Canvas

You press your back against the double hinged doors, pushing through whilst carrying a heavy crate of beer. You grunt in effort as you lift the crate onto the counter, releasing a sigh of relief as you step back, elbows perchiing on the sink behind.

“Looks like it won’t be as busy today, sunbae.”

You turn your head, and watch as she saunters her way to the crate with an exaggerated sway in her hips. She crouches down in front of you, her shirt riding up and exposing the small of her back. Your eyes drop before you can stop them, admiring the dimple. You look back up only when her head turns to you.

“Pass me the beers.”

You push off the sink, and walk to the crate. You pull out one beer, and place it in her open hand. Again and again. The movement is almost mechanical. Your eyes stay trained on her—the soft curve of her chest from above, and her thighs, all tense from crouching. You breathe sharply through your nose, your grip on the neck of a beer bottle a bit too tight. You want to put your mouth there. Between her legs. You don’t even try to take it back.

After the last bottle, she rises to her feet so slow it’s almost performative. You know you’re staring, but you can’t wrench your eyes away. She stands up tall next to you, fluttering her eyelashes, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Anna Tanaka is a shameless flirt. Has been since she first stepped foot into this small, decrepit place your boss calls a bar. Throughout orientation, her eyes stayed on you. Only you. And she made no effort to hide it, either. She even personally asked for you to train her.

Not that you’d object. One look at her and you’d have said yes to anything.

Both of you stare out to the rest of the place, watching the few patrons already here. Jackasses in office suits, nursing a couple beers that will later evolve into buying tequila shots or whiskey bottles. A lone man at the other end of the bar. Looks like he’s been crying. Not your problem as long as he pays and doesn’t make a scene. There’s one person dancing to some shitty bar music you no longer care to remember the name of.

It’s a wonder you haven’t gone deaf yet with how terrible and loud it is.

“It’s rarely busy on a Wednesday night Tanaka. People who come into bars on a Wednesday are here for two reasons: one,” you lift your index finger. “They fucked up so bad at work, they have to drown their sorrows. And two,” you lift another finger. “Their home life is so shit, they’d rather be anywhere else.”

She looks over to you. “So what does that make us?”

You meet her eyes, holding her gaze far longer than necessary. “We’re the exception. We’re here to make money.” You flash her a toothy grin, one that she reciprocates.

You glance over her shoulder, and you see someone wave for service. You point with your eyes. She scoffs before making her way over, and you watch as she taps her fingers across the counter, the other hand coming up to her hair, shaking it loose.

You gulp unconsciously.

Her forearms press against the hard counter. She’s on her tiptoes, leaning closer to hear his order, and you can’t help yourself. Your eyes travel from her long, toned legs to her ass. Her skirt is so short that it rides up, revealing its curve and the panties underneath.

Black. Lacy.

You grip the counter harder than you intended, standing there for a second, jaw tight, cock already half-hard, reminding yourself that you’re here to work.

Once your breathing is under control, your eyes travel up and meet hers.

She’s smiling that sultry smile that tells you this was all on purpose. Her eyes travel lower to your tight jeans, biting her lower lip before turning her attention back to the customer.

It started with mindless flirting. She’d tell you that you look good, and you’d say that pigtails suit her, like you haven’t been thinking about them all shift or imagining wrapping them around your hands. And it evolved from there. Your hand lightly grazing against her lower back, her pressing up against you to light slaps on her ass and not so light gropes on your balls. You never complained.

A new customer pulls your attention to the edge of the bar.

“Behind.”

You try and squeeze past her except she arches her back and presses her ass against you and the sound that leaves you isn’t professional or controlled or anything close. You feel yourself strain against your jeans.

She doesn’t look back, but you see the way her thighs press together and you know she’s just as affected.

She later joins you in making a drink and she has the audacity to press up against you. Her chest presses against your arm as she reaches for a whiskey glass. You feel the stares from behind, the daggers thrown at you by men who thought they had a chance with her.

You breathe out slowly, head tipping back.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Tanaka—”

“And you’re a willing participant sunbae.” She’s right, but you’re not going to answer her. “Pass me the bottle.”

You grab it without looking, handing it over and ignoring the way her fingers linger on yours for a few seconds. You watch as she pours the content into a shaker, watch as her wrists snap back and forth, and you can’t help but imagine it’s your cock in her hands. And that thought has your pulse thrumming in your ears, and your throat dry.

She leaves your side, moving to serve the customer, and already you miss her scent.

The alarm on your phone rings out. 6PM. You finish serving your customer before you walk behind her, one hand on her waist, mouth grazing against her ear, your breath washing over her. If the customer she just served had anything to say, he didn’t, not when it’s clear she’s enjoying you behind her, her eyes slightly rolling back, a shaky breath escaping.

“6PM. Evening rush.” You gently blow against her ear, your hand tightening on her waist. “Want a shot?”

She turns her head slightly to look at you, eyes travelling down to your lips. For a moment, you see it, the composure slipping. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, her cheeks flushing. Her breath is warm against your mouth, and you push yourself further into her.

“Y—yeah.”

Your free hand reaches down, grabs two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila from under the counter. Your eyes stay on her as she turns her head, watching you pour two shots and making a mess of the counter. The hand on her waist travels up, slowly. Fingertips grazing her exposed midriff, between the valley of her breasts before planting themselves at the base her throat. She swallows hard, and you can’t help the smile on your face. You put the bottle down, take a shot glass, and hold it to her mouth.

“Open up.”

Her head tilts back, resting against your shoulder and you’re hit with her scent, surrounding you. Vanilla and sweat mixing together. Intoxicating and arousing. You harden at her feel and smell, your cock pressing firmly against her ass.

She can’t help the moan escaping her, quiet like a whisper. Only you and the person she just served could hear her.

You tip the shot into her mouth. Watch as her face grimaces at the taste and burn, her throat working it down to her stomach.

“Good girl.”

A drop of tequila lingers on her bottom lip, threatening to make its way down her chin. You place the shot glass down on the counter hard, moving your thumb to swipe at the offending drop.

She watches, eyes half-lidded, as you press your thumb against her lips. They open without resistance, sucking with fervour.

You groan in her ear, loud and obnoxious. If she sucks your thumb like this, you can’t imagine what she’d do with your cock.

A squeaking barstool interrupts your little performance. The customer adjusts himself, the drink already gone.

“Take this,” you push your shot glass of tequila towards him. “On the house.”

You turn to face her again, your lips coming down and pressing on her temple. Your voice is soft yet rough, your arousal seeping through despite your best efforts to cover it. “Let’s finish our shift early.”

She nods enthusiastically. Whines when you step away just as more customers enter the bar.

The next couple hours were hectic.

You go through through the motions. Taking orders, mixing drinks, and the occasional wave to the security guard to kick someone out. There are too many bodies. The room smells like sweat and a concoction of perfume that don’t mix well. You watch people move to the dance floor, grinding all over each other as if they won’t have regrets come tomorrow morning.

The bass from the speakers vibrate throughout the bar, the music muffling the orders from the patrons. The floor and counter is sticky from spilled drinks, and other liquids you don’t want to know about.

And through it all, Anna is the only one that makes working these shifts all worth it.

The two of you work in sync, moving around each other like it’s a practiced dance. Neither of you speak, already knowing what the other needs. Whenever you go high to reach something, she’d go below you, occasionally brushing your cock with her arm. She doesn’t look back at you as you shoot a glare in faux annoyance, stuck standing in that awkward position until you’ve calmed yourself down. 6 months of training, of teasing and being teased—it adds up.

A patron flags you down. “I don’t want you. I want her!”

Your expression turns cold. “I’m sorry sir, she’s busy with a customer right now. You can wait but it could take a while.” You turn to her, watching as she makes eyes to some nervous university student, chin propped up in one hand, the other placing featherlight touches against the back of his hand. You smirk despite yourself, watch as he goes red in the face, stuttering incoherently. She smiles, eyes turning into crescents as if she was genuinely interested. He pulls out his wallet, slaps more bills down onto the counter as a tip.

You chuckle, turning back to the man. “Or you could get a drink now and enjoy the rest of your night.”

He grumbles his order, turning around to look for someone more willing as you move off to make his drink.

It’s simple really. You deal with the sleazy, old men that come to leer at her, some of them don’t even bother removing their wedding rings. And she takes care of the young, and shy interns or students who don’t know what to say to someone as hot as her. You protect her from unwanted advances and she rakes in huge tips.

Simple. Effective.

Eventually, activity at the bar slows down. Besides the men eyeing her up, no one has come up for drinks in the last five minutes.

You lean against the wall, eyes darting from a group of girls making a nuisance of themselves on one of the tables to a man being overly aggressive with the DJ. The place is getting warmer, unbelievably so. Everything feels damp, your hands are clammy from doing nothing, and it feels like you’re breathing in sweat more than anything else.

“Sunbae…” You turn to Anna, pushing through the doors, walking up and joining you against the wall. “You were right. AC is down."

You suck air through your teeth. “Of course it is. What did the boss say?”

She leans against you, head resting on your shoulder. She takes one of your hands, intertwines her fingers through yours.

“Nothing much. Can’t do much about it now he said. Technician’s coming in tomorrow.”

She keeps talking. You don’t hear any of it though, eyes trained on the way her hand melds perfectly with yours, how your thumb instinctively rubs the back of her hand as if you’ve been in a long term relationship.

Your eyes travel up her arms, glistening with sweat, rivulets finding their way down before falling on to the floor. Her crop top sticks to her like a second skin, the top of her breasts shining against the strobe lights. You watch her face, and how matted her hair is, sticking to her forehead, and you think you want to see her like this again. But in bed.

“Seriously?”

You swallow thickly. “W—what?”

She turns, properly facing you now. “Tell me.” One leg moves between yours, a constant, pleasurable pressure on your cock that you can’t help but release a rough moan. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. It must be good if it has you like… this.”

You smirk devilishly. “Are you sure you can handle my fantasies?”

Your hand moves from your side, presses against her navel. Your thumb swipes against the smooth plane before you bring it to your mouth, tasting her.

It’s tart. And addictive all at the same time.

Anna’s eyes grow wide, pupils swallowing the colour of her eyes. Her breathing becomes shallow and the flush on her cheeks from the heat in the air, darkens further in lust.

You lean down until your mouth brushes against her ear. You start whispering just as your hand on her stomach inches its way down.

“I want you so bad. Ever since you first joined. Your constant teasing…” your hand dips underneath the hem of her skirt, “… made it so hard for me. How are you going to repay me?”

“I—I—” She doesn’t finish.

You press down against her pubic bone, and the sound that escapes her is a revelation. Far better than whatever sound your mind concocted. Her eyelids become heavy and her breathing erratic against your face. Her lips are parted, and you stare at them for the longest time, trying your best not to kiss her right there.

Your hand travels lower against her panties. Soaked through. You leave your hand there, rhythmically tapping against her core in time with the beat of the music, and you watch as her composure slowly falls away.

She’s pushing herself onto your hand, grinding against you in such a way that it’s not obvious to those on the other side of the bar. The movement is light and miniscule, bouncing on her tiptoes for more friction.

You laugh in her ear, mocking. “Is that enough?”

Her eyes flutter shut, head falling and resting on your shoulder. Both her hands have a hold on your arm, keeping your hand right where it is.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected by all this. The top of her hair right under your nose, the smell of her shampoo filling your lungs. Her chest touches yours, her erratic breathing pushing her tits into you. The soft mounds a sharp contrast to the stiff peaks of her nipples poking you. What’s affecting you the most though is the wetness coating your hand. It’s soaking through the lace and it’s sticky and the fact you’re the root cause feeds your ego.

“Hey, you two.” Her eyes snap open, body frozen against yours. You both turn towards the voice. Your co-workers come through the door, one on their phone, the other struggling to carry a new crate of beer. “You’re on break. Take—”

You don’t hear the rest.

Anna forcefully pulls your hand out of her skirt, her grip tightening on your wrist so that it’s almost painful. She drags you through the doors, ignoring the puzzled look from the others. She doesn’t stop, not until you’re in the storage closet, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You’re already on your knees as she turns around. Your hands finding her waist, pushing her flat against the door.

You hear the sharp intake of breath, feel her thighs quiver as your breath washes over them. She looks down at you, her eyes screaming, begging you to follow through. You press a kiss on the inside of her thigh, and she’s snapped, her head hitting the door with a heavy thud.

You take things slow. A soft kiss against her knee, a lick up her thigh followed by quiet suction, and eventually, your teeth grazing against her core. You repeat this on both legs. 10. 20 times. You don’t know. But the painful strain in your pants and the way her fingers thread through your hair means she’s done waiting.

“Pl—please sunbae… please…”

Her sentences are incoherent, too lost in the feel of you to properly say what she wants. But you know. And you’re excited to give it to her.

Your hands travel down from her waist, and climbs up underneath her skirt. Her skin feels hot against yours, and you suddenly remember all the times you’ve touched her prior to this moment. Like when she used the shaker for the first time, her small hands encompassed by yours as you taught her your technique. Or when she brushed hair out of your eyes during that one shift, her fingers lingering against your temple longer than necessary.

You’re not stupid. Her signals were obvious. And so were yours. Both of you were bound to fall off the edge at some point.

Your only regret is that you’re going to fuck her in the dirty storage closet of your workplace.

Your hands find what they’re looking for. Her panties. You pull them off slowly, watching as it clings onto her lips before peeling off. You inhale her scent, breathing in deeply. It’s intoxicating and it makes your head dizzy. Your tongue darts out your mouth, one long lick and you can’t wait to taste more.

“Oh… fuck…”

You stay down, tasting every inch of her, focusing especially on her clit, sucking and flicking it with your tongue. Her arousal starts coating your mouth as you keep going despite the ache in your jaw and the lack of oxygen as she clenches her thighs around you.

Soon enough, her legs start to give out, back sliding down the door. Your hands quickly move, throwing one leg over your shoulder before making their way to her ass, holding her up as you continue eating her out.

Her moans are loud, unrestrained. She’s repeating the same word like a chant, slowly devolving into broken noise. They used to be measured, coming out every few seconds or so. Now it’s an endless stream of curses and your name spilling out of her mouth. If it weren’t for the loud music at the bar, you’d surely be caught by now.

You can’t see her, face covered by her skirt but all the signs are there. The way her walls flutter around your tongue as you push in. Her thighs shaking incessantly around your ears, and how her grinding has become more forceful. She’s lost all semblance of control, the dull ache from her grip in your hair turns into searing pain. It’s like she’s forgotten you’re a person; you’re a toy, your sole purpose being to help her reach her high.

“Fuck… fuck…”

You’ll gladly be a toy if it meant seeing her like this again.

You lap at her folds, tasting every inch of her like she’s some delicacy no one’s heard of. The pressure of your tongue is consistent, driving her crazy. It’s enough to keep her on edge, just not enough to push her over it. The hand in her mouth leaves, and the music from the bar is replaced by her.

You move up, tongue darting over her clit with precision, circling it with the tip. Or you press it flat, feel her shake at the constant stimulation. You replace your tongue with your mouth, sucking on her clit gently. Her whimpers grow louder, pitched higher, and she’s arching her back, pressing herself firmly into your mouth.

She goes quiet first, her body frozen. And then she breaks. Her whole body convulsing, thrashing hard enough that you’re losing your grip. Her mouth is open in a scream, and you feel her arousal coat your chin and stain your shirt.

Your mouth returns to her folds, lapping as much as you can while she whimpers, oversensitive. Her grip on your hair loosens, her arms like jelly as she tries to push you away.

You eventually relent, lowering her down to the floor, her leg falling limply from your shoulder. You remove yourself from under her skirt, and already you miss her smell and taste.

It’s the first time you’re actually seeing what you’ve done. She’s folded against the door, her exposed stomach glistening from exertion, chest heaving, an attempt to get as much oxygen into her lungs. Your eyes move to her mouth, lips parted, tongue partially out as she looks at you with glassy eyes. Her hair is matted against her forehead and her cheeks are flushed a deep crimson.

You crawl over her, hand moving behind her neck before you kiss her. It’s messy and languid, her tongue gently caressing yours. She moans against your mouth, tasting herself on you—sweet yet tangy—and she wants more, kissing you with so much fervour, it catches you off guard.

“I—I taste so good…”

Only now you realise this is your first kiss with her. And it’s in the back of the bar, with her cum all over your mouth. You don’t know what you expected your first kiss with her to be like but it certainly wasn’t this.

You move your lips down as she tilts her head up, sucking hard against her skin. She moans, hand coming up and cradling your head against her as you leave a bruise. You swipe your tongue along the column of her throat, all the way up to the shell of her ear as you use your free hand to free yourself from your jeans.

You’re harder than you’ve ever been before, the head is swollen, red, and dripping precum in the small space between you.

You slowly get to your feet, one hand on your cock as you shuffle closer, the jeans around your ankles making it awkward and annoying. And Anna’s staring at it the whole time, her glazed eyes focusing, tongue wetting her lips as she swallows thickly.

Her head is still pressed against the door as you press the head of your cock against her lips, coating them with your precum. She opens without resistance, letting you push all the way until you’re at the back of her throat. She gags around your length before closing her lips around it, tongue flicking underneath the head. You rest a hand against the door, the other pulling her hair into a ponytail as you start slowly thrusting into her mouth.

The haze of her orgasm has made her pliant, more willing to your advances. If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t consider fucking their face like you are with her. She just brings that side of you out.

“Fuck… your mouth feels so good.”

You hear a muffled mewl at your praise, and she starts working harder, timing her head bob with your thrusts. She pays extra attention to your tip, circling her tongue around it and flicking at the slit. You watch the way her lips cling to your cock as you pull out, at the spit escaping from the corners of mouth, dripping slowly down her chin.

Her arms that were limp at her side, suddenly gain strength, and slowly makes their way from her toned, sweaty midriff to her crop top. She pulls on the neckline, releasing her breasts from their confines just as the spit falls, landing in the valley between. She pushes her tits together, coating them in spit, twisting and pulling at her nipples. She moans, and the vibrations along your length almost sent you over the edge.

You grab her head with both hands, forcing yourself further down her throat. She’s gagging at the intrusion, cloudy eyes that were staring up at you now squeezed shut with tears threatening to fall. Your pace turns brutal, the slap of your balls against her chin drowns her gagging and the patrons outside. Occasionally, her head bangs against the door. She doesn’t complain though, hands moving to your ass, pushing you further in until her face is flush against your stomach. You keep her there, amazed at how well she’s doing. How she swallows around you, massaging you, and how, despite your attempts to pull away, she traps you there, refusing to let you leave despite her tears mixing with her mascara down her cheeks.

You breathe heavily through your nose, the grip on her head loosening, replaced by gentle pats on her head. “Good girl.”

She swallows around you, tries to push you in deeper. As if your praise was the encouragement she needed to deepthroat you further. But eventually, she had to let you leave.

Your cock is slick with a mixture of her saliva and your precum. You look over at her, chest heaving, coughing every few seconds. You don’t give her much rest though, already pushing back in, slower, gentler. You’re not chasing the high, only the feel of her wet mouth around you.

The suction, the vibration of her moans all becomes too much. Your hips stutter, the rhythm of your thrusts breaking.

You pull out immediately, catching your breath, your hand resting on the door, keeping you up.

“W—why did you stop?” She looks up at you with wide eyes, the flush on her cheeks spreading down her neck to the top of her breasts. She tries reaching for your cock again, mouth almost over it before you press two fingers against her forehead, stopping her in her tracks.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you reach your hand out to her, and you see how quick the decision was made in her eyes. She takes it without hesitation, allowing herself to be pulled up by you. Her hand is small in yours, dainty too. Like she doesn’t belong in a place like this, making drinks and relying on tips to get through the months.

Her feet are still unsteady as she stands, her hand reaching out and landing on your chest as she steadies herself. Your free hand instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her flush to you.

You stare at her for the longest time, memorising her features. The tiny freckles along her nose, her deep, dark eyes that you could get lost in if you let yourself. She’s staring at you like she belongs to you, waiting for you to do something, and it tightens something in your chest. Your eyes start mapping her face and you see what you’ve done to her. The mascara streaks down her cheeks, the smudged lipstick across her parted lips. She’s still panting, her breath washing over you.

You let go of her hand, placing it where your heart is. You caress her cheeks, wiping at the mascara before doing the same at her lips. You watch in silent surprise at the way her mouth automatically opens wider as your thumb brushes against it before entering. Her lips, red and swollen, wraps around it, sucking on it gently. Her cheeks hollow as she stares into your eyes with a sultry look.

