Eros Pandemos

"I'm not out. I'm working."

"I know, baby. I'm proud of you." The words are empty; it's not that you don't mean them, it's just they've been said time and time again. Like the weight of the words has been slowly leaking, drifting into the air.

"I'm coming back next month." Maybe you were wrong about how her face contorted. Maybe it wasn't even hurt. Maybe it was that despondent sort of apathy that came with being disappointed one too many times. Maybe she didn't even make a face, just listened to the words and felt nothing. "We're delaying the European leg. Just for a bit. I'll have a week to chill in Seoul."

Maybe you don't feel anything either. Maybe you're used to it all, the routine, the calling, the : "hey, baby how was the show? You looked great up there, can't wait to see you again". Maybe you're used to being alone, connected by a landline to someone who was equally alone, except for the whole world screaming their name.

"I don't even," you pause, and no, you do feel something. You feel it all.

"You don't even what?" she asks, and you don't know if it's despondence, hurt or anxiety, the way you get anxious over whether a couple words will tear your apart.

"I don't even remember what you look like sometimes."

You imagine she's hurt.

---

She doesn't call you the next 3 weeks. You've stopped watching all the fancams, stopped keeping up with all the interviews. It's too much, to see Yunjin smile when all you want to do is scream.

It's a tad dramatic, but just by a bit. You've gotten used to it. You can sprawl on the bed, stay out late. You never have to say no to the invites. It's all just a distraction, all some misdirection so you don't have to stare at that burning red fire in your heart that says you're lost without her, though.

You're leaning on the wall of the bar again, long drag of the cigarette wafting when you call her. Your friends are probably looking for you, but that's alright.

"Hi."

"You awake?"

"Mmhm."

"I just… wanted to hear your voice." It's weird, to admit it. It's weird that it's weird. You've known her for a decade, been dating for half of that, but your voice still comes out all hoarse.

"I'm here."

"I checked on your mom yesterday. She misses New Yo—"

"I know. She called me last night."

The answer is short and testy. You get it. She's busy, hell, you are too. But at least you're here. You curse your line of thinking because this has always been Yunjin's dream. But still, it's enough for you to recoil and say: "Do you think it's better if we just, cut things loose?"

You hear the static through the phone, and it's like you're hearing the thousands of miles between you two, the month long trips, the after practice phone calls where she's tired and can't talk long, the good morning texts you forget to respond to.

You don't know why you said it. You know that it's just going to put more weight on the two of you, you know it's not what you want, it's not even what she wants. Maybe you just said it so you could hear something, some semblance of emotion in her voice.

It works. Her voice is strained and choked when she says "I don't know how to do this without you."

It's not fair. She's been operating without you the whole time. She says it like the weekly i believe in u texts you stopped sending a month ago were the only things that held her together, like you were her engine, or whatever the cliche was. "Then tell me what to do," you pleaded.

She's crying now, and so are you, outside a bar in Seoul while heaps and heaps of fans wait for her shows. The cigarette helps a little.

"Wait for me."

---

Is it bad to say you were nervous to see her? Is it bad that after nearly a year, you were scared? Honestly, you're glad she asked you not to go to the airport. There would be too many cameras there anyway.

Something in your soul shifts, you swear it, the moment you see her, the moment she steps out of the company car, with a face mask covering the face you can't remember. It's almost better that way, adds to the anticipation. Yeah, you're anticipating now, can't wait to see her, can't wait to hold her and tell her you're sorry and that you don't know how to do this without her either.

She's barely out of the car when she rushes to you, and she feels like home and honey and smells like she always does, like nuts and figs, and you do tell her, a crying mess you say: "I missed you so much".

"I'm such a mess, I need a shower," she laughs into your chest.

It's dangerous, you hugging this A-list celebrity outside an apartment in Seoul, but neither of you care. "I'm sorry for everything," you cry. "I just missed you."

You feel her smile into you. "I missed you too. He's looking, isn't he?"

You look to the company driver, scolding you with his glare. She's still working, she always is wherever eyes can see. "He is," you laugh.

"We should go up."

"Yeah, but you're comfy."

"C'mon, we can snuggle all night."

"You haven't moved either," you point out.

"Yeah, 'cause you're comfy."

"That's what I said. I thought it was time to go."

Yunjin loosens up a little, just enough so her face isn't glued to your chest and looks up to you. She looks at you, wanting and happy, but also tired and searching, like: yeah, this is all nice, but what about the past year? What about all the distance, all the dejection. It's gone in a flash. She pulls her mask down.

"Now do you remember what I look like?"

You lean in, and she closes the gap in a second. It's red hot fire, just like her hair, which is blonde now but it still feels the same, like flames in your hands as you run your fingers through it. She tastes different. She tastes the same.

Ahem.

You're forced up to the apartment, bowing a low apology to the company driver.

It's better this way. She showers, and you finally get to see the real her, the one you know, the one you fell in love with, not all glammed up for the cameras but raw and real and beautiful and just for you. You hold her the whole night, let her talk your ear off about the tour, about Eunchae and the girls, about New York and home, about how she wishes they'd add a Toronto stop so she could see your home, about how she's so fucking sorry if you felt like you were being ignored. And you tell her no, that you should be sorry and that you missed her so much. About how you were cranky because really, truly you don't know how to do this without her but everything is okay now, because she's in your arms and she feels like Toronto, and you tell her this until she falls asleep in your arms and you fall asleep in hers.

---

You wake up on the couch, same position you fell asleep in and the sun shines through the window. Maybe it's the light or the plants you replaced because you let the old ones die, or just Yunjin clinging onto you, eyes still closed and soft, but the whole place looks a little brighter, feels a little more like home.

You kiss her on the forehead. She stirs in that same way she always does, keeping her eyes closed but tensing her body in an almighty stretch.

"Mmmm," she groans, and then she wakes up with her eyes and they're already locked on yours.

You stay there for a moment, just watching each other, before you kiss her. You kiss her because she's home and she's yours.

"Ew, I just woke up," she says, lazily bringing a hand up to your face. "Kiss me after I brush my teeth."

You kiss her again, with tongue, just to prove a point. "I've waited long enough. "

"You're disgusting," she laughs, but she kisses you back.

It's just pecks at first, but it devolves into something more. Something better.

After nearly a year, nothing could hold you back now. Your breathing grows more erratic as your tongue climbs deeper into her, your body warms as she shifts so you're no longer holding her, but shes straddling you right on the couch.

The kiss says everything you said last night and more, the i'm sorry's and the i missed you's. You sit up, because just laying there while she's on top of you wouldn't be grand enough for your return. You need to press every inch of your body into her, every fabric of your being, feel her breasts, the warmth of her sex on your lap so that even when she goes on tour and leaves you again, you'll have imprinted your love on her and she on you. Maybe that way you'd feel less empty without her.

Your hands are in her hair, softly, lovingly, and you try pushing her down so you can love her harder, but she's pushing back against you until you're just two people pushing against each other after a thousand years of distance.

It'd be impossible to stay there, lest you suffocate and die in her lips, which doesn't seem so bad, but she pulls away before you let it happen.

"I need you inside me again."

Again, she says, like it's recurring, scheduled, automatic like she didn't just go a year without it. Or maybe she meant it like: it's been so long, I've been waiting for this for so long.

Yeah, that makes more sense, but it doesn't matter much now. What does matter is how she claws your back, whispers through the kisses for you to take it off.

Your hands slide to her front, lifting the oversized shirt she loves to steal from you up.

Your shirts are off in a second. You don't close the gap, you just sit there in awe, looking at her shirtless form, her messy hair cascading down her head, the sharpness of her collarbone, her perfect breasts, nipples pointed at you like they missed you.

"I'm dating Huh Yunjin," you say out of breath, disbelief lining the air.

Huh Yunjin smiles a bit, just a curve, a hint, some acknowledgement before she escalates things with: "Huh Yunjin wants you to fuck her silly. Like, a year's worth of fuck."

You used to worship those lips, not only because of how plump they fucking are, glossy and generous, but because they know exactly what to say to drive you nuts. Over the phone, that meant something else, but here, it means if she says she wants you to fuck her, then you're going to fuck her.

So: you do. All nastily you jump on her, hands on her breasts, kneading as you kiss her lips, down to her neck, sucking and pecking. Her head is thrown back and it's like the first time you met Yunjin, the excitement of it all. She's calling your name, screaming it as you work your tongue down to her chest.

You're feral for Huh Yunjin. Your tongue dances around her, finding her nipples, flicking and flicking until her back arches and her hands are in your hair, asking for more.

"Don't stop, don't fucking stop," she groans all haughtily. "Keep on going!"

The melody of it all spurs you on. A hand slips away from her breast, climbing lower, infiltrating those old pajama pants with ease.

It's so fucking humid in there which only turns you on more. Her panties are soaked, and you can't choose between keeping your mouth latched onto her nipple or switching focus to her cunt.

"I'm gonna taste you, baby," you decide, and all she can do is moan in response. You trace a finger over her pussy, still clothed with the wet garment, all slow and teasing before you bring it to your mouth. She's staring at you needily, and you her when you take the finger and lick it, lick all her moistness and slick. She shudders at the sight.

"H-how do I taste?"

Actually, your cock is throbbing in your pants because of how good she tastes, the perfect amount of sweetness and musk of a girl, your girl unfucked for a year. "So fucking good," you admit, thrusting your hand back down her pants.

She shakes when you trace the finger again over her clothed folds, bringing it up to her lips.

"Taste it, baby."

She opens her mouth, tongue lolling out as she laps the sticky stuff , all stringy in its viscosity.

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking hot."

"Come here," she begs, her own cunt juice lining her tongue.

You jump in, kissing her, tongues dancing, sliding her juices all around.

It's mixing with your saliva to make this truly heavenly concoction, it's making you drunk. Your tongues are fighting, her body is arching into you, your cock is so damn hard you don't know how you haven't cum already.

You're sucking each other in, the taste of her cunt juice grows mellow and you just need more. You need a years worth of it, and when you finally do release your mouth from hers to kiss down her body again, it's like a vacuum the way she gasps for air.

You kiss down to her belly, hooking her pants and dragging it off, exposing her folds. It's like gold, like Christmas in that you've been waiting a whole fucking year for it, like her first performance, like her voice the first time she sang for you.

She's so fucking wet it's insane.

You've barely brought your tongue closer, barely inched when she shudders, even at just the feeling of your breath on her.

"F—"

You jump in before she can react, your tongue lapping up every drop of her warmth. She's squirming. You don't let up. She deserves every little bit of pleasure she's getting from this for leaving you alone, for showing the world more of her than she showed you.

"Je— holy shit, it's so fucking good," she groans.

Her pussy convulses around your tongue, leaking even more of her slick all over your face, and you wear it like war paint. You bring a hand to her twitching clit, rubbing it softly.

She grabs your hair, bounds of it, pulling and pulling until her cunt squeezes and she cums, hands holding you so she can't cum anywhere but your face.

She pulls you up, face still squinting in bliss.

"I told you to fuck me," she huffs.

You can already feel your balls welling up— it's been a year after all. Just the thought of it, the idea of finally being able to do what you've been craving hits you.

You move slowly, taking her hands in yours as you line up with her sopping sex. You swear you've never been harder, the head of your cock throbbing and swelling, and it barely brushes against her pussy when you groan, squeeze her hands harder in focus.

She feels so good on the tip of your cock, it's throbbing right there at her entrance.

"B-baby."

You push in, and it's warmth, it's the fucking Sun and your nutrients and you realize this is it, this is why you've been so lost without her, because her pussy is your map, the only thing that makes sense.

She's squeezing your hands so tight her knuckles are white. She's tighter than you remember, walls closing in on you as you push further with a squelch. It's so fucking sticky, how your cock is thrusting into her.

You collapse onto her, still thrusting in before she takes all of you. You're bottomed out, laying on top of her as she whispers into your ear how she missed this, how she dreamed of you fucking her while she fingered herself in those lonely hotel rooms.

You pull back now, still slow, before you go back in. Your pace is quickening, soon you can even hear that lewd little smack of your balls, even over your shared grunts.

She's holding onto you for dear life, arms wrapped around you like she might lose you, and you pump and pump and pump to tell her, I'm not fucking going anywhere 'cause you're here.

It's so fucking risky, her being an idol and all, but her legs are wrapping around you and she's tightening, begging you, telling you where to cum. And you cum right there inside of her, spilling every little bit of hot load physically possible, the well of bliss climbing up your spine and releasing as pure love into her, spilling and spilling as she too cums. And at the end, you're just two huffing messes reunited, laying on the couch covered in cum and cum.

You fuck each other like this the whole day.

---

"Hey, my friends are going out tomorrow night. You think they'll be mad I didn't get them anything while I was on tour?"

"Tomorrow?" You don't mean it.

"Yeah," she says slowly.

"You're going out tomorrow?" You definitely don't mean it. But you still said it. Said it like: hey, I haven't seen you in a year. And you're going out with your friends tomorrow?

Her eyes find you. "That okay?", but really: Yeah. Did you think you were the only one I missed?

"Of course baby, have fun." Do you mean it? You don't know.

She plops a relieved head onto your shoulder, wrapping her arms around you. "I'll tell them you said hi."

Hey, listen, it's not like the whole week goes like this. You may be an angsty mess after the distance, but you're not a heartless monster.

It's great, actually. Forgetting what it's like to live alone, it's as great as falling in love again.

You can't believe you're admitting it, but the vanity in your washroom, now full with products upon products is the prettiest thing you've ever seen. Other than her, of course.

And the way she shoves you, hip first out of the way when you're cooking, all that's not how you do it, here, let me show you before she takes the chopsticks out of your hands and adds god knows what into your recipes.

It puts a smile on your face so big you don't even complaining that no actually, my way tastes way better.

It's even the most endearing thing in the world when you've already fallen asleep and she's still up, just laying there watching whatever it is she's watching, when she laughs. Not a cute little puppy laugh, but a full on guffaw. It wakes you, and you look around, asking what happened? what's wrong? is everything alright? and she covers her mouth, looking apologetic and telling you to go back to sleep, sorry for waking you. You don't, you stay up, watching with her, teasing her that her fans are wrong, she can laugh at home.

And of course, you fuck her like she's yours. What it would be like for this to last forever.

---

"3 days," you say lazily one night, eating her favourite takeout food on the couch, watching her favourite TV show, It Was Only a Week. "You're gonna be gone again in 3 days."

You love this couch, the version of it while she's still here. It's full of sweaters, the throw blanket is all bundled up, it's not clear of everything, unused like it usually is. You love this version of the house, and it'll be gone again in days.

She puts her head on your shoulder, sombre. "I'll be back," she says.

"For a while. And then you'll be gone again."

She tenses, just a bit. It's been a good couple of days. The best, but still, you're running away from things. "Is this too hard?"

Her head is still on your shoulder, betraying the strain in her voice, the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Did you— did you really mean it when you asked?" she says.

"Asked what," you say, quiet, afraid of the answer.

"If it would be better if we cut things loose?"

"I need you, Yunjin." You're both just staring at the TV screen, bodies too afraid to react. It's like you're minds are still on the phone, still apart while you just sit there, huddled together like everything is okay.

"But is that okay? Is it okay that we need each other so badly? I'm never gonna stop touring! Not for a long time. This isn't— there's no end to this. Not for a while."

You shift on the couch, break the illusion. "I—"

"I love you," she cuts you off. "I really do, I just want us to be okay."

"I love you too, Yunjin, I didn—"

"Good," she cuts you off again, as if she didn't raise the topic, as if she didn't flick whatever switch it was that brought her back to a thousand miles away. You think of pushing through, of telling her how you feel, but she kisses you again and she's back in front of you, looking so stunning and beautiful and real, not just an image on a screen, not just a voice on a landline.

You lean further into her.

She just came crashing back into your life after the distance, after you were used to living without her, and she came with a bang, a fierce crash the blew everything right into its rightful place. You don't care if it's toxic, if the lack of communication will only hurt, you're just happy she's really here to kiss you.

---

"Okay, and what about your mom, she'll want to come?"

"Yes, yes, I think Kkura and Eunchae are busy, but Chaewon and Zuha will be there!"

"Nice."

"Ew, you better not be watching Chaewon fancams while I'm gone," Yunjin slaps you on the arm.

"Catering is taken care of, venue is set, everything is ready for tomorrow. Congrats baby."

"Congrats? Why congrats?"

"I don't know, I just felt like saying it."

She laughs way too hard. It's really not all that funny, but you're going to miss that laugh. "I'm sorry we're spending my last day here having another going away party."

You reach a hand out to her and she grabs it, ushered into your chest by your pull. "That's okay. I can have you at night, though, right?"

"Mmm, I don't know. I have to be at the airport at like, 4 am."

"Then I guess, tonight I can have you?"

"I'm all yours."

Okay, you lied. She does look so fucking stunning all glammed up like this. It's a different kind beauty than the soft beauty you get to see everyday. It's big, it's grand, it lights up the room and doesn't let you look away.

It's just a couple of people, her friends, family, a couple of her group mates, but she wears the weight of being seen like a pro. The simile is weird, she is one. She's the best, takes the gravity out of a room, shatters the constitutions of anyone looking at her.

Especially yours. You're zipping the back of her dress up when her eyes find yours in the mirror.

Talk about weak Constitution, you stop what you're doing when you feel the weight of her gaze on you.

"So," she says.

"So," you repeat.

"This is it." She spins around, giving you a full view of her perfect face.

Your eyes are locked, unblinking. "What do you mean, this is it. We still have a whole party."

"Yeah, but, that's different. This is our last 'us' moment."

"I… I guess so."

She's so close you can feel her breath.

"We have to leave in… 20 minutes?" she says, voice all high, missing the innocent intonation of a simple statement.

"Then I guess we better finish getting ready."

"Then why are you looking at my lips?" Remember before, when you said she always knows exactly what to say to drive you nuts? Yeah.

"I-I'm not."

Her hands climb up to your lapels as she leans closer, stands on her toes so that she's right in front of you.

"Hmm, okay. I must've been seeing things, then."

Your tongue is in her mouth as soon as the last breath of the sentence tickles your lips, and she's kissing back, because yeah, you were looking at those plump fucking lips, all glossed up for the world and you just wanna let the world know: these are my fucking lips.

You can tell that this is the idol, the version of her that can stand in front of thousands with a smile on her face, because she's so much more assertive. You're at her every whim; she pushes you against the wall, palms on your chest as you're lost in her lips.

"You love these lips, don't you?"

It's rhetorical, it doesn't need an answer. You do anyway, saying yes in moans and groans as she drops to her knees, puckering them just to argue the point.

She's still in that dress, hugging her figure snug.

She doesn't stop looking at you, gives her lips a little lick as she slides your pants down.

She grabs it. The sensation ripples through your body, and with a couple of pumps and a kiss on the tip, she takes it, still half flaccid into her portly lips.

"Shi—nngh," you groan. It's indescribable, how hot it is. She always liked this, taking you before you were fully hard, said she liked the feeling of it growing in her mouth.

Of course, you're fully hard pretty soon. The groan that escapes her lips as your cock throbs in her mouth, you could listen to it all day. It's the best music she's ever produced, which is saying something given her discography.

Her lips are wrapped around your cock, tighter than the dress is her body, which she doesn't like, apparently. All slow and seductive, she glides her lips up your cock until it pops out of your mouth.

The dress you were helping her put on comes off, and she's just sitting there with only her panties. She's so fucking hot, how she loves to get on her knees and be your whore.

Her tongue comes out, opening wide, eyes needy when she says: "fuck my face, please".

Her hair is all done up and curled, better that way, you can get a better grip on it. She's moaning and gasping, begging you to stick your cock back in while you bunch her hair up, grabbing it.

Don't be fooled, she has you right where she wants you; this is still the Yunjin that has you at her every whim. It's all the more hot because this is exactly where she wants you, standing over her, fucking her face in the bathroom.

The suction does nothing to help your stability, her gags, the feeling of the back of her throat, the way her makeup she spent so much time on is smudged, it all leaves you woozy as you pound her throat.

She's taking you deep, so deep you can feel her sexy little throat convulse with every thrust, her eyes are a teary mess but she's looking at you with vigour, like if you stop and this whole things ends before you cum down her she'll leave for her tour and never come back.

The pressure in your pelvis wells up, and with an almighty thrust, hands full of her hair so her lips kiss your pelvis, you cum. Her eyes are closed shut as she stomachs the load, taking every last drop of it. It's in waves and waves, every time she swallows, convulses her sweet little throat it only draws more of your seed.

Only when every last drop of the stuff is in her stomach does she push against your legs, unburrowing your cock. She doesn't even stop there, your arms are dangling lifelessly at your side now, but she's still on her knees, grabbing your still swollen cock, licking up the underside, kissing the tip with these loving pecks, shifting it up so she can access your balls, sucking on them.

"Y-Yunjin, we should go. The party, it's about to star—"

She cuts you off with just a look, and it says everything. She stands up, grabbing you by the arm, stepping over her discarded dress, dragging you to the bed.

You fall down on your back, and there's a conviction in her eye that you don't need to hear to interpret. You know what it means anyway, that I don't give a fuck about the party. I won't see you again for another 2 months and I need you now.

You're back at full mast now, because you realize it too, that you don't care about the party either, that you'd rather be here, fucked dry before she's gone again. She lines up on top of you, sliding her panties to the side.

You've been fucking all week, but it's equally as weighted. The connection, the weight, it shifts from I missed you so much, baby, to I'm gonna miss you so much, just stay a little longer.

You're whole, you're complete, you're full when she's bouncing on your cock, when her pussy clenches around you leaving you a writhing mess.

You've seen her hips move on stage, seen how it steals all the gravity in arena, and now you're experiencing it real time, how her wet pussy slides up on you, hugging you tightly in all the right places.

Her hands are roaming your now bare chest as yours rest on her hips. Her face is still a mess of make up and mascara and lust.

You start to buck up, match her pace when she tightens, cumming on your cock. Both your phones have been ringing in the distance, maybe you don't hear it over her screams, maybe you both ignore it, choosing this over everything, just for one more day.

You fuck her from the back, grunting and thrusting, cumming and cumming until the sheets are a mess of her juices, of your jizz.

You fuck her standing up, her back against your wardrobe as you buck into her and she's moaning into your lips, how she'll cum and cum and cum while she's away, fingering herself while thinking about today.

She fucks you while the sun sets, filling the room with its golden light, like your bed is the stage.

You fuck each other until you're both a haze of sweat and cum and saliva, heaping messes of lust, splayed out in the moonlight, gasping for breath but unable to stop holding each other.

You fuck each other until you're asleep.

You don't dream.

She's gone in the morning. She let you sleep this dreamless sleep, perfectly content. And now she's gone. There's no in between, no solace that exists between the pain of her being away and the blindness when she's here.

She's gone. Probably in a rush too. The bed feels so empty, even though its covered in her love. You can see through the peep in the washroom door that the vast amounts of skincare and makeup sit there, untouched. She'll buy more somewhere abroad.

You don't want to check your phone. She's probably on the plane right now, sleeping, recovering from the night you just had. She'll have to be up the next day for practice, shake off the rust accumulated over the week. You don't want to see if she's texted you, maybe some heartfelt thing about how she'll be back, how you'll both make it through this, or maybe your phone is desolate, maybe she's already reverted back to the limelight, focused on her job and nothing else.

The worst part is, either option would hurt just as much, and you can't be mad at her for any of it. It's her dream, it's her soul, it's distinctly her, Huh Yunjin, the girl you fell in love with.

But Huh Yunjin is gone, again.

It ends just like that, with no resolution, no long talk about what you need to do to make this work. It's easier than that, it's either she's here, or she's not.

And right now, she's not.

---

A/N: IDK WHY I MADE IT WAS ONLY A WEEK AGAIN. I DIDNT REALIZE UNTIL LIKE 10 MINUTES AGO THAT EVERYTINE I WRITE YUNJIN THEY ONLY HAVE A WEEK TOGETHER. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??????

Rei's pussy is a spire the way you slay it, your cock is a spire the way she

slays it. You could call it Slay The Spire 2…

But let's back up, there was a bit more before that.

The night started simply, Liz told you to BEGONE! So you went over to your best friend's house. You knocked on her door, she was half naked with her headphones on. Both excited and unexcited to see you, she dragged you in before you could think of an Escape Plan.

She pushes you to her bedroom, Lifting you up the stairs. You'd never guess what's on her computer monitor, hey at least she's on Aeonglass. She must be a Master of Strategy, where were you?

Oh yeah, the 'fucking' thing.

There wasn't any Prep Time. "You interrupted my gaming, so you will be my game." She groans, pushing you onto her comfy bed– adorned with all the Slay The Spire makeship plushies money could buy, "Understood?"

"Yes, Rei."

"It's the Reigent to you."

You are so not calling her that, she's quick to Expose her lower half in one go. Pattering over as she climbed over your face. More accurately you are Crushed Under the weight of Rei's pussy on your mouth, but that's more a blessing than a curse. You greet her instantly, letting her ride your tongue. There's No Escape from the pace she sets, fast and hard as all of her taste hits you.

"Know Thy Place!" She moans, rolling her hips, holding on to the headboard and using you for her pleasure. You aren't above showing Greed, drinking up all of her, feasting on her cunt more than just what was allowed. Perhaps that is what this is, an endless Folly.

But if this is your Folly, may you toil eternally.

You moan, she moans, the soundtrack of her game is the backdrop for all of these sounds. "Fuck! Mm, that's a good interruption, pretty glad you are here, fuck." Rei Monologues, while you Prolong your actions. Oxygen is irrelevant right now.

Though evidently, sexual action with Rei is just like the game, being turn based. Now its your turn, an Energy Surge empowers you to push her off your face. She falls into her mattress and you are Unrelenting, grabbing her thick thighs and pulling close.

She trembles as your tongue is back up against her, this time though its fully in your control. Through sheer True Grit you devour her, it's erotic, filthy and disrespectful. Her wetness gets smeared all over your lips, the corners of your mouth. If you are her game and the win-condition is an orgasm.

You will Make It So.

"Mmh!" You have to keep Rei on the bed, her legs actively trying to Defy and reach Act Three. She's the best elite combat you've ever had, she's in a Haze while you keep up your combo. Rei's whining and the games truly back, two of your fingers join in. Thrusting in and out, doing some Hand Tricks. Hitting all the right spots, sucking her clit.

It's all a Well-Laid Plan, your eyes look up at her, her mouth's agape, she's so close.

"I'm, gonna, gonna cum!" That's a Victory? The orgasm has her Glowing, gushing all over your fingers and her sheets. You Wish to be in this moment forever, but the show isn't over yet. Rei recovers in a Blur, suddenly she's back up and your pants are down.

"Let me see what you are working with." She treats your cock like the Ironclad's sword, holding it firmly. Spitting on tip and rubbing it in recklessly. "Let me Stoke it a little, get you ready for what's to come."

She does just that, making out with you as her hand pumps you, both of you Huddled Together. Rei's hand is warm, really warm. It feels like the Brightest Flame. Fuck.

Rei's shamelessly sticking her tongue as deep into your mouth as you did her hole. Her spit mixes with yours (there's a lot of it.) Sloppily making out while she gets to terms with your cock. She's The Smith the way she's made you harder than a steel beam.

Her lips pull off yours and you are Dazed. "There's so much I could do, suck your cock until you shoot it down my throat. Or I could slide it in, ride it until you pass out. Maybe I could push my thighs around it, lift up and down until you helplessly spurt all over them. Decisions, Decisions."

Rei has her mind made up, truly in Demon Form as she pushes you down. "So big, so hard." You breathe heavily as your tip is brushing against her, a Tremble while Rei rubs against you, it's bliss, hell, how quickly she's got you Enthralled.

"This cock is going deep inside me, I need it so badly." With that, Rei Follows Through, slipping down and engulfing every inch of you. She's intoxicating, like taking every Elite even though you know it's a bad idea. You just lay there and take it, she bounces and you watch your cock come out wetter than it was before.

She's quick, a Bombardment of bounces, skin slapping against each other. Rei is a very adamant woman, nothing is going to stop her from riding you like the world's going to explode. Not even an Heirloom Hammer to the face.

"You are going to see stars, generate stars, whatever, fuck." Well logic was out of the window awhile ago, you are just happen to get Bury'd deep inside of Rei. She's so horny that she can't maintain rhythm, just chasing her Ascension 10. you both knew from the moment you began you were on Borrowed Time.

And now here you are, back at the beginning. Rei's the spire and you are the spire, she's delivering her attempt to finish the game by making you finish. Her turn's not over yet, being inside her raw has truly Captured your Spirit.

