hang out later. If you want to. We’re gonna order pizza. I know you don’t do lactose or gluten, but if you want a piece just…you know join us?”

You nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small wave. “Ah. Uhm. Thanks. But I think I’m good. I’ll go to sleep soon anyway.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You did, in fact, not go to sleep soon. 

It was almost eleven, and you were still reading, curled up in your duvet, a low light illuminating the room slightly. Your stomach had started growling a while back, and the more you tried to ignore it, the more urgent your hunger got. 

With a long and annoyed sigh, you kicked the duvet off and begrudgingly put your book away before you stood up from your bed. 

You hesitated for a moment when you reached your door. 

Sunghoon and his friends were in the living room, playing something on the switch Sunghoon had brought with him when he moved in, so you would have to pass by them if you wanted to get to the kitchen.

You were wearing a pair of loose joggers and one of your brother's hoodies that he forgot at your apartment that you never bothered to return, so you were definitely not dressed for guests, let alone Sunghoon’s friends. But your stomach growled again, making you push the handle down and step into the hallway. 

The laughter grew louder the closer you got to the living room. As soon as you entered, four pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

“Oh, hey!” one of them greeted you, giving you a smile, while his car came to a stop. “You must be Y/N.”

“Oh, uh–hi,” you said, your voice coming out slightly too high.

Sunghoon grinned at you. “This is Jay, Heeseung, and Jake,” he said, nodding toward each of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, abandoning his character as well. “Dude, your apartment is so nice,” he said. “Did you decorate it by yourself?”

You blinked. “Uh–what?”

“The apartment,” he repeated, still smiling. “It looks really good.”

“Oh! Um–yeah, I did?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, I just… put some things together. I like interior stuff, so…”

“Man, Sunghoon lucked out,” Jay said, shaking his head. “My first roommate had, like, one folding chair and a mattress on the floor.”

“Hey!?” Heeseung said and turned to Jay, “I was your first roommate?”

“Yeah. And we have been living in our dorm for 3 years now. The only reason why we have a decent apartment now is that your mom insisted on helping decorate it,” Jay deadpanned. “And the main piece of decoration in your room is your keyboard shrine.” 

Jake and Sunghoon snorted while Heeseung tried to defend himself: ”I asked her for help because you wouldn’t stop complaining, you stupid piece of shit.”

“See, I am really happy to have Y/N as my roommate. She has rugs and decorations. And a normal amount of keyboards.” Sunghoon grinned at you. “She is even painting the paintings to fit the vibe of our apartment.” 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. He just grinned.

“Did you paint all of them?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Mostly last summer.”

“Damn,” Jake said, shaking his head. “That’s sick. I can barely draw a stick figure.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you.”

Before you could recover, Sunghoon gestured toward the pizza box. “Are you hungry? We ordered way too much.”

“Oh–no, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I was just going to warm up something from the fridge.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I swear this is so much, and we are all supposed to watch over our diets. You’d be doing a good thing by eating a slice or two,” Jake said before stealing a gummy bear from Jay.

“Maybe just one slice?” You mumbled.

Jake’s smile widened. “Sure, take as many as you want.”

He slid a plate toward you, and you shuffled over, still feeling painfully awkward. You perched on the arm of the couch next to Sunghoon, back stiff.

Your roommate glanced up at you, giving you a smile. “Have you finished your book?”

You hummed and took the plate Jake offered you, shaking your head. “Thank you, Jake. Almost? I need like three or four chapters. I’ll definitely finish it today.” 

“So you’re going to read your vampire book?” Sunghoon teased. He had read the back of it and had been making fun of you ever since. 

“No,” you took a bite and swallowed before continuing, watching the TV as they started another round of Mario Kart. “I’ll be waiting until Halloween. I have the morning shift, so I’ll have the whole evening to finish it.” 

“Are you not gonna party on Halloween?” Heeseung asked, not taking his eyes from the TV. 

You frowned, shrugging. “Not really? I’ve not been invited to any parties? And aside from that, I’m not really someone who goes to parties.” 

“You’re just using that as an excuse to stay in bed to read your vampire steamy book, or what did you call it?” Sunghoon teased again, nudging your thigh with his shoulder. “I never thought you’d be one of those girls, Y/N.”

You felt heat rushing up your neck, your cheeks flushing, but before you could defend yourself, Jay already came to your aid. 

ne,” he glanced at Sunghoon and regretted it mere seconds after, driving off the road. “Fuck.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” your roommate grinned.

Your stomach dropped at the words.

It was stupid, really. 

He had only been teasing. 

You knew that, but somehow it felt weird.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the plate, and forced a small laugh through your nose before you looked back at the TV. 

It was suddenly too loud in the room, too warm, too bright. 

You could feel your pulse in your throat, fast and annoying, and every second that passed made you more aware of yourself.

Sunghoon shifted beside you.

He must have noticed the change in your mood, because when you glanced at him for half a second, he was already looking at you. 

Not teasing, just watching. 

His expression softened the moment he saw your face.

You looked away instantly.

No. No, it was fine. It was nothing.

He didn’t say anything right away, but the apology in his eyes was obvious enough that it made your chest tighten worse. He probably realised he had pushed too far.

It was all right. Nothing had happened; he didn’t mean it in a bad way. 

You took another bite of pizza just so you would have something to do with your mouth, but it didn’t help. Not even a little. Your stomach felt weirdly hollow and too full at the same time, and you kept your face angled toward the TV while your entire body screamed at you to get up and leave before you embarrassed yourself any further.

Heeseung glanced between you and Sunghoon, clearly catching something in the air. For a second, the room went a little quieter, the game noises continuing in the background.

Then Heeseung spoke.

“Actually,” he said, a little more carefully now, “do you maybe want to give partying one more try?”

You looked over at him, caught off guard.

His expression was gentle, not pushy. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I mean, instead of spending Halloween alone reading by yourself.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“There’s gonna be a big Halloween party hosted by the swimmers,” Jake said from the floor, spinning his controller between his fingers. “You could come. If you don’t want to go alone, you can bring a friend too. Just tell the guards we invited you; they’ll know.”

You blinked at that. “A friend?”

He nodded. “Sure. If that makes it less weird.”

“Or safer,” Jay added, not looking at you but clearly trying to help in the least aggressive way possible. “Whatever works.”

You glanced down at your plate, your fingers suddenly very aware around the rim. The room was still buzzing with the game, but your pulse had not slowed.

You forced your shoulders to stay loose.

“I don’t know,” you said, and tried very hard for the words to sound normal. “I’m just… not really into parties.”

Jake nodded immediately, as he understood. “That’s fair.”

“But,” Heeseung said, still soft, “you don’t have to be into parties to come to one once.”

You hesitated.

“I haven’t been to one in forever,” you admitted, which was worse than saying no because now it sounded like a confession.

Jake’s face brightened a little, not in a mocking way, more like he had heard a challenge he wanted to win. “Then it’s definitely time.”

“No pressure,” Heeseung added quickly when you didn’t answer right away. “Seriously. But if you want to try it, we’ll look out for you.”

Jake leaned back and grinned at you. “Think about it, yeah?”

You nodded once.

Heeseung smiled, gentler than before. “And seriously, you can bring a friend if you want. No pressure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Except that it was pressure, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. 

So the next day, Jaemin immediately noticed that something was off the second you clocked in. “Okay, spill.”

You frowned, wrapping your apron around your waist. “What?”

“You look weird. A bit constipated. What are you thinking so deeply about? 

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s nothing.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

You exhaled, already knowing you weren’t going to get away with it. “Sunghoon’s friends came over last night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The hockey players?”

You blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”

At the same time, you weren’t really surprised. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything and everyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly.

“Just a gut feeling", he grinned. “Tell me more.”

You sighed, opening the door towards the main room of the cinema. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just came over to see the apartment and hang out with Sunghoon. I ran into them when I went to the kitchen.”

“And?” Jaemin prompted, eyes gleaming with interest. 

“And… they were nice,” you admitted. “They complimented the apartment and–” you hesitated, then added reluctantly, “my paintings.”

Jaemin gasped dramatically. “The beautiful paintings that are all over your apartment that everyone compliments? No way!”

You rolled your eyes. “Jaemin.”

“What? Am I lying?” he shrugged, grinning at you.

You groaned, covering your face. “Can you leave me alone?”

Jaemin cackled. “No.”

You shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. In fact, you love me enough to schedule your shift so they’d clash with mine and we have even more time to hang out," he said, waving a hand. “So what happened afterwards? Just meeting them wouldn’t make you this thoughtful.”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “They… invited me to their Halloween party.”

Jaemin froze.

His expression went from shocked to utterly gobsmacked in less than a second. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Wait, like, the swimmers' Halloween party?”

“I think?”

He gawked at you. “You think? Y/N, do you even realise how exclusive those are?” He leaned in. “You have to know people to get in or be important enough to be invited.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… I know people now?”

Jaemin smacked your arm lightly. “Oh my god, this is huge.”

“It’s really not. They even offered that I could bring a friend.”

“Oh, my god.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have to take me with you.”

You groaned. “Jaemin–”

“Please.” His eyes widened. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’d be insane not to go.”

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know… I feel like I’d just be awkward.”

Jaemin softened slightly. “You might. But you might also have fun.”

You sighed.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you,” he promised. “I swear.”

You hesitated before finally mumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear. We’re going,” he said, gripping your wrist.

You groaned. “Jaemin.”

“Please.” His eyes widened dramatically. “Do you even understand what this means? This is like–like being invited to the Met Gala of frat parties.”

You gave him a look. “You are so dramatic.”

“Am I?” He scoffed. “Y/N, do you realise how hard it is to get into one of these? And you got invited. You!” He clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped. “Not that big of a deal? Y/N, if I had even breathed in the direction of these parties before, I would’ve been escorted out.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If not even Jaemin had been invited to one of these parties, they probably were a big thing. Johnny was always talking about how he enjoyed going to parties. You loved hearing his and Taeyong's stories every time they came home. 

They did romanticise uni life a bit in your opinion. 

Or maybe you were just doing something wrong. 

Maybe you could try going to that party.  

Jaemin's face softened slightly. “Look,” he said, “I get it. Big parties aren’t your thing. And, yeah, it might be overwhelming at first. But, Y/N, you deserve to have fun.”

“I do have fun,” you muttered.

Jaemin gave you a knowing look. “Working, studying, and just being in your apartment alone all the time doesn’t count.”

You sighed.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he promised. “I swear. I won’t ditch you. But at least try.”

You hesitated, staring at the counter, before finally mumbling, “…Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin grinned as he had already won. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Pushing open the door to your apartment felt like trying to push an elephant out of the way. Your arms were heavy, your brain was pulsing against your skull, and your eyes threatened to fall closed any second now. Somehow your shift at the cinema had been horrible today; it had been loud and hot and entirely overwhelming, so the only thing you wanted to do was to sleep.

But today was Halloween, and you had promised Jaemin and Sunghoon you would go to that stupid party. 

Part of you, a very loud and insistent part of you, wanted to just cancel, tell them that you were too exhausted to go, that you were having a migraine, but another part wanted to go, almost desperately. 

You knew they were right, Johnny, Taeyong, Jaemin, hell, even Sunghoon and his friends. You should try going out more, living life, meeting people, and experiencing things you would usually avoid; it was part of growing up, of living. 

But it was hard. You hated crowds, you hated parties, and you hated being perceived, and that Halloween party would definitely get you to be perceived, especially with your stupid costume.

Somehow Sunghoon and Jaemin, who had almost immediately started forming a coalition against you as soon as you introduced them, convinced you to dress up as one of the puppets from Squid Game. 

With a sigh, you peeled off your shoes and made a beeline straight to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, hoping you would feel better after a nap.

About two hours later, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed. Your head was still heavy, a constant throb beneath your temples. 

You could feel your nerves creeping up as you walked out of your room, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sunghoon.” 

Your roommate was standing in the bathroom, the door open, as he styled his hair in the mirror. 

He flinched at your voice, and his eyes flickered to your figure standing in the doorway. “Hi, Y/N. Are you good? You look tired.”

You hummed, leaning against the wooden frame. “My head is pounding. I think I have a migraine coming.”

Sunghon frowned, turning around to look at you properly. “Do you want to eat? Maybe it will get better if you get some food into your system."

“I’ve eaten,” you said, pursing your lips and shrugging. “Jaemin and I ate bibimbap during our lunch break, so my stomach is still pretty full, but I think I’ll take an ibuprofen. Sometimes it helps with the migraines.”

“It has been a while since you had your last one," Sunghoon stated, pushing away from the sink, moving towards and past you into the hallway. “Do you think you’ll be able to go to the party? If you’re not feeling well, you should stay home, Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I'll just leave earlier?”

"Sure, that’s no worries." He moved towards his room before coming back, holding up white face paint. You smiled, though it was still a little tight around the edges. Sunghoon caught your glance and, after a moment of silence, his expression softened into something more reassuring. 

“Come on, it’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll get there, and we’ll just hang out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

You gave a reluctant nod, grateful for his words. You stretched out, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The moment you stepped into the house, the overwhelming mix of loud music, sweaty bodies, and flashing lights hit you all at once. The air smelled like alcohol, something vaguely fruity, and whatever cologne the guy who just stumbled past you had drenched himself in.

You were already regretting this.

You had been holding it together on the walk over, but now that you were actually inside, the migraine that had been sitting at the edge of your skull all evening seemed to sharpen all at once. The lights flashing across the room made your eyes sting, and the noise in your ears felt like it was pressing in from every direction.

Sunghoon was right beside you, guiding you deeper into the house with a hand hovering near your back so you didn’t lose him in the crowd. You kept your arms close to your body and did your best not to brush against anyone.

Before you could fully orient yourself, a voice cut through the music.

“Y/N!”

You barely had time to turn before Jake came crashing into you, arms thrown around your middle in a hug that was far too enthusiastic for your current state. You froze immediately.

Everything in you tensed.

Your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides while he rocked you a little, laughing into your shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he slurred happily. “I knew you’d come! I told Sunghoon you were gonna come!”

You stared past him, looking for Sunghoon without even meaning to.

He was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a grin that was way too amused. You glared at him in silent betrayal.

He only smiled wider.

Hesitantly, you lifted one hand and gave Jake a few awkward pats on the back. He seemed delighted by that and finally let go.

Jay appeared a second later. He didn’t tackle you, thankfully. He just gave you a quick half-hug.

“Glad you came,” he said, easy and warm.

You managed a small nod.

“Uh. Yeah,” you said faintly. “Thanks.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon was leaning against the sofa, half-listening to Jay argue with Jake about their next beer pong shot. His own cup sat untouched beside him. 

He was pacing himself, knowing he had practice tomorrow. 

His coach was already on him for falling last week, so he didn’t want to even try his luck and skate hungover. The music thumped through the house, bass vibrating beneath his feet, and the heat of too many bodies in a small space was starting to get to him.

If he was completely honest, parties weren’t his thing either. Sure, he’d come along if he got invited, and it was fun most of the time, but he wasn’t as crazy as his friends. He didn’t understand how the hockey players were doing all of this after every game; his coach would kill him if he knew Sunghoon was drinking.

Sunghoon glanced over the table, watching you and Jaemin talk to a small group of baseball players. 

He knew some of them from other parties or sports events but never really got around to getting to know any of them closely. 

He watched as one of them, a little taller than the rest, leaned in slightly while talking to you.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure why, but something about it made his jaw tighten as he saw you taking a slight step back, your smile reverting back to the small, reserved ones you always had when you were uncomfortable or felt especially shy. 

He hadn’t seen that in quite a while now, but it hadn’t left your face all evening.

The way you moved and glanced around made it clear that you weren’t too happy with the situation, and Sunghoon felt guilty. He knew he should have convinced you to stay at home when he saw you step out of your room, your face pale and your hair flattened from your nap. He knew you wouldn’t like being here, and he was sure the sound and the stuffy air inside the house weren’t helping your migraine get any better.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, setting his cup down on the beerping table with a soft thud. He didn’t know if he was overthinking things, but he did promise you to help you out if you needed an out. So he slowly started making his way toward you. Sunghoon had barely taken a step toward you when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Park,” a familiar voice drawled.

He turned to see Hyunjin, one of the more senior skaters. Despite the loud music and chaotic energy of the party, Hyunjin looked as relaxed as ever, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Haven’t seen you drink much,” Hyunjin noted, tilting his own half-empty cup toward Sunghoon. “You’re really out here being responsible?”

Sunghoon snorted. “Some of us have practice tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head. “Well, some were clever enough to tell Coach that they wouldn’t come tomorrow so they can drink.”

Sunghoon hummed in agreement, but his attention was already elsewhere. You seemed to suddenly have let loose, your shoulders sagging as you giggled, you giggled, at something the baseball player said. In the one and a half months that he had been living together with you, he never saw you giggle; laugh, sure, but giggle, never. 

He shifted his weight, keeping one ear on whatever Hyunjin was saying while his eyes flickered back to you.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of Sunghoon’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

Sunghoon blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Sunghoon‘s eyes flickered back to you. „Yeah,“ he started, moving, patting Hyunjin's shoulder. „You know what, I’ll be back in a second.“

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The music thudded in your chest, vibrating through your bones. Your head was pounding, your vision blurry, and there was a weird, giddy sensation bubbling up in you.

 You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying, and you couldn’t grasp a clear thought; everything felt mulled over. It wasn’t unusual for you to get a migraine, especially with the noise and lights in a place like this, but this was different. It felt like your mouth was moving without you even thinking about it when you were answering whatever question Injang just asked.

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for tomorrow? You know there’s an after-Halloween party for those who couldn’t come today,” he grinned at you, leaning in slightly, his voice a little too loud to make it easy to follow.

You could feel his eyes on you, more intent than necessary. “Um. I have to–I have to study? I can’t party.”

“Oh really? Jaemin mentioned you’re into architecture? It’s probably really hard. Especially for a pretty girl like you, right?" He said, his grin widening. 

You nodded, and the room tilted for a second. 

You blinked hard. 

That wasn’t normal. Your migraines were awful, but they didn’t usually make your body feel this heavy.

“I–I don’t know, maybe?” you replied, your voice trailing off.

„Oh, but I‘m sure you‘re doing a good job, sweetheart.“ 

Somewhere in the back of your brain, you registered the condescending tone he was using, that he was making fun of you, but somehow your thoughts felt detached from everything else. 

They were slow, fuzzy, and your vision started to swim a little as you tried your best to stay nice and polite and look at Injang while he was talking to you. 

Maybe you should have eaten more or drunk more water. 

“Hey, Y/N, you’re okay? You seemed a little drunk." he was suddenly standing closer to you, the heat radiating from his body making your body feel even more uncomfortable. 

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze in your brain, but instead, the dizziness swirled, and the world started spinning around you.

“I... I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t even sure you believed it. Your words were slurred, and your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to shake your head. 

You couldn’t understand what was happening; the only thing you had been drinking all day was water. Why did you feel drunk all of a sudden? 

Injang kept leaning in, his hand brushing a few strands that came loose from the ponytail you had tied your hair in behind your ear, his smirk growing wider. You tried to focus on him, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure in your skull and the odd sense of lightness in your limbs.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to drink some more of your water? I’m sure it will help," he asked again, leaning even closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. His voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. 

“I... yeah,” your hands almost automatically guided your cup to your mouth; maybe he was right, and water would help. “I’m just–I’m just a little tired, y’know? I think–I think I should go to my roommate?” 

You glanced towards where you knew Sunghoon was standing, not seeing anything besides the stobling lights flickering over your blurry vision. Your legs felt unsteady, as though they weren’t entirely yours, when you tried to push past the baseball player. 

You could hardly keep your balance, and the noise became so much louder, as if it were vibrating inside your skull. You placed a hand on the wall for support, just trying to stay on your feet. 

The room was spinning, and you tried to focus, to remember where the kitchen was, where you were, but it felt like you had to move through molasses. 

Injang's hands were on you again, and this time it wasn’t just a touch. He was almost painfully gripping your waist, pulling you back. You tried to tug away, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, alright? Just let me get you outside; I’m sure some fresh air would help.” Injang’s voice was thick now, too close for comfort. 

His touch sent panic through you.

You couldn’t go outside with him; you shouldn’t. Everything felt wrong.

You knew you needed to get away from him, but every part of you felt so heavy, and your movements weren’t your own. 

You were trapped in this slow, sluggish fog.

"Seriously, Y/N, you're so cute," he continued, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his body at your back. "I’m just worried about you. You sure you’re not feeling anything... weird?" 

You flinched, trying to pull away, but he kept his grip, his fingers brushing down to your waist in a way that made you feel exposed and uncomfortable. “Come on baby, don't be shy. It's just a party. We’re just having fun, right?”

You tried again to shake him off, to get awy, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate.

Noise drung through he fog, it semed like someone was fighting, but you weren’t sure. They were muffled and you couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

The next thing you knew, there was a quick movement and Injang’s hand left your waist. 

Without his additional support, your knees buckled underneath your weight and the world tilted, before everything went black. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The second you collapsed, it was like time stopped. 

Sunghoon watched how Injang let go of your body, trying to defend himself, saying something about wanting to get you some water. He watched the way you swayed and, finally, how your knees seemed to give up underneath your weight. 

He barely managed to catch you in time, feeling the weight of your body press into him as you fell limp in his arms. His heart slammed in his chest. 