You’re breathless, eyes dilating at the scene, your cock hardening too, especially when her free hand reaches down, stroking you against her stomach, twisting at the head.

You close your eyes, your forehead finding hers as you let her continue sucking your thumb and stroking your cock. The sensation is wonderful. Her soft, lithe hand feels exquisite on you, the way she squeezes at the head or rapidly jerks you off at the base and it reminds you of when she uses the shaker.

“Anna…”

You slowly open your eyes, removing your thumb from her mouth. You place both your hands on her cheeks before closing the distance.

The kiss is different. It’s not an act of passion or an in the moment kiss. It’s one that highlights how much she’s liked you in the time you’ve known each other. All the emotions poured into it as if words aren’t enough to tell you everything.

You just hope you were able to show how much you care for her through yours.

You begin to move, stepping out of your jeans, hands still on her face, and your lips still attached as you drag her further into the closet until her back is pressed against the shelves. A groan escapes her as her back softly slams against it before she finds your mouth again. The spare pint glasses on the shelves start shaking as you push her further into it.

You both separate, foreheads touching as you both breath heavily in the space between. Both your eyes fall to your cock, twitching against her folds, leaking precum, and the pair of you moan at the sight. You hold it by the base, sliding it along her folds, and she pants against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, biting you gently to muffle the sounds spilling from her mouth.

“S—sunbae…”

You don’t wait any longer. You continue rubbing yourself on her as your other hand finds the back of one of her thighs. You lift it high. Until her foot is beside your head, and her leg is sandwiched between your bodies.

“F—fuck…”

You push inside, groaning at the overwhelming heat and tightness. Her orgasm has left her wet and dripping, making it easier to slide in further. Anna exhales shakily against your mouth, her breathing uneven. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging deeper the further in you go. When you finally bottom out, your pelvis pressed flush against hers, do you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you watch as her eyes flutter close, head falling backwards, knocking a few tumblers down.

You stay like this, enjoying the feel around you, the way her walls flutter along your length. You look down at where you join, and her name comes out your mouth subconsciously.

“Anna… look.”

And she does. Watches as you start grinding. She’s moaning softly, and her eyes start dilating. The hands on your shoulders move down to your chest, weakly pushing at you. “Move.”

You start slowly, pulling all the way until your tip before slamming all the way in. Your thrusts are heavy and hard. She takes your whole length with every stroke, and every time you bottom out, a whimper spills from her mouth, broken and desperate. Her back arches against the shelves, and the way she clenches around you as you pull out—like she’s trying to stop you from leaving—is overwhelming.

“Y—you’re so deep…”

Her eyes roll back at a particular hard thrust, jostling her against the shelves. More glasses tip over but you don’t care anymore. Your entire focus is on her.

You fuck her faster, harder. Her walls start fluttering around you with no rhythm, trying to milk you. She breathlessly repeats your name, eyes closing in pleasure, hands grabbing the uprights. The slap of skin on skin, and your panting, drowns everything out, even your ringing phone.

You see everything. The way she bites her lip in a futile attempt to stay quiet, her tits bouncing with every hard thrust. You look down, and you can see where you connect, how she has a tight grip on you, how she stretches around your girth. Every time you pull back, more of her arousal escapes, running down the one leg she’s standing on.

“Shit… don’t stop—please…”

The leg on your shoulder starts shaking violently. Your hand moves, gently grabbing the ankle, thumb soothingly caressing it while you plant soft kisses against her calf. The smooth skin feels wonderful against your lips, and you imagine how great it would be to have them tangled with yours in bed.

“M—more…”

Your other hand grabs her breast, kneading the flesh, her nipple poking through your fingers. You hold on as your pace increases, your hips snapping against hers. You’re breathing heavily, eyes travelling to her face where her eyes are closed, tears spilling.

Her walls clench around you erratically, her moans growing louder, becoming more high pitched, more desperate. “I—I’m gonna c—cum…” Your thumb and index fingers find her nipple. You pinch and pull and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm hits her hard, back arching high, a scream tearing from her throat. It’s so loud, you had to cover her mouth. Her pussy strangles your cock, gushing around you, and you feel wetness on your thighs.

You keep your pace steady, ignoring her oversensitive gasps. Her hand claw at your shoulder, and she tries to remove her leg. You hug her leg, keeping it on your shoulder as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm, her tears flowing freely now.

Her flushed cheeks, parted mouth, and her glazed over eyes. She’s so distractingly beautiful like this that you temporarily lose your rhythm.

You feel your balls tighten, pleasure coiling at your spine, and the fact that she whispers your name—all broken, desperate, and rough—sends you over the edge.

You slam into her one final time, burying yourself deep. And you cum. The orgasm is blinding, your vision blurring as the pleasure rips through you and you empty yourself inside her, filling her with rope after rope of cum. She moans brokenly as she milks you for everything you have and more.

For a few seconds, nothing exists except the two of you. Your heavy breathing mingles in the space between you. Her slick skin presses against you, and you wish you could stay like this forever. But reality comes back—Anna’s chest moving up and down quickly, the mess between her legs, and your legs start shaking too.

You pull out slowly, and she whimpers at your loss. You slowly lower her leg onto the floor, catching her as she falls forward. You gently bring her down to a sitting position, back against the shelves as you take a seat opposite. Your cum starts leaking out of her, mixing with her arousal, staining the floor underneath.

She starts laughing breathlessly, her foot tapping against your thigh as she looks at you with what can only be described as adoration in her eyes. “My legs are numb.”

You chuckle under your breath. “Sorry. Guess I got a bit carried away.”

Her hand moves to her hair, ruffling it slightly before it makes its way between her legs, scooping up your cum with two fingers. You watch as she plays with it. “Don’t be. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” She puts her fingers in her mouth, cleaning them before pulling it out with a loud pop, showing you the evidence.

“You’re going to be the death of me Tanaka.”

She moves, crawling towards you with an exaggerated sway of her hips and a predatory grin on her lips. She settles on your lap, fingers gently grazing your cock back to full mast. She leans toward you, until her lips are inches from yours.

“What are you doing?” She asks, padding into the small kitchen. You hear the cabinet open, the clink of a bowl, the rush of cereal hitting ceramic. Milk pouring.

When you don’t answer, her footsteps return. You feel her standing on the other side of the table, bowl in hand, the sound of her spoon hitting the bowl the only noise in your apartment.

“I’m waiting in line. For tickets. To your concert.”

Silence. Then—

“What?”

You risk a glance up. She’s staring at you, spoon halfway to her mouth, milk spilling back into the bowl, her expression caught between amusement and disbelief.

“I’m in line,” you say slowly, like you're explaining it to a child, “to get tickets to your new concert.”

She chews deliberately, letting you sit in it. “Why? You know I can get you tickets, right?”

You shake your head. “No. I want the full fan experience. Waiting in line. Buying tickets. All of it.”

She snorts mid-swallow. Chokes. Her hand flies to her mouth as she coughs, eyes watering, shoulders shaking with laughter she’s trying to suppress.

“You’re—” she coughs again, “—you’re so stupid.”

You look up—really look—and your breath catches.

No makeup, hair still messy from sleep. The morning light from the window behind you catches on her face, softening her edges. You’re so used to seeing her on screens now—stage lights, camera-ready, untouchable.

This version tightens something in your chest every time.

A ping from your laptop snaps your attention back.

The timer hits zero. The page reloads.

SOLD OUT.

“What?” Your mouse clicks uselessly. Refresh. Refresh. “No. No. No. Are you serious?”

The screen doesn’t change.

She’s moved behind you, head just over your shoulder, laughing. Not sympathetic. Delighted.

You freeze. Turn to her slowly.

“Yooyeon.” Pause. “Baby.” She cringes at that. You hold up one finger. “Can I please have one ticket?”

She stands up straight, taps her chin, pretending to think about it. “Mm… no.”

“Why not?” You’re whining now and you don’t care.

She braces one hand on the table and leans in. Close enough that your eyes drop to her mouth without permission.

“You said you wanted that fan experience,” she murmurs, moving until her lips nearly brush your ear. “Experience not going.”

You snap your head toward her, eyes wide. She’s already smiling—that smile. Eyes creasing into crescents, cheeks high.

“That’s not fair! You distracted me!”

You stand, your chair scraping against the floor. She’s already moving, circling around the table as you lunge right. She dodges left, laughing, the sound bright and unguarded. She nearly trips over a chair leg, stumbles before recovering. You feint towards the bedroom. She breaks for the couch.

You catch her around the waist just as she tries to dart past the window.

You both collapse onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs, breathless.

You start pressing kisses everywhere you can reach—forehead, nose, the corner of her mouth, her cheek.

“Ew—stop—” She’s laughing, squirming, not actually trying to escape. “Alright, alright!”

You pull back just enough to see her face. She’s grinning.

So are you.

“Yeah? Can I get VIP? Maybe a one-on-one photo with Kotone?”

Her smile sharpens. “Don’t push your luck.”

——

A month later, you’re at the front door, coat on, car keys in hand.

You pull out your phone to check the ticket one last time—VIP, front row, Section A—and you can’t help the smile.

A text comes through before you can pocket it.

Yooyeon: Do you like it?

An image loads.

Blonde. She’s blonde now.

The photo’s clearly taken in a dressing room—bright lights ringing a mirror behind her, group mates blurred in the background, moving. But she’s in focus. Hair falling just past her shoulders, wavy, lighter than you’ve ever seen it, framing her face in a way that makes her look both familiar and completely ethereal.

Your throat goes dry.

You stare at the photo longer than you should.

It’s been so long since you’ve last seen her. She’s always at the company, rehearsing. If she’s not there, then she’s with her group in the dorms.

You miss her.

Another text comes through.

Yooyeon: Well?

You type fast.

You: Love it.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Yooyeon: See you tonight?

You glance at the ticket on your screen.

You: VIP

Yooyeon: I know

——

A minute later and you’re at the water cooler. You lean down, grab a plastic cup and pour yourself some water. You drink another. And another. You feel hot and dizzy, Sohyun’s teasing still on your mind.

How did she know about your crush? There’s no way she did all that and not know about it. You grip the edge of the cooler. She always knows.

You stand straight, loosening your tie before gulping down another cup. You stay at the cooler for a few more minutes, hoping by the time you’re back at your desk, Xinyu’s gone. Hope that Sohyun shuts up and does some work for once.

Your prayers weren’t answered.

You hear her before she comes into view—laughing, voice pitched low. An intern stammers something. Files hit the floor. You turn and look. She’s crouched beside the intern, handing them the files one by one. Then she ruffles their hair.

She stands back up and approaches the water cooler.

“Enjoying the show?”

You don’t answer, choosing to read the endless number of flyers on the board instead.

She stands in front of you, grabs her own cup before drinking.

You shouldn’t look. You do anyway. How she tilts her head further back than normal, the way her throat bobs after every swallow. You look lower, the top buttons of her shirt undone, her loosened tie hangs crooked.

You hear a little laugh—low, barely audible. She’s watching you stare out the corner of her eye, a smirk plastered on her face.

You walk off before she can say anything.

——

You look down at the clock on your computer screen.

7pm.

Most of the workers have left for the day. Just you and Park Sohyun.

You stretch your arms above your head, a small sound escaping your mouth. You remove the headphones before rubbing your eyes. With deadlines approaching, you’ve been spending more late nights at the office, crunching numbers, creating diagrams.

You stand, wobbling a bit. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep from the hours in front of your screen. You grab your coat and your bag, ready to leave.

“Hey, can you help me with this?”

You close your eyes. The elevators were right there.

But something pulls you back. Obligation. Stupidity.

You sigh loudly. Let your head drop and trudge over.

“Something doesn’t look right on the spreadsheet.”

You lean, hovering over her shoulders, checking her work. You scroll up and down. Looking for the mistakes she made. Ignoring the scent of her perfume surrounding you.

“There,” you say, circling the problem with the mouse, “the equation is wrong. It’s supposed to be this.” You lean down fixing the equation and watch how the spreadsheet corrects itself.

“My saviour,” she props her chin on her hand, watching you like you’re a puzzle to solve.

You keep your eyes on the screen.

“Is that it?”

She nods her head slightly.

You’re halfway to the elevators when she calls for you.

“Wait for me.”

You ignore her. Press the button to call the elevator. When it arrives, you enter quickly, press for the ground floor and push the close button. Again and again.

Her hand catches the door.

“Wow. You’re fucking rude.”

You ignore her comment and step to the side.

The journey to the ground floor feels like hours.

From the corner of your eye, you see her reach up. The clip comes out. She shakes her hair loose, then turns toward you.

You don’t make eye contact. But the doors are polished steel. You see her anyway—tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning back against the railing.

“You like Xinyu? She’s too good for you,” she says, tilting her head to get a better look at your face, at your reaction. “She’s got a nice body, I’ll give her that. Long legs. Pretty smile.” She pauses, eyes flicking to yours in the reflection. “That round—“

You turn, facing her. “What are you doing?”

She bites her bottom lip. Pushes off the railing and steps closer. Too close.

“It’s fun teasing you.”

You stare at her. What the hell is she talking about?

“You act all high and mighty. Act like whatever I do is beneath you, that it doesn’t affect you,” she plays with your tie, twirling it around her finger. “But I think there’s more. I think you enjoy it and I’m starting to wonder how long before you break.”

The door opens suddenly. She walks out without another word. Heels tapping against the tile—sharp and even. You’re still standing there, breathing too hard.

——

You walk along the streets of Seoul in the early morning, weaving through people as you get to work. It’s cold. Your coat doing little against the winter wind, hands trembling.

You enter the building, pausing to warm your hands. You wait for the elevator. Bow to a coworker. And another. You’re not really seeing them.

You smell her before you see her. She’s beside you. Of course she is.

The elevator door opens. You get in quickly, aiming for the back before she follows. More people start filing in, pushing you into a corner.

She’s in front of you. Facing you.

The elevator begins its ascent. She shifts, pressing against you—just slightly. She’s watching your face. You breathe in. Stare at the ceiling panel, the lights, anything.

Her hand finds your forearm. Squeezes. Firmly. You look down. You don’t want to. But you do anyway.

Your vision blurs at the edges. It’s her face—sharp and clear.

Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing her face, making it harder to look away from. Glasses sliding down her nose. She’s looking at you over her frames.

Your breath catches. She licks her lips—slow, deliberate.

This isn’t teasing anymore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken her threat so lightly.

People leave. There’s more room now but she doesn’t move but presses closer.

The door opens on your floor. You exhale loudly. She steps back slowly. Her fingers trail down your forearm—light and deliberate. Then she turns. Walks to her desk like nothing happened.

——

You feel your eyes slowly close.

You’ve been sat in this meeting room for two hours, manager droning on about numbers, projections, expectations. You don’t retain much. Just twirling your pen between your fingers.

You scan the room. Everyone’s half asleep—stifling yawns, glazed eyes. Until you reach her.

She’s not looking at the presentation. But at you. Chin propped up on her hand. Fingers lightly tapping against her cheek—slow, rhythmic. Like she’s waiting for something.

Your eyes drift lower. Lips parted. Glossed. Catching the light. Top buttons undone, a small necklace rests on her collarbone.

You turn back towards the presentation.

A gentle thud echoes in the room. You ignore it. Until you can’t.

Your head snaps toward her.

Her heel. On the floor. And she’s not picking it up. Then you feel it. Her foot. Sliding up your calf. Slowly. Higher and higher.

She gives you a wink.

Your breath catches. Your heart—

“Are you paying attention?”

You turn your head back to your manager, face burning.

You swallow. “Y—yeah.”

He narrows his eyes. Holds your gaze for a beat before continuing.

You hear it. Quiet but there.

She’s laughing.

Her foot slides down. Slowly. She slips her heel back on.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just staring at the presentation like your life depends on it.

——

The meeting ends. You stand and make your way to her quick. You grab her wrist—tight—and pull. She stumbles after you. People are staring. You don’t care. The emergency stairwell. You don’t slow down.

You slam the door open, shoving her inside. Her back hits the wall. You take three steps back and begin pacing, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your voice echoes in the stairwell.

She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

You stop pacing. Moved closer until you tower over her. “We’re at work and you’re doing this shit!” You say, voice low and harsh.

She tilts her head. Looks up at you through her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She’s breathing heavily. You’re just too angry to notice.

You press in closer. Your leg between hers. Your hand finds her wrist and pins it to the wall beside her head. You’re close enough to feel her breath. To see her pupils dilate.

“Is this what you want?”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

You lower your head. Until your lips are a breath from hers. This would shut her up.

You close your eyes as you inch closer. Hers stay open.

Your lips graze hers. You pull back. Fast. You stumble slightly.

She pushes off the wall, smooths down her shirt, readjusts her glasses. “Nice try. You’ve made a scene now. Good luck talking yourself out of this.”

She opens the door. Walks out. You see your coworkers. Staring.

Everyone saw.

——

You didn’t think life here could get worse.

Everyone around you whispers. About you. About the stairwell. You’re painted as the villain. Jealous. Unstable.

If only they knew what she was doing to you.

You turn up the volume in your headphones. Try to drown them out. It doesn’t stop the stares. Or that condescending smile of hers.

You feel a firm grip on your shoulder. You look up. Your manager. Your hand slides an ear cup off.

“Follow me.”

Fuck.

You’re going to get fired aren’t you?

——

No. You’re not getting fired.

Actually it’s worse.

Your manager has assigned you to a project. Something about logistics, delivery, supply chains. You’re not really listening.

That’s not the problem. The problem is who’s leading it.

Park Sohyun.

And you’re her second in command.

——

“Alright, you all know your assignments. Fighting!”

People begin filing out, the first meeting for the new project successful. You slowly pack your things. Stand. You take a step out the door—

“Not you. I need to speak to you.”

You freeze mid-step. You turn to face her, still by the podium. She points to a chair. You sit. She moves closer, settles on the edge of the conference table, looking down at you.

You swallow visibly.

She studies you. “I hope you can stay professional. We don’t want another stairwell incident, now do we?”

You see the smirk on her face, eyes gleaming in amusement. She’s loving this.

“N—no.”

“Good. You can go.” She waves you away. You bang your knees on the table. You ignore the pain, moving towards the exit.

You’re halfway out when she speaks again.

“I told you I’d break you.”

——

The numbers, the pie charts. They all begin merging into a blur.

The past few days have been hectic. Always is when a new project gets underway. The need to have something tangible to impress the higher ups.

You’ve barely had time to sleep, staying late in the office every day. Your eyes strained from staring at the monitor for so long.

“Here.”

You look up. It’s Sohyun, offering you a cup of coffee. You take it, looking down at it sceptically.

“Did you spit in this or something?”

She slaps the back of your head.

Sohyun hasn’t tormented you in the last few days. Too busy with the project but you’re still hyper-aware. Every time she’s close or talking, you half expect her touch or a jibe.

This is the first time she’s approached you in days. And strangely enough, you miss it.

Not because you miss her. Just… the distraction. The days are boring without it.

“You look tired. Thought you could use some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You stare at the cup before taking a small sip, wincing as you burn your tongue.

“How’s the data analysis going?”

You shrug. “Should be ready by tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Good work.”

Your heart jumps a little at the praise.

She doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching you work, sipping her coffee every now and then.

Your heart beats rapidly. Waiting for her to touch you or make an inappropriate comment. You feel her hand on the back of your chair.

“You made a mistake here. And there.”

You glance up at her in surprise before following where she pointing. She’s right. You quickly make the changes.

She hums in approval before walking back to her desk. You finally exhale, shoulders dropping.

“What? Disappointed I didn’t try something?” She says as she sits back down, smirking.

You shouldn’t ask. You do anyway.

“Why aren’t you?” You add quickly, “Not because I miss it.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. She rests her chin on her fingers. “You’re boring now.”

“What? And I wasn’t before?”

“That reaction at the stairwell? I don’t think you could top that.”

Your face heats.

She’s challenging you. Baiting you.

You take it anyway.

“How do I not be boring?” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant.

She smiles wide. Stands and leans over your desk. You see a hint of her bra underneath her shirt. Your throat suddenly goes dry. You try to look away. Too late.

“Be more assertive. More reckless. That’s when people are fun,” she says like it’s obvious. She moves suddenly, towards your manager’s desk. Grabs a key and opens the bottom drawer. Pulls out a bottle of expensive whiskey before placing it on the table with a heavy thunk.

“You want some?”

You stand abruptly, your chair rolls back, hits the desk behind. You cross to her. Grab the bottle from her hands, open it and take a swig.

You hold it in your mouth—to look like you’ve done this before. You swallow. Your throat burns. You start spluttering.

She laughs. Her hand finds your back—rubbing, soothing. “Easy there,” she murmurs.