Sweat shines on her deliciously smooth skin, if her hands weren't forcing you into the bed you'd lick it all clean. Ravage her body like the eager slut you are. But you are always Thinking Ahead, and when she starts to slow you say nothing. Just pick her up and throw her back onto the bed. Your sex is the true roguelike experience, pick a different build (face riding, cock riding) and still go onto the same route.

How poetic.

You pounce onto her, sliding into her cunt at the same time you are on top of her. Your dick must be enchanted with Momentum the way her moans get louder with every time you push deep, targeting the right spots. "Fuck ne harder, fuck!"

You lick all the salty sweat off her skin, it turns you on so much that you throb helplessly inside of her. But this is not where the run ends, you are far too Feral. "Oh, oh my god, okay! Fuck me, fuck me harder!" You were surprised you were even able to, Overlocking your thrusts and Doubling your Energy. Everything to make Rei feel euphoric, even if you have to Scavenge the power to keep going.

"I, your cock is so good! I can't hol-" Rei gives up, cumming her brains out as you plow her through it. impressive how you don't follow, she Claw's at your back while you pound her like a Osty. You are fucking her full, the only thing left to do is…

Your orgasm Rattles you, dumping your thick load deep inside, filing her to the brim– you are truly the Conqueror to her spire, hitting the Knockup Blow instead of the Knockout Blow. The legend, another Victory? Her walls milk more of your cum out. she's bred, happy.

But, there's four acts.

Something happens, a spark, you've been fucking on video game logic and this is no different. A few minutes and you are inside Rei's tight asshole, lube was the three keys. This is the summit, you've never been here before but your memory is crystal clear.

Normally you fight a spear, this time you are the spear, spearing inside of her. The easiest way to a girl's heart is to make her cum, so it seems like you will be finishing this final act. Rei's ass cheeks Thunderclap with every thrust, it's total Havoc. It's sort of like a multiplayer card, you pound her ass like she begs and she fingers her cum filled pussy.

Teamwork.

You continue to Heavenly Drill the another orgasm out of her, another shriek and more. No matter how many times you make her cum, you never seen to get further in winning the fight. An infinite stalemate, though her juices Splash off her fingers and into the bed, which is close enough to a victory.

"Please, treat my ass however you want! Fuck, keep going!" The entire street hears it, a Countdown is active. You can only go for so long, a final Spur to make sure this orgasm is The Bomb. "More, please, please, please, I Am Invincible I can take it!"

Helix, Heavenly, what does it matter? You are drilling her, time is drawing to an end. You are Doomed, flooding her asshole with a load of it's own, that's the true Victory. Rei completely dripping, both your cum and her sheer arousal. Converged into one.

It's complete Mind Rot when you pull out, watching it flow out all into a pile, your body is Withering. This run might be over. But you and Rei can definitely do another some other time.

"That was really… really good. You are my new fuck toy, got it?"

“Let’s get some skewers!” said Ahyeon. There was a festival in town, and she could smell the different food stalls all the way from the other side of town. She remembered reading about the evening on the posters outside the college building: a simple street food fair with some other shops.

“You girls hungry?” asked one of her friends, turning to the other girls.

“Yeah,” “sure,” they said, and so to the town center they went.

The festival was already alive by the time they arrived. With the streets full of people, they could already hear the chatter of the crowd from far away. The golden light coming from the stands softened the chilly night air, and everything felt warm and cozy: autumn had arrived. 

There were all kinds of stalls: teokkbokki, skewers, noodles, and even a corner dedicated to desserts. However, that part was a bit further away from the others because they needed to keep a lower temperature for their food.

You worked at one of those stalls. Your skewer stand wasn’t the biggest nor the brightest, but it stood proud amongst the others. The smoke and the scent of the charcoal did all the work. You were one of the only few guys with an actual grill, and everyone could smell it.

Each time the fat from the chicken and the pork dripped into the charcoal, the fire crackled, and that sweet-salty perfume of soy and garlic would rise in the crowd. It was cheap and quick, a perfect treat for the people who were just coming by and didn’t want to get anything too heavy. You could just get a couple and eat them as you were walking around.

You had handed out tray after tray all day—students, couples, elders, kids tugging at their parents for “just one more.” You were having a great time: those satisfied smiles, the little pauses before a second bite, you loved seeing people enjoy your food. 

You lifted your gaze from the grill and saw another small group of girls near your stand. They were examining the menu glued to the edge of the iron pillars. One of the girls stood out as the others were laughing and teasing her for eyeing the menu too long. 

“Don’t eat the whole stall this time!” one of them joked.

“Better watch out, she’ll order for three!” another added, nudging her shoulder.

She laughed nervously, slouching her shoulders. You noticed the way her gaze flicked towards the grill, lingering at the glossy skewers before darting away. She was hungry, you could tell. But she was trying to resist it.

Just moments later, the girls came to sit on the stools you’d arranged around your big wooden counter. 

“Welcome, girls, what can I get you?” you asked brightly, brushing a glaze over the skewers as the grill crackled.

“What would you recommend?” one of them asked, leaning forward.

“Probably the pork skewers,” you said, turning one over and clicking your tongs. The scent of the marinade rose into the air. “We’ve also got squid and chicken, if you’re into that.”

“That sounds good,” the quiet girl replied. 

You moved to the grease-covered cash register, and the girls followed you. They all placed their orders, asking for one of everything so they could try the different flavors. But the last one hesitated and mumbled something under her breath: “Just… one skewer, please. Pork is fine.”

You nodded, but you were feeling a bit doubtful about her. It didn’t match the hunger in her eyes.

“Okay, something to drink, girls? Beer? It goes well together with the grease.”

“Yeah, why not?”

You closed the order and went to the grill, flipping a couple around just for show and getting the boxes out. Some pork, some squid, and some chicken. You just picked up a bunch and shoved it in the boxes; you weren’t the type to hold back. Some of them were thinner and some were thicker, so you couldn’t really decide on a specific number. They needed to get their money's worth.

You brought out the boxes and put them on the table. They immediately started eating, but the other girl stared at you with surprise.

“Excuse me, I ordered just one…” she started, but you quickly interrupted her.

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” you said and gave her a wink.

She blinked, glancing at the skewers. “Oh… thank you, then.” Her fingers fumbled around the tray, a little embarrassed, but she eventually picked one up and started eating as well.

Her friends leaned in, nudging her. “Hey, don’t eat too much now.”

She laughed nervously, trying to hide her blush. “I—I won’t…”

You shrugged casually. “There’s nothing wrong with eating a lot. Enjoying food is the whole point, isn’t it?”

Her friends rolled their eyes. “Sure, that’s what you say—because she’s buying everything you make!”

You shook your head. “She is eating as much as you girls, so shut it.”

The girls laughed in amusement and went back to their food. She peeked up at you, her cheeks still pink, and mumbled a soft “Thanks…”

You went back to the grill, glancing sideways at her as she chewed. Some other customers were waiting in line, and you served them all. Luckily for you, the fair was pretty packed, and you were in a good position.

After a while, you went back to their side. 

“So, you girls in college?” you asked.

“Yeah,” one of them said, brushing hair from her face. “The one near the station.”

“Oh, same as me,” you said, leaning an elbow against the counter. “I go there too.”

That got a few surprised looks. “Wait, seriously? You’re a student and you work here?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug. “After classes, I help out at the family shop. We’ve got a place across the city, near the mall.” You pointed in its direction. “You can drop by if you’re ever hungry.”

“Is it the same as the stand?”

“No, we make a lot of different stuff. Skewers, noodles, rice—whatever keeps people coming back,” you said, and it got a few small laughs.

Her friends paid and thanked you, all smiles and chatter as they left. But she turned back for a moment before following, a soft “Thanks, it was really good” slipping out almost too quietly to hear.

Ahyeon, that was her name. You caught it from her friends. You saw a lot of pretty girls that day, but somehow you remembered her quite well.

-

It had been a few days since the festival ended. It was a success, and you earned a lot. The work did not end, though. You were back in your family restaurant. The lanterns were gone now, replaced by the cool hum of streetlights. The crowd had thinned to the usual evening flow. Sometimes it was scarce, sometimes it was really busy.

You were preparing for the evening service. The grill was already on and running, skewers on the side, and sauces in containers. On the other side, you had all the ingredients for the wok. You knew your typical customers. The workers always came at the same time, and they needed their food quickly. You agreed to a special discount. They were loyal after all.

The restaurant filled up with the men, and after a couple of beers, it became lively and fun.

You spotted a girl at the front door. You had young people coming in, too, but they usually weren’t alone. She paused at the entrance, checking her phone to pretend like she had something to do. After the hesitation, she stepped inside.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light. “From the festival, right?”

She tilted her head, a little startled, then she smiled. “Yeah… you remember me?”

You looked at her, wrapped in a light cardigan, hair slightly messy from the breeze. She was still as pretty as you remembered. 

“Yeah, I never had anyone order just one skewer.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s not a problem. You just looked hungrier than what you ordered,” you said, turning the meat on the grill. “Dinner for one?”

She exhaled through a laugh. “Yeah. I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Every once in a while, a princess has to treat herself.”

She laughed again. Ahyeon sat on one of the stools at the tables in front of you. Her backpack slipped off her shoulders as she made herself comfortable. 

“So, what will it be?” you asked.

She looked at the menu again, though you could tell she already knew what she wanted. “Hmm… two pork boxes, one chicken, and—” she glanced up, “is the squid still available?”

“Still got a few left,” you said. “You sure about three orders though?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, then seemed to realize how that sounded. “I mean—uh—yeah, it’s been a long day.”

You chuckled and went back to prepare her food. The grill hissed as you set the skewers down. She sat quietly, scrolling through her phone, probably pretending not to notice you watching her. Eventually, the food was ready. You put everything on the table, bowed, and went to serve other customers.

When you came back, she seemed to have almost finished everything. The thing was that only 10 minutes had passed.

“You’re eating well tonight,” you said.

Ahyeon froze mid-reach for her drink, caught off guard. “Is that your polite way of saying I eat too much?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You seem happy.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Yeah… you could say that.” She laughed awkwardly. “My friends always make fun of me for it. They say it’s not… very girly.”

“So starving is really girly, right?”

She looked down, poking at her food. “I mean… when you say it like that.”

You clicked your tongs. “It’d be worse if you were sick and couldn’t eat.”

“Well, you’re right.” 

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You could only hear the quiet hiss of the grill and the distant chatter of the street. You cleared your throat, calling her attention. She looked up.

“Uhm… you still hungry?” you asked.

“A little.”

“Good,” you said, sliding another skewer onto the grill. “Because I was about to give you something extra.”

She blinked. “Extra?”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching for a new tray. “Trying out a new seasoning. Want to see if it’s any good.”

She tilted her head. “You want me to taste-test it?”

You nodded. “Someone’s gotta make sure I’m not poisoning customers.”

She tilted her head, clearly suspicious. “You mean I’m your guinea pig?”

“Pretty much,” you said. “But don’t worry—it’s free.”

“I accept.”

When the skewer was done, you set it in front of her, the glaze still glistening under the light. She didn’t hesitate. She took a bite, then another. She seemed to think carefully.

“It’s good,” she said finally. “The sauce is sweet but not too heavy.”

You nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You could maybe use a little more ginger, but…” she took another bite, “I like it.”

“Too salty?” you asked, feigning concern.

“No, it’s perfect. What’s in it?”

You shrugged lightly, pretending to think. “Guess.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Soy sauce, obviously. Maybe sugar? Some sesame oil… garlic, definitely garlic.”

You stayed quiet, hiding a grin as you wiped the counter.

She squinted at the menu taped to the stall window, reading under her breath. “Wait a second—this one already has sesame oil and garlic listed…”

You turned the skewer once more, trying not to laugh.

Her eyes widened slightly, then she pointed at you with her chopsticks. “So you weren’t really testing the seasoning, were you?”

You looked up at her finally, caught. “Maybe not.”

She leaned back, a small smile creeping across her face. “You just wanted me to eat more.”

You gave a half-shrug. “Is that bad? Your expressions are really cute.”

That shut her up for a bit. Her cheeks turned faintly pink, and she ducked her head to take another bite — maybe to hide her face, maybe just because she was genuinely hungry.

“No,” she said. “Not really.”

When she finished eating, she wiped her hands and leaned on the counter. “You work here every day?”

“Yeah,” you said

“Must be nice,” she said. “Doing what you like every day.”

“It’s mostly just standing around smelling like smoke, but yeah, it’s not bad.”

She smiled, fiddling with the empty skewer sticks. “Well, your food’s good. Way better than anything I’ve had around campus.”

“Glad to hear that,” you said. You knew the evening was about to come to an end. And truth was, you wanted to see her again, so you took a deep breath and tried your luck: “I try new stuff sometimes, mess around with the recipes. If you ever feel like testing them, you’re welcome to drop by. I’ll pay you in food.”

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Free food, huh?”

“Only if you give honest feedback.”

“Deal,” she said, grinning. She extended her arm and shook your hand. “I’m good at eating.”

“I noticed,” you said.

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t seem annoyed by your comment.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“Ahyeon,” she said as you gave yours in return. 

“I’ll remember it,” you replied.

“It’s gotten late, I should go,” Ahyeon said as she stood up.

You nodded. She collected her stuff and paid for the skewers she had ordered at the start. Before she could step out of the door, you stopped her for a moment.

“My offer is still up, if you want,” you said with hesitation. You rolled your lips, thinking that maybe you had been too pushy.

“I’ll be back,” she smiled, and relief washed over you.

When she finally left, so did everyone else, and the restaurant went silent. You cleaned the counter, turned down the grill, and caught yourself looking down the street where she’d gone — just for a second, before shaking your head and going back to work.

You didn’t know if she’d actually come back, but you kind of hoped she would.

After that first night, she started showing up every now and then. At first, it was once a week, usually when her classes ended late, or when she was up studying and the dorm cafeteria had already closed. She always came up with the same excuse.

“Just passing by.”

“Had to walk off a long lecture.”

“Too hungry to wait until dinner.”

She always sat at the same spot, where she would be close enough to the grill to feel its heat. That way, she could talk to you while you were working. You suggested another table, but then you’d have to walk back and forth, so she refused. She didn’t mind smelling like grease, apparently.

Sometimes she’d text first, but most of the time she’d show up unannounced, claiming she happened to be nearby.

By the third or fourth week, she knew your menu by heart. You stopped handing her the paper list. She’d just order from memory, adding, “and whatever you’re testing today.”

Ahyeon didn’t come just for the food. She came for you. You’d work the grill while she chatted about life: her professors, her roommates, the stress of the midterms, and so on. In between, you’d slide her something new to try: spicy sauce one night, honey glaze the next, and when you didn’t think of anything, just some food you had lying around, like a bowl of fried rice.

She took it pretty seriously. 

“Needs more crunch.”

“Too salty.”

“Perfect. Don’t change a thing.”

Maybe she was meant to be a food critic. You pretended to jot down what she said, but you never had any intention of serving that food.

Sometimes she had her own requests too. It was after a very big meal that she leaned back in her chair and raised a finger at you. “You got dessert?”

“Dessert?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You know, sweet stuff? Something that isn’t meat?”

“No,” you said lightly. “Don’t have it.”

Her eyes widened. She was shocked, and quite frankly, offended. “What do you mean no? You’re a restaurant.”

“We only serve salty foods.”

“Unbelievable. You feed me this amazing dinner and then just… stop?”

You smiled. “Yeah, that’s how meals work. Our customers usually wash the meal down with more booze. You want some?”

“No, no,” she said, crossing her arms. “I want something sweet.”

You leaned on the counter. “What do you want me to do, go buy you a chocolate bar?”

She thought about it. “Actually, yeah. That’d work.”

“I am not doing that.”

“I am waiting,” she said, holding out her hand.

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned to the fridge behind you. “Let me see if I have something sweet for our child here.” Of course, there wasn’t anything. So you walked to the back of the kitchen, seeing if there was anything that could resemble a dessert. A moment later, you returned with a small plastic cup of pudding that had been sitting there since lunch service.

She squinted at it. “Is that… cafeteria pudding?”

“Yeah, didn’t want it,” you said. “It’s dessert, right?”

Ahyeon shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Eat it or I’m putting it back in the fridge.”

“Fine,” she said, taking the spoon from your hand. You went to the other side of the room to tidy up after some customers left. When you were done and came back, Ahyeon was staring at you.

“You got another one?”

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you chuckled.

“So?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” you said and walked to the back again.

-

Dinner rush.

The restaurant was loud: the clatter of chopsticks, the hiss of the grill, the music, the drunks, and the families. You were behind the counter, working through a steady line of orders. 

You were backed by your team, but it was still extremely hectic.

Then, through the noise, you caught a voice you recognized.

Ahyeon’s.

She was laughing somewhere near the door, but her voice was quickly joined by a couple more familiar ones. You glanced up briefly and saw them stop by the door. You didn’t call out. She didn’t see you yet.

“See?” one of the girls said. “I told you she can’t go a day without food.”

Both of them laughed. You smiled faintly at first, expecting Ahyeon to laugh it off like always, but then another voice joined in: “Of course she can’t. She’s got her own personal chef now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ahyeon asked. There was a strain on her voice; she seemed uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on,” her friend said playfully. “You’re always here. Don’t act like you’re not getting special treatment. They probably gives you extra food for free, right?”

Her words seemed to hit the bullseye on Ahyeon. She quickly lowered her head and started playing with the hem of her shirt. You were in the middle of handing a tray to a customer, so you couldn’t step out. Couldn’t correct them.

“You’re such a glutton, Ahyeon.”

“Stop it,” she said, her voice small. “It’s not like that.”

“Relax, we’re joking!” another friend said quickly, trying to reduce the damage. But it had gone too far. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wasn’t the last. You wonder how many times they repeated this to her. Ahyeon seemed used to it, but it still hurt her a little bit.

Orders kept coming in, customers calling your name. You caught her looking up once, eyes flicking briefly toward you — but you didn’t know whether to smile or pretend you hadn’t heard.

Your eyes met, and she quietly left.

It was just teasing.

Harmless.

The kind of thing friends say all the time.

That’s what you told yourself, but she stopped showing up.

You told yourself she was busy — exams, assignments, anything — but you knew it wasn’t that. You missed her, you really did. The gap she left was too obvious. You’d glance toward the door every time it opened, expecting her to walk in, pretending you weren’t.

By the fourth night, you stopped looking.

But you still found yourself setting aside a small dish near the counter before closing — out of habit more than hope.

It took a few days before you stopped expecting her to walk through the restaurant door. Then, another couple of days before you gave up pretending not to notice.

By the end of the week, it was starting to worry you.

So one afternoon, between deliveries, you packed a small take-out box yourself. Pork skewers, her favorite glaze, and a side of rice. You even added a little box of soup, which you usually handed her during the cold nights. Then you looked up her university’s website to guess where she might be.

No lessons today. Great. So she couldn’t be in a class.

What about the exams? She said they were coming up in like a month, but that was two weeks ago, so maybe she was studying?

There were some libraries near the main buildings. You thought you might as well try your luck. You didn’t have anything else to do anyway. The restaurant wasn’t far. Ten minutes on foot.

The campus was quieter than you expected. There weren’t many people around. You started walking around, looking inside the halls, around the garden. You even asked the girls walking by, but none of them knew who you were talking about.

Made sense. It was a large course after all.

After a couple of minutes, you did eventually find her. She was sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, earbuds in, a half-open notebook on her lap. Her hair was pulled back loosely, she looked very concentrated, her eyes wrinkled like she had forgotten her glasses.

You hesitated for a moment. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe she did not want to see you at all.

But you were already here.

“Hey.”

She looked up and her body jumped. She looked around her to see if it was some kind of joke, but it was just you. Ahyeon quickly brushed her hair behind her ears and straightened her back. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?” she said without looking into your eyes.

You held out the take-out box. “Food delivery.”

Ahyeon narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You set it down beside her. “House special.”

Her eyes softened, and she sighed. She didn’t reach for it right away; instead, she looked at you, mortified. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” You crouched beside the wall so you were eye level. “You disappeared. I figured either you were avoiding me or you got sick of my cooking. And since the second one’s obviously impossible…”

Ahyeon chuckled and shoved your shoulder. It was the first time you heard her laugh in a week. She had no idea how much you missed it.

You nudged the box toward her. “Eat before it gets cold.”

She finally took it, opening the lid. Steam rose in a faint curl, carrying a smell that she knew very well. She looked at the food for a second, then at you, with a small pout. “You know people will start talking about you if you do deliver food to random girls.”

“Not random. Just you,” you said, smiling. “Besides, I wanted to tell you something.”

She paused, chopsticks hovering over the food. “What?”

You looked at the box, then at her. For a second, you almost chickened out. It wasn’t the right time, or the right place. But you were tired of waiting. 

You took a breath and said, “I don’t care what anyone says. About how much you eat, or how often you come by, or whether you ‘use me for food’ or whatever that was. None of that matters to me.”

Ahyeon froze and simply stared at you with her mouth slightly agape. 

“I love seeing you enjoy food,” you said simply. “It makes me happy that you like what I make. And I like talking with you. You’re… easy to be around.”

Her voice softened. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you said. “And it’s cute, honestly. The way you eat a lot. It’s like Kirby.”

Her eyes widened. “Kirby? You’re comparing me to a pink ball that swallows everything?”

You rubbed your neck, groaning. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, suddenly aware of how awkward you sounded. “If you don’t want to come by just to eat, that’s fine. I just wanted you to know I care. About you.”

She still didn’t say anything. She looked down at the food, then picked up a piece and took a slow bite.

Your heart was beating steadily while you waited for a response. She chewed carefully with her eyes closed. She inhaled carefully and looked at you.

“You really walked all the way here just to say that?” she asked.

“Yeah. Well, and to feed you,” you said.

Ahyeon laughed. “Well, if you keep feeding me like this, I might get addicted… to you.”

“That’s uhh—uhm,” you said, stammering. You didn’t expect her response at all. You swallowed and reminded yourself that you did know how to talk to girls. “I’ve heard addiction’s hard to cure.”

Ahyeon grinned. “You really need to work on your lines.”

“As long as you don’t mind them,” you said. “That’s all I need.”

You sat down beside her and talked about all the things you missed. When the food was gone, neither of you got up right away.

“So,” she said finally. “If I show up tomorrow… same spot as usual?”

You nodded. “I’ll make something new.”

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t wait.”

THE END

Written, 14 October - 23 October 2025

No stiff blazers.

No wrinkled ties.

No skirts measured by strict school rules.

Just dresses that glittered beneath warm lights and suits tailored enough to make boys suddenly think fixing their hair once or twice would mold their attitude into gentlemen.

I'm talking about prom of course!

Which explained why Minju currently looked like she wanted to try each and every excuse to not go.

"This is stupid."

Her friend groaned for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening.

"You've said that twelve times already," Yunah said from across the room.

"Because it remains true all twelve times."

Minju stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dress shop, aggressively adjusting the fabric of her dress like she could somehow bully it into becoming less embarrassing.

"This feels weird."

"Did you suddenly develop an allergy towards dresses?"

"I might have at this point."

Yunah snorted from her seat near the fitting room platform, one leg crossed over the other as she watched Minju spiral in real time.

The shop was far too bright for Minju's liking.

Every employee looked far too excited and every rack around her hung dresses that looked like they belonged to people significantly more confident than she was.

The dress she wore was simple compared to the others she had been bribed into trying on.

And by that, she meant Yunah had to bribe her with a week's worth of free lunches and the promise that she would use her position in the media club to hide the unflattering prom photos before they were posted online.

Minju had accepted far quicker than she cared to admit.

The dress she currently wore was teal.

It hugged her waist before falling softly down her legs, the fabric smooth and tiny silver details lined the straps.

"Do I really have to go?" Minju asked.

Yunah had already stood up from her seat, already pushing through hangers of dresses.

"Yes," she answered immediately.

Minju frowned at her reflection.

"It sounds boring anyways. You just stand around while the loud music blasts into your ears and eat food no better than what the cafeteria serves."

"Don't be like that," Yunah replied as she pushed another hanger back. "You already submitted your attendance sheet plus (YN) is going to be there."

Minju nearly tripped over absolutely nothing.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Her head snapped toward Yunah so fast it almost broke off her head.

Yunah slowly turned to look at her then smiled.

Minju immediately knew she had fallen into a trap she should've seen a mile away.

"I don't know, I just thought that it would motivate you just a tiny bit."

Minju stared at her.

"...No," she said flatly.

Yunah blinked. "No?"

"No, it doesn't motivate me knowing he will be there."

"Don't be so rash, don't you want to see what he looks like in a tux?"

Minju opened her mouth and raised to point a finger at her yet nothing came out.

And that alone told Yunah everything she needed to know.

A grin spread across her face with the speed of someone who had just caught her friend in denial.

"Oh my god," Yunah gasped dramatically. "You do want to know."

"I do not."

"You practically blue-screened in front of me."

Minju turned back toward the mirror quickly, crossing her arms across her chest tightly.

"I was simply caught off guard by how ridiculous your question was."

Yunah hummed. "Mhm."

"It's not like I care what he wears."

"Yeah, sure you don't."

"He could show up in a trash bag and I still wouldn't care."

"That sounds weirdly specific." Yunah's reflection struggled not to laugh.

Minju narrowed her eyes at the mirror.

Annoying as it was, Yunah's question had already planted itself in her brain like a virus, already creating more thoughts and images in her mind uninvited.

What would you look like?

Would your hair still be slightly messy because you always forget to fix it?

Would your outfit stay smooth all through the night or would you move enough to mess it up and create wrinkles.

Would you somehow still look annoyingly comfortable with everyone else while she shoved herself to a corner?

But most importantly,

Why was she thinking about this?

"This is your fault," Minju muttered.

Yunah looked offended. "For being a supportive friend?"

"For being so annoying like everybody else."

Minju groaned and dropped into the small platform seat beside the mirror.

"I genuinely don't understand why everyone acts like prom is some grand event."

"Because for some people it is."

"It's dancing in the school gym."

"It's about the memories you make throughout the night."

"You get tabbed for pictures that are way overwise."

"C'mon, it's romantic."

"Disgusting." Minju made a face like she had tasted expired milk.

"That's very bold coming from someone who literally accepted crocheted flowers from a boy and carried them home like they were the ark of the covenant." Yunah laughed.

Minju went completely still.

"H-he was just being generous." She replied.

Yunah's laughter only grew louder.

"Generous?" she repeated. "Minju, he bought you handmade flowers because you once said real ones die too fast. That's not generosity. That's him remembering something oddly specific that came out of your mouth on a random day."

"That does not mean anything." Minju's face heated immediately.

Yunah stared at her as the expression on her face turned into the blank one her friend always used.

"It's very surprising how long you've gotten when you are this dense."

"I am not dense." Minju gasped.

Yunah let out a laugh so loud that one of the employees glanced over in concern.

"You absolutely are," she said, wiping at the corner of her eye. "You're academically gifted yet socially...dense."

Minju stood from her seat again, glaring as Yunah approached her..

"Let me ask you something," Yunah said.

"No."

"You don't even know the question."

"And yet I still know I won't like it."

Yunah ignored her.

"When he gave you those flowers, did you throw them away?"

"No." Minju's lips pressed themselves together.

"Did you leave them somewhere in your room and forget about them?"

"...No."

Yunah's eyes widened theatrically. "Wait. Don't tell me."

Minju immediately looked away.

"Oh my god," Yunah whispered like she had uncovered government secrets. "You kept them somewhere special."

"I did not."

"Minju."

"They're on my desk." she groaned.

Yunah continued to stare at her.

"They're on my desk," she repeated through gritted teeth. "And before you say anything, it's only because throwing them away felt wasteful."

"You stare at them before bed, don't you?" Minju gasped at how easy she was to figure out. "I hate talking to you."

"You like him." Yunah said, looking far too pleased with herself.

"No." Minju immediately shook her head.

"You do."

"No."

"You are literally blushing."

"It's just hot in here."

"We're standing in a place with air conditioning."

She scoffed as turned back toward the mirror and stared at her reflection.

The teal dress really did look nice and it was unfortunate because now she actually looked like someone attending prom with the possibility of being looked at by everyone else.

Her fingers lightly touched the frills of her dress.

"What if I look ridiculous?" she asked quietly.

"You don't." Yunah's teasing softened almost instantly.

"That's easy for you to say."

"No, Minju," Yunah said gently. "You really don't."

Minju met her eyes through the mirror.

Yunah smiled, "You look beautiful."

Just like that, all of Minju's sharp yet sarcastic defenses seemed to fade away.

Her shoulders relaxed, only slightly.

"And when (YN) sees you during prom, I hope he forgets how to breathe." Yunah immediately continued.

