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you're checking your phone for the third time in two minutes, the screen casting a pale glow on your hands, when you hear it. the distant growl of an engine, low and mean, cutting through the quiet of the street. you look up, tucking your phone into your back pocket, and your heart kicks against your ribs.

the streetlight above you flickers, bathing the sidewalk in intermittent yellow, and you shift your weight from foot to foot. it's late, past midnight, and the shops along this stretch are dark, metal grates pulled down. you should be cold in just your thin sweater, but anticipation keeps you warm, keeps your blood humming.

the sound gets louder, a predator's purr echoing off the buildings, and then you see him. the bike rounds the corner, black and gleaming, the headlight sweeping across the pavement before fixing on you.

heeseung slows to a stop right in front of where you're standing, one booted foot touching the ground to balance the machine between his thighs. he pushes his hair back - dyed silver, his black roots showing through. he looks at you, dark eyes raking over your body, slow and deliberate, that familiar smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"you waiting for someone, princess?" he asks, voice rough from disuse, from cigarettes, from the simple fact of being him.

"maybe," you say, stepping closer. "some idiot on a bike. heard he's bad news."

"heard right," he says, and he reaches out, his gloved hand catching your hip and pulling you in. "get on."

the engine roars to life beneath you, a vicious purr that vibrates through your chest and settles somewhere low in your stomach. heeseung doesn't look back at you, not yet, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitch upward in that way that makes your heart stutter. his silver hair catches the streetlight as he revs the throttle, the sound tearing through the quiet seoul night like a threat.

"hold on tight, princess," he says over his shoulder, voice rough and low, and you don't need to be told twice. your arms snake around his waist, fingers clutching at the worn leather of his jacket. then, he speeds off, the force of it snapping you back a bit before you’re forced forward.

seoul blurs past in streaks of colours, the streetlights bleeding into one long ribbon of gold as heeseung weaves through the late-night traffic. he's going too fast, he always goes too fast. but you don’t care. you’ve come to enjoy the speed, the thrill, everything that comes with heeseung. your hair whips around your face, and you squeeze your arms tighter around him, feeling the rumble of the bike between your thighs, the vibration traveling up your spine.

he takes a corner sharp and you yelp, your hands fisting in his leather jacket. he laughs, you feel it more than hear it, the vibration of his chest against your palms.

"scared?" he shouts over the wind.

"never," you yell back, and you feel his hand cover yours for a second, squeezing, before he returns it to the handlebars.

the tattoo parlor is tucked down an alley that smells like fried street food and rain. heeseung kills the engine and the sudden silence rings in your ears. he gets off first, swinging his leg over with practiced ease, and you follow, your legs unsteady from the ride, from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

your foot catches on nothing, the pavement tilting weirdly, and you stumble forward with a gasp. before you can catch yourself, his hand is on your lower back, warm and firm, steadying you against his chest.

"easy, princess," he mumbles, breath hot against your ear. his thumb traces a slow circle over your spine, right above the waistband of your jeans, and you shiver. "got sea legs?"

"shut up," you mutter, but you're smiling, and he sees it, his dark eyes softening in that way they only do for you.

the bell above the door jingles when he pushes it open, and the guy behind the counter looks up, bored expression shifting to a playful scowl when he realises it’s heeseung and not some randomer who was dared to get a tattoo at ass o’clock in the night.

"'bout fucking time," jay says, finally glancing over. he's got ink up to his throat, dark and intricate, and when he sees you, his expression softens into something almost fond. "hey, sweetheart. long time no see."

"don't call her that," heeseung says, but there's no real bite to it. he moves past jay to the mini fridge in the corner, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a hiss. "you got the sketch?"

"nah, just standing here for shits and giggles," jay says dryly. “and stop stealing my fucking beer and pay for your own, asshole.”

"or what? you'll cry?" heeseung grins, unbothered by the harsh words. they've been friends since before you met either of them, and you know this routine by heart. the fake hostility, the insults they throw like affection.

"come on," jay says, jerking his head toward the back. "let's see what we're doing."

you'd told heeseung weeks ago that you wanted this. something small, something to mark you as his. he'd gone quiet when you asked, his eyes darkening slight as he studied your face with an intensity that made you squirm, then nodded once. "jay only," he'd said. "no one else touches you."

now, sitting in the chair with your wrist extended, you understand why. jay is meticulous, gentle in a way that surprises you given his sharp tongue and the rings on every finger. heeseung stands behind you, close enough that his thigh brushes your shoulder, and you can feel the heat of him, the protective energy radiating off him in waves.