Once your coughing dies down, you look at her. Her expression shifts. Surprised. Impressed. You shove the bottle into her hands. Nod at it.

She holds your gaze. Brings the bottle to her lips.

Your eyes go lower. Her throat bobs after every swallow. You swallow along with her.

She places the bottle back on the desk when she finishes. There’s a drop of whiskey on her lips. You track it as it glides down her chin. Falls onto her shirt, staining the fabric.

Her shirt—when did she undo more buttons?

You look back up. Her gaze still on you, pupils dilated. Lips parted. Your breaths mingle. Everywhere smells like whiskey.

You push forward. Grab her waist. Crush your mouth against hers. It’s messy and loud. She moans. Opens her mouth. You don’t hesitate, forcing your tongue in.

She steps back until she’s pressed against your manager’s desk. She reaches back, sweeps the paper and pens onto the floor. The whiskey also falls. Shatters. You don’t care.

You lift her onto the desk, kiss her neck. She moans—right into your ear. Her legs lock around you, hands going to your belt—

The sound of the vacuum breaks both of you out of the spell.

You separate, breathing heavily. You crane your neck towards the sound. They don’t know you’re here yet. You look back at her, already buttoning her shirt.

“Want to get out of here?” She asks.

You can only nod.

——

Your manager frantically searches his drawers, muttering. “What? Where’s my bottle?”

You ignore him, focused on getting your tasks done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him move closer to Sohyun. Your fingers hit the keyboard harder than normal.

He leans on her desk. Lowers his voice. “Have you seen my… special drink?”

“You mean the one in the locked drawer?”

“That’s the one!”

“Nope. I’ve been too busy.” She doesn’t give him her full attention, eyes glued to the computer screen.

He stares at her, waiting for more. When nothing comes, he frowns, walking back to his desk.

Sohyun stares at you over her computer screen, smirking. You try to fight the smile coming. You fail.

She slams her laptop shut. Grabs it and stands. “Come on. Let’s head to the meeting room.”

——

Sohyun stands at the front of the room. Clicking through slides. Assigning tasks. Fielding questions.

You’re not listening.

Last night keeps playing in your mind. The hickey left on her collarbone. How her thighs locked around your waist in the backseat of her car. How her nails raked down your back. The pain is still there. But it was worth it.

You can’t stop staring. Her lips are still swollen. You notice a slight limp when she walks. Favouring her left leg as she paces. You can see the hickey, barely peeking out of her shirt.

You smile at the memory.

“Anything to add?”

You shake your head, still smiling. Then you notice: everyone’s staring at you. Confused.

She glances at you, amusement on her features. “Alright then. This is the final push. Don’t let the team down.”

Nods all round the table. Chairs scraping. One by one they file out. Until it’s just you two.

She doesn’t move. Stares at the door until it clicks shut. “You were undressing me, weren’t you?”

You look down at your laptop, pretending to make notes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She walks toward you. Slowly. The limp still there. She grabs the armrests, spins your chair to face her. She grips your chin, forces you to look up.

“Tonight—shall we finish what we started?”

“Didn’t we?” You don’t break eye contact. “In your car?”

She leans down, her mouth next to your ear. “I’m talking about the manager’s desk.” your eyes widen. “How hot would that be?”

No. It would be stupid. Crazy.

But you’ve had a taste of doing reckless shit. A taste of her.

And it’s addictive.

You pull her onto your lap, kissing her roughly. She laughs into it.

That answers her question.

——

“F—fuck…”

You grab her tie from round her neck, stuff it into her mouth as you continue to pound into her.

She’s under you. Eyes rolled back. Pants gone, panties around one ankle by your head. Her shirt, ripped open. You’re pretty sure you tore a few buttons. You need to reimburse her for that. Her glasses are still on, now askew.

God, she’s the most beautiful thing here—one hand fondling her breast. The other gripping your hand by her waist tightly.

You’re not gentle. She doesn’t want you to be. You can still hear her moans through her tie. You’re close. Too close.

She lets go of her breast, reaches for something by her head. Her phone. You don’t question it. Open the camera. Frame her: Shirt torn open. Tie between her teeth. Sweat on her collarbone. One leg hooked over your shoulder. You take the photo. Show her. She looks at herself. At what you’ve done to her. Her eyes grow dark. She nods.

More.

She cums. Hard. Her walls tightening around you. You finish inside her. No hesitation.

You lean over. Kiss her hard, desperate.

You take a few steps back, collapse onto the manager’s chair and watch as your joined fluids spill onto the desk.

You laugh. So does she.

You’re both still breathing hard. She sits up, places her feet on the armrest. Drags you closer. You look into her eyes as you start buttoning up your shirt. Disheveled. Smiling. “What, no round 2?”

You caress her leg, placing soft kisses on her calf. Up to her knee. She shivers. “My place?”

She considers. Then nods.

——

“W—why is my desk sticky?”

He’s looking around for someone to blame. Everyone’s staring at their screen, ignoring him.

You hear your phone buzz. Look down. Message from Sohyun.

It’s one of the photos from last night. Her. On the desk. Tie in her mouth. Below it: Shall we tell him?

You look up, eyes wide. She’s already looking at you. You watch as she bites her lip. Laughs into her fist. She’s already lifting her phone. Aims it at you. Your phone buzzes a second later.

Your face? Priceless

——

You open your laptop. Spreadsheet already displayed. You crack your knuckles, stretch your neck, and begin to work.

The project’s deadline is tomorrow. It’s almost done—just a few changes left to be made. The slack channel constantly pings with new messages from other team members. Updates on their tasks, offering assistance.

The shower head suddenly turns off. Five minutes later, Sohyun comes out: hair damp, wearing your t-shirt. It’s big on her—neck line too big, exposing one shoulder, hem falling to mid-thigh. If the deadline wasn’t tomorrow, you’d have thrown her on the bed for round 2.

She pads to your bed, wet footprints marking your carpet. She climbs under the sheets. Grabs her phone from the nightstand. You look over. She’s scrolling through the slack channel before tossing her phone away. She stretches. T-shirt riding up her thighs. You feel your heart rate pick up. You turn back to your screen. Try to focus.

She turns to you. Scoots until she’s pressing against you. Grabs your chin and begins kissing you messily. She tries to close your laptop. You stop her.

You pull away. “I still have work to do.”

“Do it after.”

“You just took a shower.”

“I can take another.”

You chuckle. Turn back toward the screen.

She watches you, annoyance marring her features. “Fine.”

You last only five minutes when you hear moans beside you. She’s touching herself. You try to ignore it. Her breath quickening. Your name spilling out of her mouth—needy. The way her legs spread wider. Your throat goes dry.

You look over. She’s watching you, a teasing smile on her face. She brings a finger to her mouth. Bites it. That look—you can’t get used to it.

You’re hard. Aching.

You shut the computer, toss it onto the floor, and pounce on top of her. She’s giggling like she’s won.

You crash your lips on hers, pushing your tongue in. Replace her hand with yours. Swallow her moans.

You don’t know when she became more important than work.

——

After the deadline, she decided to stay for the weekend.

You don’t argue.

You feel her eyes on your back. “What?” You ask, still facing the cooker as you make breakfast.

She’s sat at the table, chin resting on one hand, the other drawing patterns on the tabletop. She’s only got a bra and your boxers on. You love the sight.

“You’re weirdly hot you know?”

“Thank you?”

“I mean it,” you turn around, place a plate in front of her before sitting across from her. “If you keep your hair messy like that and wear those glasses…”

You stare at her as she bites her lip. Rubs her thighs together. You’re surprised she’s acting like this—at just a thought. “Maybe I will.”

——

Monday comes round. You’re looking at your reflection in the window of her car.

You followed her advice: messy hair, glasses instead of contacts. You adjust your glasses, touch your hair. It feels weird. You feel her hand on your thigh.

“You look fine. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be on you right now.” Her hand climbs higher, nails slightly brushing your groin.

A small groan escapes. You grab her hand. “I’m not going into the office hard.”

“Why not?”

You don’t give her an answer. Instead, you watch outside. People waiting for buses. Cleaners on the street, removing evidence of whatever happened last night.

“Let’s play a game.”

You hum in response. Curious now.

“First person to get dragged into the supply closet wins.”

“Sohyun… no.”

“Why? We already fucked on the manager’s desk.”

“You’re talking about doing it during work hours.”

“Exciting right?”

Crazy. She’s crazy.

But you’re already imagining it. Her pressed against the shelves—

What has she done to you?

——

You get off a block away from the entrance. Whatever this is between you two, you both keep it secret. No rumours. No questions.

You enter the building, scan your ID and wait for the elevator. People are staring. Your hair. Glasses. Gossiping. You look towards them. They look away, giggling.

Sohyun arrives a minute later, stands beside you. Smirking. “Told you it looked good.”

The elevator arrives. You move to the back. Sohyun stands in front of you, back to you. As the elevator ascends, she moves back. Her ass pressing against you.

You try not to look down at her. You fail. She’s typing something on her phone. Holds her phone over her shoulder.

Game starts now

She presses harder. You bite the inside of your cheek, face burning. You look around. No one’s paying attention. Don’t react. Not here. Not yet.

When the elevator reaches your floor, it empties. Just the two of you left. You lean in, groan softly into her ear. Watch the goosebumps rise on her skin. You sidestep around her before heading to your desk. You don’t look back.

Two can play this game.

——

It’s barely lunch and you’re already losing your composure.

She’s good. Really good.

A glimpse of her bra when she leans over to hand you something. She drops her pen deliberately. Lets it roll under your desk. She ducks under the desk. Her hand finds your thigh—not the pen. Every time she leaves for the bathroom, your phone buzzes. Photos of her. Hair tussled. Shirt open, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach. You do your best to hide them from your colleagues. Angle your phone away from your desk neighbour. But they just keep coming.

“Are you okay?”

You lock your phone immediately. Look up. Zhou Xinyu. She’s frowning. Concerned look on her face. “I—I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re looking really red.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

She walks off. Then stops. Turns to you. “By the way…” You look over your shoulder at her. “Like the new look.” She winks at you.

You swallow visibly. Your phone buzzes again.

What the fuck is happening?

——

You look over at Sohyun, eyes pleading. Her foot’s on your groin again, pressing firmly. You bite your knuckles, trying not to moan. She’s smiling innocently.

She doesn’t stop, not even when some intern comes to flirt with her. She’s in her element. Laughing. Flirting.

You hate it.

You know she’s watching you, even when she’s not paying attention. How your jaw tightens when she laughs at a terrible joke, her hand playfully slapping his arm. She presses harder with your every reaction.

“What is with the tired looks, everybody? It’s Monday! A brand new week!”

A momentary respite when your eyes turn to your manager. You look around. Everyone’s eyes look heavy, their movements sluggish.

“This won’t do. You!” He points at you, beckons you closer with his finger. You slap her foot away before standing carefully. You walk slowly to him. “Go down to the cafe. Coffee is on me!”

Cheers of delight come from the team. Internally, you’re celebrating the reprieve.

You quickly make your way to the elevator, ignoring Sohyun.

“Can I join you?”

You turn. Xinyu stands beside you. “Sure. Going on your lunch break?”

She stares at you for a moment before turning to the elevator doors. “Something like that.”

Behind you, Sohyun watches the elevator doors close. Her eyes narrow.

——

“Let me pay.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s the manager’s card.” You flash the card as if it was treasure.

She laughs. Covering her mouth with her hand. “If you insist.” She gestures you forward.

You move to pay then proceed to order for the rest of your team. 5 iced americanos. 1 caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top.

You don’t know why you remember that.

You walk over to where Xinyu’s waiting, busy on her phone. She sets it down as soon as you’re beside her.

“What’s with the new look?” She asks.

“This? Sohyun suggested it. Said it looked good on me.” You don’t look her in the eyes when you answer, remembering what happened after she said that.

The eggs were cold.

“You’ve been hanging around her a lot lately.” You look up, wait for her to continue. “You’re a lot different from before you worked that project together.”

You narrow your eyes. “Good different? Bad?”

You’re interrupted when her order comes out first—placed in front of her. She bends over her drink, holds the straw close to her mouth.

“Not sure yet. Just different.”

You watch as she drinks. You shouldn’t be. The way her cheeks hollow. Her eyes trained on you.

You shift uncomfortably.

When did everything become so sexual?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “Excuse me.”

You move away towards the window. Stare down at your phone. Another message from Sohyun. This time a voice note. You press play. Press it against your ear.

You almost drop your phone.

She’s moaning your name. From the echo, she’s in the bathroom again. You hear her breathing heavily, voice raspy.

You can imagine it: her on the toilet seat, fingers between her legs, coated in her wetness. Her eyes fluttering close, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

You press your head against the window, a thud echoing in the cafe. Xinyu’s looking over at you in concern. You ignore her, focus on getting your breathing in check. Focus on not losing this game.

Then you hear it: a sucking sound through the speakers.

It ends there. Like a teaser for what’s to come. You check the time on your phone. 5 more hours until the day’s over.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

You quickly turn. Xinyu’s close. Her face centimetres from yours. You don’t know how long she’s been standing there. Don’t know if she heard any of it. You hope she didn’t.

“Y—yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shakes her head. You feel your cheeks burn under her gaze. Did she hear it? What would she think? You see her raise her hand, point to your forehead.

“Your forehead. You hit it pretty hard on the window. It’s going red.”

You bring your hand to your forehead, feel a slight swell.

Fuck.

“It’s fine. I—“ you look over her shoulder and see the barista placing your order onto the counter. “The order’s ready.” You quickly move, thankful for the interruption.

You grab the coffees. Thank the barista. You turn to Xinyu. “Shall we head back?” You don’t give her time to answer, already walking to the exit.

——

“I told you. It’s fine.”

“If you don’t do something about it, it’s going to get worse. The swelling will get bigger. Redder. You could end up with a headache. Or have to go to the hospital.”

“Okay. You’re exaggerating now. I don’t actually—“

The elevator doors open. You see Sohyun stopping at the sight of you and Xinyu. Close. Her hand brushing the swell on your forehead. Gently blowing on it as if that would fix it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her angry.

“Is that the coffee order?” Her tone is cold. Emotionless.

“Y—yeah.”

“Great. Xinyu, could you—“ she takes the coffee from your hands, shoves it into hers. She grips your wrist. Tight. “—hand them to the team. Thanks.”

She’s dragging you out of the elevator before you can make a sound.

——

This feels familiar. Her dragging you. Of the time you dragged her out that meeting. Karma has a weird way of getting back at you.

She drags you up the next floor. Accounting. It’s a quiet floor. People here tend to mind their own business. They won’t notice how she opens the supply closet, shoves you inside, and locks it behind her.

You don’t know if you should be aroused or terrified.

She pushes you into a worn office chair. Grabs your tie. Forces you to look up before crashing her lips against yours.

You don’t respond. Can’t. Already feel her tongue invading your mouth.

She straddles you. Unbuttons your shirt one by one. You move your hand to do the same to hers. Only for her to slap them away.

Her lips leave yours, inches away. “You don’t get to touch me.”

You swallow hard. Try to chase her lips only for her to lean further back. She grinds against you. A moan escapes you. You don’t care anymore. Don’t care that someone might find you. Might hear you. Don’t care if your manager wonders where the fuck you both are.

You just want her.

You hear her heels fall to the floor as she undoes the last button. Feel her nails scratch you from your collarbone to your hips. Her eyes darken as she looks over you.

She presses her lips on you—your collarbone, your chest. She trails down until she can’t bend anymore.

She sits back up. Straight. Removes her own shirt before tossing it behind her. Forgotten. Grabs your chin roughly before kissing you. Desperate. Messy. Like staking a claim. Her other hand trails down, undoes your belt, the button before fishing you out, stroking you slow.

“Fuck…”

She smiles into the kiss, loving the way you easily fold.

She’s off your lap now, shimmies out of her own trousers. Smirks when your pupils dilate at the sight. No panties.

You try to reach her. You’re only met with her hand holding both your wrists, pinning them to the shelves behind you.

She straddles you again, grabs you and aims you into her. She lowers herself onto you until you’re fully inside.

You groan at the warmth. She groans at the fullness.

She rides you. Hard. Panting into your ear. Biting your ear. You’re too far gone to think clearly.

The shelves behind you start rattling, random items falling around you.

For a brief moment, you remember where you are. That someone walking by could see what’s happening.

You let out a loud moan at that thought.

She clasps her hand over your mouth. To make you quiet. But no one’s making her quiet. She grows louder. And louder. Until she has no choice but to stuff her own tie into her mouth.

You feel yourself getting harder at the sight.

She’s close. You can feel it. The lack of rhythm in her bouncing. The stutter in her breathing. The way she shuts her eyes tight, trying to hold herself together.

You finish first. Inside her. She follows soon after. Head collapsing on your shoulder, hand letting go of your wrists. They fall around her waist. You hold her tight. Wait until your breathing is under control. She places her hand over your chest, over your heart. Smiles at its rapid beating.

When you both calm, she lifts her head before lowering her lips onto yours. Softer. Gentler.

You part, eyes locked. “I win.”

She tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

“You said whoever gets dragged into the supply closet wins right? I won.”

You watch the realisation dawn on her face.

“Fuck you.”

——

“Damn it. The door’s jammed again. Is maintenance gone already… fuck.”

The supply closet door continues to rattle as one, two people try to get it open.

“Fuck it. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

You grab your phone. Read the time: 5:50pm. You’ve been here the entire afternoon, half expecting messages from your boss: where the fuck are you, where’s my fucking credit card. You didn’t get any of that, just a single text from Xinyu.

Told them you got hurt pretty bad on the way back from the cafe. Told them Sohyun went with you because she’s got a car.

You need to thank her for that. And explain all this too. Or come up with a convincing lie.

“How long left?”

“10 minutes. How do you know Accounting will be gone by then?”

“They don’t do overtime. Or refuse to. Just how they are.” She gives a noncommittal shrug. Browses the items on the shelves. She’s walking around the supply closet. Naked.

“I should’ve used this on you.” She turns to you, shows you some tape before continuing her browsing.

You can’t take your eyes off her. Hair a mess. From the makeshift ponytail in round 3. The bruises on her hips. From when you gripped her a bit too tightly in round 5. The glistening on her inner thighs.

You’re aching at the memory.

She looks down. Smirks. You’re hard again. “Ready for round 8?” She saunters to you, hips swaying more than normal before sitting down next to you.

She grips you, stroking slowly, twisting at the tip. You move your hand to her mouth, watch as she sucks on your fingers before letting them go. You trail them down to where she’s already wet, rubbing in circles.

You rest your head on the wall behind, eyes closed, enjoying her hand and her soft moans. She’s on her phone, tapping away.

“Look at this.”

You slowly open your eyes. Look at her screen. Xinyu’s latest photo on Instagram. A mirror selfie. The mirror’s steamed, she’s wearing a bathrobe, shoulder exposed.

“Sohyun… what the fuck…”

“Imagine it’s her hand.” She whispers into your ear.

She’s stroking faster. Your hand lying motionless on her. You shut your eyes. Can’t help the image of Xinyu on you instead.

You exhale loudly.

“Jealous of her?”

“I am.” She blows into your ear. You let out a moan. “But I understand. She’s hot.” She stops. Hand moving down, grabs your balls. Tight. “Just remember that I’m the one making you feel this way.”

You kiss her. Hard. Moaning into her mouth as she strokes again. Faster. Relentless. You come. All over her hand.

You can’t do anything but watch as she brings her hand to her mouth, licks her hand clean, smiles at the taste.

After that display, she stands, finds her shirt, dresses.

“What about you?” You say weakly, unable to move.

“You can make it up to me,” she’s putting her hair up in a ponytail. “After dinner.”

She tosses you your clothes. Leans on the door, waiting for you.

——

You both make it to your floor. Quietly. In case anyone is still lingering.

When the coast is clear, you move to grab your stuff: jacket, bag, ID. Both of you run to the elevators, giggling like children.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket. Something’s in there. Soft. Unfamiliar. You pull it out.

Her panties.

“Thought you’d like a souvenir.” She’s smiling.

You walk in as soon as the elevator arrives and the doors open.

“Was this supposed to help with the game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t think it would end up being useless.”

You laugh boisterously.

As the door closes, you pin her to the wall, kissing her.

——

Dinner’s at your place. An order of fried chicken.

She’s cleaned up, now sporting only your hoodie. You’re in jogging pants, no shirt.

Some variety show plays on the TV. You’re not paying attention, content to watch her. How she holds the chicken delicately with just her fingertips. Her legs tucked underneath her. She laughs at something on the TV. It’s loud. Addicting. You can’t help but laugh along with her.