"Yah! Noh Yunah!" Minju nearly slipped on the platform.

"What? That's supposed to be a good thing."

"It is not a good thing if he actually passes out and dies in front of me."

"Fair point. That would ruin the mood." Yunah shrugged.

Minju turned to look at herself in the mirror once again. The skirt of the dress pooled around her shoes as she held them.

For a moment, she simply stared.

"This still feels weird." She narrowed her eyes at her reflection.

Yunah laughed from behind her. "Looking pretty?"

"No, that's normal. I always look pretty." Minju flicked some strands of her hair behind her.

Yunah tried to hold in her laugh before it bursted right out of her.

"Oh my god," She wheezed through a breath.

"Why are you laughing like you're choking?" Minju raised a brow at her friend.

Yunah clutched her stomach dramatically as she tried and failed to recover.

"You said that with a completely straight face."

"Because it's true."

"That might be the most confidence you've shown all year."

She rolled her eyes and stepped off the platform carefully before one of her sneakers slipped on seemingly air and almost sent her crashing into a rack of expensive dresses.

"Yeah, shown a lot of confidence with that one." Yunah was practically folded in half now, laughing so hard she had tears gathering in her eyes.

The rack of expensive dresses trembled violently as Minju grabbed it on instinct, saving both herself and a hundred thousand won worth of fabric from falling to the floor.

The heat started to build up around the rest of her face as Yunah gathered herself somehow and helped her up.

"If you're gonna break the dress already, at least go to prom first."

"I meant to do that," she said immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, just go get changed again then we could head home."

Minju released the dress rack slowly, using the thought of home to hide her embarrassment.

Once she had her footing, she muttered under her breath the entire way back to the fitting room.

I hate this.

Why is this dress so stupidly long?

I should've stayed home and done literally anything else.

As Minju stepped out of the fitting room, finally dressed in her usual clothes again and no longer one misstep away from ruining the entire store, Yunah waited for her in front of the register with the dress already protected under a plastic sheet.

"What are you doing? I've already decided that I'm not going."

Yunah smiled politely at the woman across the counter. "Ignore her. She says that every fifteen minutes or so."

"I'm serious this time."

"Yeah but you were serious the other times too."

Yunah handed over her card before Minju could reach out and stop.

The machine beeped, and soon after payment was accepted for the both of them.

Just like that, Minju's fate was sealed with one very cheerful receipt.

The employee handed over the garment bag with a smile. "I hope both of you enjoy prom."

Minju forced out something of a smile as gratitude while she imagined herself leaving already internally.

The moment they stepped outside, the cool evening air hit her face.

She inhaled deeply.

The city streets glowed under streetlights while people walked past carrying an assortment of things, shopping bags, purses and backpacks as they traveled through the sidewalk.

Yunah bumped her shoulder lightly, their bags tapping each other in the process.

Minju looked between them before looking away.

"Thanks for the dress." She mumbled.

"No problem! That's what friends with rich parents are for."

Minju let out a quiet scoff.

"That sounds unbelievably spoiled when you say it out loud."

"What? It's true." Yunah gasped loudly. "My mom said if I was going to spoil myself, I might as well do the same for my friends."

Minju rolled her eyes before she started down the sidewalk. Yunah soon followed her footsteps that led them to the nearest bus stop.

Along their little stroll, Minju had fallen quiet though that wasn't that much different to what she normally did but her friend felt something was off in her silence.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you silent?"

"Were you expecting me to start freestyling to keep the conversation going? Minju answered sharply.

Yunah chuckled as she shook her head. "Anyways, I was just wondering..." she said, moving on to something new.

"What if he asks you to dance?"

Minju stopped walking so abruptly that someone behind her nearly walked into her.

"What?"

Yunah turned around slowly, entirely too pleased with herself.

"At prom."

"I heard you."

"Then why do you look like your soul just left your body?"

Minju swallowed a breath then she started walking again at a pace that looked suspiciously like fleeing her question.

"That won't happen."

"You sound very sure." Yunah matched her pace.

"Because he would never ask me."

"And why not?"

"Because..." she started before she softened. "Because why would he? He's this outgoing, social butterfly that anybody could just walk to and I'm just...Minju."

"Saying that as if you didn't just call yourself pretty earlier." Yunah replied quickly after.

Minju froze on the spot as her breath stopped midway down her throat.

After another chuckle, her teasing expression softened slightly.

"You know," Yunah said quietly, "sometimes I think you're the only person who doesn't realize how much he likes being around you."

Minju laughed once in disbelief.

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"He waits for you after class."

"That's because our classrooms are right next to each other."

"He bought your favorite snacks that one time."

"It isn't my fault he also likes the same flavor of chips and bought one too many."

"He remembers things you say that even you forget saying," Yunah continued.

Minju opened her mouth as she remembered the bouquet sitting on her desk.

"That proves nothing." she finally said after another moment.

"Minju." Yunah gave her a long look.

"What?"

"He bought you crocheted flowers."

"That is just a one time thing..."

"He bought them because you said people spend money on things that wilt after a week," Yunah said in one breath, "That's not something who just wants to be friends with you would do!"

Minju turned to face her, brows burrowed in slightly. "I remembered other things he says but I also remember things you say and all of our other friends said, it isn't unusual to do so."

Once Yunah was shut down, she turned to take more steps down the sidewalk.

"Then what about the way he looks at you?" She heard her say from behind.

Minju froze on the spot yet again.

She didn't turn around and she didn't breathe right away either.

"In what way?" she asked, but it came out softer than she intended as if it was from her own curiosity than to retort

Behind her, Yunah didn't answer immediately.

"The way he looks at you," she repeated, slower this time, "like—like he was always only looking at the moon in the sky and not the miniscule stars around it."

Minju let out another short and disbelieving scoff.

"That sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale."

Yunah gave a small, almost helpless laugh, like she knew exactly how ridiculous it sounded and still meant every word anyway.

"It is," she said simply. "That's kind of the problem."

Minju finally turned her head a little, just enough to glance back.

"You're saying things like that again," she muttered. "You're going to make me regret accepting that dress."

"No, you're going to regret not noticing things sooner," Yunah corrected.

Minju scoffed, but it came out weaker this time. "There's nothing to notice." she continued on, approaching the blue-roofed bus stop down the sidewalk.

Yunha quickly caught up with her, matching her pace before she asked another question.

"When he looks at you...do you really not notice it?"

Minju's steps slowed again.

Streetlights painted soft light across the sidewalk while cars passed in one by one beside them. Somewhere nearby, teenagers laughed too loudly outside a convenience store. The world kept moving as if Minju's heart hadn't suddenly decided to perform cartwheels against her ribs.

She tightened her grip around the bag she was holding.

Minju sighed through her nose.

"Of—of course I notice when people look at me," she said carefully.

Yunah tilted her head. "And?"

"And..." Minju hesitated as she realized the problem.

The problem was that she noticed everything.

The way your eyes always found her first in crowded classrooms.

The way your expression softened whenever she rambled about things she claimed not to care about or when she was proclaiming to the world how much she hated you.

The way you looked proud whenever she succeeded at something as if her achievements somehow belonged to you too.

The way your gaze lingered just a little too long sometimes before you awkwardly looked elsewhere.

And the worst part?

She noticed how her stomach flipped every single time.

Minju stared ahead at the bus stop.

“I think…” she said, softening her voice. “I think he looks at me like I’m worth more than what I am.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could grab them out of the air and shove them back where they came from.

“That’s not a good thing,” she added after a moment, more to herself than to Yunah.  

Yunah glanced at her. “Why not?”

“I just…” she started, then stopped before she tried again. “I don’t know what he’s seeing when he looks at me like that.” 

The girl next to her exhaled softly, like she’d been holding it in for a while. 

They walked under the bus stop.

Minju took a seat first before Yunah sat down next to her.

“Do you think he’s wrong for looking at you like that?” she asked, placing the bag over her lap.

Minju hesitated, “I don’t know,” she admitted. Then, almost stubbornly, she added, “Maybe he is.” 

Yunah hummed softly, her voice carried by the soft breeze that blew by. The light above them flickered then steadied. She leaned back slightly, letting the bench creak under her weight.

“I think I know what you're afraid of.” she finally said. 

Minju looked over with the sides of her eyes.

“You're afraid of someone actually seeing you and for them to actually care.” Yunah said in a single breath. 

She heard a scoff beside her.

“Since when were you this poetic?” Minju mumbled before she felt a soft shove against her elbow. She rubbed the spot slowly.

“Seriously though,” Yunah leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees. “You’re scared that if you believe he likes you and you’re wrong, you’ll feel stupid.”

“That’s—” Minju tried to retort.

Keyword, tried.

Her shoulders eased either in defeat or they also grew tired of her hiding behind herself.

“I just think,” she said quietly, “that he'll just leave after he realises I'm not as interesting as he thought.”

Minju’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“My grades are good.”

“I know how to make myself useful.”

“I know how to be someone people can rely on.”

Minju looked up at the traffic in front of them.

“But when that’s gone…”

She swallowed hard.

“What’s left?”

Yunah looked at her like she couldn’t believe Minju could sound like this.

“What’s left?” she repeated softly.

“Mhm, yeah.”

Yunah reached over and flicked Minju’s forehead.

“Ouch!”

“What’s left,” Yunah said, ignoring her glare, “is the girl who argues with teachers when they grade unfairly.”

Minju blinked at her.

“The girl who pretends she hates helping the younger years but somehow always does when they ask, even if it's the simplest thing.”

“The girl who acts annoyed when her friends call her crying at two in the morning but still picks up every single time.”

Minju stared at her.

“And the girl who should come out of hiding and face her feelings head on.” Yunah smiled softly.

The bus stop fell quiet around them.

A bus roared past without stopping, wind following behind it hard enough to push loose strands of Minju’s hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear absentmindedly.

Yunah smiled softly at her then her expression relaxed again.

“It shouldn't be that easy.” Her head dropped again. “When people like you,” Minju said softly, eyes fixed on the pavement below her shoes, “there’s always a version of you they like first.”

“The useful version.”

“The smart version.”

“The version that gets things done.”

Minju laughed bitterly under her breath.

“And when they find out you’re actually difficult or insecure or annoying or that sometimes you say the wrong things and push people away before they can leave first…”

Her throat tightened.

“They leave anyway.”

Yunah stared at her friend like she was seeing a side of Minju had been pushed away for years.

She reached over and grabbed Minju’s hand, warmly and sincerely.

“He already sees those parts.”

“What?” Minju blinked.

Yunah squeezed her hand.

“He’s seen you snap at people, seen you overthink, seen you act like you hate compliments and seen how cranky you are before tests.”

A reluctant laugh escaped Minju before she could stop it.

Yunah smiled softly at the sound like she had been waiting for it.

“And he still stayed.”

Minju’s smile slowly disappeared.

“He stayed after all of your bad moods, he stayed after your sharp words, he stayed after every opportunity he had to lose interest.”

Her voice softened again.

"And he still stayed, didn't he?"

Minju looked away first, her ears beginning to burn. She leaned back against the bench and looked up at the night sky.

There weren’t many visible stars tonight, just the moon still shining brightly high above the city.

Against all logic, her thoughts drifted back to you.

Your laugh.

Your stupidly kind face.

The way you looked at her like she was something soft enough to protect and strong enough to admire at the same time.

“So what if he asks me to dance?” she whispered.

Yunah turned so fast she nearly fell off the bench with a gasp.

“So you are imagining it!”

Minju groaned immediately. “Why are you yelling?”

“Because you want him to dance with you!”

“I said what if. That is not the same thing.”

“If he asks you to dance—” Yunah grabbed both of her shoulders dramatically. 

“He won’t.”

“and that’s a very weak if, because I just know he will—”

“Yunah.”

“YOU are going to say yes.”

“I don’t dance.” Minju stared at her as if she was speaking in another language.

“You just sway awkwardly for three minutes and it'll all be over. That’s literally all slow dancing is, you just do the dance!”

“That sounds horrifying.”

Yunah rolled her eyes.

“And despite that, I think a tiny part of you wants it to happen.”

Minju looked away first, not wanting to give her friend any more fuel for her teasing.

As if it were on cue, their bus pulled up with a loud screech.

The doors pushed themselves open.

Minju stood up from the seat first.

“Go on, be careful on your way home.” Yunah said, standing up right after her. “I’ll take a cab back to my parent’s place.” 

Minju hesitated before the first step.

Just a small pause, right there at the edge of the bus door, like her body had briefly forgotten which direction it was supposed to go. 

“…you too,” she muttered, not quite turning around.

Yunah smiled, raising a hand at her. “Text me when you get home.”

“I always do.”

“I know. I just like saying it.”

Minju rolled her eyes at her then finally stepped onto the bus.

-

"I'm home!"

Minju closed the door behind her with a heel and locked it soon after.

Her voice echoed faintly throughout the house with no response coming from any corner.

She wasn't expecting any different.

Her mother often worked late shifts at the hospital as one of the nurses going through the halls and going room to room while her father usually didn't come home until long after midnight if he was buried under paperwork at the firm.

The apartment was quiet in the familiar way that felt neither lonely nor comforting.

It was just the way it normally was.

Minju slipped off her shoes near the entrance and lined them up neatly against the wall out of habit before dragging herself further inside.

She walked through the dark living room and to the kitchen where she turned on the lights.

Moments after, her footsteps carried her up the stairs and towards her room where she pushed the door open and flicked open the light switch for her to see the lightly pink walls and her bed that had sheets and pillows of the same color scheme.

She placed the bag over her bed and walked to the long mirror that stood beside her closet. Leaning in, she took a closer look at herself, carefully pushing some strands of hair behind her ear.

Minju grabbed a plush headband that hung from the side as she slowly got started with her nightly routine that she had done plenty of times before.

She began with a warm bath then began applying all of the facial products she needed in front of the mirror.

When she was back in her room, she quickly got changed before heading downstairs for her dinner.

The soft whirring of the microwave echoed through the home as Minju leaned against the counter waiting for the small cup of instant noodles to finish cooking.

This was how her nights normally went when both of her parents were still out by nighttime.

Not that she minded though, of course.

That was what she always told herself.

She thrived in silence anyways, that was where she felt mostly like herself. She could make noise all she wanted, make whatever she wanted to eat, accidentally drop a pan or two, shout down the halls and watch the TV loudly with no repercussions.

But sometimes, she wouldn't have minded it.

She wouldn't have minded if she came home to a freshly cooked meal.

She wouldn't have minded if someone asked how her day was.

She wouldn't have minded if someone asked how the dress looked on her.

DING!

The microwave came to an abrupt stop as the light inside died.

Minju stared at its small window for a moment before pushing herself off the counter.

The cup was warm in her hands as she peeled back the lid.

Steam rose upward, fogging her vision for half a second before disappearing just as quickly.

She grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer and made her way back to her room.

Placing it over her desk, she crouched down under the table and after a couple of plugs being pushed into sockets, the computer whirred to life.

The screen blinked awake as it transitioned to her home screen.

Minju pulled herself back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she stirred her noodles absentmindedly. Her desk was cluttered in the very specific way only her desk could be, stacks of neatly highlighted notes, pens sorted by color., sticky notes with deadlines scribbled across them, a half-finished worksheet she had promised herself she would complete tonight.

She looked right beside her lamp, her eyes narrowed.

The crocheted flowers still sat where she last placed them, inside a glass cup she had stolen from the kitchen because she refused to admit she needed somewhere "proper" to put them.

The soft yarn petals were still perfectly intact.

Minju let out a dramatic sigh before taking a bite of noodles, reaching over to her mouse and clicked some apps open allowing her to spend time on another hobby of hers.

Video games.

She continued eating as a queue continued to count upwards on her screen.

She was almost finished with the cup of noodles when the words popped up on her screen.

'Match Found!'

"Finally." Minju straightened in her chair immediately, nearly dropping her chopsticks onto her keyboard.

She clicked accept without hesitation, adjusting her headset over her ears as the loading screen appeared. The game music swelled dramatically through her headphones while usernames slowly populated the lobby.

Sometimes, this was better than what real life had to offer because games are wonderfully simple.

You either won, lost or drew.

You either carry your team or watch them make decisions so catastrophically stupid that it makes you wonder how they managed to survive crossing a road in real life.

Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard as the match officially began after bans and picking which champion to use.

-

The game went on as usual, taking most of Minju's focus.

Beside her keyboard was where her phone was, laying with a dark screen before it suddenly buzzed to life.

The vibration cut through the low hum of her computer.

Minju didn't notice it at first.

She was mid-fight, her fingers were prepared on her skills, eyes sharp, posture leaning forward like she could physically intimidate the enemies to feed their gold into her.

But then it buzzed again, then again and one more to fully gain her attention.

"That better not be Yunah."

She dodged another attack before quickly glancing down.

Her phone screen lit up and her entire body froze.

Your name with three unread messages.

Her character stopped moving entirely.

Which proved to be a catastrophic decision.

You have been slain.

Minju looked at the grayed screen in front of her with the timer ticking down.

With a disgruntled sigh, she picked up her phone to finally read what you had sent her way.

Her respawn timer continued ticking down in the corner of her monitor.

"What kind of question is that?"

She stared at the screen.

Was this normal?

Did people text each other about prom so casually?

Was there a hidden meaning?

Was he asking if she had a dress?

If she had plans?

Worse, what if he was going to ask if she had a date?

Her champion respawned but she didn't move.

She picked up her phone for a moment.

Three little dots appeared on her screen immediately.

Her eyes narrowed themselves.

The phone buzzed again.

Just like that, her stomach dropped.

For a second, Minju genuinely considered throwing her phone across the room. Instead, she stared at the message so hard it nearly burned into her retinas.

Hesitantly, she typed right back.

Minju stared at your reply in complete disbelief.

"What." her eyebrows slowly furrowed.

Was that really it?

Was that all you were going to say after causing her entire body to freeze in place?

Her phone remained still in her hand before her attention was pulled back by the familiar pinging sound. Her eyes drifted back to her screen where multiple question marks started appearing around her character.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." Minju mumbled, placing the phone down and already reaching back for her mouse.

Then her phone buzzed again.

Minju didn't look at it.

Actually, she refused to look at it.

Her eyes stayed glued to her monitor, fingers snapping back into motion as if nothing had happened.

A picture passed through her imagination right after, one that was you staring up at your phone and waiting for her reply.

Maybe you were looking at your phone with stupid puppy dog eyes that would have totally worked on her.

Her jaw tightened.

No, she would have to reply to you right after the game.

She wasn't going to reward you for appearing out of nowhere, make her mind race just from one message then cower back to whatever hole you crawled out of.

Minju clicked furiously around her screen.

And after multiple team fights around the map, across the three lanes and inside towers, the victory carefully materialized itself on her screen.

Her phone buzzed a couple more times through all of it and she was proud enough of herself to not check it even once.

She reached for her cup of noodles instead only to discover the broth had gone cold.

Finally, she picked up her phone again and opened them to see the messages you've left.

And just like that, all of her irritation dissolved and so did most of her curiosity.

"...idiot." she mumbled.

Minju stood up from her seat, contemplating whether to still type up a reply.

Then she heard a sound from downstairs.

A rhythmic tapping against metal that echoed softly through the gap she'd left open on her door.

She was sure that she locked the front door when she got back and she was even more sure that neither of her parents left anything else open downstairs.

But still considering that she was home alone, she couldn't help but feel hesitant.

"What's that?" she dropped her arms back to her side, fingers grazing the screen lightly enough to tap the phone icon over your profile.

Then she walked out of her room.

-

Across the city, you stood inside of your room. Your hand rubbed a towel over your damp hair from the warm shower you just got out of.

Your phone vibrated suddenly against the pillow you left it on.

For half a second, you just stared at the screen.

You pressed it against your ear, towel still hanging around your neck while water dripped from the ends of your hair onto the floor unnoticed.

"Hello?"

From the other side of the call, you could faintly hear the faint sound of her footsteps.

"Hello?" you said again, a bit louder this time.

Silence followed until you heard a loud creak of metal come from her end.

"It was just the tap." Minju spoke, voice full of relief.

The girl stood in the kitchen, hand having just pushed up the faucet and oblivious to what was going on with her phone.

"Park Minju!"

The girl turned around the empty home, startled by the voice of someone calling her name. Looking across the dim living room to each dark corner, she could've swore she didn't imagine it.

"What the hell?" her grip on the phone tightened instantly.

"MINJU." On the other end of the call, you nearly choked.

She looked down to her hand as the realization slowly and painfully set in.

"Did you call me?" she asked, pressing the phone to her ear.

"What—No, you were the one who called me!"

"That must've been some kind of mistake," Minju scoffed. "I didn't call you."

"Well that's weird, I specifically remember seeing your contact calling my phone."

"Then it was an accident, that's all." She looked at her screen, "I'll hang up now, bye."

"Minju—wait!"

"...What." Her thumb hovered over the screen.

"What were you doing just now?" you asked quickly, words almost tumbling out of you.

Minju caught up half a second too late.

"Why are you asking?"

"I don't know, you seemed a little spooked when I picked up the call so I was wondering."

"It's nothing, I've already dealt with it. Is that all? Goodnight."

"Wait—wait! Maybe we could...talk for a bit." your voice trailed off on the line.

Minju's entire body went still.

The kitchen suddenly felt far too quiet.

The refrigerator hummed softly somewhere behind her. The clock seemingly ticked on louder than it was before. And through the phone pressed against her ear, your voice waited carefully on the other side with one foot tapping against your floor.

Talk?

For a bit?

Her first instinct immediately set in and almost acted on its own.

No.

Absolutely not.

Because talking to you for "a bit" somehow always became twenty minutes of bickering, accidentally saying something she shouldn't have, laughing at things she pretended weren't funny, and hanging up feeling strangely lighter afterward.

Yet.

"What do you wanna talk about then?" Minju leaned one shoulder against the kitchen counter, narrowing her eyes at absolutely nothing.

"Prom's soon, maybe that."

Minju immediately regretted asking.

Because now the topic somehow materialized itself in front of her again.

Prom.

She was once again reminded of that stupid dance occupying half the school's collective brain cells. The same event everyone kept talking about like it was some life-changing cinematic experience instead of awkward teenagers renting fancy clothes to stand around under dim lighting and pretend they knew how to dance.

"That sounds terrible already," she muttered.

You laughed quietly through the phone. "You haven't even heard what I was gonna say."

"I heard enough."

She wandered slowly out of the kitchen and into the living room, phone tucked against her ear while her feet dragged lazily across the floor.

On your side of the call, you dropped onto the edge of your bed with the towel still hanging around your shoulders.

"So," you started carefully, "are you excited for it?"

"No."

"That answer came out way too fast."

She sank onto the couch eventually, curling one leg underneath herself.

"I just don't really get the hype," she continued. "Everyone's acting like it's some grand and magical ball. And everybody's going in their own carriages with big dresses and flashy suits."

"Were you just describing Cinderella?"

"Shut it."

You laughed again.

That stupid laugh.

Minju stared blankly at the ceiling while listening to it fade through the speaker.

A short silence settled between you afterward. It wasn't awkward, it was simply silence shared across the line.

It wasn't long before you broke it though.

"Do you already have someone you're going with?"

She heard the question a second too late and didn't know how to act.

"Why?" she asked carefully.

"I was just wondering. Because if you were—"

"No," she answered quickly, too fast to sound casual. "I'm not going with anyone."

From your side, your shoulders loosened from the tension forming in them before you even noticed.

"Really?"

Minju frowned immediately. "Why do you sound relieved?"

"I don't sound relieved."

"You absolutely do sound relieved."

"I do not."

"You do."

You let out an exasperated breath through the speaker. "Fine. Maybe a little."

Her stomach flipped so suddenly she nearly hated herself for it.

Minju pressed her lips together hard.

"But why were you asking?"

For once, you didn't dodge the question because across the city, sitting at the edge of your bed with damp hair and your heartbeat trying to punch through your ribs, you figured you had already come this far.

"Because I wanted to ask if maybe you'd go with me and maybe save me a dance?"

Everything inside Minju stopped.

Inside her chest was nothing for a moment, absolute silence for one terrifying second then it all came at once.

Heat rushed straight to her face so fast she physically covered her mouth with her hand despite the fact you couldn't even see her.

You continued before she could respond. Probably because you were panicking too now.

"Not like a huge thing or anything," you rambled quickly. "And I know you said you hate prom and dancing and basically joy itself but I just thought maybe since we'd probably end up talking to each other there anyway and we already know each other and you wouldn't have to deal with random people asking you and I just thought maybe it'd be easier if we went together and I'm talking too much now, aren't I?"

The silence that followed almost killed you before you faintly heard something from her.

A short breath, one where you weren't sure if she laughed, sighed or scoffed.

"Idiot..."

"W—what?" you replied.

Minju slowly lowered her hand from her mouth though the heat in her face refused to disappear.

Her heart was beating so loudly now that she didn't know what to do with it.

How was she supposed to respond to that?

She pressed her lips together harder.

"Okay." she finally said.

"What was that? What did you just say?" you replied quickly, fumbling over your words.

"I said okay, I'll go with you. It's not like I have anybody else. Dancing on the other hand, I'll have to think about it."

"...Wait seriously?"

The sheer disbelief in your voice made Minju's eyes roll over themselves.

"No, I just said yes for fun," she replied, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. "Obviously seriously."

"I thought you were gonna reject me."

"I almost did."

"Thankfully you didn't change your mind."

A laugh escaped you then, like you were finally able to laugh without weights over your shoulders.

And annoyingly enough, hearing it did something strange to her heartbeat again.

Minju reached up and pressed the back of her hand against her cheek.

It was still warm.

"So this means you're my prom date now?" you asked carefully as if you still didn't fully believe it.

"Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like..." she faltered immediately. "Like that."

You grinned despite her not being able to see it. "You're blushing, aren't you?"

"I hate you."

"That means yes."

"It means shut up."

Your laughter crackled through the speaker again, turning the quiet apartment into something softer around the edges. The living room no longer felt so hollow now. The ticking clock faded behind the sound of your voice.

Minju stared at the dark ceiling above her.

"So," you started again after calming down, "does this mean I get to know what dress you picked?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll see it at prom."

"Right, guess I'll just have to wait and see."

Minju hummed through the line.

You snorted quietly, changing the topic. "You know, I was actually trying to ask you earlier through text."

"Then you cowered away?"

"No, it's just that." you started, "I just thought that if you heard it come from me directly, you wouldn't think of it as me joking around."

Minju's expression softened before she could stop it

The teasing reply she already had prepared dissipated.

Because somehow, underneath all your awkward rambling and stumbling over words, she understood exactly what you meant.

If it came through text, she probably would have overanalyzed it.

If it came through text, she might have convinced herself you were joking.

Hearing your voice now in its slightly breathless and embarrassingly sincere way through the speaker, made it impossible to misunderstand.

"Well, are you?" she asked more as a rhetorical question than anything else.

"What? No—of course not."

Minju let out a soft chuckle.

"I'm glad you called and asked though."

"Well, technically you called first."

"It was an accident."

"There are no such things as accidents only—"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Okay, okay, fine." you replied with a groan. "So um...I guess I'll see you then?"

Minju tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she stared across the darkened living room.

"Yeah," she answered quietly. "I guess you will."

On your side, you leaned your head back against the wall behind your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with the kind of stupid grin that would've absolutely gotten you ridiculed if Minju could see it right now.

"Cool," you replied, and somehow even that one word sounded too happy as you said it.

Minju rolled her eyes instinctively yet the corners of her mouth betrayed her again anyway.

"You sound ridiculous."

"You agreed to go to prom with me. I think I've earned sounding ridiculous."

"I could always back out."

"Yeah right."

A quiet scoff escaped her.

Her home felt less lonely with your voice lingering through the speaker, with the warmth still sitting stubbornly in her cheeks and with the realization that somewhere across the city, you were probably smiling like an idiot because of her.

Minju shifted on the couch, pulling her knees closer to herself.

"You better not step on my shoes during the dance," she mumbled.

Your laugh burst through the phone instantly. "So you are considering the dance."

"I said maybe."

"I'm counting that as a yes."

She hated how easily you answered that.

For a moment, neither of you spoke again.

Minju then glanced toward the clock and sighed through her nose.

"It's late."

"Yeah," you murmured. "It is. We should get some sleep"

Neither of you hung up immediately.

"Goodnight, Minju."

Her heartbeat stumbled again at the softness in your voice.

"Goodnight..." she pulled the phone away first.

The call ended and suddenly the house became quiet again.

Minju stared down at the dark screen in her hand for a long moment before slowly pushing herself off the couch and making her way back upstairs.

