engene reblogs

01. …act like he’s annoyed when you cling to him in public, but never move away.

he’ll be like “ugh, why are you like this,” while literally adjusting his arm so it wraps around you better. his face is straight but his ears are bright pink. if anyone teases him about it, he’ll just say “she’s cold.” you’re not. he just likes having you close.

02. …refuses to share his stuff with the members but hands you his hoodie like it’s nothing.

jay once asked to borrow it and got a straight up “no.” you yawn once and he’s already taking the hoodie off the hanger. he’ll drape it over your shoulders all dramatic and then act like he didn’t just give you his favorite hoodie of all time. you’re the exception, always.

03. …makes fun of your music taste and then secretly adds all your favorite songs to his playlist.

he’ll say that it “doesn’t even match the vibe” while still letting it play. then two days later you catch your comfort song sitting in his “late night skate” playlist. don’t ask questions. just know he listens to it when he misses you.

04. …looks like he’s not listening when you talk, but remember every little thing.

you’ll mention craving strawberry milk one time, just randomly, and the next time you see him, he’s handing you one like it’s nothing. doesn’t even say a word. just gives it to you and keeps walking, because of course he remembered. and right before he turns away, he leans in and kisses your cheek like it’s just routine.

05. …let’s you put rings or hair clips or stickers on him and pretends he doesn’t care.

but the second you leave, he looks at them in awe for a weirdly long time. one time you stuck a pink bunny sticker on his phone case and he never took it off. when someone pointed it out, he said “oh i didn’t notice.” he definitely did.

06. …be brutally honest about everything except how much he loves you.

he’ll roast your outfit, your movie taste, even your sneeze — but the minute someone else teases you? oh this man turns into your personal defense lawyer. “shut up, she’s literally perfect.” and he says it so casually, like it’s just a fact.

07. …sees you across the room and tilts his head with that slow, lazy smile like he’s already yours.

he won’t wave. won’t call your name. just that look. that quiet smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. like he’s not even surprised you caught him staring. he’s been staring.

08. …fake complains whenever you lie on top of him, but won’t let you move.

he’ll be like “can’t. breathe.” and act like you’re crushing him even though he literally pulled you into his lap in the first place. he’ll rest his chin on your head and scroll on his phone like it’s the most normal thing in the world. this is his happy place.

09. …sends dry, low effort texts like “ok” and “lol” but lights up the second he sees you.

he’s not the best at texting, just short replies, random memes, and the occasional “you up?”but in person? oh he’s all warmth. smiling before you even say hi, pulling you into a hug that lasts a little too long, like he’s been waiting all day. sometimes he brings you your favorite drink without saying a word. he’s just better at showing he cares when you’re standing right in front of him.

10. …secretly takes videos of you just doing random things because he thinks you look cute.

he literally has a camera roll full of you tying your shoes, yawning, even downing a energy drink like it’s a wildlife documentary. and he’ll never admit it. you’ll just find them by accident one day and he’ll get all flustered and go “don’t look at those.”

11. …gets jealous in the pettiest, quietest ways.

he won’t really say anything, but you’ll notice he gets real focused on his phone the second someone else makes you laugh. when you ask what’s up, he shrugs and says “nothing”, but then he’s suddenly sitting closer, casually reaching for your hand and resting his on your thigh like it’s no big deal. he’s not mad, just reminding you where your attention should be.

12. …does everything to keep up his cool guy idol image but completely melts when you call him pretty.

he’ll have his arms crossed, sunglasses on, trying to act all unbothered — but the second you say, “hoon you look so pretty today” with that smile on your face, he’s hiding his face behind his hand and trying not to smile. he’ll mumble something like “don’t say that” but you can literally see him glowing. he loves it. especially when it’s from you.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

He loves the way his nickname rolls off the tip of your tongue, it's so addictive and he wants to record it so that he can play it again and again, even if your tone is one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignores your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You roll your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hate Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he has on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moves swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulls you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world does Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you pout at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hasn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he sees you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asks, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally follows you around school whenever he sees you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a couple,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, follows you around, talks about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groan, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He places a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouts, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huff, “i’m leaving,” you announce as you turn away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bends down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirks, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — so close to just moving in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spits the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knows you guys aren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he has to hear it again.

It takes you a while before you process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you say his name that really breaks it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumble when he breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath as you look up with hazy eyes.

He chuckles, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders drop almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifts his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they land themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he places a chaste kiss on your lips again and again.

You are in for a long ride.

"hi oppa." you say, keeping your voice light.

there's a brief pause on the other end, the kind that tells you he's already clocked something being different.

"where'd you go?" he asks.

its not sharp or accusing. heeseung never sounds like that. instead, his voice carries quiet confusion, like he's standing in the middle of a familiar room and suddenly realized one piece is missing.

you start walking again, glancing around instinctively even though there's nothing unusual in sight. "i stepped out." you reply. "just wanted to take a walk and spend some time outside today."

another pause follows, longer this time.

"you just left." he says slowly, as if he's replaying the last few minutes in his head. "i went to the kitchen and you weren't there."

the image forms effortlessly in your mind—heeseung standing there with a glass in his hand, scanning the room once, then twice, brows drawing together when he realizes you didn't just duck away for a moment. the thought makes something warm twist in your chest.

"yeah." you say softly. "that was kind of the point."

you hear him exhale through his nose at your confession.

"did something happen?" he then asks you.

the question lands gently, but there's weight behind it. heeseung has always been like this, attentive in a way that feels less like watching and more like listening. he doesn't ask unless he's already noticed something.

"no no." you answer quicklyto reassure the eldest. "nothing bad."

"you sure?"

you hum, letting the sound linger as your gaze drifts across the street ahead of you. people pass by without a second glance, wrapped in their own lives. "i promise."

silence stretches once more, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. you know he's deciding whether to push further or trust your words.

"you don't usually leave without saying anything." he says eventually, quiet but honest.

you slow your steps. "i know."

"so… why today?"

you take a breath, shrugging your shoulders slightly. "i just wanted a day to myself."

when heeseung speaks, there's faint disbelief in his voice, softened by something fond. "by yourself?"

"mhmm."

he lets out a small laugh, under his breath. "since when do you get days like that?"

you smile. "exactly."

another pause, and then his tone shifts, growing more careful. "is it because of us?"

"no." you say quickly, meaning it. "not in a bad way. i love you guys. you know that."

"i know. " he answers without hesitation.

"but it's always loud." you continue, explaining yourself in gentle honesty albeit shyly. "someone's yelling, someone's messing around, someone's bumping into me or stealing my stuff. and i love that most days. i just... wanted one day where no boys are screaming or roughhousing around me. something like a solo date."

you hear heeseung chuckle softly, warmth threading through the sound. "okay, yeah. that's fair."

"despite how much i love you all," you add with a small smile. "i just need a chill day."

he goes quiet again, and you can almost picture him nodding to himself.

"you could've told me." he says at last.

"i know. but if i did, someone would've insisted on coming with me."

"i would've." he says plainly.

you laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. "i figured."

"i can still come." heeseung offers. "we don't have to talk. i'll just walk with you."

the thought lingers for a moment—him beside you, presence steady and familiar, knowing when to fill the silence and when to let it breathe. it's tempting.

but you shake your head slightly, even though he can't see it. "i really appreciate it oppa. but today, i think i just need… me."

the pause this time feels heavier, but not unpleasant. when he speaks again, his voice is calm, accepting.

"okay." he says. "i get it."

relief eases through you.

"just—be careful." he adds immediately. "watch your surroundings. don't block out everything with music. text me when you stop somewhere."

you roll your eyes, smiling. "you sound like a dad."

"someone has to." he replies, amusement clear in his tone. "can't let jay be the only one can i?"

you laugh again. "fair."

"if anything happens." he continues, voice firm now, "you call me. even if you think it's nothing."

"i will."

"and if you get tired—"

"i'll take a taxi."

"or if someone bothers you—"

"i'll leave."

"or if you change your mind—"

you soften. "i'll let you know."

heeseung exhales quietly, like he's finally letting go of a thread he's been holding too tightly. "okay."

for a moment, neither of you moves to hang up. your footsteps and the faint sounds of the dorm fill the line, grounding in their own ways.

"have a good day." he says gently. "you deserve it." the words settle into you, warm and steady.

"thanks." your smile widens. "don't let them destroy the place."

he laughs softly. "no promises."

you end the call and slip your phone into your pocket, the weight of it reassuring instead of intrusive. as you start walking again, the world feels open in a way it hadn't just moments ago—not because you're alone, but because you're understood. cared for enough to be worried about, and trusted enough to be given space.

you put your headphones on, press play, and finally let the day carry you forward.

an hour passes more easily than you expected. by the time you push open the door of the café, the world already feels gentler, like it's agreed to meet you halfway. a small bell chimes overhead, light and welcoming, and warmth wraps around you immediately—the scent of coffee and sugar, soft music playing low enough that it feels like a secret rather than a performance. the place is tucked away from the main road, narrow and cozy, with wooden tables and mismatched chairs, sunlight pooling near the windows like it's been invited to stay awhile.

you choose a corner seat, one with a view of the street outside, and shrug off your purse. your drink arrives soon after, steam curling lazily upwards as feel yourself fully settle. shoulders relaxing, thoughts slowing. this... this is what you needed.

your phone vibrates against the table just as you wrap your hands around the warm cup.

you glance down.

it's a call from sunoo this time.

you smile before you even answer.

"hi." you say softly, lowering your voice instinctively, like you're letting him into the café with you.

"hmm~ where'd our missing member go?" he asks, tone curious but gentle. there's no edge to it, no panic, just that familiar sunoo brightness threaded with concern. "you weren't in your room noona."

you glance around the café again, as if taking mental snapshots. "i'm out." you reply. "found a café."

"a café?" sunoo repeats, interest sparking immediately. "wait, like—cute café or sad beige café?"

you laugh under your breath. "definitely cute."

"okay, rude." he says, half teasing, half mock-offended. "without me?"

you shift in your chair, smiling. "i needed a little alone time."

there's a pause, but instead of the weight you felt earlier, this one feels… understanding.

"honestly," sunoo says, voice softening, "i get that."

you blink, surprised.

"sometimes i love everyone so much it makes my head hurt." he continues lightly as he left out a little groan. "and then i want to escape before i start snapping at people for breathing too loudly."

you laugh genuinly. "exactly."

"i could really use a day like that too." he admits. "just sitting somewhere pretty, pretending i'm mysterious."

you glance out the window with a cheeky smile, watching people pass by. "you'd last fifteen minutes."

"that's generous." he replies cheerfully. "ten, max."

you giggle into your drink, feeling warmth bloom somewhere deeper than the coffee. "... i felt a little bad leaving."

"don't." he says immediately. "seriously. you deserve it. we're… a lot."

"you said it, not me."

he laughs softly. "where is it?"

you look around again, taking it all in so you can describe it properly. "not that far from our dorm actually. it's small. wooden tables, plants everywhere. they have little handwritten signs on the counter. and the music's really quiet—like it doesn't want to interrupt your thoughts."

sunoo hums appreciatively. "sounds nice."

you look around the café, seeing a group of friends sitting together in another corner laughing and giggling together, and suddenly your missing your boys a little. "next time, i'll bring you."

"promise?" he asks, teasing but hopeful.

"promise."

he sounds pleased. "what are you drinking noona?"

"i got their hot chocolate." you answer. "it tastes like heaven and comfort."

"of course it does." he says. "that's your whole brand."

you laugh again, leaning back in your chair. "heeseung oppa already gave me the safety lecture, by the way."

"good." sunoo says without missing a beat. "but i'm still going to ask—you okay? is anyone bothering you?"

"no." you reassure him. "everyone's been nice."

"good." he replies. "but if someone does try something, remember what i taught you."

you grin. "from your sassing lessons?"

"exactly." he says proudly. "maintain eye contact. deliver one devastating comment. leave."

"what if i panic?"

"then just think of me judging them silently." he says. "that should give you strength."

you shake your head, smiling. "i don’t know how you’re like this."

"it's a gift." he replies easily. "text me a picture of the café later, okay?"

"i will."

"and don't rush." sunoo adds gently. "stay out as long as you want."

the words settle softly over you, like a blanket.

"thanks, sunoo." you say. "really."

"anytime." he replies. "enjoy your escape. we’ll still be loud when you come back."

you end the call with a small smile lingering on your lips. the café feels warmer somehow, the space a little more filled—not crowded, just… shared, in a quiet way.

you lift your cup again, watching the steam from your hot chocolate curl upward, and let yourself stay.

you end the call with a small smile still lingering on your lips, the warmth of it staying even after the screen goes dark. the café feels a little fuller somehow—not louder, not crowded, just gently occupied by the thought of home settling in your chest.

your muffin sits untouched beside your cup, so you finally reach for it, breaking off a piece and letting yourself eat slowly. crumbs dust your fingertips as you sip your drink between bites, the warmth of it spreading through you in a way that feels deeper than physical. outside the window, the street continues on at its unbothered pace, people passing by unaware of the quiet moment you’re having with yourself.

your thoughts drift back to the dorm without you meaning them to.

you picture the members scattered through the space you just left—someone sprawled across the couch, someone else pacing with headphones on, voices overlapping, laughter echoing down the hallway. being the only girl among them has always meant never really being left alone. not if they could help it. concern comes easily to them, protection even more so, woven into everything from casual check-ins to the way they instinctively notice when you’re missing.

from the eldest down to the youngest, it doesn't matter who it is—each of them carries that same quiet sense of responsibility toward you, expressed in their own ways. sometimes it's suffocating, sometimes it's overwhelming, but more often than not, it feels like something rare and precious.

you take another sip, smiling faintly to yourself. you're not trapped, you're not smothered.

you're cared for.

and as much as you need days like this—days of silence, warmth, and space—you're honored, truly, to be someone they look out for so fiercely.

you finish your muffin slowly, letting the moment stretch, knowing that when you return, the noise will be waiting.

and so will they.

you leave the café feeling lighter than when you arrived.

the warmth from the drink still lingers in your chest as you step back outside, the bell chiming softly behind you as the door closes. the air feels different now, brighter, or maybe it's just you. your hands are warm, your thoughts a little slower, your steps unhurried as you walk with no real destination in mind. the day is still yours, wide open, and you intend to keep it that way.

that's when you see them.

the park sits just a short walk away, tucked behind a row of trees, and from the edge of the path you catch sight of a small pond glinting under the sunlight. movement draws your attention. soft ripples, flashes of white and brown, and then you smile.

ducks.

they paddle lazily across the water, some clustered together, others drifting on their own, entirely unbothered by the world beyond the pond. something in your chest lifts at the sight of them, simple and unexpected, and the excitement bubbles up before you can stop it.

you detour immediately, ducking into a nearby convenience store and grabbing a small bag of bread, fingers already itching with anticipation. by the time you head back toward the park, you're smiling to yourself, clutching the bag like a small treasure.

you don't notice the voices at first.

they drift in from behind you, too loud and unfamiliar, cutting into the quiet you'd been holding onto your morning so far. it sounded like a group of university boys.

"hey pretty."

your steps falter.

another voice follows, laughter thick and unpleasant. "don't walk so fast. we're talking to you."

your shoulders tense as your body reacts before your mind fully does. you keep walking, eyes fixed ahead, pretending not to hear them even as your chest tightens.

"why you ignoring us?" one of them calls. "too good to answer?"

you swallow, grip tightening around the bag of bread. "no." you say, firm but quiet, not turning around. "leave me alone."

they don't.

their words keep coming, layered and relentless. comments about your looks, your body, the way you walk. mocking when you don't respond. laughing when you clearly want them to stop. nothing you can point to and say this is illegal, nothing dramatic enough to scream about, but enough to make your skin crawl, enough to make your pulse spike and your joy drain away piece by piece.

it feels invasive in a way that sinks deep, like they've reached into your day and smeared their fingerprints all over it.

you walk faster, heart pounding, every step heavier than the last. even when their voices finally fade, swallowed by distance, the tension doesn't leave you right away. it clings. it lingers in your shoulders, your stomach, your thoughts.

by the time you reach the pond, the excitement you felt earlier has dimmed noticeably.

you sit on a bench near the water, tearing the bread into small pieces with deliberate care, focusing too hard on the motion. the ducks waddle closer almost immediately, quacking softly, their presence uncomplicated and earnest. you toss a few pieces into the water, watching them scatter, and try to breathe normally again.

this is your day. you remind yourself. don't let this ruin it.

but the reminder feels thinner than it should.

you smile at the ducks anyway, even though it doesn't fully reach your eyes. you tell yourself you're okay. that nothing really happened. that you handled it. still, a dull ache sits in your chest, the aftertaste of something sour that won't quite go away.

your phone rings just then and you glance down.

jake's contact fills your screen, the picture of him smiling with his teeth staring back at you.

your chest tightens unexpectedly.

you answer before you can overthink it. "hey..."