"Y/N?" He shook you gently, then a bit harder when you didn’t respond. 

You felt like a rag doll, no resistance in your body as he went down to the floor, still trying to shake you awake. “Y/N, what’s going on? Wake up!”

Jaemin was suddenly kneeling next to him, helping him hold you up, keeping your head straight. 

“Oh my god," he gasped, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. 

His eyes flickered between Sunghoon and you.

"What happened to her? What's wrong with her?" Jaemin’s voice was panicked. His gaze darted between your pale face and Sunghoon’s frantic movements. 

Sunghoon's mind raced as he tried to figure out what could have happened. “She had–”, he combed his hair back in a frantic movement with one hand. "She said she’s having a migraine. She took some painkillers. Has she been drinking?” Sunghoon's eyes flickered towards Jaemin's face, still holding your body in his arms. “Has she been drinking, Jaemin?” 

Jaemin shook his head, the panic in his face evident. “She didn’t. She only had water. There was nothing–we didn’t even do shots or anything. I–what's happening, Sunghoon? Has she been spiked? That has to be what's happened, right? She’s been spiked.” 

Sunghoon looked around the room, eyes searching for the guy who had been sticking so damn close to you earlier. His hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Call 911,” Sunghoon mumbled before repeating it louder. “Call 911!”

“Jay’s on it, Sunghoon,” Jake’s voice came from behind him. He hadn’t even realised that Jay and Jake had followed him and were now standing behind him, his sole focus on you. “They said help is on the way.”

Sunghoon barely heard him.

All he could focus on was how limp you felt in his arms, how wrong it was that your body had gone so still so fast. He shifted you more carefully against him, his heart slamming so hard it made everything else feel distant and blurry. “Y/N,” he said again, lower this time, as he could somehow pull you back with his voice alone. “Come on. Wake up.”

You didn’t move.

“Where is that guy?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. He couldn’t let that guy go; it had to have been him. You had nursed one cup of water Sunghoon had personally given you, and that guy had been dancing around you all evening. It had to have been him. 

“Jake, Jake, get that guy.” Sunghoon carefully moved your body, cradling you against his chest as he slowly stood up. “He can’t leave, do whatever is necessary. You’re a hockey player, you know how to throw punches.”

His friend looked between him and wherever the guy from just now had escaped towards. “I can’t just–”

“Yes, you can,” Sunghoon cut in, sharper now, eyes wild. “Do whatever you need to do to keep him there. He does not get to walk out.”

Jake opened his mouth again, then shut it when he saw the look on Sunghoon’s face. “Sunghoon–”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon said, more to keep himself from losing it than to silence Jake. “We have to keep him here until the police get him.”

He looked up at Jake again, anger and fear mixing into something almost unbearable. “Don’t let him go,” he repeated, voice rough. “If he moves, stop him.”

Jake’s expression tightened. “Let’s get Y/N out of here first. We’ll deal with Injang later, Sunghoon.”

“No. Get him now.”

That came out harsher than Sunghoon meant it to, but he didn’t know what to do if he escaped. His skin felt too hot, his pulse too fast, his hands shaking where they held you.

Jake stepped closer, one hand raised in a placating gesture. “Sunghoon, listen to me. Let’s get Y/N outside, let’s wait outside for the ambulance to come. We have enough witnesses to get Injang in trouble, okay?”

“What if he gets rid of the evidence?” Sunghoon shot back, eyes darting over the room again, searching for the guy who had been too close, too hands-on, too wrong. “He doesn’t get to do this and walk away as if nothing happened.”

“Sunghoon,” Jaemin said carefully, trying to get his attention, “we need to focus on Y/N right now.”

“I am focused on her.”

“No, you’re not! You’re focused on beating Injang senseless. Get her out of here.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe once, then twice, but it did almost nothing. His chest was too tight, his hands were still shaking.

Then Jay appeared at the edge of the room, pushing through the crowd. “Ambulance is here,” he said quickly.

For a second, Sunghoon didn’t move.

Then his head snapped up. “Police?”

“On their way,” Jay said, voice clipped. “Let’s get Y/N outside.”

That finally broke through some of the haze. Sunghoon looked down at you again, still cradling you tightly, and his expression changed from furious to wrecked in the space of a breath. “Okay,” he said, though it sounded more like he was telling himself than anyone else. “Okay.”

He tightened his hold on you just a little and bent his head closer. “You’re okay,” he said, though it sounded like a promise he was trying to make true by force. “Help’s here. Just stay with me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon sat in the back of the taxi, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind was racing while his pulse was hammering in his ears as the city lights blurred past the window. His body moved on autopilot when the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hospital. He couldn't get the image of you collapsing out of his head, the way you crumpled to the floor, lifeless in his arms. He insisted on coming to the hospital but wanted Jaemin to be with you in the ambulance, just in case you woke up. 

The chances were low, but he didn’t want you to be with him. 

You barely knew each other. 

You did, technically, he would say; you’ve grown to be something like friends, but he was sure Jaemin was the better, the safer choice for you. 

He barely remembered paying the driver before rushing inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright fluorescent lights making his head pound.

The waiting area was quiet except for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional murmur of nurses. It didn't take much of an effort to find Jaemin.

He was curled up in one of the plastic chairs, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and when he looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were bloodshot.

Sunghoon hesitated before stepping closer. "Any news?"

Jaemin shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. His voice was hoarse. "She's stable, but she's not awake. They said they would send some of her blood to get checked for drugs." His breath hitched slightly. "But it’s gonna take a while until they get the results."

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the waiting room swung open, and Donghyuck rushed in, wearing a vampire costume, his hair swept by the wind and the blood that belonged to the costume smeared across his lower face. 

His face was full of panic, darting from Jaemin to Sunghoon and back. "Where is she?"

Jaemin gestured toward the hallway leading to the ICU. "They're doing tests."

“Is she going to be okay? What did they say, Jaemin? Will she be okay?” Your brother shook Jaemin’s shoulders frantically.

Jaemin nodded, wrapping his hands around your brother’s arms. “She’ll be okay, Hyuck.”

A sob escaped your brother's lips, and he wrapped his arms around Jaemin, deflating against him, as a sob wracked through his body. 

Sunghoon had to avert his gaze for a second. 

He had never felt so helpless as when he was holding your lifeless body at that party, handing you over to the paramedic, watching you get loaded into the ambulance. 

He knew he probably should stay composed, stay focused, but he felt panic run through his veins, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. 

 "I don't know what happened, Donghyuck,” Jaemin's voice was shaking as he was pressing Donghyuck against his chest. “She was fine. We were just hanging out, talking to some of the baseball guys I know, and then she… she just collapsed. She was just drinking water. She didn’t drink any–any alcohol."

Donghyuck shook his head, pushing himself away from your friend, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's okay, Jaemin, it's not your fault that this happened." 

A nurse approached them, and the attention of all three of the men snapped towards her. "Mr Lee?" 

"Yes," Donghyuck straightened up immediately.

“The doctors had a few additional questions regarding Y/N,” she said gently. “Have you spent the day with her? Would you know her condition before she fainted?” 

Donghyuck blinked at her, still breathing hard from crying, before he shook his head. "I didn't see her today."

The nurse glanced at Sunghoon and Jaemin. "What about either of you?"

“She’s had a migraine since this morning," Sunghoon cleared his throat. “She took painkillers earlier.”

The nurse’s gaze flicked toward him. “Do you know which painkillers?”

Sunghoon shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

The nurse hummed and made a note. “Did she eat anything with them? Any food or drink?”

“I don’t think so,” he frowned, trying to remember. "I don't think she ate dinner. She said she wasn't hungry because of the headache."

“Did she eat anything besides that?” The woman looked between the two of them

Jaemin straightened from his chair, rubbing at one of his eyes before answering. “Yeah. We had lunch at work, and she had snacks later too.”

“What did the two of you eat?” The woman looked at Jaemin expectantly. “Are you feeling unwell as well?”

“No? No, no, I’m okay, maybe a bit tipsy but like nothing besides that.” He went through his hair, bunching the pink strands together. “We ate bibimbap and mandu for lunch at like three pm.”

"Did she drink any alcohol?"

"No." Sunghoon’s answer came instantly, almost interrupting the nurse. "She only drank water."

"Any recreational drugs? Prescription medication besides the migraine tablets?"

"No."

The nurse looked between them all for a moment, then her eyes settled on Donghyuck again. “Mr Lee, would you like to come in and see her?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Darkness. That was the first thing you noticed. Heavy, suffocating darkness clung to you like a thick fog, making it impossible to think, impossible to move. Then came the sound. Distant at first, like you were hearing everything from underwater. A rhythmic beeping. The faint hum of voices. Rubber soles moving across the floor. You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, and a noise escaped your lips. The footsteps stopped. “Y/N?” You forced your eyes open. Harsh white light flooded your vision, sending a sharp pain through your skull. You squeezed them shut again with a faint whimper. “That’s okay,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Take your time. You’re safe.” Something shifted beside you, followed by the quiet click of a switch. The light behind your eyelids softened. You tried again. This time, you managed to keep your eyes open, although everything remained blurred around the edges. A woman in dark blue scrubs stood beside the bed, one hand resting near the monitor to your left. “Can you hear me?” You gave the smallest nod, blinking at her. “Good. My name is Mina. I’m one of the nurses looking after you.” She leaned slightly closer. “Can you tell me your name?” Your lips felt dry and strangely numb when you answered. “Y/N L/N.” “And do you know where you are?” Your gaze drifted around the space. You noticed a pale curtain surrounding the bed you were lying on, thin wires disappearing beneath the blanket covering you, tape against the inside of your arm, holding an IV line in place. “Hospital,” you whispered. “That’s right.” The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for the blood-pressure cuff around your arm. “Do you know what day it is?” You stared at her, swallowing dryly when you realised you didn’t. You didn’t know what day it was. The question should have been easy, but your thoughts scattered the moment you reached for an answer. You remembered getting dressed. Sunghoon standing in the bathroom with white paint smeared across his face. The heat inside the party. Flashing lights. After that, there was only a blank stretch of nothing. Your answer came out as a whisper, as your throat tightened. “I don’t know.” “That’s okay.” Her voice remained gentle. “Do you remember what happened tonight?” You swallowed, your throat aching with the movement. “I went to a party.” “Anything after that?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to push through the fog. You remembered music, someone talking to you, the room tilting beneath your feet. Then nothing. “No.” The nurse checked the monitor, then shone a small light briefly across each of your pupils. “Are you in pain?” “My head.” Your voice barely carried over the insistent beeping. “It hurts.” “On a scale from zero to ten?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gauge how painful the throbbing was, ignoring the feeling of panic flaring up in your chest. “Seven. Maybe. I get these migraines sometimes.” “And do you feel nauseous?” “A little.” She nodded and made a note on the chart beside the bed. “You were brought in after losing consciousness at a party. Your friends called an ambulance. Your vital signs are stable now, but you were very difficult to wake when you arrived, so we’ve been monitoring you closely.”

Your fingers tightened weakly around the blanket. “Why?” “We’re still waiting for some of the laboratory results,” she explained, smiling gently at you. “The doctors are concerned that you may have been given something without your knowledge. One of them will speak with you now that you’re awake.” Your stomach tightened. Before you could ask anything else, the curtain shifted, and a doctor stepped inside. He introduced himself, then repeated several of the nurse’s questions. Your name. Where you were. What you remembered. Whether you had consumed alcohol or taken any medication. “I took ibuprofen,” you murmured. “For a migraine.” “Anything else?” You shook your head carefully. “Did you drink alcohol tonight?” You blinked, trying your best to remember anything from the day before. “I…I don’t remember.” The doctor nodded, his expression serious but not alarmed. “Your initial blood work is reassuring. Your blood sugar and electrolyte levels are stable, and there are no immediate signs of a serious injury. We’re still waiting for the toxicology results, so I can’t tell you exactly what caused the loss of consciousness yet.” You stared at him, trying to follow every word despite the fog pressing against your thoughts. “Was I drugged?” “It’s a possibility,” he said carefully. “Your symptoms and the account provided by your friends are concerning for that, but we need the laboratory results before we can be more certain.” Your stomach twisted violently. You’ve gotten drugged. You went to that stupid party, and someone had mixed something into your water. You blinked at the doctor, your brain feeling weirdly blank all of a sudden. You’ve gotten drugged. “Your brother is waiting outside,” the nurse added softly. “Would you like us to bring him in?” Donghyuck. The thought of him sitting somewhere beyond the curtain made something inside you loosen and tighten at the same time. You nodded. The nurse disappeared through the curtain. A few moments later, hurried footsteps approached, slowing only when Donghyuck stepped into view. He was wearing part of a vampire costume. His dark shirt was wrinkled, and the fake blood around his mouth had smeared across one cheek. His eyes were swollen and red. The sight of him made your chest ache. “Hey,” he breathed. He crossed the space between you in two steps and reached for your hand, holding it carefully between both of his. “Hey, Bug.” You stared at him. “What happened?” His expression crumpled for half a second before he forced it back under control. “You collapsed at the party.” His thumbs moved nervously over your knuckles. “Jaemin came with you in the ambulance. They think someone put something in your drink.” Your stomach twisted. “My water?” “We don’t know yet.” The room felt strangely distant again. The monitor continued beeping beside you, steady and indifferent. Someone had put something in your water. You pulled in a shallow breath. “Where’s Jaemin?” “He’s outside.” Donghyuck glanced toward the curtain. “Sunghoon too. They’ve both been here the whole time.” “Can they come in?” Donghyuck studied your face for a moment. “Are you sure?” You nodded. He squeezed your hand before stepping out to speak with the nurse. A few minutes passed before the curtain opened again. Jaemin entered first.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and the moment he saw you awake, his hand flew to his mouth. He crossed the room quickly but stopped beside the bed as though he was afraid to touch you without permission. “Oh, my God.” You gave him a weak smile. “Hi.” His face twisted, and tears filled his eyes almost immediately. Behind him, Sunghoon stepped through the opening in the curtain. Most of his costume was gone, but traces of dark makeup remained around his eyes. His hair was dishevelled, and his face looked drained of everything except exhaustion. He stayed near the end of the bed rather than approaching. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. You looked at him, searching through the missing pieces of the night. “You caught me.” It came out more like a question than a statement. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” his voice was rough. “You scared the hell out of us.” The words were quiet, almost restrained, but something in his expression made your chest tighten. The nurse returned before anyone could say more. “I need to check her blood pressure again,” she said gently. “You can stay for a few minutes, but she needs rest, and the doctor will want to reassess her once the remaining results are available.” Donghyuck immediately shifted aside. Jaemin wiped quickly at his face. Sunghoon remained where he was, one hand resting against the metal rail at the end of the bed. The cuff tightened around your arm. You stared at the ceiling while the machine hummed, trying to understand how the night had gone from flashing lights and music to a hospital bed surrounded by three frightened faces. No matter how hard you tried, the space between those two moments remained completely empty. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The rest of the day passed in a blur. The hospital staff checked in on you frequently, making sure you were eating and drinking, and that the drug was fully leaving your system. Your body still felt sluggish, like moving through water, and your head pounded in a dull, persistent ache. By the time the evening rolled around, you were discharged with strict instructions to rest, stay hydrated, and come back if anything felt off. Donghyuck refused to let you go home alone, ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t be, that Sunghoon would be there with you and insisted on coming to your apartment. So Donghyuck, Sunghoon, and you settled into the couch in your living room, the TV casting a soft glow across the dimly lit living room. There was nothing particular you wanted to do or watch, everything feeling a bit over- and understimulating at the same time, but you knew your brother was worried. So you just let him pull you onto the sofa, opening Netflix and starting the first show that was on your recently watched list. You were looking at the TV, seeing the pictures, hearing the sounds, the music, the monologues, but you could barely focus on following the story. Your whole body still felt off, heavy, sluggish. Every movement required double the effort. It felt like there was a fog over everything, making it impossible to think too hard or even process what had happened. So you just sat there, curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in one of the throw blankets.

They had given you medication against the nausea, so you could eat at least a bit. Your stomach felt upset nonetheless, no matter how much you drank or shifted your position, so at one point you had just given up, slumping into the sofa, willing yourself to stay awake for at least the first episode of whatever you were watching. Donghyuck was chattering away, commenting on everything that was happening, even roping in Sunghoon into muttering a few comments here and there. At one point, your brother turned to you, seemingly wanting to see if you agreed with what he had just said. “Right, Y/N?” You blinked slowly, shifting your eyes to focus on his face instead of the TV. “Huh?” Donghyuck’s teasing expression faltered slightly, and his eyes softened. “Never mind,” he said gently. “Are you tired?” You nodded, barely holding back a yawn. Donghyuck reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.” You were about to agree, but when you tried to move, your entire body protested. Even sitting up felt like too much effort. “Mhm, I’ll go after this episode.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement and turned back to the TV. Somewhere in the middle of the episode, your body gave in to exhaustion. You woke up in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to realise you were curled into Donghyuck’s side, your head resting against his chest. His arm was draped over you protectively, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room. You adjusted slightly and closed your eyes again. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The apartment was quiet. Sunghoon stood in the kitchen, rolling his shoulders back as he stared at the half-chopped apple sitting on the cutting board in front of him. His eyes kept flicking toward the living room, where you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Again. Donghyuck had left a few hours ago, only after making you swear you would be okay. He assured you and Sunghoon that he would be back in seconds if he was needed. Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon knew that you wouldn’t be on top of your game less than a day after being drugged, but his heart clenched every time he walked past your sleeping figure on the sofa. You had dragged yourself from your room into the living room, claiming your room was too cold to be in, wrapping yourself in multiple layers of blankets before passing out not long after. Donghyuck had insisted you ate lunch while he was there, wanting to see you eat at least a bit, seeming satisfied after you ate a whole bowl of rice and some soup before you took painkillers and suppressants against the nausea. Sunghoon had called his mom after he had woken up today, having the desire to speak to someone who was truly adult about the whole situation. She had offered to come to Seoul, taking care of the two of you for a few days, or at least until you were feeling a bit better, when she learned that your mother couldn’t. He had declined her offer, but gratefully accepted her recipes for an upset stomach. Starting with serving you some vegetables that were easily digestible. So he neatly arranged a banana, a few pieces of cucumber, carrots and some graham crackers before setting the plate down on the coffee table. Maybe you felt like eating a bit when you woke up, and the meds had kicked in. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You jerked awake, shooting upright so quickly that the sudden movement sent a sharp pulse through your head. For a few seconds, you didn’t know where you were. The apartment was silent around you, the curtains pulled almost completely shut. Thin lines of sunlight filtered in around the edges of the fabric, cutting pale strips across the living room floor. The television had been turned off at some point, and the only sound came from the low hum of the air conditioner and your own uneven breathing. You were sweating. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your back, and damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead and the side of your neck. At the same time, your skin felt cold beneath the blankets wrapped around you, a strange chill sitting deep inside your body despite the heat trapped underneath the fabric. You slowly started peeling the blankets away. Even that felt like too much effort. Your arms were heavy, your fingers clumsy as they caught in the folds, and it took you much longer than it should have to free your legs. By the time the last blanket slipped onto the floor, your heart was beating too quickly for someone who had done nothing but sit up. For a long moment, you stayed there. Your feet rested against the cool floor while you leaned forward, elbows braced against your knees. You took one breath, then another, trying to orient yourself. Your body felt wrong. Heavy and hollow at the same time. Your head still hurt, though the sharp migraine from the day before had softened into a dull, persistent pressure behind your eyes. Your muscles ached like you had been running for hours, and every part of you seemed to lag a second behind your thoughts. Then your stomach growled. The sound was loud in the quiet apartment, followed by an uncomfortable twist that made you place a hand against your middle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten properly. You swallowed, but there was barely any moisture in your mouth. The movement scraped against the back of your throat and made you wince. Water. You needed water. Maybe something small to eat as well. Rice. Toast. Something plain enough that your stomach wouldn’t protest. You placed both hands against the sofa and pushed yourself upright. The world tilted immediately. You tightened your grip on the backrest, your fingers digging into the fabric as the living room shifted sideways. Black spots flickered briefly at the edges of your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing slowly until the floor seemed to settle beneath you again. When you opened them, the room was still. Mostly. You waited another few seconds before carefully letting go of the sofa. Your legs felt unsteady, but they held. The distance between the living room and the kitchen had never seemed particularly far before, but now every step required concentration. You moved slowly, one hand occasionally brushing against the wall or the edge of the furniture, as though your own apartment had become unfamiliar overnight. A small Post-it note was stuck to the refrigerator door. You stopped in front of it. Sunghoon’s handwriting covered most of the yellow paper, neat but slightly tilted to one side. I cut up some fruit and vegetables for you. It’s in the blue box you always use. My mom said you should get well soon. A tiny smiley face had been drawn beneath the message.