The hallway lights cast soft shadows across the walls as she walked, her phone still loosely held in her hand while her heartbeat stubbornly refused to settle down completely.

Back inside her room, the light escaped through the small gap she had left behind. On her table, the crocheted flowers remained beside her lamp beside the rest of her cluttered things exactly where she left them.

Minju glanced at them briefly before dropping onto the edge of her bed.

Prom still sounded exhausting.

The loud music.

The crowded gym.

The dancing.

She still thought most of it was overrated.

Yet for the first time since everyone couldn't stop talking about it, the thought of going didn't seem completely unbearable anymore.

Maybe there was finally a reason to look forward to it after all.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰.:｡✧.｡:｡.｡✱───

There's no point of contact. Not a single photo, a single second, or a single frame in any of the footage you've caught did the girls find you or your lens, even when they're looking right in your direction. Nothing at all. You were caught up in the energy and the chaos of the pit to notice. How their gazes would flicker to the people beside you or behind you, but never land exactly right on you. The way they'd skip past you in favor of someone else. Even when you were frantically raising your sign, practically begging to be noticed, they never tried. 

But it’s all in the past now. The staff are making the announcement, ushering in the VIPs into the backstage lounge by clusters where the send-off will happen. This is your last chance. Your hail mary. After being overlooked the entire night, you believe this is how the universe will rewrite the ending—the plot twist, that this is how it will balance itself out.

You're already at a disadvantage by the time you're being led in. Along the main stretch, barricade and the first three rows after have been occupied by those who were herded in first. People who probably paid their way to priority, you assume—or just plain bad luck, seeing as you’re among the later people to enter. Given your desperation and how everything seems to go against your best wishes, you choose to believe the former. You can try and settle somewhere in the fourth row, behind tall behemoths with their equally obstructive signs and jostling for a partial view of the girls. If they couldn't see you up front, they definitely wouldn't find you now.

Miraculously, your gaze snags on a lone island in this sea of bodies: a spot in the corner on the right side of the room shadowed by a concrete pillar. And no one's taken their spot in it just yet.

So while everyone's busy taking up the prime spots in the main row or closer to the entrance, you stake your claim before anyone else considers it. Given the circumference of the lounge, they're bound to walk past you again. This time, however, you're right at the edge. The very last thing they see before they return to the center. You. It’s as perfect of a goodbye as you’ll possibly get.

A few others pick up late and take their spots around you. No matter. Surely, the interaction you've been expecting the whole night is all but guaranteed.

For the next few tense minutes, everyone anxiously waits. The roar of the crowd inside the venue has softened to a softer, yet still electric rumble. Despite the rather intimate setting, the lounge houses a few hundred strong, you surmise, given how the VIPs stretch across the barrier in several rows like a tidal wave.

Then, from a distance, a door can be heard swinging from a distance, its echo ripping through the room like a call to arms. Everyone stops what they’re doing. The room goes quiet. Their attention focuses on the small hallway on the left, right across your view.

The ripple comes quietly at first, like a receding wave before an incoming tsunami. Then, the room erupts through into a thunderous roar like it's the very first song of the night.

The girls are here. Again. Still wearing their encore fits. Still unbelievably ethereal.

Even from a distance, you can tell they're exhausted. After all, it had only been 40 minutes since the concert ended, and they'd given their all on stage for the better part of 2 hours, to the point where their speeches felt more rehearsed and scripted than ever. But the idol veneer doesn't crack; not completely. What little sign of weariness on their faces effortlessly disappears when the light shines on them, seemingly gaining a second wind, looking ready to go another round. As they turn to the crowd, they’re waving and smiling, professional as ever.

Staff made three things clear: they'll go around once, there’ll be no signing, and no accepting gifts or letters. Everything else—selfies, videos, signs—is fair game. The handwritten letter in your bag now feels meaningless. But not your sign. The same one you've been holding up for the last couple of hours. And somehow, even after all the screaming and cheering, you still have your voice. You'll expend the last of your lungs if it means they'll finally look at you.

They start from the other side of the room, and you watch them deliver their best. From left to right, they slip into fanservice like it's muscle memory.

Gaeul's as calm and calculating as ever. She waves at anyone and everyone she sees. She spots a banner with her face plastered on it with a message printed in Hangul and smiles at them like it's the most precious thing in the world. Then she leans forward to pose for a fan's phone, and the lights above shine like they're meant solely for her. She asks them to show the photo, and after a brief inspection, nods in approval before moving on.

Rei is the people's champion. Hand to her ear, she implores the room to chant her name, listening intently at every voice, making them shout louder and louder. Yet somehow, she notices one standout in the crowd and points at them. A fan holds up a sign asking her to do that stupid gesture (you know the one), and she obliges, complete with her trademark cheeky grin. The crowd roars in approval as they yell out 'six-seven!' before she moves past their section.

Leeseo's sunshine personified. She's bouncing on her feet, but grounded at the same time. Someone makes a half-heart in her direction and she completes it. Then another. And another. Another fan holds up their Erang-e plush in front of her and she tickles the fabric like it were her own. She fulfills everyone's request with an energy that feels relentless, but with a smile reminiscent of Wonyoung: restrained, cautious. Her eyes catch on a girl trying to call her from behind a trash bin, sandwiched by bodies also trying to get her attention, and she meets her halfway. Doesn't matter that her hair's touching the chute; she's gonna meet them all.

Wonyoung is exactly who she is: an untouchable princess, grace given human form. She keeps a careful distance from the barriers; not cold or apathetic, but delicate and guarded. However, every little motion she does is smooth and effortless. She's the most attentive and keen-eyed of the bunch (though they all are). Her skin radiant under the lights, she points at every girl in the crowd, and floats along the line with her usual style. Someone yells if she can do her legendary twirl, and she delivers, leaving that section swooning. Another asks her if she can have a photocard signed; she puts her hands together gently and bows apologetically. To compensate, she waves her fingers around in the shape of her signature and blesses their camera with a flying kiss.

Liz carefully scans the crowd. Not as careful or guarded as Wonyoung or Leeseo, but just—quiet and shy. She finds a fan holding up a little sign and ring asking her to marry him, and she laughs. Make this teasing face, finger to her chin, before mouthing that she'll think about it, and he just fucking loses it. Much like Wonyoung, she keeps a respectable distance from the barricade, but her eyes work quickly through those holding her photocards, banners, and signs to point out every single one. Someone asks her to pose with Rei; she hesitates at first, but Rei spots them and they oblige, and the chemistry is undeniable. 

Lastly, Yujin makes the girls go berserk. She knows she can drive them crazy with anything she does. A slight hint of skin, a flash of her toned midriff is lethal enough. She keeps the motions simple: wave, heart, request. Rinse and repeat. But once in a while, she'll flaunt her body and tease. Whether by posing with her shoulder or lifting the bottom of her shirt to make her stomach clear, she relishes being ogled at. 

Slowly but surely, the members make their trip around the line. Trying to find every face possible, trying to fulfill whatever request they can within reason. No signing stuff or handing gifts or letters, but they do their best everywhere else. Staff and security closely flank each girl, gesturing subtly, whispering behind tightly knit hands: A little bit faster please. We have to go. 

And they try. Even with time against them, they try. Most of their love and affection end up falling in the first three rows; anyone below 5’5 and those further back are hidden behind taller, more demanding hands and a cloud of unruly banners, signs, picket fans, and phones. It's bad luck and poor optics at play.

Not you, though. You're in the right spot. Perfect for them to find you right as they finish their walk around the line.

So you wait. Nervous. Desperate. Each step they take brings them closer, and with you, all the more anxious. The thought starts out small, innocuous: what if they don't see you, what if they stop right before your section, what if—

No. There's no way they wouldn't—

But right now, that's the last thing you want to be thinking about. They're mere inches away, right at touching distance, one member after the other. Gaeul first.

Phone on one hand, homemade sign on the other. Any interaction—just one second of clear, direct recognition through you or lens—is more than enough to complete your night. Your voice finds strength. Here we go.

Gaeul's completing a girl’s heart a few feet away from you. You're screaming her name, still as loud as two hours ago, even though the cracks occasionally show. She waves to someone holding up a Dal-e plush, giving them a thumbs up. The guy that’s been beside you throughout the show and now here shows her a sign with her face photoshopped on an orange in reference to some joke she made during one of her variety show appearances, and she laughs, pointing and asking if she can hold it for a photo. Afterward, her gaze shifts, and you can feel her eyes tilting in your direction. This is it—

But she snags right before you make direct eye contact. She stops on a dime and turns on her heel, walking away from your section slowly, waving to the crowd in the distance. Ouch.

But there's no time to react; Rei bounds in, smiling ear to ear. She high-fives a kid and pats her head, then does her signature aegyo for a fan holding up a sign saying he traveled from the Philippines to see her. Right there, dancing along the barrier, she's also just one glance away from finding you—but she doesn't. Much like Gaeul, she turns around and walks off, done with your section.

The pain doesn't register, at least not right away. Your smile quirks a tad. Hope flickers, but it isn't completely dead. Not until they're all saying goodbye and leaving the room. There's still four more chances. Surely.

The worst thing imaginable isn't about to happen—right.

Leeseo's next, still lively as ever, still infectiously beaming. She completes a heart from someone in the third row, pushing through a wall of bodies between her and the fan sandwiched in there. However, aside from her and doing a magic sign for someone behind you, that's pretty much it; she steps back and waves at the surrounding area, which someone feels intentionally hurtful since her gaze and flying kiss doesn't include you. Then like the other two before her, she proceeds to back away and spins on her heel returning to the center.

Still keeping distance, Wonyoung points and shoots. She blesses every fan with her gaze and her magic fingers. A girl holds up a sign asking her to make a wish since it's her birthday, and she stops. Closes her eyes and puts her hands together, mutters a little prayer, then she blows a magic candle for her. She then spots a fan in the fourth row holding up a peach-shaped sign with a picture of her and Yujin posing together during one of their fansigns. Yujin also finds them and joins her to recreate it. After sharing a laugh, Wonyoung spins away in the other direction.

At this point, you've all but given up. You've lowered the sign and raised a mental white flag. No matter how hard you scream their names, they don't hear you. No matter how much you wave your sign, it doesn't exist. In their eyes, you're like transparent glass they see right past.

You don't break, at least not completely. Your knees crumple as your heart splinters and fractures. The tears are barely held at bay out of fear that you might cause a scene. Not here. Not in front of several hundreds of strangers and your idols right there in an intimate, private setting like this, especially with all the phones. 

Two members remain. Yujin has moved to the back of the line to entertain what you can assume is an acquaintance or some friend, meaning Liz is up first. She blinks, waves tirelessly at every fan she can see. Someone dressed as her from one of her music videos (Elizabeth Helga Muller, obviously) catches her eye, and in a rare moment, she steps forward to pose with her. But it's quick and fleeting; she steps back just as quickly, and returns to waving at everyone within her line of sight. Even so, you appear invisible to her; she stops at a fan beside you, pointing out her face on the guy's shirt before taking her leave.

And finally, Yujin. Back to completing your section, she laughs at a sign held by a guy saying he's cray cray for her. She winks at another fan's camera, then shows off her toned, bare shoulder for good measure. The cheers climb a pitch higher, much to her amusement. You too, are screaming your lungs out; you don't know where this second wind came from. Desperation, most likely. Like if she doesn't find you within the next five seconds, you are probably gonna explode.

Nothing like that happens, obviously. But it doesn't hurt any fucking less. If she was holding a knife, then she twisted it into your heart, took it out, and stabbed you again for good measure.

So yeah. Of course she doesn't see you either.

The last thing she obliges to is a girl's request to say hi to a friend FaceTiming in from the fan's phone. Then she joins the others at the center to wave goodbye. They’ve been waving nonstop, fulfilling a few extra requests before her arrival makes them stop.

"Thank you all for coming! Safe travels everyone!" she yells out, met by a final roar of approval from the crowd. They seem to be more than ready to move on. One stop done; now it's onto the next schedule and beyond.

You don't see none of it, only hear how you've been nothing. That you were, in fact, nothing. There's no point in watching this slow trainwreck of a night unfold any further. No point in fighting the tears and exhaustion too. You've crumpled onto the barrier, your legs giving out and crying in silence, too tired to save face at this point. No one cares anyway. They're all busy celebrating their own wins to notice. No commiserations, no comfort—just a cold, brutal reminder that your best nights are just another day in the office for someone else.

It's never been so over.

"Are you okay?"

The voice is soft. Quiet. Almost lost as white noise in this sea of your own tears and pain.

You're drowning in your hurt to notice or respond.

"Are you okay?" it asks again. Then you feel a touch: gentle, faint, almost indiscernible—on your shoulder.

By instinct, you look up. Your eyes go wide. Yujin.

She’s right there—not gone, not at the center, but crouched on the opposite side of the barrier mere breaths away. She finds you, all wet and teary-eyed, as in, waterfalls streaming down your face, and her features have never looked this soft and tender, even when you've seen her at her most vulnerable. It's not performance anymore; it's the human side of her showing. Even the pillar that's shadowed your presence the entire time can't hide you now; you feel bare, open, exposed.

The other members have followed her too, their faces all equally gentle and concerned. They encircle themselves near the barrier. For you.

You sniffle, shake your head. The tears come faster now, and so does the shame and embarrassment. Of course you wanted your idols to see you—what fan wouldn't want to be seen—but not like this. With all the cameras and faces now watching this unfold, it feels like a spotlight has been thrust upon your very existence.

The crowd's energy has dimmed to a careful, reverent silence. Phones are still raised, carefully capturing the moment, but not a soul dares to raise their voice beyond a whisper. There's no demands, no interruption from any fan asking for more. People are telling each other to hush, to give space, to let you talk. That's how big a deal this is. The staff motions to the girls about the time, their schedule, but Yujin raises her hand and says to give them a few minutes.

"It's—okay," you manage to blurt, still shaking your head. Barely audible, like you're forcing your lungs just to get the words out. "You're already behind schedule—you should go—"

"It's fine," she says, facing you with that puppy smile. "We have time. All the time for you."

Gaeul steps forward, nodding in agreement. "We're not going anywhere. Not until we make this right."

"I'll be fine," you insist, wiping tears from your eyes, averting your gaze, your breaths coming in heavy. "You—you don't have to—"

"We want to," Rei cuts in gently. Still carrying her trademark joyful spark, even in this tense atmosphere. "And you're not fine. We can see that. You don't have to lie to us."

Though she sounds kind and soft to the ears, you wince. The wound is still fresh: how their gazes flicked past you every single time. This feels like a harsh course correction, something whispered to them at the last minute by staff or some other power for good PR—

"We missed you," Liz then chimes in, partially hidden behind Yujin's shoulder, but her eyes steadily linger on you. "During the concert. And here. We didn't see you. And we're sorry."

"You had a sign," Leeseo adds, sounding so tiny it feels like she's the one who needs comfort the most. "You were waving it hard—we just didn't see it. Fully."

"There was a pillar," you argue, sounding feeble in the hopes you can make them go away. Not because you hate them—sort of—but rather you don't know how you can properly handle this. "I didn't expect you to see—"

"We should have," Wonyoung interrupts, tilting her head. In a rare moment, she takes a couple of steps forward, the closest she's ever been to the barriers tonight. "It's our fault for not looking thoroughly. We're sorry."

"No, no," you insist, shaking your head a bit harsher this time. "It's not your fault—it's none of your fault—I'm just—nothing—"

"Stop." Wonyoung cuts in sharply again, firm but compassionate. Her smile isn't the usual elegant, royal mask, but something tender and raw. "You're not nothing, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. Ignoring you was our mistake."

"I can't—" you sob. "I don't think I deserve—"

Leeseo pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket, holds it out to wipe your eye. You allow her; gentle and warm and reassuring. The fans around you have stepped back when the other girls touch the barrier. It's not staff making the command, but their own doing: voluntary and of their own accord.

"I'm not that special—" you insist, taking Leeseo's handkerchief to clean your face; it doesn't work. "I'm nobody. You didn't have to do all this for me—"

"Don't say that," Yujin softly chimes in. "You're our Dive. You're special to us."

"Besides, everyone else here got their moment," Rei adds, caressing your cheek. "Why shouldn’t you?"

All you can do is cry into the handkerchief while the girls softly reassure and comfort you with their delicate touches and overall warmth. No one steps in, not a fan, not the staff. Wonyoung waves them off with her mere stare to let them stay a few moments longer. 

Liz sees the sign lazily resting on your sneakers. You’ve been drowning in your sorrow to realize it’s clattered onto the ground.

"Is that—" she points out, but your eyes tilt down and catch it before she can finish. You hastily pick it up and hide it.

"The sign," Leeseo mutters out, her gaze now drawn to it tucked under your arm. "Can we see it? Please?"

Your face feels like it's been set alight. You hesitate. "It's—stupid. Everyone had cleaner, more memorable signs. Mine is just—embarrassing—"

"Don't be like that," Wonyoung says. "Please. We want to see it."

The room holds its breath. Someone near you mutters show them. For a few moments, the world stops. Waits for what you will do.

So you pull it out. Reluctantly, presenting the sign face forward. You're not an artist (never were); it was made with middle school arts and crafts and held together by prayers. The message itself is simple and in Korean, but they carry what you've been wanting to say for years: 

You make my universe spin. Thank you for coming here.

And beneath it, in smaller text but no less important: 

Please give me a heart <3

They read. Take their sweet time to process every word again and again until their gazes flicker to you, tensely holding it up and waiting. 

"How long have you been waiting for us?" Yujin suddenly asks.

"Four years," you say, blunt and to the point. You could tell them you missed the first world tour because it never came anywhere close. That you had to watch the concert film off some camrip online because it wasn't screened in any theater either. That this country can barely get foreign artists to perform here, let alone K-pop acts, much less a group with their popularity and status. But those two words alone are more than enough to convey years of tireless patience and yearning.

"Thank you," she says, after a pause. "Thank you for waiting for us. And we're sorry. For ignoring you. We didn't realize—"

"I know," you interrupt, holding her hand when in reality, it should be the complete opposite. "And you don't have to apologize. Like I said, I'm nobody. And there were so many people”  —you sigh— “I guess I let my expectations get the best of me—"

"Stop," Gaeul interrupts gently. "That doesn't matter. We should have seen you. You're not a nobody. You waited for so long. Cheered and screamed for us when we finally performed for you. That means the world."

Leeseo makes a heart, as what was written on the sign, but her face looks like it's on the verge of breaking. "You deserve to be seen like everyone else. And we couldn't do that. We're so sorry."

Wonyoung bows slightly. Liz's hands are pressed on her heart. Rei's hands are folded together. Gaeul lowers her head. Leeseo’s still making a heart with her hands. You can feel genuine remorse through their subtle actions. Of course you'll forgive; they’re still human—but you're still under the impression that you don't deserve this—that they're wasting their precious time for something as small as this.

Yujin looks at her members, then back to you. "What can we do for you? A selfie? A video? Tell us. Whatever you want. Please let us make it right for you."

You shake your head. The tears have dried up. You're ready to let go. "It's fine. You don't have to—"

"We want to," Rei interrupts. There's a certainty behind her voice, like she won't take no for an answer. "Everyone had their moment. So should you."

"The send-off is over," you argue otherwise. "You're already behind schedule. Staff are already waiting impatiently.” Your gaze flickers to the staff waiting close by, seemingly indifferent but you can imagine how annoyed they are. “You should be going by now. Seeing you up close" —you sniffle— "was more than enough. I can try again next time."

A pause. Then Wonyoung speaks:

"I promise, we really want to make it up to you. You're not forcing us or anything like that. We chose to come back. We want you to have your moment. With us." 

"No one should leave feeling empty-handed or feeling like they don't belong," Rei adds. "Not a single fan."

"We love you as much as everyone else," Liz says. "We want you here. You deserve to be here."

"Don't do something you’ll regret," Gaeul states, and her words just break you. Not in a crushing way, but in a manner that feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulder.

So you fall apart again; the tears come rushing back out once more. "I'm sorry—I don't think I deserve this—"

Leeseo lunges forward to pull you into a hug. The members try to stop her, but quickly relent. The crowd makes a collective gasp before they fall into silence once again. Staff try to intervene, but Wonyoung catches them with her stare, so they too, step back.

"You do," Leeseo mutters against your ear. "You're our Dive. You deserve the world."

Yujin's hand rests over your shoulder before gently patting you on the head. "You cheered so hard for us. Waited so long to see us. The least we can do is give that love back even a fraction, knowing we can never fully reciprocate it."

"We're not gonna rush or leave," Liz adds, like she's read your mind and knows what you're about to say. Her hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. "They can wait. We can wait. Right now, our time is yours."

And they stay. A few minutes, maybe the next half hour—you're not checking the time—but they really, truly stay. Even when you deny them again twice, thrice—they insist. Saying the same assurances over and over: that you deserve to have the same experience as everyone else. That no amount of refusing can ever get them to change their mind. That you matter. Your feelings matter, and they are all valid.

"Just so you know, we're just as stubborn as you," Rei quips, smirking lightly that you can't help but chuckle a little. The crowd even laughs a little, proving just how much of a mood setter she is. "But go. Cry all night if you must. We'll be here. Until you’re ready."

Eventually, you concede. The last of your fight finally dies, and with it, your resistance. You try to return the handkerchief to Leeseo, crumpled in your hand, but she nudges it back. You tell her you're done crying. 

"Keep it," she says with her soft, wide beam. "So that you can remember tonight. The good and bad parts, but mostly the good parts."

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you genuinely smile.

"I—I want to take those photos now."

The girls' faces light up like the skies have parted.

You're still sobbing when you hand over your phone. Rei gestures to a staff member to take the picture. She voluntarily goes first. Standing beside you while the others give way, she pokes your cheek again while readying herself for the shot. Her transformation into idol mode is almost instantaneous. 

"You're not smiling wide enough," she mutters against your ear, her breath suddenly feeling hot against your skin.

"I'm trying," you answer, "I mean, broken heart and all—"

She doesn't listen; rather she covertly slips a finger behind your back. Nudges you, at a ticklish spot near your ribs to force a giggle right the moment they snap the photo.

"Dude!" you blurt out right after, facing Rei with a face that seems more annoyed than angry, but in a good way. She grins; teasing, mischievous, intentional. The air in the room shifts to something lighter, more serene. The girls smile watching you interact.

All is right, however, when you take a proper photo the second time. She pokes her cheeks while you hover by her side, never feeling more awkward in your life.

Next up is Leeseo. Her energy is a bit more subdued, but infectious nonetheless. Remembering the sign, she asks you to make a heart; you oblige, and she mirrors the gesture, pressing your heads together.

Yujin goes third. She opts for a cool pose; she slings her arm around your neck, and you can feel how toned and strong she actually is. At the last second, she sticks out her tongue right as the camera snaps the photo. She cups your face and reassures you one more time that you're loved before pulling away.

Wonyoung hovers by the barrier, the closest she'll ever get to touching you—or any fan for that matter. She pouts her lips for the picture, punctuated with a wink and she makes them the most graceful things imaginable. Then before stepping back, she blows a kiss directly in your face, and your heart jumps.

Liz shyly steps into the frame, hands folded together. You're more than fine with that. The photo is quick, but she mutters a soft, sincere 'Thank you' and 'We see you' before retreating. As she makes way for Gaeul, Rei jokingly calls out to her: "C'mon. That's it? No pose, no nothing?" And she laughs. Heartily. Liz motions a thumbs up in your direction that you meet with a little chuckle, and she's more than satisfied.

Finally, for Gaeul, she stands close to you. She eases you into the shot with small, rapid-fire questions: what’s your favorite B-side, what's your favorite performance of the night, who's your bias; she laughs when you tell her she's your bias and your favorite solo is Odd, because she knows you're lying but won’t explicitly admit that. She asks if she can hold up your sign for the photo, and you happily oblige. You also take one shot where your hands complete a heart for good measure.

It doesn't matter you've been framemogged into oblivion; you'll cherish every photo for the rest of your life. 

But as you think you're done, Yujin makes one more suggestion:

"One last photo. With all of us."

No one argues. They arrange themselves in their usual positions, with you flanked between Wonyoung and Yujin at the center. Wonyoung quietly hovers beside you, reminding you to smile, that it looks good on you. Liz does a simple peace sign. Leeseo sneakily makes a pair of bunny ears over your head. Gaeul pulls the group close to the point where you can feel them all brushing against you. And Rei, unsurprisingly, goes for your sensitive spot again.

"Say I-ting!" Yujin yells out, and the room echoes in unison, including the crowd itself.

Click.

The photo is taken. The phone is given back to Rei, who hands it back to you for all to see. You're smiling. Wide. True, genuine joy. It's the best photo of the entire night. You don't know how this will make for a wallpaper or lockscreen, given that it was shot horizontally, but you'll figure out how.

The staff that took the photos gestures to them again. "Girls. Time," is all he says, and reality has come to bring you back down to earth.

They nod. Understand immediately. Time stops for no one. Life goes on.

"One more time, we have to say sorry," Yujin says. "For missing you. For making you feel invisible. That's on us."

"You don't have to apologize," you reply, sniffling a little. "I don't—I don't deserve this—"

"You do," Wonyoung reiterates. "You absolutely do."

"You've given us more grace than we deserve," Gaeul states. "For that, we are so thankful."

"Thank you for being gracious," Liz adds. "For giving us a chance to make it right."

"No one should leave feeling like they're neglected or invisible," Rei chimes in. "That includes you."

"We won't forget tonight," Leeseo says. "Especially you. Please remember us fondly."

You simply nod. There's nothing left to say, because you're done fighting. And for the first time in a while, your heart starts beating again. "I will."

Yujin holds your hand. She looks right between your eyes. "Next time. Next show you go to, tell us in advance. We'll find you first."

You gulp your throat. Hope is a dangerous thing. What if they don’t come back. What if you never see them again. What if—

But you’re hoping anyway. "Promise?"

She smiles. Not the idol type that's been practiced countless times, but the genuine, tired kind. Her pinky finger intertwines with yours.

"Promise."

The girls step away for good. The daze is starting to break. They're all kind, gentle smiles and apologetic bows as they wave goodbye.

"Thank you for being our Dive," Yujin mutters, holding your hand a bit tighter before finally letting go and joining the others.

Once more, the girls gather at the center of the lounge. The way the crowd erupts is like a beast finally unfettered from its restraints: raw, awe-inspiring, earth shattering. They're waving goodbye for real this time. However, there's one key difference: when they turn in your direction, at your section, they pause. Make sure you're in their line of sight. The intent is clearer: it’s specifically for you. 

Wonyoung blows one more kiss. Gaeul nods slightly. Leeseo makes one more heart. Rei prods your cheek from afar. Liz puts her hands together close to her heart and bows slightly. Yujin mouths something you can't quite hear, but you can read her lips: We see you. We love you. A tear escapes your eye, but you're waving back. The fire is brighter than ever.

And finally, they file out. The night is well and truly over.

Around you, people are buzzing. Not just with their own interactions, but praising the true nature of the idols they have seen with their own eyes. People who truly live up to the title. The kindest, most genuine souls who deserve everything. 

More importantly, they're celebrating you. Hugs, claps, cheers, pats on the back. People are asking to airdrop or share the photos taken, sending their own POVs of how these six women came back and saved you. Your win is their win too.

From being nothing to becoming the man of the hour. It's overwhelming.

The feeling hasn't fully sunk in. Even with all the evidence on your phone, the last ten or so minutes were like a dream. But the tears, the catharsis—they were all real.

It's almost midnight by the time you make it out of the venue. The girls are likely on their way to the airport now. Even after everything, your best night is simply that: another schedule, another stop on a never-ending grind.

It doesn't make the feeling any less magical.

They really came back. Just for you.

When the realization comes, you can't help but cry. But they are no longer tears of pain, but complete, fulfilling joy.

—————

(A/N: hey so can't you tell i still haven't moved on yet

happy one month show what i am! saw they added kitsch back to the set as an encore track in macau and i fell to my knees at walmart 3 and that's on top of fireworks being a japan exclusive song too. agh the pain of being a sea fan lmaoooo

“Happy birthday Unnie!” A radiating sunshine comes near Hayoung as the rest of the members are preparing to leave the set as the shoot has been over.

“Thank you Jiheon…” Hayoung responded with a deep sigh right after, making Jiheon concerned as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, what’s the matter Unnie? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing much, Jiheon-ah. It’s just…”

Like the smart and clever girl she is, Jiheon got a grasp on why Hayoung is feeling off suddenly. She then reassures her with some encouraging words as well as a few pats on her back as Hayoung faintly smiles with her actions yet she can’t help but still feel the hint of disgruntled despite the day being complete.