"hey y/n." he says easily. "heeseung hyung mentioned you went out on a solo date today and i just wanted to check in. how's it going?"

you stare out at the pond, watching a duck shake water from its feathers. "it's good." you say, trying to sound casual. "really nice, actually."

you heard him hum on his end. "having fun?"

you nod to yourself even though he can't see it. "...yeah."

your voice dips at the end despite your effort. thinner, more tired than you intended.

"…you sound kind of off." he says.

you tear another piece of bread, smaller than the last. "just walked a lot."

"mm." he sounds unconvinced. "where are you right now?"

"at a park." you reply. "feeding ducks."

his tone brightens instinctively. "ducks? sounds fun."

you smile faintly. "it is. mostly..."

a pause settles between you.

"hey." jake says quietly. "did something happen?"

you hesitate, eyes fixed on the ripples in the water. the ducks quack again, almost impatient and nudging closer. you toss them more bread, watching the ripples distort their reflections.

"... just some guys earlier." you admit finally, but the words feel thin. you sigh before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out of you. "...wouldn't leave me alone..."

the silence that follows is immediate.

"what?" jake says, voice dropping in a question as if he wasn't sure he heard you correctly.

"it was just verbal!" you rush to clarify. "nothing physical. i said no and walked away. i'm okay."

"where are you?" he asks sounding tense.

"jake—"

"i'm coming. send me your location."

your heart stutters. "what? no—jake, don't."

there's an edge to his voice now. "why not?"

"because i don't want this to turn into something bigger." you say quickly. "i handled it. i'm not going to let what happened ruin today for me."

jake's breath comes out tight. "you shouldn't have had to handle it at all."

another beat. you can practically hear him weighing his options, concern wrestling with trust.

"i don't like this." he mutters.

you soften your voice. "i know. but i'm okay. really."

to distract him—and maybe yourself—you glance at the ducks again. one waddles closer than the others, head cocked, eyes bright.

"there's one duck here that's kinda like you." you add suddenly.

"…what?"

you huff a weak laugh. "same energy. keeps bumping into the others and acting like it didn't."

he lets out a short, disbelieving laugh despite himself. "that's soo rude."

"he's even got the same confused and bright look." you continue. "like he's just happy to be here."

you hear his breathing ease slightly on the other end.

"…okay." he concedes. "that does sound like me."

"see?" you murmur. "i'm fine. just feeding ducks."

another pause.

"okay." jake says at last. "i won't come. but listen to me."

you straighten unconsciously. "yes?"

"if anyone bothers you again, you call me." he says firmly. "immediately. i don't care about what i'll be doing in the moment."

"i will."

"i mean it." he adds seriously. "don't downplay anything."

your throat tightens. "i promise."

"stay around people." he continues. "don't walk anywhere isolated."

"i won't."

his tone softens just a little. "i'm proud of you for speaking and sticking up for yourself. don't let idiots think they can mess with you."

something warm presses behind your eyes as your grip on the phone tightens. "thanks."

"send me a picture of the ducks." he adds. "especially the one that's apparently me."

you smile, real this time. "i will."

you hang up, pocketing your phone and turning your attention back to the pond. the ducks crowd closer, greedy and unbothered, and you laugh quietly, tossing the last of the bread into the water.

the weight from earlier hasn't disappeared, but it doesn't own you either. you sit there a while longer, watching the ripples spread and fade, letting the steady presence of life around you pull you back into the moment.

by the time the ducks have had their fill, the bag of bread empty and your fingers dusted with crumbs, you feel a little steadier than you did before. the water ripples lazily, feathers settling, the world easing back into its rhythm. you stand from the bench and stretch, brushing your hands together as you glance around the park one last time before moving on.

your stomach reminds you that ice cream exists.

the stand is just a short walk away, a small, cheerful thing with a faded menu board and a line of people clustered near the cart. you join them easily, ordering your favorite without hesitation. when the man finally hands you a cone off your choice and you smile to yourself, feeling like the day is slowly stitching itself back together.

your phone rings for the forth time and you let out a soft, almost fond sigh this time as you glance down.

sunghoon.

you barely have time to lift the phone to your ear before his voice cuts in, sharp and unyielding.

"come home. now."

you freeze mid-step, nearly stumbling as your body reacts before your brain does. "what—?"

"i'm not joking." he continues, voice firm and barely restrained. "get your ass back to the dorm right now."

you stare at the pavement, ice cream melting slowly down the cone. "sunghoon, what are you talking about?"

"don't." he snaps. "don't play dumb y/n."

"hey—" you try to interrupt, but he barrels right over you.

"i don't want to hear it. just tell me where you are and come home."

your confusion turns into a groan of realization. "oh my god." you mutter. "jake told you, didn't he?"

he doesn't deny it. "you think i'm just gonna sit here knowing some guys were running their mouths at you and do nothing?"

you let out a groan. "sunghoon, i'm fine! i handled it. they were just being assholes. nothing happened!"

"what did they say."

the way he cuts in makes you stop walking again. "…what?"

"tell me exactly what they said to you."

your face twists uncomfortably. "sunghoon, it's not—"

"i'm not playing y/n." his voice drops a few decimals. "tell me. word for word."

you hesitate, heart sinking. you hadn't planned on reliving it. hadn't wanted to give it more weight than it already took from you. but his silence on the other end is expectant, coiled.

"…asked why i was alone." you admit finally, quieter now. "wouldn't stop talking..."

the line goes very still.

"…anything else." he asks, dangerously calm.

you swallow. "…they commented on my body. said stuff when i didn't answer. laughed when i told them no..."

there's a sharp breath through his teeth. "i swear to god,” sunghoon mutters, more to himself than you. "if i ever see those guys—"

"sunghoon."

"i'm gonnapunch the living shit out of them." he snaps, anger flaring fully now. "who the FUCK do they think they are? don't those small dicked idiots have mothers or sisters?? they don't get to make you uncomfortable and walk away like it's nothing."

"sunghoon, please calm down."

his breathing is audible now, uneven, furious. "this is exactly why i want you home. because i'm not gonna sit here knowing that happened and do nothing about it."

"i'm not a child." you argue, walking again, careful not to drop your ice cream. "i said no. i left. i'm safe."

"that doesn't make it okay." he fires back. "i don't care how tough you are, i'm not gonna risk it happening again."

"but they might not even show up again! and this happened like at least an hour ago!"

"no." he says flatly. "either you come home, or i'm coming to you. tell me where you are."

you stop dead. "you're being dramatic."

"i don't want to hear it." sunghoon's voice rises just a touch. "i'm not letting this go. not when someone tried to mess with you."

the intensity of it hits you then—not control, not anger aimed at you, but something raw and fiercely protective. it takes you off guard enough that a soft, incredulous laugh slips out.

"why are you laughing?" he demands.

"because." you say gently, "my ice cream is literally melting, and you're threatening bodily harm over the phone."

"i'm serious y/n. come home."

"no." you say again, calmer this time. "i'm not coming back yet."

silence crackles between you.

you soften. "you're really upset about this, huh?"

"obviously i'm upset." he snaps. "no one messes with our girl like that."

the words hit harder than anything else he's said.

our girl.

your chest warms, something tender blooming where the earlier tension sat. you open your mouth to respond when suddenly—voices. overlapping and familiar.

"sunghoon—"

"give it here—"

"hyung you're going a bit overboard—"

a few sounds of protest, and then the line goes dead.

you lower the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen in confusion before snorting softly to yourself. shaking your head, you shrug and continue walking, licking your ice cream as it drips down your fingers.

ten minutes pass and your phone rings again.

you answer, already smiling. "yes?"

"don't say anything." sunghoon mutters immediately.

you bite back a laugh.

"jake and sunoo talked to me." he continues, begrudging and stiff. "apparently i'm being… too intense."

"maybe just a tad bit." you tease.

he sighs, long and resigned. "they said to let you have your day. since that's what you wanted."

you giggle softly. "thank you."

"but i still don't like it." he grumbles.

"i know." you say kindly. "but it means a lot to me. really."

there's a pause, then his voice firms just a teeny bit again. "be home by eight."

"eight??? sunghoon—"

"no ifs or—"

"ten." another voice cuts in faintly from his end.

heeseung.

sunghoon scoffs. "fine. ten. but that's final."

you sigh dramatically, smiling despite yourself. "fineee. pinky promise i'll be back by ten."

he hums, begrudgingly but somehwat satisfied. "good."

"and… thank you." you add quietly. "for worrying."

"don't make it weird." he mutters, but the edge is gone now. "just… don't give us reasons to panic."

you smile. "i'll try."

the call ends, and you tuck your phone away, finishing the last of your ice cream as you walk. the day stretches ahead of you. still yours and still intact, gently guarded by voices waiting at home.

and you don't mind that at all.

the store smells faintly like fabric softener and something sweet you can't quite place.

it’s small, tucked between a bookstore and a florist, with warm lighting and wooden racks that soften everything they touch. knitted sweaters hang neatly along the walls, textures inviting, colors gentle. you trail your fingers over sleeves as you walk, letting your pace slow again after the intensity of the last call.

you stop in front of two sweaters. one is cream-colored with small embroidered strawberries scattered across the front, bright and playful. the other is a soft pastel blue, dotted with white daisies that feel calm and familiar, like something you'd wear on a quiet afternoon with nowhere to be.

you lift one, then the other, holding them up to the mirror, tilting your head back and forth.

this is harder than it should be, you think to yourself, just as the familiar tune of your ringtone plays out again.

you don't even look at the screen—you already know. you huff as a grin curves onto your lips as you answer. "you know," you say lightly, "this is not what people mean when they say a relaxing day."

a low chuckle comes through the line. "then you should probably brace yourself," jay replies. "because there are definitely more calls coming."

you laugh softly, leaning your shoulder against the rack. "i figured."

for a moment, neither of you rushes to speak. there's a comfortable quiet instead, filled with faint sounds from his end—movement, maybe the clink of something being set down. it feels easy. steady.

eventually, you flip the script. "so," you say, adjusting the sweaters on your arm. "what are you up to?"

"me?" jay hums. "cleaning up the kitchen."

that alone makes you chuckle. "of course you are."

"someone has to." he replies with a groan. "the others are… being themselves." you can hear the care tucked beneath his words.

"you should've seen the commotion earlier." he adds. "sunghoon was pacing like a caged tiger."

you sigh quietly. "yeah… i can imagine."

there's a small pause, then jay's voice lowers, careful and measured. "hey. don't be too upset about how he reacted earlier, ok?"

you blink, fingers stilling on the knit fabric.

"i know he was intense." jay continues gently. "and dramatic... and a little over the top demanding you to come home." a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself.

"but honestly?" he goes on. "we all reacted the same way when we heard. sunghoon was just… more loud and vocal about it."

you listen, letting his words settle. "try to see it from our side." he says softly, like he doesn't want you to be upset at them. "hearing that some people talk to you like that, treat you in a way none of us ever would? it messes with us. bad." your heart beats a little faster at that.

"it's not about thinking you can't handle yourself," jay continues. "we know you can. it's just… the idea that anyone would make you uncomfortable like that... that's what got to us."

you exhale slowly, the tension you hadn't realized you were holding easing out of your shoulders. "yeah." you say quietly. "i understand."

"sunghoon just doesn't know how to sit with that kind of anger, he goes straight into protect mode. he cares."

you nod, even though he can't see it. "i know. i wasn't really mad. just… surprised at that moment. i knew he meant well."

"that's fair."

there's another pause—lighter this time.

"for what it's worth," jay speaks up, "i was kind of on his side at first. i would've preferred if you came home."

you glance down at the sweaters in your hands, listening.

"but," he adds, "i also know you're not fragile. you're tough. you stand your ground. and you've never hesitated to call any of us when it actually matters."

your grip tightens slightly around the knit fabric.

"we've all been working hard for this comeback," jay says, voice steady. "you included. so yeah… you deserve time to breathe without us hovering over you like you're going to disappear."

a warm smile spreads across your face. "thank you."

"don't get used to it. we still hover." that makes you laugh.

"speaking of," he hums, "our brave girl deserves her favorite dinner tonight. tell me what you want."

you blink, caught off guard. "you don't have to—"

"i want to." he cuts in easily. "so?"

you hesitate, suddenly shy. "…your curry."

his voice is warm when he replies. "good choice... what are you doing right now?" he asks.

you lift both sweaters again, glancing at your reflection. "i'm at a clothing store. i found two cute knitted sweaters and i can't decide."

"send me a picture." jay says immediately.

you do, snapping a quick photo and sending it over and a few seconds pass. "the daisy one."

you tilt your head, looking down at the sweater he chose. "yeah?"

"mmm. looks simple and soft, and i bet it'll be really pretty on you."

you look at it again, seeing it differently now. after a moment, you smile. "okay. i'll get that one." you head to the counter, sweater folded neatly over your arm. "thanks for helping me decide."

"anytime." jay replies. "go enjoy the rest of your day."

"i will." you promise.

the call ends, and as you step back outside, shopping bag swinging lightly at your side, you feel it again—that quiet reassurance in the air that makes the space around you feel safe.

the sun is already dipping low by the time you find yourself wandering again, the sky painted in soft gradients of pink and gold. the air has changed—cooler now, brushing gently against your skin, slipping through the sleeves of your jacket until you instinctively wrap it tighter around yourself. it feels like evening in the way that makes everything quieter, slower, more reflective.

you stop beneath a row of cherry blossom trees, their branches heavy with blooms, petals catching the light as they sway. a few drift down lazily, brushing past your shoulders, settling briefly in your hair before falling to the pavement. you stand there longer than you mean to, just breathing it in.

it's been a good day. a really good one (if you ignore the small bad parts).

you think about the café, the ducks, the sweater folded neatly in your bag. about laughter breaking through moments of tension, about voices on the other end of your phone that never quite let you feel alone even when you chose to be. as you start walking again, you decide you'll stop by the convenience store before heading home. snacks would be a nice surprise. something sweet, something salty. something for everyone.

your phone vibrates a few times in your pocket. you pull it out, already smiling when you see the name.

nikimeowra ৎ୭ noona i learned a new wwe move and im gonna try it on you as soon as u come back home

you stare at it for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose. "of course you did." you murmur, locking your phone and slipping it back into your pocket without replying.

it vibrates again.

and again.

and again.

with a groan, you fish it back out.

nikimeowra ৎ୭ i know u can see my messages what's taking you so long to come back reply coward

you snort, shaking your head. you're about to lock the screen again when your phone starts ringing.

you answer without hesitation. "no."

and then you hang up.

the laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, loud and utterly unrestrained. you're still giggling when your phone rings again.

this time, you answer, laughter still spilling over. "yes~?"

"WOW." niki's voice booms through the speaker. "okay noona. okay. now you're getting double slammed boxing style for real for real when i see you take one step into the dorm."

you wipe at your eyes, still laughing. "fine, then i just won't come home."

there's a beat of silence.

"…please don't." he says quickly. "i saw how sunghoon was earlier. he'll actually kill me."

you roll your eyes, affection curling warmly in your chest. "what do you want, riki."

you hear a dull thud on the other end. then another. rhythmic and heavy.

"i'm bored." he admits, punching the boxing bean bag you have at home. "you aren't here for me to bother."

"oh, poor you." you tease, turning toward the convenience store. "utterly tragic."

"you're fun to mess with." he continues, unfazed. "you just let me. the hyungs yell."

you scoff. "i yell at you to stop."

"yeah," he replies easily. "but you never mean it."

you laugh softly. "aww. you miss me that bad?"

"what? no." he denies immediately. "it's not like that."

you grin. "mhmm. sureee."

there's a brief huff on the other end. you know that sound. you know him too well.

"i miss you too." you say with a grin. "my adorablest maknae in the whole wide world~"

"i'm a grown man." niki protests.

"nahhh. you're my baby foreverrr."

"ugh." he mutters, clearly pretending to hate it. but he doesn't argue again.

you push open the door to the convenience store, the familiar chime greeting you as cool air washes over your face. "i'm buying snacks for everyone." you tell him. "want anything specific?"

he's quick to answer what he wants.

"okie." you move down the aisles, picking up snacks you recognize easily, favorites you've memorized over time without even trying.

another loud punch echoes through the phone.

"wow, you're really going at that thing huh?"

"yeah." niki replies casually. "i'm picturing the asses who bothered you."

you choke, caught off guard at admittance almost drop the bag of chips you plucked off of the shelf in front of you. "what?"

there's a click of his tongue. "tch. yeah... not gonna lie, i was pissed too. it's literally my job to bother you. anyone else trying that can go fuck off."

you stand there for a moment, phone pressed to your ear, surrounded by shelves of snacks and humming refrigerators, heart suddenly too full.