She reaches for another piece. Arches her back as she takes one from the plate. You see a hint of a smile. You huff. You’ve been caught. You lean back on the couch, focusing on the show. She moves beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. Offers the chicken. You take a bite. She laughs again before settling against you.

You throw your arm over her, thumb softly grazing her hipbone. You lean down, a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She looks up at you, eyes curving into crescents as she smiles wide.

Your heart skips a beat.

She leans up, pecks you on the lips before you can react and turns back to the TV.

——

At this point, she’s practically moved in. Which, by the way, is crazy. You’re pretty sure her place is bigger than yours.

You walk into the bathroom, see her toothbrush sitting next to yours. Counter space is nonexistent. Her essentials have taken over—lotion, cleanser, hair products.

You sigh. Grab your toothbrush. Start brushing your teeth as you walk around the bedroom.

Your desk is now her makeup station. Your wardrobe has her work attire.

(Only her work attire. She’s either naked or stealing your clothes whenever she comes by.)

You walk back into the bathroom, watching yourself in the mirror.

She comes in, wraps her arms round your waist. You stare at her through the reflection. At the way her hands start drifting lower, into your jogging pants.

You stop that immediately, turning, grabbing her and lifting her on the small space left on the counter.

You accidentally poke her eye with your toothbrush.

“Ow!”

You spit your toothbrush into the sink.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

She laughs, one eye closed.

You move close, kissing all over her face: the closed eye, her brow, her nose before ending at her mouth. One peck. Two. You dive back in, pushing your tongue into her mouth.

She reciprocates eagerly, one arm around the back of your neck. The other finishing her exploration of your pants. You feel her hand cup you.

You groan before lifting her, carrying her to the bedroom. She’s giggling the whole time.

——

“Re—really? They’re happy… with it?” She stutters, not paying attention to what’s being said on the phone.

A member of the project called. Updates her on what happened since she was away. The higher ups are happy with the project. They praised her leadership. Wants to reward the team with a big dinner.

She’s happy of course. But her mind’s elsewhere.

“Ha—have you talked with the other members? Asked what they w—wanted?”

She moves the phone away from her mouth. Covers the microphone as she moans loudly. Her head bangs against your headboard. “Keep going.”

She puts the phone back against her ear. Catches the last part of whatever was said. Her other hand reaches down, grabs hold of your hair, pushing you further into her. She starts grinding into your mouth.

You smile. Continue lapping at her relentlessly. The need to breathe no longer a priority. You start pushing a finger inside. Then another as your tongue moves up, circling her clit.

She bucks. You use one hand to hold her down.

“J—just let me know what the others decide. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” She ends the call quickly, throws her phone away. It clatters somewhere near the bedroom door.

“Oh my fucking—how are you so good?”

“I watched tutorials.”

“Can you send me the link? I want to show them to all my—“

You don’t let her finish, sucking on her clit. Hard.

You stop. Look up at her. Mouth wet. “Is there anyone else?”

She shakes her head quickly.

“Are you sure? Use your words.” You’re torturing her. Still, it’s nice to have power over her sometimes. Nice to see her chest rise and fall. See her cheeks flushed pink.

“No. No.”

You dive back in. Her head thrashes side to side. She extends her arm suddenly, knocking over the bedside lamp before she starts hitting the bed.

“Fuck fuck fuck”

She’s panting now, her thighs tightening over your head. You have to pry them open just to breathe.

“Keep going. Please— I’m close.”

Her thighs begin to quiver, tightening around you again. She grabs your pillow and screams into it as her orgasm tears through her. Her hips lift off the bed, dragging you with her. You don’t stop, working her through it.

Eventually, she loosens her thighs. Lets you climb over her, trailing kisses—hipbone, sternum, up to her mouth. She grabs the back of your neck, kissing you. Moans at her taste. You smile into the kiss.

“Did I make up for the supply closet?”

She can only nod furiously before kissing you again.

——

Friday’s here.

You kick the ground outside the office, your breath visible as you wait for your manager. Somehow, he’s managed to weasel his way into this celebratory dinner with your team. A project he wasn’t a part of. You don’t know why Sohyun agreed to this.

“Where are we going again?”

Oh and your manager invited Xinyu as well.

“Some new, fusion restaurant downtown,” you say noncommittally. You do your best to avoid her gaze, lest you face Sohyun’s ire. You wouldn’t mind, except all you and Sohyun have been doing lately is having sex. You’re kind of sore at this point.

“I shouldn’t even be here. I wasn’t part of the project.”

“You missed your opportunity to say no,” you say bluntly. Then you smile. Wry. “It’s alright. The manager wasn’t invited either yet somehow he’s coming along. Trust me, we’d rather have you there than him.”

She can’t help but smile. “Thanks. Feel a little better now.”

“Don’t say that. I heard there were plans to ditch you with him.”

She pushes you halfheartedly, laughing. You smile along with her.

“Alright! I’m here! Let’s go!”

——

“I call shotgun!”

You, Sohyun, and Xinyu stand frozen at the audacity of your manager. Watching him as he opens the passenger door to Sohyun’s car.

“Looks like he took shotgun,” Xinyu says as she walks to the back.

You look over at Sohyun. Her jaw is tight. She’s annoyed. At your manager or Xinyu, you’re not too sure.

“Can you drive?”

You huff. “Sure.”

She hands you the keys before making her way to the backseat, behind the driver.

As soon as you open the driver side door, your manager begins protesting. “What are you doing? This is Sohyun’s car.”

Sometimes, you want to punch him.

“She’s not feeling too well. Asked me to drive.”

“I can drive. Sohyun, come sit here.”

“No, no. I’ll feel worse there. Might throw up on you.” She makes a gagging sound. Your manager can’t help but gag along with her.

You look into the rear view mirror, see Xinyu smiling in amusement. You do too.

“Let’s go.”

——

“I swear I want to kill him.”

“You invited him.”

“He invited himself.”

“Should’ve said no then.”

“Whose side are you on?”

The both of you hang back a bit. Watch as the rest enter the restaurant. Xinyu lags behind the group, looking over her shoulder at you.

“Can we tell him what we did? That we stole his whiskey? Fucked on his desk?”

She’s leaning on her car. You’re standing in front of her, towering over her.

“That’s a sure way to get me fired.”

“You? Not we?”

“He likes you. He’d defend you. He’d paint me as some devil who seduced you into stealing his whiskey and having sex on his desk.”

She chuckles softly. She’s staring up at you, eyes wide. “If only he knew I was the seducer.”

You smile. “If only he knew.”

You lean down, kiss her softly on the lips before gently pushing her off the car and toward the restaurant.

“You think we could leave early? Or at least go to the bathroom?” She’s talking to you over her shoulder.

“Sohyun… I’m still sore from last night.”

“Maybe we could invite Xinyu to join us.”

You stay silent. She’s joking. Still, it’s not a bad idea. “Should we?”

“Fuck you.” She flips you off.

——

This is bad. Like a powder keg waiting to explode.

Your manager’s drunk. Is starting to get more handsy—firm grip on shoulders, pulling them close by the waist. Everyone’s uncomfortable. Especially the women.

You look to Sohyun, forced to sit by his side, shifting uncomfortably, drinking every shot he gives her. To Xinyu, staring at her flute of champagne, silent.

Your jaw tightens, knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the table. Yet you don’t say anything. No one does. Too afraid to speak out, to lose their jobs. Even Sohyun, who preaches recklessness, can’t seem to put her job on the line.

“Why is everyone quiet? Drink. Drink!”

Even the other customers are uncomfortable.

“Why aren’t you drinking?”

You turn to face him, a butter knife pointed toward you. Everyone’s looking, the guy next to you—his name you can’t remember—nudges you, points at the shot in front.

Before you would’ve stayed silent, down the shot, keep him happy.

But you’ve changed. For the better.

“I’m not drinking tonight. I’m driving.”

“Who? You don’t even own a car.”

“Sohyun. Xinyu,” you say, voice cold. “Anyone else who wants a lift.”

He cackles. “Everyone here can take a cab! They don’t need you driving them home! Isn’t that right Sohyun?”

You watch as his hand grabs hold of her thigh. At the way she flinches but can’t move away. Your vision goes red. You stand, punching him in the nose. You hear a crack, watch as he falls off his seat. You don’t stop there, walking round the table and pummelling him.

Crack. Another bone.

They pull you off him before you do something you regret. You’re breathing heavily. Ears are ringing. You can’t hear anything until you feel Xinyu push you, telling you to go outside.

You walk out. Lean against the wall before sliding down it.

——

You stay like that for who knows how long. Until you see her white sneakers.

You look up. Sohyun crouches down to eye level. Looks over your features. She brushes a strand of hair from your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get fired.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands cup your cheeks before leaning in. Kisses your forehead.

You smile despite yourself.

“Where is everybody?”

“The hospital.”

You hum in acknowledgement.

She moves to sit beside you. Your hand stops her, gesturing to your lap instead. You don’t want her to dirty her clothes. She gently sits down, back against your chest. She holds your hand in hers.

“They’re not going to say it in public… but they’re thankful. For what you did.”

“I don’t care about them. They saw what he was doing. Didn’t do anything.”

“Hey. You’re angry. I get it. But don’t blame them. The only person to blame is that bastard.”

You’re quiet. She’s right. You place your lips over her shoulder, kissing it gently.

“Are you okay? Drunk?”

She squeezes your hand. “Maybe a little.”

“Come on then. Let’s sober you up.”

——

Sohyun watches as you slowly pack your things into a box. Security guards watching your every move.

Rumours were quick to spread. Of the inappropriate way the manager was acting during the dinner. You thought you’d be arrested for assault. Except, everyone at the dinner defended you and someone let slip to the restaurant the company you all worked at. Online posts begin circulating: how this company could allow such behaviour. How the workplace must be such a toxic environment.

It was shut down quickly by the higher ups, ordering an internal investigation. Obviously, they couldn’t tolerate violence against a manager, so even if everyone defended you, you still had to be let go.

It’s fine though. You hated this place anyway.

You finish packing. Head to the elevator escorted by the guards. When you reach the ground floor, you hand them your ID, bow to them before walking out the door.

Xinyu’s outside. Waiting for you.

——

You find yourself in a small cafe. No one here save for you, Xinyu, and a barista who finds her phone more interesting than anything else.

“It’s not fair. Firing you.”

You look up from your mug, a small, defeated smile on your face. “You say that as if they had choice,” you watch as she’s about to protest, only for you to continue. “I broke his nose. They can’t keep me on after that.”

You watch for her reaction. When she lets out a frustrated sigh, you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

After a couple of minutes of just sitting there, drinking your coffee, she speaks. “So… you and Sohyun huh?”

You were about to say something before she stops you with her hand. “No one punches their manager unless they’re doing something to someone you like. Would you do it again? If it was me?”

You don’t hesitate. “I would.”

She stares into your eyes. Relief flooding her face at your answer. Her eyes though. They looked resigned. Like, despite hearing the answer she wanted, it was not what she actually wanted.

It felt like a confession. Of the crush you harboured for her for the last three years. You wonder what would’ve happened if it was her and not Sohyun you got close with.

You rid yourself of that thought. You don’t regret any of this.

“I told you that you were different since you spent more time with Sohyun. You asked if that was good or bad…”

“I remember.”

“It was a good thing. Even if she can be a bit… territorial.”

“Like when she had you in her lap? Hand on your thigh?”

She winces at the memory. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

Her eyes widen in shock, disbelief at what you said. You’re also pretty sure that the barista’s no longer paying attention to her phone, more interested in your conversation.

“I don’t really have a filter anymore.” You wave your hand in the air as if your explanation made it all better.

“Did she ever… talk about me?” She asks shyly. You lean in, ready to tell her about the supply closet before she sits up straight. Covers her ears with her hands. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. First time since the incident.

She smiles back at you.

“I should probably get going. Keep in touch.” She walks over to your side of the table, presses her lips to your cheek before walking out.

“There’s someone better than her?”

You turn at the sudden question from the barista. You can only give her a sharp nod.

——

You wipe the steam from the mirror. Stare at your reflection. Watch as water droplets slide down your face, into the scruff of your beard.

You need to shave.

You open the cupboard below the sink. Take out a razor and the shaving cream. You stand, turn the faucet on to wet your face a bit more.

You hear a whistle. Turning, Sohyun stands by the door. Hair in a high ponytail. Suit jacket discarded, she’s left in a black shirt, black pencil skirt, black stockings.

You exhale loudly. Those damn stockings.

“Wow,” she says, eyeing you like candy. “Hot.”

You scoff. You face the mirror, applying the shaving cream. “Just got back?”

“Uh-huh.” She’s closer now, leaning beside the mirror, watching you. “Have to say… would you consider wearing a Santa Claus outfit? It’s one of my fantasies.”

The blade freezes by your cheek. You would’ve said no without hesitation. Now, you’re actually contemplating hiring one.

She moves until she’s between you and the mirror, pries the blade from your hand. One hand pulls on the skin, the other slowly glides the blade against your skin. “The office. It’s boring now.”

You don’t say anything. Watch the concentration on her face. Only when she washes the blade do you speak.

“What? No one to flirt with? No intern kissing the floor you stand on?”

That annoyed her. She hooks a finger into your mouth, pulls your cheek taut before going over it with the blade. She scowls at you. You’ve long since stopped being afraid of it. Now it’s adorable.

The two of you have been fucking so much, you actually forgot how beautiful she was. Her eyes are focused, calculating. Pale skin contrasting against her dark clothes. Her mouth set in quiet concentration, plump. Perfect for kissing.

“You’re staring.” She finishes. Wipes the blade clean before tossing it into the trash.

You push her into the sink. You move until she’s flush against your skin. She cranes her neck up to see you. You’re more focused on the elegant line of her neck. The way her throat moves as she swallows thickly.

Before you can capture her lips, she presses a finger against your lips.

“Aftershave.”

You lean back, watch her grab the bottle. She pours a generous amount on her hand, spreads it before touching your face.

It burns.

You don’t break eye contact, keeping her hands on your cheek as you kiss her.

When you separate, your towel drops with a soft thud, pooling around you. She looks down, breath hitching at the sight of you, hard and leaking. She grabs you, takes you back into the shower. No care about what happens to her clothes.

——

Despite not working there anymore, you’re still kept in the loop on what’s happening in the office. Text messages from Xinyu to conversations during dinner with Sohyun.

You hear the passcode being entered into your door before opening. Sohyun’s home.

She kicks off her heels, leaves them lying on the floor. Drops her laptop bag by the shoe cabinet before walking toward you. Slow. Exaggerated hip sway. Her eyes never leaving yours.

You watch, mesmerised. Laptop forgotten on your lap. Your throat goes dry as she removes her hair clip. Shakes her hair loose. Soft and wavy. Framing her face in a way that makes you anticipate what she’ll do next. She drags her thumb across her lips, removes the lipstick before darting her tongue out, slowly licking them.

What is she doing to you?

Her hands find the zipper on her skirt, drags it down slow before letting it pool by her feet. You finally see her eyes, a predatory gleam to them. Dark. You can’t look away. Even as she slowly unbuttons her shirt, letting it glide down to the floor. Until she’s left in only her bra and panties. And stockings.

She stops in front of you. Closes your laptop. Tosses it on the far end of the couch. She straddles you, her weight settling on your lap.

“Rough day?”

Her fingers thread through your hair. Your eyes slowly close at the sensation. You feel her fingers move, from your hair to your glasses. She removes them, tossing them away.

She presses her lips to yours before speaking. “Had another interview about the manager. More like an interrogation.”

Another kiss.

“Talked about the incident. About you.”

Another.

“I think they wanted me to pin it all on you.”

You open your eyes then, half lidded. Hers the same, filled with lust.

“Did you?” You ask, voice hoarse.

She shakes her head, more strands fall over her eyes as she leans in again.

“They wish. Xinyu says there’s enough evidence for a full inquiry on him.”

Another kiss. Longer. Slower.

You separate. She whispers into your mouth. “I thought about you all day.”

She grabs your hands. Place one on her waist, the other on her breast. She moves her lips beside yours before biting your earlobe. You groan.

“Thought about your hands. Your mouth. Your—“

You couldn’t help but buck into her. You feel the sharp intake of breath. She’s smiling before biting your earlobe again.

“Sohyun—“

“Shh…” she pulls back, looks at you, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

She kisses you. Hungry. Deep.

You kiss back. Hands moving to her back. Fingertips lightly grazing her spine. She shivers. You feel the bra clasp. Undo it, letting it slide down her arms. She throws it somewhere behind her.

You start travelling lower, pressing your lips against her neck, collarbone before ending at her breasts. You alternate between both, giving extra attention to the nipples.

She moans loudly. Holds your head, keeping it close to her chest. One hand moves down, palms you through your pants.

Eventually, she pushes you off, dives back into your mouth.

You separate, both breathing hard.

“Bedroom?” You ask.

She shakes her head.

“Here. Now.”

She tugs on your shirt incessantly. You pull it off with ease, throwing it somewhere behind her.

She presses her lips on you: neck, shoulder, chest. They’re featherlight. Goosebumps appear on your skin.

She suddenly stands and turns, hooks her fingers into her stockings and pulls them down. Slowly. Ass pointed to you. Her head turns to face you, eyes gesturing to your sweatpants.

You get rid of them quickly, to not miss the show in front of you.

She kicks the stockings off her feet. Stands in front of you in only her underwear.

You move forward. Kiss her hipbone, her stomach, her thighs as you slowly peel them off her. You hear her panting, her hands twisting in your hair.

“No… I need you now.”

She pushes you back, straddling you quickly before lowering herself onto you.

You both groan simultaneously at the feeling.

Neither of you move, content with kissing. Only when the need to breathe becomes important did you separate. Foreheads touching, eyes staring deeply into yours as she starts rocking.

You hold her waist. Let her control the pace.

Her fingers move, gently grazes your jaw as she moans. As loud as she wants.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

The way she sits up, one hand messing with hair. The way she looks down at you, eyes darkening as bites her bottom lip.

She’s losing it. Her rhythm, her voice.

You don’t want it to end.

She’s surprised when you lift, legs locking onto your waist. Her hands cup your face, kisses you desperately.

You turn, placing her onto the couch. She’s on her knees, facing the window, twinkling with lights outside.

You crouch behind her. Enter her slow. She bites her knuckles, eyes squeezed tight.

Only when you’re fully in do you move, matching the same pace as before. Long. Slow. You’re pressed into her back, one hand on her waist, the other just below her neck.

“F—fuck…”

You feel her tears fall onto your arm, hear the way she scratches the back of the couch with both hands. You pull one arm up, intertwine your fingers together as you get closer to release.

She’s louder now. You are too, breathing into her ear. You bite down on her shoulder to stop a loud moan. She pushes back against you, arching her back further.

She turns to face you, face covered in sweat, hair sticking. She captures your lips in a messy kiss as the hand on her waist finds her clit.

“Fuck. F—fuck…”

Her orgasm hits hard, moans muffled by your mouth. Holds onto your intertwined fingers tightly.

You keep going, prolonging her pleasure until you release into her.

You stay like that for what felt like hours. Heart racing. You wait until her breathing’s under control before you move, both of you moaning at the loss.

You sit beside her. She collapses into you before her head falls onto your lap. She looks up. Satisfied. Smiling.

“Feel better?”

“Hmm. Much.”

You smile, threading your fingers through her hair. You watch as she hums, closes her eyes and relax.

——

“Oh shit.”

She’s sitting on the counter in only your dress shirt, swinging her feet as you chop vegetables beside her. She grabs a piece. You open your mouth, still chopping as she places it in. You tease her by gently biting her finger. She slaps you on the shoulder.

“What is it?”

She turns her phone screen toward you. Placing the knife on the chopping board, you walk until you’re between her legs, reading the news article. You ignore the way her breathing stutters as you place your hands on her bare thighs.

“Shit.”

The company has taken a hit. A really bad one. Stocks free falling. The manager that you beat to a pulp at the centre of it all. Selling secrets to competitors. Private chats about the women in the office.

Your hand clenches.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” You let go of her thigh, rubbing where you grabbed it too hard. You don’t notice that you’re caressing her higher than before, still engrossed in the article.

She locks her phone screen, places it on the counter beside her.

“Hey. I was reading that.”

She gently tilts your chin up. “Look at me.”

You meet her eyes. She’s searching your face.

“You okay?”

You exhale. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath.

“I’m—” You stop. Are you okay?

“You were right,” she says softly. “What you did. You were right.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She cups your face. “Because you look like you want to hit him again.”