“He’ll come Unnie, you just need to wait…”

“I hope so, Jiheon.”

After a couple of seconds of Hayoung contemplating, Jiheon then invites her to join the group as they’re going to go home to their dorm. Hayoung insists as she wants to be alone but she’s later convinced by Saerom and Seoyeon. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

“I’ll just go and sleep alright? Good night and also, Happy birthday again Unnie!” Nagyung cheerfully bid ‘goodnights’ to Hayoung and Saerom as the rest of the members are preparing themselves to sleep in their own designated, shared rooms.

It has been another exhilarating day for the group and Hayoung is definitely tired yet her heart still shouts for that one thing that she’s wanting before the day ends is that you, here on her 25th birthday. 

It has been almost 11 pm, just an hour left before the day is over and you never showed up even in a single second. Hayoung is frustrated upon your absence despite all of the memories she made today. 

“Hey Hayoung-ah, I’m sure that he’ll come here… he’s just maybe rushing just to get you as he’s busy. There’s still hope…”

Saerom’s reassuring tone enlightens Hayoung to still fall on the positive side rather than thinking on the opposite. Maybe, in reality, you may not come but there’s still a fire igniting in Hayoung's heart that you’ll celebrate her birthday with open arms.

“He promised to come here… B-But, I’ll still wait…”

Saerom smiles as she’s enlightened about her thinking. After a few more talks with Hayoung, Saerom then gestured to Hayoung that she’ll go to her room to sleep as a nod from Hayoung is the response. As she’s the only one who’s ‘awake’, she then wanders her eyes from the vast night sky, reminiscing the fun moments with you and the other members. She smiles and giggles with those thoughts, knowing how much all of you mean to her yet she can’t escape the fact that you’re still not here, and brings back the frown on her face.

*doorbell rings*

Jisun then hurriedly walks to the stairs as Hayoung stops her, hoping that it’s you as dopamine starts boosting Hayoung, making her squeal in delight.

“I’ll open the door Jisun-ah, maybe it’s him…”

“Okay Unnie, have fun… The both of you! Ehe…”

Within Hayoung’s actions, Jisun went back to her room as Hayoung opened the door—she didn’t even bother peeking as excitement ran down her veins—and to her surprise, an angel appeared as she was stunned, her joy above the limits, higher than the roof. 

“Oppa! I missed yo-ou…” Hayoung hugs you tightly as her head snuggle on your chest, making you hug her in response without even being able to muster a single word.

It has been months since you last saw her personally after her promotions and the both of you treasured that moment. You felt bad for her because you know that she’s been waiting for you all throughout the day and that hurts you. The both of you knows how busy both your schedules are as you barely got any time to meet her personally, so the both of you depended on the Internet to still manage a healthy relationship but it feels off, it feels like something is missing with that but you never complained any further. You even rushed to their set only to know that they’ve finished shooting, making you anxious as the day’s going to end and you haven’t seen her yet here you are, just inches away from Hayoung, enveloped in a embrace.

“I’m sorry Hayoung-ah. I’m sorry that I’m late. I’m sorry that I’m-”

“Sh-shhh… It’s alright Oppa.” Hayoung puts a finger on your mouth and shushes you. She knows why you’re late and it’s for your benefit, not hers. Hayoung also knows all the things you’ve done just to get here and with that effort, she appreciates it wholeheartedly. Hayoung then kisses you on your right cheek as a giggle comes out of her mouth, her cheeks flushed a tint of red and so are yours, but it’s your ears.

“Oh, how rude am I, come on in!”

You stepped up on their doorstep as you took a look around the dorm, looking different on what you saw last time. 

“Wow, pretty much a lot has changed, eh?”

“Yeah, we arranged a lot of things here and cleaned too. Also… when was the last time you went here, Oppa?”

“About your ‘DM’ promotions, I guess… So??”

“Oh wow, that was a long time ago… I mean not that much but still, yeah.”

As she’s telling a series of stories to you, from the memories she made today up to the simple things she made, you can’t help but be stunned by her beauty, her side profile, which never fails to make you mesmerize. You’re in awe as time feels slower, her voice echoing as she snapped her fingers, realizing that you’re daydreaming about her.

“Yah! Were you even listening, Oppa??”

“Uh-uhh-UH! I’m sorry Hayoung-ah, continue…”

She sighed as she clicked her tongue, continuing what she’s saying as you looked at her in awe, again, her visuals being the epitome of being impeccable and you’re not surprised. You listened to her stories as a series of laughs and teases reverberated around the area. Hayoung smiles are really contagious as it shows everytime you’re together as dopamine runs down your veins. Between her words, you involuntarily said something that shocked Hayoung.

“You’re so beautiful Hayoung-ah…”

“T-Thank you, Oppa…”

Hayoung was stopped between her sentences as her cheeks flushed red from your compliment and her tone went shy. She gets a lot of compliments regarding her beauty but it just hits different when you say it, especially with the sincerity in your tone. 

“Hayoung-ah, you may not know this but, I’m really thankful about everything that we’ve been through. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for the things you’ve done for me. The times when you comforted me, I’m so grateful for all of that. I’m glad to meet you Hayoung, so glad to be with you…”

A sudden silence was broken with your hug as you embraced her tightly, showing your affection towards her as those words made her frozen on the spot. The both aren't used to opening up to each other whenever you’re together as it explains how much courage you gathered to say it and how shocked Hayoung is.

You stroked her hair as you wanted to make Hayoung feel comfortable. Her blossom perfume brushes your nostrils as you smile, knowing that she used the perfume you gave her months ago. Not so long after, the two of them enveloped each other in an embrace as you kissed her forehead, making her squeal in delight as the both of you exchanged smiles. 

“I love you Hayoung.”

“I love you too, Oppa.”

Tears began flowing her cheeks without you noticing. You then wiped it out as the both of you exchanged smiles again, making you adore her pristine features.

“Gosh, she’s just too adorable…” You muttered under your breath as you’re in awe. 

Not so long after, you invited her to watch a movie as she eagerly agreed. She jumped out of the couch as she got you some water because she knows how tiring your schedules were and how tiring it is to get to their dorm.

She then held your hand as she rested her head on your chest, making you smell a familiar scent from the fragrant shampoo that she used—it was also your gift months ago alongside the perfume you gave.

“This will be fun, Oppa!”

“It will be…”

—-------------------------------------------------------

The breeze outside sets up the mood for everything that can be sentimental, yet it’s the opposite to you as it’s just full of ecstasy. She’s your happiness and you’re treasured to have her and vice versa. You never have such joy being with her even though it’s just for a little amount of time. You never complained but rather cherished this moment, this moment enough to be reminisced about in the future.

The movie started rolling the credits as you’re thrilled and intrigued about the story to the point that you didn’t realize that Hayoung was up to something.

“Hayoung-ah… Hayo-”

Before you could continue your second call, you noticed that Hayoung was sleeping soundly and peacefully, so you turned off the television with the remote. You could just adore her flawless features as you’re in awe again. 

“I guess this is where I go… Happy birthday, my sunshine.”

You smiled as you tuck her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead, gesturing a ‘goodnight’ signal to her. As you’re getting ready and facing the opposite to hers, to your surprise, a hand stops you from going as you can see a drowsy Hayoung pleading with you to not go.

“Please stay, Oppa…” her saccharine tone is soft, so soft that it tempts you to not go and just to be by her side until the morning.

“I may disturb all of you and we can meet tom-”

You were shushed by her sudden kiss on the cheeks as her eyes pleaded you to not go, for the second time.

“Please??”

How can you not resist her? With all of the doubts, you stayed and Hayoung regained some energy, just enough to squeal in delight, again.

“Should we sleep somewhere else?”

“Let’s just sleep here, Oppa. I have a blanket by my side.”

“Okay then. Happy Birthday again, Hayoung-ah…”

“Thank you Oppa. Good night.”

“Good night sunshine…”

As your sunshine closed her eyes, magically your eyes closed too as you felt drowsy on how tired you are. This may not be the best of all bonds you’ve been with Hayoung but it’s always special whenever you’re with her, and that’s what matters. 

Twenty-five. A number signifying a quarter of a hundred yet there’s no measurement on how much you love her. Another year was added as there’s more to count, to bond with her and to make limitless memories with her. She’s your everything and you’re happy to be with her, until the end.

---

Because somehow, somewhere between shared school lunches and conversations that stretched a little longer than they needed to, you became the one person who always pulled her out of that quiet safe space of hers.

If she had to describe what you were like, she’d say that you were a storm that dragged her outside by force, well not literally but she still found herself standing in front of a crossing or anywhere else that wasn’t her room.

“Follow me,” you said one afternoon, already stepping toward the edge of the sidewalk as the pedestrian light blinked its impatient countdown.

Minju stood a few steps back, arms crossed, watching the intersection.

“Why are we even here?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

“You always say that.”

“And you always come anyway.”

She clicked her tongue, but she didn’t deny it.

Cars slowed as the light turned red and the crossing light turned green. People began to cross in that synchronized shuffle of strangers who would never look at each other twice.

You glanced back at her.

She hadn’t moved.

Minju looked back at you with the same uninterested look on her face whenever you asked her to come with you. She exhaled, tightening her arms across her chest before looking away.

“Stop sulking.”

“I’m just standing here.”

You laughed under your breath, the sound nearly mixing into the traffic around you.

Minju only looked more irritated by it.

She hated that laugh because it always sounded like you found something quietly amusing about the world, like everything was lighter or more colorful when viewed through your eyes. It made it annoyingly difficult to stay annoyed at you for long.

Which was inconvenient, considering you seemed determined to test her patience at least three times a week.

The countdown at the crossing began flashing.

Without wanting to waste another second, you walked back to her.

Minju still looked elsewhere, one arm still crossed against her chest as the other swiped strands of her hair. She was distracted enough to not notice you reach out for her hand and pull it with you.

“Wha—”

The protest barely left her lips before you were already pulling her forward.

Minju stumbled once, caught completely off guard as her feet scrambled to match your pace.

“Are you insane?” she hissed.

“We have six seconds.”

“That’s not reassuring!”

“It’s plenty of time.”

“That sounds like something people say right before disasters happen!”

You laughed, weaving through the last few people while keeping a firm hold on her hand.

Minju stared at the back of your head in complete disbelief.

This was exactly what she meant.

This ridiculous impulsiveness that always bulldozed through her carefully planned quiet days.

One moment she’d be peacefully existing in her room.

The next she was being dragged across a busy intersection by someone who treated life like it was an empty carnival with attractions and rides that they had to try out without skipping a single one.

You walked further down the sidewalk, still pulling Minju along behind you. She hadn't said anything since then, only looking at the back of your head and then lowering down to your hands that still held each other, fingers loosely connected.

Soon, the park came into view.

Minju slowed first, not enough to stop you but enough to pull your arm.

You looked back.

She was staring at the park gates with squinted eyes, suspicion already growing within them.

“No.”

“No, what?” you replied.

“Anywhere but the park.”

You frowned. “What did the park ever do to you?”

Minju stared at the gates like they were her worst memory.

“It’s loud.”

“It’s a park.”

“There are children.”

“Yeah, anybody could go there.”

“There are also couples.”

You blinked once.

“…And?”

“They’re disgusting.”

You let out a laugh so sudden you nearly had to stop walking.

“Then ignore them, we aren't here to look at people anyway.” 

Minju groaned behind you as the both of you walked through the gates. She looked forward and spotted the colorful drapes of tents in the distance.

Rows of tents stretched across the open field, each draped in bright fabrics that fluttered lazily in the wind. It looked like someone had spilled a box of paint across the park and decided to leave it there. People wandered between booths carrying paper bags and drinks as music played faintly from somewhere deeper in the crowd.

“What is this?” Minju narrowed her eyes.

You turned around and began walking backward again, hands still linked.

“A market.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“It’s a handmade market.”

“That still tells me almost nothing.”

“Local artists, food stalls, collectible shops, random things people make when they have too much free time and want to show it to everybody else.”

Minju rolled her eyes.

Great.

If she didn't make it clear enough that she didn't like going outside very much, she hated it more if she had to be in the middle of a crowd.

And now you had the brightest idea of dragging her to the market.

Minju stopped walking altogether.

Your arm jerked back with hers.

You turned, nearly stumbling from the sudden resistance.

She stood there with a flat expression.

“No.”

You blinked. “We’re doing this again?”

“Yes.”

“We’re already inside.”

“That sounds like your problem.”

You stared at her.

Around you, the market continued on without concern. Someone nearby was loudly advertising handmade keychains. A child ran past holding cotton candy the size of their head. The wind carried the smell of different food across the park

And Minju looked like she’d rather stay in bed.

“There are too many people,” she muttered.

You glanced around.

It was crowded but not overwhelmingly so, yet enough to make her shoulders tense and her brows pinch together in that familiar way you’d started recognizing.

The playful grin on your face softened.

“You okay?”

Minju hated how quickly that deflated her irritation.

“I'm fine,” she replied but you didn't buy it.

“We don't have to go inside, the stalls out here are fine too.”

Minju narrowed her eyes.

“That was your grand plan?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You dragged me across the city like you were helping someone on the run…just to stand outside a market?”

You gestured vaguely toward the nearest row of stalls. “Not really, but I still wanted to check the stalls out here.” 

“That’s somehow even dumber.”

You laughed again, it slipped through the noise of the crowd and found her anyway, annoyingly soft and familiar.

Minju hated how her shoulders loosened at the sound before she could stop them.

The stalls near the edge of the park were quieter.

Far fewer people wandered through this section, most of them drifting deeper into the louder center where the larger stalls and live music were.

Here, the booths were smaller, one sold handmade soaps shaped like fruit, a quiet elderly man painted watercolor paintings at another stall, barely looking up as customers passed, and all kinds of snacks and drinks one could need on a hot summer afternoon like today.

Minju glanced around.

“See anything you like?” you asked from her side.

“No, absolutely nothing.” she replied quickly.

“How about those?” you pointed to a stall.

Minju looked over and spotted a stall selling fluffy hats that were like the ears of animals. 

She stared at the display then slowly turned to you.

“No.”

You looked offended. “You haven’t even tried one on.”

“I don’t need to try one on to know the answer is no.”

“That pink bunny one is practically begging for a chance.”

“It can beg elsewhere.”

You chuckled as you walked over and picked up one that had the design of floppy dog ears. Placing it over your head, you reached for the bunny ears afterwards.

Minju took one immediate step back.

“Don’t.”

You looked at her like you were being deeply misunderstood.

“You don’t even know what I was going to do.”

“Yeah, but I know what you want to do.”

“C’mon, just try it! If you do, I won't have to force you to do anything else. We can even find a place to sit down.” 

Minju looked at you then to the plush hat then back at you as the expression written across your face didn't change.

A soft sigh left her lips before she took it from your hand, fingers brushing over hers with the lightest contact.

She looked to the ground as she put it on. Her head began to heat up from the material, though that didn't really explain how it spread across the rest of her face.

“See, no harm done.” 

Minju didn’t answer immediately.

That was usually your first warning sign.

Instead, she adjusted the bunny hat slightly, as if it might somehow become less humiliating if positioned at the correct angle of denial.

“I look ridiculous,” she muttered.

“That’s right.” You leaned in then nodded with far too much enthusiasm.

Her eyes narrowed instantly.

“I’m taking it off.”

“Wait—wait—no,” you said quickly, hands up in surrender. “I meant it in a good way.”

“There is no good way to look ridiculous.” 

“That’s not true. There are charming forms of ridiculous. And right now, you are one of them. You look cute.” 

Minju froze for a second. Her brain, for once, failed to provide its usual sharp rebuttal and left her with silence.

“Don’t say that,” she muttered finally, a little too softly. “Especially when I look like an idiot.”

“Yeah? Then what does that make me?” you asked, swinging one of the ears to the back of your head.

“An even bigger one.”

You tried holding back a laugh until it broke through your smile. It didn’t sound like a tease but more like you just accepted the fact that you were being a harmless nuisance.

“I’ll take that,” you said easily, adjusting the floppy dog ears on your head like it was a crown you fully deserved.

Minju clicked her tongue again, but it didn’t have its usual snarky tone. She turned slightly away, as if distance could fix the fact that her face still felt warm.

“We should sit,” she muttered.

You brightened immediately.

“Sure thing, I saw a couple of benches by the pond.”

Minju didn’t reply with her words, she simply tugged at the hem of her sleeve again, then started walking without looking at you. 

“Hey, we haven’t paid for those yet—” you raised your hand to get her attention but she simply kept walking.

You looked back at the stall and now noticed the person inside who seemed to have watched the whole thing play out.

The both of you shared an awkward laugh before you pulled out your wallet.

Minju found herself sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree that loomed over her.

The park continued to live on around her and so did the pond that rippled in small, patient waves that folded into each other. Sunlight scattered across the surface in broken pieces, drifting whenever the wind decided to blow.

She sat with her legs crossed as the bunny still sat stiffly on her head. She adjusted them once more, pushing one of the ears back into place.

Beside her, you dropped onto the bench like it belonged to you. The dog ears you had claimed earlier tilted slightly when you leaned back, catching the light in a way that made them look far too natural on you.

Mi noticed and she immediately regretted it.

“You look ridiculous,” she said again, but quieter now.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who’s wearing an animal hat.” 

Minju scoffed and she almost took the bunny ears off her but her arm went back to her side.

“You’re worse,” she muttered instead.

You placed a hand dramatically over your chest like she had deeply wounded your pride.

“Worse?” you repeated. “I let you insult me for free and this is what I get?”

“You’re lucky I’m still sitting here.”

“Want me to say thanks for that?”

“No, it’s a threat that if you say anything more, I will leave.”

You stared at her for a moment before slowly raising both hands in surrender.

“Understood. I value my life.”

“You should.”

A laugh escaped you anyway, quieter this time, careful enough not to push her too far.

Minju leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond again, pretending the conversation was over.

Quack! Quack!

The both of you looked down to the edge of the pond in front of you where a duck sat still on the water beyond the railing.

The duck stared at both of you.

“You hungry, little guy?” you asked.

The duck didn't answer, it simply stared back.

“Maybe we should give it something,” she muttered.

“That’s fair,” you said easily, leaning forward slightly, elbows on your knees before standing up. “I’ve been eyeing all of the snack stalls back there, I'll go get something it could eat, hopefully.”

Minju turned her head so fast the bunny ear flopped dramatically to the back of her head.

“And you're not getting me anything?” She didn't expect for her words to sound the way they did, like she assumed that you were thinking of her too.

You blinked.

Then your mouth slowly curved upward in a grin so unbearably smug that Minju immediately regretted being alive.

“Fine, you want anything?” you asked.

Anywhere but directly at the fact that she had just exposed herself in the most humiliating way possible.

Minju stared at your stupid grin then looked anywhere else but directly at the fact that she had just exposed herself in the most humiliating way possible.

“I changed my mind. Go back to the market and hope you never return.” Her voice came out much flatter than she felt.

You laughed immediately.

“Tempting, but I think you’d miss me.”

“I absolutely would not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I doubt it.” you answered back, already waving her off as you began walking away.

Her eyes narrowed as you disappeared further into the crowd, one hand lazily raised above your head in a wave like you had won something.

Which, annoyingly enough, you probably thought you did.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

Quack!

She looked down.

The duck had drifted closer to the edge of the pond again, staring up at her with the same blank expression it had maintained this entire interaction.

Minju crossed her arms.

“Don’t start.”

Quack!

“I was not going to miss him.”

The duck blinked.

“Fine, maybe I do…a little. So what?” 

The duck remained completely still, as if absorbing her words with far too much brain power for an animal floating in pond water.

Minju narrowed her eyes on it.

“You look way too smug for something I can just pick up and throw.”

The duck swatted its wings. 

She let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the bench, her gaze drifting toward the market where you had disappeared. She could still spot flashes of colorful tents through passing groups of people, along with the occasional glimpse of someone carrying overpriced drinks or bags full of things they absolutely did not need. 

You had only been gone for a few minutes and yet the space beside her felt noticeably emptier.

It irritated her enough that she pulled one of the bunny ears down over her face for a moment before letting it snap back into place.

“This is exactly why I don’t like getting used to people,” she muttered quietly.

The duck offered no sympathy, only another quack.

“It’s bad enough to like someone but it’s far worse if you have to push yourself every time just to see them.” Minju placed her head in her hands in quiet defeat.

Another quack came from her feathery friend as it swam around in the water.

“Glad to see the both of you became friends while I was away.”

Minju’s head snapped up so fast the bunny hat nearly flew off her head.

You were standing a few steps away with a paper bag in one hand and drinks in the other, looking entirely too pleased with yourself.

The duck immediately ditched being Minju’s moral listener and swam toward your side from beyond the railing.

You set the bag of food and drinks down on the bench, the paper crinkling softly as it settled between you. From it, you took out a blue lemonade and a sandwich for yourself, then carefully pulled out the other set meant for her. While your drink swirled around the straw in its cool color, the drink you placed on her side was pink, its color a quiet contrast to yours.

“How much do I owe you?” Minju asked, picking up the drink slowly.

You didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, you paused before you fully sat down, like you had to think over her question a couple times over.

“You don’t owe me anything.” you said.

Minju blinked once.

“What?” she replied.

“I bought it for both of us, don’t worry.”

Minju wanted to argue about paying for herself but wisely chose not to once she saw the blank look on your face.

You sat down beside her again, unwrapping your sandwich like the conversation had already moved on.

She stared at the drink in her hand for a moment longer before poking the straw through the lid with far more force than necessary.

“You still could’ve asked if I wanted to pay,” she muttered.

You glanced at her. “Is buying my friend food a crime now?”

Minju paused at the word and had to shake her head out of it.

“No, but I’m more than capable of paying for myself. I don’t need someone else doing things for me. Aish, now I feel like I owe you something.” she answered, eyes focusing back at the pond right in front of her.

“Relax, I did it because I wanted to. There’s no harm in that, plus, you don’t owe me anything and that’s final.”

Minju scoffed and rolled her eyes where you couldn’t see.

For a while, the moment played out with no words in between, only the sounds of foil unwrapping and the sounds of life throughout the rest of the park.

You stole a glance over to look at Minju. 

She wasn’t doing much besides eating and staring off into the distance. The hat stayed perfectly still on her head and so did the ears. Her hair blew with the short gust of wind that flew by also carrying the smell of something sweet and flowery.

Warmth flushed across your face as you realized you were staring for far longer to be considered just a glance.

Your eyes drifted back down to the paper bag as something else crinkled inside as you shifted on your seat.

“I think I understand why you hate couples,” you said in between bites, looking at the people walking in pairs with smiles that seemed way too wide to be genuine.

Minju nearly choked on her drink. She pulled the cup away from her lips and turned toward you with narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean?”

You looked entirely too calm for someone who had just said something so absurd.

“You called them disgusting, If I can remember correctly.”

“Yeah, that’s because they are.” 

“Is it because they hold hands and stay too close or they just seem way too happy to exist?” you asked.

“Both. I hate it when they lean into each other or talk too loud in places they shouldn’t. Don’t even get me started if they have the nerve to kiss each other in public.” Minju answered, a hard scoff following her words.

“But doesn’t it seem a little nice?”

Minju paused for a breath and looked at you with some suspicion that led her to think you had something hidden in between your words.

“What, you suddenly want to show the rest of the world who you share saliva with?”

You laughed and shook your head at her words and the disgust in her voice. 

“No, I meant the part where they hold hands, lean in and stay close, share umbrellas or one pair of earphones.”

Minju stared at you like you had just voluntarily admitted to enjoying public humiliation.

“You make it sound like it’s just straight from a romcom.”

You shrugged, peeling back another corner of your sandwich wrapper. “I’m just saying it doesn’t look that bad.”

“It looks unbearable,” she replied immediately. “Half of them act like no one else exists.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Her brows pulled together. “What does that even mean?”

You leaned back against the bench and looked toward the pond, your voice quieter now, lacking its usual teasing edge.

“I think it’s nice when someone becomes your first thought.”

Minju went still.

You continued before she could interrupt, your eyes following a pair walking along the path ahead of you. The girl had fallen slightly behind while fixing her shoe, and without even turning around, the guy slowed his pace to match hers like it was natural.

“Like when something funny happens and they’re the first person you want to tell. Or when you see something good and immediately think they’d like it too. Or when you’re in a crowd and your hand reaches for theirs before you even realize you’re doing it or when you somehow see them through it.” 

Minju didn’t answer right away.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup, the small beads of condensation dampening her palm.

“You like someone, don’t you?” Minju asked, more as a tease than a question she wanted answers too, though she wouldn’t mind it.

(She absolutely would mind it.)

“Is that all you got from that?” you glanced at her.

“Yeah, I mean I wouldn’t make love sound all that dreamy if I didn’t have someone in mind.”

“It’s nothing much, I just like the idea of love.” you huffed out a chuckle.

Minju stared at you for a moment longer than necessary.

For some reason, that answer annoyed her far more than if you had simply admitted there was someone else.

“Of course you do,” she muttered before taking a long sip of her drink.

You blinked at her reaction. “Why do you sound offended?”

“I’m not offended.”

“You sound offended.”

“This is how I normally sound.”

Another laugh escaped you before you shook your head. “What’s wrong with liking the idea of love?”

“Everything.” Minju let out a dry laugh of her own and leaned back against the bench.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s simply realistic.”

You turned slightly toward her, curiosity replacing amusement. “Go on, explain it then.”

Minju stared at the pond for a while, watching the duck drift in lazy circles like it had nowhere important to be.

“People over-romanticize it too much,” she said after a moment. “They make it sound life-changing and beautiful and worth every terrible decision they make.”

“And maybe it is.”

“And most of the time people become stupid.” she continued.

You nodded along as if you agreed.

“It’s already tiring enough to talk to people, I wouldn’t imagine myself having to talk to one all my life.” she said in genuine disdain despite some parts of her contradicting her words.

“But you gotta admit, love might not be half bad. Or some parts of it, at least.” you nudged her shoulder a fist softly.

Minju looked at you, grazing over the smile she had slowly come to memorize.

“Maybe.” she answered, biting down on her straw as she took another sip.

You let out a breath then as if you caught her red-handed.

“That means you have someone in mind too.”

Minju nearly inhaled her drink. She coughed once, glaring at you like you had personally orchestrated her own actions.

“What?” she said a little too quickly.

You pointed at her with your sandwich like a detective who thought they surely had the truth with little evidence.

“You didn’t say no or brush it off so that means you actually thought about it and said maybe. Not no, not never in a million years, or even shut up. You said maybe.” 

Minju watched you fully turn towards her fast enough to send the dog ears to one side of your head.

She scoffed, “Fine, maybe I did. You’re the one who started all of this lovey-dovey talk so of course I thought about it!”

“Really now? Tell me, who’s the lucky guy?”

Minju’s eye twitched.

The absolute audacity you had.

You sat there looking far too entertained with yourself, sandwich still in hand.

She wanted to throw your drink into the pond and maybe she wanted to throw you into the pond after it.

Instead, she chose not to, which may or may not be regretted later on.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I’m interested now.” 

“You should put your interest in other things.” 

“Like what?”

“Just shut up already.” Minju let out a sharp breath through her nose and looked away from you. 

The pond suddenly became the most fascinating thing she had ever seen in her life.

The duck floated nearby, circling lazily like it knew what kind of show it watched beyond the railing.

You leaned closer, resting your elbow against the back of the bench as if you had all day to wait her out.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

“You already admitted someone exists, you can’t deny it now.”

“I admitted no such thing.” Minju’s grip tightened around her drink.

“You quite literally just did.”

“I said maybe.”

“Which just means there could be no one but that also means there’s someone.”

Minju slowly turned toward you with a blank, emotionless look in her eyes before standing up from the bench.

“I’m going home.”

“Hey—hey—wait!” you nearly dropped the rest of your sandwich as you scrambled up after her. “Minju, come on, I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re being nosy.”

“I can be both.”

She began walking down the path with quick steps, bunny ears bouncing with each irritated stride.

You stared for half a second before hurrying after her.

“Is it at least someone I know?” you asked with a heavy breath, after you caught up with her.

“Hmph!” Minju let out a sound that could only be described as pure, concentrated frustration before continuing forward. 

You matched her pace easily despite the dramatic huff she threw your way.

“That’s not a no,” you said far too brightly.

Minju stopped so abruptly that a couple walking behind her had to awkwardly sidestep around the two of you.

“You are unbelievably irritating.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”

“I should’ve declined the first time you asked me to go with you.”

“Ouch.” you placed a hand over your heart again like she had delivered a fatal blow.

She resumed walking and you continued on following.

The afternoon crowd had thickened since earlier. Children ran past with balloons nearly larger than their heads, vendors shouted over one another, and somewhere nearby someone was aggressively losing at a carnival game.