"niki..." you say softly.

he yawns loudly, interrupting you. "be home soon."

and then the line goes dead.

you lower your phone slowly, staring at the screen in stunned silence before bursting into giggles, shoulders shaking. "that's so him."

you finish gathering the snacks, a lightness in your step when you head for the counter. outside, the sky has darkened just a little more, lights flickering on one by one.

you step back onto the street, bag rustling softly in your hand.

you really are loved by your boys. and tonight, you'll bring that love home with you.

by the time your phone reads 9:52 pm, the sky has fully settled into night.

streetlights glow softly, casting long shadows across the pavement as you slow your steps just enough to check your messages. right on cue—almost comically so—there's one from sunghoon.

hoonie ❄︎ 10pm

you huff out a quiet laugh mixed with a scoff, thumbs hovering over the screen before as if summoned by contrast, another notification slides in seconds later.

bambhee oppa ❀ ignore him. take your time.

you smile to yourself, warmth blooming easily in your chest as you slip your phone back into your pocket. you're already heading home anyway, turning onto streets that feel familiar in a way that goes beyond routine. there's a lightness in your step now—almost a skip—surprising you with how much you're looking forward to walking through the dorm doors again.

you needed today. desperately. but you missed your boys too.

your phone rings, and something in you already knows. you pull it out, grin widening when you see the name. "leaderrrrr." you sing softly as you answer.

jungwon laughs, the sound bright and fond. "are you on your way back anytime soon noona?"

"yeah, i'm like five minutes away. walking as we speak."

"good." he says, relief slipping into his tone before he clears his throat. "also, sorry about the others. i know that's probably not ideal for someone wanting a day to themselves."

you shake your head gently as you walk. "it's okay. honestly, i'd probably be the same if i were in your shoes and there were people bothering any of you."

he hums, thoughtful. there's a brief pause, then— "do you mind if i stay on the phone with you until you get here?"

"sure. everything ok?"

"the street near the dorms been weird lately." he says carefully. "just reports of a few trouble makers. i'll come down and wait outside for you just in case."

your heart softens instantly. "you don't have to—" you start.

"not up for debate." he says gently, firmly in that quiet leader way of his.

you smile, hurrying your steps a little. "okay... thank you."

as you walk, he fills the space easily. "so," he says and you can hear him shuffling on his end. "how did today feel?"

you think about it for a moment, the question settling. "it felt really good." you admit. "a lot of the places i went were new. but… every location kind of reminded me of you guys."

"yeah?"

"yeah... and sometimes i'd catch myself wishing i had you all with me. even though today was just for me."

jungwon laughs quietly. "see? enhypen's connected in spirit. even when we're not together." you smile at that. then his voice shifts as it steadies. "i'm sorry a part of your day wasn't ideal. i wish your future solo dates will be kinder to you." a pause. "but i'm really glad you still had a nice day."

"me too." you hum.

the dorm building begins to come into view. and just as he promised, there he was, standing near the entrance with his jacket zipped up and phone to his ear.

jungwon spots you at the same time you spot him, both of you breaking into wide smiles.

you hang up as you jog the last few steps toward him, bumping your head lightly against his shoulder the moment you reach him. "hi~"

"welcome back." he says just as happily, taking the plastic bag from your hand with ease and ruffling your hair affectionately. "goofy. let's get you upstairs."

you laugh, nudging him as you head inside together, the door closing behind you on a day that was yours and the home that's always waiting.

jungwon steps inside after you, slipping out of his shoes and the dorm greets you the way it always does, warm and loud in a comfortable way, alive with voices overlapping and movement everywhere. everyone's together, scattered between the living room and kitchen like they gravitated there without even thinking about it.

the first thing that hits you is the smell. you make a beeline for the kitchen, following it instinctively, and there's jay at the stove, sleeves rolled up, focused as he gives the curry one last stir.

you walk up behind him and tug lightly at the hem of his shirt, peeking around his side. "it smells really good." you say.

jay glances down at you, just as happy to see you. "welcome home." he replies, pulling you into a quick side hug. "dinner's done."

you lingered next to him a bit longer before padding towards the living room. jungwon is already there, passing the plastic bag of snacks around as the others crowd closer. "those are for after dinner guys."

groans erupt immediately.

"so cruel!" jake cries.

"welcome back." sunoo says brightly, patting the space beside him.

"we survived without you." heeseung adds dryly, earning himself a chorus of protests.

you grin at all of them. "barely, i'm sure."

as you start telling them about your day—about the café, the ducks, the sweater—you don't even notice sunghoon leaning closer until he reaches out and pinches your nose gently.

"from now on." he says, half joking, half dead serious, "i'm chaining you to the dorm and putting a tracking device on your phone."

you groan loudly but laugh. "please don't."

from across the room, you feel it before you see it.

niki's watching you with that look, the one that always means trouble.

"don't!" you start immediately, protests spilling out before he even moves.

too late. he's on his feet in seconds, darting forward and scooping you up effortlessly. "you had this coming!"

"NIKI—"

he slams you gently but dramatically onto the sofa, the impact knocking an oof out of you as you land sprawled across sunoo's lap who laughs, immediately carding his fingers through your hair like this is exactly where you belong.

"comfortable?" sunoo snorts.

"i'm never coming back next time." you groan, face pressed into a cushion.

sunghoon pinches your hip gently. "oi."

laughter erupts around you.

"she missed us." jake says smugly.

"who wouldn't." heeseung beams as he pats the back of your head as you sigh.

jay calls from the kitchen that dinner's getting cold, which finally gets you all moving. you sit up, fixing your hair, surrounded by hands tugging you back down and nudging you forward at the same time.

you enjoyed your day out alone, but nothing really beats being together and surrounded by your boys. even if they do always demand your attention and presence. it was their intentions that mattered, and enhypen definately had the best and rightest ones when it came to you.

author's note: hope you all liked it!! was really looking forward to releasing this one :3

reblog, like and comment if you liked this!

-twocups

☆⌒(>。<)

He doesn’t show it outwardly, of course. To anyone else, he still looks the same—eyes half-lidded, expression calm, like he’s tolerating your antics at best. Internally? The complete opposite.

He’s doomed, he deems.

Because while you go through your everyday life like this, kissing the scattered moles on his face like it’s a force of habit, he can feel himself reeling every time as you manage to find every single mark.

The one on the centre of his cheek,

Two along the bridge of his nose,

And his personal favorite, one he would rather die than admitting, near his lips.

He doesn’t stop you, that would be insane. Instead, he leans in. Subtly, so much so that you don’t notice. Or at least, he hopes you don’t. He’d close his eyes, breathe a little slower, as if to not scare you away.

And then he feels your warmth leaving his skin, and he almost pouts—he wishes to ask you for more, but the words die in his throat.

That's when an idea popped into his head.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

Your bedroom was dimly lit with only your bedside lamps on, the world quiets down as the moon rises. 

You lay your head on Sunghoon's chest, scrolling through your phone. Above you, Sunghoon dozes off, chest rising slow and steady with his arm around you, thumb gently rubbing on your back.

Sunghoon has never been happier.

You gaze up and see his eyes closed, breathing gentle. You prop yourself up on your arm and cradle his face with your other hand, lips landing on the moles on his nose bridge, under his eyes, and next to his lips. He hears you let out a small "Oh," and he hums in reply, eyes opening half-liddedly to gaze at you.

"How have I never seen this one before?" Your finger touches the mole on his neck, caressing it softly.

He closes his eyes again and shrugs like it's nothing. "It's been there all my life. I guess you've missed it this whole time," he bites back a smirk.

You narrow his eyes at him, and lean down to kiss it, and he lets out a sigh and pulls you closer, the action prompting you to fall softly onto the bed. 

"G'night," he whispers, pressing a small kiss on your forehead, and the two of you drift off into dream land.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

Something is not right, you can feel it in your bones.

First of all, you never miss his moles. You've traced every possible mark on his body, taking note of it and sealing it in your mind.

Yet when you're sprawled on the couch, TV playing your favorite romcom with your head on Sunghoon's lap, you reach for his hand to play with his fingers and lo and behold, a mole on his palm.

That wasn't there before. You swear by it.

You practically have the shape of his arms and hands memorised by the amount of times you shamelessly ogle at it. The lines of his veins, his pretty nail beds. He caught you one time, and his lips lifted into the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen. He chuckled then, hand wrapping around your waist. 

“Stare at them all you want, baby, they’re yours.”

You hit his chest, face hot.

"You have a mole on your hand?" He looks down, stares at the way your hands cradle his, and intertwines it with one of them—his thumb absentmindedly rubs your knuckles. "Yeah baby," his tone playful, “And here I thought you loved me,” he shakes his head. 

You frowned, untangling your hands to kiss his palm, before connecting them together once again. You thought nothing too much of it, eyes flickering back towards the TV. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's holding in a giddy smile. He can't believe his plan worked.

He must be a genius, a mastermind!

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

The following day, Sunghoon stood beside you, earnestly helping with the dishes. The last clink resounded in the kitchen as the last plate was placed in the drying rack. You bump your hip against his, and his head turns to look at you, eyebrow raising slightly.

You grin, drying your hands with a towel, “I have new facemasks we can try together,” you hand the towel over to him, and he takes it without question.

“Hmm,” he looks up to the cabinet, pretending to ponder as his hands wipe against the towel. 

He’d do anything, as long as it’s with you.

The thought lingers in his mind.

“My face does feel dry lately,” He waits for your reply, but all he’s met with is silence. He looks back at you to see your eyes locked on his hand. He follows your line of vision and he freezes.

His hand, smudged with ink that has yet to fade.

"Did a pen explode in your hand or something?" You questioned, curiosity edged in your voice. He gulped. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, it did,” He quickly replied, “I was doing physics problems and the pen bursted, so now my hand's all inked.”

You blink, and then slowly nod.

“Ookay. I'll go get the facemasks,” you turned around to walk over to the fridge. Internally, Sunghoon high-fives himself for coming up with an excuse in seconds. He should start an acting career, he thinks.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“How suspicious,” you mutter to yourself.

You're standing in front of the door to your shared bedroom, pondering on what you should do next—to barge in, or to peek?

You hear shuffling, and the sound of a cap being pulled off.

You cannot handle it any longer.

The door swung open, a loud bang resounded through the room—and the view you were met with was completely, utterly, atrocious.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“AHA!”

Sunghoon flinches. His back is facing you, marker on hand, and the other holding his sleeve up.

And on his bicep, a very fake, fresh mole.

"You've been drawing those moles!"

He stood there in silence—mouth slightly gaping in shock. He straightens up and sighed, putting the cap back on the marker. He raises both of his hands up, defeated, “Fine, you got me. Those moles were fake.”

You gasp dramatically, hand coming up to cover your mouth, “You’ve been lying to me. You’re a fraud!” And he sighs, hands dropping, “Alright alright, we get it.”

You grinned, sauntering over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. His arms immediately mirror your actions, wrapping around your body like it’s second nature. Your chin rests against his chest, and you tilt your head, "What'd you do that for though?" And he stammers a bit (from your adorable face, or from the fact that he needs to explain himself, he’s not too sure).

"I uhm," He swallows, ears getting redder, "I just wanted more kisses from you," He mumbles, voice getting softer and softer with each word. 

Your mouth gapes at him, before bursting into giggles at which he can't help but smile.

"You know," you start, "you can always ask for more kisses if you want, I have plenty. I have an abundant supply of it, it’d be a shame if it had such a low demand." He scoffs at that, still grinning. “I can’t do that, it ruins my whole mysterious persona,” he then proceeds to brush his hair back—to express this ‘persona’ of him, you suppose.

You roll your eyes and smile wider, arms unwrapping to hit his chest, but his hand catches yours, pulling it towards his face to press multiple kisses on your fingers. “You’re such a loser,” You mumble, to which he ignores.

You clear your throat in a dramatic manner, “Very well, if you despise my kisses so much, I might have no choice but to close this business of mine,” You move to leave his embrace, but his arms tighten around you, pulling you back.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours in an eskimo kiss. His grin is so wide, but he forces it into a pout. "I sincerely apologise, my lady. Please, do you have some kisses to spare?" You laugh at his words, and your arms move to wrap around his neck. "Mm, I suppose I do," You let out, to which he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

The day is slow, lazy in the way that makes time feel like it’s stretching just for the two of you. You were pressed against him, as usual, lips trailing from mole to mole, as if following a treasure map. He lets out a small grunt when your lips leave his skin, to which you laugh.

“Perhaps I've spoiled you too much.”

Yet you lean down anyway to press a kiss on his neck, right on the sensitive spot that never fails to send shivers down his spine. He holds you closer—like there’s room for space between the two of you. “Mm. that's on you,” He murmurs, completely relaxed, “I’m just too irresistible for you.” You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh, but you don’t retort. Because well,

“A commoner,” Queen Chaewon repeats, the word rolling off her tongue like something rotten, a distasteful aftertaste she can’t quite swallow down. She paces the length of the marble floor. “Months, Sunghoon. Months under our very noses. The laundry girl?”

“She isn't just a laundry girl,” Sunghoon says, his voice gravelly. His heart does a pathetic little flip in his chest just thinking of you—the way your fingers always smell of lavender soap, the way you’d steal quiet moments behind the east wing glasshouses just to press your forehead against his collarbone and breathe him in.

“Silence,” King Jaehyun barks from the mahogany desk, his posture rigid, eyes sharp hearing the audacity of his son. “You stand there looking like a disgraced boy when you are meant to inherit a kingdom. You’ve dragged the crown through the mud for a fleeting piece of distraction.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicker toward the corner of the room where two royal guards stand, their hands resting ominously on the pommels of their swords. He knows how this story goes. He isn't stupid. He’d read the histories, knew the lengths the crown went to preserve its bloodline, yet he’d still allowed himself the foolish luxury of falling.

He had convinced himself they could hide forever. That the dim lantern light in the abandoned armory was enough. That your soft, breathless giggles against his neck were louder than the whispers of the palace court.

God, he was so fucking naive.

“You have two choices, my son,” King Jaehyun says, leaning forward, resting his ring-adorned hands on the wood. The air in the room instantly grows suffocating settling into Sunghoon’s lungs. “And I suggest you think very carefully about the weight of your blood.”

Sunghoon swallows hard, his dry throat burning. “Name them.”

“First,” his father starts, voice completely void of warmth, “you renounce your title. You strip off the crest, step down from the throne, and leave these gates as a nobody. We strip you of everything. And the moment you step outside those gates together, the guards will hunt you both down and cut your throats in the ditch where you belong.”

Sunghoon’s blood turns to absolute ice. His breath hitches, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of his neck. “That’s not a choice.”

“Then listen to the second,” Queen Chaewon steps in, her tone almost sickeningly gentle. “You keep your crown. You take the throne, you marry the Lady of House Kang as arranged, and you fulfill your duty to this kingdom.”

“And her?” Sunghoon asks, his voice cracking, the composure he’d spent twenty years building fracturing into dust. “What happens to her?”

King Jaehyun draws a silver sword from its sheath on the desk. He walks over and places the heavy hilt directly into Sunghoon’s trembling hands.

“You kill her yourself.”

The room goes dead silent.

Sunghoon stares down at the silver blade, his reflection warped in the polished steel. His head spins. Kill you? The girl who used to mend his torn shirts in secret? The girl who had held his face in her small hands just last night, whispering that she didn't care about the consequences, that she only cared about him?

“If you choose the kingdom,” his father presses, step by step closing in, “you prove your loyalty by eliminating the weakness yourself. Right here. In front of us. To ensure no soft heart remains to ruin this dynasty.”

“No,” Sunghoon whispers, shaking his head, a sickening tremor running down his spine. “No, please—just banish her. Send her away, send her to the southern coast, she’ll never come back, I swear it—”

“Choose, Sunghoon,” the King snaps, his patience snapping. “Either the guards drag her in here and end you both, or you take the sword, do what a King must do, and save your own skin.”

Save your own skin.

The realization hits Sunghoon. He thinks of the execution block. He thinks of your frail body being dragged into the dirt, slaughtered like livestock while he dies beside you, leaving nothing behind but an erased legacy and two shallow graves. He thinks of the raw terror in your eyes if he let the guards butcher you both.

He closes his eyes, his breathing coming in shallow gasps.

He is a coward. Deep down, underneath the royal velvet and the sharp jawline, he is a terrifyingly selfish coward. He wants to live. He wants the power. He cannot—will not—die in a muddy ditch for a love that was doomed from the start.

“Bring her in,” Sunghoon chokes out.