You stared at it for longer than necessary. Somehow you were weirdly touched and embarrassed at the same time that Sunghoon had told his mom, probably asked her what to do and then had taken the time to cut up fruit for you. With a quiet huff, you pulled the refrigerator door open. The light struck your eyes immediately. Pain shot through your skull, sharp enough to make you recoil. You let the door fall closed again and raised one hand to cover your face, blinking rapidly against the burning behind your eyes. For a moment, you stood there with your palm pressed against the counter. The dizziness returned, softer this time but still enough to make your stomach shift unpleasantly. Maybe food could wait. Maybe you should drink something first. The pounding in your head might be dehydration. The dry mouth definitely was. If you drank some water and sat down again, you might feel normal enough to eat the fruit afterwards. A half-full bottle of water stood on the counter. You reached for it, rubbing the heel of your free hand against one eye before twisting the cap open. Your fingers felt weaker than usual, and the thin plastic crumpled slightly beneath your grip. You brought the bottle to your mouth and took three large swallows. The water was lukewarm, but you didn’t care. It felt good against your throat, washing away some of the dryness. For approximately two seconds. Then it didn’t sit right. Your stomach tightened so suddenly that you froze with the bottle still near your lips. A hard, unpleasant twist pulled through your middle. Not quite pain. Something worse. Something shifting and unstable, as if the water had disturbed whatever fragile balance your stomach had managed to find while you were asleep. You stopped breathing. For a second, you simply stood there, staring at the cabinet in front of you. Maybe it would pass. You had drunk too quickly. That was all. Your stomach had been empty, and you had swallowed too much water at once. It would settle if you stayed still. You lowered the bottle carefully. Your mouth filled with saliva. Your stomach rolled again, sharper this time. No. Your hand flew to your middle while the other placed the bottle onto the counter so quickly that it tipped onto its side. Water sloshed against the plastic, but you barely noticed. No, that was not good. You turned instinctively toward the sink, bending forward slightly as another wave passed through you. Please, no. The thought came before anything else. You pressed your palm harder against your stomach, as though enough pressure might hold everything in place. Your breathing became shallow and careful. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly. Calmly. It was nausea. Just nausea. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. You had drunk too quickly. There were a dozen reasonable explanations for why you felt sick. This was different. It had to be different. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your throat tightened every time you swallowed. The nausea rose and fell in unpredictable waves, and panic followed it immediately, hot and violent beneath your ribs. You could not throw up. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t allow yourself to.

The thought sounded irrational even inside your own head. People threw up when they were sick. It happened. It meant nothing. Your body was trying to protect itself after everything it had been through. But your body did not seem to understand that this was supposed to be different. It remembered. The pressure beneath your ribs. The saliva gathering beneath your tongue. The instinctive way your body folded forward before you even decided to move. You knew every step that would come next. That knowledge terrified you more than the nausea itself. You inhaled through your nose. One. Exhaled slowly. Two. Again. In. Out. It would pass. It had to pass. You stayed perfectly still, one hand braced against the counter and the other pressed over your stomach. Gradually, the pressure eased. Only slightly, but enough that you could take a fuller breath. You opened your eyes. The kitchen came back into focus around you. The closed refrigerator. The tipped bottle. Sunghoon’s note fluttering faintly beneath the air from the vent. You were okay. You were getting through it. Maybe if you stood there for another minute, the nausea would disappear completely. Then you could go back to the sofa. You could lie down, pull the blankets over yourself and pretend none of this had happened. You lifted your head. The movement itself was small but still enough to set the next wave of nausea into motion. Your stomach clenched so violently that your knees almost gave out beneath you. You covered your mouth, a broken sound catching in your throat as you stumbled away from the counter. No. No, no, no. You barely made it into the bathroom. Your shoulder collided with the doorframe on the way inside, but you barely registered the dull pain. One hand caught the edge of the sink while the other remained clamped over your mouth. The cold porcelain pulled you back into reality for half a second. Then your stomach twisted again. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet. The position was too familiar. That was the first clear thought that cut through the panic. Your knees against the cold floor. One hand gripping the toilet seat. Your head bowed as your body prepared itself, completely ignoring every desperate command you gave it. You stared down into the empty bowl. Your breathing came too quickly now, shallow and uneven, and every inhale seemed to catch halfway into your lungs. You were sick. That was all. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. Your stomach was irritated. This was not something you had chosen. This had nothing to do with before. But the tiles beneath your knees felt the same. The pressure behind your ribs felt the same. The helpless, ugly awareness of what your body was about to do felt exactly the same. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the toilet. “No,” you whispered. The word disappeared into the quiet bathroom. Your mouth filled with saliva again. You swallowed forcefully, fighting against the reflex, but that only made the nausea rise higher. “No. Please.” You pressed one hand against your stomach, trying to force your breathing back into something manageable. A small, broken sound escaped your lips, and you bent forward further. The worst part was that you knew what came afterwards. The relief.

That brief emptiness. The sudden quiet after your body had stopped fighting itself. You hated that your mind remembered it. You hated that some distant, buried part of you anticipated it. The bathroom door opened behind you. “Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was sharp, immediately awake despite the sleep still roughening its edges. You froze. Shame hit you so quickly that it almost drowned out the nausea. He couldn’t see you like this. You turned your head slightly, but not enough to look at him. “Go.” The word came out hoarse and weak. There was a brief silence. “What happened?” His footsteps moved closer. “No.” You shook your head, though the motion immediately made the room tilt again. “Go away.” He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. You heard him cross the bathroom in two quick steps before he crouched beside you. His presence seemed to take up the entire small space, warm and solid against the cold air. “Hey, hey.” His hand hovered uncertainly near your back. “Are you going to be sick?” You flinched away from him. Your hand left the toilet long enough to press weakly against his chest. You tried to push him back, but there was barely any strength behind the movement. “Go,” you rasped again. “Go away, Sunghoon. I’m fine.” The lie sounded pathetic even to you. His brows drew together. “You’re not fine.” “I am.” You pushed at him once more, but he barely moved. Everything about the situation became unbearable at once. His closeness. His worry. The fact that he was looking at you, taking in the sweat on your face and the tears already gathering in your eyes. You were good. You weren’t doing this anymore. You hadn’t done this in years. Sunghoon had to leave. But before either of you could say anything else, another contraction pulled through your stomach. You doubled over, both hands returning to the toilet seat as your throat tightened around a sob. The nausea rose hard and fast, forcing your body forward. Sunghoon’s hand landed carefully between your shoulder blades. You tried to shrug him off. “Don’t.” “I’m just trying to help.” “I don’t need help.” Your voice cracked at the end. You hated this. You hated how familiar the cold floor felt beneath your knees. You hated that your body knew exactly what position to take, how to brace itself, how to wait for the inevitable. Worse, you hated the small, traitorous thought moving beneath the panic. If you threw up, you would feel better. You knew that. Throwing up always helped. The nausea would disappear. The pressure would ease. The terrible fullness in your chest and stomach would finally be gone. The thought was almost reassuring. That realisation made terror flood through you all over again. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. You did not know whether you were asking him to stay or begging him to leave. “I know,” he said quickly. His voice was tense. “I know. Just breathe, okay? Don’t fight it too hard.” A miserable sound escaped you, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He went still. “No, I mean…” He shook his head rapidly, realising too late that he had said the wrong thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few laborious breaths, trying to get yourself under control, fighting your body even more.

“Do you want water?” he asked, panic creeping more openly into his voice. “Or your medication? Maybe the pills they gave you can still help.” You shook your head. The movement made your stomach lurch again. You folded forward, one hand flying to your mouth as a choked, helpless noise tore out of you. Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “Okay. Okay.” His breathing was too quick now. “Don’t move. I’ll call the hospital.” That sentence broke through the fog immediately. “No!” Sunghoon had already started to stand, but he stopped halfway and looked down at you. “No?” “Don’t call them.” Your voice shook so much, you weren’t sure he understood what you said. “Y/N, you were discharged less than a day ago.” “I’m fine.” “You’re crying on the bathroom floor.” “I said I’m fine,” you snapped, moving away from him. He stared at you for half a second, disbelief and fear moving across his face. Then he crouched beside you again. “You’re not fine,” his voice was quiet. His hand reached toward your face, hesitating before carefully brushing the loose strands of hair away from your damp forehead. “Let me call them. I can explain what’s happening and ask if this is normal. We don’t even have to go back unless they tell us to.” Your chest tightened further. The thought of the hospital made the humiliation burn hotter. Doctors asking questions. Someone writing down your weight again, discussing your body, telling you that this wasn’t healthy. Donghyuck finding out. Everyone watching. Everyone knowing that you could not even be trusted to recover normally. “If I could just…” You swallowed hard, another wave building beneath your ribs. “If I could just get it out, it would stop.” The words left your mouth before you could catch them. Sunghoon’s expression changed, only slightly, a small crease forming between his brows. “What?” Your entire body went cold. You turned your face away from him. “Nothing,” tears spilt down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Sunghoon’s hand stilled against your back. “For what?” You shook your head. For making him sit here. For making him see you like this. For knowing exactly what would make the nausea stop. For the horrible, quiet relief that had already started forming in your mind before your body had even done anything. “You shouldn’t have to…” Your voice broke. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” “Don’t,” the word came out louder than he intended, but you flinched nonetheless. His face changed immediately. “Sorry.” He softened his voice, moving his hand more carefully over your back. “Don’t apologise. Okay? You don’t have to apologise to me.” You stared down at the tile. “You just got out of the hospital,” he continued. “You’re sick. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with being sick.” But there was. He didn’t understand. You weren’t doing this anymore. A sob pushed its way out of your throat. You covered your mouth, but it was too late. You weren’t the girl who knelt on bathroom floors anymore. You weren’t the girl who waited until everyone was asleep. You weren’t the girl who planned how long to run the tap so nobody would hear. You felt weak, embarrassed, dirty, wrong. Sunghoon kept one hand between your shoulder blades while the other hovered uncertainly near your arm. He clearly did not know whether touching you was helping or making everything worse. “Oh, Y/N.”

The pity you thought you heard in his voice made your throat close. You hated it. You hated the idea of him feeling sorry for you. You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that, but the nausea rose again before you could speak. Sunghoon saw the change in your face. “Shit.” You turned toward the toilet. One hand caught the sink while your stomach contracted hard enough to make your entire body jerk forward. Sunghoon’s hand returned to your back immediately. The sound that escaped you was horrified and miserable, followed by the violent tightening of your stomach as what little remained inside it came up. Your eyes burned. Your throat burned. Your fingers slipped against the cold porcelain, and Sunghoon moved closer, supporting your shoulder when you shook too hard to keep yourself steady. “It’s okay,” he muttered, the words sounding more like something he was telling himself than something he expected you to believe. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You hated that he was there. You were grateful that he was there. Both feelings existed so violently beside each other that you could barely separate them. Your body contracted again. Then again. Each time, the pressure eased slightly. And there it was. Relief. Small at first. Then unmistakable. The nausea retreated. The painful fullness beneath your ribs loosened. Your breathing became easier between the sobs catching in your throat. You noticed it immediately. That was the worst part. The nausea had terrified you. The relief terrified you more. Your body remembered this. Some part of you still recognised the emptiness afterwards as something clean and quiet. You hated yourself for feeling it. When it was over, you remained bent above the toilet for several seconds, trembling hard enough that your teeth almost knocked together. Sunghoon’s hand moved slowly across your back. You sat back on your heels. A sob escaped you before you could stop it. Sunghoon reached forward and flushed the toilet quickly. “I’ll get you water,” he said. “Stay here. Don’t stand up.” Before you could answer, he was gone. You heard his footsteps hurry through the hallway, followed by the sound of drawers and cabinets opening in the kitchen. The second he disappeared, you pushed yourself upright. Your knees protested, and the room tilted again, but you grabbed the edge of the washing machine and forced yourself to stand. Your mouth tasted awful. Acid burned at the back of your throat. The bitter taste clung to your tongue, and you could still smell it in the small bathroom. You needed it gone. Immediately. Your hand reached for your toothbrush before you had consciously decided to move. You knew you were supposed to rinse first. Some distant, reasonable part of your mind remembered being told that brushing immediately was bad for your teeth. You did not care. The taste made your skin crawl. It made everything too real. You squeezed toothpaste onto the brush with shaking fingers and started scrubbing. The sharp mint burned against your tongue. You brushed harder; the repetitive movement quieted something inside your head. Back and forth. Across the front. Along the sides. The taste of mint replacing the acid. The foam gathering in the sink. For a second, it almost felt meditative. Automatic. Familiar. That thought made your hand falter.

You spat into the sink and rinsed your mouth. It wasn’t enough. You could still feel it at the back of your throat, could still taste something sour beneath the mint. You cleaned the toothbrush, squeezed more toothpaste onto it and started again. Harder this time. Your gums hurt, but you kept brushing. You needed every trace of it gone. After a minute or maybe more, you rinsed your mouth again, and cleaned the toothbrush more carefully than necessary before placing it back into its holder. When you finally lifted your head, your reflection stared back at you. You looked awful. Your face was pale, almost grey beneath the bathroom light. Your hair had fallen loose around your shoulders, damp strands sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, your mouth trembling faintly even though the vomiting had stopped. Your cheeks looked hollow. You stared at them. At least your face looked smaller. The thought arrived before you could stop it. Disgust rose through you so quickly that you almost gagged again. What was wrong with you? You had just been drugged. You had spent the night in a hospital. You had collapsed in front of a room full of people and woken up with no memory of how you had gotten there. And this was what your brain chose to notice. The shape of your face. The emptiness in your stomach. You gripped the edge of the sink. Your stomach felt hollow now. Not simply hungry. Truly empty. The sensation sat beneath your ribs, strange and familiar, making you aware of every angle of your body. The slight pull of your shirt against your waist. The bones beneath your hands. The absence of anything heavy inside you. It had been years since you had felt like this. Years since empty had meant more than hunger. Years since you had treated that hollow ache like proof that you had done something right. You stared at your reflection for too long. Your hand remained braced against the sink, the other hanging uselessly beside you. The girl in the mirror looked just as shocked as you felt. Sunghoon shifted behind you. You had almost forgotten that he was there, but he was watching you quietly, holding a glass of water and a bucket in his hands. You looked up and met his gaze through the mirror. He wasn’t looking at you with disgust. That almost made it worse. His expression was soft and worried, his brows drawn together as he took in your shaking hands and tear-streaked face. Heat spread across your face despite the cold sitting beneath your skin. He placed the bucket carefully beside the sink, then he held the glass of water toward you. “Rinse with this,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to drink it yet.” You took it because refusing would require looking at him. Your fingers brushed his, and you pulled your hand away too quickly, making some of the water spill over the rim. “Sorry,” the word escaped you almost automatically. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Stop apologising.” You stared into the glass. He stood there for another second before clearing his throat. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” You looked up at him through the mirror. “What?” His expression changed slightly, as though he immediately regretted the way he had phrased it.

“Not like…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for the first time. “I just mean so I can hear you if you need anything. If you get sick again.” Your stomach dropped for a completely different reason. Humiliation crashed through you so quickly that your eyes stung all over again. To him, it was probably practical. He was worried because you had been in the hospital. He wanted to make sure you did not faint or choke or need help while he was asleep. But all you heard was that you could not be trusted alone. That you looked bad enough to need watching. That he had seen something in you that made him believe you were not safe in your own room. You swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” The words came out thin and unconvincing. Sunghoon looked at you. You could tell he did not believe you. He did not challenge you immediately, though. “Okay,” he said carefully. “But if you’re not, you can say so.” You nodded because you did not trust yourself to speak, before you drowned the glass and placed it back on the counter with shaky hands. Sunghoon watched you for a moment, then he stepped a little closer, still far away that he couldn’t touch you. “You don’t have to go back to your room,” he said quietly. “That’s all I meant.” You folded the towel over the metal rail, smoothing it twice even though it was already straight. “I know,” your voice was quiet, almost fragile as you answered. Sunghoon glanced down at the bucket beside the sink before looking back at you. “I can put this next to the bed,” he said. “Just in case.” You nodded again. He reached for it, then hesitated. “Do you want me to call Donghyuck?” “No.” Your answer came so quickly, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No,” you repeated, softer this time. “Please don’t tell him.” Something shifted in his expression, but he did not ask why. “Okay.” He picked up the bucket and stepped into the hallway. You stayed in front of the mirror for another second before you turned off the bathroom light and followed him outside. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ Sunghoon’s room was darker than yours. The curtains were pulled almost completely shut, only a thin strip of light slipping through where the fabric did not quite meet in the middle. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, tape, charger cables and one of his training jackets thrown carelessly over the back of the chair. A faint trace of his cologne still clung to the room, mixed with laundry detergent and the colder air from the AC. You stood near the doorway for a second, suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, being in here. You had helped him move into the room months ago. You had brought him coffee while he studied at his desk, stood in the doorway while talking to him, and occasionally walked in to steal one of his chargers after knocking. But you had never been inside his bed. Sunghoon placed the bucket on the floor beside the nightstand and moved one of the pillows closer to the wall. “You can take that side,” he said, gesturing toward it. “It’s closer to the bathroom.” You nodded. The practical explanation only made your embarrassment return. He must have noticed something in your expression because he quickly added, “Not because I think you’re going to be sick again. Just in case you get dizzy when you stand up.” “I know.” Your voice sounded small in the quiet room.

You climbed onto the mattress carefully, trying not to move too quickly. Your body still felt weak and uncertain beneath you, as if even sitting down required more coordination than it should have. Sunghoon pulled the blanket back for you before stepping away. You lowered yourself onto the far side of the bed, turning onto your side with your back toward the wall. The mattress dipped beneath your weight and smelled faintly like him. Clean fabric, shampoo and something warmer you could not identify. You pulled the blanket up to your chest. Sunghoon remained standing beside the bed for a moment, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “You can sleep,” you murmured. “You don’t have to watch me.” “I wasn’t going to watch you.” You turned your head enough to look at him. He was already frowning slightly, as if he had only just realised how strange that sounded. “I mean,” he added quickly, “I’m not going to sit there and stare at you.” Despite everything, a small breath of laughter left you. It barely made a sound, but Sunghoon’s shoulders loosened when he heard it. “Good,” you whispered. He nodded, then walked around the bed and lay down on the other side. The mattress shifted beneath him. Sunghoon stayed as close to the edge as possible, leaving a wide strip of untouched bedding between the two of you. There was enough room for another person to lie comfortably in the space separating your bodies. He turned onto his back and pulled the blanket up only as far as his waist. You remained on your side, facing the room. The room fell silent. You could hear the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock on his nightstand. Somewhere outside, a car drove past, its headlights briefly slipping through the gap in the curtains before disappearing again. You closed your eyes. Your body was exhausted. Every muscle felt heavy, your head still ached, and the cold emptiness in your stomach had been replaced by a dull soreness. You should have fallen asleep immediately. Instead, your mind refused to become quiet. You could still feel the edge of the toilet beneath your fingers. The bitter taste beneath the toothpaste. Sunghoon’s hand against your back. The way he had looked at you through the mirror. You pulled the blanket a little higher, pressing your lips together as if that could stop the memories from moving through your head. Minutes passed. You were not sure how many. Sunghoon shifted slightly on the other side of the bed. The movement was careful, almost hesitant, as though he was trying not to disturb you. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes opened. For a second, you thought you might have imagined it. You slowly turned your head toward him. Sunghoon was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms rested stiffly at his sides, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “For what?” His jaw moved slightly before he answered. “For convincing you to go.” Your brows drew together. “What?” “To the party.” His voice was quiet. “You didn’t want to go.” You turned onto your back so you could look at him properly. His profile was barely visible in the darkness. The line of his nose, the slight tension in his jaw, his eyes fixed stubbornly above him instead of looking in your direction.

“You had a migraine,” he continued. “You looked exhausted before we even left, and I still told you it would be fine.” “Sunghoon–” “I should’ve told you to stay home.” “No.” The word came out more firmly than anything you had said since leaving the hospital. Sunghoon finally looked at you. You pushed yourself slightly higher against the pillow. “No,” you repeated. “You didn’t do anything.” “I convinced you to come.” “And I’m glad you did.” He stared at you. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry your throat still felt. “I mean it,” you said. “It was fun.” His expression did not change. “At the beginning,” you added quickly. “When I was with you and your friends. And Jaemin. I was having fun.” Sunghoon’s brows pulled together. “You don’t have to make me feel better.” “I’m not,” you turned more toward him, ignoring the way the room shifted faintly with the movement. “I never go anywhere,” you said. “You know that. I work or study or stay at home. And I wanted to go. I was nervous, but I wanted to.” He looked unconvinced. “You said yourself that you didn’t like parties.” “I don’t usually.” “That’s not the point.” “It is,” you took a breath, trying to arrange your thoughts into something that made sense. “I had fun when Jake hugged me even though it almost killed me,” you murmured. “And when Jay started arguing with Jaemin about music. And when you made your team lose at beer pong the whole time because you kept throwing the ball everywhere else instead of the table.” Sunghoon’s mouth shifted faintly. “I wasn’t losing.” “You were terrible.” “I had one bad round.” “You missed the table with like every shot.” “It was crowded.” A tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. For a moment, the tension in the room eased. Then Sunghoon looked away again, and it disappeared. “You still wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked you.” You stared at him. “No,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t make it your fault.” He remained silent. The guilt in his expression made something uncomfortable twist in your chest. “It was mine.” Sunghoon turned his head sharply. “What?” You looked down at the blanket gathered beneath your hands. “It was my fault.” Sunghoon pushed himself onto one elbow. “No.” “I should have paid attention.” “No.” “I didn’t even think about having to watch my cup.” “Y/N.” “It was just water, right? Why would someone spike water?” Your voice began moving faster, the thoughts spilling out now that you had started. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to watch your drinks at parties. I was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention, and then everyone had to deal with it. You and Jaemin had to deal wth me being unconscious. You had to call the ambulance. Donghyuck left whatever party he was at and came in his costume. You missed training today and had to sit there all night because I–” “Stop.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through yours. You froze. He was fully turned toward you now, the empty space between you suddenly feeling smaller despite neither of you having moved closer. “That is not what happened.” You looked away. “It is.” “No,” his answer was immediate. “You had fun at a party and trusted the people around you to not have any bad intentions. That’s what you did.” “I should’ve been more careful,” you pressed your lips together.