You laugh. It’s sharp, humourless. “I do.”

She nods. Doesn’t tell you that’s wrong. Doesn’t tell you to let it go.

“All the women he did that to. If I could go back,” you say slowly, “I’d do it again. Harder.”

“I know.”

You rest your forehead against her shoulder. Close your eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not there anymore. That place was poison,” she whispers.

“That place was poison.”

You pull back. Look at her.

“Are you okay? Being there without me?”

She smiles. Small, but real.

“I’m looking for other jobs.”

Your heart skips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kisses you. Quick, soft. “I’m done with that place too.”

——

You play with the collar of your dress shirt. It’s too tight round your neck, you’re suffocating.

“Stop that. She’d kill you if you mess with it.”

You stare at her through her vanity mirror. She puts on the final touches of makeup, checks herself before giving you a wink and kiss in the reflection.

She moves towards you, takes the tie from your hand before helping you with it.

“I still can’t believe she’s getting married.”

“Why? You still have a crush on her?” She pulls your tie too hard, making you splutter.

You had to tap her hand to get her to release.

You cough. “I’m just saying. She left the company same time as you. When was that? Two years ago? And she’s getting married already? Isn’t that too soon?”

She pats your shoulder. “Just be happy for her.” She leaves you standing there, moving to the living room.

You can’t help but stare, wishing she’d wear dresses more often. Thin straps, the hem just barely reaching her knees. The pastel pink colour. Not to mention the headband.

You love her.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

You follow her to the front door. You kneel down, help her with her heels as she holds you for stability. You let your fingers linger on her calf, rising to her thighs before she pushes you off.

“We don’t have time.”

You laugh, putting your shoes on. As soon as you were about to open the door, she stops you.

“Wait.”

She reaches down, pulls her panties down before handing them to you. She smiles and winks at you, gives you a quick kiss before heading out first.

You look at them, eyes wide. You stuff them into your pocket, running after her.

“Are you sure we can’t be late?”

She laughs.

——

“Come on. Show me how to take good photos,” Seoyeon whines.

You can’t help but smile at her, “Your photos are good though.”

“But yours are professional! Please? Pretty please?”

You watch her pout, fluttering her eyelashes at you in the full body mirror.

Both of you are sat on your bedroom floor, her between your outstretched legs, back against your chest. Your arms wrapped loosely around her waist, nose touching the top of her head. Her hair smells amazing, even after a long day at school.

Finally, you relent.

“Alright, alright.”

You let go, one arm reaching for the camera your uncle bought you, resting on the bed. You hand it over to her.

“So what you want to do is…” your hand gently holds hers, guiding it to the lens, “turn this to adjust the focus and this to zoom in.”

You feel her breath hitch as you help her play with your camera, a small smile forming on your face.

“Then when you’re happy, press down here.” Again you guide her fingers to the correct position before pressing down, taking a mirror picture of the pair of you.

“Not too bad,” you say as you both stare at the photo, “you might have a future in photography.”

Her smile widens. “Yeah? Will you be my subject?”

You laugh wholeheartedly before wrapping your arms around her waist again, nuzzling your nose into her neck. “I’d love to.”

“Look.”

You tilt your head upwards as you hear the shutter of the camera.

——

You’re pulled out of your nap when a manila folder is dropped onto your chest.

“What is this?” You open the folder, eyes still closed.

“It’s a job.”

You sit up, the heel of your palm pressing into your eyes, ridding them of sleep. “I can’t take another job right now. Not with the exhibition this close.”

“This will only take a week. Two at most. In fact, this will help with the exhibition.”

You narrow your eyes at your manager, who abruptly turns to avoid facing you. Your eyes return to the contents of the folder, reading them thoroughly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You know how long it took me to negotiate this for you?”

“I never asked for this!”

“We need this exhibition to go well! If it doesn’t, you can say goodbye to this place.”

That shut you up. You sigh, sinking further into the couch.

“You’re fired.” You mutter softly, hands going to your temple, massaging them.

You hear a scoff. “You said that last week. And the week before. I’m still here.”

You don’t have the energy to argue anymore, instead focusing on how to get through this job without losing your mind.

——

It’s simple really. You follow Seoyeon on her holiday on Jeju Island, filming content for her group’s YouTube channel. In return, she participates in a photoshoot with you.

The job isn’t half bad. Filming vlogs without worrying about editing them is a dream. And the island is beautiful, any photoshoot there would instantly have that warm feel to it.

But why does it feel like this is the worst decision you’ve made?

——

You’re scrolling through your phone while sitting in the lounge, waiting to board the flight to Jeju, ignoring the little argument going on in front of you between Seoyeon and her manager. It’s a good thing she has a mask on or paparazzi would have a field day.

It turns out Seoyeon didn’t know you were the one assigned to the job or that it would only be the two of you travelling. To be fair, you weren’t aware of that either. According to the company, “minimal distractions” makes the content more authentic. You have a feeling your manager was involved yet you don’t have enough evidence for that. The shock on her face was so priceless, you wished you had your camera out.

She looks a lot different from the last time you saw her. She’s now sporting bangs, hair now blonde and shorter than you remember it being. Her eyes still have that fiery look in them and you’re grateful they’re not directed at you.

The tannoy suddenly comes to life, indicating the plane was now ready to be boarded. You watch as she sighs in exasperation before moving to stand in front of you. “Let’s go.”

She moves off, leaving you to trail after her. Looking back, you watch her manager bowing profusely, apologising for her behaviour. You wave it away. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“For the record, I didn’t know it was you they’d send,” she says nonchalantly, adjusting the strap of her handbag while avoiding your eyes.

“Did they tell you about the agreement?”

“Yeah. You film me. Then you take photos of me. Right?”

That… pretty much sums it up.

“Do you even know—“

“I don’t really care,” she cuts you off, hand tightly gripping her handbag strap.

Okay. That hurt. The professionalism, the cutting you off mid sentence. Even after all these years, she still manages to hurt you.

A couple of flashes go off to your right: paparazzi and fans. You hear them shouting; ‘Seoyeon over here!’, ‘Seoyeon I love you!’

You look over to see her wave at them, making heart gestures before you board. You see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles at them.

The smiles that were usually only reserved for you.

She turns from the fans, boarding the plane without looking back.

You follow a few steps behind.

——

You’re shuffling along the aisle before arriving at your seats. Seoyeon moves to lift her carry-on into the overhead compartment—until you put your bag there first. For a moment, she looks at you in shock before glaring daggers.

You scoff. Your hand reaches for her carry on, fingers brushing against hers. You try to pull it up into the overhead compartment but she doesn’t let go. You sigh before slapping her hand away. She recoils grabbing her hand with the other, allowing you store her bag.

You sit down on the aisle seat and immediately secure yourself tightly with the seatbelt. Your hands move to the safety instructions, reading it two, three times.

Seoyeon glances at you from her window seat. “Are you serious?”

“What? I don’t like flying.”

She continues to stare at you while you listen to the safety briefing. You’ve grown taller, hair a bit longer and your skin looks healthier; no more acne or blemishes marring your face.

Soon enough, the plane begins to take off. As it begins to lift, you grip the armrest hard. Except her hand is there instead.

Your fingers tighten before you realise.

She glances at you, only to see your eyes closed, back straight. “You’re okay,” she softly says.

You cautiously open your eyes, slowly relaxing as the plane levels out. “Th—thanks.”

She hums in response, prying her hand from yours—her fingers lingering on yours for a second—before putting her headphones on and stares out the window.

You look out the window too, seeing the clouds rolling by. Sunlight enters through the window, basking Seoyeon in a soft glow. She closes her eyes in the warmth, a smile breaking out.

This would make a good photo.

——

Soon enough, you land safely at Jeju. But before you can escape the plane, she stops you with a hand on your arm. You pause at the contact before turning back.

“We need to film something.”

“What? Now?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just me talking about going to Jeju and of me leaving the plane.”

You huff before getting up, bowing apologetically when you accidentally bump into someone. You take the camera out of your bag and start filming.

You watch as her idol persona comes to life. Her face seems to brighten when she talks to the camera like a friend. You had to turn away when she starts acting cute, puffing her cheeks, tilting her head and staring into the lens, fluttering her eyelashes.

It reminds you of how she used to act back then. How it was reserved only for you.

Now everyone can see.

Your chest aches at the thought.

You continue to film: her taking her bag out of the overhead compartment, walking off the plane to a shop to buy travel essentials. She continues talking to the camera and occasionally asks you for your opinion.

“Do you think this hat suits me?” She asks, twirling in place.

You’re not sure if she’s asking the camera or you. Either way, you keep the thoughts to yourself.

She goes ahead and buys it anyway.

“You can stop now.”

You end the recording and hang the camera around your neck. You’re already tired.

“Is it always like this?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Sometimes. It gets easier when you’ve done it a thousand times.”

Both of you walk to the rental car place, enough distance between so that your shoulders don’t touch. You steal small glances at her as you walk side by side.

“It suits you.”

“Hmm?” She’s not really paying attention.

“Being an idol suits you.”

Her gait stutters for a moment. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Thanks,” she says, eyes avoiding yours.

——

The restaurant she chooses is small and family owned, miles away from the regular tourist spots. The scent of the ocean drifts in through the open windows, the noise from an aging electric fan prominent.

You watch how she angles the camera to capture her, how she shows the menu to the camera followed by ordering food for both her and yourself.

You pull your own camera out from its bag and capture the moment: her making faces into her camera.

She looks up as soon as she hears the shutter.

“What was that?”

You shrug, “Something for the exhibition.”

Seoyeon tilts her head in confusion, “The exhibition?”

“The photoshoot? It’s for an exhibition I’m a part of.” You elaborate further, “Apparently, my current work is no good and I have to go back to my roots.”

It doesn’t take long for her to piece the puzzles together. Going back to roots means going back to the type of photos that won the awards.

Going back to where she was in the photos.

Her chopsticks stop moving, hovering over her plate.

“You think it’ll work?” She mutters softly, slightly glancing towards you.

A wry smile etches itself on your face. You lean forward, arms crossed atop the table. “Who knows?”

The main dish arrives, interrupting the conversation. You grab a bowl and immediately fill it with stew before placing it on her side of the table.

She pauses for a moment, looking down at the bowl before glancing back at you. She opens her mouth to say something, only to close it and start eating without another word.

——

The hotel room is quiet when the door closes behind you.

Too quiet.

You kick your shoes off at the entrance before laying on the bed, camera bag next to you. You aimlessly stare at the ceiling, listening to the crash of waves outside the window.

You reach for the bag, pulling out your camera and scrolling through photos you took earlier—the ocean and flower fields you passed on the drive.

You stop at the photo in the restaurant. Of Seoyeon making faces at the camera and the look on her face when she was caught.

It reminds you of your first photo.

——

You’re sat on a hill, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair. Your school tie hangs loosely around your neck, the top few buttons undone.

You continue to fiddle with the camera you received from the photography club, trying to figure out how to work it.

You didn’t want to join any club. Unfortunately, the school counsellor thought you needed something else to do besides roaming the streets after school. You could’ve joined a different club but photography was so popular, you figured you could keep a low profile here. How wrong were you.

You finally get it to work and you look through the lens, making any adjustments to the exposure or focus you saw fit. You look around your surroundings, trying to find something to snap a photo of when you saw her.

Her hair was in a bun, blazer around her waist as she runs around with her friend. You zoom in and see her cheeks red from running around, how she breathes heavily.

You thought she was the most beautiful person here.

Suddenly, she looks over and sees the camera pointed at her. You freeze. Before you put the camera down and look away, she poses for you. She stands straight, cheeks puffed out and a peace sign by her eyes.

You snap a couple of photos then you look down to examine them.

“Hey, can I see?”

You look up, startled.

“H—huh?”

“The photos. Can I see them?”

Before you could say anything, she sat down next to you, peering at the camera. She leans in closer, to shield the screen from the sun.

You feel your heart beat faster in your ears as she looks at the photos, her scent filling your nose.

“Wow, these are really good!” She turns to you with a wide smile. She calls your name, dragging you away from your thoughts.

“H—how do you know my name?”

She laughs loudly. “It says so here.” She pokes at your name tag on your chest.

You blush in embarrassment. “What’s your name?”

She proudly shows you her own name tag. “Yoon Seoyeon.”

Her friend calls her over before you had a chance to say anything else.

“See you later.” She waves before making her way back down to her friend.

You look down at the photos.

Maybe photography isn’t so bad.

——

Your phone buzzes beside you, pulling you out of the memory. You set the camera down and reach for it.

A text message from Seoyeon.

It’s the itinerary for the next couple of days. You scroll through it: a cafe visit, fruit picking, the beach and dozens of activities she’s planned. You doubt you have enough time to complete all this but if there’s one thing you know about Seoyeon, is that she never sits still for long.

Another message. This time a voice note. “We’re starting at the cafe. Don’t be late.”

——

“Can I get two Iced Americanos? And two croissants?”

Seoyeon moves to pay, only for you to walk ahead and tap your card to the reader before she did.

“Yah!”

You ignore her whining and accept the receipt from the barista. You walk off, finding a table by a window overlooking the farm. When she arrives, you pull out her chair before sitting down yourself.

You pull the video camera from its bag and begin recording. You film a stationary shot of the farm from your seat before panning over to her. She’s glaring at you.

“Why? Why did you pay?”

You shrug and point to the camera.

She looks down and goes back to her idol persona. She mentions her plans for the day, what cafe she’s at, what she’s drinking. She even asks questions meant for her fans—answers she’ll never hear.

You watch as she continues to talk, random murmurings now, until your drinks arrive. She gently claps as the barista sets it down, a look of wonder as she stares at the croissants.

You can’t help but smile.

After a few more minutes, she taps the plate in front of you. “Put it down and eat.” She says, pointing a knife at you.

You relent, placing the video camera on the table and angling it towards her before you start eating.

It’s nice. Though not nice enough to hum in approval after every bite like she does.

You grab your personal camera from around your neck, snapping a photo of her drinking her coffee. Her eyes squinting at the bitter taste, her cheeks slightly puffy.

“At least tell me when you take a picture,” she mutters. “I should at least pose or something.”

“It’s better like this,” you respond, “you’re prettier when you’re unguarded.”

The pair of you freeze. You don’t know why you said that. Seoyeon’s eyes widen slightly and for a moment, something soft flashes across her face—something that looks dangerously close to how she used to look at you. She blinks and it disappears.

You drop your camera, your head tilting forward at its weight and grab your own coffee. You drink far too quickly as you begin coughing.

Seoyeon hands you a packet of tissues with a warm smile on her face, her eyes holding concern. “Careful. Careful.”

You give her a thumbs up as you continue to cough, now into a tissue. You remove the camera from around your neck and walk quickly to the bathroom.

She watches as you leave, a look of worry marring her face, her mouth slightly parted.

As she waits for you to return, she notices your camera. She grabs it, looking through your recent photos. Your photos of her.

——

“Okay… maybe you could… tilt your head slightly? Maybe have both arms behind your back?”

You’re sweating a lot more than you’re used to. This is your first photoshoot and you couldn’t believe Seoyeon agreed to participate. You remember how clammy your hands were when you walked up to her friend group to ask her. How her friends stared you down like an insect. You were such a stuttering mess, you actually can’t remember if you actually asked her or she volunteered herself.

“Like this?”

“Huh? Ye—yeah,” you respond. You snapped a couple of photos then went to the computer to examine.

Something’s wrong. It’s not what you’ve envisioned. You can’t seem to get the photo right. Your head drops between your shoulders as you sigh.

Seoyeon walks over, jumping on the desk behind, swinging her legs. She watches your defeated frame from behind, her eyes softening after hearing the sigh escape your lips.

“They look good.” She reassures.

You shake your head profusely, “No. Something’s missing. I don’t know what.”

“Maybe you just need a break.”

You sigh again. The local photography studio were generous enough to lend some equipment for the club: the camera, lighting and the backdrop. Except now they need it back by tomorrow. This was your last chance.

The silence is heavy as you contemplate what to do next. Suddenly, you hear her feet landing on the floor before you feel her arm loop through yours.

“Come on.”

She drags you without explanation outside the classroom, grabbing your personal camera before you had time to resist.

“W—where are we going?”

“To the festival.”

Right. You forgot there was a school festival going on right now. You have no idea what for but it’s happening now.

After entering the festival, she makes a beeline to a game tent.

“Win that for me,” she points at a giant stuffed bear.

You decide to just go with it, paying the employee for a chance to win the prize. You sucked. None of the balls stay in the buckets. You try three more times, but your concentration falters when you hear her laugh and the shutter from your camera. She’s taking photos of you with it.

“Alright, alright. Ball throwing isn’t your thing. Let’s go!” She drags you somewhere else but instead of an arm through yours, her hand holds yours firmly. You swallow and hope that your hand isn’t too sweaty.

As you walk past various stalls, she stops at one selling animal headbands. She hands over your camera before picking one out. Walking over, she gestures for you to lower your head before placing it on you. “Ha. Cute!”

Your ears turn slightly pink at the compliment. Seoyeon turns around before grabbing one for herself—a headband with dog ears. She looks at the mirror, adjusting it on herself before turning to face you.

You raise the camera without thinking and take a photo.

“Wh—I wasn’t ready!”

A soft smile forms on your lips as you continue to snap photos.

She laughs without care, eyes crinkling at the corner, mouth open wide, cheeks lifted high.

The two of you move through the festival stalls, trying every game you can. You take photos of her every chance you get. The frown when she fails to win a prize, the way her eyes brighten when she spots a new game, and the laughter as she drags you from stall to stall.

“Let’s try that one!” She drags you to another game. It’s simple. Shoot down a duck, win a prize. She grabs a toy rifle from the stall before aiming at you, making gunfire noises.

You smile again, ignoring your fluttering heart.

She plays the game. And fails. Again and again. She’s losing money faster at this stupid game than the others, her fierce competitiveness burning. You need to stop her before she blows all her money away.

When she fails again, you step forward, preventing the stall owner from taking more from her. “Let me try.”

Seoyeon blinks at you in surprise.

You’ve never stepped in like that before, not even during the photoshoot.

You take aim and shoot. One pellet misses, another bounces off the duck. You stop, trying to figure out the game before you take aim again. You shoot. And the duck falls.

The stall goes quiet for a moment until you hear a cry of happiness behind you. Seoyeon jumps on you, wrapping her arms around your neck, celebrating this very important victory of yours. Your arms naturally surround her waist.

You gently let her down, staring into her eyes as the owner asks what prize you want. You don’t bother looking away just pointing at a toy nearby. The stall owner hands over a stuffed hamster toy. You take it without looking away from her and place it in her hands. When she looks down at the toy, the moment breaks. She squeals in happiness, hugging it tightly against her cheeks.

You grab the camera from around your neck.

Click.

This time she’s smiling directly at it.

Her eyes stay on the toy as you move on from the stall. You place your hands gently on her shoulders, guiding her through the busy crowd. You glance down to see her phone out, taking photos of the toy.

You notice her friends hanging by the food stalls. You tap her shoulder, about to point them out, but she suddenly drags you toward a nearby photo booth.

“Y—your friends are here,” you say as you stumble after her.

She looks back at you, “They can survive without me. I want to do this with you.”

You’re about to ask why before she interrupts you.

“You can’t always be behind the camera.”

Inside the booth, you’re not quite sure what to do. As the timer goes down, you feel awkward. Do you pose? Do you smile? Before you spiral any further, Seoyeon hugs one of your arms, her other hand making a peace sign, reminiscent of the first pose she did for you.

“Relax, this is just for fun!” She says loudly.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You start posing for the camera—a peace sign, a heart sign. Eventually, you start to get into it. You grab two pairs of sunglasses, standing back to back.

In another, the two of you are close to the camera.

But you aren’t looking at it.

You’re looking at her.

——

Seoyeon’s fingers tremble as she looks at the photo strip, absentmindedly grazing your features in the photos. She won’t admit it but the last one is her favourite—where your eyes are only on her.

For a moment, it feels like the noise from the festival still surrounds her.

When she hears the bathroom door open and you step out, she hurriedly stashes the strip back into her handbag.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice. You avoid her eyes as you sit down opposite her, cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment. You notice the camera was not where you left it and how distracted she seems. Her eyes are on the farm outside, one hand gripping her coffee cup but the other tapping away at the table.

The silence stretches between you. You’re replaying what you said over and over in your head. A headache begins to form. Your heart starts racing.

You need to break the silence with something. An apology?

That’s stupid.

Who apologises for calling someone pretty?

You sigh quietly.

There’s that word again.

The silence stretches longer except for the tapping of her fingers against the table as you watch the ice melt into your coffee.