The words leave his mouth like poison, burning his throat on the way out. Queen Chaewon offers an approving nod. The heavy oak doors creak open.

When you are shoved into the room by two guard captains, your knees hit the hard stone floor. Your hair is disheveled, your apron torn at the strap, but the second your eyes land on Sunghoon, the panic in your expression melts into heartbreaking relief.

“Sunghoon,” you breathe out, your voice trembling, reaching a hand out toward him. “Sunghoon, what’s happening? They—they grabbed me from the lower quarters—”

Sunghoon can’t look you in the eye. He physically can’t. His stomach churns, bile rising to his throat as he raises the silver sword, the weight of it suddenly feeling too much.

You freeze. Your eyes track the movement of the blade, then move up to his pale face.

“Sunghoon?” you whisper, the realization dawning on you so slowly, so painfully, that it shatters what little is left of his soul. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, his voice barely audible over the roaring in his ears.

“No—no, Sunghoon, look at me,” you sob, scrambling backward on your hands, but the guards step in, roughly grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to your knees, holding you pinned in place. “Sunghoon, please! It’s me! It’s Y/N!”

Tears blur Sunghoon’s vision, but he forces his grip on the hilt to remain steady. His parents stand behind him like silent vipers, watching, testing, measuring his worth by the blood he’s about to spill.

He steps forward. One step. Two.

“I loved you,” he whispers. “I really did.”

“Then don't do this!” you scream, desperate, hot tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, soaking into the collar of your dress. “Please, Sunghoon, don't leave me like this—don't—”

He doesn't let you finish.

With a sharp, agonizing intake of breath, Sunghoon closes his heart, leaning into the instinct of a prince trained to conquer, and drives the steel straight through your chest.

The sound of metal tearing through fabric and flesh echoes in the high-ceilinged room.

Your breath hitches in a wet gasp. Your eyes go wide, locked onto his, hands instinctively flying up to clutch at the blade embedded in your chest. Blood—warm, and crimson—gushes out, staining his white silk shirt, splattering across his knuckles, his face, his lips.

Sunghoon’s knees almost give out, but he holds the sword firm, watching the light slowly drain from your eyes. You lean into the blade, getting as close to him as possible, coughing up a drop of crimson that lands directly on his cheek.

“You... coward,” you choke out, a final whisper before your hands slip off the steel, dragging down his arms, leaving bloody smears in their wake.

Your head drops forward. Your body goes completely limp against the guards' grip.

Silence settles over the drawing room. Sunghoon pulls the sword back with a brutal slide, and your body slumps sideways onto the cold marble floor, pooling in red. His hands are shaking so violently he nearly drops the weapon. He stands there, drenched in your blood, smelling the iron, smelling the faint faint hint of lavender soap lingering underneath it all.

King Jaehyun steps up beside him, placing an approving hand on Sunghoon’s blood-soaked shoulder.

“Well done, my son,” the King says quietly, no remorse in his tone. “You are truly fit to rule.”

Sunghoon doesn't speak. He can’t. He just stares down at your lifeless form, at the small hand resting palm-up on the stone floor, forever waiting for him to hold it again.

He got his kingdom. He got his throne.

And all it cost was the only piece of humanity he had left.

⊹

There were seven of them.

Seven loud, annoying ass, inseparable boys who took up too much space at every party, every hallway, and every parking lot. They were always together, skateboards under their arms, half-finished coca-cola cans in their hands, laughter echoing too loudly through college apartments that definitely couldn’t fit all of them.

You really weren’t supposed to be part of them. Even thought they we’re weird at first.

The first time they saw you, you were standing alone at some shady off-campus house party.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter in low rise jeans and a baby tee, flipping your pink bedazzled Motorola shut and open again because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.

It was Sunghoon who noticed first. “Why is she by herself? She looks nice.” And then all seven of them ended up standing in front of you like a mildly intimidating boyband.

You don’t remember how, but that night you were adopted into their friendgroup.

You’d been with them ever since.

Especially Riki.

—

You and Riki were never stable.

You were either disgustingly in love or dramatically broken up. There was no in-between.

You’d ‘break up’ over anything:

Because he didn’t call you back fast enough. You helped another guy with his homework. He didn’t let you borrow his clothes. You told him smoking was unattractive.

And once because spilled an entire cup of Sprite on your Juicy Couture bag, which you spent your entire salary on.

You cried like a baby. He’d rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just a bag. Get a new one.”

You didn’t speak to him for a week.

The friend group suffered… Riki got quieter. You got meaner. The air felt heavy every time you were in the same room.

Until Jungwon snapped.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said, rubbing his temples. “You two are exhausting. Apologize. Now.”

You tried to act careless but you both folded in under five minutes and ended up in your bedroom.

—

You hated being called popular, but you weren’t invisible.

People knew you.

You had that early-2000s glow. Glossy lips, hoop earrings, low-rise everything. Professors remembered your name. Girls whispered about you. Boys stared a little too long.

Riki? He had baggy jeans sagged so low you could always see which brand of underwear he was wearing, Calvin Klein most days, sometimes something knockoff that you’d tease him about constantly.

“Pull them up,” you’d hiss in the middle of the mall, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking it higher. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He’d just grin, completely unbothered.

“Why? You don’t like my boxers?”

“I don’t like that everyone else can see them.”

He’d lean closer, smoke still lingering faintly on his breath. “I don’t care.”

And then he’d glance down at your hips.

Low rise jeans. A tiny strip of pink lace peeking out when you moved. Belly piercing glinting under the mall lights.

“Oh,” he’d mock, tugging lightly at the strip of your thong on your hip, making it snap back. “And that’s modest?”

You’d swat his hand away. “That’s fashion.”

“Mine is too.”

“You look homeless.”

“You look like a hooker.”

“I do not. You asshole.”

You’d both be smiling by the end of it.

—

It’s one of those perfect late mid-August afternoons.

The sun is low and orange. Everything smells like hot pavement, sunscreen, and cigarettes. The entire city feels outside, kids with scraped knees, girls in denim skirts, boys shirtless with skateboards tucked under their arms.

The skatepark is loud.

Wheels scraping. Laughter echoing. Music playing from someone’s brand new portable speaker.

The whole friend group is there and Riki insisted you’d come too.

His white tank top clinging slightly to his back from sweat. Wired headphones dangling out of the pocket from his jeans. A cigarette tucked behind his ear, which you hate.

Heeseung is beside him, attempting something reckless off a skating ramp.

They take turns.

They hype each other up.

They shove each other when one of them almost eats concrete.

You’re sitting on top of the half-pipe, legs dangling over the edge, flip-flops hanging loosely off your toes. The smallest top imaginable clings to your torso more lace than fabric, blue jeans sit dangerously on your hips, held in place by a big bedazzled belt.

Riki had absolutely hated the top.

“That’s not a shirt,” he said earlier.

“It is.”

“It looks like a bra.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“It’s hot for me too.”

“Then take your shirt off.”

He gave you a glare, you walked ahead anyway.

Now you’re bored.

Bored and slightly irritate because you’ve already watched him light up two cigarettes.

Two.

And you hate when he smokes. Hate the smell. Hate the way it makes his voice raspier. Hate how casual he is about it.

And he knows that, but he does it anyway. Which makes it worse.

He skates toward you suddenly, rolling to a stop between your knees. One hand presses to the ramp beside your thigh, the other still holding his board.

“You look grumpy,” he says, squinting up at you against the sun.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway.

Then he pushes off again before you can respond.

You sigh.

You’re melting. You’re bored. And you’re watching your boyfriend risk concussions for fun.

Amazing.

Then Heeseung has an even more amazing idea.

“Teach her something,” he says, nodding toward you.

Riki looks up immediately.

You narrow your eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He’s already skating toward you again.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. “It’s easy.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It is.”

“I’m wearing slippers.”

“Then take them off.”

You gasp like he’s insane.

He grins.

“Baby, I’ll hold you.”

Everyone’s watching now.

Jay whistles from somewhere near the fence. Sunghoon pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Sunoo is already smiling like something crazy embarrassing is about to happen.

“If I fall and ruin my outfit,” you warn, pointing a manicured finger at him, “I’ll kill you.”

He laughs. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You step onto the skateboard and it wobbles instantly.

You grab his hands.

“Why is it moving?”

“Because it has wheels.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He positions himself in front of you, holding both your hands firmly.

“Okay,” he says, focused now. “Just bend your knees a little. Then pop the tail and slide your foot up.”

“Pop what?”

“The back.”

“I don’t know what that means Riki.”

He laughs softly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

You glare. “You better.”

He counts you down.

“One. Two—”

You jump.

The board flips sideways instead of up.

Your foot lands wrong.

His grip slips and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the concrete with a very embarrassing thud.

There’s a split second of silence, then there’s Laughter.

Sunoo’s laugh is the worst. High and dramatic and absolutely unnecessary.

You sit up slowly, hair in your face, pride completely shattered.

Riki is crouching immediately. “Are you okay?”

You stare at him.

“Did you catch me?”

“I tried—”

“You did not.”

He bites back a smile.

You gasp.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

He fails. Just a little chuckle, but that’s it for you.

You stand up, brushing off your jeans dramatically.

“I’m done.”

“Baby—”

“No.”

You grab your slippers and stomp back toward the half-pipe.

Sunoo is still giggling when you sit down beside him.

“I’d like to see you try next time,” you snap.

Sunoo chuckles. “I would never fall like that.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I have natural balance.”

“You have natural dramatics.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

You both dissolve into a stupid little argument about who would survive longer on a skateboard.

It almost distracts you from Riki.

Almost.

Until you glance over and see some random guy offering Riki a joint.

And Riki… takes it?

Your stomach drops.

He laughs at something the stranger says. Throws his head back slightly. That boxy grin that made you like him in the first place.

Your jaw tightens.

Sunoo is still talking beside you.

“…and then I’d definitely land it because— helloo? Are you even listening?”

You aren’t. Your eyes are locked on Riki.

Then a girl loses control of her board and swerves straight into him.

She stumbles forward and Riki catches her.

One hand at her waist on instinct.

You feel it before you even think, that little sting in your chest.

He lets her go immediately.

“You good?” he asks casually.

She laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”

She lingers half a second too long.

That’s it. That’s your last straw. You’re already on your feet. Sunoo reaches for your wrist. “Wait—”

Too late. You walk fast, hips swaying, chin lifted, eyes low and dangerous.

Riki doesn’t even notice until you’re right in front of him.

You grab his arm and tug him away from the small group of strangers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I said what do you think you’re doing.” you repeat, quieter but sharper.

He genuinely looks confused. “Nothing?”

You look at the joint still between his fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach up, snatch it from him, drop it to the ground and grind it into the concrete with your heel.

“Are you serious right now?” he mutters.

“Oh, I’m serious.” you snap.

He runs a hand through his hair. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Your voice rises. “You’ve smoked, like, five cigarettes today. And now this? Oh and you’re just touching girls?”

His head jerks back. “Touching girls?”

“You literally had your hands all over her waist.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you had to grab her like that?”

“She was falling.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Keep it down,” he says under his breath. “Not everyone needs to know you’re mad at me again.”

That does it.

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?!” you fire back. “You weren’t embarrassed five seconds ago.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making a scene.”

“You’re smoking in front of me after I told you I hate it.”

He exhales hard. “It’s my choice.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s called free will,” he adds, clearly irritated now.

You stare at him.

“Right,” you say flatly. “So you just do whatever you want.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You were all up on her.”

“She bumped into me.”

“You didn’t have to hold her like that.”

He scoffs. “Like what?”

“Like—” You stop yourself before you say something dramatic.

He shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“Am I?” you ask quietly.

“Yes.”

Silence hangs between you. Then he makes the mistake.

He gestures vaguely at you.

“And don’t act like you’re not out here in that top all day.”

Your eyes widen.

“What about my top?”

“It’s too revealing.”

You laugh once. Sharp. Disbelieving.

“So now this is my fault?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what?” you cut him off. “That I deserve it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you thought it.”

He looks frustrated now. “You can’t tell me what I thought.”

“You can’t tell me I’m overreacting.”

“You are tho.”

Your face goes cold.

“Okay.”

You step back.

“Okay,” you repeat.

He frowns slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He grabs your wrist once.

“Don’t leave.”

“Whatever.” You say and you turn and walk away.

You expect footsteps. You expect him to call your name. You expect him to follow you like he always does.

You walk past the fence, the group of boys, past Sunoo’s wide eyes. And still nothing.

You finally glance back and your stomach drops.

He’s back on his board like nothing happened.

Like he isn’t supposed to chase you.

And that hurts more than the cigarette, more than the girl, more than the argument. Because in your head, he’s supposed to follow you and beg you to stay. But instead he just skates.’

—

By nine o’clock it’s almost completely dark, the last bit of orange fading out of the sky. Your room is lit by the glow of your TV, candles and the small lamp on your nightstand. You’re curled up in bed in soft pajamas, a plate of brownies balanced on your stomach while Clueless plays for what might be the hundredth time.

Your flip phone has been buzzing the last half hour.

Four missed calls.

Ten texts.

You’ve read none of them, you refuse to.

Then you hear A small tick against your window.

You pause mid-chew.

Another one.

And then a third.

You sit up slowly, pushing the plate aside and sliding out of bed. The floor is cool under your feet as you walk toward the window and pull the blinds apart.

Riki is standing in the street below, hands filled with tiny rocks to throw, looking up at your room like he’s been waiting for you to appear. When he sees your face, he waves casually, like this is completely normal behavior.

You stare at him for two seconds.

Then you shut the blinds and walk straight back to your bed.

Your phone buzzes again immediately.

You don’t check it.

A few seconds pass.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

You exhale sharply and shuffle back to the window, throwing the blinds open this time and sliding the window up.

“What?” you hiss down at him.

“You need to let me in,” he says like it’s obvious.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to you.”

“Too bad.”

He steps closer to the house, lowering his voice even though no one is outside. “Please, baby. I wanna make it up to you.”

You cross your arms against the windowsill. “Make what up? You didn’t do anything, remember?”

“Come on,” he tries again. “Are you really gonna let me stand out here looking like a fool?”

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He stares up at you, half offended, half impressed.

You hold his gaze for another second, then slide the window shut and drop the blinds again before he can argue. You get back into bed, pull the covers up, grab your brownie plate, and press play like nothing happened.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet.

Then you hear something strange. Not rocks this time, but a scraping sound. A shuffle. Something brushing against the side of the house.

You freeze.

The sound gets closer.

Your heart jumps as you sit up again just in time to see two hands grab onto your windowsill from the outside.

And then Riki’s stupid face appears.

You let out a sharp gasp and scramble out of bed as he hoists himself up, creased sneakers braced against the brick. He looks mildly proud of himself, slightly out of breath, hair falling into his eyes.

You slide the window open with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously, Riki?”

He doesn’t answer. He just swings one leg over the sill and climbs into your room like he’s done it a hundred times before, landing lightly on your floor.

“You’re insane,” you whisper-yell, shoving the window shut behind him. “My dad is literally going to kill the both of us if he finds out you climbed through my window.”

“He won’t,” Riki says easily.

“And you smell like smoke,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “If he comes in here—”

“He won’t,” he repeats, completely unbothered.

You stand there with your arms crossed, trying to stay angry while he casually looks around your room like he’s on a tour.

He glances at you slowly, eyes dragging from your messy hair to your pajama shorts. A lazy grin spreads across his face.

“Those make your ass look good.”

Your mouth drops open. “That’s what you have to say right now?”

“I’m just being honest.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

He walks past you toward your bed, picking up one of your pillows and tossing it aside before noticing the plate of brownies. Without asking, he takes one and bites into it.

“You made these yourself?” he asks through a mouthful.

“Yes.”

“They’re good.”

“They’re mine.”

He shrugs and flops down onto your bed like he belongs there, one arm behind his head, chewing lazily while Clueless continues playing in the background.

Your eye twitches.

“I’m still mad at you, Riki” you remind him.

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”

You stay standing by the window like you’re guarding it, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Riki, meanwhile, looks entirely too comfortable sprawled across your bed, one hand behind his head, the other reaching lazily for another brownie.

He watches you for a moment, amused.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He snorts softly. “Come sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“You weren’t nervous climbing up my house like a creep.”

He pats the mattress beside him anyway. “Baby.”

You hesitate, but you do it. Of course you do. You walk over and sit cross-legged on your bed, leaving a noticeable gap between you. You grab a pink heart-shaped pillow and hold it against your chest like armor, arms wrapped around it as a clear barrier.

Riki doesn’t look intimidated.

He slowly looks you up and down instead, gaze dragging over your shorts, your bare legs, your messy hair. He takes another bite of brownie, chews thoughtfully, then winks at you.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Your jaw drops.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You lean forward and snatch the plate of brownies out of his hands before he can grab another one. “Start talking,” you demand. “Or I swear I’m throwing you back out that window.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not strong enough for that.”