Sunghoon’s voice stayed controlled, but there was something sharp beneath it now. Not anger directed at you, but anger that seemed to fill the space around him. “He put something in your drink,” he said. “He did that. You didn’t.” “I still drank it.” “Because you thought it was water.” “I should’ve noticed.” “How?” You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “How were you supposed to notice?” he asked again. “Was it supposed to smell different? Look different? Were you supposed to know what he was thinking?” You stared down at your hands. Sunghoon sat up slightly, his back resting against the headboard. “You trusted someone not to poison you,” he continued. “That isn’t a mistake.” Your throat tightened. “It feels like one.” “I know,” his voice was firm. “But it wasn’t, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault.” You blinked rapidly, refusing to look at him. “If I had been more careful–” “Then he might have done it to someone else.” You looked at him. Sunghoon’s face was difficult to read in the darkness, but his eyes were fixed on you. “That doesn’t make it better,” he said. “And it doesn’t make you responsible. It means he made a choice to hurt someone.” Your chest felt too tight“You don’t know that he wanted to hurt me.” “He drugged you,” his voice hardened again. “He watched you get confused. He watched you lose control of your body, and he still kept touching you.” Fragments flashed through your mind. A hand at your waist. A voice too close to your ear. The wall beneath your palm. Then Sunghoon’s voice cutting through the music. You squeezed your eyes shut. “That was his choice,” Sunghoon said. “Every part of it.” The mattress shifted. For a second, you thought he might move closer, but he did not. He remained on his side of the bed, leaving the space between you untouched. “Not yours,” he continued. “You didn’t choose to be drugged. None of this is your fault. It's not mine or Jaemin’s. It’s Intak’s fault.” You turned your face toward the wall again. The darkness blurred slightly as tears gathered in your eyes. Sunghoon was quiet for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “And you’re allowed to feel awful. You don’t have to be okay.” Your fingers tightened against the fabric. “You were drugged,” he said. “You woke up in a hospital without knowing what happened to you. You feel sick, and tired, and scared. You’re allowed to feel all of that.” A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and disappeared into the pillow. “You’re allowed to be angry,” he continued. “Or upset. Or disgusted. You’re allowed to hate everything right now.” His voice cracked slightly on the next sentence. “You don’t have to make it easier for us if it’s hard for you, Y/N.” That hurt more than you expected. You swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out of your mouth, because what were you supposed to say? You were you fine? The silence stretched between you, but he did not fill it immediately. He did not ask whether you understood. He did not make you promise that you believed him. He simply remained there, close enough that you could hear his breathing but far enough that you did not feel cornered. You stared at the wall. Your body still felt wrong. Your stomach was hurting, your throat was burning, shame was still sitting heavily beneath your skin. Nothing he had said made those feelings disappear.

But for the first time since waking in the hospital, you did not feel as though you had to argue with them. You did not have to insist that you were fine. You did not have to explain. You could simply lie there and feel horrible. A quiet sob caught in your chest. You pressed your face further into the pillow, trying to hide it. Sunghoon did not move closer. He did not reach across the space between you without asking. He did not try to fix it. He did not ask you to stop crying. He was simply there. And eventually, with your body still trembling faintly and his breathing steady behind you, exhaustion pulled you under.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

AN ──── FINALLY! ITS HERE! Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you all had a great time reading...at least the fluffy parts. The next parts could be tiggering even more to those suffering or healing from an ed, so i am advising you to not continue reading. Its gonna be very angsty. Also if anyone is wondering why this took so long, ill let you know tht just formatting this to tumrbl text format took me 3 hours and reading over the text before that took 2 1/2 hours 😀. So i'd be really gratefull to hear your thought, I need that lil dopaimne, please don't be a quiet reader 😔🫶🏻

Tuesday was supposed to be ordinary.

The kind of day that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. You finished your morning lecture, replied to a few student emails, stopped by the grocery store on your way home because you'd promised to cook dinner. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that hinted your life was quietly approaching a fault line.

The apartment was supposed to be empty.

You remembered that detail clearly later. He'd told you that morning, half asleep, mumbling something about a meeting running until six. You had the whole afternoon to yourself, or so you'd thought, planning the pasta you'd make, the wine you'd open, the ordinary comfort of a Tuesday night at home. 

You unlocked the front door as quietly as always, balancing a paper bag of groceries against your hip. Then you heard laughter. A woman's laugh, low and familiar, drifting down the hallway like something out of a memory you couldn't quite place. For one suspended heartbeat, your mind simply refused to process it 

Then it did. Your best friend.

You took another step down the hallway. The bedroom door wasn't completely closed. It didn't need to be. Some truths don't ask to be witnessed completely. You already understood, before your conscious mind caught up, that whatever was happening in that apartment wasn't meant for your ears. 

The quiet intimacy of two people who had forgotten the rest of the world existed. Neither of them heard it. Or maybe they did. You didn't stay long enough to find out. There were no questions. No tears. No dramatic confrontation worthy of a movie scene. Because what explanation could possibly undo what you'd already seen?. You turned around before they could notice you. The front door clicked shut behind you with barely a sound. 

Two years of engagement, gone.

Two years of wedding plans scattered across your dining table. Two years of apartment hunting, shared grocery lists, lazy Sunday mornings, and conversations about children you thought you'd have someday. 

You don’t remember the walk to your car. You remember sitting behind the steering wheel with the keys in your hand and staring blankly at the windshield as the city morphed into streaks of bright light. It was just a blur of street lamps, head lights, and everything moving around you while your world was standing still. For a brief moment, you noticed that your hands weren’t shaking. You thought that was strange too. The way that your body had just suddenly gone still and cold and you were just as motionless as your body, like a state of shock had frozen you just outside of the situation.

You couldn’t say how long it was, but what you knew was that you suddenly found yourself standing in front of your closet. Your eyes were drawn to what was at the very back and hidden from view, your black dress. You hadn’t seen it for years.

"It's a little too much," he'd once said with an easy laugh.

"Too short."

"Too noticeable."

You remembered smiling then, folding the dress away because it hadn't seemed important enough to argue about.

You pulled it from the closet and let it fall over your body, the fabric cool and unfamiliar against your skin, hugging you in ways you'd forgotten you were allowed to be seen. It felt like putting on a stranger. Someone who wasn't trying to be agreeable anymore. Someone who had nothing left to protect and nothing left to lose.  You left the engagement ring where it was.

After leaving your phone in your purse, you grabbed your keys for the second time and stepped into the dark. You had no idea where you were headed but felt a certainty in your chest about leaving the life you had. You felt like you could not spend one more moment inside the life that no longer felt like it belonged to you.  

.

.

.

Tuesday hadn't given him any warning either.

Jungwon's shift had ended late. A delivery that ran longer than expected, hours stretched thin by complications that weren't anyone's fault, just the unpredictable nature of the job. By the time he clocked out, his scrubs still smelled faintly of antiseptic, his feet aching in a way that had become so routine he barely registered it anymore. All he wanted was his own bed, maybe food he didn't have to think about. 

He let himself into her apartment with the key she'd given him two years ago, the metal worn smooth from years in his pocket, attached to a keychain shaped like a tiny stethoscope. A joke gift from early in their relationship, something she'd laughed about giving him, something he'd kept clipped to his keys ever since without really thinking about why. 

The shower was running. Her tablet was face up on the kitchen counter, screen still lit from a notification. He hadn't meant to look. He told himself that for weeks afterward, though it stopped mattering fairly quickly whether he'd meant to or not.

A name he recognized. A string of messages that didn't need much context. Photos that answered questions he hadn't known to ask. He stood there in his work clothes, badge still clipped to his coat pocket, and read enough to understand that ‘residency's exhausting’ had been covering for something else entirely for months, maybe longer.

He didn't move at all, actually, just stood there in the kitchen with his hands loose at his sides, feeling something inside his chest go very still and cold. He didn't throw the tablet. 

She stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, damp hair pushed back, and stopped short in the doorway when she saw Jungwon standing there. Badge still clipped to his coat pocket, tablet lying face up on the counter exactly where she'd left it. Something in his stillness told her immediately that the evening wasn't going to go the way she'd planned.

"Jungwon?" Her voice came out careful, testing. "You're back early."

He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, and she followed his gaze to the tablet, and whatever color was left in her face drained out of it in an instant.

"How long," he said. Not a question. A statement in the shape of a question.

"I—" She pulled the towel tighter around herself, a reflexive gesture, like modesty mattered now, of all moments. "Jungwon, it's not—"

"Don't." His voice remained quiet and level, the same tone he used when he had to tell a patient's family something they didn't want to hear. "Don't tell me it's not what it looks like. I read enough."

Her mouth opened, then closed. For a long moment, the only sound in the apartment was water still dripping somewhere in the bathroom behind her.

"How long," he said again.

She sat down slowly on the arm of the couch, like her legs had stopped being reliable. "Since spring," she said quietly. "Maybe a little before that."

"Spring." He turned the word over like he was checking it for a fracture. "Daeun, that's eight months."

"I didn't plan for it to happen." Her voice cracked slightly, and he almost hated how convincing it sounded, how rehearsed and unrehearsed all at once. "We were just–we started as friends, and then residency got so heavy, and you were always working, and he was just there, and I don't know, it just…"

"I was working," he repeated flatly. "Right. Because I have a job that saves lives, and that's the excuse."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" His voice finally rose. "Because from where I'm standing, you've had eight months to tell me. Eight months of me asking if you were okay, if something was wrong, and you telling me it was just residency. Eight months of me believing you."

She didn't answer that. There wasn't an answer that would have helped her.

"Six years," he said, quieter now, almost to himself. "Six years, and I find out like this. Off a notification on your tablet."

"I was going to tell you." Her eyes were wet now, genuinely, and some old, tired part of him almost felt sorry for her, which made him angrier at himself than at her. "I've been trying to figure out how, for weeks, I swear—"

"Don't," he said again, softer this time, because he didn't have the energy left to argue about her intentions. "It doesn't matter anymore. You could've told me in June. You could've told me in September. You didn't." He stopped, pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his eyes, then dropped it. "That's the part that matters."

"Jungwon…"

"I have to go." He was already reaching for his coat.

"Can we at least talk about this properly? Please. Don't just walk out,"

He paused at the door, hand on the frame, and looked back at her.  Tear streaked, still somehow looking for a version of this conversation that ended somewhere softer than where it actually was.

"There isn't a version of this where I stay, and we talk it through.”

"So that's it?" Her voice cracked properly now. "Six years, and you're just leaving? No fighting for it?"

He almost laughed, though nothing about it felt funny. "You didn't fight for it either," he said quietly. "Not for eight months."

He didn't wait for her response. The door closed behind him just shut, quiet and final, the same way the whole relationship seemed to be ending: without the drama it probably deserved, just a soft, ordinary sound marking something enormous coming apart.

He drove without any destination in mind, the radio off, the city sliding past in a blur of red lights, he stopped out of habit rather than attention. Six years. He kept circling back to the number like it might rearrange itself into something smaller, something easier to hold.

He ended up parking outside a bar he'd never been to. Not his usual place near the hospital, where someone always seemed to know his face even without the coat. Tonight, he didn't want to be recognized. He didn't want to be Dr. Yang, careful and composed, the boy faced physician everyone had to double take before trusting. He just wanted to sit somewhere dark and stop being anyone in particular for a while.

He loosened his tie in the car before he went in. Small, useless gesture. It didn't make him feel any less, as something had just been quietly taken from him.

.

.

.

The bar was louder than you expected for a Tuesday, but you didn't care. Noise was better than silence. Silence gave you room to think, and thinking was the last thing you wanted tonight.

By the time the bartender slid your fourth glass across the counter, the sharp edges of the evening had softened. The ache in your chest hadn't disappeared; it had simply become distant, like hearing thunder several miles away.  You shifted on the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. The black dress rode a little higher against your thigh, and for the first time in years, you didn't bother tugging it back down.

He would've hated that. The thought came uninvited. You emptied the rest of your drink before it could linger. 

That's when he sat down beside you. Close enough that you noticed before you even looked. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Your second was that he looked far too young to be sitting alone in a place like this. His white dress shirt was neatly pressed except for the loosened tie hanging around his neck, as though he'd started the evening trying to hold himself together and abandoned the effort somewhere along the way. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, exposing tired hands wrapped loosely around a glass he barely touched.

His gaze remained fixed on the amber liquid, unfocused, like he expected answers to settle at the bottom if he waited long enough. There was something strangely familiar about the way sadness sat on him. You almost didn't say anything. Almost.

You looked away. It wasn't your business. You weren't here to notice strangers. You were here to forget yourself. A minute passed, or maybe two. The bartender asked if either of you wanted another round. Neither of you answered. Without thinking, you let out a quiet breath.

"You look like you got dumped."

The words escaped before you could decide whether to keep them. Your voice came out flatter than you'd intended, stripped of humor, carrying more exhaustion than wit.

He turned toward you. Not offended, just surprised. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. His eyes searched your face, lingering there with quiet curiosity, as though he couldn't decide if you were teasing him or speaking from experience. Then his gaze drifted lower to the diamond still resting on your left hand. A ring that caught the warm bar lights just enough to betray you. One corner of his mouth lifted into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"You still have your ring on," he said softly.

You followed his gaze, staring at the diamond as though you'd forgotten it was there. For a long moment, you simply twisted it around your finger.

"I forgot to take it off."

It wasn't entirely true. You hadn't forgotten. You just hadn't found the courage. His eyes met yours again.

"You look like you got dumped too."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"I did."

He gave a slow nod.

"So did I."

The words settled between you with the quiet understanding that only strangers could sometimes share. Neither of you asked for details or explanations. For tonight, it was enough to know that the person sitting beside you understood exactly what heartbreak looked like.

He glanced at your empty glass. "Another?"

You shook your head. "I think I've had enough of pretending a drink is going to fix anything."

Something about that made him almost smile, the first real one you'd seen from him all night, small and tired but genuine. "Yeah,me too."

The bartender came by again, and this time Jungwon was the one who waved him off, reaching instead for his wallet. You didn't argue when he paid for both of you. Some nights, you didn't have the energy left to insist on independence.

Outside, the air was cooler than you expected, sharp enough to cut through the haze just slightly. Neither of you moved toward a taxi right away. You just stood there for a moment under the bar's dim sign, the city noise a distant hum around you, both of you clearly aware that the night hadn't decided yet what it wanted to become.

"I don't usually do this," you said, not quite looking at him.

"Do what?"

"Any of this. Bars. Strangers. Standing outside at midnight, not knowing what I'm doing."

"Neither do I," he said. Then, after a pause, quieter, "I don't want to go home yet, though."

You understood exactly what he meant, because you felt the same thing sitting heavy in your chest. Home wasn't home anymore. Home was an apartment with echoes you couldn't bear to hear. Home meant seeing the engagement ring still circling your finger. Home meant admitting that tomorrow would arrive whether you wanted it to or not. For the first time that evening, you really looked at him.

He couldn't have been much younger than thirty, though his face carried an unmistakable softness that made him seem younger than he probably was. His tie still hung loose around his neck, his hair slightly disheveled, exhaustion written plainly across features that were almost unfairly handsome. 

He looked as though someone had reached into his life that morning and quietly removed the future he'd expected. That may be why he looked familiar.

"There's a hotel two blocks from here," you said.

He didn't ask if you were sure. He just nodded, like he'd been waiting for someone to say it first.

Neither of you filled the silence with questions about names, jobs, or the people who had broken your hearts. Some things felt strangely unimportant. Inside the elevator, your shoulders brushed for the first time. Neither of you moved away. 

The door had barely clicked shut before the tension that had been simmering between you in the elevator boiled over. There was no slow buildup, no romantic preamble; there was only a desperate, starving need to feel something other than the hollow ache in your chests.

Jungwon turned to you, his face flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the moment. He looked so young, almost innocent, but the look in his eyes was raw and hungry. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss that tasted of whiskey and grief. It was a collision, teeth clashing, breaths hitching as you both clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.

You groaned into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn't a sliver of air between your bodies. He backed you up against the door, the thud of your back hitting the wood echoing in the quiet room. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming your mouth with an urgency that made your toes curl.

"Please," you whispered against his lips, though you weren't even sure what you were asking for.

He didn't answer with words. His hands slid down to your hips, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up to your hips as he carried you toward the bed. He dropped you onto the white linens, his body following immediately, pinning you down with a weight that felt grounding and necessary.

Jungwon’s hands were frantic, stripping away the barriers of clothing. He pulled your dress over your head and tossed it aside, his eyes scanning your naked body with a mixture of awe and desperation. When he stripped off his own clothes, you saw the lean, toned muscles of a man who didn't look his age, his cock already hard and pulsing, straining against the air.

He didn't waste time. He moved between your thighs, his fingers sliding down to find your pussy. You were already soaking, the friction of the night and the emotional turmoil making you ache for him. He slid two fingers inside you, stretching you open, while his thumb worked your clit in a rhythmic, punishing pace. You arched your back, a loud moan escaping you as you neared the edge.

"Look at me," he murmured.

You opened your eyes to see him watching you, his expression a mask of longing. He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, pausing for a heartbeat before thrusting deep inside you in one heavy, seamless motion.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming. The stretch, the heat, the sudden fullness that silenced the noise in your head. He began to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, driving into you with a primal intensity. Each hit of his pelvis against your ass sounded like a wet slap in the quiet room.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel so good… shit, so tight…"

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another bruising kiss as he picked up the pace. He wasn't being gentle; he was fucking you with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if by driving himself into you, he could push out the memory of the woman who had betrayed him. You met every thrust, tilting your pelvis up to take him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him.

The friction built, a coil of tension tightening in your lower belly. Jungwon’s movements became shorter, faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He shifted his grip, grabbing your thighs and pinning them back toward your chest to open you up even more. The angle allowed him to hit your cervix with every plunge, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your spine.

"I'm close—" he choked out, his muscles straining.

You felt your own climax rushing toward you, a tidal wave of release. You gripped his biceps, your voice breaking into a series of high-pitched whimpers. As you peaked, your pussy walls clamping tight around him in rhythmic spasms, Jungwon let out a low, guttural growl. He gave one final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and shuddered violently as he came.

You felt the hot, thick jets of his cum pumping deep inside you, filling your womb with a warmth that felt almost spiritual in its intensity. He stayed buried inside you for a long time, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, your hearts beating in a synchronized, frantic rhythm.

As the adrenaline faded, the silence returned, but it was different now. The loneliness was still there, but it had been blunted. Jungwon slowly withdrew, the wet sound of his cock leaving your body echoing in the room. He didn't pull away completely; he rolled onto his side and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

Neither of you spoke. There were no names exchanged, no promises of a second meeting. You just lay there in the dim light of the hotel room, two broken strangers sharing a bed, clinging to the fleeting comfort of a night that neither of you would ever forget.

.

.

.

A month passed by.

Long enough for the memory of that night to start to blur at the edges. Sometimes you thought you invented some of it.

You remembered the warmth of whiskey better than you remembered his face. His tie, loosened. How he’d just listened, without asking questions. A pair of tired eyes that had looked at you as if they knew something that nobody else knew.

All else had blurred, melting into the sort of memory that belonged to another version of you. You never came back to the bar. If he did, you wouldn't know it. And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have known that either. That was maybe how it was always supposed to be. Life went on, as indifferent as ever. 

Life had moved on, in its own stubborn manner. You got out of the apartment. You’d gone and blocked your ex-fiancée’s number. You weren't going to speak to your ex-bestfriend, and you hadn't. It was a mercy in itself. Your students didn't know that anything was different. They looked at you like you were just their lecturer. Untroubled. Unbreakable.

You could almost pretend your life hadn’t fallen apart. For three hours at a time. That was enough. Until it wasn’t. It began on a Thursday. Not with nausea or vertigo. Only a date. 

You were standing in your kitchen, waiting on the coffee machine to finish brewing, when the thought came unbidden. Your monthly. Your brow wrinkled. You counted backwards, almost absentmindedly. Then you counted again. The answer was the same. It's late.

This was not normal.

Your body was always predictable, almost stubbornly so. Even in college, when your roommates complained about irregular cycles and surprise cramps, yours came like clockwork, and you didn’t bother tracking it anymore. You put your coffee mug down, untouched. 

"It's the stress," you whispered to the empty apartment. It must have been. 

It made sense, didn't it? The breakup, the move, months of your nervous system running on fumes. Bodies did strange things under pressure. You'd read that somewhere, or maybe you just wanted to have read it somewhere. 

You gave it a few more days. Then a week. The coffee you'd started craving black suddenly turned your stomach. Smells you'd never noticed before. The neighbor's cooking, the detergent in your own laundry, sent you running for air that didn't feel like it was choking you. 

One day a co-worker came into your office with take out. The smell alone would have you running for the nearest bathroom. You said it was the flu. Food poisoning.  Anything.  All of it. Except for that one possibility that’s silently trailing you from room to room.