Minju kept her eyes forward while you kept yours on her.

You tried to ask her about this mystery person, even in the tiniest details and each time you asked, you were only met with nothing but the sounds of the park.

“Fine, if you’re not going to answer, you could at least take this.” you said as you looked down in the paper bag in your hands.

Minju finally looked back at you, arms still crossed against her chest and watched as you pulled something out.

She slowed to a stop, simply staring at the bouquet now in your hands.

Three small crocheted daisies sat wrapped in pale paper, their stitched petals slightly uneven in a way that made them feel more real and genuine than perfect flowers ever could. A yellow ribbon was tied around the stems to top it off.

“What is that?” Her brows furrowed together.

“Oh. Right.” You looked down at it like you had somehow forgotten you were holding it.

You scratched the back of your neck. 

“I saw it while I was buying food.”

“And?” Minju narrowed her eyes.

“And I thought that they really worked hard on it so I got one,” you awkwardly lifted the bouquet toward her. “And maybe because I thought you would like them.”

Her brain forgot to process her thoughts right then and there.

“You bought me flowers?”

“They’re not flowers.”

Minju stared at you in disbelief.

“Okay, they are technically flowers. But not actually the real thing.” you looked at the bouquet.

“That does not make it better.”

“I thought it did.”

“It absolutely does not, (YN).”

You lowered the bouquet slightly, suddenly looking less confident than you had been all day.

The change in your expression made something in her chest pinch unpleasantly.

You laughed once, “I just remembered you said real flowers die.” your gaze dropped to the bouquet. “So I thought these would last longer.”

Who knew that a simple sentence could make her want to hide her face for all of eternity to cover the blush spreading across her face.

The worst part is that Minju remembered saying that.

It was weeks ago as they passed by a flower shop.

She had made an offhand comment about how spending money on something destined to wilt felt stupid.

You had remembered because of course you had remembered and somehow that felt far more genuine than grand confessions or dramatic speeches under fireworks.

It was just as is.

A stupid handmade bouquet.

A stupid boy in dog ears.

A stupidly thoughtful gesture she had absolutely had no snarky answer against.

“You…” she started before immediately losing her words.

“I mean, if you hate them, I can keep them.” you shifted awkwardly.

“Don’t you dare.” Minju’s head snapped up.

“So you do want them.” Your eyebrows lifted.

“That’s not what I—”

You smiled at her before releasing out all of the awkwardness you felt in a hearty laugh.

Minju groaned and covered her face with one hand before swinging the other, taking the bouquet out of your hands.

She didn’t say much afterwards, she just spun on her heel and continued on as if nothing happened in the middle of a park’s trail.

You were left stunned like an idiot for a quick moment before realizing and catching up to her again.

Walking out of the park’s gate you kept your silence while she did the same but when you stole glances at her, you could’ve sworn the tips of her ears were red as she tried picking at one of the crocheted petals.

You eventually walked with her to where the day ended whenever you had dragged her along, the bus stop.

The sky had begun changing its bright blues for warmer shades of orange and pink, clouds were still hanging around, ready to blend into the night sky.

Minju had sat down with the bouquet of crocheted daisies clutched in one hand while you leaned against one of the walls, waiting for the bus with her.

She kept glaring at you with the side of her eyes then back to the bouquet as if staring hard enough would make the entire situation feel any less embarrassing.

“So,” you started carefully.

“Shut it.” Minju immediately raised a finger at you without looking.

You blinked. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“I know your tone.”

“My tone?”

“It’s the same tone you use before you twist my words and start teasing me.”

A laugh escaped you before you looked down at the bouquet in her hand.

“For the record…” you rubbed the back of your neck. “You don’t have to keep those if you really don’t want them.”

“Who said I didn’t want them?” Minju’s head snapped toward you so fast it nearly gave her whiplash.

You looked at her as her eyes widened a fraction as realization punched her directly in the soul.

“No—I meant—”

A grin spread across your face with the speed of a man who had just found free entertainment.

“You like them.”

“I hate your face.”

“That’s still not denying it.”

Minju looked ready to launch both herself and the bouquet into incoming traffic.

Instead, she hugged the flowers closer to her chest.

Your smile softened before you could stop it.

Before another tease slipped through your lips, you looked away and shrugged, looking at the traffic that came and went. You somehow started subconsciously counting the taxis that passed by when you turned to her voice again.

“You really want to know about him?”

Your eyes followed her figure as she stood up from the plastic seat just as the bus pulled up to the stop.

The bus gave a soft hiss as its doors folded open, pushing out cool air into the warm evening.

Minju stepped forward first, bouquet of crocheted daisies held carefully against her chest like she was suddenly worried the wind might take them away. She paused at the first step, half-turned back toward you.

“All you have to know,” she said, lifting the flowers just slightly, “is that he’s way out of my league.”

She didn’t say it to bite back or to tease you, she sounded real and careful of her words as if they were meant to be taken more into thought.

Then she walked in.

The doors slid shut with a quiet thud. The bus soon moved forward, tires rolling into motion as the evening lights smeared across its windows.

Inside, Minju didn’t look back again.

Outside, you stood there for a moment too long, sandwich and half-finished drink forgotten in your paper bag, watching the bus disappear into traffic until it was swallowed by the rest of the city while you were still standing there, staring at the street, as if it might explain what she had just told you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰.:｡✧.｡:｡.｡✱───

I'm not a dere, a tsun tsundere

“You’d never seen the stars?” Jiyu asked, her eyes widening, astounded.

You shrugged. “I did notice some white dots at night, but I had never seen a constellation,” you admitted.

“You’d never heard of Ursa Major?”

“I’d heard about them, but I’d never seen them with my own eyes,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck. From the tone of her voice, it sounded like you’d missed an essential part of the experience of life.

“Well, you have to see them!”

“Do I?”

“Wha—yes, of course!” Jiyu replied, almost offended at your doubt. “They are so beautiful!”

You scratched your head. To be quite honest, you weren't really interested, but her excitement was contagious. Her eyes were beaming, and you had a very big soft spot for her at that point, so you had to agree.

“Okay,” you sighed, completely swayed by her irresistible charm. “Tell me how.”

There came that smile that you loved—the prize for your continuous trips to the farm. “Yes! Okay, well, the problem is that you live in the city.”

“Right. The light pollution.”

“There’s a spot after our farm where I used to go when I was little; you’ll see them so well.”

“Is it very far?”

“No, we can walk there.”

“Okay, how long is the walk? Because I know you underestimate it.”

“About half an hour,” she said dismissively, leaning back in the chair to think about the path.

“Jiyu, that’s far.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is—that’s a bike ride distance, not a walk. I don’t know, it’s not worth it,” you complained.

“You take twenty minutes by bike to get here!” Jiyu shot back and crossed her arms.

“To see you, it’s worth it,” you said.

Your brain couldn’t even check the words before they left your mouth. You realized it a bit too late. The silence that followed was embarrassing and suffocating. Jiyu’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She looked away, staring outside the window, pretending you weren’t there. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck and your ears reddening.

“...”

“...”

You cleared your throat, still not looking at her. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Good!” Jiyu said, both happy that you had agreed to the mission and that you were breaking the awkward pause. She stepped forward and shot a series of frantic pats onto your back. “We could sleep there. Have you ever slept on the grass?”

“Nope,” you said. “I have a bed.”

“Gosh, you haven’t done anything at all,” she teased. “You’ve never camped anywhere?”

“No.”

“No Boy Scouts?”

“No.”

“You’re like a housecat.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Okay, so I think I have a sleeping bag, but the grass is really soft. I don’t think we need that.”

“What about the bugs?” you asked.

“Well, just cover yourself in bug spray and it will be fine,” she replied. “We’ll lay some towels and it’ll be good.”

“Alright, whatever you say, boss.”

Jiyu pushed your shoulder. “Come on, it will be fun! You should sound more excited.”

“Just scared about bugs.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of spending the night by Jiyu’s side was making your heart do spins and somersaults inside your ribcage. You were already thinking about all the possible outfits you had in your wardrobe—which were three—and how you’d act next to her. It was unnerving.

You talked with her a little more, and the time to go home came. You took a tour of the garden to greet Grandma like you always did and hopped on your bike. You spent about an hour trying to match different pants and shirts and concluded that fancy clothes were the wrong choice. You were supposed to sleep there, right? You shouldn’t be trying too hard; you should be casual.

Alright, some comfy pants, a t-shirt, and an open dress shirt would be absolutely fine. It was going to be windy anyway. Snacks, towels, and drinks were already in your bag. You wanted to be extra careful and also brought a bunch of sprays and bug incense.

When you arrived there, Jiyu was waiting for you outside the porch. The sunset had just started, and its light hit Jiyu’s skin with a golden ray. She was wearing a casual black shirt with long sleeves. It didn't seem like she had tried, but she didn't need to. She looked amazing regardless. Your heart was racing already. You had to pull yourself together.

Jiyu turned around and, at the sight of you, her face surrendered to a big, toothy smile. Oh, you were so weak for her.

“Jiyu! I’m here,” you called to her.

“Took you long enough, mister.”

“Sorry, the traffic,” you said as you propped your bike against the wall of the house.

“You cycled here.”

“Uhhh, yeah.”

Jiyu slapped your arm. “You idiot.”

“Okay, okay, sorry I’m late. I was getting some food.”

Jiyu’s tone changed immediately. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you said and opened your bag to show its contents. “Some drinks and some snacks.”

“Oh, dude, you’re awesome!”

“Shall we go?”

“Yes!”

The walk took longer than twenty minutes. You knew it would. Every five minutes you’d stop at the weird noises of nature around you. To you, it seemed like a creepy warning to turn around, but to Jiyu, it was just the wind.

“Hey, what’s that?” you asked, pointing at a dark spot moving around.

“It’s a rat.”

“Wait, what?”

“Mickey Mouse. It’s a mouse, but bigger.”

“No, I get that, but why is it here?”

“The weird kid of our neighbor caught one in the city and freed it here.”

“What if it had diseases?”

“It’s been here for like five years now and we’re fine, so I think it was healthy,” Jiyu said casually. “Actually, it’s pretty fat.”

As you moved away from the house, the scenery changed tremendously. The sky assumed an orange glow around the setting sun while the rest became a purplish blue. It was dark now and you couldn't see Jiyu as well as before, though her silhouette with the short hair was unmistakably her.

The wind was soft. It moved the strands of grass and her hair. It was hypnotizing—the way it hid and revealed her beautiful features. The lights of the houses were still on and were popping up like yellow dots as the natural light left faster and faster. The way they surrounded her looked almost like a movie, but you had never seen a frame as pretty as that one.

Jiyu led the way. Her movements were confident even in the dark. She moved like she was part of the wind. She didn't look down at her feet once. There was only you two now. You and the wind.

“I used to come out here when my parents were arguing about the harvest,” she said softly, her voice trailing off into the hiss of the breeze. “It wasn't really their fault,” she continued. “There are good years and tough years; it’s just how it is out here.”

You didn't want to pretend you understood what she was talking about. You listened to her—that was all you could do.

“I’d throw some food in my bag, get a flashlight, and run away. They knew everyone, so they weren't really scared. I felt like an explorer; everything was new to me.”

“Weren't you scared?” you asked.

“Of what? The trees? They’re much more behaved than people,” she laughed softly. “You know those trees over there?” she pointed to your left. You looked and nodded. “I used to climb them and lie down. It was really relaxing.”

“Did you always hang out here?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you… ever hang out with your friends?” you asked.

“I did, but…” Jiyu thought for a moment. “I didn't really fit in. They were really nice, actually. I was never bullied or anything, but I felt they were always going so fast.”

“Mmh, I understand what you’re saying,” you hummed. “City life is way too hectic.”

Jiyu slowed her pace. There was no pity nor patronizing attempt in your words. People usually looked at her as if she were a person of the past, an unfortunate person who had no idea what real life was like. An uneducated stranger.

“Actually, that’s what Grandma said about you as well.”

“Me?” you asked and stopped walking, pointing to your chest. “What did I do?”

Jiyu shook her hands and laughed. “No, it’s not bad, nothing like that. It’s just that you did things very fast.”

“Mmh, did I?”

“Yeah, and all the big words you said about university and technology confused her.”

You chuckled. “Well, I guess I did confuse her.”

“But it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

You weren't nervous anymore. You didn't care about how you looked anymore, mostly because it was dark and she wouldn't see you anyway, but also because she was there and she made you feel at ease. That was the effect she had on you. You listened to her describe the paths she used to follow as a kid and all her past experiences.

“You’re so slow,” Jiyu said teasingly.

“I’m watching where I’m going,” you shot back. 

Jiyu turned around with a twirl. “You’re lifting your feet too high, just trust where you’re going, it’s not—”

Before she could finish her sentence, your sneaker caught an exposed root. You waved your arms in the air, trying to grasp at something, and tumbled over. You landed on the dry grass and hit your face against the dirt.

The bag decided to slide down your neck and fall on your head with all its contents inside.

You groan. There’s damp soil all over your skin. “Shit.”

You hear Jiyu’s footsteps come towards you. You expected a sympathetic hand on your shoulder or some words of worry, but instead, she started laughing at you. You pushed yourself up and brushed the dirty of your cheek just to see her pointing a mocking finger at you.

“Are you laughing at me?” you demanded. “I could have died.”

“Oh, come on,” she wheezed. “Don’t be that tragic.”

You looked down at your sleeve. There were dark streaks of dirt on your shirt around your elbows. What great luck you had. It was one of your new shirts as well. You spent such a long time picking this one out. 

“Does it actually hurt?” Jiyu asked with a wide grin.

“No,” you grumbled. “Not really.”

Jiyu tilted her head. “So no need for me to kiss it better?”

“Actually, now that I think about it, it hurts so much,” you said. “It’s unbearable. I couldn’t tell at first because of the shock.”

“Oh, you’re perfectly fine,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. 

“But my feelings are hurt,” you insisted. “You were laughing at me.”

Jiyu chuckled, letting her expression soften. “Okay, okay, poor baby.” 

She came closer and hugged you. It was brief, but it left your skin tingling. As she pulled away, she adjusted the strap of your bag and gave you a firm pat on the back.

“Do you feel better now?”

You cleared your throat. “Yes. Much better.”

After a long but calming walk, you reached the summit of the ridge. The grass was soft like a carpet, just as she had said. After putting the lamp to the side, Jiyu dropped down immediately, hands behind her head, staring upward. For a moment, you hesitated, looking at the bag and at the towels you had brought, but decided to follow her example instead and settled beside her.

There was a full moon that night, and it made her skin look like marble. You couldn't help but look at Jiyu’s face. Under every different light, it was pretty in a different way.

“You know you’re supposed to look at the sky,” Jiyu said suddenly.

“Oh. Sorry,” you said briefly and turned to the sky. You looked back for an instant to see her rosy cheeks.

You finally saw them, and your breath was taken away. The stars. They weren't just a few dots. The darkness was shimmering with light. They stretched across the entire visible horizon, reaching far into the trees and distant landscapes.

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly.

“That’s the Great Bear,” Jiyu said, pointing a finger toward a cluster of light. “You see that?”

“No, not really.”

“Give me your hand.”

You got up and sat closer to her. Jiyu adjusted the lantern so she could see your palm. With her index finger, she drew the constellation on your hand. You looked back up and searched. She pointed to it and you finally noticed.

“It looks like a ladle,” she said.

“Oh, it does.”

“That’s how I remembered it, actually,” she admitted. “I had a book about constellations, but when I was little, I wasn't really into reading the words and instead just looked at the pictures.”

“I still do that,” you said, and she laughed.

“Orion—it looks like an archer,” she continued, and drew it on your hand again.

“This one is complex.”

“It really is. But it should be easier to spot.”

“Oh, I can see that.”

Jiyu smiled; she was happy to share her interest with someone who listened with genuine interest.

“I actually know a couple of things about it.”

“Ohhh, really?” Jiyu said, impressed.

“Legend has it that Orion had fallen in love with a princess. She had something to do with the stars. I think her father was the sky.”

“Mmmh.”

“Orion fell madly in love with her. But he was mortal. The princess would come down from the sky at night and talk with him. Each day, right after sunset and when the morning came, she would disappear.”

“Oh, so she liked him?”

“Very much so, but she was like a goddess, right? And he was just mortal. So it really angered her father.”

You looked at the stars, because if you looked at Jiyu, you’d just get distracted by her eyes.

“He tried to keep her away from him and warned Orion, but he would write letters and shoot them into the sky with his bow.”

“All the way to space?”

“Yeah, he had a very strong bow.”

Jiyu laughed. “Okay.”

“And one time, he made a deal with a witch. He got this big bird and let it fly to the sky while hanging from its feet so he could reach the princess.”

“And then?”

“And then, since he wanted it so bad and the dad hated him, the father cursed him and made him into a constellation. Because if he wanted to reach the stars so badly, he made him a star.”

“Wow,” Jiyu said. “Which culture is that from?”

“I made it up,” you said plainly.

“Be for real.”

“No, really, I just made it up. I wanted to say something cool. You seem to know everything, and I didn't have anything to say.”

“Oh, come on!” Jiyu groaned and shoved your shoulder. “You’re terrible! I was actually really getting into it.”

Deep down, Jiyu appreciated your attempt. You were participating in her life and were actually interested in what she was saying.

“Hey, it’s not a bad story. It could very well be a real story.”

“Whatever you say.”

Her words made you realize something. You had always been chasing that career, those grades, that future that they always told you about. Even when you went out with your friends, it was always bars and events; you never really sat still with them.

After a long time talking and eating snacks, you both got pretty sleepy. It was already very late. You checked your phone. Your eyes were burning, and she was feeling tired. You put out the towels and lied down.

You looked over at Jiyu. She was still lying on her back, but her shoulders were hunched up toward her ears, and she was hugging herself. Every few seconds, a tremor would shake her body.

“Jiyu,” you said softly. “You’re trembling.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “I’m fine,” she lied. “I can take it. I’m used to it.”

“You don’t seem so,” you replied.

She looked at you, a stray lock of hair blowing across her face. She looked smaller than she ever had when you were walking and talking. You hesitated. Maybe she didn't mind your presence. You thought about it—should you do it?

You could lose her right then, or your relationship could become deeper than it ever had been. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to risk it.

“Come closer then,” you said. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Jiyu was somewhat shocked by your words, but deep inside, she wanted it too. She stopped being strong and didn't need a second invitation. She tucked herself into your side, her head lying close to your shoulder. She still wasn't brave enough to hug you, but she wanted to be as close as possible.

You moved slowly, hesitantly, to test her reaction. Your arm hovered over her. She didn't say anything, and you lowered it onto her. You wrapped your arm around her and pulled her in until there wasn't a single gap between the two of you.

As you pulled her in, the world closed down to the small patch of grass beneath your bodies. Every other sound washed away, and you could only hear her breath brushing against you.

“Better?” you whispered.

“Still cold,” she murmured, but she smiled into your neck.

You rested your chin on the top of her head. Up close, she smelled like grass and sunshine, but there was definitely the scent of her conditioner mixed with it. Without really thinking about it, your hand found its way to her hair. You began to stroke it, tracing lines from the crown down to the nape of her neck.

You stopped for a second. What were you doing? You weren't at that stage yet. Did you do too much?

“Don’t stop,” you heard. You leaned down to make sure you had actually heard it.

Jiyu’s cheeks were red and she was desperately clinging to you. “Don’t stop,” she said again.

So you didn't. You put your hand back on her head and petted her. Jiyu sighed happily like a cat on your lap. You kept up the slow, steady motion of your hand in her hair. Jiyu’s grip on your shirt loosened as she fell asleep. She cuddled into you, and you did too.

She didn't need to be strong that night. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She felt safe in your arms—enough to let you bear her weight, knowing you wouldn't let her fall. Your eyes grew heavy, and as you started to fall asleep, the last thing you saw was the ghost of Jiyu’s smile against your chest.

You take a deep breath. Really feel it in your chest. And when you exhale slowly, letting the drag of air on the way out tickle your nostrils, you lock in as time slows down to a blur all around you.

You scan the room.

Slashed purse at Table Fourteen. Half-filled beer bottle at the DJ’s mixing pad. Fingers thrusted at the bar area.

Index to thumb, you snap. Then it all comes back to life.

You strut over to Table Fourteen and grab the idiot with curly hair by the inside of his belt, preventing his escape. “Huh? What—?”

Smack. You backhand the son of a bitch and take the opportunity to grab the wallet he was just holding as he stumbles backwards onto the floor.

You sift through the I.D. cards and glance at the group of unaware ladies who are now looking at you in confusion. “This must be yours. Keep an eye on your things please. Our staff can only do so much.”

After the ponytailed woman nods at you in silent gratitude, you whistle and call over a triad of bouncers. They immediately swarm the perpetrator and have him pinned with his arms behind his back. “You know the drill. Put his photo up on the wall. Then give these ladies a bottle from the top shelf. On the house.”

The same lady from earlier gasps and shakes her head. “No no, it’s fine. Getting my wallet back’s more than enough.”

But you calm her down with a gesture of your hand and signal to one of the bouncers. “Hennessy. On me.”

When her drunken friends scream in elation over hearing this, the lady smiles and lifts her glass up to you. You salute with two fingers before trudging towards the dance floor.

Cutting through should be easy, but the ongoing rave makes the crowd feel like an actual ocean.

Shoulders bumping. Backs pressing into you. Whispers exchanging at decibels higher than they should be. You don’t part the crowd—you know better than to do that. Instead you run your hand through your hair and get with it. Get with them. You go with the flow. Head bopping. Arms in the air. Swaying and shimmying past person to person. All until you reach the elevated podium.

One of the bouncers stationed at the front sees you and snaps into a straighter posture, but when you lift both your hands at him he learns to relax a bit. “First night?”

He glances left and right to make sure you’re talking to him. “Y-Yeah … s-s-sorry, boss.”

“Relax. Take it easy. Just remember: make sure everyone’s having a good time. The safe way.”

“Y-You got it!” he wheezes, unclipping the velvet cord so you can pass through. You pat him on the back and squeeze his shoulder before jogging up the steps towards the sound booth.

Pressing fingers against your ear to fold it shut, you dip forward and jab your waist at the DJ. You give him no time to complain. This sudden motion makes the wire connecting his headphones to his laptop coil around his bottle of beer and would have sent it toppling onto the mixing pad had you not swiped it up in time.

“Jesus Christ—you fucking scared me. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a set here?” Hajoon groaned, unraveling the wire. 

“I said no drinks while you’re on set. This is the third time this week.”

He flaps his lips in mockery, snatching the beer back from you. Downs it in one go. Sighs in contentment. Then shoves it back to your chest, dampening the fold of your blazer. “Whatever, bossman. Learn to loosen up a little. Here—ready for the drop?”

As soon as he pushes one of the doodads on his device, you hear the music start to quicken and pulsate throughout the room. You can feel the hastening thrum in the back of your throat. When you think you can’t take the tension anymore, Hajoon flicks his wrist and throws his hands in the air.

“Everybody make some noise!”

Then the drop happens and everyone’s cheering to the beat. Tongues out. Fists pumping. Bodies yielding.

Hajoon jabs you with his waist and wraps an arm around your neck. “You see that, bossman? That’s the kind of magic we fucking enable each night. So will you cut me some slack? If it helps, I’ll cut back on the drinks too. I only got to sneak one in because you sent a newbie to guard me tonight.”

You peel his sweaty arm off you and dust yourself off. “We’ll see. Maybe play some good music first, then I’ll think about it.” 

He hisses. “So fucking cold. But that makes me respect you all the more—not gonna lie.”

You ignore him and duck under the cord to rejoin the shifting masses. The new bouncer doesn’t even get a chance to say goodbye as you slither your way once more through the crowd to get to the other side of the room where the bar is.

“I fucking told you—we paid for our table in advance. What do you mean we need to show you ‘proof of purchase’? Fucking bitch. Your place is already expensive—.”

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here.”

The gravitas you exude is enough to silence the four men trying to overpower and intimidate your bar staff.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” you repeat, making sure they hear you over the second beat drop Hajoon just laid out for the people. “You can relay it to me directly.”

One of the guys tugs on the sleeve of his complaining friend, but he swats him away. He’s the only one who still looks arrogant despite his face being as red as a raspberry. “Ya … who the fuck are you? Are you their manager? I’d like to speak with the fucking manager.”

“You’re talking to him.”

“O-Oh … oh, then good,” he flinches. “Like I was saying—your club’s trying to fucking scam me and my friends. Bleeding us dry, huh? We paid for the table reservation fee AND the three-hour extension for our table. And they say we can’t get more fucking drinks?”

You gesture to the poor girl just trying to do her job. She hands you one of her small tablets and you begin scrolling through records. “Says here you paid in full and still have some credit for your tab. What do you want to order?”

He scoffs. “Was thinking of getting me and my boys a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Each. But you’re all ruining our fun, so maybe we’ll just—.”

“You can’t afford it.”

The man raises a brow. “Excuse me? The fuck did you just—.”

“I said. You can’t afford it,” you utter once more, diction sharp enough to penetrate through their thick skulls. “The table’s a million won. You already spent nine-hundred thousand on other liquors. Four bottles of this gin will cost you two-hundred-and-forty thousand more—over your cap.”

“I can—.”

You point to the lanyard one of his friends wears. Then to the knock-off Ray Bans on his other friend’s forehead. Then to the crumpled envelope in his right pocket. “Keep burning your stipend money and you’ll be out of college faster than I can kick you out of this club.”

His little group inhales so tensely through clenching teeth over what you just relayed to them that their little leader starts to physically fume in the well-deserved embarrassment. “Y-Yeah? Well fuck you, asshat. Let’s go, guys. We’re leaving—.”

You hold your arm out to stop his lanky body in time, grabbing some middle shelf liquor in the same stroke. “Here. Bit over your tab, but on me. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You don’t get the privilege to see his dumfounded face. You salute the woman working the bar before heading towards the back wings.

This was you. This is your nightly life as the manager of SAXO. It’s never dull. Not with the constant flow of people like these it isn’t.

When you lean against the wall adjacent to the restrooms, one of the bouncers notices you and offers you a seat by one of the empty tables along the balcony area, but you reject it with a shake of your chin. Hard to patrol when seated. Hard to monitor without a vantage point. There’s never any rest for the wicked, so you don’t allow yourself any either. Instead, you fix the grip of your watch against your wrist and check the time.

Twelve-fifty-three.

Glancing back up, your hairs stand on edge.

You find yourself as if you were on the roof of the building. Atop SAXO. Where the humdrum of the club below can blur enough to the point that it can almost be considered silence. You take what you can get. In this spec of solitude amidst your night to night affairs for work, you enjoy being able to stare up at the evening sky and just gaze. Stargaze.

When you look at the stars, you never really focus on a single fixed point. There are many stars out there, constantly burning, some already having died out, some whose light have yet to reach your eyes. They all look the same to you. Same shining orbs. Same glow and halation. Same patch of freckles that dot the expanse of the universe. But once in a while, once you let your guard down—if you can even let it—you find yourself drawn to a star that calls to you. Grabs your attention. Not brighter. Not differently-colored. Not even more attractive.

It just pulls you in. And before you know it, it’s all you look at. It’s all your weary eyes focus on.

It’s all you see.

That’s the same thing she does to you.

Chests lift and drop. Shoulders form waves that veil her visage. Strobe lights paint everything around her in a light haze. She whips her head around, hair fanning out downwards. Dip of the chin. Rise of the nose. Lock of the eyes.

She isn’t just looking at you. She’s caught you.

And the pull of her lips into a smirk is enough evidence of it.

You know very well that meeting someone’s gaze at the club is a death sentence. You know their appearance now. How they act. What they do. Where they are. You can track them down around the dance floor. Pinpoint their table. Vibe check their company. Note how intoxicated they are. Check to see if they’re hitting on someone. Or if anyone’s hitting on them.

But when someone catches you staring? That isn’t just a death sentence.

It’s an execution. And she drops the guillotine on you the moment she bites her lip.

You look away. You just meant to look respectfully. You hope you did. You didn’t linger, did you? If you did, it was just out of appreciation. Admiration. She’s beautiful. That much you can glean from an initial glance. Not enough to mark her in your mind, but enough to make her relevant in your field of view.

You’re an idiot. You look again.

Honey blonde hair, dark at the roots. Freshly threaded brows. Slender nose—sharp at the tip, softer around the sides. Oval-framed visage that looks soft upon a caress but sharp upon provocation. Lower lip so plump you forget she has two to form the curve of her smirk.

But really. What catches you are her eyes. 

Because they’re staring right at you now.