“I’ll get my dad to do it.”

He actually laughs at that, like the idea is ridiculous.

You glare harder.

He sighs dramatically and sits up, closing the space between you. The mattress dips as he moves closer.

He reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is warm and familiar, annoyingly gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “For what?”

He pauses half a second too long.

“For… making you mad.”

That’s it.

That’s the apology.

He doesn’t even fully know what he’s apologizing for, the smoking, the girl, the comment about your top, he just knows you’re upset and that saying sorry usually fixes it.

You try to hold your glare, but your grip on the pillow loosens.

This is how it always goes. One of you gets mad. The other gives a weak apology. And somehow it’s enough.

He watches your expression soften, just slightly, and that tiny shift is all he needs.

“Come here,” he says quietly, patting his lap.

You roll your eyes like you’re still annoyed, but you put the pillow aside and shift forward, settling onto his lap anyway. His hands come to your waist automatically.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts slow, almost careful, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling lightly into his black hair. For a few seconds, everything feels lke the argument never happened.

Then you wrinkle your nose and pull back slightly.

“Take your jacket off.”

He blinks. “What?”

“It smells like smoke.”

He smirks immediately. “If you wanted to undress me you could just say that.”

You don’t even entertain it. You grab his shirt and kiss him again just to shut him up.

He laughs against your mouth, hands tightening at your waist, and for now, at least, the fight is over.

Until he chuckles, he pulls back just slightly, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he talks.

“You know,” he mumbles, half smiling, “Sunoo told me to apologize.”

You don’t really listen, just give him another peck on his lips. “Hm?”

He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you again like it doesn’t matter. “He said I should just say sorry and you’d stop being mad.”

Your lips press together instead of moving with his.

“And?” you ask slowly.

“And it worked,” he says lightly. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

You freeze.

He tries to kiss you again, but you pull your head back this time.

“Are you kidding me right now?,” you say.

He frowns, confused at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You don’t know what you did wrong?”

He laughs a little, like this is harmless. “You were just in a mood.”

You slap his arm.

Not hard. But sharp enough.

“Ow— what was that for?”

You’re already climbing off his lap. “I actually can’t stand you.”

“What?” he repeats, genuinely lost.

“You didn’t apologize because you meant it,” you snap. “You just didn’t want me to be mad.”

“That’s the same thing y/n.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

He sits there, staring at you like you’ve switched languages mid-conversation.

You grab his arm and yank him off the bed. “Come here.”

“Why are you dragging me?”

“Because you’re leaving.”

He stumbles after you as you pull him toward the window again. “I just said sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” you fire back, pushing the window open. “You said sorry because Sunoo told you to and because you wanted me to shut up.”

“That’s not—”

“That is exactly what it was.”

He steps closer, trying to catch your wrist, trying to pull you back in like he did before. “You’re overthinking it.”

You shove his chest lightly. “Go.”

“Can you calm down for two seconds?”

“No.”

He leans in again like kissing you will solve it, like it always does. You put your hand flat against his chest and push him back.

“Get out.”

“Baby—”

“Go!”

He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated now. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“And you’re not making it a deal at all!” you shoot back. “Come back when you can take accountability!”

You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care if a porch light flicks on somewhere down the street. You’re too irritated to think about neighbors.

He glares at you for a second longer before finally swinging one leg over the sill again.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he climbs out.

“You’re stupid!” you yell back.

“You love me though.”

“Bye Riki!”

He drops down to the ground below with a dull thud and looks back up at you. “Throw my jacket!”

You grab it off your floor and hesitate for a second.

“It smells like smoke! Wash it out!” you shout.

“Just throw it y/n, Jeez!”

You toss it out the window a little harder than necessary. It hits him in the face before falling to his arms.

“And pull your up your goddamn pants, you loser!” you yell one last time before slamming the window shut.

He stands there for a second in the dim streetlight, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell.”

He pulls up his pants anyway, then he turns and starts walking.

Riki walks home with his jacket slung over his shoulder. His jaw is tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks at small rocks along the sidewalk. He replays the entire thing in his head.

He apologized.

Didn’t he?

He showed up. Climbed yout house. Said sorry. What else was he supposed to do?

He mutters under his breath, calling the whole situation dumb, ridiculous. Calling you dramatic.

You just crawl back into bed and press play on your movie again, rather relieved than angry.

Cher’s voice fills the room.

You reach for a brownie.

Your fingers hit an empty plate.

You stare at it.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day feels like nothing happened, it’s a Saturday and you’re at the mall with your friends, like usual

The mall in the center of the city is loud. Every store window is screaming SALE in red letters. Somewhere above them, a movie trailer echoes from the cinema entrance. The air smells like hotdogs, sugar, perfume samples, and fryer oil all blending into one.

Every time you guys go there to “just walk around”, someone somehow leaves with an empty wallet.

The vibe between you and Riki, though? Ice cold.

You walk slightly ahead when he’s near. Conversations split awkwardly around you two. You guys barely acknowledge each others presence. Everyone notices. No one says it yet.

You split up near the giant directory map in the middle of the mall.

Heeseung, Sunoo and you walk towards the arcade, immediately distracted by blinking machines and the sound of digital coins clinking. Jungwon and Jay walk off with one mission only, to eat every free sample the mall has to offer.

Jake, Riki and Sunghoon head towards the skate shop onsecond floor.

“Bro, I’m telling you, softer wheels are better for street,” Jake insists.

“Yeah, if you like going slow,” Sunghoon shoots back.

Riki barely speaks. He flips a board over, studies it, doesn’t see it.

He sees you in his head instead, standing at your window, yelling at him to come back when he can take accountability.

They check every board. Compare prices. Debate colors. In the end, none of them buy anything.

When they walk out into the mall hallway again, the crown hits them full force. Sunghoon stretches his arms above his head.

“So,” Jay says casually. “You and her gonna keep pretending you don’t know each other?”

Riki clicks his tongue immediately. “She’s mad at me.”

“For?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know, man.” Riki snaps, defensive already. “I apologized.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Riki insists. “I climbed her window. I could’ve fallen and died bro. I said sorry.”

Jake squints at him. “For what?”

Riki opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“…For making her mad?”

Sunghoon actually laughs. “That’s not an apology, idiot.”

Riki runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She was yelling about the joint, and the cigs, and that girl at the skate park. But I didn’t even do anything with that girl. I just caught her because she bumped into me.”

Jake raises a brow. “By her waist?”

Riki hesitates. “…On instinct.”

“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “And then?”

“And then she dragged me to the window and kicked me out ‘cause I said Sunoo told me to apologize,” Riki mutters.

Both boys stare at him.

“You told her…” Jake says slowly, “that someone else told you to apologize.”

“I was joking. “And at least I apologized? I don’t see the problem.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how you ever got her to like you, man.”

Riki scowls. “I literally climbed into her room. What more does she want?”

Jake grins. “Maybe don’t touch random girls in front of her.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you caught her,” Sunghoon says dryly. “You couldn’t even catch your own girl when she fell.”

Riki groans. “It’s not like that.”

Jake smirks. “Then go tell her that.”

“She’ll just get mad again.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Get better at apologizing.”

Meanwhile the boys are discussing how to apologize to girlfriends, you’re at the arcade, trying to win a stuffed animal.

The arcade is chaos, neon lights flickering, pixelated sound effects, the constant clink-clink of coins dropping somewhere. A racing game to your left, a dance machine behind you, and right in front of you—

The claw machine.

Inside it sits the biggest stuffed cat you’ve ever seen. Grey and white, oversized head, cute smile. It’s ridiculous. You want it immediately.

You shove another coin in.

Heeseung leans casually against the machine beside you. “You’ve been trying for like ten minutes.”

“I almost had it,” you mumble, eyes locked on the claw.

Sunoo crouches dramatically beside the glass. “Manifest it. Tell it you love it.”

“I do love it,” you whisper.

The claw drops.

Grabs the cat.

Lifts it.

For one beautiful second it hangs there.

“YES!”

Then slips.

The cat falls back into the pile.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you curse under your breath, stepping back in disbelief.

Heeseung laughs softly. “Y/n, did something happen between you and Riki?”

You don’t even look at him. “He was being a dick.”

Sunoo nods immediately. “Newsflash.”

Heeseung hums in agreement. “Fair.”

No further questions.

You shove another coin in aggressively. The claw misses completely this time and you kick the machine.

Heeseung gently nudges you aside. “Let me.”

You cross your arms, pretending you don’t care. “You’re gonna lose.”

The claw lowers.

It grips the stuffed cat around its head.

Lifts it.

Carries it over to the hole.

Drops.

The cat tumbles into the prize slot.

You and Sunoo scream like he just won an Olympic medal.

“NO WAY—” you laugh. It’s bigger than you expected, soft and and perfect.

Heeseung smiles, brushing his hands off. “All skill.”

He takes the cat from the slot and hands it to you with a small grin. “For your suffering.”

You hug it immediately. “You’re my favorite person.”

He just laughs.

ou three walk out of the arcade a few minutes later, the mall lights feeling calmer after all the flashing machines. You hold the stuffed cat in your arms like it’s something precious, its giant head resting against your shoulder.

Riki notices you.

From halfway down the hall, he spots you walking toward them, oversized plush cat in your arms, laughing at something Sunoo just said.

And unfortunately for his pride, you look cute. And pretty. And happy.

It does something uncomfortable to his chest.

The groups meet in the middle of the walkway.

Sunghoon claps his hands once. “We’re gonna go find Jungwon and Jay before they eat themselves sick.”

“Too late,” Heeseung says dryly.

They all start walking, Sunghoon and Jake up front debating something again, Sunoo walking slightly behind them.

Heeseung slows just enough to walk beside Riki for half a second.

He gives him a small nod toward you.

Go.

Riki exhales through his nose.

Fine.

He steps up, walking beside you.

You don’t look at him.

He notices that immediately.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual. “Where’d you get that?”

Your eyes stay forward. “Arcade.”

“Obviously.”

“Heeseung won it for me.”

There’s something about the way you say it, so simple, that hits him wrong.

He glances at the stuffed cat.

Heeseung won it… not him.

“Oh,” Riki mutters. “Cool.”

You finally lift it slightly, showing him the cat’s stupid stitched smile. “It’s my new boyfriend.” You say it teasingly.

But Riki doesn’t smile.

Something annoyed flickers across his face before he masks it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice calm but a little tight. “He looks like he’d treat you better.”

You glance at him briefly, catching that tone.

“It doesn’t climb through windows uninvited,” you reply.

He huffs softly. “Yeah. It also doesn’t have legs.”

You shrug. “Less likely to run around with random girls then.”

He goes quiet for half a second.

Then he nudges the cat’s head lightly with his fingers. “He looks dumb.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You really replacing me with a stuffed animal?”

You keep walking straight ahead.

“Depends. Can he apologize properly?” You say, then you step up your pace to nonchalantly walk away from Riki.

You eventually find Jungwon and Jay exactly where everyone expected them to be, around a food stand with tiny paper cups in their hands.

Jay is mid-sentence when the group walks up. “I’m telling you, if you circle back in ten minutes they forget your face.”

Jake nods seriously, holding up another sample. “This one’s teriyaki chicken. Third time.”

Heeseung sighs like a tired parent.

“Are we leaving?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says.

Everyone slowly makes their way toward the mall exit.

Riki walks quietly behind everyone.

You do too.

By the time the glass doors slide open, the air outside is thick and warm, with the hum of traffic and laughs from somewhere down the street.

Sunghoon and Jake walk ahead, arguing about the best type of flipphone. Jay tries to convince Jungwon to stop at a convenience store on the way. Sunoo keeps poking Heeseung about the stuffed cat like it’s some kind of trophy.

You and Riki walk a few steps behind them again.

For a minute, neither of you says anything.

Your arms are wrapped around the giant plush cat, its soft head resting against your shoulder. Riki glances at it once, then looks ahead at the group, then down at the pavement like he’s building up the courage to say something.

Finally, he exhales and speaks.

“Y/n...”

You glance at him.

“I was being an asshole yesterday.”

You blink slightly.

He keeps walking beside you, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the ground instead of on you.

“And… I’m sorry,” he adds. “For the cigarettes. And the joint. And that girl at the skatepark.”

You don’t interrupt.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“And I’m sorry for not knowing how to say sorry,” he admits. “I know I kinda… suck at that.”

For a moment you just look at him.

Then a small giggle slips out before you can stop it.

He looks over immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling a little. “I just like hearing you apologise”.

He shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“I maybe shouldn’t have kicked you out the window.” You say hesitantly.

He snorts. “Maybe?”

“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He slides his hand out of his pocket and slowly, almost carefully, he lets it brush against yours. When you don’t pull away, his fingers curl around your hand.

The group ahead of you turns a corner toward the quieter streets leading back to your neighborhood.

You glance at Riki. “Do you wanna come to my house?”

His eyebrows lift. “You gonna let me in trough the door this time?”

You roll your eyes. “If you behave.”

“I always behave, baby.”

You scoff softly. “Mhm… just pull your pants up before my parents see you.”

⊹

extra note: I rlly hate the ending, I had writers block…

Sunoo walked over, a bright smile breaking across his face as his hands moved fluidly into sign. “You’re going to school with me,” he signed, the relief clear in his eyes.

A wave of warmth washed over you. Smiling back, your fingers quickly spelled out your response “I’m excited!”

Stepping onto campus, the immediate weight of curious stares hit you. You could see the subtle shifts in posture, the hands raised to cover mouths, and the rhythmic motion of students whispering to one another—words you couldn't hear, but could feel all the same.

Noticing your tension, Sunoo quickly stepped into your line of sight, his hands moving with calm, reassuring precision “Don’t be nervous.”

Giving your shoulder a quick, protective squeeze, he led the way through the crowded hallway toward the counselor’s office to sort out your class schedule and learning accommodations.

"Sunoo! Hi," the counselor greeted warmly, looking up from her desk.

Sunoo offered a polite smile, leaning slightly against the counter. "This is my sister, Sunha," he said, introducing you proudly. "She's transferring here, and I wanted to ask about setting up her accommodations—she's deaf."

"Oh my goodness, of course!" the counselor replied, her expression softening into a welcoming smile. "Your mother called and informed me ahead of time, so everything is already arranged. We've assigned a dedicated sign language interpreter who will attend all of her classes with her to translate the professors' lectures in real time. We just recommend that she sits in the front row so she always has a clear line of sight."

"Okay! Thank you so much!" Sunoo said, giving the counselor an appreciative nod.

Turning to you, he caught your eye and gave a gentle, familiar gesture with his head, signaling for you to follow him out into the hall.

As you stepped into the lecture hall, the ambient hum of the room quieted down. The professor paused mid-sentence, turning toward the door. "Oh, hello there," he said warmly.

Sunoo nudged you gently, catching your attention before bringing his hands up to sign “This is your class. The counselor said to sit in the front so your interpreter has a clear view of you.”

You gave a quick nod, glancing up at the professor before turning back to Sunoo with a slight, hesitant look.

He understood your silent plea instantly. Turning to the professor, Sunoo spoke up: "She just needs a little help finding her seat."

"Ah, of course," the professor said, smiling warmly as he gestured toward an open spot near the front. "You can sit right over there, next to Sunghoon."

Sunoo’s eyes briefly flicked toward the desk—and the dark-haired boy sitting there with an unbothered, indifferent slouch—before he turned back to face you. Bringing his hands up, he signed carefully “He says you can sit over there, next to Park Sunghoon.”

You walked down the aisle toward the front row, every step feeling a little heavier under the weight of Sunghoon’s quiet, intense presence. He was slumped back in his chair with his head down, resting on his arm, looking completely detached from the world around him—and clearly not paying a single second of attention to the lecture.

Slinking into the empty chair beside him, you carefully set your bag down, trying your best not to make a sound or disturb the heavy, distant vibe radiating off him.

As you settled into the desk, a young woman took the seat directly across the small aisle from you, giving a warm, reassuring smile. She signed smoothly “Hi, I’m your interpreter for this class.”

Relief washed over you. You signed a quick thank you back, turning your attention toward the front of the room as she seamlessly began translating the professor's spoken lecture into steady, fluid hand motions.

For the first fifteen minutes, everything went smoothly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could feel Sunghoon shift.

He slowly lifted his head from his arms, dark hair falling messy over his forehead, and turned his gaze toward you—or rather, toward the rapid, silent conversation happening between you and your interpreter. His sharp eyebrows knitted together in a slight frown, his icy expression unreadable as he watched your hands move.

Catching his stare, you froze for a second, your hands hovering mid-air. You gave him a small, polite nod, hoping to diffuse whatever annoyance he might have had about the distraction.