By the time you found yourself standing in the pharmacy aisle staring at a shelf of boxes you never had reason to buy before, some quiet part of you, dreading, already knew. 

You stood in front of the shelf longer than you needed to. So many different brands. Different promises. Different prices. As though any of them could deliver a different answer. You bought two.

As soon as you were home, you didn't wait long to do. Sat on the side of the bathtub, phone timer ticking away before you began to look at your hands and realise they weren't even yours.

Two lines. Then two more.

You sat there for a long time after that, the tile cold beneath you, your mind doing the math it didn't want to do.  The date, the timeline, the one night that had blurred into something you'd tried hard to forget. There was only one night it could have been.

Your heartbeat stumbled.

"No..."

The word escaped before you realized you'd spoken aloud.

You remained there for what felt like hours, staring at the tests resting in your hands as though they belonged to someone else. 

There was only one person. One night. One stranger, with tired eyes and a loosened tie and a sadness that had looked so much like your own it hadn't frightened you. You didn't even remember his name. You didn't know his address. What was his work. If you'd ever see him again.  You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. A man who existed in your memory as nothing more than tired eyes and a loosened tie, and you look like you got dumped, too.

You didn't know how to find him even if you'd wanted to.

A baby.

The words refused to settle. They hovered somewhere just beyond understanding, too large to fit into the quiet routine you'd been stitching back together over the last month. You were thirty two. Recently single. Still learning how to sleep in an apartment that echoed because there was no one else in it.

You'd spent years building a career you loved, teaching future educators how to nurture children with patience, consistency, and kindness. Ironically, you'd never decided whether motherhood belonged in your own future. You always assumed there would be time to figure it out.

You thought you had more time to decide that. You thought, if it ever happened, it would happen with someone you trusted, someone who'd chosen it with you, not a stranger from a bar whose last name you didn't even know. 

You thought about how easy it would be to end it before anyone had to know it happened at all. No one would ask questions. No one would even know there was something to ask about. You could keep moving forward exactly the way you'd planned, pick your life back up, untangled, unremarkable, the way it was supposed to look after a breakup like this. Clean. Simple.

You sat with that thought for a while, testing its weight, waiting to feel relief.

It didn't come.

Instead, you found yourself thinking about your own mother, who used to tell you that she'd never once regretted having you. Even though your father had left before you turned three. Hardest thing I ever did alone, she'd said once, and still the only decision I never doubted. You'd never fully understood what she meant by that until this exact moment, sitting on a bathroom floor with a truth in your hands you hadn't asked for.

You thought about the years you'd spent in classrooms full of small kids who trusted easily, loved easily, hadn't yet learned that people could hollow you out from the inside without warning. You'd built a career around believing children deserved good beginnings. You wondered, cruelly, whether you were about to fail that belief the moment it became personal.

Then you thought about the alternative. The quiet, empty version of your future you'd have to live with either way. A yes, you might regret, or a no, you were fairly sure you would.

You pressed a hand flat against your stomach, feeling nothing yet, nothing you could point to, and still somehow feeling everything.

A slow breath escaped you.

"I don't need him."

The words were barely louder than a whisper. You said them again.

"I don't."

You weren't trying to convince yourself. You already knew they were true. You didn't need a husband. You didn't need a wedding. You didn't need promises made by someone else to make this decision for you. If this child entered the world, it would be because you chose them. Not because of guilt.

You knew exactly what waited beyond this bathroom door. Questions, whispers and mostly it would be judgment. Forms with blank spaces labeled Father. A future that would be more difficult than the one you'd imagined for yourself. None of that disappeared simply because you'd made a decision. But neither did your resolve.

For the first time since walking into that apartment on Tuesday afternoon, you realized your future no longer felt defined by something that had been taken from you. It was being shaped by something you had chosen. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked exhausted. Your eyes were swollen, your hair a mess, your expression still carrying traces of the woman who'd had her heart broken.

But beneath all of that, there was something new. Resolve. You rested your hand over your stomach once more.

"Okay," you whispered to the tiny life only you knew existed.

A faint smile tugged at your lips despite everything.

"It's you and me now."

The words sounded impossibly small in the quiet apartment. Yet,  somehow, they were enough.

.

.

.

The dream came to him three nights in a row.  Always the same, dissolving the moment he woke, leaving only fragments behind the way real dreams rarely do.

In it, he stood in a garden he didn't recognize, thick with fruit trees heavy enough that their branches bent low toward the ground. A woman he couldn't see clearly handed him a single peach, round and impossibly ripe, still warm like it had just been pulled from sunlight rather than a branch. 

He always woke up right after that. Nothing more happened. It didn't need to.

He didn't think much of it, not really. After all, dreams rarely made sense, and he'd learned a long time ago not to chase meaning where there probably wasn't any. Still, on the fourth morning, he found himself mentioning it to Sunoo over coffee in the hospital break room, mostly out of the strange, itching need to say it out loud to someone.

"I keep having this dream," he said, staring into his cup. "Same one, a few nights now. There's a garden, and someone hands me a peach. That's it. That's the whole dream."

Sunoo lowered his own cup slowly, staring at him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and barely contained excitement. "A peach?"

"Yeah."

"Ripe? Whole? Someone handed it to you directly?"

Jungwon blinked at him. "Yes? Why does that matter?"

Sunoo set his coffee down entirely now, leaning forward like Jungwon had just handed him the best gossip of the year. "Do you seriously not know what that is?"

"It's a dream about fruit?"

Honestly, Sunoo never wanted to face palmed himself, but hearing the dumb answer Jungwon gave him got him a reason to. 

"It's a taemong." When Jungwon only stared blankly back at him, Sunoo let out a groan of disbelief. "A conception dream. My grandmother used to talk about these constantly. Fruit, animals, sometimes fire or water, show up in a dream right before someone in the family finds out they're having a baby. Whole ripe fruit like that, handed directly to you? That's about as classic as it gets."

Jungwon huffed, unimpressed, turning his cup slowly between his hands. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious. It's not just some old wives' thing.  Half the moms I know still swear by it. My cousin dreamed about catching a fish barehanded, and two weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. My aunt dreamed about a dragon curling around her arm and had twins."

"That's confirmation bias," Jungwon said flatly. "People remember the dreams that match and forget the ones that don't."

"Sure, sure, very scientific of you, Dr. Yang." Sunoo waved a hand, entirely unbothered by the skepticism. "But you're not the one who usually has these dreams, that's the funny part. It's not always the mother. Sometimes it's the father, or a grandparent, sometimes even a close friend if the dream's strong enough. But if it's the father dreaming it..." He trailed off, grinning now, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "That usually means it's already happened. The universe is just running a little behind on paperwork."

Jungwon rolled his eyes, though something in his chest had gone strangely tight at the words, an unease he couldn't quite explain rationally. "I don't believe in that stuff."

"You don't have to believe in it for it to be true," Sunoo said, entirely too pleased with himself. "That's kind of the whole point of a folktale, isn’t it?"

Jungwon didn't have a response for that. He just sat there, turning his coffee cup slowly in his hands, telling himself it was nothing. Probably just stress, exhaustion, and an overactive mind conjuring strange images after too many back to back shifts. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore. There was no one in his life the dream could reasonably be about.

He didn't let himself finish that thought all the way through.

"It's nothing," he said again, mostly to convince himself. "Just a weird dream."

Sunoo shrugged, tossing his empty cup toward the trash with practiced ease, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go. "Sure. Just a weird dream."

Jungwon didn't think much more of it after that. Not consciously, anyway. But the image stayed with him regardless, lingering somewhere quiet at the edges of his following days.  A garden, a peach, and a stranger's hands offering him something he hadn't known, yet, that he was already holding.

.

.

.

The clinic wasn't one you'd been to before.

A coworker had recommended it months ago, so excited about the obstetrics department that you'd written the name down without a second thought. It was near campus, near enough to squeeze in an appointment between lectures without sacrificing half your day to traffic.

You wish. That was it. Comfort. Distance from your former life. A doctor who didn’t know your story. Somebody who would see one more first time patient. That's all.

You sat, one leg bouncing under your chair, fingertips tracing the edge of the bracelet wrapped loosely about your wrist. You'd practiced the appointment on the drive over. If they asked about the father, you would tell them as you have been rehearsing it in your mind. 

We're not together.

If they pressed further, then—

I'd rather not discuss it.

Simple.

"Y/L/N?"

A nurse called your name, and you followed her down a hallway that smelled like antiseptic and lavender hand soap, into a small exam room with a poster of a fetal development chart on the wall that you deliberately didn't look at too long.

"Dr. Yang will be with you in just a moment," the nurse said, and left you there with your paper gown and your racing thoughts.

You didn't think anything of the name. Yang wasn't uncommon. You sat on the edge of the exam table, hands folded in your lap, running through the questions you wanted to ask — due dates, next steps, whether the exhaustion you'd been feeling was normal or something to worry about.

Then the door opened.

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Yang Jung—"

The sentence didn't finish. It just stopped, cut clean in half, the way a record scratches when the needle's yanked away too fast.

You looked up. And your whole body went cold.

He remained frozen in the doorway, one hand still curled around the handle like he'd forgotten how to let go of it. The patient chart in his other hand slipped slightly in his grip, not enough to fall, just enough that you noticed his fingers had momentarily stopped remembering their one job. Recognition moved across his face almost instantly, undisguised, unrehearsed, nothing like the practiced composure a doctor was supposed to walk into a room with.

The overhead lights were full on him now. Clinical, unfriendly, not like the dim gold haze of that bar a month ago. No booze to take the edge off. No shadows to hide the details And you couldn’t miss him. Same face. Same eyes that witnessed you break against a hotel room door. Quiet and searching, in a way that had seemed to him that night the only honest thing left in the world. Except the face was on a man in a white coat. A stethoscope draped around his neck. His name stitched in careful navy thread over his heart.

Yang Jungwon.

Neither of you said anything. The seconds stretched, thin and unbearable, the fluorescent hum of the room suddenly deafening in the silence. As if hoping he was mistaken. He wasn't.

"...You?"

It barely qualified as a word. More breath than voice. Your mouth had gone completely dry. The sentence never got a chance to finish. Neither of you needed it to.

You weren't doing much better. Your hands had grown cold, and sat in your lap, fingers pressed together hard enough to leave imprints. The paper gown crackled a little with each too-quick breath. You’d spent a month talking yourself into believing that night belonged to some other you, reckless and grieving and gone by morning. And here he was, a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck, his name stitched over his heart, undeniably real, undeniably the same man.

Neither of you said anything. 

His gaze dropped. Not to the chart. To your left hand. The engagement ring was gone. Then, almost involuntarily, his eyes moved lower. To the file tucked beneath his arm. He looked at your name. Gestational age. Estimated conception date. The room became impossibly quiet. His jaw tightened. Not because he was calculating. Because he already had. He didn't need the dates. He remembered the night. The chart simply confirmed what he already knew.

“quit your bitching.” ni-ki snarled, the warning barely leaving his lips before he mounted you. he’s pinned you beneath him with little effort, his broad frame swallowing your quivering one. a heavy clawed palm dug straight into your scalp, forcing your flushed cheeks against the hard floor as his weight settled over you. his thick cock plunging into your sopping cunt, the barbed ridges scraping against your gummy walls so good it hurts.

“ah! nononono- stop! i can’t i can’t hah!” you squeaked out, your floppy white ears flattening instinctively against your head as you kick out underneath him in fear. but it was useless. his lips peeled back exposing the sharp canines underneath to clamp down onto the supple skin at the junction between your neck and shoulder. as much as you hate to admit it the feeling of him marking you has you paralysed in his rough grip, cheeks burning and bunny tail twitching as you pant softly.

“yes you can. dumb bunny, just look at you.” he scoffs, his long tail lazily winding around one of your legs before a clawed hand tugs harshly at one of your ears. a sharp yelp leaves your pouty lips as tears prickled your doe eyes in pain. “you were made for this, mm, my cocksleeve.” the words almost purring into your ears, tongue slipping in and out of your sensitive ears that made you squirm at the unfamiliar sensation.

“m-mean! hic, you’re so mean!” you sobbed, foot thumping down uselessly onto the old floor as you try to squirm away from him once more. but you didn’t get far before ni-ki laughed at your pathetic attempt to escape. he hauls you up by the ears as if you weighed nothing, pulling you back until you were trapped against his chest. thick biceps locked beneath your chin, putting you in a chokehold whilst you cling weakly onto the strong muscle. one hand flew to your your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the stupid moans leaving your mouth but it was hopeless. ni-ki's cock fucking into you sosososo deep you could feel it in your stomach. the urge to fight back was slowly melting away until you found yourself slumping against him instead, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

“pretty bunny.” he purred, two clawed fingers hooking into your mouth, forcing your jaw open as they lazily traced over your teeth and along your gums.

“fuck,” he growls, rutting into you harshly, your bunny slick coating your lower halves making the most obscene noises to your embarrassed ears. ni-ki doesn't stop playing with your ears, nipping on them with his canines to pulling on them to make you wince. his blond hair tickling the sides of your face, as he leans round to look at your trembling face. that initial look of fear now melting into a blissed fucked out state, brain turned to mush and eyes glassy. ni-ki groans at the pretty sight before licking up the salty tracks your tears left behind, the rough almost sandpaper like texture making you keen. “gonna fill you up, pretty bunny will bear my cubs, hm? you’ll take it.” he muttered. you shook your head feverishly but the creamy frothy ring at the base of his bulging cock says otherwise.

your tiny pussy couldn’t handle the whole load, ni-ki's hips stuttering as thick spurts of cum filled you up, a bulge forming in your lower stomach at the sheer amount. body twitching in the after effects as he retracted his claws now. one large hand smoothing the hair strands he ruined earlier across your head. a thumb brushing against your damp cheek. almost lovingly? another deep purr, louder than before vibrated through your twitching body before he pulled you off his cock, the bulbous red tip still dribbling out cum. ni-ki's grip on you loosened, his holden eyes lingering on you but it’s ok! because a stupid little bunny like you wouldn’t dare try to run away again, right? ♡

The past three months had honestly been the best three months of your marriage.

Not perfect, Riki's life would probably never allow for perfect. You still had to spend days in boring meetings about drugs and cash. People still feared him. Problems still landed on his desk every day.

But after that night, the night Kento died. The two of you had talked for hours that night. About the future. About fear, about what kind of man he wanted to be, about what kind of life the two of you wanted together.

Riki was still Riki, but he started trying.

He worked less. Handing responsibilities off whenever he could. He stopped attending meetings that didn't absolutely require his presence. 

Sometimes you'd walk into his office expecting to find him buried in paperwork, only to find him stretched out on the couch waiting for you because he'd decided he'd worked enough for the day.

You'd gotten closer too. Not that the two of you had ever struggled with affection, with Riki practically living attached to your side. But the two of you spent more time together than ever before. You'd never been closer. Never been more in love.

Tonight was one of those nights. Riki had given the cook the evening off apparently because he wanted to cook himself.

Though you were pretty sure part of the reason was that he wanted an excuse to walk around the house shirtless all evening. The man wasn't subtle. He'd spent the entire time cooking in nothing but comfortable black pants and a dark robe hanging open over his shoulders.

Now dinner was finished. The two of you sat across from each other at the dining table.

Your foot kept brushing against his leg underneath it, ack and forth. Sometimes around his ankle, sometimes up his calf. Riki kept acting like he wasn't affected by it but the slight smirk on his face said otherwise.

Until eventually Riki stood up and collected both plates.You shake your head immediately.

"You cooked. I'll clean."

"No." His answer came before you'd even finished speaking.

"Riki."

"No." He gently squeezed the back of your neck as he walked past. "You go relax. Go take a bath." You looked up at him. "A bath?"

"Mhm." His thumb brushed your skin. "I'll clean everything up."

So while Riki disappeared toward the kitchen, you headed upstairs.

The master bathroom was probably one of the prettiest rooms in the entire house. Everything about it felt warm. A massive soaking tub sat beneath an arched window. Across from it is a long marble vanity cluttered with expensive perfumes, skincare products, and the little decorative items you collected over the years. 

You turn on the faucet and watch steaming water begin filling the tub.Soft jazz starts playing from the speaker on the vanity and light a candle next.

You grabbed the shower gel and squeezed a few drops into the running water. Probably more than necessary, but you liked the sweet vanilla smell. The bubbles started forming immediately.

Then your eyes drifted toward the mirror. You stood in front of it and your silk robe slid from your shoulders. You turned slightly sideways and one hand settled against your lower stomach. Studying your reflection. A small smile pulled at your lips.

The tub was nearly full now. You stepped out of the robe completely and carefully lowered yourself into the water. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes.

By the time you come downstairs, your hair is still damp from the bath, falling over your shoulders. A butter-yellow nightgown brushes against your thighs with every step. The matching robe hangs open and loose around your body, and your gold necklace rests against your skin, the pendant disappearing into the neckline.

The house is quiet except for the sound of Riki moving around the kitchen. He's wiping down the counter when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Before he can turn around, two arms suddenly wrap around his waist. Riki lets out a surprised chuckle.

"There she is."

You squeeze him tighter. His hand immediately settles over yours. Standing on your toes, you lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for doing the dishes."

"Hm. You're welcome." You smile against his shoulder before letting go.

In the old wooden cabinet in the corner of the rooms stands a radio and a collection of CDs you've both gathered over the years. You open it, flipping through them until you find the one you're looking for. A second later, old jazz music fills the room. You turn the volume up a little higher than necessary.

Riki is still standing in the kitchen looking directly at you. His eyes slowly travel over your figure. Taking his time. You fight back a smile, then hold both hands out toward him. No words needed. Riki immediately knows what you want. You wiggle your fingers impatiently.

"Come here."

He laughs softly, then starts walking toward you.

His hands slide around your waist underneath the robe. Warm palms settling against your sides. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck.

And the two of you slowly start moving to the music. Your bare are feet gliding across the cold marble floor. Riki's gaze never really leaves your face, just admiring your beauty. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your side.

Eventually one of his hands leaves your waist, sliding up to smooth a few damp strands of hair behind your ear.  Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile immediately and rest your head against his shoulder. Riki's chin settles lightly on top of your head and you both close your eyes.

Neither of you talks, just feel hum of the music and the warmth of your bodies so close together and keep swaying slowly through the living room.

After a moment, he buries his face against the side of your neck and takes a good sniff.

"Mm. You smell so good."

You chuckle softly. His voice is muffled against your skin. "You smell like vanilla."

"That's because I just spent an hour bathing in vanilla."

"Hm."

One of his hands slides upward and catches on your necklace. His finger traces the thin gold chain, following it all the way down before letting it slip through his fingers again. He holds your chin lightly between his index finger and his thumbb and he looks at you for a second, before his hands start wandering off again.

They slide slowly down your spine and he lets them rest on your lower back.  You can feel how relaxed he is. A version of him almost nobody else ever gets to see.

And that's when your stomach flips, because you've been waiting for the right moment all evening. Maybe all week.  Every time you'd almost said it, something interrupted. A phone call. A meeting. A visitor. But now it's just the two of you and you can't keep it to yourself anymore.

"Riki."

"Hm?" His eyes stay closed.

"I have to tell you something."

That gets his attention. He pulls back slightly. Both hands settling properly on your sides as he looks down at you. "What?"

For a second you can't speak. Your throat feels tight, your eyes already sting. Which is ridiculous. You've rehearsed this conversation in your head a hundred times. Yet now that it's actually happening, all your words disappear.

Riki notices immediately and his expression shifts. Concern replacing the relaxed smile.

"Baby?"

You let out a shaky laugh. Then another. And somehow that turns into tears. His eyebrows pull together instantly. "Hey." One hand comes up to your cheek. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head. Nothing’s wrong. A laugh escapes you through the tears.

Then finally—

"I'm pregnant."

The room suddenly feels very quiet. Riki just looks at you like his brain is trying to catch up.

"Really?" The smile starts before he even finishes speaking. You nod.

Tears immediately spilling over. "Yes." Your voice wobbles. "I took a test a few days ago."

Then he laughs. Completely caught off guard. His hands grab your face.

"Really?" You start laughing too. "Yes, really."

The smile on his face gets even bigger. You don't think you've ever seen him smile like that before. Then suddenly his hands slide to your waist. Before you can react, you're lifted completely off the ground.

"Riki!" He spins you around once and your laughter fills the room. For one of the only times in his life, he feels like nothing else in the world matters. Just you and the tiny secret you've been carrying for days.

— 

The next few months felt like a completely different life for both of you.

The pregnancy changed everything. The way he'd suddenly become interested in things he'd never cared about before. Doctors appointments. Baby names. Cribs. Tiny clothes. Tiny clothes especially. You caught him staring at baby shoes for ten straight minutes once, then pretending he wasn't.

It was the happiest you'd ever seen him. Genuinely. Even the people around him noticed. His employees noticed. His men noticed. The people in the office definitely noticed.

Especially his assistant Kenji. Poor Kenji nearly had a heart attack the first time Riki thanked him for something. A simple thank you. That's all it was. Yet Kenji had stood there looking so confused that Riki ended up laughing at him. The entire office talked about it for a week.

Things were good, really good. You were building a family. A future. The kind of future the two of you had spent years talking about. For the first time in a long time, everything felt settled. Like the universe had finally decided to leave you alone.

But of course it didn't.