You look away. For good this time. You’re certain because you push off the wall and walk a few steps away from your initial perching position. Not stopping until you’re sure that she isn’t looking at you anymore

You brush past a pair of heaving girls rushing to the toilets to vomit. 

Nope, still looking at you.

You lean over a group of college kids playing King’s Cup and ask them how their night is.

Nope, still looking at you.

You run a hand across the bar counter to inspect its cleanliness. 

Nope, still looking at you.

She won’t fucking stop looking at you. And you hate it.

Because you can’t stop looking at her either.

She shifts. Hands behind her head, hips swaying in a figure eight to the music. You’re still pissed at Hajoon, but you have to thank him for the boppy track he’s put on now. It makes her thrust her elbows out. Side to side. Doing a little spin. And when she comes back around, she smirks at you again.

It’s only then that you scan the rest of her. Filling out the form of her figure.

Buckled corset tight around her petite frame. Red pants dotted with silver buttons that you just know jingle with even the slightest movements. Nails painted silver. Armband dripped in gold. Boots that cheat her height and allow her to look taller men in the eye.

But really. What catches your attention this time isn’t in the seen. It’s in the unseen.

At the swell around her cleavage that’s threatening to spill out.

You look away. But you’re not sure you’ve done so because you can still see her in your peripheral. Like what happens when you stare at the sun for too long like a dumbass and it imprints its afterimage so fucking deep into your retinas.

You move over to the receiving area where there’s still a line steadily being processed by your diligent staff. A pair of bouncers recognize you and one of them dips their shades to greet you. You hang around them for a moment. Cross your arms. Return to the crowding dance floor. Let out a sigh.

Holy shit she’s moving towards you now.

One guy’s blatantly looking down her top. Another’s grinding against her. But she pushes past them, body still enslaved by the beat. But honing in on you like a beacon. 

You make the mistake of looking her in the eyes again. She smirks wider. Like she’s got you in her clutches with a lasso, she shimmies through the sweaty bodies around her until she’s parted from the crowd.

You snap behind your back, and time pauses.

You scan the room.

Wide hips flaring out of the confines of her fitted leather pants. Gait so resonant you can almost hear its cadence amidst the blasting music. Face dyed a myriad of colors, but her expression remains unchanging.

“Are you just going to keep staring?”

It didn’t work.

She’s right in front of you now. Three steps away. You fail to realize it until she points it out. “Not much of a dancer?”

“I dapple. Just not tonight. Just not here.”

“I’ll only believe it when I see it. Too pompous to join the crowd? Are we not good enough for you?” she remarks, voice lilting like a tease towards the end.

“Got business to attend to—always. Can’t mix work and play.”

“Didn’t seem that way when you were eye-fucking me just now.”

The bouncers on either side of you flinch. You can tell because of the way these two burly buffoons fucking twitched. She can tell too because she’s two steps away now and pressing the matter still.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you. Just patrolling. Just work.”

“Is your job supposed to be undressing wasted girls like me in your mind? You’re doing a terrible job then. I’m pretty fucking wasted right now, but I don’t feel very naked.”

“You’re not—.”

She’s one step away now.

“Hm?” she raises, and so does her brow. “Too on the nose for you? Or are you still ‘working’?”

Her hand finds its way to your chest as she presses into your clavicle, wiping away that one bead of sweat that rolls down your blazer. Your eyes never leave her face. Even as she tugs on and adjusts the rise of your collar. “What’s it going to take to be supervised by you? Directly.”

You tilt your head to the side. When that isn’t enough, you step as far back as you can before bumping into another velvet cord. Then you sigh. “Respectfully. Hands off. I’m an employee here.”

Her eyes widen like she just caught something. “Part of the background? Boring. Someone like you being off-limits—such a waste.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. That’s fine. Because she doesn’t let you. “Is it company policy to not mingle with your clientele? I just saw you getting real handsy with a group of girls earlier. You’re making me jealous just thinking about it.”

The implication of that statement is something you just keep to yourself.

Before she can move closer, you hold your hand out. “If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know. But this?” you pause, pointing your finger to her then back to yourself. “Not a chance.”

She clicks her teeth and backs away too. Finally. But her eyes are what do you over. She’s rolling them at you. Mockery. Frustration. Disappointment. “You’re no fun. Keep eye-fucking me then. Hope you get a kick out of it.”

Before you know it, she seamlessly rejoins the crowd, dancing with the masses once again.

What the fuck was that? What the fuck just happened? 

You don’t know. You’re not sure. 

All you can think of is finishing your patrol so you can get some rest. You want to make sure everything’s in order for the evening before you leave the rest to your second. So you continue on your nightly routine. Just like nothing happened.

But god forbid this woman is making it difficult for you to pretend like nothing happened.

You can’t explain it.

When you patrol the lower tables—the ones closer to the dance floor—you see her spiraling around the edges of the crowd. Not really lingering too long at any one spot. Like she’s trailing you. Following you. You had to make one of the customers repeat themselves when you got distracted by the way she ‘fixed’ her top, flashing you enough skin to imagine the rest of what’s hidden beneath it.

Over by the entrance, while you were in the middle of resolving a dispute over fake I.D.s, she was hovering behind you. At a safe distance. Behind the barriers and bouncers. She’s watching you work. Observing how you tell someone off without needing to raise your voice. Smirking at you, twirling her hair, staring at you as she’s playing thoughts in her mind that you can only assume are no good.

Even when you sneak away to relieve yourself at the staff washroom. The moment you come back out, she’s sipping on a glass of whiskey. Staring daggers at your surprised face. With that gaze of hers that short-circuits your brain. She doesn’t say anything. Just sips. Just drinks. Just relishes in your flushed state as you hurry yourself away from her.

She’s not even meddling. She’s not even provoking.

She’s just there.

She’s going around you, but god does it feel like you’re the one orbiting her. Because this woman knows she’s got you.

She’s got you good.

“Anything else I missed? I’ll leave the cleanup and closing to you. Like always,” you tell your second, who’s already writing things down on his notepad. “And Minho, please, for the love of god, will you stop wearing those ridiculous ties?”

Minho peeks up from his sheets and pokes the yellow rubber-ducky tie with his pen. “This? My mother bought it for me, boss. It’d be a waste not to wear it.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “At least wear it somewhere else. Well—whatever. Before I go, make sure to keep an eye out on Table Nine. Got a feeling they’re runners—.”

“Boss!”

The beckon rings like a siren. You register it immediately and are ready to strafe past Minho when you see one of the serving staff runs up to the both of you. Panting. Completely out of breath. “Boss, there’s … ha … there’s a commotion on the dance floor!”

Your eyes first dart over to Hajoon. But oddly enough, he’s not trying to hit on anyone again this time. Instead, he’s watching something. Watching someone.

In fact, everyone on the dance floor’s watching someone. Noticeably so now that you realize there’s a small circular parting in the center of the crowd.

You follow the staff over and freeze at the outer edge of this commotion.

You see her.

She’s dancing like she owns the place. Like she owns the dance floor. Hajoon’s got his hands on the beat, but she’s got her hands all over her body. She’s being a diva right now. Bathing in the glow of the lights shining down on her. Feeling herself. Basking in the attention that’s being dripped all over her.

She ropes in one guy at a time. Dancing with him. Swaying next to him. Grinding on him. She slides her back up and down the front of one of them. Wraps her arms around the neck of another. One of the poor blokes makes the mistake of moving in to kiss her. She immediately bites his lip and gets a kick out of his pained reaction.

Your fist is clenching tightly by your side, and you’re not sure why.

Before you know it, you’re pushing—no, shoving—people aside just to get to the center of it all. Just to get to her. Tugging on the length of your necktie, when you make it to the lady in question, you hold out an arm to stop the next guy from entertaining her, and just grab her by her arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demand. She reeks of alcohol and sweat. “You’re drunk. You’re making a scene.”

“Yeah? Is that not allowed?” she prods, stepping closer to you. She shrugs your grip off and crosses her arms. “Didn’t think it wasn’t, but hey, made you look didn’t I? I knew it was the only way to grab your attention.”

You glance past her. To Hajoon. The man scrambles for his headphones and changes up the music, inviting everyone to return to the dance floor and party like there’s no tomorrow once again. Back to the regular routine of things.

But you don’t let up on her.

And she doesn’t let up on you.

Because her hands are now resting on your waist.

“Saw you talking to shorty over there,” she announces, pointing at Minho with her lips. “Thought you’d be off the clock now, manager. Didn’t think you’d eye-fuck me again that quickly though.”

“I was not eye—.”

She pulls you in. Whether it’s with her hands or with her gaze, you can’t tell. “Just shut up and dance.”

You indulge her.

You lied. You’re not a very good dancer. And she notices this. She leads you both. At times she lets you do your stupid little shindig while she’s busting out a move. Other times she’s holding you by the wrist and guiding your hands to either her shoulders or her hips.

And you’re starting to come undone.

How could you not? 

Every run of her fingers across one of your shoulders to the other. Every bump of her butt against your crotch. Every nick of her knee against your thigh. She’s toying with you. She’s building you up. Leading you on. Because she knows.

She knows you can’t do a single damn thing about it.

You don’t keep track of time. But after what feels like an hour of working the dance floor with you, she finally pulls away enough to give you your own personal space again. She walks you over to the wings to where her table is. Table Twenty-Three.

First thing you see are two couples engaged in a contest to see who could be the sloppiest when making out.

“Don’t mind them. They won’t get naked. At least, they told me this isn’t that kind of club,” she explains. She casually reaches over one of the couples, who you are pretty sure are sneaking in some fingering on the couch, and grabs one of their drinks. She sniffs it. She reels. But she downs it anyway.

“Are we done here? Had your fill yet?” you ask. Unsure of where you’re trying to go with that.

“Yeah. Be seeing you.”

What?

You swear you almost hear yourself say that out loud. You don’t know what face you’re making, but it must be an entertaining one—for her at least.

“Was fun. Maybe we’ll come back here again.”

She followed you around. She stalked you like a hawk. She dragged you into her little shenanigans in the middle of work. All for this? All for nothing?

It was your turn to feel dumbfounded tonight. Dumbfounded because you were a fool for expecting anything bigger to have come out of this.

You bit your tongue enough to bleed iron into your tastebuds before nodding stiffly. “Right. Right, be seeing you.”

To add insult to injury, she waves at you with a smirk as you lug your body towards the staff exit.

---

“Boss, Table Eleven’s going red.”

You know that signal. You know that queue.

In moments, you’re already halfway towards said table, when your shoes screech against the polished floor. Stopping yourself.

“Hm? Care to join us?”

It’s her again.

Honey blonde hair pulled behind her. Black ribbed plunging half-sleeve top baring a fraction of her upper midriff. Bandeaux bra on full display. Exposed skin moist from collecting the condensation dripping from her glass.

You clock the empty vodka bottle on the table. You scan the eight different people gathered around the table with her. You take note of her challenging half-lidded stare.

“If you’re done with that drink, I’m taking it.”

“Tsk, we’re just playing spin the bottle. Is that not allowed?”

“Your little ‘game’ is disturbing everyone else. Take a hint,” you warn her, eyes fixed on her face that remains unflinching before you.

“It’s a fucking club. Of course we’ll be loud. Don’t want your customers having fun, manager-nim?”

The way she addresses you makes your blood boil all the more. “Give me that—.”

She beats you to it and spins the bottle. Lo and behold it lands with the snout facing you. The bottom facing her.

Smirking, she taps her lip with her newly painted red nail. “Five shots of scotch. In a row. Think you can do it?”

The crowd around her table is clapping and leering at you. But you ignore them. “I’m not playing—.”

She loops an arm around you and blinks innocently. Twice. For just a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be the life of the party? Let’s get this night started properly. Shots! Shots! Shots!”

They begin to mimic your chant. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

The other tables begin to chime in. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Soon even some of your serving staff applaud you. Egg you. Even when you give them the eye.

You glance at the bottle of scotch conveniently already at the table. You glance at the clubgoers surrounding you now. Then you glance at her.

“I don’t drink. Not anymore.”

You get booed in a heartbeat.

Shrugging, she dips down and fills up one of the shotglasses for herself. “Suit yourself.” Before you know it, she’s already drank one. Then two. Then five. All down the hatch.

Just as you are about to leave this brewing cesspool, someone tugs you from behind.

You’re not one to take that lying down. Ready to unwrap your arm from them and shove them to the ground. But the lightness of the grip is what throws you off.

And it’s enough hesitation for her to pounce on your lips and kiss you.

You don’t pull away. You can’t. 

She’s holding your face. Both hands. One on each cheek. When you tug upwards, she follows, moaning into your mouth. But where you expect her bare tongue, something liquid is in its place. When you realize what’s happening, it’s already too late.

She just snowballed five shots of scotch right into your mouth.

When the taste of liquor hits your tastebuds, something fires in your brain. Something reflexive. Something ingrained. You rip your lips from her and spray out the alcohol. The two dudes behind you are fucking pissed, but you apologize sincerely and call for some staff to help clean the mess.

Returning to her, you grab her by the elbow. “I told you I don’t fucking drink—.”

“That wasn’t a drink. That was a taste,” she corrects you, smirking once more. Using that fucking gaze on you again. “Taste of me. Don’t get too drunk now.”

You’re unable to react. You let her kiss you once more on the lips and giggle before rejoining her posse for the night.

“Are you alright, boss? You look—.”

“Don’t just stand there, Minho. Get me some damn water,” you snap as you feel the liquor burning your tastebuds still. Thank god it didn’t drip into your throat. A taste was more than enough to give you goosebumps.

As Minho disappears towards the bar, you just watch as this woman pours cognac down her throat. Straight from the bottle. While looking at you.

With a smirk.

“B-Boss …? Boss!”

“What is it newbie? I don’t have all night,” you huff at the bouncer. You could have been nicer to him. Nicer about it. But doing arithmetic manually on a calculator and a physical spread sheet for hours would put anyone in a fuckass mood. “What do you need from me?”

“S-S-Someone’s um … stripping—.”

You don’t even have to ask for context.

As soon as you burst out from the break room, your eyes immediately train on the sound booth. On Hajoon.

On her.

You claw through the crowd. Is it to get closer to the unfolding scene? Is it to stop it? You’re not sure. You don’t fucking know. All you can picture are the things that will spread about your club after tonight if this continues.

When you make it to the divider, the newbie watches your back as you jump over the cord. From the first few steps up towards the elevator platform alone, you get a clear view from the side.

The twin-tailed little brat’s undressing in the fucking DJ booth. And Hajoon’s just letting her. Of course he fucking would.

Her tail point fur jacket hits the floor first. Pools at the ankles like shorn elegance. Pure irony though given the debauchery that persists to unfold. Her hair whips forward. Then back. She’s dancing in place like she’s boxed in a tight circle. Hands draw forwards and slide down Hajoon’s chest as she sways downwards herself too. When she shoots back up, she makes the extra effort to jut her butt out.

If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have slapped the fucking tease out of her voluminous rump.

It’s a miracle they’re still contained within her shorts. Those things are cut closer to her crotch than her knees. You cut her some slack. It compliments her plain white crop top that exposes the expanse of her navel.

Your focus drifts to the jewel affixed above her belly button. Sparkling. Beckoning to you.

When you glance back up again, she’s caught you once more. “Eye-fucking me up close this time? Get in line, manager. This one’s a public show.”

Hajoon notices your arrival and lifts up his beer, nearly fucking spilling it on his setup like an idiot. “Yo, bossman! Where’d you pull this baddie? She said you knew each other? You two banging or something?”

But the woman between you both hushes him with a finger and whispers something you can’t hear from all the music. Hajoon licks his lips when she pulls away and winks at you. “Fine shit, man. Fine fucking shit! Let’s turn this party up!”

As the tempo of the song speeds up, so does her dancing. She’s got a way with her body—you’ll give her that. Even as you walk back down, you can’t help but take a peek. When you do, you see her flex and swirl that torso of hers like she was goddamn built for it.

She locks eyes with you a final time before digging her thumbs into the hem of her top. “Think you can handle this?”

Just when you lunge for her, she chuckles and puts her hands back down. “Did you really think I was a slut? Disappointing. And here I thought you cared about me more than that.”

Clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter, you pick her coat off the floor and dump it in one of the chairs behind Hajoon. The last thing you see before heading back is her playing up the role she’s taken on for the night and acting as Hajoon’s eye candy for his set.

She manages to catch you in the crowd and licks her lips, biting her tongue midway.

“Fucking brat.”

“Fuck me—boss!”

You quite literally snap your pen. The ink fountains forward but you’re faster. You wrap it up in some of your old quarterly reports. Cursing under your breath, you dump the blotting mess beneath you and drag your fingers across your face. “What the fuck is the problem this time, Minho?”

“It’s her. Again.”

That’s not possible. It’s almost five in the morning now. Club’s been closed for an hour at least. What the hell was she still doing here?

No matter. You push out of your chair. Don’t bother to put your blazer back on. Just lower your head and allow Minho to accompany you to the scene of the next crime.

You hear it before you see it—the sound of glass breaking.

Then it all comes into view.

The closing staff standing frozen outside the bar. The three bouncers exchanging looks at each other in an attempt to figure out what to do. Hajoon who’s finishing his order of truffle fries while recording the whole thing.

Not a single one of them dared to stop her.

“All of you. Out. Now.”

Your command echoes throughout the now empty club. All eyes are on you as you tug on your tie and tilt your head to the side. Vein along your neck threatening to pop. “I said. Out. Now.”

“Manager, she’s been causing—.”

You raise your palm up to one of the bouncers. “I’ll take it from here. Leave closing to me. And Minho, go take our closing staff out for some fish sticks. Use my card.”

“Boss …”

You toss him your credit card and gesture for them to get the hell out of here. They look confused. They look concerned. But by the end of it, they all feel relieved. Even Hajoon whose set finished earlier tonight tagged along with your staff to freeload. You let it slide. You have bigger fish to fry.

And she reminds you of this with the sound of another glass item shattering across the floor.

“Oops. That one was accidental this time.”

You saunter over to the bar and lean on the counter. Arms folded against each other. Eyes trained on this little goddamn devil in front of you. 

Her outfit surprises you.

You thought you had her figured out. The more comfortable she got here at SAXO, the less you’ve seen her wear. But tonight, she’s all covered up. Long sleeve leopard print. Matching ankle length tights. Pink nails. Some glitter sprinkled across her eyes just above her splash of blush. For someone’s who’s been clubbing all night, she looks like she just came fresh out of the shower.

She smirks. “You just love eye-fucking me, don’t you?”

“Cut the charade. It’s just you and me. What the fuck is your deal?”

She raises a brow. Runs a finger across the convex surface of a bottle of Patron in her hands. Contemplating. “Does it always have to be something in here?”

“There’s always something with you.”

You could never understand her. Even if you tried. She does everything she can think of to be an absolute thorn in your side. But she never acknowledges you beyond the provocation. She pushes and pulls. But she never reaches. And you’re not sure what irritates you more.

The fact that she keeps doing this each night. Or the fact that you want her to reach you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed the attention.

Looking at that flirty smile of hers that dances dangerously across the boundary of your tolerance, you can’t help but acknowledge it. She’s played you. She’s played you good. Attention-seeking. Body-chasing. Mind-filling. Every night—every fucking night—she’s on your mind. What she’s up to this time. What she’s wearing. If she’s looking at you. Looking for you. Testing you. Teasing you. Tempting you. You’ve thought about what it might be like if you weren’t surrounded by other clubgoers. What you might say to her if you had the chance to pull her away in private. What you might do to her if you were away from any prying eyes.

And now, as you’ve said, it’s just the two of you. There was no need to pull on any acts.

That’s what you want to believe, at least. It’s immediately shattered once you see the bottle smash onto the floor. Spilling alcohol across her boots.

“Oopsie,” she utters without a hint of fucking remorse. “That didn’t taste good anyway. I’m doing you a favor.”

As she reaches out for another battle, you exhale roughly. “What … What do you want from me?”

“Want? From you?” she repeats, swinging her next victim between her knuckles. Just waiting for one wrong move to let it slip and shatter. “You’re already doing what I want you to.”

“Which is—?”

Shatter. “Entertaining me.”

She doesn’t even pick up the bottles anymore. She’s just flicking them off the shelves.

“Ooh, expensive.”

Down goes the Armand de Brignac.

“Expensive?”

Along with the Magnum Moët & Chandon.

“And oh, most expensive.”

And so does the Rosé 1959 Dom Pérignon.

“You see what I mean?” she spins around and leans against the remaining shelf with alcohol still lining the higher echelons. Prodding at you as if you’ve already proven her point. “This is why I’m having so much fun with you. You can’t do anything to me, can you? You’re not allowed to.”

“You just manage—.”

Your hand’s already gripping her wrist. Pinning it to the corner ledge. She gasps. And for the first time since you’ve met this lady, she flashes you a look you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

“You,” you pause, trying to control your breathing. Your eyes are scrambling for something to look at but they’re stuck on her. Just her. “Do you know … how much fucking money … all of this … is going to cost me?”

“H-Hey … relax. If it’s really that much—?”

“Don’t try to slither your way out of this one. I asked you a question. Answer.”

She trembles. You can feel it in her pulse. You can sense it as you tighten your grip. “I-I … I don’t. But I swear, I didn’t think—.”

“What? You didn’t think it was ‘this serious’? Thought you were still ‘playing games’ with me?” you retorted, scoffing mid-sentence. “Where the fuck have you been living all your life? Under a rock? Top shelf liquor is so fucking expensive to import. I bet recovering all of this is going to cost more than the clothes you’ve been wearing here, or the fucking dingy ass pad you live in.”

“Stop, I-I-I was just—.”

“Just? Was just? Just having fun with me?” you fill in. “I run a fucking business here. And god forbid, you have been really bad for it. Just fucking terrible. This?”

You gesture to the liquor seeping into the cracks between cabinets and the counter. Mixed scents of shattered spirits wafting between the two of you.

“This is the last straw. I’m—.”

“Going to punish me?”

What was that? What the fuck was that?

There it goes again. The glint in her eye. The pull of her lips. That snarky tone of hers when she says, “Going to write me off? Report me to the police? Call my parents or something?”

It’s almost like she’s nudging you. Pushing you past your bloody fucking limits. 

Like she’s challenging you.

Like she’s enjoying it.

“Go on. What are you going to do with me? Squeeze an apology out of me? Fine me? Blacklist me?” she lists, shaking off your grip when she knows you’re stunned and crosses her arms. Just under her bust. Highlighting it. “Go ahead and try. I fucking dare you.”

“Make me.”

There’s at least seven different things you could have done in this moment. Each likely more effective than the last as you play them out in your head. But when you’re face to face with her like this, bodies inching closer to one another, you can’t fucking take it anymore.

It’s time to show her who’s in charge. 

It’s time to show her her place.

“Strip.” “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you press, stepping so close to her that your feet are now directly parallel to hers. “You’re right. Maybe I’m here as your ‘entertainment’. Then if so, let me ‘entertain’ you some more. Could bring you to the station down the street. Could make you call your lawyer or something. Could even just ban your sorry ass from SAXO myself. But that’s no fun, is it?”

“Strip. Now.”

Her mouth is taut. But it quivers. And you catch that.

“Ya … Isn’t this harassment, manager? I don’t think you’d want a case against you and your little club now, would you?” she tries to bargain. 

But you see through her chicanery and subterfuge. “After all you’ve done, this is child’s play. Strip. I’m not repeating myself again.”

Growling, she rolls her eyes and pushes you away. “Fine. Pervert. But I’m not doing it with you around—.”

“Oh, you will.”

You turn around only to remove yourself from the slimy pools of spilt liquor on the floor. Vaulting over the bar counter. Dusting your hands off. You face her again. Arms crossed. Eyebrow cocked. Waiting.

“Are you for real right now? Are you fucking serious?”

“I am. You love putting on shows, don’t you? Then put on a show. Just for me,” you fired back. Smirking. “What? You’re the one who said I kept ‘eye-fucking’ you. Shouldn’t you have expected this much from me? Strip.”

You see her knuckles go white. But you also see her mask crack.

Then you see her do as you’ve told.

She whips her hair back. Of course she does. This little princess always has to have her hair fixed. The bangle earrings she’s wearing doesn’t make it any easier for her either. Digging her thumbs against her ribs, the same way she did on the night she got into the sound booth, slowly, she starts to peel upwards. You watch as the cloth of her patterned print top tantalizingly comes undone. And you get an unfiltered view of her compliance.

She hooks the hem of her top around the back of her neck, flashing the elastic band she’s using for a bra. “There. Happy?”

You shake your head. “I said strip.”

“You said strip, and I did. This is the best you’re getting out of me—.”

“How much do you make in a day?”

“What? I’m not some fucking hooker,” she chimes. And you appreciate the sass now. Because the raise of her voice makes the soft spots of her body ripple ever-so-slightly.

“Never said that. I just asked—how much do you make in a day.”

“I don’t work.”

You chuckle again. “Then you’ve got no frame of reference for how much this all costs. How much is your top.”

“My top?”

“Yeah, how much is it.”

“I don’t fucking know. Just bought it off an app. Around ten thousand won I guess?”

“A shot of that first bottle you broke costs six times that amount. A bottle can last about twenty shots. Each. Is the math computing?”

You see the exact moment the life drains from her eyes when the math, indeed, computes.

Whistling, you click your teeth to draw her attention back to you. “Strip. Before I start thinking stripping isn’t enough.”

She’s moving. She’s stripping. But she’s doing so in a way that feels different. As her top fully comes off, she doesn’t throw it. She folds it on the countertop. Not minding your direct view from above her bra. She does the same for the tights, peeling them off like a second layer of skin, folding it on top of the former.

The fur belt around her waist remains for a while. She’s using it to cover her crotch. And you realize why.

She’s wet.

“Do … do I have to also … the underwear …?”

“What part of ‘everything’ do you not understand?” you clarify mockingly. You know she’s not getting away without undressing all the way. She knows it too. “If you don’t hurry up, my second might come back to check on me. Want him to see you like this too?”

She glowers. Even though it’s a lie. “Fuck you.”

The panties come off first. Only because the belt’s in the way. It stretches against her ankles like a spiderweb when she tries to move away from the puddle she’s standing on. You catch a glimpse of the inside. It’s darker and more prominent—the stain.

Leaning forward, she holds the counter for support before grunting to take off her panties fully now. Folds it beneath her previous layers. 

“Now the bra.”

“I fucking know,” she grunts back. You know she doesn’t need a reminder. But you let her know anyway.

Her bra isn’t the usual. Not a hook type. Not a strap type. Not even a clip type. It’s an elastic type. Just comes over the chest. Supports it naturally as gravity does its thing. Your knowledge of women’s undergarments is proven almost immediately right as you watch in utter astonishment at the way her swell of a chest comes loose from her final piece of clothing.

The recoil into one another. The ripples. The gentle sag.

You hate to admit it. But it’s fucking perfect.

She forgets to put it aside. To fold it. She just tosses it to the counter because she’s got her hand and arm across her bare tits now. You let her. Because this allows you to dip forward and tug on the long end of her belt.

“Hey, what—?”

“Walk with me. Walk to me.”

You tug on her belt. Lead her like it’s a leash. And she follows. She resists a bit, and you feel it against the tightness of the garment. But you tug back and she winces. Then moves again. Until she’s all the way out of the bar area and is now hovering next to you by one of the tables in the wings.

You clear the surface of the sturdy glass and gesture to it. “Get on.”

She doesn’t question you. Not while she’s naked. Not when you hold her dignity in her hands. In order to mount the table, she had to let go of her chest, and when she lays down, you finally get to see it.

Her full form. Naked. Unadorned. Natural. All of it for you to see.

All of it laid bare.

“God, if you weren’t such a fucking brat, you’d be perfect,” you whisper. You mean it. 

Her smooth pale skin. The shape of her chest and the sheen of sweat across it. The quiver of her thick full lips. The spread of her legs. The clasp of her thighs against each other. The bare and kempt state of her nether bits. 

They’re all right there. Laid out on the table. On full display.

Just for you.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that,” she replies. Halfway between a smirk and scorn. You then realize you had said it out loud. She chuckles. Gestures to you with a finger. A hither-to motion coupled with that stare of hers again. Those ‘make me’ eyes. That ‘fuck me’ gaze. “Gonna do something about it? Or is that against company policy again, manager?”

Oh she’s asking for it now.

You loosen your tie. You kneel on the table. She looks frightened for a moment—worried the glass might break. But you prove her otherwise when you lean forward between her legs so your face is level with hers now. Hovering above it.

“I’ll show you what a fucking tease like you deserves.”