Sunghoon didn't nod back. He just stared at you for a heartbeat longer with that cold, unbothered expression, before slowly rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his seat, his eyes tracking every movement of your hands with quiet, unreadable curiosity.

"You're the girl from my physics class," Sunghoon said, stepping up to your table in the library.

You kept staring down at your open textbook, completely oblivious to his presence.

"Hello??" He took a step closer, raising his hand to snap his fingers right near your ear. Still, nothing. You just flipped to the next page, scanning your notes.

Sunghoon scoffed, a spike of irritation breaking through his usual cool facade. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a sharp, bitter edge.

Reaching out, he tapped his knuckles heavily against the wood of your desk to force your attention.

boardwalk-level vibrations rattled through the table, making you jump. You spun around, wide eyes locking onto his annoyed scowl. You looked at his moving lips in confusion, completely unable to process what he was saying.

"Hey! Back off!"

Sunoo came rushing over, stepping firmly between you and Sunghoon, his posture defensive. He glared up at the campus heartthrob with pure heat. "What is wrong with you? She wasn't ignoring you—she's deaf!"

Sunghoon froze, his sharp expression shattering in an instant. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes flicking from Sunoo's angry face down to you. The harsh, arrogant air around him completely vanished, replaced by an awkward, uncomfortable silence as the realization sank in.

Sunoo didn't wait for a response. He turned his back on Sunghoon, dropping to eye level with you. His hands moved in swift, practiced sign “Are you okay? Did he scare you?”

You blinked, still taking in the heavy tension in the air. “I’m fine,” you signed back, your hands steadying as you looked past your brother’s shoulder. “I just didn’t hear him.”

Behind Sunoo, Sunghoon stood completely still. The annoyance that had been written across his features was entirely gone, replaced by a rare, uncomfortable flicker of shock. His hands lingered awkwardly near his pockets, his eyes shifting from your moving fingers up to your face. For a guy who usually owned every room he walked into, he suddenly looked entirely out of his depth.

"Look, I..." Sunghoon started, his usual smooth tone rough around the edges. "I didn't know."

Sunoo didn't even look back at him. "Just leave her alone, Sunghoon. She doesn't need your attitude on her first day." He reached down, grabbing your bag, and gestured for you to stand.

You gathered your notebook, giving Sunghoon one last, tentative glance. He was still staring, his jaw slightly set, but his dark eyes were no longer cold—just unreadable, tracking your every move as Sunoo led you away into the quiet stacks of the library.

"She's deaf, huh..." he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet library.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging a hand down his face as a heavy wave of embarrassment washed over him. He felt like a complete idiot.

The signs had been right there the whole time. The front-row seating, the girl sitting right next to you moving her hands in steady rhythm, the way you kept your eyes glued to her instead of the professor—it all made total, blinding sense now. He had just been too wrapped up in his own world, too busy acting like the untouchable campus cold-guy, to even notice what was right in front of him.

He looked over toward the direction you and Sunoo had disappeared in, the sharp, arrogant edge he usually wore completely shattered. For the first time in a long time, Park Sunghoon was genuinely at a loss.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

You were walking down the main hallway toward your next class when a shadow stepped directly into your path. You stopped short, looking up to find Sunghoon standing in front of you, looking decidedly less composed than usual.

Before you could react or look around for Sunoo, he reached into his bag, pulled out a thick spiral notebook and a black pen, and scribbled something across the blank page in quick, messy handwriting.

He flipped the notebook around, holding it up at your eye level.

I'm sorry. I didn't know you were deaf.

You looked at the handwritten note, then up at his face. The usual arrogant, cold demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a tense, genuine anxiety as he waited for your reaction, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You pulled a pen out of your pocket, reaching over to tap the paper. Sunghoon held the notebook steady, watching intently as you wrote directly beneath his dark handwriting.

It's okay.

You handed the pen back and looked up, giving him a small, quiet smile to reassure him.

Sunghoon looked down at the short message, then back up at you. The visible tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible softening around his eyes. He gave a brief, hesitant nod, taking the notebook back as the busy hallway moved around the two of you in silent motion.

He paused for a second, looking like he was debating whether to turn around and leave, but instead, he flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and started writing again.

I'm Sunghoon, by the way.

He turned the page toward you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, waiting.

You took the pen from his hand once more, the tips of your fingers brushing slightly against his. You leaned over the paper and wrote your name in neat, clear script Sunha.

When you showed it to him, a faint, almost hidden smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare break in his usual icy mask. He pointed to your name on the paper, then tapped his chest, giving you a firm, silent nod of acknowledgment.

Just then, the bell for the next period vibrated through the floorboards under your feet. Students began moving past the two of you in a fast, chaotic current.

Sunghoon reached out, lightly grabbing the strap of your backpack to steady you as someone bumped past. He held up his notebook one last time, writing quickly See you in physics.

With a final look that felt far gentler than anything you'd expected from the campus douchebag, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing in the hallway with a strange, warm flutter in your chest.

You watched his tall frame weave through the bustling crowd of students until he vanished around the corner, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto your face.

The campus douchebag—the guy everyone warned you to stay far away from—had just stood in the middle of a packed hallway, nervously writing in a notebook just to apologize to you.

It was a stark contrast to your old school, where people preferred to stare, laugh, or completely ignore your existence. Sunghoon’s handwriting had been messy, and his delivery was awkward, but the effort was real. For the first time since transferring to XO University, the knot of anxiety in your stomach finally began to loosen.

During break time you went to the cafeteria with Sunoo, seeing Sunghoon sitting down somewhere with a cheerleader. Sunoo followed your gaze and then looked back at you "he's no good" he signs.

"Why?" You ask. "He's a douchebag, he broke so many girls' hearts," Sunoo signed back swiftly, his hands moving with sharp, protective energy. "He acts like he's too good for everyone on this campus. Trust me, Sunha, you want to stay as far away from Park Sunghoon as possible."

You looked back across the crowded cafeteria. Sunghoon was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the table while a brightly dressed cheerleader giggled and leaned into his side. He looked completely unbothered, just like he had in class, occasionally tossing out a brief word or smirk that kept her entirely hooked.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Sunghoon suddenly turned his head. His dark gaze swept over the crowd, locking right onto you.

The girl beside him kept talking, but Sunghoon completely stopped paying attention to her. His eyes stayed fixed on you, a flick of something quiet and unrecognizable passing through his expression.

Sunoo tapped your shoulder sharply to break your line of sight, blocking your view of him. "Eat your food," Sunoo signed, giving you a stern, big-brother frown. "I mean it. Don't waste your time thinking about him."

You stared down at your tray, your mind racing. A douchebag? It was hard to reconcile Sunoo’s warnings with the guy who had just stood nervously in the middle of a chaotic hallway, carefully scribbling apologies in a notebook just to make sure you were okay.

Looking back toward his table, you caught him glancing your way again—ignoring the girl still chatting excitedly beside him. The moment his dark eyes met yours, he didn't give that aloof, arrogant smirk Sunoo talked about. Instead, he just held your gaze for a quiet, subtle second before giving you a small, almost imperceptible nod.

You looked back at Sunoo and brought your hands up, signing back carefully “He seemed nice to me.”

Sunoo sighed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. "That's how he gets people, Sunha. He acts cool and distant, does one bare-minimum nice thing, and suddenly everyone falls for it. Just... be careful, okay?"

You nodded to appease your brother, but as you picked up your fork, you couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe Sunghoon really was a total jerk to everyone else—but the extra effort he made just to communicate with you felt far too genuine to fake.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of unfamiliar classrooms and new faces, but your mind kept wandering back to that brief exchange in the hallway—and the notebook page with your name written in dark ink.

When the bell for your final period rang, you walked into the physics lecture hall, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest. The room was already half-full. Taking a breath, you headed down toward the front row.

Sunghoon was already sitting at his desk. He wasn't slumping or resting his head on his arms this time. He was sitting up straight, looking directly at the door as if he’d been waiting for you to walk in.

As you approached, he reached down and pulled the chair next to him out, leaving the spot completely clear for you.

You walked over and sat down, pulling your notebook out of your bag. Beside you, Sunghoon didn't say a word. Instead, he slid a folded piece of paper across the smooth wooden desk, resting it right next to your pencil case.

You opened it up. Written in his messy, unmistakable handwriting was a short message:

Did you eat lunch?

You looked over at him, surprised. Sunghoon kept his face stoic, looking straight ahead toward the professor's podium, but you could see the faint, subtle tension in his jaw as he waited for your reply.

You picked up your pen and quickly wrote beneath his line:

I ate with my brother.

Sliding the paper back across the desk, you watched his reaction out of the corner of your eye.

Sunghoon unfolded the note, his eyes scanning your words. A subtle shift went through him, his brows knitting together in brief thought before he picked up his pen and started scribbling again.

Your brother? The guy who yelled at me in the library?

He slid it back to you. You couldn't help the small, amused smile that tugged at your lips. You leaned over the desk and wrote:

Yes, Kim Sunoo. He's very protective.

When Sunghoon read it, he let out a short, silent huff through his nose—a mix of a sigh and an amused chuckle. He glanced sideways at you, his dark eyes softening as he tapped his pen against the desk and wrote one last response:

I noticed. He looks like he wants to fight me.

You read the words, and before you could hold it back, a soft, bright laugh escaped you.

Sunghoon, who had been watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, completely froze.

Seeing your face suddenly light up—the way your shoulders shook slightly, your smile bright and entirely genuine, and the way your eyes crinkled with amusement—hit him like a sudden physical blow to the chest. For a second, the busy lecture hall around them just faded away. He swore his heart actually skipped a beat, stumbling over itself in a way he had never felt before.

He quickly faced forward, swallowing hard and gripping his pen a little tighter.

The untouchable, arrogant guy who never gave anyone the time of day was suddenly painfully aware of how fast his pulse was racing just from making you smile. He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to hide the faint, embarrassed heat creeping onto his ears as the professor walked into the room.

Even as the lecture began and your interpreter took her seat, Sunghoon found his eyes drifting away from the chalkboard, stealing quiet, subtle glances at you for the rest of the class.

You stood by your locker, placing a thick textbook into your bag, completely unaware of the heavy footsteps approaching behind you.

Suddenly, a tall, broad shadow loomed over you. You turned around, bumping back against the cold metal doors as three heavy-set guys from the school’s football team completely cut off your exit.

"Would you look at that? A hot new girl all alone," the guy in the varsity jacket said, leaning one hand against the lockers right beside your head, trapping you. His lips were moving fast, a sleazy, confident smirk plastered across his face. The two guys behind him laughed, crossing their arms as they backed him up.

You looked from one guy to the next, your stomach dropping into a tight knot. You couldn't read his lips—he was talking too fast, slurring his words together, and standing way too close.

“I don’t understand,” you signed quickly, shaking your head, your eyes wide with rising panic as you backed up as far as the lockers would let you. “Please move.”

The guy just chuckled, mistaking your frightened silence and fast hand movements for playfulness. "What, playing shy? Don't be like that, sweetheart," he sneered, reaching a hand out to grab your wrist.

Before his fingers could even touch your skin, a hand clamped onto his wrist with a bruising force, shoving it roughly back.

"Touch her again and see what happens," a cold, lethal voice sliced through the hallway.

You looked past the jock's shoulder to see Sunghoon standing there. His dark eyes were absolute ice, his jaw clenched tight, and the relaxed, easy demeanor he usually wore was completely replaced by pure, terrifying rage.

"Why? You wanna have some fun with her instead?" the guy laughed, looking back to dab up one of his friends.

He didn't even get to finish the gesture.

Sunghoon’s fist connected solid and sharp against the guy's jaw. The impact echoed through the hallway like a crack of thunder, sending the jock stumbling sideways into the bank of metal lockers before crashing heavily onto the linoleum floor.

The hallway instantly fell into a shocked, suffocating quiet. The other two jocks backed up fast, their eyes wide as they looked between their friend groaning on the ground and Sunghoon, whose chest was heaving with pure rage. His knuckles were already turning red, his dark eyes pitch-black with fury as he glared down at the guy on the floor.

"Get up," Sunghoon spat, his voice deadly low. "Get up and say it again."

Neither of them moved. Realizing Sunghoon was out for blood, the two friends scrambled to haul their buddy up by his jacket, hurrying him down the hall while he clutched his bleeding lip.

Sunghoon stood there, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. He took a heavy breath, slowly letting the adrenaline settle, before he turned back toward you.

The moment his eyes landed on your wide, terrified face, the violent anger completely drained out of him. He looked down at his own bruised hand, then back at you, stepping closer with a rare, desperate urgency in his stance. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his notebook, and wrote in fast, frantic strokes before holding it up to you

Are you okay? Did they hurt you?

You shook your head quickly, letting him know you were unhurt, before bringing your right hand to your chin and moving it forward toward him.

"Thank you."

Sunghoon’s eyes widened slightly in realization. It was one of the few basic signs he had spent all of yesterday frantically looking up on his phone, and seeing you use it brought an immediate, visible wave of relief over his face.

The tense edge in his shoulders finally eased. He looked down at his bruised knuckles, then back up at your face, giving you a small, quiet nod. Taking out his pen again, he wrote at the bottom of the page in careful, clear letters.

Always. Let's get out of here.

He stepped beside you, placing himself firmly between you and the open hallway, and silently walked you all the way to the school exit to make sure no one else bothered you.

When you reached the front entrance, the cool afternoon breeze brushed against your face. You turned to Sunghoon, intending to wave goodbye, but he stopped at the top of the concrete steps, looking down at his hand. The skin over his knuckles was split and swelling, turning a angry shade of purple.

He noticed you staring at it and quickly tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, attempting to play it off with a dismissive shrug.

Before he could pull away, you reached out and gently caught his forearm. Sunghoon froze completely, his gaze snapping to where your small hand held his sleeve.

You unzipped the front pocket of your backpack, pulled out a small pack of tissues and a bottle of water, and motioned for him to sit down on the wide brick ledge near the entrance.

Sunghoon hesitated for half a second before obeying without a word. He sat down and reluctantly pulled his right hand back out of his pocket, extending it toward you. His hand was trembling ever so slightly—not from pain, but from how close you were sitting next to him.

You carefully poured a little water over a tissue to douse it, then gently dabbed at the faint smear of blood on his knuckles.

Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat. He kept completely still, refusing to move a muscle while his eyes stayed fixed on your profile—the focus in your expression, the way your dark lashes framed your eyes, and the sheer care in your soft touch.

When you finished, you tapped his palm to let him know he was good to go, looking up to catch his eye.

Sunghoon swallowed hard. With his left hand, he slowly pulled out his notebook and wrote one simple question before sliding it onto your lap:

Can I walk you home?

You glanced around the crowded schoolyard, knowing Sunoo was probably looking for you right now—and would absolutely throw a fit if he saw who you were with. But looking back at Sunghoon, sitting quietly on the cold brick ledge with his bruised knuckles and hopeful eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to turn him down.

You looked straight at him and gave a slow, gentle nod.

A subtle, breathtaking smile broke across Sunghoon's face—not his usual arrogant smirk, but a real, rare smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He quickly stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder, and pulled out his phone to type out a quick message on his notes app before holding the screen out for you to read.

I'll carry your bag.

Before you could even think to sign a decline, he was already reaching over and carefully lifting the heavy backpack from your shoulders. He adjusted the straps over his own arm, offering you a subtle nod toward the main gates.

As the two of you began walking side-by-side down the sidewalk, bathed in the soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun, you pulled out your phone and quickly shot a text to Sunoo

You: Heading home! Going to take a quiet walk by myself today, don’t worry about picking me up.

You slid your phone back into your pocket, matching Sunghoon's steady, comfortable pace as he kept himself on the street side of the sidewalk, keeping a close, protective guard over you the entire way.

The neighborhood was quiet, the autumn breeze rustling through the trees as the two of you walked in a comfortable silence. Sunghoon kept his pace slow, matching yours, occasionally checking his phone or notebook to write short thoughts to share with you.

Nice weather today.

Is your house far?

Don't worry about your bag, it's not heavy at all.

Each time he flipped the page to show you, you’d smile and type back on your phone or use simple signs he’d slowly begun to pick up on. Watching his stoic, intense demeanor melt away into thoughtful patience felt like discovering a completely different person than the one the rest of the school talked about.

As you turned down your street, you pointed toward a cozy, two-story house with a white fence at the end of the block.

Sunghoon’s steps slowed down as you approached the front gate. He carefully slipped your heavy backpack off his shoulder and handed it back to you. As your hands brushed over the straps, he held out his phone screen, showing a pre-typed note:

Thanks for letting me walk with you. I hope your hand didn't get too tired texting me.