It started with a letter. A plain white envelope sitting on Riki's desk one morning. No return address, no name. Just a single sheet of paper inside. The message was short: He'd pay for murdering Kaizen. 

Riki barely reacted. He read it once, scoffed. Then tossed it straight into the shredder. Threats weren't exactly new to him. People had threatened to kill him before. Threatened to torture him. Threatened to burn down his businesses. Threatened to wipe out his entire bloodline. Compared to some of those, this letter was nothing. So he ignored it.

Then another one came. And another. The messages got longer, more personal. He still ignored them. Then the phone calls started. At first they only came to his office. The receptionist would transfer them through. Riki would answer, a distorted voice would start talking. Threats, promises and warnings. The first few times he hung up immediately.

Eventually he stopped reacting altogether, but they kept coming. Then they got his personal number. That was when things became annoying.

The calls started arriving in the middle of the night. Two in the morning, or thee, sometimes four. The phone vibrating on the bedside table waking both of you up. Riki would immediately grab it before you could, step into the hallway, come back five minutes later and tell you it was nothing. Just work. 

You knew he was lying, but not about what.

Then the photos appeared. The first one arrived in another envelope. A picture of Riki sitting in his office, taken from outside the building. The second showed him getting into his car after work. The third showed him walking through the front gate of your home. The fourth showed him standing beside you. That one made his stomach drop.

Still, he tried to brush it off to you. Every time you asked if everything was okay, he'd pull you closer and tell you not to worry. Every time you looked nervous, he'd promise nobody would touch you. Nobody would touch the baby. Nobody would touch his family.

And he meant it.

But privately? Privately, Riki was worried.

Because Kaizen wasn't some random man he'd crossed years ago. Kaizen had power, connections, loyal people.  The kind of people willing to wait months for revenge. The kind of people patient enough to make a man paranoid before making a move.

So even while he insisted everything was under control, changes started happening. Extra security around the house. More cameras. New locks. Stricter visitor checks at the office. Kenji suddenly having two security men following him everywhere.

Nobody complained. The thing that truly unsettled them wasn't the threats. It was Riki. The fact that he was taking the threats seriously. The fact that sometimes they'd catch him staring at security footage longer than necessary. Checking camera angles.

And if Riki was worried? Then everybody else had a reason to be worried too.

The thing that finally broke him was a text message that came in the middle of the afternoon while he was working.

Unknown number. Seven photos of you. His stomach dropped instantly.

The first was you walking through a shopping district. The second was you getting coffee. The third was you leaving one of the organization's office buildings. The fourth was you stepping into your car. The fifth was taken so close he could make out the necklace around your neck.

By the seventh photo, Riki was already standing. His chair slammed backward. Kenji looked up from across the room.

"Boss?"

Riki didn't answer. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He stormed out of his office. Kenji immediately followed.

"Boss?"

"Meeting room." His voice was deadly calm, which somehow sounded worse than yelling. "Get everyone."

"Everyone?"

Riki stopped walking and turned around. The look he gave Kenji was enough. "Now."

Kenji was already reaching for his phone before Riki turned back around. Within minutes, the conference room was filling up. People rushed in from every floor of the building. Department heads. Security teams. Investigators. People who normally wouldn't be in the same room together. Nobody even bothered sitting down.

Riki stood at the end of the table. Furious. When the last person entered, he threw the phone onto the table. The pictures lit up across the screen. Nobody spoke.

"Find them." His voice echoed through the room. "I don't care who they are. Find them."

One of the security managers finally cleared his throat.

"Boss, we've already been investigating—"

Riki slammed his fist into the table. Several people visibly flinched. "I don't give a fuck. My wife is being followed."

“Boss—”.

"Try harder. Check every camera. Every employee."

Another fist hit the table. "Every fucking person that has entered this city if that's what it takes."

The room remained frozen because everybody knew this wasn't about business anymore. This wasn't about power or money. This was about you. And everybody in the organization knew there was one thing Riki loved more than himself. One thing he'd burn the entire city down for.

You.

The meeting lasted three hours. For the first time since the threats started, even the most experienced people in the room looked worried. Because of Riki.

And unfortunately, things only got worse. The threats kept coming, the photos kept coming. No matter what security measures were added, no matter how many people were assigned to investigate. Nothing stopped.

And slowly, it started affecting everything. Including your marriage. Arguments became more frequent. One night you'd ended up crying in the middle of the kitchen floor because you were exhausted. Things had finally been good and now it felt like someone was stealing that happiness piece by piece.

"I'm so scared." You'd admitted it quietly with tears running down your face.

"I just wanted things to be normal now." Riki had pulled you into his arms immediately because he wanted the same thing.

He started insisting. Security everywhere, at all times. You couldn't go shopping alone. You couldn't go to appointments alone.  You couldn't even go get coffee alone anymore. A guard followed you everywhere.

You hated it, absolutely hated it. It made you feel trapped. But every time you argued, Riki only got more stubborn. Because every time another photo appeared on his phone, all he could think about was what happened if one day it wasn't just a photo.

So eventually you stopped fighting him because you saw what it was doing to him. How tired he looked, how often he checked his phone, how often he checked the security cameras. How many nights he stayed awake staring at the ceiling. At one point he'd even assigned somebody to monitor your location whenever you left the house. The poor guy probably knew your daily routine better than you did.

You thought it was ridiculous. Riki thought it wasn't enough.  Which was how you ended up back at the office. Just like old times. Sitting through meetings that bored you to death. Listening to people discuss violent things you used to care about, before you found out you were going to be a mother.

— 

Then came the threat that changed everything.

The drive home from the office had been quiet. Just you and Riki in the backseat while the city lights passed by outside. Your head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands was loosely wrapped around yours. By the time the car pulls into the driveway, you're already looking forward to getting inside, kick off your heels and relax.

Riki steps out first, then helps you out. The security guards do their usual check. Everything looks normal.  Your driver, Ren, stays by the car while Riki walks you toward the front door. His arm settles around your shoulders automatically. He pulls his keys from his pocket, then his phone vibrates. He unlocks his screen and freezes immediately. 

"Riki?"

He doesn't answer, his eyes are locked on the screen. You look down and your blood runs cold. A photo taken seconds ago. The picture shows the two of you standing exactly where you are now. In front of your own front door, riki holding his keys, you standing beside him.

The message underneath makes your stomach drop.

UNKNOWN: You, your wife and your baby are no longer safe here.

Your hand immediately flies to your mouth. "Oh my God."

You look around the property, the trees, the neighboring houses. Every corner suddenly feels dangerous.

"How do they know?" You whisper. Your eyes fill with tears instantly. "Nobody knows."

Nobody was supposed to know. The pregnancy hadn't been announced, the organization didn't even know.  Yet somehow... they knew. Riki's jaw clenches. You can practically feel the anger radiating off him. But underneath it is real fear. For you, for the baby.

He immediately grabs your hand. 

"Back in the car." You stare at him. "Now."

He turns you around and practically guides you back to the car, your heels quickly click against the stone. Ren sees your faces and immediately opens the door. Riki climbs in after you and slams the door shut.

"Office." Ren is already pulling away. His hand is shaking slightly, something you almost never see. He calls Kenji.

"Boss?"

"They know about the pregnancy."

"What?"

"We’re coming back." Riki rubs a hand over his face. "I want guards waiting outside when we arrive."

“Okay, sir.”

"Close every blind. Nobody enters the building without clearance."

"Understood."

The call ends.

Security guards line the office building’s entrance when you arrive. The second your car stops, two guards surround it, escorting the two of you inside. The emergency meeting starts less than ten minutes later. People practically run into the conference room. The moment Riki walks in and tells them about the picture, conversations erupt immediately. Suggestions, questions, plans, investigations.

You sit beside Riki and try to pay attention, but after a while the voices start blending together. Your eyes drift down to your hands resting on the table, your wedding ring catches the light. A tear slides down your cheek. Nobody notices, or maybe they do, they just don’t say anything. 

The room continues talking around you but your mind is somewhere else. Months ago. Years ago, back when things were simpler. Back when you and Riki were inseparable. When you'd follow him everywhere. When danger felt exciting instead of terrifying. When the future wasn't something you had to worry about.

You think about those nights. When your life revolved around love, money and guns . No child depending on you. Just you and him. Then your hand moves over your stomach and the thought immediately changes. Because that's not what you want either.

You want this. The family, the life you've been dreaming about. You want lazy mornings and baby names. And growing old with Riki.

Your eyes slowly lift, people are still arguing. Riki is speaking now. For the first time in your life, you realize that maybe being feared isn't enough. Because no matter how powerful Riki is... no matter how many people obey him, no matter how many enemies he's buried. Somewhere out there is a person who isn't afraid of him.

The discussion only gets worse. Every time somebody disagrees with him, Riki patience gets thinner. It literally feels like a bomb waiting to go off.

"We should wait before relocating."

The sentence barely leaves one of the managers' mouths before Riki's head snaps toward him.

"Wait?"

The man visibly regrets speaking. "Boss, I'm just saying we don't know if—"

"You don't know if what?" Riki stands up so suddenly his chair slides backwards. "We don't know if they're serious?"

"They know where we live. They know where she shops. They know what car she drives."

The room gets very still. Riki laughs but there's no humor in it.

"You think I'm overreacting?" 

Some of them do, the problem is nobody wants to tell him that. Unfortunately, one woman eventually does.

"Boss, with all due respect, we're not saying you're wrong. We're just saying that moving locations immediately might be—"

"Get the fuck out. If you don't want to help, get out."

"Boss—"

Riki points towards the door. "Out."

Riki's eyes move around the room. Everybody suddenly looks suspicious, like a possible threat. A possible reason somebody out there knows too much. The room starts talking again.

"Maybe you're just overreacting because—"

"They know she's pregnant!"

The words come out before he can stop them. Every single person in the room goes silent. Then suddenly everybody is looking at you and your eyes immediately fill with tears. You quickly stand up.

"I need a minute."

Your voice comes out smaller than intended. You leave before anyone can see the tears properly.

The hallway feels blessedly quiet. You make your way to your office. The second the door closes behind you, you let out a shaky breath. You lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling. You don't even mean to fall asleep, but somehow you do.

— 

A soft knock pulls you out of it. The building is quieter than before. Then the door opens and Riki walks in. He kneels beside the bed. His fingers slide into your hair, gently petting it back.

"Honey."

You blink sleepily. "Mm."

His thumb brushes your forehead. "I'm sorry."

Your eyes open properly. Riki sighs.

"We're moving."

"What?"

"Temporarily." He strokes your hair again. "We're moving to another house."

You sit up slightly. "What? I don't want to."

"I know."

"Riki I don’t—"

"I know."

His voice stays gentle, but voice he uses means he's already made a decision.

"There isn't room for arguments on this one."

You immediately frown. He reaches for your hand. "They know where we live. They know way too much. It’s dangerous. I'm not taking any chances."

"When are we going?"

"Now."

"What?"

"Now. We're not going back to the house."

You groan dramatically and cover your face. He gently pulls your hands away. "You can take whatever you need from here."

"My stuff is at home."

"You have enough stuff here to survive for six months."

Unfortunately, he's right. Half your life somehow ended up at the office over the years.

You sigh. Riki kisses your forehead. "Thank you."

You glare at him. He kisses your forehead again.

An hour later you're walking through the underground parking garage with two bags and a bad attitude. The building is unusually busy. Everybody treating the situation with a seriousness that makes your stomach hurt. Riki thanks several people on the way out. Which says enough by itself because Riki almost never thanks people.

By the time the car door closes behind you, the reality of it all is finally settling in. You're actually leaving. Not for a nice vacation. Because somebody made your home unsafe.

— 

So this is how you ended up here. One month later. Living in a house that wasn't yours.

A house that was supposed to feel safe, instead it just felt temporary. The house itself wasn't bad, most people would probably call it incredible. It was huge, modern, hidden far away from the city. The problem was that it didn't feel like home. Your home was warm, brown and gold, dim lighting. This house felt cold and dark. Floor-to-ceiling windows but the curtains are closed most of the time.

Even after a month, you still caught yourself reaching for light switches that weren't there and opening the wrong cabinets. You missed your bathroom, your soft bed, everything. Most of all, you hated why you were here. Somebody wanted to hurt your family. Every time you remember, suddenly the house felt uncomfortable all over again.

The adjustment hadn't been easy. Especially because Riki trusted absolutely nobody anymore. The cook wasn't allowed to move with you, the maid wasn't either, the gardener stayed behind too. Riki had decided the fewer people who knew the location, the better.

Which meant that while he spent twelve hours a day working, you were left doing everything yourself. Things you'd never minded helping with before because you were at the office as well. But now it just felt lonely and the silence gave you too much time to think.

Unfortunately, your marriage wasn't doing much better. Not because either of you stopped loving each other. If anything, this whole situation only proved how much Riki loved you. That was the problem. His love had turned into fear, and fear had turned into control.

Suddenly there were rules. You couldn't leave without security, you couldn't drive yourself anywhere, you couldn't visit people, you couldn't make spontaneous plans. You couldn't do much of anything.

Every conversation somehow turned into an argument. Every argument somehow turned into Riki insisting he was trying to keep you safe. And every time he said that, you wanted to scream. You knew he was trying to protect you, but it felt like while you were preparing for a family and a future together, Riki had slipped right back into his old life. Meanwhile you were stuck in this weird middle position.

The only good thing was that the photos had stopped.

But the letters and calls still came. Every single week. Different numbers, different accounts, different handwriting. Always the same message.

Eventually everyone in the organization reached the same conclusion. The threats were connected to Kaizen. Nobody knew who exactly, where, or how many people. Just Kaizen. It was a dead end.

One of the worst moments happened during the second week. Your driver disappeared. One minute he was dropping somebody off, the next he was gone.

For exactly forty-eight hours.

When he finally reappeared, two security guards found him dumped on the side of a road in front of the office. His face was covered in bruises, one eye nearly swollen shut. And missing a finger. You'd never forget the look on Riki's face when he heard.

The driver insisted he hadn't told them anything. He'd been blindfolded the entire time. He didn't know where he was, didn't recognize any voices or heard any names. Nothing that could help. Just more proof that whoever was behind this wasn't playing games anymore.

— 

It’s almost 11 p.m. when the front door finally unlocks. Riki steps inside looking exhausted, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. The house is dark except for the kitchen lights. You’ve spent the entire day alone in this house again. Riki crosses the room and kisses your forehead, then your lips quickly.

“Hey.”

You try to smile. "Hi."

That's all you manage. Riki studies your face for a moment, clearly noticing the lack of enthusiasm, but doesn't comment on it.

“I saved you dinner,” you say quietly, standing up before he can really look at you.

In the kitchen, you Open the fridge. Scoop leftovers onto a plate. Reheat them.

Riki leans against the counter watching you.

“How was your day?”

You shrug. “Fine.”

"Did you eat?"

"Mhm."

You don’t continue. So he tries again. “Did you go outside?”

“No.”

“You should’ve gone into the garden at least.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “The garden surrounded by guards and cameras? Yeah, sounds relaxing.”

You set the plate down harder than necessary. Then you stop moving entirely, a long sigh leaves you.

“I can’t do this.”

Riki straightens slightly. “Do what?”

“This.” You gesture between the two of you. “Pretend everything’s normal.”

“I know about Ren.”

His jaw tightens instantly. “Who told you?”

“Kenji.”

“You weren’t supposed to know that.” He says irritated.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap. “Was I supposed to keep living here like some clueless housewife while people are getting tortured because of us?”

“Lower your voice.”

“I don’t think anybody’s gonna hear us, Riki.”

Riki pushes off the counter. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you scared.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“Stop saying that. I’m so sick of hearing that.”

Riki scoffs and shakes his head.

“You don’t tell me things because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You lock me in this house because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You control where I go, who I see, whether I can leave the fucking property, and every time I say something you act like I’m unreasonable because you’re ‘protecting’ me.”

Riki’s jaw clenches. “Do you think I want this, y/n?”

“I don’t know what you want anymore!”

The words echo through the kitchen. Your hand slaps against the counter in frustration.

"I'm the same woman who used to run jobs with you."

"That was before."

You step closer. "You know I know how to keep myself safe because you've seen it."

"You're pregnant."

“I’m pregnant, not helpless. I hate asking permission to leave my own fucking house. I hate waking up every day feeling trapped.”

“You are not trapped.”

“It feels like a prison!”

“You’re alive.”

“And what kind of life is this?”

Riki’s voice rises now too. “A safe one.”

“I hate these fucking rules, Riki. I am not your child!"

"But you are carrying mine, aren’t you?!”

"Yes, and sometimes I really fucking I regret that!" you scream back. The words are out before you can stop them.

Riki just stares at you like he genuinely can't believe what he heard. "What did you say?"

His voice is quieter than before. You should stop. The second you saw the look on his face, you should've stopped. But you're too angry, too hurt.

"I said I regret it."

Riki blinks. "Baby."

His voice lowers, like he's trying to talk you down. "You're upset."

You laugh bitterly. "Oh my God."

"You're just angry."

"I'm not taking it back."

"You don't mean it."

You don't know what you mean. You just know everything hurts and you want him to hurt too. So you turn around and walk away.

"Fine." Your voice shakes. "I'm done talking."

"Baby—"

You ignore him. Already heading toward the stairs.

"Sleep on the couch."

Riki lets out a breath. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."

You spin around. "Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes. Riki. You are!" You snap.

"No."

"I don't want you in our room."

Riki's jaw flexes. "Our room."

"Don't."

"I'm not sleeping on the couch."

You throw your hands up. "You're so fucking stubborn."

"And you're being unreasonable.”

You stare at him, then turn around before you say something even worse. A second later the bedroom door slams hard enough to shake the wall. 

The house feels painfully quiet afterward. Riki stands alone in the kitchen. The untouched plate of food still sitting on the counter. He looks at it for a long moment, then sits down, takes one bite and stops. His appetite is completely gone.  Your words keep replaying in his head. He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long breath. He puts the untouched plate in the sink and heads upstairs.

The bedroom is dark when he enters. The only light comes from the bathroom door left slightly open. You don't acknowledge him. You're already under the blankets, lying on your side as far from his side of the bed as possible. Riki quietly changes clothes. Pulls on a pair of sweatpants, takes off his shirt, brushes his teeth.

Does everything as quietly as possible. Then finally gets into bed, the mattress shifts. Immediately you turn around.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The whisper-yell is somehow more aggressive than actual yelling.

Riki settles onto his pillow. "I'm going to sleep."

"I told you to sleep on the couch."

He closes his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."

"You're unbelievable."

No response. "Riki."

Still nothing. You sigh, long and very irritated. "You're fucking stubborn."

With an angry huff, you turn away again. Your back facing him. For a few minutes neither of you speaks.

Eventually you feel the mattress shift slightly. Riki moving closer, then his arm starts to move around your waist like it always does.You immediately push his hand away. The hand disappears and Riki doesn't try again.

Normally this would've been over by now. Normally one of you would've apologized. Or laughed, or given in. Neither of you ever really went to sleep angry. You don’t do that. Because living this kind of life, it could always somehow be your last day together.

But tonight you genuinely don't want to be touched. Or apologies or cuddles. You want as much space as possible.

Minutes pass, eventually Riki speaks.

"I love you."

Your eyes immediately sting. But instead of saying it back, you swallow hard and stay silent.

— 

The next morning feels awful. Riki is already gone. No goodbye kiss, no hand brushing through your hair, o quiet I'll see you later. The guilt from last night immediately settles in your chest. 

You can't stay here today. You need fresh air, people, something that isn't these four walls.

So before you can overthink it, you grab your phone and call Riki. The call only rings once.

"Yeah." 

You sit down on the edge of the bed. 

"Uhm. I was wondering... I wanted to maybe go out today?"

You immediately start rambling. "It doesn't have to be long. I just wanted to go to the mall for a bit and maybe look around and I can take security and—"

"You can go."

"What?"

"You can go."

His tone stays flat. "I'll send Ren."

"Oh."

"You don't have to explain."

Normally he'd tease you, ask what you wanted to buy or make a joke about you spending all his money. Now he just sounds tired.

"I'll have Ren pick you up."

"Okay."

"Be home by 6."

“Okay.”

The call ends.

The idea of leaving the house makes something inside you feel lighter. You practically jump out of bed. Finally something normal. You spend extra time getting ready, making sure you look extra good. For the first time in days, you actually feel excited about something.

Then the doorbell rings. Ren is waiting outside. You immediately notice how different he looks now. The bruises, and the missing finger is impossible to ignore.

"Goodmorning."

"Morning, ma'am."

His voice sounds strange.Before you can ask anything, he clears his throat. "Boss told me to tell you something."

"What?"

"He wants you to leave your phone at home."

"My phone?"

"So nobody can track you." That sounds exactly like something Riki would say. You sigh.

"Fine."

You go back inside and leave your phone on the kitchen counter.

Ren opens the car door for you and when the house slowly disappears behind you, you actually feel happy. The feeling doesn't last. 

At first you're talking nonstop about random things. A store you want to visit, a dress you saw online, a bakery you miss. Ren barely says anything. His eyes stay fixed on the road. His shoulders look tense.

You slowly start talking less and then your gaze drifts toward his hand. The memory of what happened to him. Something uncomfortable settles in your stomach and you look away.

The car continues driving, and driving, and driving…

Eventually you glance out the window, your brows furrow. This isn't right. The route feels wrong. You know this city. You know where the mall is, and this isn't it.