You risk a glance towards her. She’s still staring out at the farm, but her jaw is tight, finger still tapping against the table.

A red light in your peripheral catches your attention. The video camera. You’re suddenly reminded that you’re here to work, to be professional, to not act like the ex with unresolved tension.

You clear your throat, startling her from her thoughts. “Shall we move to the orchards?” you ask.

She blinks at you in surprise before nodding. Grabbing the video camera, she’s already halfway out the cafe before you rise from your seat. You neatly pile the dishes and cups on a tray before following her out the door.

——

The orchards were… uneventful.

Seoyeon wanted to film the picking as a vlog, immediately walking off without so much of a glance back.

You’re not sure if she’s avoiding you or giving you space.

You stand awkwardly at the entrance, unsure what to do now. Grabbing a basket and tools, you end up doing your own tangerine picking. It’s better to do something to occupy the mind anyway.

Before long, the basket’s filled to the brim. You lay down on the ground, exhausted, wiping sweat from your brow. The sun is high above, leaving no shade from its harsh warmth.

You get up, ready to head back to get a drink—for both you and Seoyeon—when you notice it. The way the sunlight shines on the orchard. The tangerines against the green leaves make the landscape impossible to ignore, you have to take a photo.

Just as you lift the camera, Seoyeon walks into frame, hair slightly damp from the exertion of lugging a basket filled with tangerines. She’s talking to the video camera, breathing heavily, cheeks pink from the sun.

Click.

You capture a photo of her.

You meet her halfway, reaching for her basket. She pulls back slightly—an instinct—before letting you take it. The two of you walk out the orchards together, the weight of something more than tangerines hanging between you.

“Did you take another photo of me?” she asks, looking up at you with round eyes.

Your ears turn red as you look in the opposite direction. “…Maybe.”

She narrows her eyes. “Let me see.”

——

You’re sat on a table outside a convenience store, staring at the ocean, mindlessly eating an ice cream. The sun has started to set, casting the sky in a soft orange glow. A pile of tangerine peels sit between you and Seoyeon, also mindlessly eating an ice cream watching the ocean.

“Shit.”

You look over as Seoyeon spills some of her ice cream onto the floor. Unconsciously, you hand a tissue over to her. She grabs it without looking, wiping her hand of the sticky mess.

She stops mid-wipe. Her eyes flick to you then quickly away.

This scene feels strangely familiar to you.

——

“Do you think aliens exist?”

You look up to the sky, the stars shining brightly against the dark backdrop. You take a bite of your ice cream before answering. “Maybe?”

“It’s pretty here.”

You can only hum in response. The whole class is on a field trip to a rural town just outside Seoul. The two of you are supposed to be in your rooms but when she calls to say she’s hungry, well, that’s how you find yourself out past curfew, staring at the stars.

She has her head in your lap, your blazer draped over her legs as you sit in comfortable silence. You stare down at her as she continues watching the sky, memorising all her features—the little mole on her nose, her cheekbones, her dark eyes. Right now, you’re struggling not to touch her.

Your pulse thrums in your ears, a frantic rhythm that seems way too loud. It’s been happening a lot lately, not that you’d admit it. Nor would you admit to your excitement at seeing her. Or your nervousness when she gets a bit too close. Like right now.

You feel a slight tug on your loosened tie. You look down and see the prettiest smile on her face, her eyes creasing at the corners.

“How long are you going to keep staring at me?” she teases.

“Uh…” you don’t know what to say, your ears tinging red and your throat suddenly feels really dry.

She laughs before you get a word out.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll think you might like me.” she banters, laughing uncontrollably, eyes shut.

The words slip out before you can stop them.

“I do,” your face burns red at your sudden confession, “I—I do like you.”

Seoyeon’s laughter immediately stops, her eyes wide and frozen in shock. She sits up quickly, narrowly avoiding your nose to look at you.

“Wh—what?”

“I li—like you,” you start rambling, your brain no longer in control of your mouth. “I think... since the festival? And I know—I mean, you don't have to—I just don't want things to be weird—“

The sound of cicadas seem to cut out all at once when you feel a soft pair of lips press against yours.

You stare at her face, stunned, as it turns bright red, eyes looking anywhere but at you, hands playing with your blazer.

“Seoyeon, you—“

She kisses you again, this time firmer, her eyes squeezed shut. Eventually, your eyes close too, your hand slowly travelling up to hold her cheek. She needed to hold onto something, gripping your tie tightly, pulling you even closer.

You only separate when the need to breathe becomes too much. Her chest rises and falls rapidly like yours. Both of your faces have turned red, the air around you suddenly warmer than you remember.

You whisper, voice rough, “Does this mean—“

She nods her head, an affectionate smile gracing her face, one that you replicate.

You gaze into her eyes and you feel like you can look into them forever.

——

You snap out the memory to the sound of her laughter, your fingers unknowingly at your lips. You drop them to your side, immediately clenching your hand into a fist.

Seoyeon’s no longer beside you. You look around to find her crouched down in front of a stray cat, a stick in hand. She moves it around in the dirt, laughing as the cat chases after it.

This is different from the other times. There’s no camera in front of her. She’s not acting or aware of a camera pointed at her. This is her at her freest.

You move to grab your camera only to retract it at the last second. It’s perfect. The background, the subject but you don’t want to capture it.

Your chest tightens at the thought. You don’t like where this is going.

She finally looks up at you, a bit of dirt on her face. “Hey, I was thinking…” she pauses, distracted by the cat, “maybe tomorrow we don’t film anything.”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“I mean… you came here to photograph me right? Let’s do it. No filming, just photos.”

You hesitate before answering, “Why?”

A soft smile appears, directed at the cat, “Why not?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Because I want to help you? Or maybe I want a day where I don’t film? Which do you prefer?” She asks, turning towards you.

You briefly forgot how to breathe, the setting sun casting her in a warm glow. She almost doesn’t look real.

You feel your throat closing, “S—sure.”

She gives you a smile before returning her attention to the cat now on its back. The same smile you remember back in high school.

You’re in trouble.

——

You’re sat waiting in the lobby, knees bouncing, fingers fiddling with the zippers of your backpack. Inside is full of essentials: portable lighting, spare batteries, blankets, snacks. You might’ve packed too much but you never know what’ll happen. The early morning sunlight comes through the wide windows, casting the place in a warm, yellow glow. A few guests walk by, chattering around you easily, making their way to the hotel buffet.

You could barely sleep last night, memories of the convenience store—both yesterday and from years ago—never left your mind. So instead of sleeping, you decided to build an itinerary of places to go. Except, you never got past the first bullet point: the beach. You typed it out and just… stared at it. Stared at the cursor blinking. Nothing else coming to mind. You hate how much she still affects you, how she still preoccupies your mind enough that you spent all night watching her content online—the variety shows, fan compilations, when she was first introduced to the world.

You just hope she doesn’t comment on the bags underneath your eyes.

“Have you slept at all?”

Your head snaps up. She stands close enough that you have to tilt your head to look at her face.

Your mouth goes dry.

The morning light catches her—the pale blue sun dress, light and simple, moving slightly in the air conditioning. Her hair is down, soft and wavy, falling past her shoulders, held back by a white headband exposing her beautiful features with little makeup on. Her colour contacts are gone too. Her hands are clasped in front of her, fingers twisting together.

You can’t help but stare at her. For a brief moment, you see something in her expression. You’re not sure what.

You stand up too quickly, the bag on your lap falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Hotel workers and visitors look towards the commotion but you don’t pay any attention to them. “Wh—what?”

Her features soften, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I said… have you slept at all?”

“Yes… maybe… not too much actually.” You chuckle halfheartedly. Your hand goes behind your neck, rubbing it, your face feels like it’s burning right now.

A small sound escapes her lips—a laugh that she quickly stops. The two of you just stand there, eyes only on each other, the stares of hotel workers and visitors no longer important to you. Or to her.

But after a moment, it becomes too much. She breaks eye contact first, her gaze drifting from your eyes to your shoulders to the window behind you. She takes a small step back and you watch as she finally takes a breath.

“Shall we get breakfast?” Seoyeon asks after a moment, after she’s composed herself enough to look back up at you, her eyes now in a sort of crescent shape, features bright, like she’s happy she can still get this reaction out of you.

“Y—yeah. Sounds good.” You point to the direction of the hotel buffet before bending down to grab the backpack, following after her.

——

You wait at the table, looking at your phone except there’s nothing on it. You glance towards the coffee station and watch Seoyeon wait for the coffee machine. Every so often, you catch yourself staring and immediately avert your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. But your eyes don’t stay averted for long, always finding their way back to her.

When she returns to the table, it’s your turn to get up and move to the buffet line, grabbing anything that looks tasty, and doing your best to avoid looking back. Just as you reach the end, out of the corner of your eye, you swear she was looking at you only to quickly turn back to her phone. You sigh. This is going to be a long day if you keep this up.

You return to the table with an assortment of bread and food from the continental breakfast section. As you sit down, you immediately plate the food for her before sliding it over. She nervously smiles at you before digging in.

You both eat in quiet, the silence thick but comfortable.

“Can I see the itinerary?” She asks, mouth still full with food. You open the page on your phone before handing it over. “Uh… there’s only one thing here. The beach.”

You freeze, eyes wide.

Fuck.

You forgot about that.

“Y—yeah. I couldn’t… didn’t….” You shift uncomfortably in your seat before sighing. “I got distracted last night… watching your content.” You admit, ears turning red. You’ve noticed that’s been happening a lot lately.

“You watched my content?” She asks in disbelief, her eyes wide at the sudden confession.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You already made it weird.” She teases, smiling brightly as she watches your reaction. A beat later, “What did you watch?”

You take a second, chewing through your food, “Badge wars,” you say before adding, “I forgot how competitive you are.”

She stays silent, unsure what to say, whether she should be embarrassed you saw that side of her again, or flattered that you’re watching. Her hands grip the coffee cup tightly as she brings it towards her lips, staying there for a moment before taking a sip. “I’m not that bad… when was I that competitive?” She whispers, mouth covered by the rim of the mug, eyes looking down at the coffee.

You look at the ceiling, pondering. “Remember the school festival? And how much money I spent on the games for you?”

Of course she remembers the festival. She still has the photo strip tucked away in her bag, the hamster you won displayed proudly on her bed in the dorms. Not that she’ll tell you any of that. “I—I didn’t think you minded.”

“I didn’t. I’m glad I spent the money…” your sentence peters out, not sure if you should say it. “If it meant spending more time with you.” You whisper the last part, not looking at her but she caught it. Her eyes return to the table, her face a soft shade of red.

The rest of breakfast was slow and quiet, a heavy, charged silence falls between you. You shouldn’t have said that. You made a promise to yourself—about her, about distance.

You’re breaking it.

It doesn’t feel wrong though.

——

“Just walk along the beach. I’ll be a couple steps behind, taking photos.”

Seoyeon puffs her cheeks out, raising two fingers in salute before turning around.

The early sun bathes the beach in a radiant glow, great for a photoshoot. You managed to find a quiet section, away from the early morning crowds. It’s just the two of you.

You hope she doesn’t read into it.

You take a deep breath, bringing your professionalism back. The setting, Seoyeon, all of it is perfect. All you need to do now is capture it.

“Go ahead.”

Seoyeon begins walking down the waterline, and you follow a few paces behind, camera raised. Click. She’s the subject. Professional.

Except she stops, and wiggles her toes in the sand. You catch it without thinking. Click. When she looks up and faces the sea breeze, hair fluttering like a veil behind her. Click. The way she closes her eyes to enjoy the sunshine.

Click. Click.

How the photo looks is the last thing on your mind now. Instead, you watch as she soaks up the rays, how she flinches then smiles when a wave crashes nearby, splashing her with saltwater.

You lower the camera and you just watch her. She’s moving again, this time closer to the water, her dress billowing in the wind. She bends down, hand splashing around in the water. The breeze blows particularly hard, messing up her hair and dislodging the hair band.

You move to adjust it, only to freeze when she does it herself. She tucks her hair behind her ears before turning to face. “Yah! You’re supposed to taking photos!” She points at you, a mock scowl on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes.

You immediately put your eye through the viewfinder, snapping a photo.

She stands again, looking out to the ocean. She takes a deep breath and watch as her shoulders relax.

Click.

You’re not taking photos for the exhibition anymore. You’re taking them because you can’t help it. You finally understand what your manager meant. That feeling you get when you photograph her.

She stops and turns.

A breeze picks up—gentle and perfectly timed—and her hair lifts slightly. She tucks a strand behind her ear and smiles.

At you.

Click. Click.

You see everything through the lens: the slight tilt in her head, how her fingers linger around her ear, and the softness in her eyes as they crinkle around the corners.

Your breath catches.

You lower your camera slowly.

She’s still smiling at you.

That smile. You remember it vividly.

——

“Ta-da!”

You tilt your head in confusion, unsure how to react. Her hands are outstretched to the side like she’s presenting a prize to reveal… a bicycle. A blue, slightly rusty bicycle with a basket in front. “Uh… what is it?”

“It’s a bike,” she says, pouting.

“I know it’s a bike. But why is it here?”

“Because I rented it,” she says, gesturing vaguely to a bike rental nearby before walking up behind you, loosely wrapping her arms around your torso, her chin just barely hooking over your shoulder even on her tiptoes, “and you’re going to give me a ride.”

You place a hand over hers. Before—back when you took that impromptu photo—you would’ve been a stuttering, flustered mess with how close she is. Now, you can hide it better.

Mostly.

“Why?”

“Because… it’s nice and fun and I see it all the time in those movies and shows.”

You look over to her, chin still on your shoulder, squishing her cheeks. “You want that movie moment?”

She nods—tries to anyway—enthusiastically, squeezing your torso a bit more.

How can you say no to that? Still, you act like you’re pondering the idea. From the corner of your eye, you see her face dissolve from enthusiasm to nervousness before ending your playful torture. “Alright, let’s do it,” you say, smiling brightly.

“What the hell?” She whines, hitting you on your back with no force in it.

Seoyeon moves towards the bike before your hand on her shoulder stops her. “Here. It’s going to get cold.” You unzip your grey hoodie, draping it over her and zipping it up. You playfully tug the hoodie over her head before stepping back. She looks adorable, her figure engulfed by it, her hands covered by the sleeves, the hoodie falling to about mid thigh.

“Come on then,” you say, already moving toward the bike. You turn around only to see her frozen in place. Her hands come up to remove the hood and fix her hair before she quietly inhales your scent.

“Seoyeon,” you say, this time louder, catching her off guard. Your chest tightens at the sight, but you don’t say anything.

She hurries over as you steady the bike with one hand before gently lifting her onto the seat.

“Hold on tight,” you tell her, feeling her arms snake around your torso. You push off, and she squeals—half laugh, half surprise—as the bike wobbles before settling.

You gently navigate your way through the park, pass by other couples, families, and street vendors. Her laughter rings in your ears at the many turns you take to avoid others. Soon, you hit your stride, going at a steady pace, enjoying the view and your girlfriend pressed against you. It’s been a while since you’ve relaxed like this. And it’s all thanks to her.

Neither of you say anything, even as you start riding along the Han river. You feel her hold on you tighten and the weight of her head on your back. You think she’s closed her eyes but you can’t be sure. One hand leaves the handlebars, gently covering hers as you continue pedalling, watching as older couples take one look at the both of you and gush—like they know what you have. You feel one of her hands loosen and intertwine itself with yours.

You continue to ride, no destination in mind until the sun starts setting. You pull over near the water, feet finding the ground. The bike steadies, but she doesn’t let go. Doesn’t lift her head. She stays there, breathing against your back, hand still in yours. You let her stay like this for a while.

You look out into the river—small ripples, reflected sunlight. You wish you had your camera.

Eventually, she lifts her head, watching the same scene as you. Her fingers tighten against yours as you caress hers with your thumb. She leans up and presses her lips gently on your cheek.

——

“Do they look good?”

You blink, pulled from memory. You tilt your head all the way back to see her standing above you, a small smile on her face as her hair acts as curtains surrounding you. You’re outside a convenience store where you’ve stopped to rest after the photoshoot.

Seoyeon drops down, sitting next to you before handing you a bottle of water you take gratefully. You hand her the camera, letting her peruse the photos. “Let me know if there are any you don’t like. I won’t use them,” you say, opening both bottles before downing half of yours.

You don’t watch as she scrolls through the photos. You can’t. Instead, your eyes return to the beach—to the odd couple walking along, side by side, then to the occasional influencer taking selfies along the waterline. You look at anything if it means you don’t see her reaction. But that doesn’t mean you can’t hear her little hums as she looks through them. You’re not sure if they’re hums of approval or not.

You hear the quiet click of the camera as she moves through the photos. You feel your heart beat faster the longer it goes on.

“These are…”

You look over and see that she’s stopped at the photo where she turned, hand by her ears.

Your breath catches.

“They’re really good,” she whispers, still looking at her photo before turning to face you, her cheeks tinged pink. She watches you avoiding her gaze, one hand fidgeting against your knee, the other gripping the water bottle with more force than necessary.

She hands the camera over to you carefully, making sure you have a hold of it before letting go. “So… where next?”

That’s a good question. You’re not too sure yourself. “Uh…”

“The lady in the convenience store watched our little photoshoot. Recommended a vinyl music shop not far from here. Want to check it out?”

“Sure,” you say, moving to stand. You lend her your hand. She hesitates before taking it, fingers warm against yours, holding onto you for a moment longer than necessary before dusting the sand off her dress. “Lead the way.”

——

The journey to the shop was a lot longer than either of you anticipated, further inland and away from the tourist spots. Still it gave you a lot of opportunities to photograph things you wouldn’t otherwise. A lone tree providing shade along the path, fields where farmers work, a house that you rarely see in Seoul.

When you arrive, you’re greeted by its elderly owner. You bow in greeting before walking further in. It’s small—cosy is the better word for it—but feels lived in, like there’s history inside the walls. The shelves are full of vinyl records and books, boxes of these also lie along the floor. Record players sit in the back with headphones hanging above them. You even find a cat lounging on a stack of vinyl staring at you.

High windows stream the sunlight in, giving the place a unique look. Further in, you see a small alcove with chairs and mats, a perfect place to read and listen to music. You flip a nearby switch, illuminating the area with small fairy lights hanging above.

You turn to Seoyeon, only for her to not be there. Looks like she’s engrossed in conversation with the owner about this place. You watch her features and the expressions she makes talking. Lifting the viewfinder to your eye, you snap a couple photos through the shelves.

Click. Click.

The owner notices you first, telling her that you’re taking her photo. She turns to find you and poses for you, even asking the owner to pose with her. You let out a small chuckle before snapping a photo of both of them.

She moves towards you then, eyes on the floor as she approaches, like she’s about to tell you a secret. “Apparently, he’s owned this place for almost 50 years and that this is his personal collection of records,” she explains, walking into the alcove, hand brushing the back of a rocking chair. “Not many people come here now. He was really happy when we entered,” she pauses before looking at you. “He wants to ask a favour from you.”

You lower the camera, letting it rest against your chest.

“He wants you to take pictures of this place… before he forgets.”

The answer was obvious though you don’t voice it. She looks almost melancholy at the thought of the owner forgetting about this place. Almost as if she knows exactly what it feels like to lose something precious.

You don’t want to think about it. Not now.

You turn to the owner and nod. His face breaks into a relieved smile and immediately hobbles over to you. He grabs hold of your hand, thanking you profusely and you can’t help but smile. Eventually, he slowly moves back, gesturing for you to follow him.

Seoyeon looks on fondly as the owner shows you what he wants memories of. She stands there, unsure what to do before moving into the alcove to sit on the rocking chair, watching you.

After finishing your conversation with the owner and watching him leave, you raise your camera to get to work.

You start with the wide shots—the slightly crooked sign above the entrance of the shop, the shelves of records that stretch far into the shadows, the proudly displayed vinyl covers behind the counter. Then you move closer: the worn spines of books, the cat reclining under the sunlight falling through the high windows, the various records lying in the boxes.

You feel her watching you, know she hasn’t taken her eyes off you but you focus on your work. On what matters right now.

The record player and its spinning turnstile, the weathered headphones hanging above. You move and capture a photo of the fairy lights in the alcove, the cushions littering the mats.

You move through the place carefully. Each shot deliberate. You want to preserve everything you can, make the memories tangible.

You lower the camera, looking for your next inspiration. Seoyeon still watches you, an expression on her face you can’t quite name.

“Is something on my face?” You joke.

She shakes her head, a small smile gracing her face. “No… I forgot what you look like when you work.”

“How I look?”