You let out a soft, silent giggle, shaking your head before pointing to his wrapped knuckles and signing, 'Thank you for protecting me.'

He caught the gesture immediately, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. He gave you a soft nod, taking a step back toward the sidewalk.

Just as you reached for the gate latch, the front door burst open.

Sunoo stepped out onto the porch, his eyes widening in complete shock when he saw who was standing at the end of the driveway. His expression flipped from confusion to pure, unadulterated outrage in less than a second.

"What is HE doing here?!" Sunoo signed furiously, his hands practically flying through the air as he stormed down the porch steps toward the gate.

Your hands moved quickly, signing back to Sunoo with urgent, sharp precision before he could get any closer.

"He was walking me home! He saved me from a bunch of jocks that cornered me at school!"

Sunoo froze mid-stride at the bottom of the porch steps, his mouth slightly open as he processed your words. His furious gaze snapped from your hands to Sunghoon, then down to Sunghoon’s swollen, bruised knuckles, and finally back to your wide, earnest eyes.

The protective anger radiating off Sunoo flickered, replaced by a complex mix of surprise and hesitation. He crossed his arms, his jaw shifting as he looked Sunghoon up and down.

Sunghoon didn't flinch or act smug. He stood his ground by the gate, looking straight at Sunoo with a steady, quiet seriousness. He slowly raised his left hand, bringing his fingers to his chest, and bowed his head slightly toward your brother—a silent gesture of respect and an unspoken promise that he meant no harm.

Sunoo let out a long, heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looked at you, then back at Sunghoon, signing to you with much softer hands "Are you really okay? Did those guys touch you?"

You shook your head quickly, signing back "I'm fine. Sunghoon stopped them before anything happened."

Sunoo looked back at Sunghoon. He didn't offer a smile, but the tension in his posture visibly eased. He gave Sunghoon a single, stiff nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks," Sunoo mouthed clearly, keeping it simple enough for Sunghoon to read his lips.

Sunghoon offered a subtle nod in return, taking a step back toward the street. He pulled out his phone, typed a brief note, and held the screen out for you one last time before turning to leave

See you tomorrow, Sunha. Get some rest.

Sunoo closed the front door behind you, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet entryway. He turned around, his arms crossed over his chest, his protective big-brother stance back in full force.

"Next time don't lie to me," he signed clearly, his face serious. "I was worried sick when you said you were walking home alone."

You looked down, feeling a pang of guilt. You brought your hands up, signing back carefully. "I'm sorry. I just knew you'd freak out if I told you I was with him."

Sunoo let out a quiet huff, his posture softening slightly as he walked toward the kitchen. "Because I care about you, Sunha. I don't want anyone taking advantage of you, especially not someone with a reputation like his."

He set two glasses of water on the counter, handing one to you before meeting your eyes again. "I mean... I'm glad he was there for you today with those idiots. I really am. But just promise me you'll be careful. People like Sunghoon don't usually change overnight."

You took a sip of water, the memory of Sunghoon's soft smile and bruised knuckles flashing through your mind. You nodded to reassure Sunoo, but deep down, you couldn't help but wonder if there was a completely different side to Park Sunghoon that no one else had ever taken the time to see.

That night, you lay in bed with your phone resting on your chest, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet of your room felt different now. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Sunghoon stepping between you and those jocks, or the intense focus in his dark eyes as he laboriously wrote out notes just to speak with you.

Your phone buzzed against your hand.

You picked it up, expecting a reminder notification or a text from Sunoo about tomorrow’s schedule. Instead, a new message from an unknown number glowed on the screen:

Unknown: Hey. It’s Sunghoon. I asked the class group chat for your number… hope that’s okay.’

A second message popped up right after:

Sunghoon: Did you put ice on your wrists? Those guys grabbed you pretty hard.

A faint smile spread across your face as you typed back:

You: My wrists are fine, really. What about your knuckles? Did you ice those?

Three little dots appeared on the screen, disappearing and reappearing as he typed, deleted, and typed again.

Sunghoon: I forgot, I was busy making sure you got home safe.

You bit your lip to suppress a soft laugh, resting your chin on your pillow as you tapped out your response

You: Go ice your hand, Sunghoon. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.

Sunghoon: Only if you let me walk with you to physics again

You: Deal. Goodnight, Sunghoon.

Sunghoon: Goodnight, Sunha.

You locked your phone and hugged it to your chest, rolling onto your side. Outside your window, the night was quiet and still, but for the first time since transferring to XO University, the daunting unknown of tomorrow didn't feel scary at all.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

The morning light poured through your bedroom window, waking you before your alarm even had the chance to go off. For the first time since transferring, you didn't feel that heavy, anxious knot in your stomach about going to school.

When you walked downstairs, Sunoo was already at the kitchen island, buttering toast. He took one look at your face and raised an eyebrow, setting his butter knife down to sign "You're up early. And in a good mood. Should I be suspicious?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and signing back "I just slept well. Ready to go?"

The walk to school was quiet, Sunoo keeping a close eye on you, but as soon as you stepped through the double doors of the main entrance, your eyes subconsciously began scanning the crowded hallway.

You didn't have to look for long.

Standing right by your locker, leaning casually against the metal doors with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, was Sunghoon. He looked sharp, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, completely ignoring the curious glances from students passing by.

The moment he saw you walk down the hall, his stoic posture relaxed. He pushed off the lockers and stepped toward you, pulling his right hand out of his pocket—which was now neatly wrapped in clean white bandage tape.

Sunoo immediately stiffened beside you, crossing his arms and letting out a loud sigh, but he didn't try to stop you as you stepped forward.

Sunghoon looked at Sunoo first, giving your brother a respectful, subtle nod, before turning his gaze entirely onto you. He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen once to reveal a pre-typed message:

Good morning. I iced my hand like you said.

You couldn't hide the soft, warm smile that broke across your face. You brought your hands up, signing clearly "Good morning. It looks much better."

Sunghoon didn't understand the exact signs, but he recognized the bright light in your eyes. He gestured toward your first class down the hall, holding his arm out slightly to walk beside you, silently waiting to see if you'd let him accompany you.

Later, Sunoo cornered Sunghoon against one of the lockers "okay spill, what's your plan with my sister?" He says.

Sunghoon didn't flinch. He slowly leaned back against the cool metal of the locker, keeping his gaze steady on Sunoo. The usual aloof, unbothered smirk he gave anyone who tried to confront him was nowhere to be found.

Instead of reaching for his notebook, Sunghoon looked Sunoo straight in the eye, his dark eyes fierce and completely unyielding.

"I don't have a plan," Sunghoon said, his voice low, clear, and cut with a lethal seriousness. "I'm not playing a game with her."

Sunoo held his ground, his arms tightly crossed and his jaw set. "You could have any girl in this school, Sunghoon. Sunha isn't a curiosity or a project. She's been through enough adjustments moving here, and if you're doing this just because she's 'different'—"

"I'm learning sign language for her," Sunghoon interrupted flatly, his tone cutting Sunoo off instantly.

He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and shoved the screen toward Sunoo's chest. It was open to a sign language app, showing hours of logged practice and a streak that started the exact day Sunha transferred.

"I don't care about anyone else in this school," Sunghoon continued, his jaw clenching tight as he held Sunoo's gaze. "She laughed yesterday. I want to make sure she stays safe, and I want to see her laugh like that again. That's it."

Sunoo stared at the phone screen, then back at Sunghoon's intense, dead-serious expression. The angry, protective wall Sunoo had built up all week flickered, caught completely off guard by the raw honesty in Sunghoon's voice.

Silence stretched between them in the busy hallway. Finally, Sunoo let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair and dropping his arms.

"She has trouble reading lips when people talk too fast," Sunoo muttered quietly, turning his gaze toward the end of the hall. "And she hates loud places. Don't take her anywhere noisy if you ever take her out because the vibration makes her ears hurt."

Sunghoon blinked, a subtle hint of surprise softening his sharp features.

"I'm still watching you," Sunoo added, pointing two fingers at his own eyes, then at Sunghoon. "You step out of line once, and I won't care how hard you hit those jocks yesterday."

Sunghoon offered a single, genuine nod. "Understood."

Sunghoon stood in front of his full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his black button-down shirt. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a way that felt entirely alien to him. He’d faced down rival school crews, aced exams without studying, and never blinked—yet the thought of tonight had his hands practically shaking.

He raised his hands, going through the motion for the hundredth time that evening.

“You look beautiful tonight. Will you go out with me?”

His phone buzzed on his bed. He picked it up to see a incoming video call from Sunoo. He immediately swiped to answer, holding the phone up to face height.

On the screen, Sunoo leaned in, squinting critically. "Alright, show me again. And make sure your palm orientation is right this time, or you're going to tell her she looks like a shoe."

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but he took a deep breath, setting his posture straight. He clearly, slowly executed the signs—paying close attention to the fluidity of his wrists, the facial expression, and the pacing Sunoo had drilled into him over the past few weeks.

Sunoo watched intently, his critical expression slowly melting into a smirk. He crossed his arms and gave a single, approving nod over the screen. "Not bad, ice prince. Your 'beautiful' was actually smooth. She's going to lose her mind."

"It's correct? You're sure?" Sunghoon asked, his voice low, needing absolute certainty.

"It's perfect, Sunghoon. Now stop sweating through your nice shirt and go pick up my sister. The restaurant reservation is at seven."

Sunghoon closed the app, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. He had booked a private dining room at a quiet, high-end restaurant on the edge of the city—no loud music, no clattering kitchen noise, no crowds. Just dim lighting, soft ambiance, and a table for two.

Twenty minutes later, Sunghoon was standing outside your front door. He rang the bell, his breath hitching as the door opened.

When you stepped out into the porch light, dressed up for what you thought was just a casual dinner, Sunghoon completely forgot every word of English and ASL he had ever learned. You looked stunning.

He didn't pull out his phone. He didn't reach for a notebook.

Instead, Sunghoon took a small step forward, his dark eyes fixed entirely on yours. He lifted his hands into the warm evening air, his movements careful, delicate, and full of effortless grace as he signed directly to you:

“You look beautiful tonight.”

He paused, his chest rising and falling as he swallowed hard, before continuing with the sentence he had spent two long months preparing for.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

For two months, you had watched Sunghoon use sticky notes, phone screens, and simple gestures to communicate with you. You had seen him struggle through basic signs, laughing together when he got them wrong. But seeing him stand on your porch now, dressed in a sleek black shirt, executing two full, fluid sentences with such precision and emotion in his eyes, hit you directly in the chest.

The silence around you wasn't just quiet—it felt sacred.

Your eyes welled up with unexpected heat, a soft, breathless gasp escaping your lips. You looked from his hands back up to his face. Beneath his composed posture, you could see the slight tremor in his jaw, the subtle, anxious pulse in his neck as he waited for your answer, utterly vulnerable in a way he had never been before.

Slowly, a bright, radiant smile broke across your face—the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle, the very smile he had spent weeks dreaming about.

You raised your hands, signing back with gentle, clear movements: "I would love to."

Sunghoon’s shoulders dropped an entire inch as he let out a long, heavy breath he seemed to have been holding forever. The nervous tension melted instantly, replaced by a warm, breathtaking smile that made him look younger, softer, and entirely yours.

He didn't say a word. He stepped off the porch, holding his hand out to you. When you placed your fingers in his palm, his grip was firm and gentle, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand as he led you to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was peaceful. He held your hand over the center console the entire way, occasionally glancing over at you with a quiet, contented look in his eyes.

When you arrived, he guided you into a secluded, private dining room set far away from the bustling main floor. Warm, dim ambient light washed over a small table set for two, shielded from the heavy noise of clattering plates and loud conversation.

Sunghoon pulled out your chair for you, carefully waiting until you were comfortable before taking his seat across from you.

As the waiter handed you both leather-bound menus, Sunghoon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, elegant notebook—not his usual beat-up class pad, but a nice one—and set it on the table between you, accompanied by his phone already set to a text interface.

He looked at you, his dark eyes glowing softly in the warm lighting. He lifted his hands, taking his time to sign carefully:

“Tonight is just for us. No rush. No noise.”

He then tapped his chest, pointing to you, and signed the phrase Sunoo had helped him perfect just hours ago

“I am so glad you said yes.”

You looked across the small, candlelit table, feeling a warm flutter in your chest that completely erased any remaining nervous tension. The soft amber glow of the room reflected in his dark eyes, making the usually stoic high school heartthrob look entirely focused on just one person: you.

You lifted your hands, signing back with a gentle, playful tilt of your head "You practiced a lot, didn't you?"

Sunghoon’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks dusting with a faint pink hue as he picked up his pen and quickly wrote in the notebook

Sunoo made me practice for two hours straight before I came over. He threatened to fight me if I messed up the signs.

You let out a soft, airy giggle, shaking your head. You reached over the table, your fingertips lightly resting on his wrapped knuckles—the faint fading scar from two months ago still visible underneath.

Sunghoon looked down at your hand, his smile softening into something deeply tender. He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours across the crisp white tablecloth. He didn't let go, even as the waiter discreetly brought over a selection of quiet, elegant dishes and poured water into your glasses.

Throughout the meal, conversation flowed with a seamless rhythm that felt completely unique to the two of you. Sunghoon used his newly learned signs for simple thoughts, switching to fast, fluid typing on his phone when he wanted to tell you longer stories about his figure skating training or how much trouble he used to get into with his teammates. In return, you typed back, teaching him new signs along the way. Every time he picked up a new gesture, his face lit up with that quiet, rare pride he only ever showed around you.

As dessert was cleared away, the restaurant settled into a deep, peaceful quiet.

Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to his face. He sat up a little straighter, taking a slow, steadying breath. Slowly, carefully, he raised his free hand and began to sign, his movements deliberate, precise, and filled with an undeniable sincerity

“I used to think the world was too loud,” he signed, his gaze locked entirely on yours. “But with you... it’s quiet. And I like it.”

He paused, resting his hand over his heart before completing the phrase

“I really like you, Sunha.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the gentle weight of his words hanging in the warm air between you. You squeezed his hand tight, leaning forward over the table, and signed back with a soft, radiant smile

“I really like you too, Sunghoon.”

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

"You better treat my sister well sunghoon or I swear I will end you" Sunoo signs and says as you two enter the campus hand in hand.

Sunghoon didn't even flinch. Without breaking his stride or letting go of your hand, he slowed his pace just enough to look Sunoo dead in the eye as the three of you crossed the front courtyard.

Instead of his usual stoic silence, Sunghoon squeezed your hand a little tighter, brought his free hand up, and clearly signed directly to Sunoo in front of half the incoming morning crowd.

“I will.”

Sunoo stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he stared at Sunghoon in absolute shock. The fact that Sunghoon had just used sign language—publicly, confidently, and without an ounce of hesitation—to answer him left Sunoo completely speechless for the first time in his life.

A subtle, victorious smirk touched the corner of Sunghoon's lips. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening instantly as the morning sunlight caught his dark hair.

He lifted his hand again, signing to you with a smooth, effortless rhythm.

“Ready for physics?”

You couldn't help the bright, breathless laugh that escaped you, glancing back at your brother, who was still standing near the fountain, shaking his head with a reluctant, exasperated smile. You turned back to Sunghoon, squeezing his hand tight, and signed back:

“Always.”

As you two walked through the double doors together, ignoring the whispers and shocked stares of the surrounding students, Sunghoon leaned down slightly, resting his forehead briefly against yours with a quiet, contented sigh—making it clear to the entire school that he wasn't hiding a single thing anymore.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The autumn air had grown crisp as dusk settled over the park near your house. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of lavender and pale pink.

Sunghoon was sitting beside you on a wooden bench tucked away under a large oak tree, far from the main path. Your hands were resting between you, fingers loosely intertwined. His thumb traced gentle, rhythmic circles over the back of your hand, a quiet habit he had developed over the past few weeks.

You looked up at him, catching the way the warm twilight softened the sharp angles of his face. Sensing your gaze, Sunghoon turned to look at you, his dark eyes instantly reflecting that familiar, quiet tenderness.

He carefully let go of your hand and raised both of his, taking his time to sign with painstaking neatness

“Cold?”

You smiled, shaking your head, and signed back "No. It's nice."

Sunghoon looked at you for a long moment, the cool breeze blowing a few strands of dark hair across his forehead. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, typing something quickly before turning the screen toward you

Can I tell you something? But you can't laugh.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes as you nodded.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, took a slow, steadying breath, and raised his hands again. His movements were slightly hesitant, his cheeks dusting with a faint pink that had nothing to do with the chilly weather.

He signed slowly, pausing between each word to make sure he didn't mess up

“I... practiced... how to... ask...”

He stopped, biting his lower lip, looking adorably flustered as he lost the sign for the next word. He let out a soft, self-effacing sigh, shaking his head at himself.