You sit up slightly.

"Ren?"

You look out the window again. The roads and buildings are unfamiliar now. A cold feeling creeps up your spine. "Ren."

He keeps driving. Your heartbeat starts picking up. Maybe there's traffic?

"Ren, where are we going?" The excitement from earlier disappears instantly.

"Ren." This time your voice comes out sharper. "Where are you taking me?"

His hands tighten around the steering wheel, and then— 

Click.

The doors lock.

Your stomach drops and for a second you just stare at him, your heartbeat suddenly pounding so hard you can hear it.

"Ren." He doesn't answer. The panic hits all at once. Your voice cracks. "Ren, what the fuck is happening?"

Your breathing speeds up. You grab the door handle anyway and pull it.

"Ren! I want to get out! Please stop the car!"

Tears are already running down your cheeks. Your hands shake as you pull at the handle again. "You're scaring me!"

Ren slams a hand against the steering wheel. "Stop yelling!" The outburst makes you jump.

"If you just cooperate, nothing will happen to you!"

You stare at him. "What?"

"Just work with me."

"What are you talking about?"

You start crying harder. "What are you doing?!"

Ren's grip tightens around the wheel, he looks like he might cry too. "They threatened my family."

Your heart drops. "What?"

"They threatened my family."

His voice shakes.  "They found my wife, my kids. They said if I didn't do this..."

He sighs. "...they'd kill them."

You just stare at him, unable to process it. "Who? Who, Ren?"

The silence is answer enough.

"Please." You wipe at your tears. "Please tell me who."

Ren just shakes his head and keeps driving. Then suddenly he reaches forward, your entire body tenses. He unlocks the glove compartment and it falls open. Inside sits a filled syringe.

Your stomach immediately turns. You don't even have to ask.

"They told me to use it if you didn't cooperate."

Your hands instinctively move to your stomach. The baby. You immediately stop talking, you just turn your head toward the window. Tears sliding silently down your cheeks. Eventually your voice returns.

"Ren." He sighs. "What?"

"You've known us for years."

He closes his eyes briefly. You keep going. "You've worked for Riki for years. You know me." Your voice trembles. "I’m going to be a mother."

You wipe another tear away. "Please don't do this."

His eyes stay fixed on the road. "I don't have a choice."

"Everybody has a choice."

A painful laugh escapes him. "No. Not always."

You stare at him trying to find something. Some sign he might change his mind. But all you see is guilt. "Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer. "Ren… please."

You let out a shaky breath. "Am I going to die?"

For the first time since this started, Ren looks at you. And when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"I don't know, ma’am.”

For a few more minutes, you keep trying. Because what else are you supposed to do? Just sit there and let this happen?

"No, you know what?" Your voice shakes from crying. "You're fucking stupid. Do you have any idea what Riki is gonna do when he finds out? You think threatening your family is bad?"

A tear rolls down your cheek. "He's going to kill you."

The threat sounds weak the second it leaves your mouth, mostly because your voice cracks halfway through it because you’re still crying. Ren doesn't even react.

"He'll find me. He always finds people." The silence makes you even angrier.

"You know what your problem is?" you snap. "You think I'm some helpless wife. You think I'm just gonna sit here and cry."

Your breathing speeds up. "I can fight. I've been around this shit longer than you."

Then suddenly something clicks. Your stomach drops.

"Riki never told me to leave my phone." Your voice breaks. "Oh my God. You lied."

He says nothing. "You lied to me. You’re kidnapping me."

Ren has been your driver for years, you trusted him. The tears start again.

"How could you do this? How could you fucking do this?!"

Ren suddenly slams his palm against the steering wheel. "They're going to murder my family!"

The yell fills the entire car. You jump immediately. Your mouth snaps shut. Then you slowly cover your mouth with your hand ,trying to muffle the sob that escapes.

Meanwhile, back at the office, Riki has no idea.

He's sitting in another meeting. His attention keeps drifting to you, though. To your words from last night. A part of him wants to call you, just to hear your voice and make sure you're okay. But every time he reaches for his phone, he’d tell himself you’re just having a nice day out and he should leave you alone. 

He promised himself something. He promised he'd try to give you space. Try to stop controlling every part of your life. You hated the cameras, the tracking, the constant security. So he'd started easing up. 

The guy monitoring your location? Day off. The guards assigned to watch you? Day off. Several camera systems around the property? Disabled. For you. Because despite everything, all he wanted was for you to be happy.

Unfortunately, that decision couldn't have come at a worse time.

—

The car finally slows. You immediately sit up and your heartbeat starts racing again.

Outside, the surroundings look unfamiliar. Industrial and empty. The kind of place nobody accidentally ends up.

Ren parks and then looks at you. "If you cooperate..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "...nothing will happen."

You nod slowly. You wipe away your tears and take a shaky breath. "Okay."

But you're lying. The second you see your opportunity, you're running. No matter how many weapons or buff men, you’re running.

A few seconds later, headlights appear and doors open. Four men, all armed. One of them immediately approaches the car. The moment the door swings open, a hand grabs your arm hard. "Move."

You do. Just not the way they're expecting. The second your feet hit the ground, you twist. Your pointy heel comes down hard on the man's foot. He curses and ends slightly and that's all the opening you need. Your knee shoots upward. The man winces in pain and you rip your arm free.

You kick your heels off and run.  Bare feet hitting rough pavement. Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your body.

For one glorious second, you think it might work. Then somebody grabs the back of your arm. You yank away. Another hand catches your shoulder. Someone shouts. You keep fighting, keep twisting, keep trying. Then somebody catches your arm and a sharp impact slams against the side of your head.

Everything flashes white, the world tilts and voices become blurry. A second later everything goes black.

— 

At five o'clock, Riki is completely unaware that anything is wrong. Every now and then, he checks the time. Five already. A small part of him still considers calling you. Then remembers last night, the way you'd refused to say I love you back.

You probably need space. And that's what he'd been trying to give you so he puts the phone back down. You must be home already. Probably unpacking shopping bags, maybe cooking dinner, maybe still annoyed at him.

But safe.

Meanwhile, your head feels like it's splitting in half.

The first thing you notice is the ringing in your ears and hen the pounding behind your eyes. Then your entire body feels cold. You groan softly. Everything is blurry. Nothing makes sense. For a while you just sit there trying to remember.

The car. Ren. Running.

The realization hits all at once and your eyes snap open. Your wrists immediately pull against something. Rope. Your hands are tied behind the chair , your ankles too. A cloth is tied tightly around your mouth.

The panic returns so quickly it makes you dizzy. You look around. The room looks abandoned. Concrete walls, one flickering light hanging from the ceiling, no windows. No way outt.

Four men stand around the room. The second they notice you're awake, one of them laughs.

"Look."

Another glances over. "Finally."

Your breathing starts speeding up. The chair scrapes loudly as you instinctively try to move.

Then another man enters your line of vision. Older than the others, maybe late forties. Well dressed and too calm. He smiles when he sees your eyes open.

"Well well." He slowly approaches. "Look who's awake."

You pull against the ropes again. The chair creaks underneath you. The man chuckles.

"You were out for so long we thought we killed you already."

Your heart pounds. The panic fully sets in, a muffled scream sounds behind the cloth.

The man sighs dramatically and then crouches down in front of you. "Relax."

You scream again, louder. The man reaches forward and he grabs your chin. Hard enough to stop your head from moving.

"Stop that. Your husband won't hear you from here."

The mention of Riki instantly breaks something inside you. Tears immediately fill your eyes. The man notices, he lets go of your face with a small push and smiles.

"Aw."

He slowly starts pacing like he's giving a presentation. “I don’t think you know me. I’m Kaito. Your husband killed a lot of important people, y/n."

His smile disappears. "My brother happened to be one of them."

He studies your expression. "You know what impressed me most?"

You stare at him. Tears running down now.

"How predictable the two of you are." His smile returns. "We followed you for months. Every luxury shop. Every restaurant. Every office meeting. No matter how many guards your husband hired, we always knew where you were."

You think about the months of fear. They'd really been watching the entire time.

"You know the funny part?" He tilts his head. "Your husband is actually very smart. He moved houses."

He shrugs. "Hired security. Changed routines." Then his smile widens. "But eventually he made the same mistake every man makes. He got comfortable."

The tears won't stop now. You can barely breathe. Hiro walks closer again.

"He turned off cameras, he sent guards home. All because he wanted to make you happy."

You shake your head desperately. The cloth muffles another sob. Hiro crouches beside you again. His voice lowering, almost gentle.

"Do you know how easy today was?"

The question makes your stomach turn. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that might somehow make him disappear.

"Your husband spent months building walls around you. And a few arguments were enough to make him tear them down himself."

When you open your eyes again, tears blur everything. Hiro looks completely satisfied like he's waited years for this moment. 

By seven o'clock, Riki is finally heading home.

The entire day he's been replaying last night in his head. Thinking of things he should've said differently. By the time he reaches the house, he's already decided he's apologizing first. The front door opens, he kicks off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and immediately calls out,

"Baby?"

Silence, he frowns. Norrmally you'd answer, even if you were still angry, even if it’s just a hum. He walks further inside.

"Baby, I'm so sorry for—"

The words stop in his throat. The house looks exactly the same as when he left, like nobody had been here all day. A strange feeling settles in his chest.

"Baby?"

He walks into the kitchen, nothing. Garden, nothing. His pace quickens. Upstairs. Bathroom, empty. Bedroom, empty. Guest room, empty. His heart starts beating harder. Now he's calling your name louder. He checks the time. 7:03. You were supposed to be home by six. Ren knew that, you knew that. 

So where the fuck are you?

Riki rushes downstairs and that's when he sees it. Your phone still sitting on the kitchen counter.

"What." He grabs it. "What the fuck—"

His heart drops straight into his stomach. His hands are already grabbing his own phone. Already dialing Ren. Every instinct in his body screaming that something is wrong.

Miles away, your head shoots up because you hear a ringtone.

Across the room, Ren is slumped against a concrete wall unconscious with his hands tied. The phone keeps ringing. Kaito glances toward the sound and slowly reaches into Ren's pocket.

Kaito pulls out the phone, looks at the screen and smiles.

"Oh."

He turns the phone toward you. The contact name fills the screen. Riki. The sight of it almost breaks you because now you know exactly what's happening. Riki's home, he's looking for you, he's freaking out.

The phone continues ringing and Kaito studies your face, amused like he's watching a show.

"Should I ignore it? Huh?"

You violently shake your head, tears flying. Please don't. But his smile only grows.

“No? So you wan’t me to answer?” You nod your head and tears spill down your cheeks.

The phone rings, until Kaito swipes across the screen to aswer and Riki's voice explodes through the speaker. "Ren, where is she?"

No hello. Pure panic. "Where the fuck is my wife?"

Even hearing his voice makes fresh tears spill down your face. Kaito glances at you, sill smiling. Then casually pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of you, one leg over the other.

"Good evening, Boss."

"...Who is this?"

Kaito leans back comfortably. "Oh, we have plenty of time for introductions."

Kaito keeps smiling while Riki's breathing turns harsher through the phone.

"You trusted the wrong man," he says casually. "And now I have the thing you cherish most."

You immediately start screaming behind the gag. Trying to make noise, trying to make Riki hear you. On the other end of the line, Riki loses whatever control he had left.

"I'll kill you. I'll kill every fucking person in that building. Tell me where she is."

Kaito's smile fades slightly. "Careful, Boss. Threats don't work when I'm the one holding the gun."

Riki says something else, but Kaito simply lifts the phone away.

"I'll show you something."

And then he hangs up. Kaito slips the phone into his pocket, completely unbothered. You stare at him through tears.

A minute later, somewhere across the city, Riki's phone buzzes. A video, he opens it immediately.

The screen shows you tied to the chair with a gun pressed beside your head. Your face wet with tears. If you don't come alone, Kaito says, if you tell anyone, bring anyone, fight us, or try anything clever, your wife and your baby die. Then a location appears on screen.

For once in his life, Riki listens to an enemy. Because this isn't business, his wife’s life is at risk. He just grabs his keys and leaves.

At the warehouse, you sit trapped in the chair, waiting. You keep telling yourself the same thing over and over. Riki will come, Riki will bring his men, you’ll be safe. Your eyes close briefly as you try to steady your breathing. It'll be over soon.

Then you hear a car outside, a door slamming. Your heart jumps into your throat. Kaito glances toward the entrance. One of the armed men moves toward the front.

Outside, Riki reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a handgun. He shoves it into the waistband of his suit and heads for the warehouse door without slowing down. He pounds on it hard enough to rattle the metal. The door cracks open. A guard stands there, weapon visible.

"You alone?"

"Yes," Riki snaps. "Let me the fuck in!"

The man studies him for a second, then opens the door. The moment the entrance clears, Riki sees you tied to the chair. And your scream tears through the warehouse. "Riki!"

He moves immediately, trying to get to you. A guard blocks him before he gets halfway across the room. "Not so fast. Any weapon on you," he says. "Drop it."

For a second Riki hesitates. His eyes flick to you, to the gun beside your head. 

Slowly, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out the pistol. It feels humiliating, but he lowers it to the concrete floor. The guard immediately kicks it away. The second the gun is kicked away, another man moves. 

Riki barely has time to react before someone grabs both his wrists and yanks them behind his back. Instinct takes over and he twists violently, trying to break free. For a split second, it almost works. But the man standing in front of him swings the butt of his gun and it lands hard against the side of Riki's head.

Your breath catches. "Riki!"

Riki groans in pain and his knees nearly buckle. Blood immediately appears near his temple, running down the side of his face. The man behind him tightens his grip and forces his arms higher. "Stop moving."

"Get your fucking hands off me."

Kaito sighs dramatically. "I told you not to fight. It's five against one."

He gestures around the room. "You're not winning this."

The men force Riki forward toward you. One of the men shoves him down. Riki hits the concrete on both knees.

He's only a few meters away now. Close enough to see every tear on your face, close enough to notice your shaky breathing. But too far away to reach you. You stare at him. Your vision blurs again.

"Riki..."

The cloth turns it into a muffled sob.

His tone immediately softens even now.

"It's okay, baby." Blood still running down the side of his face. "Trust me."

You shake your head desperately, tears falling faster. His eyes stay locked on yours.

"You'll be okay."

Kaito laughs, then grabs a handful of Riki's hair and forces his head upward. His fingers brush the fresh blood near Riki's temple.

"You really believe that?" Kaito asks.

Riki jerks away from him immediately. His eyes dark.

"If you touch her—"

"Listen." Kaito cuts him off.

The smile finally disappears from his face. "You killed my brother."

Kaito begins pacing slowly. "You remember Kaizen."

It isn't a question. Riki's jaw tightens.

"Good. Because I remember him too."

"I remember the phone call, I remember identifying the body, I remember seeing my nieces cry."

You can feel the hatred pouring out of him now. "I wasn't important enough for anyone to look at. Which worked out pretty well for me."

His eyes move toward you. "Because it gave me time. Every picture, every threat. That was me. I followed you both for months. Waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge.”

He looks directly at Riki. "It surprised me hard it was to find your weak spot. But then it happened..."

His eyes slowly move down to your stomach. Everything inside you freezes.

"...the baby."

Immediately you start struggling again. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor and a muffled cry escapes you.

"No—"

Riki visibly flinches. Kaito notices both reactions and smiles.

"See? There it is. That's the one."

Riki's entire body goes rigid. "If this is about me then leave them out of it."

"Leave them out of it? After everything I’ve worked for? The stalking, the months of paranoia, the kidnapping. It worked exactly how I wanted."

You feel sick. Because he's right, every piece led here. Riki's eyes never leave you. Almost like he's trying to memorize your face, preparing for something.

Kaito turns back toward him.

"And now you're alone. You came exactly where I wanted."

Kaito takes a gun from one of the men. He turns and presses the gun gently against the side of your head. Everybody’s breath catches.

"Since you took something from me..." Kaito says quietly. "...I think it's only fair I take something from you."

"NO!" Riki's voice explodes through the room.

He tries to get up, a guard immediately slams a fist into his side. The hit forces the air from his lungs and he groans.

"Please."

The word falls from his mouth before he can stop it. And everyone hears it. The feared boss, the man who’s never said thank you. Begging.

"Please. Don't touch her."

And sitting there with tears streaming down your face, staring at the blood on his temple and the panic in his eyes, you realize he's just as scared as you are.

Kaito studies the panic on both of your faces for a moment before slowly lowering the gun from your head. He starts pacing again, the gun hanging loosely at his side.

"You know," he says, almost conversationally, "when my brother got shot, everybody talked about him. They talked about his empire. His money. His power."

A humorless laugh leaves him. "But nobody talked about his daughters. Funny, isn't it?"

He tilts his head. "A child growing up without a father." His gaze locks onto Riki. "Does that sound familiar to you?"

The words hit harder than any punch. You immediately start shaking your head.

"No. No, please..."

Your voice is barely understandable through the tears. Riki drops his head.

"What do you want, Riki?" Kaiten says.

Riki slowly looks up. Kaito points the gun toward you.

"Her life?" Then toward Riki. "Or yours?"

"If she dies," Kaito continues, "you live. You get to spend the rest of your life remembering this moment. Remembering your wife. Remembering your unborn child."

Your breathing becomes shaky. Kaito then points the gun at Riki.

"If you die... they live."

You immediately let out a sob. "No."

"But your child grows up without a father and your wife becomes a widow."

Riki just stares at the floor, then at you, his eyes glassy. The thought of either option makes you feel sick. Kaito waits and waits. When neither of you answers, his patience begins to crack.

"Answer me."

Silence. "Answer me..."

"ANSWER ME, RIKI."

Riki closes his eyes. Kaito strides forward and puts the gun beneath Riki's chin, forcing his head upward. Riki slowly opens his eyes.

Then Kaito smiles.

"You know what?" He takes a step back. "I'll let both of you decide."

He gestures toward the men beside you. One of them immediately crouches down, a knife cuts the ropes around your wrists fall away. Your arms immediately drop, numb and aching. The ropes around your ankles follow. At the same time, one of the guards gives Riki a shove between the shoulder blades.

The second you're free, you're moving. You practically fall into him. Your knees hit the concrete and you're in his arms. Finally, but at what cost. 

The first sound that leaves you is a broken sob. Riki catches you immediately, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you so tightly like it’s the last time. Your face presses against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat.

"Riki..." Your voice breaks completely. "I'm so sorry."

He immediately shakes his head but you keep going. The words pour out between sobs.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"I didn't mean any of it, I do want this. I want our family. I want our baby."

His hand slides into your hair. "I know… I know."

Another sob, you can barely breathe. Tears are running down his face now too, though he barely seems to notice. You cup his face with both hands.

"I love you so much." The words come out trembling. "So much."

His eyes immediately close for a second. Hearing that physically hurts because he doesn't know if he'll ever hear it again.

"I love you too." His forehead presses against yours.

Then—

BANG.

The gunshot explodes through the warehouse ceiling. Both of you jump violently. You instinctively bury yourself against Riki's chest and his arms immediately wrap around you.

Kaito lowers the gun and rolls his eyes. "Touching."

Kaito checks his watch. "You have three minutes."

Your stomach twists. Three minutes. Three minutes to decide something impossible.

"If you don't choose..." He shrugs. "...I'll choose myself."

The silence afterward feels endless. And as the reality of those words settles over the room, you cling to Riki even tighter. Because suddenly three minutes feels like the shortest amount of time in the world.

The moment Kaito says they have three minutes, something inside you completely breaks.

"No—"

Your voice cracks. Sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your fingers clutch at Riki's suit desperately, holding onto him like if you let go for even a second he'll disappear. The thought alone makes you feel sick.

"No, no, no..."

Your whole body shakes. Riki immediately pulls you closer.

"Baby." His hands cup your face. "Hey."

You can't even look at him. Because the second you do, it feels like goodbye.

"Look at me."

You shake your head. "No."

"Baby." His thumbs wipe tears from your cheeks. "Look at me."

Eventually your eyes lift. The second they meet his, more tears spill over, because he's crying too.

You know exactly what he's thinking and you hate it.

"Listen to me." His voice is gentle. The same voice he uses when you're sick, when you're upset. "You have to take care of our baby."

Immediately you start shaking your head again. "No."

"You do." His forehead presses against yours. "You have to."

"No, Riki."

"I want you to live."

His hand slides down to your stomach. The gesture destroys you. "I want both of you to live."

Your hand immediately covers his as if you're trying to stop him. 

"You'll be okay."

"No." His lips brush your forehead. "You will."

A kiss to your temple. "You're strong." A kiss to your cheek. "You always tell me that."

Your shoulders shake harder. "Stop."

"You know how to take care of yourself."

"Stop it ."

"You'll be an amazing mother."

"Riki, stop."

His voice breaks slightly. "You'll live the life we talked about."

At that, you completely lose it. The sound that leaves your throat barely sounds human. You bury your face against his neck and cry harder, because he's talking like he's already gone. Like he's already made peace with it, he's already saying goodbye.

Kaito glances at his watch. "Time's almost up."

You immediately grab Riki tighter. "No."

His arms wrap around you. One hand rubbing your back, the other the side of your face. He can't stop touching you. His eyes close briefly. He's memorizing this. The feeling of your hair, your scent, the weight of your body against his, the warmth of you. The child you carry. Everything.