"just the letter?" jay asks, wiping down your skin with antiseptic. you had asked for a small letter H, and the knowing look jay gave you made you want to curl up in embarrassment.

"yeah," you say, voice steadier than you feel.

"small. classy. i like it." jay glances up at heeseung. "though, not sure how i feel about it being this idiot’s initial."

"fuck off," heeseung says mildly, taking a swig of his beer, but his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb stroking your collarbone.

the needle buzzes to life and you tense, but heeseung's fingers tighten, grounding you. it hurts, but it's a good hurt, a burning that feels like claiming. you watch the black ink bloom under your skin, the simple letter taking shape, and something settles in your chest.

it doesn’t take long at all. “all done," jay says, wiping away the excess ink. "want to see?"

you're about to nod when heeseung speaks up.

“fuck it," he says suddenly. "i'm getting one too."

heeseung is already rolling up his sleeve, exposing the canvas of his forearm. he's covered in ink, has been since before you met him, dragons and roses and script in languages you don't recognize weaving up his arms and disappearing under his shirt.

jay pauses, turning towards him. "seriously? you were just bitchin’ last week about runnin’ out of space."

"just do it," heeseung rolls his eyes, and there's something in his voice that makes you go still. "same spot. crown on the wrist."

jay looks between the two of you, understanding dawning slow and sly on his face. "oh, i get it. cute. fucking disgusting, but cute."

"shut the hell up and tattoo me," heeseung growls, but there's no real heat in it.

he wraps your tattoo up gently before cleaning his needle precisely. you watch heeseung take the chair, watch his jaw tighten as jay works the small crown into his skin, right on his wrist where his pulse beats. he doesn't flinch. he never flinches. but when jay finishes and heeseung looks up at you, his eyes are soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

"matching," he says, standing up. he holds out his wrist next to yours, the tiny crown sitting opposite to your little h. "so everyone knows."

"knows what?" you whisper.

"that you're mine, princess," he says, and he says it like a fact, like gravity, like something undeniable. "that i'm yours." jay makes a gagging noise in the background, but heeseung ignores him.

jay gives you instructions; keep it clean, don't pick at it, come back in a few weeks for a touch-up if needed. heeseung pays, waving off your attempt to offer your own money. "my treat," he says simply. he takes your hand, gently pulling you towards the door.

"see you, jay," you manage to call out. heeseung grunts noncommittedly. “see you later, asshole.”

"yeah, yeah. try not to die on that death trap,” jay says, already moving to clean the needle again.

heeseung flips him off without looking back, and he opens the door for you, letting you out first, then closing it behind him, the little bell ringing in the background.

outside, the night has deepened, the street quieter now. heeseung leans against the bike, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. you shake your head, and he lights his own, the flame illuminating his face for a moment before flickering out.

"where to now?" you ask.

he exhales smoke, pointedly keeping it out of your face, watching it rise into the night. "i know a place. quiet. you up for more riding?"

"always," you say, and you mean it. he takes a few more drags of the cigarette, before stubbing it out on the wall and tucking the butt into his pack. he climbs onto the bike, patting the seat behind him. “up you go, princess.”

this time, when you climb on behind him, you press closer than before. your arms wrap around his waist, your cheek against his back, and you feel the vibration of the engine as it roars to life. but he doesn't speed off immediately. his free hand comes down to cover both of yours, holding them against his stomach, and he stays like that for a long moment, just savouring the touch, the feel of your skin.

then he kicks off, the engine roaring in the night. the ride this time is slower, more meandering, like he's prolonging the night. it's a small place tucked between apartment buildings, barely more than a patch of grass and a few benches, but it's quiet and private. he kills the engine and helps you off, his hands lingering on your waist.

the grass is damp when you sit, but heeseung strips off his leather jacket without hesitation, spreading it on the ground for you. you settle onto it, the leather still warm from his body, smelling like him, and he sits beside you, pulling you into his side so your head rests on his shoulder.

"didn’t know you’d get another one, too," you say, tracing the fresh tattoo on his wrist with your fingertip. the skin is raised, slightly red, but he doesn't pull away.