You press your lips against her and feel no resistance. Instead, she welcomes you. Her own soft hydrated folds part for you. Nibble on you. Suck you in. Her tongue is a welcome mat that unfolds into a stretch of red carpet for your own tongue to gloss and strut all over. She whimpers and moans the moment she gets her own tongue caressed in velvet. But she doesn’t complain. Doesn’t react.

Doesn’t resist.

Her hands come around your neck now as she pulls you further in, and you take this opportunity to get a little handsy yourself. 

You go for her tits. God, how could you not go for her tits? 

You’re cupping them. Fondling them. You know better than to just squeeze them like a child—no. You lift them up. You caress down the inner curve of each, polishing down and along her cleavage. If you weren’t kissing her right now, you’d have smothered your face between them. Sniffing them. But you save that for later. For now, you register the sensation of her in your head.

Hefty. Heavy. Fucking heavenly.

She gasps sharply when your right pinky hits her left nipple. You notice when you peek open an eye that she’s hard. Both of them are. Both of her nipples. They’re stiff and rounded little peaks that tempt you to oblivion. So you succumb.

One pinch and she forgets how to kiss you. Another and she’s gasping for air, breathless in your clutches. A third and she’s arching her back upwards.

“Fuuuuck,” she groans, her face getting flushed. “Do that again …”

You press your pointer to her nipple. Thumb on the other side. Wind her up by rubbing them together. Before pinching on the supple tip and pulling it upwards. Polishing it. Relishing it. Treasuring it.

She shudders more intensely now. You do the same to the other side and she’s willingly showing you the column of her neck as her body lifts from the table. “God … shit, you’re … you’re actually good with the—AHHH!”

You lick her neck. 

One stripe. Two. Slow. Tracing over the parts that make her quiver. Prolonging over the parts that make her moan. You lick upwards to her chin. Over her lips. And press a kiss on them before repeating the cycle.

Her eyes flutter open and close, unable to focus. Whenever your gazes meet, she doesn’t turn away. She stares deeper into your soul. The facade from earlier having crumbled completely.

She reaches for your chest. However she can in this tightened position. She runs her hands across your pecs, down to your abdomen, where she then hitches her fingers into your waist and belt, and unbuckles it.

While you’re licking her nipples now. suckling on them, teasing them with the sharp of your tongue alternating with the long flat wall of it, you notice she’s grinding against your thigh. There’s a noticeable dampness. A moisture. Permeating your supposedly waterproof slacks.

You chuckle and bite down on one nipple. And this makes her scream in absolute ecstasy.

One hand moves from your fly to the back of your head, gripping your hair, guiding you to where she wants you to kiss, suckle, and lick across her full fucking tits. The other unzips you. Hastily pushes your pants off. And tries to get you out of your clothes this time. When the back of her palm hits your bulge however, she freezes.

“Wait … wait—NGHHH—stop, I-I want to see this …”

You withdraw from the addiction that are her breasts and wipe the slobber from your lips against the cup of your shoulder. “What?”

“Your dick. I … I just want to see how it looks like, ok …?”

You push up from the table, nearly slipping from how sweaty your palms have gotten, and right yourself so she can sit up against the edge and be leveled with your crotch. Taking a deep breath, she palms over your bulge that’s on the verge of bursting against your boxers.

“Oh. Oh wow, you’re …” she stutters. Fails to find the right words. She looks up at you and blushes. Nothing like the incessant little prick she’s been previously. Instead, she has this yearning look on her. Like she wants to know. Wants to see. Wants to feel.

So you let her.

You don’t even move. You let her do it herself. Nails digging into your waist, prying your black underwear downwards until it slides off. You flick it off once it’s just around one heel, and you present this woman with the unadulterated direct view of your cock.

She doesn’t speak.

Her face hovers closer and closer until her left cheek presses against your semi-erect shaft. “Fuck … you’re bigger than my face … I-I … I don’t know if I can …”

“You’ll work it out. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you manage to.”

She licks her lips and bites her tongue. “Mmmh, yeah? Make me then.”

One palm on the top of her head. Another beneath her chin to angle it the right way. You press your swollen tip against the entrance to her mouth and groan. “Then fucking take it.”

You push open. Burst into the warmth. Get enveloped by the wet velvety walls past her little locked lips.

She whimpers from the first breaching. You take it slow. Knocking down an inch more. Then two. Then she’s taking you halfway in. Then, you’re knocking against her uvula at the back of her throat.

Her neck stiffens rigidly against your persistent hand, but she’s not strong enough to break free even if she tried. So you keep her there. All the way down. Lips forming a tight ring around your base as she gags and hlurks and spews her own saliva out from the small tears in her vacuum sealed mouth. You keep her there for god knows how long, taking pleasure in both the physical sensation of her mouth and the knowledge that you’re finally getting to see her use it for something other than provoking you.

Once her eyes redden beyond reason, you let go of her head, and in moments, she spits you out with a guttural groan as she could breathe properly again.

“Nguh … ha … ha … You fucking psycho … Could have—I could have choked to death on your fucking dick,” she spits out, smudging her hand across her chin. “But … ha … that was good.”

“Good?”

She bites her lip and nods, gripping your cock now with a hand. “Yeah … fucking delicious. I want more.”

“Then suck it like a good little slut.”

Knees spread, bending at an angle now, she closes the gap and licks up from your base to your tip before suckling on the head. Just a few swirls with her tongue. Before she throats your cock herself.

No prompting. No input. No hesitation.

Her head and neck work in tandem to bob her salivating mouth back and forth along the length of your shaft. Lips cruising down your sensitive skin. Tongue flattening and caressing your underside. Whenever her lips meet her hand that’s gripping what she can’t reach, it makes this popping sound that you want to hear more and more.

She’s got no technique. She gags too easily. But fucking hell—the raw and primal energy she exhibits is relentless. It’s fucking intoxicating.

This woman’s moaning in between violent gags, and you notice it whenever her nipples bump into your thighs. You smirk. You push deeper into her, making her eyes go wide, hit the back of her throat, and force her to adjust while sucking you hard and fast still. But this time, her nipples graze your inner thigh each time and you see her eyes melt from their initial panic and hesitation.

When she pulls you out with a loud smacking sound, she’s gasping, panting, eyes wet, lips swollen, but tongue licking up your precum on the tip oh-so-fucking-hungrily.

“You taste so … fucking … good, mmm,” she murmurs, stroking your first few inches, thumb rolling over the head. “Who knew the uptight manager was packing so fucking much?”

“Consider yourself the exception and not the rule,” you barely get out in one full breath as her stroking is getting more intentional rather than lazy.

“Lucky me then,” she mutters, blowing your tip a kiss. She licks up once. Then twice. Then circles around ridge of your head. Playing with it. Toying with you. Face disappearing beneath you as her eyes almost glow. “This is all mine—.”

The doors to the club open and you hear footsteps.

Time doesn’t afford you the luxury to curse. You’re both scrambling. For clothes. For refuge. Anything.

You only manage to put your pants back on. Not even to fix your underwear. Your belt’s not even buckled. When you see who it is walking into the open space of the club, he shoots you a weird look. “Boss?”

“Already done? Thought you’d all be enjoying spending my money a bit more,” you reply, hands in your pockets to stop your slacks from falling down. “Where are the others?”

“Um, home, boss. It’s six in the morning.”

“Right, right.”

“Boss, you haven’t been drinking again, have you?”

You gesture to yourself with a thumb jutting up from your waist. “Me? Why would I be?”

But Minho shakes his head, one hand smoothening the folds of his brown and white checkered tie that reminds you of brownies. “Nothing. Just making sure. Did you manage to sort out the issue? With the lady?”

You nod. That’s all you can give him. That’s all you really want to give him. Because your dick’s being bent at such a bad fucking angle in your tight slacks that you want to just let it free again. It would rather be inside somewhere else too. “Told her off. She got scared easily when I talked to her alone. Said she’ll ‘behave’ more—whatever that means.”

“Is she still here?”

You freeze. Muscles behind your thighs tighten. “She left just after you and our staff did.”

“Then why is her fur thing still there?” he asks, pointing to the peeking belt the woman left behind. If Minho hadn’t pointed it out, you wouldn’t have seen the terrible fucking hiding spot she chose. On all fours behind one of the table’s walled legs. Buck naked.

As Minho approaches, you casually just pick up the belt with your left hand and tug on it. Even when it goes taut. She gasps and shakes her head nervously, but you continue as you stare down at her. “Must have left it. I’ll hand it back when she comes back. I know she will. Leave it to me.”

Those final four words are always enough for your second to stop in his tracks, just a few meters away from your table, and nod. “Got it. You should get some rest too, boss. If, you know, only if you can. I don’t want to pressure you if it doesn’t—.”

“Thanks, Minho. I appreciate it.”

“And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to or share the workload from admin—.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Go home, Minho. I’ll see you tonight.”

He nods and salutes you with three fingers. “See you tonight, boss.”

Once you’re certain your second’s walked out the door and is well beyond the entrance of SAXO, you pinch the bridge of your nose and feel the other end of the belt shifting between your knuckles.

“Is he always like that? Sounds like he sucks your dick more than I do.”

“He’s enthusiastic. He’s a godsend,” you tell her, helping her up to her feet. But you don’t let her go. Not the belt. Not her waist. You pull her in until she’s arching her stomach towards you. Dipping backwards. “And you? I’m not done with you yet. Let’s head to my office.”

Her drool-covered mouth shifts into a smirk. “Yeah? Make me—.”

You crash your lips onto hers and she jumps into your arms. You lift her up by her thighs and support one arm around her lower back as you stumble across the wings of the club to get to the staff-only area.

Kicking the door open, you slip in before it can close. And you feel her tongue lapping at your lips and teeth as she grips your head firmly like she doesn’t want you to leave. Oh boy, do you have no plans to leave her at all.

You hasten down the corridor. Shoulder bumping into the water dispenser. Then, you fish for your keys and unlock your office.

Once you’re both in, your elbow flies to the button and it locks with a click. She pulls away from you and presses her forehead against yours, caressing your cheek. “Hmm, you’re sexy like this. Taking control. Not holding back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she giggles lowly as you put her on your desk. Her ass is compressing against your laptop as she sits on it. She takes a moment to look around. At the only light hovering above you both. The two sofas on either side of the front of your desk. At the pictures, certificates, and permits on one wall. “Never done this before. Banging in the backrooms of a place.”

“Who said I was going to fuck you?”

She slaps your neck and points her chin at you. “Really? You worked me up like this just to—.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her sentence is choked off immediately when you rub two fingers against her clit. Her hand instinctively flies to your neck, holding you for support. You rub steadily in circles, occasionally swiveling over the hood, swiping back and forth over her sensitive little button. And which each motion, you watch her progressively soften her face up from a glower, to a whimper, to a moan.

“Yeah—NGHH MHHH—yeah I think I-I like you like this best.”

“Like what?”

She inhales through her clenching teeth. You’re still swiping down her clit with your thumb like you’re flitting through bills at the bar counter during closing time. “L-Like you … hnghh … like you know just what to do.”

“Do I?”

“I-I-I don’t know. I’ll … mmh—give you a point for the kissing, but—.”

She interrupts herself with a moan. The culprit? Your tongue.

“But what?” you raise, licking once more from her entrance all the way to her hood. Her pussy tastes like it smells. Sweaty. Musky. Bit of tang.

Tastes like need.

You feel her fingers knit through your hair. “But … I nghh … but I was the one doing most of the kissing …”

Palms to her thighs, you keep her legs parted. Eyes up to see her reaction. Nose bumping into her button as a tease at first, but now you’re intentionally grinding the pad of it against her clit. Tongue swiping up and down her slit like a credit card that won’t register at the terminal. “Go on. I’m sure I’ve got more points in there somewhere.”

Her fingers dig into your scalp. “I’d … I’d give you two points for all … the fucking things … mmm you did to my … to my tits …”

You kiss her clit. Suckle on it. Pin the hood between your flaps as you peel it back gently with the sharp of your tongue and swirl around her now-exposed button like it’s your favorite M&M. “I sense a but there.”

As you say that, you grip her ass now, finger jammed between her plush bottom and the edge of your laptop. “Continue or I’ll stop.”

“But it’s not fair because—AHHH—because I-I … I’m always sensitive there anyway …”

You figured. But you don’t excuse her.

Your tongue flattens itself against her and does this perpetual motion that makes her feel like you’re never running out of tongue. Up and down. Side to side. Rotations in both clockwise and in reverse. You don’t let up. You never let up. Not until you feel her dribbling that delicious nectar against your chin. Not until she’s moaning up a storm from just your tongue alone. Not until she’s yanking your fucking head lose.

“Sh-sh-shit … nghh … yes … YES! Fuck—I’m close, I-I-I’m—.”

You press your cheek to the side to catch your breath. Rest your tongue. “How many points am I getting for this?”

She dunks your head back against her pussy. “Shut u-up and just eat me … please …”

You smirk. That’s what you want to hear. You slow down your pace though. No longer giving her endless stimulation. No longer lapping her up like a hungry dog. You take your time. Build your pace. Get her closer and closer to that fucking point of no return. But don’t send her off into the deep end.

“Faster … please faster fuck … nghhh you’re—I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing? Tell me,” you say between medium-paced strokes. Like you’re enjoying a vanilla soft serve. Taking your time. But not letting the cream melt off. “Lost your words? You were so full of them—.”

“You’re teasing me,” she pushes, groaning with her back arching up. “Please … fuck … please …”

“Please what?”

“Please … eat my fucking pussy out like you own it!”

That’s all you need.

You slide your wide palms up from her butt, down her thighs, until they’re behind her knees, pinning both of them next to her face, folding her in half. Her back arches. Just the perfect height for you to lean forward and eat her the fuck out.

“OHHHH FUCK YES! Shit … shit … too much—TOO MUCH!”

But you don’t stop.

Your tongue hones in on her clit. Spreading around your saliva and her juices like a butter knife against smooth toast. She’s trembling, then shuddering, then palpitating. And that’s your queue to keep it steady. You lap at her like you’ve been starving for days. Even when your tongue numbs. Even when your jaw slacks. Even when your mouth is now full of her fucking scent and flavor.

You. Don’t. Stop.

“Fuck—CUMMING!”

She’s a squirter. She’s a goddamn fucking squirter. 

When she erupts she glazes your face with a warm spray. It lasts for more than ten seconds. Not stopping until the mess she’s made is dripping down onto your long-sleeves. She can’t breathe. She’s forgotten how to. So you decide to not be a dick and let her have a moment to herself first.

And the moment she’s regained her senses, she looks up at you and sits up. “That … ha … ha … felt amazing. You were amazing.”

But you hold your hand out against her thigh and push her back into that folded ball, knees to her head, ass up in the air.

“What—?”

“Hold it. Hold yourself like that for me.”

Reddened at the face, she nods and tucks her hands beneath her knees to hold herself in position—in offering—for you.

Now that? That is a picture-perfect moment.

You press your thumbs to the highest button. By your neck. You pop it open. You do the same for the second. Pop it open. You have about eight of these. And you take your time with each one. Because you know she’s watching you. Waiting for you. Wishing she could be the one to just rip your polo from you and finally see your bare body. You know that much. You know it because while her mouth may lie, her eyes? They don’t.

Her eyes never lie.

Once you’re finally pulling your arms through your sleeves and dropping the polo on the floor, she groans when she sees what’s underneath. “Are you kidding me? That must be fucking hot in there. You wear that every night?”

You don’t answer. You pull your undershirt off. Shove your slacks down with your boxers. And step forward. Pressing your hands next to her knees, which are next to her face. You lean in and grin. “Manager’s choice.”

You slap your cock against her pussy like you would her lips, and she responds with a tremble. Her pussy has a life of its own. It’s throbbing. Pulsating. Even after an orgasm. Such a fucking greedy little hole on an insatiable little brat. But no matter. You’ll feed her soon enough.

You grind into her. Rub your length against her folds. Poke your tip into her receding belly button. Make her feel the heat between her legs. Giving her the appetizer. 

Her eyes flicker with the fire of someone who just can’t fucking wait to burn. But you don’t move. Not much. Not anything beyond some grinding and dry humping. If you can even still call it ‘dry’ at that point. Considering your underside is being conveniently lubricated with each caress of her pussy.

“Are you going to fuck me or just stare me to sleep?” she spits. You have to admire her spunk despite how she’s folded on your desk like this. “Maybe I should call your little errand boy to do me instead. Maybe he won’t waste my time—.”

“Beg.”

She falls silent. Like you pushed the right button. 

“No.”

You slap your shaft against her pussy and wake her up. Like you slapped her across the face too. “Beg. Or I can just walk out of here, head to a strip club, and fuck one of the girls there instead.”

“Like hell you could. They don’t allow that.”

“I could. I know people.”

She bites her lip. “Fuck you. I’m not going to beg. You either fuck me or you don’t.”

You pull away. Motioning just the slightest bit for your undershirt. But immediately, you feel a grip against your arm.

“If you put that fucking undershirt back on, I will never forgive you.”

You chuckle. “Yeah?”

She spreads her legs. Wider. Lifts her butt. Higher. Makes it so her body is parted not just in invitation, but also so you can see her face clean down the middle. Past her tits. Resting against the fan of hair draped behind her like a veil.

“Please. Fuck me. Or whatever—.”

You push your dick in.

The enlarged tip meets some resistance already, noted by the pitch of her moan. There’s a ring. A tight fucking ring at the entrance. And for a heartbeat you’re afraid you might rip something. But just like her attitude, her body learns to cave in to you.

You’re in now. Not just the tip that flares at the base of her. Not just the first few inches that part the tight clenching walls of hers. But all the way in.

You’re pressed in so deep that there’s nowhere else to go. And your cock isn’t even fully inside her.

Her eyes widen. Whites glowing as her pupils dilate. “Shit. Fuck. Y-You’re stretching me … T-T-Take it slow—please—AHHH!”

You don’t take it slow.

Pressing her hands firmer against the back of her own knees, using that grip to slide her closer to you. You pull out and then ram your cock deep inside her. Once. Twice. Repeatedly. Faster. Gaining pace. Gaining momentum. Knocking on her womb with everything you’ve fucking got.

And she is just a mess.

“Is this what you fucking imagined when you were messing with me? Is this what you fucking wanted when you were acting like a little brat every night? Answer me,” you demand, pressing into her thighs now, gripping them, pounding incessantly. You haven’t had sex in god knows how long. It only felt right to dissolve completely into the temptation of her. “What? Lost your words?”

Her eyes can’t focus on any one thing, drifting here and there. Mouth agape. Tongue firmly planted between her lips. She’s moaning with each of your thrusts. So you fuck into her faster to hear it. To hear more. You’re immediately rewarded by the change in pitch, the change in frequency, and the added percussive of her tits slapping together.

Sweat dripping down your face and neck, you grip her ass from the side and slap it. Watching the pink blossom. Feeling her skin heat up. You spank her again. And again. And again. Until she finally screams her reply.

“YES! Fuck … fuck … FUCK—YES! Pound me like this. Keep fucking going. NGHHH you’re going to fucking ruin me!”

“Yeah? Then get fucking ruined.”

You press your thumb to her clit and start rubbing it fast. No direction. No patter. Just fast flicks and rotations.

“FUCK! YOU’RE—.”

Smack. Smack. Smack. Your hips meet the swell of her ass as she’s bouncing on your dick. Matching your pace. Meeting each upward thrust of yours with a downwards stroke of hers.

“C-CLOSE! Don’t stop—DON’T FUCKNG STOP!”

You pull her ass off the edge just to knock her knees into your desk. Her eyes are glazed over. Pure fucking bliss. You’re working double time with your heels and your waist to deliver blow after blow deep into her pussy. She’s clenching. Squeezing you. Craving your fucking release. But you don’t stop. You don’t give her that luxury. Not yet.

“Who’s fucking your little pussy right now?”

“MMMH … wh-what—?”

“Answer me! Who’s fucking ruining your little pussy right now?” you grunt, fucking the daylights into her while fiddling with her clit.

“Y-You … AHH!”

“Yeah? And who’s going to make you cum? Answer me.”

There’s less hesitation this time. She spits it out, “You! Fuck ….fuck I-I-I can’t—.”

“And who fucking owns you? Tell me. Say it. Moan it. Fucking scream it—.”

“YOU FUCKING OWN MY PUSSY, MANAGER!”

That was it.

You smudge your thumb against her button, really grind into it. You force whatever remaining strength you have left to thrust specifically upwards into the soft spongy spot that kept making her lose her breath. And you lean in to kiss her. Passionately. Sloppily. Possessively.

Claiming her. As you claim her squirting orgasm all over your cock.

She can’t even moan. Just whimpering into your kiss as she lets go of her shaking legs. You grab her ankles and feel her feet tensing into a point. But she slaps your arms and pulls them closer to her, tugging on them like reigns so she can feel your full erect length stretching her pussy down to the final spasm of her release.

Then, it’s your turn.

“Fuck … fuck that—wait … wait wait wait—AHHHH SHIT—!”

One arm behind her back, holding her close. The other lifting her leg up so her knee’s hooked over your shoulder. One hand gripping her waist. The other palming her clit. You send her into a state of borderline catatonia as she moans and groans and scrambles to try and break free as you overstimulate her senses. But you don’t stop. You chase after your own release while inside her clenching and spasming death-grip of a pussy.

“Going to fucking—.”

“GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING LOAD!”

You burst.

Your whole body’s tensed. Did you know that? You didn’t up until you allowed yourself to let go. To let it all loose. The first shot burns your tip with how rapid it fired out. With how tight she’s clamping around you. The next few shots spread pleasure all over your stomach, racing up your spine, and then finally scattering across the back of your head. The last few shots send your mind into a daze as your first orgasm in arguably months finally escapes you. Finally finds its place. Finally fills her the fuck up so bountifully.

Unsheathing yourself from her warm, sweating, and pulsating orifice, you let your cock droop against your thigh. Semi-erect still. Sensitive to the cool air of your office. Dripping an ounce or two of leftover cum.

And she’s there. On your desk. Unmoving. Naked, heaving mass. Sweaty all over. Arms flayed out to the side. Chest rising and falling unsteadily. Nipples perking from the cool. Ass hanging off the edge. One knee pointed upwards. The other outstretched with her leg to keep her steady.

There she is. Cum dripping out of her like a mark. Like a signature.

There she fucking is. No masks. No games. No resistance.

Completely laid bare.

---

The door to your office bursts open. But you’re not flinching this time. You’re focusing on transferring your hand-written computations from the pile of papers next to you. Digitalizing them.

“What’s the matter this time, Minho? We haven’t even opened yet.”

“Sorry for not knocking boss, but it’s Hajoon. He … let’s just say he ‘pre-gamed’ a little too hard and is um, throwing up all over Table Thirty-One—.”

“Well, clean it up. Do I have to be the one to deal with every single mess?”

Minho’s eyes lower to his polished shoes. “I … You’re right. I’ll handle this myself.”

He pauses. Looks at you now. You know this despite being deep in your sheets. You can see him from your peripheral. “And?”

“Boss, are you … eating something?”

You shrug. “Haven’t had a meal all day. Haven’t caught any shuteye either. All the damages. All the losses. Marking them all down first.”

“Want me to grab some food then before we open? What are you craving?” he asks with a smile. And you can sense that he’s quite hungry too.

“Think that American place a few streets down’s still open? I could go for a sloppy joe right about now.”

He snaps and winks at you. “You got it boss. I’ll be on my—huh. There’s that sound again.”

“Must be a leak in the vents. I’ll call plumbing later.”

Minho grins and nods. “Always one step ahead, aren’t you, boss?”

You nod in reply and return to your sheets. There’s a brief pause. Then, Minho’s finally disappeared behind your closing door.

In moments, her head resurfaces from underneath your desk. Face sweaty, half dripping with cum half drying in it, thick lips pursing and bubbling over the tip of your cock.

“You like it sloppy, don’t you? Mmmmh,” she teases while wiping your thick shaft against her softer features. “Who could have guessed?”

You reach down to lift her chin and say, “If you’re going to pay off your debt, you might as well get back to it. We’re opening in two hours. So unless you want my staff to wonder why one of our clubgoers is walking around ruined like a cheap little whore, I suggest you make it worth my while.”

Giggling with that same teasing energy of hers, but just converted into something else now, she nods and kisses your tip again.

“Mhmm,” Gaeul says, walking in with quiet footsteps. “Just had the 2026 Reading Korea event done.”

“Wanna watch TV? Or maybe play some games?

She shakes her head with a gentle smile. “I just want to read a little and unwind.”

“Then come here first,” I say, patting my lap. “Let’s get that overdue ear cleaning appointment done today while you read. You deserve to relax from all the chaos.”

Gaeul sets her bag down by the kitchen counter and walks towards me, settling comfortably as she rests her head on my lap. Book in her hand and the ear cleaning kit in mine, I thread my fingers through her dark, smooth hair that’s spilt across my thighs like ink, gathering it to the side to expose her ear. With a slight shift of her head to get herself in position, she opens Scythe and starts reading aloud in her soft, steady voice.

I open the box and take out the ear pick, starting slowly and carefully to trace the soft flesh of her outer ear with the cool metal end of the ear pick, before sliding in with careful scrapes.

Working gently, I clear away the invisible weight of her endless practices, stages, cameras and judgmental stares. Each drag triggering a small shiver of pleasure, each curl drawing a soft moan of approval. Between strokes, my free hand brushes the stray strands of hair from her temple, swaying softly from the cool breeze of the air-conditioning.

“This line here is pretty nice,” she says, turning up slightly to look at me when I lift the ear pick off for a brief clean.

I look down at her glassy eyes.

“You’ve been blooming so beautifully,” I murmur, sliding the pick back in. “Aphrodite with your lovely pink hair, Persephone with jet black… The world is finally seeing how radiant you always have been. But right now, you don't have to shine for anyone.” I rub my thumb across her cheek, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Just stay right here with me.”

“If you keep saying sweet things while digging my ears, I really won't be able to finish this chapter,” she chuckles softly, cheeks pink from my affection.

I swap sides to work on her other ear, making sure to be as tender and as loving as possible, removing the weight of her burdens and worries that’s clouding her. The room is soon replaced with deep and calm breathing, her body melting and relaxing further into my lap as the gentle cleaning continues. The silent intimacy wraps arounds both of us like soft silk.

No spotlight, no pressure. Just the soft sound of the metal against skin, her calm presence, and the occasional turn of a page.

When I’m done, I gently tap her shoulder after setting the tool aside.

“All done~” I whisper.

Gaeul closes the book with a contented sigh and turns her head to look up at me.

“All clean. I’ll go shower now—”

“Wait.” Her fingers catch my wrist. “Let me do yours too. It's only fair.”

“No need, baby. You should get some rest—”

Greeted with her insistent pout, I give out a sigh of reluctant defeat. She shifts and guides my head into her lap, mirroring my actions from before, cradling me like a baby between the warmth of her thighs.

“You feel nice,” I mumble, snuggling into her.

With focused care, Gaeul picks up the other pair of ear picks and begins to clean my ears. Free hand threading lightly through my hair, her hands dance across my face softly like she’s playing pianississimo on a piano.

“Read to me?”

I pick up the book and continue from where she left off, feeling her gentle, loving scrapes that sends small waves of comfort through me. With each passing second, the words linger in the soft lamplight, letting them settle between us, seeping into our hearts.

“Love remained mortal, while we became eternal.” I read, turning a page.

Hearing the words, her movements grow even gentler, as though she is savouring this small, shared moment as much as I am. She hums a small approval at the words, pondering deeply about its meaning.

“I like that line,” she says. “Don’t you think it's fascinating? We live in a world that wants everything to be perfect for eternity, and yet real love still feels so fragile and precious, especially in the small moments.”

“I do~” I hum, closing my eyes to let her words simmer within me. “It makes me want to cherish small simple things more, like us right now, cleaning each other’s ears after a long day, listening to you read, or even just us sitting together on this couch in silence, accompanying each other.”

I set the open book against my chest and draw in a slow measured breath, letting my feelings for her come through. “Because love stays mortal and fleeting… and that's what makes it much more beautiful,” I say, turning to the next page.

Time goes by as Gaeul works on my other ear, her soft soothing hums and my steady words forming a dome of shared, sacred space around us, one that at least keeps our love for each other intact and deeply bound.

When she finally sets the tool down, I look up at her. She's smiling at me with a small, quiet affection, her fingers still threaded through my hair, thumb grazing the warm smoothness of my forehead.

I close the book and sit up, speaking the last line I have just seen like a promise I have made just for her and her alone.

“We are imperfect beings, and perfection is not our goal.”

Resting my forehead gently onto hers, I cup her cheeks on both sides and whisper into her mouth.