"It'll be okay."

His voice is quieter now. Almost a whisper. "You'll finally get that peaceful life."

You immediately pull back. "No. Stop."

"You will. You deserve it."

Your hands grab his face. "I want you a life with you, Riki."

Kaito sighs loudly, clearly annoyed. Then he starts counting.

"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."

"No."

You turn toward Kaito so quickly your neck hurts. "Take me."

Riki immediately stiffens. "No baby."

"Just take me!" Your voice echoes through the room. Tears running down your face. "Please!"

Riki grabs your shoulders. "Y/n stop."

"Take me!"

His arms immediately lock around you, holding you against his chest. "Stop."

"No!" You struggle trying to pull away from him.

Eventually he places a hand over your mouth. Just to stop you from saying it. Because he cannot listen to you offer your own life. Your cries become muffled ,you hit weakly against his chest trying to fight him. But you're exhausted, you’re terrified and drained.

Eventually your strength gives out. You stop fighting and Riki slowly removes his hand.

The second he does, you throw your arms around his neck. He immediately hugs you back.

"Baby..." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I need you to listen to me."

He looks at you, his eyes glistening like he’s looking at the most precious thing in the world.

"I loved every day with you."

Your face crumples immediately. "No Riki don’t say that—"

"I mean it." A small smile appears. The saddest smile you've ever seen. "I loved every single day."

His breathing shakes, a tear slides down his temple. His hand finds your stomach.

"The day I met you... I had no idea you'd become my whole life."

You can't breathe. 

"I need you." The words burst out of you. "I need you, Riki."

Your hands grab his face. "I can't do this without you. I can’t.”

"Yes you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met."

Your entire body shakes. "No."

"You are. You’re stronger than me, baby, trust me. You survived me."

That almost makes both of you laugh weakly.

His forehead presses against yours. "You'll raise our baby."

A sob escapes you.

"You'll tell them about me. You'll tell them how annoying I was."

"No."

"You'll tell them how much I loved you."

"Stop."

"I'll always be with you." The words come out quietly. You immediately start crying harder.

"I'll look for you. In your dreams."

"No. No Riki I can’t—"

"I'll remind you I'm still around."

You're fully hysterical now. Sobbing so hard your words don't even make sense anymore.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

"TEN." Kaito's voice echoes through the warehouse.

Your arms are wrapped around Riki's neck so tightly your muscles hurt. His forehead is pressed against your shoulder.

"Nine."

His hands move to your face, making you look at him. "Riki..."

Somehow he still manages to smile. That smile he only ever gave you and nobody else ever got. That smile you hope your baby has gotten from him. 

"I'll love you forever."

Your face immediately crumples. "Riki… no."

His thumb wipes away another tear. "Say it back, baby. Say it back to me." 

His forehead presses against yours again.

"I love you.” You manage to say between sobs. “I love you so much.” 

A tear slips down his cheek.

“Five.”

And suddenly he's kissing you. So deeply, he's trying to put every feeling he's ever had for you into one final kiss. Your hands immediately find his face. His neck, his hair. Anywhere.

You kiss him back through tears. Through the realization that this is probably the last time. The last kiss, and neither of you wants to let go.

"One."

Kaito's voice cuts through the room. The kiss breaks.

Then—

Zero.

Kaito moves so fast you barely register it, and suddenly Riki jerks. A strangled sound leaves him. Your eyes widen.

A knife is buried deep beneath his ribs. Kaito immediately steps back and blood begins spreading across Riki's shirt.

"No!" The scream tears out of you.

The entire warehouse disappears in front of your eyes. Nothing exists except him in your arms. His head lands in your lap. Blood is already soaking your clothes.

"Riki."

He coughs, blood appears at the corner of his mouth. Your heart shatters. Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold his face.

"I'm here." You don't even know why you're saying it. "I'm here."

Another cough escapes from him. Another painful breath. His eyes stay locked on yours like he wants your face to be the last thing he sees. You start crying harder.

"I love you. I love you so much."

His lips twitch. Almost a smile, almost. Then his hand slowly lifts, weak and shaky, trying to reach you. You immediately grab it and press his palm against your cheek. His thumb barely moves against your skin. The weakest little movement but you feel it.

His eyes begin drifting through you. Somewhere else.

His mind drifts to the day he met you. To your wedding. The first time he slept with you. To when he taught you how to fight and he used to let you win. Late nights cuddling in bed. When he introduced you at the office. The arguments. Slow dancing in the living room. Running jobs with you. The baby.  The future. The life you were supposed to have.

The life that was supposed to keep going.

His hand starts slipping. You immediately grab it, putting it back against your face.

"No." Your voice cracks. "Stay with me."

His eyes find yours one final time, and suddenly he looks peaceful. Then his chest rises one last time. His eyes remain on yours, but something changes, he just disappears. Riki isn't there anymore.

"No." Your hands grab his face and tap his cheek gently. "Riki, baby.”

Your breathing becomes frantic. "Riki… please.”

Your voice breaks. Tears falling onto his face.

"Please wake up."

There are still people in the room, still footsteps and distant voices, preparing to leave this situation behind as fast as possible. But none of it reaches you. The world has narrowed down to the weight in your lap, to the face you've loved for years.

You don't know how much time passes. Maybe seconds, maybe hours. You just sit there.

A part of you refuses to believe it. Any second now he'll groan and tell you you're being dramatic. Any second now he'll wake up. He always wins.

Your fingers brush through his hair, sticky with blood now, but you don’t care, you smooth it back anyway. The same way you always did when he was stressed or when he fell asleep on your chest.

You lower your forehead against his and cold tears fall onto his skin. Your hand finds his, it feels heavier now, lifeless. You lace your fingers through his anyway.

Nothing about this feels real.  You bend over him, pressing a trembling kiss against his forehead. One last time.

"I love you Riki." The words come out broken.

"Forever."

You don’t get an answer. The words just hangs in the air.

Outside, the world keeps moving. Rain falls, cars drive by. People laugh, people dance. Dogs bark, birds chirp. Life just continues. Completely unaware that yours has just ended.

You close your eyes and hold him tighter. You place one hand on your stomach. You were so close to a perfect future with him, and it left you in less than a second. The old house filled with jazz music. The family dinners. Gone.

But beneath your hand, there is still a piece of him. Your child. And for the first time since Kaito started counting, you finally understand why he made his choice.

Even when Riki was terrified for what was coming. Even when it meant losing everything.

He chose you. 

✦

xtra note: I just realized I completely forgot to write about the little girls from the last past omg... SORRY. I was too focused on dada's death. the girls are fine ;)

THE SEONGHYEON JAEGA ━━━━━ MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE ONE ━━━━━ pink tiles

꒰ 5.8k ꒱you didn’t expect the winter garden, or the hydrangeas blooming out of season. and you definitely didn’t expect sunghoon — quiet, unreadable, and watching you like he already knew how this would end.

PROLOGUE TWO ━━━━━ the seonghyeon jaega

꒰ 10.9k ꒱between printer boys, rooftop gardens, and the neighbor who looks at you like he’s trying not to set the world on fire, this is what happens when loneliness meets curiosity and accidentally kicks off something bigger than you’re ready for.

CHAPTER ONE ━━━━━ hydrangeas & homicide

꒰ 11.2k ꒱ park sunghoon has survived centuries by staying detached — until a new neighbor moves in and quietly unravels everything. caught between instinct and control, he senses a bond he thought was myth, as something human begins to feel dangerously inevitable.

CHAPTER TWO ━━━━━ six-hundred-and-thirty-three

꒰ 16k ꒱ your body thrums with a strange, residual ache — not pain, but presence. like something has settled beneath your skin, quiet and irreversible. you don't have the words for it yet, but whatever passed between you and sunghoon in that moment wasn’t just physical. it’s something older, deeper, and it’s already taken root.

CHAPTER THREE ━━━━━ eletromagnetic emo ghost

꒰ 21.6k ꒱ all day, he feels you — in the air, under his skin, in every pulse that isn't his own. he watches you stumble through the day, dazed and aching, and hates that he caused it. but more than that, he hates how badly he wants more.

CHAPTER FOUR ━━━━━ resist the urge to bite (or kiss)

꒰ 35.2k ꒱ you want answers, but you also don’t want to ask. when you finally see him again, your body reacts before your mind can. and when he speaks — low, careful, restrained — it only confirms what you’ve been afraid to admit.

CHAPTER FIVE ━━━━━ hanil women university

꒰ 18.2k ꒱ the tension between you builds — sharp, close, and unbearably restrained. and when you finally ask if he regrets it, sunghoon doesn’t answer with words. he just looks at you — and it’s enough to know the truth.

CHAPTER SIX ━━━━━ necklines & near-death experiences

꒰ 24.3k ꒱sunghoon is shaken. and now that the bond is forming between you two, it’s not just instinct — it’s blood memory. he’s caught in something ancient and irreversible. and for the first time, you’re not the one in danger — he is.

CHAPTER SEVEN ━━━━━ orange blood

you never knew. and now everything — your instincts, your reactions, the way your body answers sunghoon before you can think — starts to make sense. it’s not legacy. it’s inheritance by accident. buried. hidden. and now, waking up.

EPILOGUE ━━━━━ bad desire (unleash)

it’s not soft. it’s inevitable. after nights of denial and tension so thick it ached, this moment snaps like a pulled thread. it’s teeth, breath, hands, and truth.

TSJ TAGLIST ━━━━━ CLOSED

TAGS: @ikeugirly @vixialuvs @hoonprksung @kyunlov @verialuv @sagegreenhairclip @gal821 @hoonstrology @httpenhoon @questionsdearreader @mynameis-rosie1 @staygenesblog @stercul1a @nshmrarki @imeowni @harusoraa @niki788 @sosaphiee @seokjinthescientist @gloomyasphodel @ferjinyoungiee @temuao @p1ecetinyzen @theothernads @jellymiki @yepins @rift-in-worlds

"What the hell? This is the guy we have to somehow magically put in handcuffs?"

You groan out, frustration evident in your voice as your thumb and index finger press firmly against the bridge of your nose, massaging the tension that has been building there since the start of this meeting. 

Your chair creaks beneath you as you sink back into it, the leather cool against your back, though it does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

The room goes dead silent for a long, agonizing moment. 

The only sound that fills the space is the faint, rhythmic hum of the air conditioner, its steady drone doing little to calm the storm of thoughts racing through your mind. 

The cool toned lights above seem to buzz just a little louder in the quiet, and you can feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the room on you, waiting for you to say something else, to react, to do anything other than sit there in stunned disbelief.

"Well, he's sort of the ringleader of the mafia that's been terrorizing people on the other side of the city, so yes — that's the guy we have to catch," your coworker says, their tone far too casual for the gravity of what they've just dropped on your desk. 

They take another bite into their ube flavored macaron, the crumbs dusting the corner of their mouth as they chew, oblivious to the way your entire world has just tilted on its axis.

In front of you, sitting right there on your desk, is a photograph of a man — the same man you're supposed to somehow catch, apprehend, and put behind bars. 

The same man who, according to the file beneath the photo, has been orchestrating a web of crime so intricate that the department has been chasing ghosts for nearly three years.

You stare at the picture for a long, long time. Your eyes trace every detail, every line and shadow captured in the image, as if staring at it long enough might reveal some hidden truth, some sign that this is all just an elaborate mistake.

The man in the photograph seems to be around six feet tall, though it's hard to tell exact height from a picture alone. 

His hair is a striking mix of brown and blonde, though it leans closer to blond, the kind of hair that probably catches the sunlight in a way that makes people turn their heads without meaning to. 

He has a tall, elegant nose bridge, lips that are a pretty shade of pink, slightly curved in a way that suggests he might have been caught mid-thought, or perhaps mid-sentence. 

His eyes, oh, his eyes — his eyes are the same shape, the same dark brown, the same intensity that once made your heart race for entirely different reasons.

Nishimura Riki.

The name sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and sweet all at once. 

You remember how it used to feel to say it, whispered in quiet moments, laughed over shared jokes, cried into pillows when everything fell apart.

Fuck. 

Who would've ever thought your ex from back in the day, the same boy who used to trip over his own feet, who had the dorkiest laugh you'd ever heard, who held your hand like it was something precious, would become the most feared mafia leader in the city? 

That the same hands that once traced hearts on your skin would now be stained with the kind of darkness you've spent your entire career fighting against?

The thought of it alone felt incredibly absurd. 

After what felt like an entire millennium, each second stretching into an eternity as the photograph burned itself into your memory, you finally let out a long, breathy sigh. 

It escapes your lips slowly and deliberately. Your shoulders drop just slightly, the tension in your body shifting rather than just disappearing entirely.

"Okay, then," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "So when do we plan to start our operations in catching this guy?"

Your fingers tap rapidly against your desk, a nervous habit you've never quite managed to shake. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of your nails against the wood fills the silence between your words.

"If I were to suggest," your coworker begins, setting down what remains of their macaron and wiping the corner of their mouth with a napkin, "we could start this evening, maybe at around six? From the insights I've gathered from Mrs. Yoon's department, there's a high possibility they're just hanging around at the abandoned bread factory just a few turns away from the main highway. It's been one of their known spots for… well, gatherings."

You nod slowly, processing the information, already mentally mapping out the route in your head. You know that factory, or at least, you know of it. 

Everyone does. It's been decommissioned for years, a crumbling skeleton of what was once a thriving business, now reduced to nothing more than a ghost of the past.

"Then so be it, we'll start tonight. I'll come along—"

Your words hang in the air for barely a second before another voice cuts through, sharp and insistent.

"Wait, no, it's fine if you don't head out with us." One of the senior officers shifts in their seat, their expression a careful mask of concern disguised as professionalism. "We heard Mr. Nishimura is a very dangerous figure to be around. His reputation precedes him, and frankly, we don't know what we're walking into. It would be safer if—"

A beat.

The room falls silent again, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on everyone present. You can see the way your coworkers exchange glances, the subtle raise of eyebrows, the barely perceptible shake of heads. 

They know, or at least, they suspect, that there's more to your investment in this case than professional duty.

"I can manage," you say, cutting through their hesitation like a blade. Your voice is calm, measured, but there's an edge beneath the surface that wasn't there before. "I believe I've encountered people worse than him."

The lie slides off your tongue easily, smoothly. 

Have you encountered worse? 

Perhaps. 

But none of them wore the face of someone you once loved. None of them had hands that once wiped your tears, or a voice that once whispered promises of forever.

"But—"

"Nothing can change my mind. I will come along." You say it firmly this time, leaving no room for argument, your hand already reaching out for the mug of hot coffee sitting by your desk. 

The ceramic is warm against your palm and you take a slow sip, letting the bitterness coat your tongue as your coworkers exchange one final look.

After a moment, they nod, a reluctant acceptance of a battle they know they won't win. 

They've worked with you long enough to recognize the set of your jaw, the steel in your eyes. 

You're definitely not backing down.

After a quick exchange of additional reminders, meeting points, squad arrangements, who will take point, which vehicles to use, the chain of command, you wave off your coworkers, watching them gather their things and file toward the door of your office. 

Their footsteps echo against the linoleum, a steady march of duty and obligation, until the last of them disappears beyond the frame.

Then, complete silence.

After everyone has left, you still can't shrug it off. 

The feeling sits heavy in your chest, a heavy rock dragging you down into depths you thought you'd escaped years ago. 

Your college sweetheart, the boy who used to sneak you notes folded into tiny paper stars, who would wait by your dorm every morning with a smile that could melt glaciers, who held you when your world felt like it was crumbling, is now one of the most wanted criminals out there.

The irony isn't lost on you. The universe, it seems, just has a cruel sense of humor.

You take another sip of your coffee, staring down at the photograph still sitting on your desk. Riki's eyes seem to stare back at you, and for a moment, you swear you can see the ghost of the boy he used to be hiding somewhere in those depths.

God damn it, Nishimura Riki.

The cold wind of the evening hits you without warning, an invisible force that seems to have been lying in wait just for this moment. 

It whips across your face with a vengeance, sending strands of your hair flying directly into your eyes and mouth, effectively undoing the careful lip stain you had applied just moments ago in the car mirror. 

And frankly, it felt like the universe was already setting the tone for how the rest of this night was going to go.

You sputter, spitting out a strand of hair that had the audacity to stick to your freshly painted lips, and swipe at your face in frustration.

It was annoying, to say the least. 

The car driven by your colleague has run out of gas — a fact that became painfully obvious when the engine sputtered, coughed, and died an unceremonious death on the side of a road that felt far too deserted for comfort. 

In this economy, with inflation rates climbing higher than your patience has been dipping, you'd probably spend more trying to get a tow truck out here rather than just buying a few liters of gas and calling it a learning experience. 

In short, you and two more colleagues are stranded by the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but empty fields and the distant glow of city lights that feel impossibly far away.

Of course, your other workmates are aware of the situation, the department's group chat has been blowing up with a chaotic mixture of concern, directions, and at least three different people offering to bring gas. 

They're sending as much help as they can to get that car fueled up again, but with it being rush hour on a Friday evening, it'd take them a really, agonizingly long time. 

The traffic in this city is notorious, a living creature that swallows cars whole and spits them out whenever it damn well pleases.

"Why the fuck would you not fuel this bad boy up before heading out?" one of your colleagues asks, their tone caught somewhere between genuine frustration and barely suppressed amusement. 

They're trying so hard not to giggle at the absurdity of it all, a squad of trained professionals stranded on the side of the road like a bunch of teenagers on a road trip gone wrong.

"I didn't expect it to be that far," the driver shoots back, defensive, their hands gesturing wildly at the empty road ahead as if distance itself had personally betrayed them.

"You've been here multiple times," the first one counters, raising an eyebrow.

"My point still stands," the driver mutters, already pulling out their phone, navigating through the screen with practiced fingers until they find the flashlight switch. The bright beam cuts through the growing darkness, casting long shadows against the tall grass that lines either side of the road.

So what did you guys decide to do? 

After a brief, somewhat heated discussion that involved a lot of pointing at maps and debating the merits of waiting versus walking, the three of you decided to just walk to the factory. 

The idea being that it'd probably be better that way, because god knows what worse situations the car could get into aside from losing gasoline. A flat tire? Engine failure? Getting towed by some overzealous parking enforcement despite being very much parked legally on a public road? With your luck tonight, anything was possible.

A blessing in disguise, definitely. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

The factory is only an eight-minute walk away according to Google Maps, which your colleague optimistically announces while conveniently ignoring the "approximately" that usually means "longer than you think." 

To add more fuel to the fire, you guys are apparently going to be the first people to arrive there too. 

All of the other cars got separated back in the city due to the hectic traffic and busted stoplights that would flash red a few seconds too early, trapping cars in intersections and creating a domino effect of chaos that spread through every major street. 

By some cosmic joke, you three had to just be there first.

Perfect. So, so perfect. 

You could practically hear the universe laughing at you. 

The walk to the factory itself was pretty quick, maybe because you got stranded with your colleagues who were both awarded "Clown of the Year" during last year's Christmas party — a title they wore with immense pride. 

Their constant bickering, terrible jokes, and off-key humming made the eerily silent and dark walk to the factory an incredibly funny one, despite the circumstances. 

One of them kept making shadow puppets with their flashlight while the other narrated a dramatic nature documentary about "the wild detective in its natural habitat." 

It was stupid, childish even, but it kept the creeping anxiety at bay.

Finally, after about a while and two LANY songs later, one playing from someone's phone speaker, muffled by the wind but recognizable nonetheless, you arrive at the outside of the factory.

The structure looms ahead, a massive silhouette against the darkening sky. 

What was once a thriving bread factory now stands as a skeleton of industrial ambition, its windows either broken or boarded up, its walls covered in graffiti that you can barely make out in the fading light. 

But there's something else — something that makes you pause and crouch low, pulling your colleagues down with you.

You could confirm that there are people here. Even hidden behind really tall grass that reaches well above your waist, you could see the view really well. 

Years of training have taught you how to observe without being observed, how to take in details while remaining invisible.

There are two bodyguards seated by the entrance, their postures relaxed but alert, cigarettes glowing orange in the darkness as they take drags in between conversation. 

They're dressed in dark clothing, nearly blending into the shadows if not for the faint light spilling from inside the factory.

"Jeez, who hired those two to be by the entrance," a colleague of yours whispers, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

You can see them gesturing toward the guards, clearly amused by something, their posture, their expressions, maybe just the concept of them hanging by an abandoned bread factory. 

They nudge your shoulder, and you immediately nudge them back, harder, your eyes narrowing in warning, indicating for them to keep their voices down.

The place was well-lit with what seemed to be newly bought light bulbs, their brightness almost harsh against the abandoned backdrop, and a couple of vintage-style lamps that cast warm pools of yellow across the cracked concrete. 

There were maybe around three black vans parked to the side, their windows tinted so dark they looked like voids. 

And two vehicles near the entrance, one white car and another black car, sleek and expensive-looking even from this distance.

You could see, faintly, that there was a person leaning against the white car. The figure was tall, arms crossed, illuminated just enough by the nearby lamps to reveal the outline of a silhouette.

You couldn't really make out the face, or anything distinguishing. 

Just a shape. 

A presence.

Just as you guys were about to head in, with all equipment ready, earpieces adjusted, weapons checked, positions assigned, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. 

The buzz is insistent, urgent, and it causes all of you to halt and press yourselves further into the tall grass.