"wanted to," he simply says, lighting another cigarette with a practiced flick of his lighter. the flame illuminates his face for a second, the sharp line of his jaw, the silver of his hair. he takes a drag and exhales away from you, smoke curling into the dark. "did jay hurt you at all?"

"no. he was good,” you reply, leaning further into him.

"he better have been." heeseung's arm tightens around you. "i don't trust anyone else with you. you know that, right?"

you nod, your cheek rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. "i know."

they sit in silence for a while, watching the clouds drift over the moon. heeseung smokes his cigarette down to the filter, then stubs it out on the sole of his boot, tucking the butt into his pocket. when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, stripped of the bravado.

"you ever think about leaving?" he asks. "jumping the train and just.. getting out of here? somewhere you can find someone.. better?"

you lift your head to look at him. his eyes are fixed on the horizon, his profile sharp in the dim light. his adams apple bobs as he swallows, avoiding your eyes.

"no," you say honestly. "never." and you’re telling the truth. heeseung may look like the type of guy your parents told you to steer clear of when you were a kid, but he’s much more than that.

he turns then, finally, his gaze dropping to your mouth. he’s silent for a few moments, before clearing his throat. “good," he says, rough and soft all at once. "because i'm not letting you go."

he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his touch gentle despite the calluses, the roughness of him. he leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back if you wanted to. you don’t.

the first kiss is chaste, almost tentative, just a brush of lips that makes your breath catch. he pulls back, just enough to look at you, to make sure you're still okay with this.

then he leans in again, and this time it's different.

his mouth opens against yours, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding past your lips with a confidence that makes you whimper. he groans, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and his hands are moving, one tangling in your hair, the other sliding down your back to grip your hip.

"come here," he growls against your mouth, and then he's pulling you, effortless, into his lap.

you straddle him, your knees digging into the grass on either side of his hips, and he tilts his head back to look up at you. his eyes are dark, blown wide, his hair falling into his face.

"princess," he breathes, and then his mouth is on your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, sucking marks into your skin that you'll wear for days. you arch into him, your fingers gripping his shoulders, feeling the muscle shift under your hands.

"heeseung," you gasp, and he hums against your throat, the vibration making you squirm.

he pulls back, his lips swollen and slick, his pupils blown wide and black. his chest heaves beneath you, and you can feel him hard against your thigh, can feel the restraint in every line of his body. his hands grip your waist tighter, thumbs pressing into the hollows of your hips, and he grinds up against you, a slow, deliberate roll that makes your head fall back.

"feel what you do to me?" he rasps, his voice wrecked. he trails his mouth along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged. "fuck, i want you. want you in my bed. want you under me. want-"

he cuts himself off with another kiss, deeper this time, filthy and desperate, his tongue mapping your mouth like he's trying to memorise the shape of you. his hands slide down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against him, and you feel dizzy, drunk on him, on the smell of smoke and leather and the permanent smell of fuel from his bike clinging to his clothes.

"your place," you manage, your voice barely a whisper against his lips. "take me to your place.”

he goes still, searching your face, and whatever he finds there makes his expression crack open, something hungry and tender warring in his gaze. he groans again, low and guttural, and buries his face in your neck, breathing you in.

"yeah," he says, his voice rough as gravel. "yeah, okay. let me-" he kisses you again, deep and filthy, like he physically can’t bear to not be kissing you. his tongue sweeps through your mouth, his hands roaming over your body like he can't get enough. "fuck, i want you. want you so bad."

he stands up with you still in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and he doesn't stumble, doesn't waver. he carries you to the bike like you weigh nothing, sets you down only long enough to swing his leg over and pull you on behind him. his hand finds yours, brings your wrist to his mouth, and he presses a kiss to your fresh tattoo, to the h marking your skin.

"hold on," he says, and there's a promise in those two words, a threat and a vow. "and don't let go."

you press your face against his back, your arms tight around his middle, and you feel him rev the engine, feel the bike roar to life beneath you.

the streetlights blur again as he speeds through the empty streets, faster than before, reckless and wild and free. but you're not scared. you're never scared with him.

he’s your ride or die.

the air is crisp and clean as you walk down the street toward the aquarium, your hand tucked perfectly into sunoo's, fingers interlaced and swinging back and forth between you. his hand is warm, larger than yours, and every time your arms swing forward, his thumb brushes against your knuckles in a rhythm that matches your steps.