She nods, “You do this thing with your lips. Curl them into your mouth like this,” she says, demonstrating what you do, “and that expression on your face… like nothing else matters but the photo. It’s nice to see,” she softly whispers that last part, but you still hear it.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t, instead holding her gaze. “You should look for something to listen to. It would be good to have memories of someone enjoying this place,” you say quietly.

She nods, slowly standing from the rocking chair and moving to the records but not before walking in front of you, gently squeezing your arm. You don’t need to ask what that means.

Thank you. For doing this for him.

You continue to watch her as she moves through the place, looking for that perfect song to fill the shop. There’s an ache in your chest when you watch her, one you’re trying to ignore. You raise the camera again.

Click.

You see her face light up when she finds a record before moving swiftly to the record player, removing it from its sleeve and playing it. She reaches for the headphones, carefully putting them on. Her eyes close as she listens, hands still over the ear cups as she gently sways to the song.

You still watch her through the viewfinder, unable to take another photo, and watch how the sunlight shines on her like a spotlight, how the specks of dust dance around her. You love her like this. When she didn’t have a care in the world. When she was yours.

She slowly opens her eyes and turns to face you, a smile forming on her face that reaches her eyes. She beckons you closer and you can’t help but move forward. She takes the headphones off, rises to her tiptoes and places them on you. She’s really close now. Like a breath away.

For a moment, you don’t recognise the song. Until you do. And it takes you back.

——

The music plays softly in your room, a welcome addition to atmosphere. You’re sat at your desk, working on edits for your latest portfolio showcase. You raise your glasses before rubbing your eyes. You’ve sat here for a while, feel your back ache as you sit up, your neck sore.

You hear her feet padding across your carpeted floor before her arms snake around you. She’s wearing the same hoodie from the bike ride, this time with the hood on. She lays her head on yours, nuzzling into you. “You should take a break. You’ve been at this for hours.”

You sigh, visibly relaxing in her hold. “If I was going to take a break, it would be to take you home. Do you know how late it—OW!” You yelp, feeling her pinch your side.

“Not funny.”

When you told her your aunt and uncle would be away this weekend, you didn’t expect to see her standing outside your door, duffel bag in hand (the bag was more unexpected than her being here, what with the amount of clothes she steals from you). Apparently, she told her parents she was staying with a friend, studying for a made up exam.

She moves to walk away only for you to grab her arms, keeping them on you. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you say, moving her hand to your lips, a ghost of a smile still there.

“What song is this?”

“You like it?” You hum in approval. “My homeroom teacher played it a while ago; took me ages to find it on Spotify,” you pause before continuing, “I don’t know. It just stuck.”

The two of you stay like this, unmoving. When the computer screen turns off from inactivity, you stare at the reflection, how her face presses into your head, her own glasses askew from the position, how the hoodie still dwarfs her.

She stares at your face through the screen and notices your eyes fighting to stay open. “Come on,” she says gently, spinning the desk chair and removing your glasses before lifting you up by your hands. You follow without resistance as she walks backwards to the bed, only to trip over something. Seoyeon lands on the bed, sitting on its edge while you fall just before her, on your knees.

“Are you—“ she freezes when you lay your head down on her lap, cheek pressed against her thigh.

“Just 5 minutes,” you whisper, closing your eyes and encircling your arms around her.

Seoyeon exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding before threading her fingers through your hair, gazing softly as your breathing begins to even out.

——

You’re brought out of the memory when the song ends, Seoyeon removing the headphones from your head.

“Feeling nostalgic?” She teases, though you can tell it’s halfhearted with how her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, like she was experiencing the same memory.

She’s still so close—one more inch and you’re practically touching—but before you could reach for her, the owner arrives, a tray of tea in his hand.

You carefully take the tray from him, settling it down on a nearby table before showing him all the photos you took of the place. You can’t help smiling watching his reactions, tears welling in his eyes as he looks at his own memories in picture form. Looking up, you see a giant smile on her face, happy at what you’ve done for him.

He stops you when he finds the photo you took of her, swaying to the music before walking to the counter and returning, this time with a polaroid. You stare at it, shocked at the uncanniness of it. You realise it was a photo of his wife from years ago, captured just like Seoyeon was moments ago. He looks up from it and smiles at you, like he knows why you took that photo.

You’re finding fewer reasons to argue.

As you exit the shop, you only make it a few feet before doubling back, leaving Seoyeon behind and confused. You return with a plastic bag, handing it to her, “Here.”

She takes a look inside. It’s the vinyl of the song she played. “You bought this?”

You hum in agreement, “A souvenir.” You start walking, leaving her behind as she looks inside the bag. When she lifts her head, watching your back as you continue forward, a soft warmth spreads through her chest, like she’s seeing the boy from years ago.

——

You return to the music shop the following day, this time with her video camera to record more content. Of her admiring the place, listening to music, looking through books. She does a good job of hiding that this isn’t her first time here, that the first visit should be a secret kept between you two. Still, it gives you ample opportunities to capture more moments—her reading in the rocking chair, of her admiring the space again, even her playing with the cat.

You’re sat with the owner by the entrance, conversing. He brought out his photo album like he knew you’d return, proudly showing his memories of his wife, of the shop. They built this place together, every detail inside chosen by her and made possible by him. You look back to your own memories and know nothing could compare to this.

You stop mid-conversation when you feel her approaching with the camera in hand, pointing it at you. “What do you think of this place?”

You look at her in shock, “Uh… you have it pointed the wrong way.”

“It’s fine, they won’t use any of this stuff. At least, not without your permission,” she reassures, her eyes wide, still expecting an answer.

The owner steps up, talking about the history of the place as if he knew you didn’t have any answers. She points the camera to him but her eyes stay focused on you, eyes curling in amusement. He starts moving, showing her little details you missed in your photography—the slightly uneven shelf when he set it up wrong, the little cracks in the paint from the layers of wallpapers they put up over the years. You follow quietly behind, documenting everything you missed with photos of your own.

When the tour finishes and her camera is off, the owner gestures for you to stay inside the alcove as he goes off to fetch tea.

“You didn’t give me answer,” she pouts, “why not?”

“You didn’t give me enough time.”

“It’s spontaneous.”

“It’s too much pressure. This is why I’d rather be behind the camera.”

She hums in thought, thinking about what you said. “I guess you’re right,” she says. You watch as her eyes lighten up and you know this can’t be good. “What about when you suddenly confessed to me?”

You choke on nothing.

“I distinctly remember you not needing a lot of time back then,” she teases.

Your cheeks burn red, “That’s different that—“

You’re saved by the owner rounding the corner, tray filled with snacks and tea in hand. He sets it down between you before taking a seat himself, ready to tell more stories about his wife.

You look away, too embarrassed to face them. You can’t focus on the stories—your heartbeat too loud, muffling his words. You do catch snippets though: how they met, what he wished he’d done when she was still here, how he wished he had more time with her.

You turn to look at him, noticing how he keeps looking between you both, his features solemn, his eyes knowing. The implication is clear.

There’s no such thing as forever.

You glance over at Seoyeon, her fingers wrapped around her glass, trembling slightly. Her eyes are misty, like she’s trying not to let the tears fall.

Your chest aches at the scene.

——

You leave the shop in silence, Seoyeon walking a few feet in front, shoulders hunched over, arms wrapped around her body. After saying goodbye to the owner, she moved to the door quickly, like she was starved of air.

You follow at a safe distance, far enough to not suffocate her but close enough to watch her, keep her safe. You walk through the local town, pass the community centre, houses, mini marts without really seeing them. You hang your camera forgotten around your neck. It didn’t feel right to capture this moment.

Instead, you look at her video camera. In her haste to leave, she left it behind. It was still recording when you picked it up, recorded the whole conversation, her reactions, yours. You debate deleting it, debate letting her see this, let her content team see this. The footage too raw, too real but you stop yourself. It’s not your place to.

You stop the recording just as Seoyeon stops. In front of her is a playground, a few kids playing before being called by their parents. You still stand behind her, watching. She moves forward towards the swings before sitting down, her feet planted in the ground. She stares at her shoes, how they mark the sand underneath her, lost in thought.

You walk to her, stopping when your own shoes are in her sight. She looks up to you, sees the blanket in your hand and the half opened backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. She takes the blanket gently, laying it over her lap as you move to the swing beside her.

The silence stretches between you until the sun begins to set, the soft orange illuminating the playground in warmth.

“That was…”

“Yeah…” you respond. She doesn’t need to elaborate. It was heavy for you too.

The temperature begins to drop as the sun sets. You feel it before you notice the rain, small droplets falling in front of you, darkening the sand.

You’re suddenly reminded of the last time you were in the rain with her.

——

You don’t know when the rain got heavier, your umbrella forgotten on the ground. You’re outside a convenience store near her home, late at night. You stare at her, watch how her lips move without registering anything, deafened by the rain or your heart, you’re not too sure.

“I have to do this. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

“Regret not taking the opportunity? Or regret for being with me?” Your voice is hoarse, like glass sticking in your throat. You hit a sore spot with how her eyes widen.

“No! No I—“ she shouts, shaking her head profusely. She tries to continue but can’t, the brave mask finally breaking, her tears now mixing with the rain.

Your heart clenches at the sight.

She has the opportunity to be something more. To be seen and get the recognition she deserves. But you both know it comes at a cost. And while you know it’s the right thing to do, to grab the opportunity with both hands, it hurts all the same.

Still, seeing her like this, shivering in the night, trying to get the words out, you don’t want to be the cause of this.

You reach and pull on her hand, bringing her head to your chest as you hug her tightly. You don’t know when your tears started falling.

“I’m going to hate you. If I don’t, I don’t think I can continue,” you whisper, your chin resting against the top of her head one last time. “You should hate me too.”

She cries louder at that, her hold on you tighter, her shaking hard against your chest. You don’t hear the rain anymore, only her and it hurts.

You stay there until she calms down, at least enough for you to pull yourself away. When she realises what you’re doing, she clings on tighter, only for you to wrestle yourself out. You turn and leave, not looking back.

Her cries can be heard over the deafening rainfall, over your thundering heart but you keep walking, not letting yourself look back, leaving your umbrella behind.

——

You’re brought back by a touch on your arm. You turn your head towards Seoyeon, concern etched on her face but it’s blurry. You didn’t realise you’d been crying. You wipe your eyes with your hands before looking back to her.

“Are you okay?”

“Ye—yeah…” you reply. She doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t say anything either. You look at her more closely, hair damp from the rain. Immediately, you take your jacket off, placing it around her shoulders. “We should head out. Don’t want you to get a cold,” you say quietly.

She nods softly before attempting to stand, losing her balance as she does, one hand gripping the swing chain tightly. Instinctively, you reach for her, pulling her close to your chest. Almost as quickly as she fell, she moves away, slightly pushing against you.

You take the umbrella from your backpack, opening it to cover her. The pair of you walk silently out of the playground, wet sand sticking to your shoes. Streetlights illuminate the path back to the car, the smell of fresh rain in the air, the sound of it hitting the umbrella. You do your best to distract from your thoughts, from the woman beside you.

“Your shoulder’s getting wet.”

You glance at her, face still looking straight ahead. There’s a distance between you two—umbrella fully over her and partially over you. “It’s alright.”

She shifts closer. Her shoulder softly grazing the arm holding the umbrella. It tilts, letting it cover you both more evenly.

Neither of you mention it.

When you approach the car, you close the umbrella before shaking off the water. She’s at the passenger door, waiting. Immediately after both of you enter, you turn the heating on full, blowing warm air onto your hands. Both of you sit there, trying to get warm, waiting for the windscreen to clear before setting off.

“What’s the plan? For tomorrow?”

She turns to face you, unsure. “I—I don’t know. I’ll let you know. Tomorrow.”

You look at her, at her features. Her hair sticks to her forehead, her frame slightly shivering. You turn the air conditioning towards her before instinctively leaning forward, brushing the hair off her forehead. You hear her breath hitch before you realise why.

“S—Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The windscreen clears and you set off back to the hotel. The drive back is quiet, heavy but not uncomfortable. It continues until you make it to the hotel lobby outside the elevators.

“Get some rest,” she says.

“You too,” you reply.

You both get on different elevators.

——

When she asked if you wanted to go to the local market—for filming purposes—you couldn’t say yes quicker. You could barely get rest last night, still thinking about the events of that day and reliving the memory you wished never surfaced. You realise one thing that night: not once did you hate her.

The market is loud and bustling—vendors shouting, tourists browsing the various goods. The place is rich with subjects, perfect for both of you to get lost in. When you look down next to you, Seoyeon’s no longer by your side. Instead she’s further in, already filming.

You stay back, taking in the atmosphere before lifting your own camera and taking photos—stalls selling various trinkets, the food and the vendors. You were even lucky to find a few willing participants, posing for photos, asking you to retake them if they weren’t happy. You snap photos of the lanterns above, of the smoke rising from the food stalls. It’s chaotic and intense. Perfect for drowning your thoughts.

Slowly but surely, the two of you drift closer, going from stall to stall until you meet her at a tteokbokki stall. “Hey,” you shout over the crowd. She looks up, blowing on a piece of tteokbokki about to enter her mouth before changing her mind and bringing it to yours.

“Here, try this,” she insists, slightly pushing it against your lips. You open your mouth and take it, not looking at her. It’s good, better than what you normally order back home. “How is it?”

You cough, smoke coming out of your mouth. “Hot,” you fan your mouth, quickly inhaling as much air to cool it down.

A small laugh escapes her lips, watching you.

You freeze. You miss that sound.

The pain isn’t so bad after hearing that. You open your mouth again, signalling for more. She exhales loudly—exasperated but smiling—before feeding you more.

You both stand there, eating from the same container. Her feeding you and rolling her eyes whenever you open your mouth, signalling for more.

When you finish, you continue further into the market, this time side by side. Both your cameras lie untouched as you sample more food and browse the various stalls. You find yourselves in front of fish cake stand, Seoyeon’s eyes wide watching them cook in their broth. You flag the owner over, paying for two skewers before moving to an empty table nearby.

You take a skewer out of the cup, blowing on it then pointing it towards her. It’s your turn to feed her now.

“I can feed myself you know,” she says flatly. You shrug, a mischievous smile on your face. You wave the food in front of her before taking a bite out of it, humming in exaggerated delight at its taste. You watch as her mouth waters slightly at your performance, happy at her reaction. You present the skewer in front of her, egging her to take a bite. She finally relents.

“Wow…” her eyes light up at the taste, enjoying it more than you, eyebrows lifting in pleasant surprise. You smile, mouth still full, cheeks a little bigger than normal. She looks up to you and mimics your expression, your heart beating just a little faster.

It feels like you’re in high school again.

She moves to grab the other skewer before you could, a triumphant smile plastered on her face as she eats it. You watch her fondly until she finishes, grabbing the empty cup and sticks to dispose of them.

When you walk back to the table, you notice the crowds getting bigger. “Stay close to me,” you whisper in her ear as you make your way back to her, leaving no room for argument as you continue deeper into the market. She doesn’t protest, instead moving slightly in front of you, shoulder settling against your chest like her anchor.

You follow her, avoid bumping into the crowds or carts moving goods. She points at a fish tank holding fish for the restaurant, asking you to take a photo of her. She asks your opinion on what to get for her members, even though she knows you don’t know them too well.

“Do you think they’d like this?”

“Uh… sure,” you say, voice lacking belief. She looks over at you, eyes squinted reprimanding you for lying. “I mean… it’s kind of… generic?”

“Oh… really?”

“I don’t really know them. Maybe they’d like it?”

“Hmmm…”

She moves on until you reach the other side of the market, settling against a nearby wall and taking out the video camera. You hear her curse underneath her breath, “I was supposed to record more,” she looks up at you like she’s about to laugh, “I only got 10 minutes worth.”

You start laughing before she joins. That’s nowhere near enough. “You want to go back in?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too crowded, I’d just end up filming the back of people’s head,” she takes her phone out then, “I should find something else to film.”

You lean against the wall opposite of her, watching her. The way her hair frames her face, lips slightly parted in concentration, how some strands even fall into her mouth. You see her phone screen reflected in her eyes, see how she focuses on your next adventure. Her chest rises and falls faster than you expect, her features softer than you’ve seen on the trip. No exaggerations, no persona. Just her.

You watch as her face lights, turning the phone toward you, lightly jumping on her toes, “Let’s do this!”

You lean closer to the phone, before you turn to her, “You want to do this?”

She nods enthusiastically, reminiscent of when she asked you to give her a ride on a rental bike. You look towards the ground and sigh before lifting your head, smile forming on your lips, “Let’s go,” you move ahead, her running after you until she’s beside you.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

——

You drive in silence. Rolling hills to your left, the ocean to your right. Music softly playing on the radio. Her eyes haven’t left you since you started the drive. One leg drawn up on the seat, the shoe forgotten on the floor. It’s dangerous, how she’s sat but you don’t say anything, instead focus on getting there safely.

A sharp breeze blows through the opened passenger side window, ruffling her ponytail and bangs. You carefully steal a look before turning back to the road. You do it again. And again. Each time a little longer than the last—the smooth plane of her leg or the way her nails tap against the back of her phone.

You hear a laugh, one that you’re familiar with, normally when you do something she considers cute.

“You’re staring,” she says, amusement in her voice.

You turn back to the road, gripping the wheel tighter. Your face burns red, throat suddenly dry.

A familiar song comes on the radio, one that has Seoyeon sitting up and turning the volume up, “I love this song!”

Of course she does. It’s her own song.

You don’t say anything, instead you’re being treated to a live performance, phone serving as a microphone, occasionally placed near your mouth before returning back to hers. You can’t bite back the smile on your face at her antics.

“What’s your favourite song?”

“I like all of them.”

She huffs at that answer, “What a cop out.”

You turn to face her again. She’s smiling, staring at you. Time slows. Sunlight brighter, bathing her in a soft, ethereal glow. The light reflected from the ocean behind her makes this an image you want to remember.

It’s just a shame you can’t use your camera.

So you do the next big thing.

You memorise her.

——

Click.

You snap a photo of the canola fields, of the yellow flowers gently swaying in the breeze against the backdrop of a bright, blue sky.

You stand up, stretching your back as you take in your surroundings again. This place is beautiful, there’s no doubt about it, evident by the sheer number of photographers and visitors here. You remember from the car ride here how the best time to visit was now. And you’re glad you did. Missing out on seeing the blooming flowers would be one of your biggest regrets.

You scan the fields, looking for Seoyeon and finding her with her vlog camera, conversing with it. You watch as she turns the camera around, filming the flowers, panning the camera to capture how vast the fields are, the mountain behind her and the few rock statues scattered around.

You can’t help but change the settings to burst mode on your camera. You lift it and snap as many photos as she slowly spins, trying to capture anything and everything. She catches you taking photos, scrunches her nose, a mischievous smile on her face as she points her camera to you, zooming in.

Your heart jumps to your throat as you look at the photos.

She’s beautiful.

Her skirt flows as she spins, surrounded by yellow flowers that only enhance her. Arms out, face tilted toward the sky. Eyes closed. Smiling.

And in the last few frames—her eyes catch your camera, a sparkle in them as she aims her own at you. Like she knows these photos are for more than the exhibition.

You turn red at the thought.

As you finish admiring the photos, a couple taps your shoulder, asking you to take their picture. You oblige, taking their phone and snapping photos, gently repositioning them when needed.

Soon you feel her behind you, also directing, complimenting them on how photogenic they are.

You return their phone. They keep one hand open, asking for yours, “We should take pictures of you two!” The woman says.

“No, it’s okay, we’re—” Seoyeon starts.

“We’d love to!” you say, louder, quicker. You hand them your phone before standing beside Seoyeon.

She whips her head toward you. Eyes wide, mouth open. Eyebrows knitted together, head tilting.

“Three, two—”

She doesn’t have time to process. Doesn’t have time to pose.

Click.

The photo captures you both standing straight, stiff, side by side.

They laugh.

“Relax! Embrace each other!” the woman calls.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t think this through. You wrap your arm around her waist, gently pulling her close. You don’t look at her—afraid of her reaction. Instead, you smile at the camera, other hand making a V sign near your eye.

Seoyeon, still shocked, can’t help but look at you. Your cheeks slightly red. The movement of your throat as you swallow, pulling her close. Her hands clasp near her chest. Eyes never leaving your face.

Click.

The second photo captures her watching you.

You hear them laugh—call you adorable—but there’s a ringing in your ear. You turn to face her. She’s still looking at you, still shocked and now you feel a little embarrassed.

Your face burns.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea...” you concede.