Before he could reach for his phone again, you gently reached out and cupped his cheek with your warm hand.

Sunghoon froze completely. His dark eyes widened slightly, his breath catching in his throat as your thumb lightly brushed over his cheekbone. The usual confident, protective guy who faced down whole groups of jocks suddenly looked entirely helpless under your touch.

You brought your other hand up, signing one simple, clear question right in front of his face

“Can I kiss you?”

Sunghoon’s jaw dropped just a fraction, a silent, breathless gasp escaping him. He didn't use sign language. He didn't reach for his phone or notebook.

Instead, he leaned forward, his hand coming up to gently rest against the back of your neck, his fingers tangling softly in your hair. He closed his eyes and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sweet, and unbelievably tender kiss.

It was soft and hesitant at first, as if he were holding back all the intensity he carried inside, afraid to startle you. But as you leaned into him, his grip on the back of your neck tightened just enough to pull you closer, deepening the kiss into something warm, deep, and breathless.

The quiet around you seemed to expand, the rustle of autumn leaves and the cool breeze fading into complete insignificance.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath fluttering warm against your lips. His eyes fluttered open, dark and shining as he looked down at you, a soft, breathtaking smile gracing his features.

He lifted one hand between your faces, his index and middle fingers tracing a light, gentle sign right against your cheek.

“Perfect.”

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

Four years passed like a quiet, beautiful dream.

Graduation came and went, leading into university life where the initial whispers and stares faded into distant memories. Sunghoon’s stoic reputation had long since dissolved, replaced by the constant, undeniable presence of a guy who simply adored you. He spent every free hour studying, figure skating, and sitting beside you in quiet library corners, his hands constantly moving in the silent, fluid language he had made entirely his own.

On a cool, golden autumn evening, Sunghoon took you back to the exact same bench under the large oak tree in the park.

The air was crisp, leaves fluttering down around you just like they had four years ago. Sunoo was "discreetly" hiding behind a nearby gazebo with a camera—a deal Sunghoon had arranged weeks in advance after nearly undergoing another brotherly interrogation.

Sunghoon turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He looked stunning, dressed in a sharp tailored suit, his dark eyes brimming with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Slowly, deliberately, he let go of your hands and raised his own. He didn't rush. His hands moved with effortless, breathtaking grace, executing every sign with perfect clarity and profound emotion

“Four years ago, you taught me that the world didn't need to be loud to be beautiful,” he signed, his gaze locked entirely onto yours. “You gave me a quiet place where I could just be myself. I want to build that quiet, beautiful life with you forever.”

Sunghoon dropped to one knee on the bed of fallen leaves. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate platinum ring that caught the soft lavender twilight.

He didn't look down at the ring. His eyes stayed fixed on your tear-filled eyes as he raised his left hand, signing one final, sacred question with complete, unwavering confidence

“Will you marry me?”

A breathless, joyful laugh escaped your lips as tears spilled down your cheeks. You dropped down to your knees right in front of him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close.

Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and pure happiness. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin tenderly before pulling back just enough to capture your lips in a deep, sweet, and lingering kiss.

Behind the gazebo, a distinct click-click-click of a camera shutter echoed through the trees, followed by Sunoo giving a quiet, proud thumbs-up.

When Sunghoon pulled away, his broad smile was the brightest you had ever seen. He gently slid the ring onto your finger, kissed the back of your hand, and held you tight against his chest as the sun dipped beneath the horizon—knowing that whatever the future brought, your world together would always be perfectly, beautifully understood.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: i hope you enjoy it, it was a bit all over the place and a lil late too (sry about that 🫪) but i still did my best really; please feel free to leave any comments or suggestions, thanks 🤍.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t. 

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

✉️ ⦂ would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

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jay

he doesn’t mean to look.

you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

but the moment your shirt lifts — before you even have time to toss it in the hamper — you hear him go quiet. like, dead silent.

you turn around, confused.

he’s sitting up now, remote in one hand, lips parted. just… staring. his entire soul left his body.

“what?” you ask, blinking. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you…” his voice breaks.

he coughs. clears his throat. blinks like he just came back from war.

“you’ve been hiding those from me?”

you glance down, realize you’re still topless, and laugh — “i thought you weren’t looking.”

he puts the remote down slowly. reverently.

“i wasn’t. and now i’m being punished for it.”

you start reaching for your shirt again, but he stops you.

“no. no, you don’t get to take them away. i just met them.”

you laugh even harder, grabbing a hoodie, but he just looks betrayed. hand on his chest. like he needs a moment.

he’s so serious.

“i’m gonna write about this in my notes app. i just need a second to process. they were so pretty. like. aesthetically. artistically. spiritually.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re being so dramatic.”

he just nods slowly. “i know. and i’m right.”

and later that night, when you’re finally in bed, hoodie zipped to your chin, back turned…

you feel his hand on your waist. his lips near your ear.

“next time… warn me. or don’t. i’ll survive either way. i think.”

(he won’t.)

jake

he was laying on your stomach.

like full face-planted. arms around your waist. humming into your skin, half-asleep, talking nonsense between every other breath.

you thought he was dozing off. so when you finally sit up, lifting your shirt over your head, you don’t think twice.

you’re just changing. grabbing a hoodie. your back’s to him, and it’s dark. no big deal.

until you hear him choke.

“oh.”

you glance over your shoulder. “what?”

he’s sitting up now. like—straight up. eyes wide. cheeks red.

“did i—did you just—i mean, did i see that?”

you pause. blink. realize what he saw.

“oh. yeah,” you say casually. “sorry, i didn’t think you were looking—”

“NO i mean—it’s okay i just—wow.”

you laugh, pulling your hoodie on, but he’s still sitting there like he witnessed a miracle.

“you’re just… walking around with those? like… they’re real?”

you look at him.

he looks at you.

then covers his face with both hands and groans.

“i’m gonna have dreams about this,” he mumbles. “like not even in a gross way. just in a i saw something sacred kind of way.”

you crawl back under the blanket and he immediately wraps himself around you like a koala. kisses your collarbone like he’s trying to prove his love to god.

“you know i’d die for you, right?”

“because of my boobs?”

“yes. but also your soul.”

sunghoon

he just wanted his charger.

you’d taken it earlier. said he left it in your room. told him to come grab it when he needed it.

he didn’t knock. he thought you were in the kitchen.

so when he pushes the door open and sees you — topless, glowing, towel low on your hips, hair still damp, hand frozen mid-lotion — he doesn’t speak. doesn’t move. just. stares.

your eyes meet. for a second, you both just blink. like a standstill.

and then—“oh my god—” you gasp, arms flying up to cover your chest.

he flinches so hard he nearly drops his phone.

“i’m sorry—i’m so sorry—i thought you were—i didn’t know—i didn’t—”

he steps back, slams the door shut, and stands there. outside your room. in silence. breathing heavy.

you call through the door.

“did you at least grab the charger??”

his voice cracks.

“no. i… i blacked out a little.”

you start laughing, and he wants to crawl into the floor.

he walks back to the living room like he just got hit by a bus. plops on the couch. face flushed. head in hands.

his phone buzzes.

you: “they were nice though right 😌”

him: “don’t do this to me rn”

you: “i’m just saying”

him: “i’m spiraling”

he doesn’t talk about it again until a week later.

you’re cuddling. watching something dumb. his hand on your waist. and he whispers— “i wasn’t trying to see you like that.”

you smile. “i know.”

he exhales.

“but i think about it every day.”

sunoo

he knew you were a little drunk. and he loved it.

you were glowing — cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, giggling at nothing, spinning in his room like the floor was made of clouds.

“this song is so cute,” you hummed, dancing barefoot in your loose, but cropped tee. “you like it?”

“you’re cuter,” he said automatically, phone in hand, recording you from the bed like a proud dad. or a smitten boyfriend. or both.

and then you twirled. just once. dramatic. shirt lifted. boobs out. fully. jiggled in the light.

he screams. like, not a little gasp. a full-bodied, hands-flailing, dramatic-ass scream.

you freeze.

he drops his phone.

“what was that?!”

“what do you mean?” you blinked innocently.

“you just showed me your entire whole everything!”

you laughed. “it was like half a second!”

“HALF A SECOND TOO LONG!.”

he turned his back like it was a crime scene. hands on his hips. pacing.

“do you know what that did to me? i can’t just see those and go back to normal?? i have to live with this memory now???”

you’re still giggling, flopping on the bed.

“are you mad?”

he turns back slowly. shakes his head with deep, dramatic disappointment.

“i’m not mad. i’m… changed.”

you smile at him, hair messy, shirt hanging off your shoulder now, and he just sighs.

“your boobs are pretty,” he said, soft.

“thank you,” you whisper back.

ten minutes later, he’s cuddled into your side, face buried in your chest like nothing happened.

“just so you know,” he mumbles, “those are mine now.”

jungwon

he wakes up slow.

sunlight leaking through the curtains. sheets warm. room still. his head hurts a little, but it’s dull — the kind of ache that tells him he slept too hard, not too little.

your back is to him. face tucked into the pillow. one arm curled under your head, the other hidden beneath the blankets. hair a mess. tank top clinging to your shoulder, twisted near your ribs.

he yawns, stretches, blinks a few times—and then sees it.

he doesn’t even mean to look. he just happens to glance down as he shifts closer. and it’s there.

the curve of your breast. soft in the light. warm against the fabric. and your nipple. completely out.

his breath catches. eyes widen.

he goes still. so still. his body locks up like if he moves too fast, he’ll ruin the moment—or combust.

he stares for maybe two seconds too long. just enough to memorize the shape, the color, the way it’s pressed to the blanket. then he flips over and stares at the ceiling like a freak.

his brain short-circuits.

“you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“but i did.”

“you need to act normal.”

“i can’t.”

he’s spiraling. breathing too carefully. sweating for no reason. his heart’s beating like you just kissed him, but you’re not even awake.

he hears you shift. the blankets rustle. he wonders if you’re about to wake up and ask why he’s being so quiet.

so he gets up. fast. grabs his phone off the floor. stumbles into the kitchen like he’s being chased by demons.

ten minutes later, you walk out half-asleep, tank top still traitorous, rubbing your eyes.

“morning,” you mumble.

he can’t look at you. he sips his tea like it holds the answers.

nods once. “morning.”

you pause. tilt your head. “you okay?”

he nods again. eyes still fixed on his mug.

“…did i say something weird in my sleep?”

“no.”

you raise a brow. he finally glances up—but the second he sees your shirt slipping again, he FLINGS his gaze back down.

“jungwon,” you laugh, catching on. “did you see something?”

he says nothing. just takes a breath and murmurs, “i shouldn’t be seeing this. pausing a bit more before he whispers, “but it was beautiful.”

and that’s all he says.

for the rest of the day, he can’t look at you without blushing.

and for the rest of his life, he never forgets it.

ni-ki

you’re in his room, lights low, legs tangled under the blanket with a half-eaten bag of spicy chips between you.

the tv’s playing something dumb neither of you are watching — both too busy side-eyeing each other between jokes, limbs inching closer, pretending the tension doesn’t exist.

“you’re literally so bad at arguing,” you mutter, tossing a chip at his chest.

he catches it. eats it. shrugs.

“because i’m never wrong.”

you scoff. dramatic. lean back against his headboard like he didn’t just say something delusional.

it’s hot. too hot. the hoodie you’re wearing feels like it’s suffocating you. so you sit up. lift it over your head mid-sentence, not even thinking — just pull it off and toss it to the floor.

you don’t notice how your tank top rises too. you don’t notice how loose the armhole is. you don’t notice that for a split second, your left tit literally says hello to the room.

but he does.

he goes still. chip mid-air. eyes locked on you like he just saw a solar eclipse and isn’t sure if it was real.

you look at him.

“what?”

nothing. no answer. just him blinking.

“…what?” you laugh.

he points at you. expression unreadable. voice low.

“you did that on purpose.”

you blink. “did what?”

“you just flashed me.”

your face scrunches. you look down. your shirt is back in place.

“i didn’t flash you.”

“you did.”

“it was like—maybe a second.”

“that’s all it took,” he says, leaning back. “i’m a changed man now.”

you roll your eyes, dragging the blanket back over you, acting unfazed.

he turns away for a second. exhales. then you hear him mutter, mostly to himself—

“they were so pretty.”

you freeze.

he doesn’t take it back.

just grabs another chip and pops it in his mouth, chewing like he didn’t just say the most devastating sentence of your life.

“you’re annoying,” you say quietly. your voice cracks.

“no, you’re annoying ,” he fires back. “don’t take your clothes off around me if you want me to act normal.”

you laugh. loud. flustered.

he smiles. like he meant to do that. like he’s proud of himself.

and then he says—

you fall back onto the bed, fingers tangling in jake’s hair as he makes a humming sound against you, the vibrations sends sparks up your spine.

jake is good at this, always has been, but tonight he’s showing off. his tongue traces slow circles around you before flicking at your opening and dragging up, seeking out the place where you need him most.

“oh”, you whine. “oh fuck.”

“the clitoris”, he says against you, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze, eyes becoming glossy as if he wants something more. “did you know it has over eight thousand nerve endings? the most of any part of the human body.”

“jake.” you threaten, fingers finding his temple as he continues to suck gently on your clit, his other hand splayed over the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“its educational,” he teases.

you laugh, a high pitched giggle that turns into a moan when jake sucks your clit into his mouth. your hips buck upwards as he braces himself over you.

“you’re such a nerd,” you manage to say through your moans.

“you are dating a nerd,” he says against your skin. “you knew what you were getting into.”

jake eases two fingers into you as you groan, your head falling back. he uses the stretch of his fingers to find the place deep inside you that makes your whole body twitch. his fingers are long and beautifully angled, curling in just the right way to send another pulse of sensation through you.

“see?” he murmurs, his mouth pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “angles and vectors, all geometry.”

“shut up,” you gasp, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you try to catch your breath. “ah— jake!”

“the g-spot is actually part of the clitoral structure,” he says, his fingers sliding in and out as his mouth finds your core again. “it all connects.”

“jake, i swear—”

“did you know that the clitoris is shaped like a wishbone?” he asks, tracing slow patterns along you with his tongue, working you over from bottom to top. you forget what you were about to say when he begins rolling his tongue over your clit in fast, shallow strokes.

you are so close, already writhing, and jake knows it, he always knows it. he knows your body the way he knows his textbooks, every little sound and reaction to a chapter he memorizes with devotion.

“you’re gonna come for me, baby?”

jake asks, his voice thick with something between amusement and need as his tongue skates over your thigh. “on my face? are you really going to do it? let’s test it, shall we?”

“your— fuck, glasses—!”

“forget the glasses.”

they are completely fogged over now, all opaque. its absurd, really, the way his tongue flicks over you in short bursts while his fingers curl inside you, making you dizzy with need. you can barely focus on what he says next.

“take them off,” you whine, practically begging. “jake— ”

“cant, im too busy recalling the theory of..” he says, practically purring. you find yourself laughing and whimpering at the same time.

“that doesnt even— thats not how it—”

“maybe physics isnt my strongest subject.” jake sighs dramatically before his tongue licks insistently at your folds, his fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. he manages to ignore the fog on his glasses long enough for you to climax, shuddering and whimpering his name as your thighs shake on either side of his head. jake hums against your skin.

“come on, baby,” he groans, voice rough. “let me taste it. let me have it.”

“ah— jake!”

“i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

your orgasm rolls over you, until you are gasping your release into the air, your back arching violently. your fingers dig into jakes scalp, his hair splayed out on either side of your hips. jake licks at you determinedly until your whimpers die down, your body limp, exhausted.

you push his head away weakly.

jake grins, finally lifting himself off of you, his chin glistening. he peeks up at you, the lenses blurred with condensation.

“see?” he says, sliding them up his nose. “perfectly functional.”

“you can’t see a thing.” you scoff.

“i can see enough, princess.”

jake leans over you, his head hovering just above your torso as he peppering kisses all over your body. you taste yourself on his lips when his glasses press against your cheek, warm and fuzzy.

you lift his head by the back of his skull, kissing him thoroughly before sliding his glasses off his face.

“hey,” he whines, blinking up at you. his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks. jake’s face is softer without the frames.

“i was going for a look.” he mumbles softly.

you raise your eyebrows, “the look was clouded nerd who cant see.”

“hey, that’s a classic aesthetic!”

you laugh, pulling him down on top of you. jake melts against you, kissing your collarbone, his fingers finding the sensitive spot at the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“i could go again,” he murmurs, voice heavy with intent. “we could run another trial. for science.”

“for science,” you repeat, laughing when jake’s fingers push into you once more, coaxing another moan from your lips as his glasses sit on the nightstand, forgotten.