"you excited?" he asks, turning his head to look at you with gentle eyes that curve into crescents when he smiles. his hair is styled just the way you like it, soft and fluffy and framing his face in a way that makes your heart do a little flip.

"of course," you say, squeezing his hand. "i've been looking forward to this all week."

"me too," sunoo says, and he swings your hand a little higher, almost playful, making you giggle as you have to take a bigger step to keep up with the arc. "there's something about aquariums that's just... peaceful, you know? like entering another world."

you nod, watching the way the afternoon light catches in his eyes, turning them into warm honey. "plus," you add, bumping your shoulder against his arm, "i get to see you react to all the cute fish. you have the best expressions."

sunoo laughs, a soft sound that sounds like fairies could be born from it. "i'm not that expressive."

"you absolutely are," you insist, swinging his hand again. "remember when jay hid your mint choco ice cream? you practically had a permanent pout on your face."

"it was really nice ice cream," he defends, but he's smiling, his cheeks puffing out to look like mochi. "and you're one to talk. you squeal at every kitty we see in the streets, demanding we pet them."

"they’re just too cute!" you protest, but you're both laughing now, swinging your joined hands higher as you approach the large building that is the aquarium. the front is covered in cute drawings of fish, ranging from tiny seahorses to big sharks.

sunoo holds the door open for you, his hand moving to the small of your back as you step inside, and you flush a little at the gesture, looking up at him to find him already gazing down at you. he always does this; watches you like he's memorising every detail, like he wants to remember exactly how you look in every moment you share.

the entrance is cool and dim, lit with soft blue lights that mimic being underwater. the smell of salt and something clean fills your nose, and sunoo releases your hand only to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

"ready to explore?" he murmurs against your temple, and you nod, reaching up to take his hand again, threading your fingers through his as you walk toward the first exhibit.

the first tank is enormous, a floor-to-ceiling wall of water filled with multiple species of small fish that move in perfect synchronisation, a living cloud of shimmer and scale. you both stop, pressed against the glass, and sunoo makes a small sound in his throat, something between wonder and delight.

"look at them," he whispers, his breath fogging the glass slightly. "they're so pretty."

you tilt your head up to look at him, at the way the blue light from the tank reflects off of his face, making him look ethereal, otherworldly. his lips are parted slightly, his eyes tracking the movement of the fish with genuine fascination, and you feel a familiar rush of affection that happens every time you see him like this; unguarded, soft, and completely present with you. the fish are pretty, sure, but you find him even prettier.

"you want a picture?" you ask, already reaching for your phone.

sunoo blinks, then smiles, a sweet smile that makes your heart clench. "only if you take one with me.”

you see another visitor a few feet away from you so he walks up to ask them to take a photo of you both, standing in front of the swirling silver fish, sunoo's arm around your waist and your head resting against his shoulder. the visitor, an older woman, smiles at the two of you, muttering something about “young love” when you thank her and she leaves. when you look at the photo later, you'll notice how he's looking at you instead of the camera, his expression so full of love it almost hurts to see.

you move slowly through the exhibits, never rushing, taking time to appreciate every little creature you encounter. there's a tank of seahorses, tiny and delicate, clinging to strands of seaweed with their curly tails. sunoo presses his face close to the glass, his nose almost touching it, and points at a particularly small one.

"angel, look," he says, the nickname spilling out of him like he didn’t even think twice about it. he catches himself and laughs, his ears turning pink. "i mean, look, that's the tiniest thing i've ever seen."

you giggle, stepping closer to him, your hand finding his automatically. "it's adorable. just like you."

"i'm not tiny," he protests, but he's smiling, turning to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "you're the tiny one."

it's true. you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, and when you stand close like this, you fit perfectly under his chin. he seems to realise this at the same time you do, because he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head as you both watch the seahorses bob gently in their tank, tiny beings of multiple different colours.

the next room is darker, lit with bioluminescent blues and purples that cast everything in an aquatic glow. jellyfish drift past in cylindrical tanks, their tentacles trailing beneath them. sunoo is immediately mesmerised, his hands pressed against the cool glass, his face in a permanent expression of delight and awe.

"they float so gracefully," he breathes, and you take out your phone to capture this moment, sunoo bathed in blue light, his face illuminated with wonder, looking like a dream you once had and never wanted to forget.