She laughs at you, at how the one time you take the initiative, you’re an embarrassed mess. “Just smile,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around your torso as her head lands softly against your chest, face turned to the camera, a bright smile on her lips.

Click.

You know for a fact she heard your heart beat loudly.

She looks up at you again, notices your collar is a bit disheveled from the hanging camera and moves to fix it, hands gently grazing your neck as she does. She moves the camera, makes sure it doesn’t dig into your skin. You can’t look away from her. Can’t look away from the pink on her cheeks. Or the way her chest seems to rise and fall quickly.

Click.

“One more!”

Both of you turn to face them, her arm looped around yours, holding you tight. Both of you have a small smile on your faces. Genuine ones. The kind you don’t need to convince others of.

——

“Which one’s your favourite?”

You peer over her shoulder as she holds your phone, watch as she scrolls through the photos on your phone. You’re close to her, can feel her looking at you and hear her breath quicken as your eyes focus on your screen. “That one.”

Her eyes return to the screen as you walk off, back towards the car. She catches up to you, handing your phone over. “That was my favourite too,” she says softly, like she’s embarrassed you have the same taste before running off.

You turn your phone on. She changed your wallpaper. To the photo you both like. The last one.

——

You put the car in park, turning the engine off without fuss. You turn towards her and just stare.

She’s asleep.

Somewhere between the canola fields and the hotel, she drifted off. Legs curled up on the seat, a blanket draped over them. Seat reclined as far back as it goes.

Her breathing is even, eyes moving underneath her eyelids—she’s dreaming. A part of you hope it includes you.

You watch her. Heart full. You don’t know how long it’s been. Could be five minutes. Could be fifty. You wouldn’t mind either way.

She shifts a little, trying to get comfortable. A strand of hair falls across her face. You want to move it but you don’t risk waking her. She wrinkles her nose, tickles by the strand. You watch.

She stirs, eyes fluttering open. It takes a minute but her eyes focus on you. “Hi,” she says, voice rough, a sleepy smile adorning her face. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Five, ten minutes,” you say, no embarrassment in your voice. “Ever since we got here.”

Seoyeon sits up, arms high above her head as she stretches, a soft sound escaping—half sigh, half moan. You watch as the blanket falls into a pile on her waist. Her shirt slowly rides up, exposing her stomach, before she tugs it back down. If she noticed you staring, she doesn’t comment. Just smacks her lips together and settles back into the seat.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I’ve never woken you up before. Why should I start now?”

You watch her think, trying to remember a time you woke her.

She won’t find one.

Not at the library during study sessions. Not in your bed while you edited photos at your desk.

“You never did.”

“I never did.”

She holds eye contact with you for a few seconds before breaking it, looking down at her hands playing with the blanket. “I used to sleep a lot back then huh?” She says quietly.

You shrug your shoulders. “Well it made sense. You were always moving. Always running, climbing, dancing too.”

Both of you laugh at the memories. She was the one that always dragged you out to places—arcades, parks, even dance studios. You honestly have her to thank for keeping you healthy.

You grow silent, suddenly remembering your relationship. How she was the first person you looked for whenever something happened, how she was cheering loudest when you won those photography awards. That proud smile she had when she took photos of you with the trophy, how you smiled when she claimed she was the reason you won. It’s true but you never mentioned it.

“I should head inside,” she says, snapping you from your memories. You see her reflection in the window. Looks like she remembered something too.

As her hand goes to open the door, you stop her. “Wait,” she turns to you, waits as you gather the courage. “Dinner. Would you like to grab dinner together? Tomorrow?”

A small smile creeps up her face. “Just dinner? Let’s make it a date.”

You stutter, surprised at what she just said. “Su—sure.”

She looks you in the eyes, her eyes wrinkling at the corner as she smiles. “Good night,” she says gently, opening the door and closing it with a quiet thud.

You sit there in silence, watch as she enters the hotel and release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You can’t stop the smile.

——

You’re woken up by a soft knocking at the hotel door. “Alright, alright,” you say groggily, rubbing your eyes as you pad your way to the door before opening.

You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming.

Seoyeon can’t be outside your door in a flowy white dress, hair curled, cascading past her shoulders. Her face has little makeup, just a soft pink on her lips.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

A small smile tugs at her lips, cheeks puffing slightly as she nods, “I’m here for our date,” she says matter-of-factly.

You turn to the table behind you, reading the digital clock. “Seoyeon, it’s 5:30 in the morning.”

She walks herself into your room, “I know. Gives you enough time to get ready. To see the sunrise.” She walks over to the window and draws the curtains. It’s still pitch black, “Remember what you said before?”

You try to rack your brain at anything and everything you might’ve said to her in the past week that would result in her being here so early in the morning. Nothing comes to mind.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You sit down on your bed, still trying to wake up as you watch her face in the reflection.

The smiles gone, replaced with a melancholy look. “You said you wanted to see the sunrise with me.”

Your eyes widen.

She remembered something you said years ago in passing, when both of you were snuggled up in your bed. You were just mindlessly talking about everything you wanted to do with her, thinking she’d fallen asleep.

Guess you were wrong.

“I didn’t think you heard that,” you say quietly, wondering how many times she pretended to sleep and how much she actually knows.

She turns quickly, hands clapping once. “I did. Now, get dressed. We don’t want to miss it.”

You stand, heading to your suitcase. “Are you going to watch?”

A bright smile crosses her face, “I mean… it’s nothing I haven’t seen a hundred times,” she teases.

“Seoyeon…” you say, a wry smile on your face as you look for something to wear.

“Alright, alright,” she says, hands up in surrender as she moves to the door, “I’ll meet you in the lobby. Hurry up.”

——

You walk towards where she set up, two water bottles in hand. The sun has yet to appear over the horizon, the only light being from her phone’s flashlight, illuminating the sand as she writes something. She hears your footsteps grow louder, sand crunching beneath your feet. She quickly wipes away the writing before you can see it.

“Is this all you got?” she asks as you hand her bottle.

“Seoyeon, it’s six in the morning. The only thing open is the vending machine over there,” you say, thumb pointing towards the machine beside the closed convenience store.

You grab your backpack from behind you, retrieving a blanket that you drape over her shoulders.

She didn’t bring a jacket. You want to ask why but choose not to. You’ll give her yours anyway.

As you wait for the sunrise, you notice her inching closer. She throws one end of the blanket over, encapsulating you both.

You turn to her, watch how she lays her head onto her knees, a soft, easy smile on her face as she stares at you. “Thought you might be cold.”

You gaze into her brown eyes, not breaking contact. You could stare into them forever. Her eyes slowly brighten, her face catching a soft, orange glow. The sunrise. Both of you turn towards it. You grab your phone, camera forgotten in your hotel room and capture a photo.

You stare at the photo and scoff in disbelief.

You’ve taken so many photos of the sunrise but this one feels different. Maybe because it felt like a chore before or maybe it’s because you’re fulfilling a wish.

You don’t know.

Turning towards her, you snap a photo of her side profile, how one side glows and the other is left in the shade, how her chin tilts upwards, eyes closed, basking in the morning light.

She lets out a long breath.

“You done taking pictures?”

One eye opens and looks at you.

You can only nod in agreement.

——

After packing up and leaving the beach, you both walk around aimlessly, looking for some place to eat. You notice her drift towards you. Closer and closer until your hands brush against each other. You don’t say anything. Neither does she, focused on what’s ahead, even as you feel her pinky reach out—tentative and testing—only to pull back. She does it again. And again. Until you hook yours around hers. A small smile appears.

She’s more energised now, talking about anything and everything.

She teases you about everything you said when you thought she was asleep. You fight back with some of her embarrassing moments but she brushes it off while you stay flustered. She talks about her company, her members—how she couldn’t imagine doing this without them. She even tells you about comeback plans you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to know about.

You continue to watch her, animated, jumping on her toes about a particular story during dance practice. At one point, you’ve stopped listening entirely, content with just watching her.

You notice her go quiet before turning to face what she’s looking at. A couple of elderly ladies on their morning walk approach you. With how close they are, you can tell they’ve been gossiping. From the way their eyes look at you both, you know the topic is both of you.

You both bow in greeting.

One of them smiles. “What a cute couple.”

Neither of you say anything. You just smile.

As you walk off, you feel her pinky being replaced by her hand tightening around yours.

——

Breakfast is at a small mom-and-pop shop run by someone’s grandmother, hidden from the normal tourist stops. Just the two of you, surrounded by the sound of the burner, the rattling of a portable heater in the corner, the TV playing news on low volume.

“Give me your phone,” she says, hand already outstretched.

You hand it over without hesitation.

“Same password?”

You hum in agreement, chin resting on your hands, watching her.

“You still kept the wallpaper?”

“Of course. It’s my favourite.”

She looks up, smiling brightly before turning around and lifting the phone into the air, camera facing both of you.

Her lips slightly puckered, other hand making a V sign. You follow her lead—V sign, small smile.

She snaps photo after photo, changing her pose each time. Dog ears. Cheek hearts.

Once finished, she scrolls through them. Her smile grows with each one.

“Yah! You kept the same pose?”

She keeps scrolling. Stops on one. Her smile falters—shifts into something softer. She turns the phone toward you.

It’s you. Looking at her, not the camera. A warm smile on your face.

Before she can say anything, the food arrives—hot, steaming, placed between you.

She hands your phone back quickly.

As you tuck it away, she grabs your bowl and ladles soup into it. When you look up, her eyes flick toward the food.

Eat.

——

The underground shopping centre is busy, full of people browsing items from various stores. Seoyeon drags you from one store to another, hand holding yours tightly as she looks for souvenirs.

“Here, try this.”

You bend down slightly, letting her place a pair of sunglasses on your face. Her fingers gently grasp your chin, turning your head to let her get a better look.

“You’re not buying this for me, are you?”

“Why not?” She takes off the glasses before walking toward the vendor, going as far as haggling for a cheaper price.

You stand frozen where she left you, the ghost of her touch still lingers on your chin, your head fuzzy from the contact.

“Here. Got a pretty good discount for it too,” she says proudly, handing you the gift bag.

“Th—Thank you, Seoyeon.”

You continue to follow her as she browses when something catches your eye. A small charm—a yellow flower. A canola flower, maybe.

You slip away while she examines key rings. The vendor wraps it quickly before handing it over.

When you return, she’s looking around for you. She spots you and smiles.

“Oh… what is that?”

You hand it over and wait for her to unwrap it. The charm sits on top of tissue paper inside a small box. The fluorescent light catches it, making it sparkle.

You watch her reaction, swallowing hard when you can’t decipher its meaning, “It’s for your bag. Or wherever.”

She stares at it before picking it up gently. She hands you the empty box, attaching the charm to her purse. She smiles at it then directs at you.

She grabs your arm, looping hers in yours before you continue browsing. You feel her rise on her tiptoes before you can do anything, lips pressed gently against your cheek in a quick peck.

“Thank you.”

Your stumble slightly, missing a step. She laughs at your reaction, dragging you to the next store.

——

After dinner, you find yourselves back at the beach. The sun is setting, casting the sky in a soft orange and pink. You walk along the waterline to digest, both yours and her shoes in one hand, her hand in the other, fingers intertwined. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand is pleasant, the feel of the sand under your feet warm and inviting.

She squeals beside you, jumping back from a wave splashing against her leg. You can’t help the laugh that escapes. She pouts at your reaction then grins. She lets go of your hand, wades into the water before kicking some onto you.

“Hey!”

“Still think it’s funny?” she says, laughing at you.

Dropping the shoes, you run in after her, splashing her but not enough soak through. She runs away, laughing and squealing, begging you to stop, “You’re going to soak me!”

You look at her—laugh lines around her eyes, hair damp and wild, smile radiant.

Your heart clenches.

She looks the exact same as she was from years ago.

You shake your head, force yourself to stay present and carry on after her.

——

You find a bench, just at the edge of the beach. You sit, towel in hand, drying your hair, arms, legs.

Both of you went a bit overboard splashing each other. What was once playful soon became competitive. You lost.

You turn to her, watch as she slowly dries her hair while looking out into the sea. You look further down, her legs still damp, feet covered in sand.

You get down on one knee, towel draped over your thigh. Gently, you take one foot, wrapping the towel around it, you begin wiping away the sand stuck to her skin. Working your way up—ankle, calf, knee.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

You don’t look up, focusing on what’s in front of you. “Drying you.”

You hear her breath quicken, see how her hands fall to the bench, gripping tightly.

You look up.

Her mouth slightly open, eyes glazed over but locked on you.

You move to her leg, eyes still on hers.

Her cheeks flush, her chest rises and falls—quick, shallow breaths.

The air feels charged around you, everything else drowned out.

“Ah—“

A breeze picks up, kicking up sand into her eyes. She flinches, squeezing her eyes shut.

You move quickly—hand cradling her cheek as you blow the sand away. Your thumb caresses her cheekbone, clearing the sand.

The sand is gone. Your thumb keeps moving.

You wait for her to open her eyes.

She nuzzles into your hand as she slowly opens her eyes, slightly red from irritation but still beautiful—so deep you could drown in them.

You trace the path down—the mole on her nose. To her lips.

Still parted.

You don’t remember closing the distance. Just your lips pressing firmly against hers.

Your eyes flutter close as she reciprocates. Her lips soft, insistent.

Your thumb still traces her cheeks. It’s wet.

She’s crying. Like she can’t believe this is real.

You can’t either.

You part eventually. A thin string of saliva connecting you.

You open your eyes slowly. She’s already looking at you.

Your breaths mingle in the space between.

Her hand glides up your arm. Reaches your neck. Pulls you back.

This kiss is different—more urgent, desperate. Her tongue asks for permission. You give it.

Your hand finds the bench, steadying yourself. Her fist finds your shirt.

You hear fabric tear.

You don’t care.

——

“Wow! These are amazing!”

You stare blankly ahead at the screen as your manager hovers over you, scrolling through the album.

It’s been a month since you’ve returned from Jeju. You kept in touch with Seoyeon—constant messages about her days, sending her old photos from before. It was great until it wasn’t. Messages became infrequent and short. You chalk it up to you both being busy. It’s true—she’s busy preparing for a comeback, you with the exhibition.

Still, you wish you were still on the island.

“This is what I’m talking about! The emotion! The setting! I knew you had it in you!”

Your manager grabs hold of your shoulders, shaking them as if you won something. You don’t listen. To be honest, you hardly do anymore.

“Alright, is it done? Are these the photos going in the exhibit?”

You hesitate.

Putting these up feels like a violation of your privacy. Of hers. But you can’t deny the beauty of them, the feelings they evoke.

“I’m not sure,” you say finally.

Before your manager says anything, your friend appears—ushers him out the door.

You forgot he was there. He’s been quieter than usual.

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face, tired.

“You should put them up. It’s a disservice if you don’t.”

Your face stays behind your hands, even when he leaves without another word.

You roll your chair closer to the desk and reach for your phone.

There’s an email from the exhibition host: invitation codes.

Your aunt and uncle are already coming. The manager too.

Your thumb hovers over her name.

Send her a ticket directly. That’s what you want to do.

But what if she doesn’t come?

You can’t shake it. The thought of her trying—schedule permitting, company permitting—and failing. Or worse: not trying at all.

You close her contact. Open your email. Address it to her company instead. Thank them. Offer tickets to the group.

If she comes, she comes.

You hit send before you can second-guess it

——

The event hall is bustling. Other photographers set up in different areas of the hall, a steady stream of visitors coming in and out.

Your exhibit is one of the more popular ones. Visitors stay and look at yours longer than others, debate between people as to what your photos represent, of the technique used. Others have come just to admire them. They look for you, ask for the meaning behind an image then compliment you on capturing such beauty.

All you do is smile and thank them. Your focus is on the entrance.

You see your aunt and uncle approach, your manager leading them to you. You lean down, a kiss on the cheek from your aunt and a pat on the back from your uncle. They hand you a bouquet of flowers, congratulating you on the successful exhibit.

“Your nephew is a prodigy! Come, come. Look at the photos.”

Your manager drags your aunt, pointing at some of the photos, describing what they mean. You doubt he knows the actual meaning.

“Are you sure you want to stick with him?”

You sigh, “Yeah. He’s good at what he does. Even if he is all about the money.”

Both you and your uncle watch as your aunt starts asking questions that your manager has no hope of answering. You laugh when he suddenly excuses himself, leaving your aunt alone.

Your uncle joins her. You return to the other visitors, even publishers who want to use your photos for their magazines.

When you get some free time, you rejoin your family. “You have a favourite photo?”

Your aunt points to one, ignoring your question. “Is that Seoyeon?”

You follow where she’s pointing. It’s Seoyeon in the canola fields, “Yeah…”

“She’s even more beautiful,” she comments, eyes still on the photo. She turns to you, “How is she?”

“She’s great. Preparing for a comeback right now.”

“Is she coming? Did you invite her?”

You struggle to get anything out, a noncommittal sound answering her question instead.

“It’s a shame. What happened between you two,” she says, a wistful expression on her face. She turns towards you. “She was the best thing to have happened to you. I’ve never seen you smile so much. Ever since your parents died,” she whispered that last part, like she knew she shouldn’t have said that but did so anyway.

“Yeah.”

You both stare at her photo for a few minutes before your aunt turns towards you, arms outstretched.

You smile, leaning down and accepting the hug.

“If you see her again, tell her we’re always rooting for her. And that we forgive her for breaking your heart,” she whispers into your ear.

“Auntie…”

“Relax. It was a joke,” she says as you separate. “Now go. Your manager wants to introduce you to someone.”

You turn. Your manager is beckoning from across the room. You give your aunt a small smile. She pushes you toward him.

——

The exhibit starts to wind down. A few people still mill around but the majority of the hall is empty.

You’re walking back to your place after helping another photographer pack their stuff back into their car when you freeze in place.

She’s here.

She looks different—her hair is now brown and wavy, her bangs a little longer than before. She’s wearing a jacket and jeans—different from the sun dresses you’re used to seeing.

She’s staring at your photos, still hasn’t seen you yet. You move until you’re just behind her. You look where she’s staring at—the photo of her in the record shop. And next to it? The owner’s wife. He gave it to you before you left.

The resemblance is uncanny.

She eventually turns, surprised to see you. “Hi.”

You smile, “Hi.”

She turns back, looking at the rest of your exhibits. “They’re beautiful,” she says in awe, like it’s the first time she’s seeing them. “Especially the ones with me.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your mouth as you look down, kicking at an imaginary rock.

She moves now, away from the photos and towards you, until her shoes are all you see. You look up. She’s close. Really close.

“I’m sorry. For being distant. It’s not an excuse but—“

“You were preparing for your comeback. I know.”

She lets out a sigh of relief, like she was afraid you were angry. You can never be.

“My aunt and uncle were here. My photos of you were her favourite.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in agreement, “They also told me to tell you… that we’re always rooting for you.”

You see her eyes widen, tears forming at the corners. You move without hesitation, wiped them away with your thumb.

She drops her handbag to the floor, a loud bang echoing in the hall. Her hand reaches for yours on her cheek, holding it tight.

You look around, worried someone might see her like this but there’s no one left. Just the two of you.

You focus back on her, watch as she locks her eyes with yours. You don’t break contact, even when both your breathing starts to pick up.

“I want to start again. Us.”

Your heart—

“And before you say anything. We’ll make it work. I’ll protect you from the fans so don’t worry about them,” she whispers, her other hand now on your cheek.

You hold it there. “I should be the one reassuring you.”

She laughs tearfully before going quiet and staring at you—your eyes, nose, lips. She moves quickly up on her tiptoes, kissing you like she did back on the beach. It’s wet with tears but you reciprocate, how could you not?

Both hands are now on her cheeks as you push—your tongue in her mouth, her into the wall with a gentle thud. She follows your lead, wrapping her arms around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

You had to separate eventually, placing your foreheads together as you both breathe heavily. You stare into her eyes, communicating all your emotions into them.

“I love you.”

You smile wide.

“I love you too.”

——

(You remember the first time she said it)

“Hide me. Hide me.”

You’re fiddling with the settings of the camera when Seoyeon comes barrelling into your classroom, running to hide behind you.

“What did you do now?” you whisper, shielding her from whatever comes through the door.

“Nothing. Just playing tag.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing tag?”

“Aren’t you a little young to be this boring?”

Before you could refute, her friend enters, slamming the door.

“Is she in here?” she asks, no one in particular. When no one responds, she moves off to the next room.

“She’s gone.”

She peers over your shoulder, checking her surroundings before sighing in relief.

“Thank you. Love you,” she says as she presses her lips against your cheek before running off again.

Your hand slowly comes up, touches where she kissed you, dazed.