"turn around," you say softly, and he does, leaning against the tank so the jellyfish float behind him like strange moons. "smile for me, sun."

he does, a soft smile that makes his cheeks puff out again, and you take the picture, then another, and another, because you can never ever have too many photos of him looking happy. he also poses for you, V signs, pretending to swim, pressing his hands against the glass like he's trying to touch the creatures on the other side.

"your turn," he says, taking the phone from you, his fingers brushing against yours. he steps back, finding the right angle, and you feel suddenly shy under his gaze, even after all this time. "look at me, beautiful."

you flush a bright pink at the nickname, but you look at him anyway, and he takes the photo, then beckons you closer. "come here, i want one with you actually looking at the jellyfish."

you stand in front of the tank, and sunoo positions himself behind you, his arms coming around your shoulders, his phone held high to capture you both with the ethereal creatures floating behind you with one hand and his other in a V sign. he’s so close you can feel his heartbeat pulse against your back, a steady thrum that makes you want to close your eyes and lean into him forever.

"perfect," he whispers, taking the shot, and then he doesn't move away, just holds you there in the blue light, swaying slightly as if you're underwater too, floating together in the dark.

the next section is your favorite, or at least it becomes your favorite when you see sunoo's reaction to it. it's a tunnel tank, a clear acrylic tube that curves through a massive aquarium filled with sharks, rays, and schools of larger fish. the light filters down from above in rays of blue-green, and the creatures swim all around you, above you, beside you, making you feel like you've been submerged in their world.

sunoo walks slowly, his head craned back, his mouth slightly open in awe. a large sea turtle passes beside you, its flippers moving in slow, ancient strokes, stopping for a split second in front of you before swimming off again. sunoo grabs your hand, squeezing tight.

"did you see that?" he whispers, like speaking too loud might disturb the magic. "it looked at me. it definitely looked at me."

"it was checking you out," you tease, and he laughs, the sound echoing softly in the tunnel. "you're very handsome, you know. even sea turtles notice.”

"shut up," he says, but he's beaming, his eyes sparkling in the filtered light. he spins you around suddenly, making you squeak in surprise, and then he's taking photos of you with the fish swimming behind you, telling you to pose, to smile, to look mysterious.

"like you're a mermaid," he instructs, and you try to give him your best ethereal look, which dissolves into giggles when a small fish darts past your face, making you jump.

sunoo lowers the phone, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "you looked so scared of that tiny fish."

"it was fast!" you defend, but you're laughing too, leaning against him in the middle of the tunnel while sharks glide overhead like silent shadows.

then you spot the perfect opportunity. there's a section of the tunnel where the glass curves outward, creating a dome, and beyond it is the largest shark tank, filled with grey reef sharks that circle with lazy, powerful grace. the lighting here is more dramatic, darker, with spotlights that make the water look deep and mysterious.

"sun," you say, grabbing his arm, an idea forming. "go stand there. i want to take a picture."

he looks at you, questioning, but obeys, walking to the spot you pointed him to. he stands there, looking uncertain but willing, his hands clasped in front of him.

"now," you say, trying to keep your voice steady through your growing smile, "pretend you're scared. like the sharks are terrifying you."

his eyebrows rise, and then understanding dawns on his face, followed by a playful smirk. "you want me to act scared?"

"yes! like a dramatic, horror-movie scared. hands on the glass, mouth open, eyes wide, the whole thing."

sunoo shakes his head, laughing, but he plays along. he presses his palms against the acrylic dome, his eyes going wide in an exaggerated expression of terror, his mouth opening in a silent scream. he looks back at you over his shoulder, making sure you're getting the shot, and you snap the photo, then another, your laughter making your hands shake.

"more dramatic!" you encourage, and he commits fully, pressing his face against the glass, his body language all fear and desperation while a massive shark swims past behind him, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding in front of its tank.

the contrast is perfect. sunoo looking comically terrified while the shark looks almost serene, and you're laughing so hard you have to lower the phone, leaning against the tunnel wall for support. sunoo drops the act, his face breaking into a grin, and he jogs over to you, taking the phone to see the photos for himself.

"i look ridiculous," he says, but he's grinning, scrolling through the shots. "this one is actually kind of good, though. look at my face, it looks so real."

"you're a natural actor," you say, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. "we need to print that one. frame it."

"absolutely not," he says, but he's still smiling, sliding the phone into his pocket before taking your hand again. "i'll allow it only if we get one of you looking scared too."

"i'm not scared of anything," you boast, and he raises an eyebrow, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"what about spiders?"

that shuts you up immediately. you pout and shove him gently, and he laughs, swinging your hand as you continue through the tunnel, the sharks still circling above you like silent guardians of this underwater world.

the rest of the aquarium passes in a blur of colour and light. you see clownfish nestled in anemones, their orange and white stripes bright against the neon tentacles. you watch a octopus change colors, shifting from brown to white to red as it moves across its tank, and sunoo is fascinated, asking questions to the nearby attendant, his curiosity endless and endearing.

there's a touch pool where you both roll up your sleeves and dip your hands into the cool water, feeling the rough texture of starfish and the slippery smoothness of small rays. sunoo yelps when a ray swims over his fingers, its skin like velvet and muscle, and you laugh at his expression, the way his eyes go wide and delighted.

"it tickled," he explains, his cheeks pink, and you lean over to kiss his cheek, right there in front of the families and children, because you love him and you don't care who sees.

by the time you reach the end of the exhibits, your feet are tired but your heart is full, overflowing with the memory of sunoo's expressions, his laughter echoing in the dark rooms, the way he held your hand so gently through every turn and never once let go.

"ready for the gift shop?" he asks, and you nod, letting him lead you toward the bright lights of the exit area, where shelves of plush sea creatures and postcards await.

the gift shop is overwhelming in the best way, filled with stuffed animals and keychains and books about marine life. sunoo immediately gravitates toward a display of plush sharks, picking one up and making it dance in front of your face.

he sings the theme tune of jaws, the shark bumping against your nose, and you laugh, taking the plush from him and hugging it to your chest.

"he's cute," you admit, and sunoo's eyes light up.

"should we get him?"

"we don't need more plushies," you say, even though you do really want the shark. your apartment is already filled with stuffed animals from various dates and trips, each one with a memory attached.

"but look at his face," sunoo says, taking the shark back and holding it up to his own, mimicking its expression. "he's begging to come home with us."

you laugh, but you shake your head, moving toward a display of keychains instead. there are tiny acrylic ones filled with glitter and shaped like different sea creatures, like seahorses and fish and tiny turtles. you pick up a pair that match, two small whale sharks in a fish tank shaped keychain, water and blue oil making it float.

"these are cute," you say, and sunoo appears beside you, the shark still in his hand. he looks at the keychains, then at you, and his expression softens into something so tender it makes your breath catch.

"matching ones?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"if you want," you say, suddenly shy, holding one of the keychains out to him. "unless you want the shark instead."

sunoo looks at the shark in his hand, then at the keychain you're offering, and sighs softly. "the shark is cute, but matching keychains..." he takes the one from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. "i like the idea of us having matching things. something you carry with you every day, you know?"

your heart squeezes, tight and warm. "yeah," you whisper. "i know."

he pays for them at the counter, insisting despite your protests, and the cashier smiles at you both, probably used to seeing couples buying matching souvenirs. outside, the afternoon has turned to evening, the sky painted in shades of pink and orange as the sun begins to set.

sunoo hands you your keychain, the liquid and charms inside catching the light and scattering it in tiny sparkles across your palm. he attaches his to his own keys, which he pulls from his pocket, and holds them up so the fish dangle together, spinning slowly.

"now we're connected," he says, his voice soft, looking down at you with an expression that, fittingly enough, holds the entire ocean in its depths. "even when we're apart, we'll have these."

you look at your matching keychains, at the man who bought them for you, at the way the sunset makes his eyes look like they’re glowing, and you feel so full of love you think you might burst with it.

"thank you, sun," you say, standing on your toes to kiss him, soft and sweet, right there in the parking lot of the aquarium. his arms come around you, pulling you close, and when you pull back, he's smiling so brightly it makes the whole world feel like it's been put back together.

"thank you for today," he says, pressing his forehead to yours. "for every day, actually. for being here with me."

"i wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you tell him, and you mean it with every fiber of your being.

he takes your hand again, your new keychains swinging together between you, and you walk toward the train station as the stars begin to appear above you, already planning which photo you'll print as a polaroid first, already memorising the way he laughed and smiled at everything you passed, already knowing that this day will live in your heart forever, preserved like the sharks in your keychains, bright and beautiful.

when you get home, you immediately flop down onto the couch like a starfish. you sigh in exhaustion, your eyes closing. because of this, you don’t even notice the shark plushie sunoo places onto the table quietly, a little gift for you for making his life so much better.